Can You Blame Me?

Can you blame me
for what I have become
from always standing in the rain,
searching for the sun?

Can you blame me
for what has come from pain?
For the things I've done in anger,
and the choices I've made in vain.

Why is it me
to whom you point the blame?
Whether right or wrong,
It hurts all the same.

The humiliation and guilt
seem to never recess.
as I forge ahead the chase,
after my lost happiness.

Empty is my heart,
broken by a pretender.
How can you blame me
for being eager to surrender?

Relentlessly reminded,
sorrowfully weeping,
I pray to soon be rid
Of this misery I'm keeping.

Can you blame me?
All I wanted was the sun.
and I did everything I could,
but I think the rainstorm won.

(depressing, yes, I wrote this in the midst of a fight a while back)

Christmas Box

A young girl met a charming boy
who swept her off her feet.
He made her laugh and made her smile,
He made her life complete.

The girl wished to thank the boy
For teaching her how to love.
But no gift would ever do,
And words were not enough.

She made a box and within its walls
She left a special kiss.
So once the boy would open it
He’d know her happiness.

And in the box, she hid her faith,
The devotion she held to him
He need only hold the box
To feel her heart within.

There was one last gift she had to leave,
The most important one of all.
She made the box to hold her love,
But she thought the box too small.

Her love, you see, was ever lasting,
No ordinary box could hold it.
But this box was a special one,
And with her love it was molded.

Filled with faith, love and a kiss,
This box safely keeps my joy.
A young girl I will forever be,
Eternally in love with you,
my charming boy.







Last Christmas, I wanted to give Shane a meaningful gift. I wanted to make something, as a measure of how important he is to me, and how much I value our relationship. Made from mahogany and bass wood, stained and etched with a laser cutter, I made him a box with his initials etched on the lid, a decorative heart design on the sides, and a poem I wrote for him on the inside of the box. I loved it...it's tedious, and even though I never had the patience when making architectural models, I really enjoyed making this box and I put a lot of care into it.

Now I have to outdo it this year....

Mother is God in the Eyes of a Child

Never one to believe in Religion
Not the type to follow another.
Trust in one God or one Faith, I have none.
No God seems worthy when next to my Mother.

I don't need the Bible to tell me why
Or how we were put on the Earth we roam.
Nor will I question the sun in the sky
As long as I have my Mother at home.

And yet still I question my own being- my guide.
How would I live each day if I falter?
Who would I pray to, in whom do I confide?
Should I have faith in the Lord, Our Father?

Our Father's not mine, I say as I smile,
Mother is God in the eyes of a child.