August 6, 2011
Look who's back! Miki here and yes. I am alive contrary to popular belief. So now that it'a around that time again, I'll be more enthusiatic and active with my site. Look forward to new poems and all that jazz.
+2 poems
~Miki

July 21, 2011
I'm sorry but Sun Raiz is going to stay on hiatus. It's summer. Give me a break. Once school starts back up, as weird as that is, I'll be more active since I'll be busier. Wait. What? Never mind. But I'll be back August 10 in a few weeks. Until then!
~Miki

July 5, 2011
So as you may have noticed, Sun Raiz has been on Hiatus since I went back to camp. I just forgot to announce it. Anyway new layout V2://BubleBuble. Happy? I'm going to China for 12 days starting tomorrow~ so don't expect me back 'til the 20th and then my birthday is right then... I'm SOOOO BUSY! Anyway hope you like the new layout! No new poems or anything. 'BYE!!!!
+2 affies
~~Miki

Love

The soft air
The summer breeze
The bee's stings

The sweet nights
The winking stars
Among other things

The nectar perfume
The flowers bloom
The sun in the morning
The moon's nightly gloom

The love in the air is for you

Bored Out of My Mind

yeah you read that right

im bored

i really dont know just what to do
im piggin out on the sofa too
ive got nothing in this world to do
watchin tv is getting boring, true

i havent even tried to move from the spot that i was
in 4 hours ago, sittin near the tv stars
an i dont have a goal in life chompin chips with you
cause im glued to the box that always has somethin new

i really dont know just what to do
im piggin out on the sofa too
ive got nothing in this world to do
watchin tv is getting boring, true

yeah you read that right

im bored

*(I have no idea what style this is but an educated guess makes me think that it's a small rap. Remember. SMALL.)*

Poem

Why can't I be black?
Why can't I be brown?
Why can't I be Chinese?
Why can't I be Mexican?
Why do I have to be what you want me to?
Why do I have to be white?
Why can't I be proud of the way I was born?
Why can't I be unafraid to tell you I'm from Iraq?
Why do you have to assume?
Why, if I'm from Russia, am I a communist?
Why, if I'm from Colombia, am I a druggie?
Why, if I'm white, do they glance over me when it really is me this time?
Why, if I'm black, do they automatically think it's me, my fault, my crime?
Why can't I be my OWN race?
Why can't I be me?

Cover

Run, when I say so.
Hide, when the bomb goes.
Crawl, when it's safe.
Get out before the peace forgoes.

Escape, from the dead land.
Travel, to a safer place.
Reinvent, you and your loved ones.
Get out and don't leave a trace.

Live, away from here.
Smile, in a land far, far away.
Listen, to me right now, right here.
Cover yourself and get out. Life is waiting.

Do You Really Hate Me?

Do you really hate me?
I don't think you do.
We're both only mistaken.
About each other, me and you.

We think we're both invincible,
That you're always right and headstrong.
We think we're both the experts,
While we're both just in the wrong.

I think we're both at fault here,
For not learning about the other.
It's just our own immaturity,
That keeps us from being closer.

It's true I don't know much about you,
But I'm trying to learn you see?
I'm trying to actually be your sister, so
Do you really hate me?

Lie to My Face

I know it's a lie, one way or the other.
I don't care if you want me to believe.
But don't say it to me when my back's turned.
Say it, right here, right now, to me.

I don't think that you're making sense here.
You know her better than you know me, inside and out.
End of story. Period. End of our discussion.
So, yes, you cheated. Strike three. Strikeout.

It's over between you and me, never again.
It's your fault, alone, it's your own issue.
Blame yourself not me. It's not my problem. We're done.
So go ahead and lie to my face, but I'm not believin' you.

The Mask

At home you're my brother,
But at school you avoid me.
What the heck?
Keep your problems to yourself.

Don't make me look a fool,
Because it's yourself you can't handle.
What the heck?
Just figure it out all on your own.

I'm here for you if you need it,
But you have to calm down.
What the heck?
I'm just trying to help you.

So if you really want me to help,
You need to give in.
What the heck?
Do you understand now?

I'm here to take off that mask
The one that keeps you from me,
From laughing, from joking.
The one that broke our sibling bond,
The one that covers your smiling face.
The mask that hides the real you.

What the heck?

Kookaburra

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Such a splendid bird perched there
Merry, merry king of the earth and sea
His head cocked to just one side
Laugh, Kookaburra! Laugh, Kookaburra!
He stares as though we're in his domain
Happy your life must be
And there he goes, off with a glide

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Back he comes with a fish in his mouth
Eating all the gum drops that he can see
Making a show for all to see
Stop, Kookaburra! Stop, Kookaburra!
But he stops for pictures, modelling
Leave some there for me
The Kookaburra is quite the beauty

Rosie

Rosie, hey Rosie,
It's me your dearest human,
Yes, I'm walking towards you slowly,
No need to stand, just stay in your nest,

Rosie, hey Rosie,
Are those baby birds I hear there?
Why didn't you tell me dearie?
Congratulations of course from me to you.

