More to Come....

Got nothing new to post, but I'm working on it.  Novels are next, but there's some editing to do first.

Poetry: Untitled

Untitled

I am sound in mind, body, and spirit.

I am strong, and I have faith.

I feel the lingering touch of his deep love.

Love he had for me.

Love that came from depths unknown to any other.

I feel the emptiness left behind.

Only the lingering things are left.

His gentle touch with fingers warm and soft,

Caressing my cheek in silent devotion.

His warmth is now cold loneliness.

I was sound in mind, body, and spirit.

I was strong, and I still have faith.

I feel the eternal touch of his deep love.

Love he has for me.

Love that still comes from depths unknown to any other.

I feel him though he is not here.

Only his love is left.

His gentle touch with angel’s wings warm and soft,

Enveloping my body in silent devotion.

His warmth keeps me from grief and sorrow.

We will be together again, my love.

When my faith gives me wings.

We will love again, my love.

Your fingers will caress my cheek again.

Our love will be forever.

To you I make this promise.

Drawing: Cloud

Drawing: Outlaw Star

Drawing: Gundam

Drawing: Fullmetal Alchemist

Drawing: .Hack, King of Bandits Jing,

Drawing: Witch Hunter Robin

Drawing: Disgaea 2

Drawing: Disgaea

Drawing: Yang, Street Fighter

Drawing: Yun, Street Fighter

Drawing: Kingdom Hearts

Drawing: Goku

Drawing: Chrono Trigger, Marlye 2

Drawing: Chrono Trigger, Chrono 2

Drawing: Chrono Trigger, Chrono

Drawing: Chrono Trigger, Marlye

Drawing: Daisuke

Drawing: Gene Starwind

Drawing: Chun Li

Drawing: Ryu

Poetry: A Small Trinket

A SMALL TRINKET

A trinket, small, insignificant to many.
It is a reminder,
A priceless treasure to me,
It is a bear, a small, brown bear.
Its velvet heart, now worn away,
Its cotton fur dirtied and flattened.
It is all I have left,
The last link to a past unknown.
So I keep it to remind me.
It is there to help me to not forget
What little I remember, and how much I know now.
It is a small brown bear, a trinket, insignificant to many.

Poetry: The Cherry Blossom Trees

            The Cherry Blossom Trees

We stand together in this tamed forest.

You have asked me to come.

You run your hand through your hair as,

I ask you if you love me.

The Cherry Blossoms are the eternal witnesses.

Witnesses of this ritual, a ritual of love.

Many times they have heard the same reply.

How can I expect you to understand my meaning?

I forgot, you are afraid of love.

I turn to leave, my question answered.

Four words that crush my heart, linger.

Of course I do, your reply.

I turn to leave you, you who can’t love me.

A warm hand falls on my shoulders, it is yours.

Wait, you say, and I look again.

I look again at your dark eyes and,

You take your gloves off, finally.

What else could such words mean?

I love someone who can’t love me.

Your reply has made that clear.

The Cherry Blossoms, the eternal witnesses.

I love you, I do.  I love you so much; your words.

Your words strike my heart,

Awakening within me, hope.

How soft your hands are, how tan, as

Your gloves fall to the brilliantly tiled floor.

Your eyes, filled with genuine emotion.

Your arms are wrapped around me.

Your hands are so warm on my back.

Your lips are so soft against mine.

The Cherry Blossoms have always known.

Poetry: A Fire that Smolders

A FIRE THAT SMOLDERS

What is Passion?

Can anyone know?

Is it devotion, determination,

Or a fire smoldering,

Waiting for a gentle breath,

To give it the power to ignite?

Whose breath is gentle enough?

If care is not taken, the fire may go out.

It needs a gentle breath to keep it going,

To keep it smoldering like coals.

Or will it be allowed to die,

Leaving only cold?

Who can know and tend the fire?

Who can breathe gently upon them,

The red coals, and keep them,

From growing black and bitter?

Who will tend the fire?

What is Passion?

How can I know?

I have devotion, determination,

But I have no gentle breath,

No one to tend my fire.

So it has grown black and cold.

Poetry: Standing on the Edge of an Ocean

           Standing on the Edge of an Ocean

I stand on this ledge, watching.
          The Sun's final rays shine golden.
                    The waves crash below me.
                            The thunderous sound of water on jagged rock.

It is hard to tell whether I cry.
           The spray of the ocean mists me.
                       I stand here, on this ledge.
                                   It is a question of existence.

 My life has brought me here,
           To stand on the edge of the earth,
                      Watching the falling sun.
                                 Watching the waves wash everything away.

It is a question of existence,

         My standing here,

                    My hopeful observation.

                                  It is a question of why or why not.

My arms open wide to embrace this world.

         I close my eyes, realizing my tears.

                     At least the waves acknowledge me. 

                                When the time comes, they will offer a welcome.

A gull screeches and drops low on frothy mountains.

             The waves crash against jagged rock.

                        The sun shines its final light as I say goodbye.

                                    The question has been answered.

I turn from the white-capped mountains of blue.

       My bare feet navigate jagged rock.

                 I will come here again someday, to the waiting sea.

                        But for now my life awaits me, it welcomes me home.

Let it Begin

I've finally decided to create a blog in order to share some of the works that come out of my over active creativity and ceaseless thinking.  This will be the home for my drawings, my writing, and whatever else comes up. Hopefully, someday, this blog will be for others and not just for myself, but until then, I guess it's more of a "Dear Diary" kind of thing.  Oh, well.  Let the ceaseless wandering begin.