Kris' poems.

Rainy Day:


Most of my days are filled with rain,
significant of tears, crying in shame.
But for one such as I who loves to cry,
sits, writing and smiling, while you ask why.

I'll tell you why my dear precious one,
I'll say it once and it'll be done,
the reason I cry and smile together,
is all because of the weather.

The rain reminds me of my tears,
of my salty moving fears,
I laugh because you cannott see,
that you and the world did this to me.

Embers, flames, burning out,
all you people fill me with doubt,
Land to land, sea to sea,
there is nobody who really wants me.

So I cry,
and smile,
and you sigh,
you're off by a mile.

You still wonder what's wrong with me,
And I wonder how blind you are,
how you cannot see,
that you and the world has done this to me.

My Dear One:
by Kristin.

My dear one,
where have you gone?
You did what you had to,
and now you are done.

You may be on the other side,
you may be right next to me,
but you haunt my mind,
damnit, give me liberty.

I loved you then,
I love now,
I loved you when you were ill,
and I love you forever, I always will.

-Dedicated to Wil, my best friend and the love of my life. He died of cancer on August 25th at 9:20 Pm, or around there. I love him and always will.

Love or War: by Kristin

Love, war, both a struggle,
It's all life and death,
Brother killing brother,
knuckle to knuckle.

Love is good, we all believe,
Oh how naive,
some day you'll have to pay,
the same price as me.

War is a beast,
and eats your soul,
one killing another,
the murdering bowl.

War and love taking everything,
They take your name,
and I realize,
Love and War are both the same.

Drama, Done or not? By Kristin.

Drama, you've ruined my life.
You're not a person,
but you're nothing but strife,
I'm so mad I should be cursin'.

Look here drama,
you're taking away my friends,
and replacing them with evil dharma,
while I've got nothing to lend.

So go to hell,
you deserve it all, it's true,
Because in the end,
I'm totally done with you.

The Snowy Field-by Kristin

Rain, hail, stormy, I know,
but nothing compares to snow.
It's white and pure,
who could ask for more?

Innocent, and white,
pure as heaven's light,
so if heaven is everything hell is not,
wouldn't it be better to wear sweaters?

As it falls,
snow is pure,
but once it's black,
it has hit the floor.

So here I sit,
thinking in a logic that curls,
that the person who did this all to me,
was the world.

I know where I'll go,
after 10, follows 11,
just like life before death,
I hope I'll go to heaven.

No Hope Left Here:
I did this poem through mandatory command for my research project which involved a poet. I cannot exactly replicate the poem since I do not have it in my posession but I will try:

There is no hope left in this world,
when the wild wind blows away life.
Or when the hair of the irish girl,
suffers and withers from blight.

There is no hope left here,
when the blushing bride weeps and cries,
When the bridegroom runs off,
Divorces, or dies.


Sadness and Betrayal is what's left behind,
when one loses their heart's path to whatever cause,
As if one lost their one of a kind,
and drops like a leaf to the ground, just falls.

Life is just pain altogether,
a waste of time, feelings, and breath.
Pain is it's only weather,
There is no hope for this world: only death.