Happiness

Happiness is:
1. Falling in love.
2. Laughing so hard till your face hurts.
3. A hot shower.
4. No lines at the supermarket.
5. A special glance.
6. Getting mail.
7. Taking a drive on a pretty road.
8. Hearing your favourite song on the radio.
9. Lying in bed listening to the rain outside.
10. Hot towels fresh out of the dryer.
11. Chocolate milkshake ... (or vanilla ... or strawberry!)
12. A bubble bath.
13. Giggling.
14. A good conversation.
15. The beach
16. Finding a 20-pound note in your coat from last winter.
17. Laughing at yourself.
18. Eye contact with a hot member of the opposite sex.
19. Midnight phone calls that last for hours.
20. Running through sprinklers.
21. Laughing for absolutely no reason at all.
22. Having someone tell you that you're beautiful/good looking.
23. Laughing at an inside joke.
24. Friends.
25. Accidentally overhearing someone say something nice about you.
26. Waking up and realizing you still have a few hours left to sleep.
27. Your first kiss (either the very first or with a new partner).
28. Making new friends or spending time with old ones.
29. Playing with a new puppy.
30. Having someone play with your hair.
31. Sweet dreams.
32. Hot chocolate.
33. Road trips with friends.
34. Swinging on swings.
35. Making eye contact with a cute stranger.
36. Making chocolate chip cookies (and eating them...!).
37. Having your friends send you homemade cookies.
38. Holding hands with someone you care about.
39. Running into an old friend and realizing that some things (good or bad) never change.
40. Watching the expression on someone's face as they open a much-desired present from you.
41. Watching the sunrise.
42. Getting out of bed every morning and being grateful for another beautiful day.
43. Knowing that somebody misses you.
44. Getting a hug from someone you care about deeply.
45. Knowing you've done the right thing, no matter what other people think.

Secret

Secrets, secrets
Lies, lies
She sits in her room,
cries and cries.
There's no more trust
In this girl's heart.
She finally found out
That life isn't perfect.
She lived in her dreams
As some often do
But she crawled out
Into the world everyone knew
Things that once were
Happiness once known;
The truth of it all
To her was shown
Her tortured heart
Will never trust again.
She'll never know
A real true friend.
No more trust,
For no more lies.
She'll sit in her room
And cry and cry.

She Is Actually ??

She Has Secrets You'll Never Know Or Understand,
She Appears So Strong On The Outside,
But On The Inside Her World Is Spinnin Upside Down.
Shes Smiling And Standing Tall 2 The Outta World,
Shes Crying And Breaking Down In Her Inner World.

She Appears So Happy 2 Her Mates,
But Alone, She Shares Her Tears With Her Pillow.
She Knows Not 2 Get Her Hopes Up,
As They Always Come Crashing Down.
Shes Heard It All Before & Felt It All.
Shes Experienced More Then Her Fair Share.
1 Touch, & She'll Flinch
1 Harsh, Word & She'll Cry
1 Bad Moment, & She'll Break Down

She Trusts No1, Because The People She Has, Hurt Her & Leave Her 2 Pick Up The Pieces
She Believes No1, Because The People She Has, Lie & Betray Her.
So For Now She'll Keep 2 Herself & Pretend Everything Is Fine, When Everything Is Wrong

I Know This Girl, Because This Girl...
Is Me.

A Little Girl...

A little girl and her father were crossing a bridge.
The father was kind of scared so he asked his little daughter:
"Sweetheart, please hold my hand so that you don't fall into the river." The little girl said:
"No, Dad. You hold my hand."
"What's the difference?" Asked the puzzled father.

"There's a big difference," replied the little girl.
"If I hold your hand and something happens to me, chances are that I may let your hand go. But if you hold my hand, I know for sure that no matter what happens, you will never let my hand go."

In any relationship, the essence of trust is not in its bind, but in its bond. So hold the hand of the person whom you love rather than expecting them to hold yours...

