Dear Phiiip,

You are an amazing young man,
Wrought with all the things
     That good men are made of.

I understand as well as you
That the world doesn't understand
     Us, and it never could.

We go together, two peas in a pod,
Inseparable by nature and bond,
     Twins by thinking.

Know that I've got your back,
Just as I know that you've got mine;
     Keep strong and true.

Sincerely,

Your sister

Dear Matéo, (II)

I remember

[this greatly impacted me]

 

Playing games with you,

     Running into each other with couch cushions.

Convincing our brother

     That maple tree seed pods were candy.

That your favorite books were not mine -

     Perl, Java, C++, HTML, and SQL.

Playing on the banister of the landing,

     Then going down to the family room to play some more.

 

When we would dress up at grandma's house,

     You always chose to be an owl.

You learned to take the greatest caution

     When trying anything I had made with food.

Next you learned not to try anything

     That I had made, regardless if others would eat it.

But then you learned that I had learned

     And now you aren't as wary about what I cook.

 

Your mind always excelled

     At computer games and programming.

You started stamp collecting,

     But stopped somewhere along the way.

Instead you collected coins

     And various currency of intrinsic value.

You were prudent and wise,

     A natural outpouring of your character.

 

You thought me and our brother strange,

     But loved us nonetheless.

You never really cried,

     I can't remember a single instance.

You worked hard at school,

     And always tried to do your best.

You were a major influencing factor

     In my own geeky streak.

There are little snippets

     Here and there without pattern

Of things that I remember.

     And I remember them well.

Now you're moving onward with your life,

     You always have been.

I pray that God who has seen you through thus far

     Shall continue to do so 'til the end.

Sincerely,

Your sister

Dear Matéo,

It hurts.

Don't you understand?

I missed

[I chose not to look for]

 you.

Your quiet character

And reserved demeanor.

Your secret schemes,

      Laid like traps,

As young children

     Are wont to do.

I missed

[I didn't think you were worthy of my attention]

you.

Your knowing smiles,

And aversions to cameras.

Your application to studies

And desire to be your best.

Your daily devotions

And all the hidden secrets.

Don't you understand?

It hurts.

I missed

[I had closed myself off from everyone]

Most of my chances

To know you for who you are

So when people ask these days

I could tell them so much more

     Than

Merely your age and name,

Where you went to school

And now are attending.

     More

Than just your majors

And where you want to go.

It hurts.

Because I was negligent,

And ran away from the world.

I am the only one to blame.

For you were readily there

And are to this day.

And yet.

Regrets.

It hurts.

I missed

[let life pass by unnoticed]

you.

Regards,
Your sister

Poem Snippet #4 (just for the fun of it)

From Data's "Ode to Spot" (Star Trek:TNG, "Schisms")

"O Spot, the complex levels of behaviour you display
connote a fairly well-developed cognitive array.
And though you are not sentient, Spot, and do not comprehend,
I nonetheless consider you a true and valued friend."

Surrealism (list poem)

A day in the life,
     ... Still a bad dream.
The sheep and the goats
     Talk.
Fireflies
     Viva la vida.

Bittersweet blackbird,
Do you feel all my tears?
Cover me;
     Everybody's changing.

Everything fades,
     Faith,
          Hope,
               And happiness;
Illusion and dream.

Bittersweet blackbird,
Say (all I need),
     Should you return.
Tell me something good,
Maybe tomorrow
     Is a better day.

We Fall

We fall,
In Gothic cathedral music,
Soprano solo the cry
     Of humanity.
Plunging down to the bass,
Rumbling the air currents
Until we are hushed
     By crystal bell.

We fall,
Sorrow and madness of descent,
Not knowing if we shall survive
     The landing
On bare rocks and pinnacles,
Stretching to pierce sky and flesh,
With no respecter of persons;
     This we fear.

We fall,
The same hope plead by all hearts,
Proclaimed by the unheard words,
     Catch us.
And surely our cries our heard
Among the whistling wind
And roaring gales in canyons
     Of fear, death.

We fall,
As all our nations and peoples do,
Crashing unto proverbial darkness,
     Screaming.
The watched ones,
Never descending alone,
Yet never together,
     In want.

We fall,
Waiting for the sickening sound
Of our bodies impaled by shale,
     Terror.
Our guard does not stand idly by;
Serenity watches while we fall
Holding out hands to catch
     Us all.

Poem Snippet #3

Snippet from "Horizonte" by Antionio Machado (translated by Richard L. Predmore)

"La gloria del ocaso era un purpúreo espejo,
era un cristal de llamas, que al infinito viejo
iba arrojando el grave soñar en la llanura. . .
Y yo sentí la espuela sonora de mi paso
repercutir lejana en el sangriento ocaso,
y más allá, la alegre canción de un alba pura."

Translation:

"The glory of the sunset was a purple mirror,
it was a flaming lens which to old infinity
projected my solemn dreaming on the plain. . .
And I heard the sonorous spur of my step
reverberate far off against the bloody sunset,
and beyond, the joyful music of a pure dawn."

Poem Snippet #2

Snippet from "House by the Side of the Road" by Sam Walter Foss

"And still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone."

Poem Snippet #1

Snippet from "The McPoem" by Ronald Wallace:

"I must confess that I, too, like it:
the poem that's fried up flat and fast with condiments
on a sesame seed bun.  Steamy, grease-spattered,
and juicy, fluent with salt, piping hot
from the grill, glazed with bubbling oil."