Tuesday, 26 February 2013

Who are you really?

Who are you really?

This poem really speaks to me and it is describing that your physical appearance is not who you are, but the things you love is who you are. In the second stanza it say what you are not. "You are not a name or a height, or a weight," these two lines suggest that the persona is telling you that what you look like or weigh is not what says who you really are. In the third stanza the persona tries to convey the message that what you love and the little things that you do are what makes you, you. "You are your favourite books and the songs stuck in your head," is conveying that who you are is the things you love to read or the songs that constantly stick in your head. These things are all something that we choose because of our own certain personality, which is what the author was trying to describe in this poem. I really think this is a beautiful way to tell somebody that their personality is what makes you who you really are in life. In the last stanza the persona states "You are where you're going and I'd like to go there too," and this ties it all together in a way that the persona likes you for you and would like to be with you wherever you may be because he/she loves who you truly are.


Monday, 25 February 2013

What is love?

What is love,

It is not a faze
or a fling, or fun
or a one night stand
it is not someone to hold your hand
and someone to be there when you want
them to be

It is THE one for you
and the one who always makes you smile
it is the feeling of butterflies
and happiness every time
you're together

It is a knowing
deep down in your heart
that this is a true love
A perfect love

It is not
something that is temporary
It is
Everything worth while
and I'd like
to have that
with you

Friday, 22 February 2013

What if?

What if?

What if music was not real?
What if you could not feel?
What if you had no heart;
No emotion at the start?
Could you imagine a world like that?

What if there was no colour?
Would everything be duller?
What if there was no sound?
What if it could not be found?
Could you imagine a world like that?

What if there were no trees;
No air that you could breathe?
What if there was no sun;
No shinning to be done?
Could you imagine a world like that?

Be thankful for the music and sound.
Be thankful you have a heart.
Be thankful for the colour around.
Be thankful this world is set apart.
Be thankful for the world you live in.

What if the sun didn't shine
Would things be the same
would we do what we always did
What if love never existed
What would we feel for someone we loved
Would we feel love at all
What if anger was our good side
Would we wear it as pride
What if the hungry never ate
Would they make it to the next day
What if we gotten every thing we ever needed
Would we be filled with greed
What if every one was enemies
Could we ever expect to have a good time
What if there was no difference between you and me
Would we understand each other
Would we know everything about everybody
What if there was no laughter no joy
Could we endure life
Would there be any thing we could enjoy
What if things were never how they was suppose to be
Would we be how we use to be
What if we were blind and could not see
Would we give up on life
Would we accept that the little things in life would not excite you or me
What if
What if these words I am saying to you did not get to you
Would you be lost
Would you be considered a fool
What if 

Tuesday, 19 February 2013

Pick a lock

Pick a lock.

Pick a, pick a lock.
Beat the, beat the clock.
Time is running out.
Hurry up the route.
Pick a, pick a lock.



In the deep dark jungle,
Tarzan sleeps in his tall wood house,
With his dearest sweet Jane.

Music will always be there

Music will always be there

Do you know who's always there?
Do you know who really does care?
Music will always have your back.
Even when life gives you a big whack.
Music makes life impossibly fair.



A student complains

School, School, work and homework.
School, School, more stress added to life.
Lack of freedom, lack of rest,
makes it harder to enjoy learning.
School, School, you're boring and lame.
School, School, you've exhausted me.

Teachers reply

At first, school is boring, lame,
then you start to enjoy the things you learn.
Next, you understand why you're here
and start to balance the work load.
I may seem intimidating, but
I'm here to listen I'm here to care.
I teach you everything I know, to fill you with knowledge,
help you grow, help you achieve.
In a future day, you will look back and know,
I cared and I taught just to show,

I remember, I remember

I remember, I remember
I remember, I remember
The mustard coloured house where I grew up
The bright green trees during the summer, rustling in the wind
The forest in the backyard begging for adventures
That little creek that trickles through the dense trees
Branches cracking as animals scurry;
Children running in a hurry,
As mother's call “It's time for dinner!”

I Remember, I Remember

I remember, I remember 
The house where I was born, 
The little window where the sun 
Came peeping in at morn; 
He never came a wink too soon 
Nor brought too long a day; 
But now, I often wish the night 
Had borne my breath away.

O Mitch! My Mitch!

O Mitch! My Mitch!
O Mitch! my Mitch! Your impossible job is done, you sang to many hearts,
Their lives are saved, Heaven is near, choirs to hear, angels praising your return.
Never so thankful are the fans, never so heartbroken are the fans; But O sing! Sing! Sing!
O sweet symphony of sound, Where you lie in the clouds above, watching over us all
O Mitch! My Mitch! Come back to us; Sing again- you left behind a legacy- for you we will all press forward.

For you a concert in your honour- for you the greatest mourn the loss of an inspiration
For you they cry, the tears of innocence, no one deserved this bitter farewell
Here Mitch! Dear father!
Your family misses you
It is Kenadee that needs you
You're gone and passed.

My Mitch is silent, no more beautiful words flowing from his lips,
My Mitch does not know who he's saved, nor will he ever,
The touring is done never to resume, the music to never be heard again,
From the beginning to the end you were there;
Sing with the angels, with glory on high!
But we will forever miss thee.
Tis a sad farewell.
But in my heart you will stay.

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack,
      the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
      While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart!
      O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
      O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up- for you the flag is flung- for
      you the bugle trills, 
         For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths- for you the shores
          For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
             Here Captain! dear father!
               This arm beneath your head!
                 It is some dream that on the deck,
                   You've fallen cold and dead.

          My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
          My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
          The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
          From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
               Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
                 But I with mournful tread,
                   Walk the deck my Captain lies,
                     Fallen cold and dead.

These Things Have I Loved

These Things Have I Loved

These have I loved:

Music and bands, loudly playing
Vocals mixed with instruments; and sweaty crowds swaying
Lyrics, the feelings from deep inside,
touches the hearts of many, all fans alike; saving lives
Musicians are heroes; not all have to wear capes
Some are screaming along with the bass
Girls wearing Converse, boys wearing vans;
All wearing T-shirts of their favourite bands
Laughter like little children; bright smiles and loud cheers;
The ones lost in the dark, found again
Observing people; the way he looks at her;
I wonder if she sees how much he cares?
After a merciless day, full of hard work
Coming home and napping on the marshmallow soft bed
Warm and comforting hugs; a release from the world;
Days of stress gone, feeling bright and light
These I have loved

These I have loved:
  White plates and cups, clean-gleaming,
Ringed with blue lines; and feathery, faery dust;
Wet roofs, beneath the lamp-light; the strong crust
Of friendly bread; and many-tasting food;
Rainbows; and the blue bitter smoke of wood;
And radiant raindrops couching in cool flowers;
And flowers themselves, that sway through sunny hours,
Dreaming of moths that drink them under the moon;
Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that soon
Smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss
Of blankets; grainy wood; live hair that is
Shining and free; blue-massing clouds; the keen
Unpassioned beauty of a great machine;
The benison of hot water; furs to touch;
The good smell of old clothes; and other such-- 
The comfortable smell of friendly fingers,
Hair's fragrance, and the musty reek that lingers
About dead leaves and last year's ferns. . . .