Friends

Friends are forever
This I know to be true
If they are not there in person
They are in hte heart of you

Good friends will listen
And feel your pain
Good friends will cry
Because they feel the same

Friends make you smile
And make you feel good inside
Friends make you laugh
Until you want to cry

Some friends will drift apart
But ALWAYS thing of you
Wonder how you are doing
And if they're thinking of you too

No matter the distance
Or how long it's been since you've talked
Friends are always there for each other
Friends will never, forever depart

Friends are a blessing
And I find you to be one
Sent down from heaven
Sent down from above

You are my friend
And I will be there for you
Day time or night
Friends always remain true

I know I suck at poetry
I'm no where near as good as you
But I thought this would help tell you
What a great friend I find you!!!

-Ceara Bozikis

The Time of My Life

The time of my life

Twelve years of constant strife
Not a part of our day-
But of our life.

Everything began
Twelve years prior,
Hopes and dreams
We shall now acquire.
Time exclusively,
Decides it all
Our inner drive-
Too weak,
Too small.

Oh what a shame!
To be dictated by time
Lead so insincerely
Isn’t that a crime?
I guess now
After pondering the years,
Nothing is as it looks
Seems, or appears.

A lesson is taught
By the fourth dimension,
Should have put in more effort,
Paid more attention.
Too late, times up
There goes your last chance.
Peek at your photos
Take your last glance.

Now that it’s almost done,
It feels as if it had just begun
Those twelve years of constant strife,
Have given me, the time of my life.

-Jon Wimer

Today is a Gift

Today is a gift

Mid-may he fell
Onto his knees,
Screams were lost
Into the breeze,
No one heard
Him scream in pain,
His attempt;
Unsuccessful, worthless, vain.

An eternity passes
His pain unmarked,
Until the alarm was set
By someone who barked;
Although too late,
To change his state
Cold and stiff,
Not up for debate.

The impact he created
Was epic in size,
The world sniveled
As tears filled our eyes,
We were hit unexpected
Caught by surprise;
Thoughts, feelings, ideas
Started to arise.

When the world stopped spinning,
And we had time to recover
Many new things
Started to uncover,
We take life for granted
This is now known,
Helplessly wishing
We could be atoned.

We feel quite guilty,
For death was needed
Great ideas arose,
But death preceded.

The experience was not
The epitome of "pleasant"
But from it we learned
Why we call it "the present"

-Jon Wimer

My Friend, My Secret

My friend, My secret.

I'm trying to not think of you
And I'm trying not to care
And I'm trying to just talk to you
Not scare you, when I share;
And I'm not trying to make a move
And I'm not trying to make it weird
And I'm trying (and yes, sometimes it sucks)
Not to act as I have feared;
And I'm trying to forget my feelings
When I'm close to you
I've learned to just ignore it all
It's much easier to be untrue.

-Jon Wimer

Untitled ("Nothing" Explained)

This is my emo poem, I was working on it, then got distracted, so I never finished it...Oh well, here it is anyway-

Untitled

They all think they know me,
Think they know what's inside,
But there's just too much stuff,
That I've been trying to hide.

Whenever I'm upset,
Or look really blue,
They always ask me,
What's wrong with you?
Nothing, I reply,
As shake my head,
I could explain my problem,
But I say "Nothing" instead.
Nothing is better
Then me trying to explain;
Because they cant comprehend,
Can't understand my pain.

When I think about it,
My problems aren't that bad,
They're just hard to deal with,
And they make me really sad.

-Jon Wimer

What is it, if its not Love?

What is it, if it's not love?

Just sitting here
With nothing to do;
Thinking of writing
Thinking of you.
Trying to decided
Just what to say;
I love you sounds right.
Oh what a cliché!

It sounds good the first
Yet reading again;
I love you sounds foolish
Like an old fountain pen.

How could I fathom
What love is about;
For I am no witness
Without a doubt.

Sixteen years
Ive lived on this earth,
And not even once
Have I known its true worth.
A four-letter word
So simple and pure
I cannot use it,
For I am not sure.

I wish I could make
You feel the same
If only words could do that;
Without sounding so lame.
If my words could make us
A little less distant,
Then forever I'd be
So very persistent.

I'd write everyday,
Until my hands turned blue
And even then,
I'd keep writing for you.
I'd write in Latin
And Chinese and Greek.
I'd write in Swahili
And even Band Geek.
My writing would be
New and unique,
Surprising and daring
Cunning and chic.
It wouldn't be the usual
Boring and dry,
It would have a reason
No need for "Why?"

Trying to think
Of how to end;
Lets start at the top,
Now where'd we begin?

Oh now I remember,
No need for review,
I was just sitting here
With nothing to do;
I thought of writing
So I thought of you,
Then came the truth,
With out further ado.

-Jon Wimer

As the Wind Blows

As the Wind Blows

Wind blowing through the trees,
through the branches and through the leaves;
you know its there, with out a doubt,
makes you angry makes you shout,
makes you cry for reasons unknown,
listen to it whine and moan,
unbeknownst to you and I,
there is a reason, and a why,
we'll have to guess, to imply,
because there's nothing to reply.

Love and wind are the same,
yet one is wild, the other tame,
both keep secrets, never share,
filled with joy and despair,
never see them, yet they're there,
you can feel them, you're aware.

It took a man old and wise,
to get me to realize,
that I couldn't see love or the wind,
nor should I try to comprehend,
for feeling alone, cannot explicate,
I begged and pleaded for him to restate,
for I was puzzled, baffled, confused,
he was laughing, mildly amused,
he chucked, sighed, then said okay,
he told me my feelings wouldn't lead me astray,
I would have to look at what my feelings said,
I'd have to use my heart, not my head,
And so I did, and quickly understood,
I learned a hard lesson, and now you should,
I turned to leave, and felt a breeze,
as the wind blew through the trees.

-Jon Wimer