Forgive Me

You forgive me for liking you too much,
And I'll forgive you for not liking me enough.

You forgive me for missing you so,
And I'll forgive you for being so cold.

You forgive me for the loud racing of my heart,
And I'll forgive you for not hearing it.

You forgive me for playing your games,
And I'll forgive you for toying with my emotions.

You forgive me for finding you so attractive,
And I'll forgive you for not noticing.

You forgive me for raising you up so high,
And I'll forgive you for bringing me down so low.

You forgive me for wanting to be with you,
And I'll forgive you for avoiding me.

You forgive me for being so pathetic,
And I'll forgive you for taking advantage of it.

You forgive me for not being able to let go,
And I'll forgive you for never having latched on.

You forgive me for having hopes and dreams,
And I'll forgive you for crushing them.

Forgiveness brings inner peace.
Do we have a deal?

Love & Forgiveness

I know i'm not a perfect friend,
You're broken heart, i've tried to mend.
Instead i made you hurt and cry,
Maybe i should say goodbye.
Would it be better for me to go?,
I asked you, and you said "No".
Why say no when i hurt you so bad,
But believe me,
you're not the only one that's sad.
I made my best friend hurt like mad,
If i left would you be glad?.
Deep in my heart,
I'll always know,
I'll love you always,
Even if i go!

Best Friend

Our inside jokes-too many to name.
When we're apart it's never the same.
When we're together it's nothing but fun.
Replacing my girls just can't be done.
As the years pass,
and we grow apart.
I want you to know,
that you guys are in my heart.
You helped me through problems,
through things good and bad.
You helped me keep smiling :-),
when I was sad.
You helped me with guys,
you made me stay strong.
How will I live,
when you guys are gone?
And where the years take us,
no place is too far.
We will think of each other,
wherever we are.
You're wonderful people,
with good hearts to lend.
And I want you to know,
that ya'll will always be my Best Friends

Forever Friend

Sometimes in life, you find a special friend. Someone who changes your life just by being part of it. Someone who makes you laugh until you can't stop. Someone who makes you believe that there really is good in the world. Someone who convinces you that there really is an unlocked door just waiting for you to open it. This is forever friendship. When you're down and the world seems dark and empty, your forever friend lifts you up in spirit and makes that dark and empty world suddenly seem bright and full. Your forever friend gets you through the hard times, the sad times an dthe confused times. If you turn and walk away, your forever friend follows. If you lose your way, your forever friend guides you and cheers you on. Your forever friend hold your hand and tells you that everything is going to be okay. And if you find such a friend, you feel happy and complete because you need not worry. You have a forever friend, and forever has no end.

Choices in Life

Life isn't just about keeping score.
It's not about how many people call you
And it's not about who you've dated or haven't dated at all.
It isn't about who you've kissed,
What sport you play,
Or which guy or girl likes you.
It's not about your shoes or your hair
Or the color of your skin,
Or where you live or go to school.
In fact it's not about grades, money,
Clothes, or colleges that accept you or not.
Life isn't about if you have lots of friends or if you are alone,
And it's not about how accepted or unaccepted you are.
Life isn't about that.
But life is about who you love and who you hurt.
It's about how you feel about yourself.
It's about trust, happiness, and compassion.
It's about avoiding jealousy, overcoming ignorance
And building confidence.
It's about what you say and what you mean.
It's about seeing people for who they are and not for what they have.
Most of all it is choosing to use your life.
In a way that could have neverbeen achieved otherwise.
These choices are what life's about.

Hari Baru, Minggu Baru, Semester Baru..

