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So many times I thought about yesterday
A day that I was innocent in every way
When I was just a little girl who was playing all day
And just cried when someone ruined my day.
Ma. Cristina Colima
A Valentine Gift
Your appearance alone
Is a bona-fide Valentine gift
Were I the one lucky man
To betroth this precious date
Seasons Of Life
Gazing at the breezy night
Empty or lack of immense sunlight
And the onset of Winters shined
Though reflecting warmth of mankind
What Wor It?
What wor it made me love thee, lass?
Aw connot tell;
Aw know it worn't for thi brass; -
Tho' poor misel
I Won My Love
Looking at the bright side of her life
There was unending blossomic love
She's not alone anymore not lovelorned
She found every creature is teaching her
Ebony is what I call her name
She and beauty are equal and same
Whenever she's out of sight causes an ache
Because she taste sweet like cake
We stood among the boats and nets . . .
We marked the risen moon
Walk swaying o'er the trembling seas
As one sways in a swoon;
Down The Lanes Of August
DOWN the lanes of Augustâ??and the bees upon the wing,
All the world's in color now, and all the song birds sing;
Never reds will redder be, more golden be the gold,
Down the lanes of August, and the summer getting old.
Edgar Albert Guest
Listen keenly and you will hear the words of my song.
Look closely and you will see the beauty within me.
What Is Love
A good night kiss to your child
A tight hug between siblings,
Tears of joy ,
A look of longing for someone
You Are Aware
You are aware of your world,
Detached from where other’s life curled.
You aren’t aware who will lie,
Before I loved you, love, nothing was my own:
I wavered through the streets, among
Nothing mattered or had a name:
A Song Of Daphne To The Lute
My Daphne's Haire is twisted Gold,
Bright starres a-piece her Eyes doe hold,
My Daphne's Brow inthrones the Graces,
My Daphne's Beauty staines all Faces,
Late October Woods
Clumped in the shadow of the beech,
In whose brown top the crows are loud,
Where, every side, great briers reach
And cling like hands, the beechdrops crowd
Madison Julius Cawein
Out of the noise of tired people working,
Harried with thoughts of war and lists of dead,
His beauty met me like a fresh wind blowing,
Clean boyish beauty and high-held head.
Summer comes with beautiful scenery,
Mother Earth shed her dress to turn green,
Flowers bloom to bear fruits to
Lose Her beauty in time.
Truth Of Life
What is self love what is that feeling?
She said as she kept looking in the mirror
She kept wondering if she will know?
What was she searching for in the mirror
There Was A Boy
There was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs
And islands of Winander! many a time,
At evening, when the earliest stars began
To move along the edges of the hills,
I'd be the sun in your moon,
A fire burning in your skies.
Layers of white and orange tune
In petals of flowers yet to bloom.
Time and time again,
I'm taken down memory lane,
Where things remain the same,
Where there's beauty even in pain.
My poem may be yours indeed
In melody and tone,
If in its rhythm you can read
A music of your own;
Ode To Walt Whitman
By the East River and the Bronx
boys were singing, exposing their waists
with the wheel, with oil, leather, and the hammer.
Ninety thousand miners taking silver from the rocks
Federico Garcàa Lorca
Woman Of The World
Motionless woman,steadfast woman
Sitting on a throne of gold
In your eyes are dreams of the world
In your ways have you brought up mankind
It felt as if you shook me,
When you called out by my name.
Your voice brought me to my knee,
My walls burnt down to a beautiful flame.
I know you are too dear to stay;
You are so exquisitely sweet:
My lonely house will thrill some day
To echoes of your eager feet.
The Printing Machine
It begins at the brink of the dawn,
with the sound of chrring printing machine.
Chrring bloody scenes into bold black ink and we drink to that ink that make our stomach sink yet the machine harps happily.
and there goes the busy printing machine louder and louder, More louder than the screams of a woman screaming for help in a warehouse while she was raped, brutally but the fair and lovely ad gets more space snootily and strangly we go on reading the newspaper with our daily cup of tea perpetually.
Cinderella in the street
In a ragged gown,
Sloven slippers on her feet,
Shames our tidy town;