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Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold...
        

Words, words, I play with words
hoping that some combination—
even a chance combination—
will say what I want.
What's left unsaid
will always find a way
to scream.

Hers was usual, his, an art
Ever finding solace in a single word
Little he said, the world he meant
Learning and yearning to be heard
Only if she knew, to hear love in hello!

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Am I jealous?
I look at you breathe;
And the way you need air
And baby, I can’t help but feel
The mild sting of jealousy

The night has a thousand eyes,
And the day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies
With the dying sun.

The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one:
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When love is...

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or...

He wanders slowly,
hands in his pockets,
eyes tracing the faces
frozen in time,
their stories reaching out
from the quiet walls.

The floor creaks softly beneath him,
but the air feels heavy
weighted with...

I have robbed the garrulous streets,
Thieved a fair girl from their blight,
I have stolen her for a sacrifice
That I shall make to this night.

I have brought her, laughing,
To my quietly dreaming garden.
For what will be...

Two things gladden me
The starry night above
And the fiery thrill
Of a heart in love!

There are memories I planted
deep enough to forget,
but they sprout anyway,
breaking through the soil of silence.
Some grow thorns,
some bloom softly,
some rise like weeds
I wish I never watered.
But all of them...