Assalamualaikum..
Kepada semua sahabatku di mana2 jua, xkisahla sama ada di UPSI, UiTM, poli, matrik, UIA, UUM, UKM, mana2 jelah..
Mulakan semester baru anda dengan azam untuk mendapat keputusan exam yg lebih baik..
Belajar tu memangla penting, tapi janganla sampai tak rehat atau tak beriadah langsung plak kan..
Buatla sebarang aktiviti yg boleh me"release"kan tensyen tu..
Tpi janganla sampai melanggar hukum2 agama plak, dosa oooo...
Anyway, keep in touch k..
To Amri, Azim, Omar, Arip...
Nnti klau aku sempat, aku g shah alam..jmpa kt MERANTI..kt meja bulat..
Muahahaah

Turtle

Who would be a turtle who could help it?
A barely mobile hard roll, a four-oared helmet,
She can ill afford the chances she must take
In rowing toward the grasses that she eats.
Her track is graceless, like dragging
A packing-case places, and almost any slope
Defeats her modest hopes. Even being practical,
She’s often stuck up to the axle on her way
To something edible. With everything optimal,
She skirts the ditch which would convert
Her shell into a serving dish. She lives
Below luck-level, never imagining some lottery
Will change her load of pottery to wings.
Her only levity is patience,
The sport of truly chastened things.

Snow

Walking through a field with my little brother Seth

I pointed to a place where kids had made angels in the snow.
For some reason, I told him that a troop of angels
had been shot and dissolved when they hit the ground.

He asked who had shot them and I said a farmer.




Then we were on the roof of the lake.
The ice looked like a photograph of water.

Why he asked. Why did he shoot them.

I didn't know where I was going with this.

They were on his property, I said.




When it's snowing, the outdoors seem like a room.

Today I traded hellos with my neighbor.
Our voices hung close in the new acoustics.
A room with the walls blasted to shreds and falling.

We returned to our shoveling, working side by side in silence.




But why were they on his property, he asked.

She Didn't Mean to Do It

Oh, she was sad, oh, she was sad.
She didn't mean to do it.

Certain thrills stay tucked in your limbs,
go no further than your fingers, move your legs through their paces,
but no more. Certain thrills knock you flat
on your sheets on your bed in your room and you fade
and they fade. You falter and they're gone, gone, gone.
Certain thrills puff off you like smoke rings,
some like bell rings growing out, out, turning
brass, steel, gold, till the whole world's filled
with the gonging of your thrills.

But oh, she was sad, she was just sad, sad,
and she didn't mean to do it.

One Morning

Looking for distinctive stones, I found the dead otter
rotting by the tideline, and carried all day the scent of this savage
valediction. That headlong high sound the oystercatcher makes
came echoing through the rocky cove
where a cormorant was feeding and submarining in the bay
and a heron rose off a boulder where he'd been invisible,
drifted a little, stood again -- a hieroglyph
or just longevity reflecting on itself
between the sky clouding over and the lightly ruffled water.

This was the morning after your dream of dying, of being held
and told it didn't matter. A butterfly went jinking over
the wave-silky stones, and where I turned
to go up the road again, a couple in a blue camper sat
smoking their cigarettes over their breakfast coffee (blue
scent of smoke, the thick dark smell of fresh coffee)
and talking in quiet voices, first one then the other answering,
their radio telling the daily news behind them. It was warm.
All seemed at peace. I could feel the sun coming off the water.

Bad Day

Not every day
is a good day
for the elfin tailor.
Some days
the stolen cloth
reveals what it
was made for:
a handsome weskit
or the jerkin
of an elfin sailor.
Other days
the tailor
sees a jacket
in his mind
and sets about
to find the fabric.
But some days
neither the idea
nor the material
presents itself;
and these are
the hard days
for the tailor elf.

The Distances

This house, pitched now
The dark wide stretch
Of plains and ocean
To these hills over
The night-filled river,
Billows with night,
Swells with the rooms
Of sleeping children, pulls
Slowly from this bed,
Slowly returns, pulls and holds,
Is held where we
Lock all distances!

Ah, how the distances
Spiral from that
Secrecy:
Room,
Rooms, roof
Spun to the huge
Midnight, and into
The rings and rings of stars.

The End And The Beginning

After every war
someone has to clean up.
Things won't
straighten themselves up, after all.

