Why are the best words always the ones that are sad?
Itís so hard to express anything other than broken, pitiful or mad.
Weíve forgotten the romance of an ocean filled with the moon,
An abyss of lavender fields dancing to the eastern winds tune.
The scent of crushed grass beneath bareshod and stained feet,
Or a night at the theatre, overtime has gone to pay for front row seats.
It possibly due to the universal nature of our shared pain.
The human state is one filled with more heartache than gain.
It has always been far easier to relate to a message of angst.
Itís so easy to relate to coz weíve all heard the same rants.
The joy in life is more difficult to put into a poetic sonnet.
So I instead pick up the sad bastard mantle and don it.
These words are to deny, defy this sad, self destructive habit
Iím throwing down the gauntlet; hereís where I pull out a white rabbit.
Our joys are unique, special, individual and specific to us.
Happiness is rarely shared just in case our bubble goes bust.
Private joys stay that way, locked away deep in our heart of hearts.
This poem is my way of releasing these locked up ecstatic parts.
Here are mine, the things that make me smile in the darkest hours.
My music, Ellora and Corbin, Singing with my sister, Fawlty towers,
Writing home to mum, Writing a story, Cloying sweet lavender scent,
Giving a gift, Walking on a starry night, Hanging with friends; a night well spent,
My novel collection, My dragons, My dreams, Memories of loved ones lost,
Thoughts of loved ones gained, Doing whatís right no matter the cost.
Wizbian, Waggy, Travis, Kurt, Zimmer, Sam, Bodie and Matt,
Purd-turd, Steve, Jonothon, Hippie, Martie, Fergo, Jarmyn and Cat
Gossard, Haggis, Dommie, Lise, Meggles, Ann,††Tony, Jodie and Dimes
Krystal, Meenda, Jamie and Chelle. Thank god some of these names rhyme
Sleep well children, sleep silent because their will always be joy.
For me there will always be love, happiness and pretty toys.
There are awful things that happen to all of us every single day.
But it is not these horrid things that guide us on our long and arduous way.
The road ahead is dark and angry and yet it is sporadically lit.
It is these tiny moments of joy that make being alive worth it.