Rosie, hey Rosie,
Well, how's the old nest running?
Tell me all about your life, honey,
Or am I just a bother?

Rosie, hey Rosie,
No, never mind my old soul,
But it's time for our goodbye, so teary,
My life is just winding down.

Rosie, hey Rosie,
This is the last time I'll see you,
Our paths are each a different story,
And my time here is almost up.

Rosie, hey Rosie,
I'll miss you oh so terribly,
Now goodbye, my sweetest birdie,
And don't forget me now.

Rosie, hey Rosie,
I'll love you until I die,
But don't think you'll get rid of me easy,
For I'll keep watch over you, Rosie.

Rosie, hey Rosie,
What's been said and done is this,
So don't forget me, you hear me?
And now, goodbye, for you one last kiss.

Summer

Joining me, we walk,
in the garden of summer,
where life knows no bounds.

Perfect Gamble

i've told you i love you,
and yet here i am awake,
wondering if that's the day,
that day i made mistakes.

i'm never giving up though,
i want what i wanted before,
let's be the perfect duo,
since i don't know what's in store.

to let go of what's in the past,
you said tonight's the night,
never turn 'round to look back,
and do for us what's right.

i'll do whatever for you,
and you'll do the same for me,
just don't you bid me adieu,
cause i won't be too happy.

i'm still figuring it out,
so you'll just have to wait,
til I understand what love's all about,
and then we'll see about that date.

The Open Window

by Saki

My aunt will be down presently, Mr. Nuttel," said a very self-possessed young lady of fifteen; "in the meantime you must try and put up with me.

Framton Nuttel endeavoured to say the correct something which should duly flatter the niece of the moment without unduly discounting the aunt that was to come. Privately he doubted more than ever whether these formal visits on a succession of total strangers would do much towards helping the nerve cure which he was supposed to be undergoing.

I know how it will be," his sister had said when he was preparing to migrate to this rural retreat; "you will bury yourself down there and not speak to a living soul, and your nerves will be worse than ever from moping. I shall just give you letters of introduction to all the people I know there. Some of them, as far as I can remember, were quite nice.

Framton wondered whether Mrs. Sappleton, the lady to whom he was presenting one of the letters of introduction came into the nice division.

Do you know many of the people round here?" asked the niece, when she judged that they had had sufficient silent communion.

Hardly a soul," said Framton. "My sister was staying here, at the rectory, you know, some four years ago, and she gave me letters of introduction to some of the people here.

He made the last statement in a tone of distinct regret.

Then you know practically nothing about my aunt?" pursued the self-possessed young lady.

Only her name and address," admitted the caller. He was wondering whether Mrs. Sappleton was in the married or widowed state. An undefinable something about the room seemed to suggest masculine habitation.

Her great tragedy happened just three years ago," said the child; "that would be since your sister's time.

Her tragedy?" asked Framton; somehow in this restful country spot tragedies seemed out of place.

You may wonder why we keep that window wide open on an October afternoon," said the niece, indicating a large French window that opened on to a lawn.

It is quite warm for the time of the year," said Framton; "but has that window got anything to do with the tragedy?

Out through that window, three years ago to a day, her husband and her two young brothers went off for their day's shooting. They never came back. In crossing the moor to their favourite snipe-shooting ground they were all three engulfed in a treacherous piece of bog. It had been that dreadful wet summer, you know, and places that were safe in other years gave way suddenly without warning. Their bodies were never recovered. That was the dreadful part of it." Here the child's voice lost its self-possessed note and became falteringly human. "Poor aunt always thinks that they will come back someday, they and the little brown spaniel that was lost with them, and walk in at that window just as they used to do. That is why the window is kept open every evening till it is quite dusk. Poor dear aunt, she has often told me how they went out, her husband with his white waterproof coat over his arm, and Ronnie, her youngest brother, singing 'Bertie, why do you bound?' as he always did to tease her, because she said it got on her nerves. Do you know, sometimes on still, quiet evenings like this, I almost get a creepy feeling that they will all walk in through that window -

She broke off with a little shudder. It was a relief to Framton when the aunt bustled into the room with a whirl of apologies for being late in making her appearance.

I hope Vera has been amusing you?" she said.

She has been very interesting," said Framton.

I hope you don't mind the open window," said Mrs. Sappleton briskly; "my husband and brothers will be home directly from shooting, and they always come in this way. They've been out for snipe in the marshes today, so they'll make a fine mess over my poor carpets. So like you menfolk, isn't it?"