Someone has to push the rubble
to the side of the road,
so the corpse-filled wagons
can pass.

Someone has to get mired
in scum and ashes,
sofa springs,
splintered glass,
and bloody rags.

Someone has to drag in a girder
to prop up a wall,
Someone has to glaze a window,
rehang a door.

Photogenic it's not,
and takes years.
All the cameras have left
for another war.

We'll need the bridges back,
and new railway stations.
Sleeves will go ragged
from rolling them up.

Someone, broom in hand,
still recalls the way it was.
Someone else listens
and nods with unsevered head.
But already there are those nearby
starting to mill about
who will find it dull.

From out of the bushes
sometimes someone still unearths
rusted-out arguments
and carries them to the garbage pile.

Those who knew
what was going on here
must make way for
those who know little.
And less than little.
And finally as little as nothing.

In the grass that has overgrown
causes and effects,
someone must be stretched out
blade of grass in his mouth
gazing at the clouds.

This Moment

A neighbourhood.
At dusk.

Things are getting ready
to happen
out of sight.

Stars and moths.
And rinds slanting around fruit.

But not yet.

One tree is black.
One window is yellow as butter.

A woman leans down to catch a child
who has run into her arms
this moment.

Stars rise.
Moths flutter.
Apples sweeten in the dark.

Fast Break

A hook shot kisses the rim and
hangs there, helplessly, but doesn't drop,

and for once our gangly starting center
boxes out his man and times his jump

perfectly, gathering the orange leather
from the air like a cherished possession

and spinning around to throw a strike
to the outlet who is already shoveling

an underhand pass toward the other guard
scissoring past a flat-footed defender

who looks stunned and nailed to the floor
in the wrong direction, trying to catch sight

of a high, gliding dribble and a man
letting the play develop in front of him

in slow motion, almost exactly
like a coach's drawing on the blackboard,

both forwards racing down the court
the way that forwards should, fanning out

and filling the lanes in tandem, moving
together as brothers passing the ball

between them without a dribble, without
a single bounce hitting the hardwood

until the guard finally lunges out
and commits to the wrong man

while the power-forward explodes past them
in a fury, taking the ball into the air

by himself now and laying it gently
against the glass for a lay-up,

but losing his balance in the process,
inexplicably falling, hitting the floor

with a wild, headlong motion
for the game he loved like a country

and swiveling back to see an orange blur
floating perfectly through the net.

Blind

It's okay if the world goes with Venetian;
Who cares what Italians don't see?-
Or with Man's Bluff (a temporary problem
Healed by shrieks and cheating)-or with date:
Three hours of squirming repaid by laughs for years.

But when an old woman, already deaf,
Wakes from a night of headaches, and the dark
Won't disappear-when doctors call like tedious
Birds, "If only..." up and down hospital halls-
When, long-distance, I hear her say, "Don't worry.

Honey, I'll be fine," is it a wonder
If my mind speeds down blind alleys?
If the adage "Love is blind" has never seemed
So true? If, in a flash of blinding light
I see Justice drop her scales, yank off

Her blindfold, stand revealed - a monster-god
With spidery arms and a mouth like a black hole-
While I leap, ant-sized, at her feet, blinded
By tears, raging blindly as, sense by sense,
My mother is sucked away?

I've Been Known

to spread it on thick to shoot off my mouth to get it off my chest
to tell him where
to get off
to stay put to face the music to cut a shine to go under to sell
myself short to play
myself down
to paint the town to fork over to shell out to shoot up to pull a
fast one to go haywire
to take a shine to
to be stuck on to glam it up to vamp it up to get her one better to
eat a little higher
on the hog
to win out to get away with to go to the spot to make a stake to
make a stand to
stand for something to stand up for
to snow under to slip up to go for it to take a stab at it to try out
to go places to play
up to get back at
to size up to stand off to slop over to be solid with to lose my
shirt to get myself off
to get myself off the hook

Biscuits

The dog has cleaned his bowl
and his reward is a biscuit,
which I put in his mouth
like a priest offering the host.

