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It was another beautiful day went by
Forget all bad times that made you cry
Instead keep in heart all good memories
Be thankful for all troubles that you faced
Ma. Cristina Colima
Sleep, let me sleep, for I am sick of care;
Sleep, let me sleep, for my pain wearies me.
Shut out the light; thicken the heavy air
With drowsy incense; let a distant stream
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
In This Land
What can be said of this land
With my people threading on it
It has become a wailing land
Life is born and given away
The room is full of you!-As I came in
And closed the door behind me, all at once
A something in the air, intangible,
Yet stiff with meaning, struck my senses sick!-
Edna St. Vincent Millay
While it flawlessly divines itself during the shine and the rain,
All the while it stands boldly upright;
Keeping the thought of being colossal away,
While people are trying to bring it down;
Life; A Chapter
I thought it was easy,
But then it happened,
A moment is all it took and a scar, forever was engraved.
What language do you speak
To instruct the sky to stay meek,
With which you sweeten the lovely air.
My new-cut ashlar takes the light
Where crimson-blank the windows flare;
By my own work, before the night,
Great Overseer, I make my prayer.
The Sea Wind
I am a pool in a peaceful place,
I greet the great sky face to face,
I know the stars and the stately moon
And the wind that runs with rippling shoon-
A Man's Prayer
A man who stayed here for a while,
Starts to seek what his heart desires,
His confused of entities he ought to know,
Whether the world might bring him sorrow.
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
THAT HE SANG AT THE COUNCIL ROCK WHEN HE DANCED ON SHERE KHAN'S HIDE
The Song of Mowgli-I, Mowgli, am singing. Let
the jungle listen to the things I have done.
Among the dwellers in the silent fields
The natural heart is touched, and public way
And crowded street resound with ballad strains,
Inspired by one whose very name bespeaks
Michael: A Pastoral Poem
If from the public way you turn your steps
Up the tumultuous brook of Green-head Ghyll,
You will suppose that with an upright path
Your feet must struggle; in such bold ascent
I Am A Killer
My name is depression and I am a killer,
I am everywhere, I am the darkness, the grief, the sadness.
Once I enter your head, it would be hard for you to get me off of your system.
I Died To Live Again
Evening smile must be worn,
Tonight's dinner is served
With the drumming of their guns.
Battalion of thirsty soldiers are on the verge
Life, Love And Lessons
Life has changed in many ways,
But thoughts of you stayed the same.
I lost count in the number of days,
But each day my love grew like a flame.
My poem may be yours indeed
In melody and tone,
If in its rhythm you can read
A music of your own;
Little By Little
“Little by little,” an acorn said,
As it slowly sank in its mossy bed,
“I am improving every day,
Hidden deep in the earth away.”
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were-I have not seen
As others saw-I could not bring
My passions from a common spring-
Edgar Allan Poe
Almost Lost My Love.
Its a pretty day today, I love days like these because the cold soothing wind that blows is a reminder of you being by my side no matter what comes. The clouds that shelter me from the sun remind me of how the thought of you keeps all the dark memories away. The slight rain feels like your kisses filled with love and compassion making me sure of good and kindness in this world
But today isn't a pretty day although it's like the ones i look forward to the most, but just like most things i ruined it.
The clouds are darker than i remember and the thougts they bring darker still.
The slight rain mirrors my eyes and no matter how much the clouds and I cry we cant wash my guilt away.
The Little Hurts
Every night she runs to me
With a bandaged arm or a bandaged knee,
A stone-bruised heel or a swollen brow,
And in sorrowful tones she tells me how
Edgar Albert Guest
Upon A Snail
She goes but softly, but she goeth sure,
She stumbles not, as stronger creatures do.
Her journey's shorter, so she may endure
Better than they which do much farther go.
Gettin' together to smile an' rejoice,
An' eatin' an' laughin' with folks of your choice;
An' kissin' the girls an' declarin' that they
Are growin more beautiful day after day;
Edgar Albert Guest
Not Everyone Can Read Thy mind
Not Everyone Can Be Enough Kind
Not Everyone Empathizes The Unsaid
Not Everyone Can Plant Rose's Bed
When I woke up and couldn't behold d light that the sun gives,
I couldn't help but think about you
Because the sun wasn't here to remind me of your smile,Smile this morning ,I want you to smile this morning because your smile brings hope to everything around you,Am missing your smile,missing your smile early this day.
We have tested and tasted too much, lover-
Through a chink too wide there comes in no wonder.
But here in the Advent-darkened room
Where the dry black bread and the sugarless tea
Nothing But Stones
I think I never passed so sad an hour,
Dear friend, as that one at the church to-night.
The edifice from basement to the tower
Was one resplendent blaze of coloured light.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Venus And Adonis
Even as the sun with purple-coloured face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheeked Adonis hied him to the chase;
Hunting he loved, but love he laughed to scorn.
A Rainy Day
Oh, what a blessed interval
A rainy day may be!
No lightning flash nor tempest roar,
But one incessant, steady pour
I ask not that my bed of death
From bands of greedy heirs be free;
For these besiege the latest breath
Of fortune's favoured sons, not me.
Addressed to Francis Greenleaf Allison of Burlington, New Jersey.
You scarcely need my tardy thanks,
Who, self-rewarded, nurse and tend--
John Greenleaf Whittier
Power Of Words
Words are very powerful that
It cut deeper than a swords,
The cuts of words are irreparable and,
The blow with swords can be cured.
The Female Exile
Written at Brighthelmstone in Nov. 1792.
NOVEMBER'S chill blast on the rough beach is howling,
The surge breaks afar, and then foams to the shore,
Dark clouds o'er the sea gather heavy and scowling,
I Am Strong After All
Am in a realm I can't escape.
Having so many night mares am even afraid to sleep.
Have to wait for that superstitious time to pass.
It's perfect. Then i can sleep in and pretend am lazy and let everyone misjudge me.
To The Unknown Goddess
Will you conquer my heart with your beauty; my sould going out from afar?
Shall I fall to your hand as a victim of crafty and cautions shikar?
Have I met you and passed you already, unknowing, unthinking and blind?
Of The Cuckoo
Thou booby, say'st thou nothing but cuckoo?
The robin and the wren can thee outdo.
They to us play thorÃ³ugh their little throats,
Not one, but sundry pretty tuneful notes.
Yesterday is gone, tomorrow is still to come,
Present is intermediate of yesterday & tomorrow,
What we are today is accumulated effect of yesterday,
Present is a gateway to future,