She rattled on cheerfully about the shooting and the scarcity of birds, and the prospects for duck in the winter. To Framton it was all purely horrible. He made a desperate but only partially successful effort to turn the talk on to a less ghastly topic, he was conscious that his hostess was giving him only a fragment of her attention, and her eyes were constantly straying past him to the open window and the lawn beyond. It was certainly an unfortunate coincidence that he should have paid his visit on this tragic anniversary.

The doctors agree in ordering me complete rest, an absence of mental excitement, and avoidance of anything in the nature of violent physical exercise," announced Framton, who laboured under the tolerably widespread delusion that total strangers and chance acquaintances are hungry for the least detail of one's ailments and infirmities, their cause and cure. "On the matter of diet they are not so much in agreement," he continued.

No?" said Mrs. Sappleton, in a voice which only replaced a yawn at the last moment. Then she suddenly brightened into alert attention - but not to what Framton was saying.

Here they are at last!" she cried. "Just in time for tea, and don't they look as if they were muddy up to the eyes!

Framton shivered slightly and turned towards the niece with a look intended to convey sympathetic comprehension. The child was staring out through the open window with a dazed horror in her eyes. In a chill shock of nameless fear Framton swung round in his seat and looked in the same direction.

In the deepening twilight three figures were walking across the lawn towards the window, they all carried guns under their arms, and one of them was additionally burdened with a white coat hung over his shoulders. A tired brown spaniel kept close at their heels. Noiselessly they neared the house, and then a hoarse young voice chanted out of the dusk: "I said, Bertie, why do you bound?

Framton grabbed wildly at his stick and hat; the hall door, the gravel drive, and the front gate were dimly noted stages in his headlong retreat. A cyclist coming along the road had to run into the hedge to avoid imminent collision.

Here we are, my dear," said the bearer of the white mackintosh, coming in through the window, "fairly muddy, but most of it's dry. Who was that who bolted out as we came up?

A most extraordinary man, a Mr. Nuttel," said Mrs. Sappleton; "could only talk about his illnesses, and dashed off without a word of goodby or apology when you arrived. One would think he had seen a ghost.

I expect it was the spaniel," said the niece calmly; "he told me he had a horror of dogs. He was once hunted into a cemetery somewhere on the banks of the Ganges by a pack of pariah dogs, and had to spend the night in a newly dug grave with the creatures snarling and grinning and foaming just above him. Enough to make anyone lose their nerve.

Romance at short notice was her speciality.

The Little Orphan Annie

by James Whitcomb Riley

Little Orphan Annie's come to my house to stay.
To wash the cups and saucers up and brush the crumbs away.
To shoo the chickens from the porch and dust the hearth and sweep,
and make the fire and bake the bread to earn her board and keep.
While all us other children, when the supper things is done,
we sit around the kitchen fire and has the mostest fun,
a listening to the witch tales that Annie tells about
and the goblins will get ya if ya don't watch out!

Once there was a little boy who wouldn't say his prayers,
and when he went to bed at night away up stairs,
his mammy heard him holler and his daddy heard him bawl,
and when they turned the covers down,
he wasn't there at all!
They searched him in the attic room
and cubby hole and press
and even up the chimney flu and every wheres, I guess,
but all they ever found of him was just his pants and round-abouts
and the goblins will get ya if ya don't watch out!!

Once there was a little girl who always laughed and grinned
and made fun of everyone, of all her blood and kin,
and once when there was company and old folks was there,
she mocked them and she shocked them and said, she didn't care.
And just as she turned on her heels and to go and run and hide,
there was two great big black things a standing by her side.
They snatched her through the ceiling fore she knew what shes about,
and the goblins will get ya if ya don't watch out!!

When the night is dark and scary,
and the moon is full and creatures are a flying and the wind goes Whoooooooooo,
you better mind your parents and your teachers fond and dear,
and cherish them that loves ya, and dry the orphans tears
and help the poor and needy ones that cluster all about,
or the goblins will get ya if ya don't watch out!!!

THE PURPLE COW

by Gelett Burgess

I NEVER saw a Purple Cow,
I never hope to see one;
But I can tell you, anyhow,
I'd rather see than be one.

Precious Stones

by Christina Rossetti

An emerald is as green as grass,
A ruby red as blood,
A sapphire shines as blue as heaven,
But a flint lies in the mud.

A diamond is a brilliant stone
To catch the world's desire,
An opal holds a rainbow light,
But a flint holds fire.

THE TALE OF CUSTARD THE DRAGON

By Ogden Nash

Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.

Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray mouse, she called her Blink,
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.

Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.

Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,
They all sat laughing in the little red wagon
At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.

Belinda giggled till she shook the house,
And Blink said Week!, which is giggling for a mouse,
Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,
When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,
And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,
For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.

Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,
And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,
His beard was black, one leg was wood;
It was clear that the pirate meant no good.

Belinda paled, and she cried, Help! Help!
But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household,
And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.