I can't bear that trusting face!
He asks for bread, expects
bread, and I in my power
might have given him a stone.

The Green One Over There

My half-brother had dark sad eyes, wheaten hair
and the same gorgeous skin his mother had.
He was cute and smart and innately kind,
unlike me at his age, according to our father.
Five years younger than me,
Tim attracted all the love
my father had frozen in his heart
when I was growing up.
Tim was brought up on my old books.
He did better than I with poetry,
reciting by six some “grownup” verses
which I couldn’t memorize at eleven.
At eight he wrote a poem
at the back of his math exercise book
and forgot about it.
It was a love poem
with an underlined dedication, “To A.”
It so happened that I knew who A was.
The poem read as follows:
“I loved and missed her so much
that I forgot what she looked like,
and when she entered the classroom
in the morning, I did not recognize her.
I did not recognize her long face,
nor her slow neck, nor her skinny hands,
I had completely forgotten her green eyes.”
It was quite a work of art, in my opinion,
but I told him that to sigh about
legs and necks and eyes
was sentimental and girlish.
He listened to me with dry eyes
and then tore out the page and threw it away
into the wastebasket.
He never wrote poetry again, but I did.
At fifteen I wrote a short story
which had some success and was even
published in a teenage literary magazine
called “Asterisks.” It was around that time
that I stopped visiting my dad’s house
after I realized
that everything about this boy
put me down, humiliated me
and filled me with jealousy.
I would meet dad on one condition:
if he wanted to see me,
he had to come to my place
or to stop by at the artsy café,
where my older friend Lena and I
would go after school
to sip strawberry milkshakes.
One day my father
came to my school during class hours
to take me to a hospital: the night before
my half-brother had gotten sick.
We arrived in the middle of the doctor’s rounds.
The waiting area was noisy
and smelled of urine and medication.
Dad had gone inside,
I waited for him to call me in.
Through the door left ajar
I saw a row of iron bunks with striped mattresses.
Tim’s was next to the door.
He lay leaning on a big gray pillow,
a glass of water in his hand.
The doctor wanted him to take a pill,
but he wouldn’t hear of it.
He was willful, obstreperous,
he pushed away the hand of medicine.
“I want that ship, that ship …” he whined.
“What ship?” My father turned pale
and stared at the doctor. “Can’t you see?
The green one, over there!” cried Tim,
inserting his finger in the glass of water
where a green ship, a three-funneled steamer,
was slowly sinking at the time.

The Farewell

They say the ice will hold
so there I go,
forced to believe them by my act of trusting people,
stepping out on it,

and naturally it gaps open
and I, forced to carry on coolly
by my act of being imperturbable,
slide erectly into the water wearing my captain's helmet,
waving to the shore with a sad smile,
"Goodbye my darlings, goodbye dear one,"
as the ice meets again over my head with a click.

Did I Miss Anything?

Nothing. When we realized you weren’t here
we sat with our hands folded on our desks
in silence, for the full two hours

Everything. I gave an exam worth
40 percent of the grade for this term
and assigned some reading due today
on which I’m about to hand out a quiz
worth 50 percent

Nothing. None of the content of this course
has value or meaning
Take as many days off as you like:
any activities we undertake as a class
I assure you will not matter either to you or me
and are without purpose

Everything. A few minutes after we began last time
a shaft of light suddenly descended and an angel
or other heavenly being appeared
and revealed to us what each woman or man must do
to attain divine wisdom in this life and
the hereafter
This is the last time the class will meet
before we disperse to bring the good news to all people
on earth.

Nothing. When you are not present
how could something significant occur?

Everything. Contained in this classroom
is a microcosm of human experience
assembled for you to query and examine and ponder
This is not the only place such an opportunity has been
gathered

but it was one place

And you weren’t here