But up jumped Custard, snorting like an engine,
Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm
He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.

The pirate gaped at Belinda's dragon,
And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,
He fired two bullets but they didn't hit,
And Custard gobbled him, every bit.

Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,
No one mourned for his pirate victim
Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate
Around the dragon that ate the pyrate.

Belinda still lives in her little white house,
With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,
And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,
And her realio, trulio, little pet dragon.

Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,
Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.

Casey at the Bat

by Ernest Lawrence Thayer

The Outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day:
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, if only Casey could get but a whack at that -
We'd put up even money, now, with Casey at the bat.

But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a lulu and the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat.

But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despis-ed, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.

Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile on Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped-
That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said.

From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand;
And its likely they'd a-killed him had not Casey raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two.

Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.

The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville - mighty Casey has struck out.

Fourth Of July. My parents waited for two hours for a fireworks show. It was pretty awesome... but really? WHAT HAPPENED TO PUNCTUALITY! Oh well... Thanks 6 Flags. There was a floating cross too. Creepy! Later!

My Birthday

It was the sunniest day I'd seen yet in my fourteen years, and I was super excited. Today was my birthday! I would go to the pool with my ma and tromp around the forest with my pa. It was too good to be true! Even better, my family pitched in to buy a new coat to replace my old tattered one. I was so amazed when I pulled it from the old cardboard box and saw the happy splotches of yellow and pink that I almost squeezed all the air out of all of my siblings. David, my "twin" who was already fifteen years old, was jumping up and down with excitement when I tried it on. Joshua, my sixteen-year-old older brother, was more solemn but played and congratulated me like the little kid he still was.
After a breakfast of eggs and hash browns, my brothers, my mom, and I set off on our rusty bikes towards our town's center. We arrived at our tiny town's pool half an hour later. We were, as always, ignored by the people who were basking in the warm summer sun because we had, of course, not roused their attention as we entered the pool area. Too bad for them, their slumber was cut short by raucous laughter coming from the pool shortly after my siblings and I entered. Our playful manner deteriorated into a large "try-to-splash-Joshua-in-the-face" fight. Many of the other pool-goers were annoyed by the noise and left, much to our pleasure.
After our toes, fingers, and noses were as wrinkled as prunes, my older brother produced the word of the day for me, a now fifteen-year-old, and my brother, David. The word was paramecium which means a freshwater protozoan with an oval body. I asked my brother, "Now why would we want to know this?" "Because it just might be the word that will save your big toe, Sis," he responded sarcastically. As soon as the words were out, Joshua, who had been standing by the pool in his dry clothes, regretted them. David and I immediately pushed him into the watery depths of the community pool. Once he resurfaced, his expression was so hilarious that I couldn't help but double over with laughter along with my "twin." We toweled hastily and retreated to our bikes with Ma while we waited for Joshua to come. Several minutes later, Joshua came out sopping wet. I stifled a giggle. On the way home, Joshua vowed to us that he would avenge the defeat, but David and I, such naughty souls, just laughed at his face.
Joshua replaced his vengeful mood with a laughing one before we got home. When we entered the house, Pa was covered in baking ingredients which made us all laugh harder. I then discovered that Pa was making a cake, but it had exploded, so I wouldn't have it this year. I was sad, but, hey, that's life. Pa was so upset that he refused to go hiking. Unfortunately for him, I have the ability to cry whenever I want. This ability helped me win over Pa, and we left for the rocks. During our hike, I had trouble, as usual, climbing over large boulders. Their sticky, mushy moss made the surface slippery and difficult to climb. After two hours, we finally reached a rock where we could see the whole town. Joshua, David, and I gazed wondrously at the mini-scale town. "Hey Tytto, do you see our house way down there?" David pestered me with his usual questions. I responded, "Of course, Bebo!" using his nickname in response to his using mine.
After a few minutes of staring glassily at the city, I turned to leave, and my family followed. Once at the bottom of the hill, we congratulated each other on the thirty minute descent. "As fast as tanks," Joshua muttered bad-humouredly to me. I suppressed a fit of laughter.
Today's a laughing day, I told myself. As we biked home, we noticed a battalion of soldiers moving through town, and we stopped to shout, "Heil," as they passed. We hurried home after that and burst into the door to discover a delicious smell of potatoes and a small bit of meat. Meat! I mentally screamed with joy. I hadn't had meat since the war started. But as we started to eat, a banging noise came from the door. It sounded like shoulders hitting wood. Bang, bang. Two shots in the air.
Papa rushed to the door to open it, but before he took two steps, four SS officers broke it open. My heart beat harder. An officer ripped my yellow star from my coat as I was taken with the rest of my family. We were loaded into separate cars. Boys in one, girls in the other. Little did I know I would never see my brothers and my father again, and the last word my mother would say before she left me alone in the world would be "Ellikem." My name. My curse.