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It was beautiful when things
Were normal between you and me.
When there were meaning to greetings,
When you spoke without a worry.
Last night I fell asleep watching the moon from my bedroom window
I imagined that you were watching it too
And for that moment
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
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
Life is a mystery,
There is no clue of its exact history.
Theory once postulated by Darwin,
May go change by some Hardin.
Dr. Nitesh Ahir
We were once victims altogether
Once slaves in our homeland
The struggle, we fought together
Fought against the unjust systems
Do memories last forever?
This thought runs through the mind of thinkers.
Memories are destined to fade,
But your most important memories,
A Servant To Servants
I didn't make you know how glad I was
To have you come and camp here on our land.
I promised myself to get down some day
And see the way you lived, but I don't know!
To The Brightest Star
It was only a while ago,
You opened the door to my world.
As time passed our hearts did grow,
Beautiful tales were told.
I still remember the day I saw you
What you wore how you looked
And I did some stupid things I can't lie
Maybe because I was still but a child
I decided to write a diary,
In a regular way.
As I got encouraged,
By my teacher a day.
Iam A Poet
Iam a poet
i have been writing for a while
for both the black and white,
of late none of my literature
Weep No More My Child
Look in my eyes,
What's in your eyes?
What can you see when you look in my eyes?
Your eyes is so meek and full of kindness,
The kindest hearts pray for change
God didn't answer when it was Grey
The child inside me cried for so long
The world was actually not against me
Mon Reve Familier [english]
Oft do I dream this strange and penetrating dream:
An unknown woman, whom I love, who loves me well,
Who does not every time quite change, nor yet quite dwell
The same,-and loves me well, and knows me as I am.
Time and time again,
I'm taken down memory lane,
Where things remain the same,
Where there's beauty even in pain.
My dear daddy,
You gave me intensive care for being weak ,
And made me what I am today,
Believing that I can be by your side,
One Man- Thousand Feelings
Of course I miss you. I miss your laughter, your lame jokes, your touch, your voice, your brown eyes. I never stop waiting for you. Not a day goes by that I dont look at your pictures and smile. When I'm lost, I look for you. Nothing will ever change except for my love for you will grow more with each day.
I promise that I will love you for who you are. I feel the need to be with you forever. I love it when you give me your full attention. My love is not really a feeling, but its a kind of commitment to love you every day emotionally and physically when we'll be together. You're a blessing in my life.
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.
People of my kind black Africans,
Black and attractive Africans
See how bright you shine
Your bright blackness shines even in the dark.
Mimi J Milson
The Old Huntsman
I've never ceased to curse the day I signed
A seven years' bargain for the Golden Fleece.
'Twas a bad deal all round; and dear enough
It cost me, what with my daft management,
Through an accidental crack in the curtain
I can see the eight o'clock light change from
charcoal to a faint gassy blue, inventing things
Come with me and you'll be
In a world of pure imagination
Take a look and you'll see
Into your imagination
Summer pleasures they are gone like to visions every one
And the cloudy days of autumn and of winter cometh on
I tried to call them back but unbidden they are gone
Far away from heart and eye and for ever far away
Note To Dad
There is a new one called Bob, or is it Rob.
His face is round just like a door knob.
He has a mop of hair that looks like a mob.
Although he is not, he acts like a snob.
Love - The Symbolic Soul
Love is a journey, only few dispatch it,
Not all can, the dream in life who loves,
Although millions of promises created.
It's fragile like a narrow glass, easily smart,
A raven, while with glossy breast
Her new-laid eggs she fondly press'd,
And, on her wicker-work high mounted,
Her chickens prematurely counted
Listen sweet Dove unto my song,
And spread thy golden wings in me;
Hatching my tender heart so long,
Till it get wing, and fly away with thee.
The hulk of a man with a beer in his hand looked like a drunk old fool,
And I knew that if I hit him right, I could knock him off that stool.
But everybody said, 'Watch out, that's Tiger Man McCool.
He's had a whole lot of fights, and he always come out the winner.
In youth, it was a way I had
To do my best to please,
And change, with every passing lad,
To suit his theories.
To A Bird At Dawn
O bird that somewhere yonder sings,
In the dim hour 'twixt dreams and dawn,
Lone in the hush of sleeping things,
In some sky sanctuary withdrawn;
Richard Le Gallienne
On the white throat of the' useless passion
That scorched my soul with its burning breath
I clutched my fingers in murderous fashion,
And gathered them close in a grip of death;
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
You will come one day in a waver of love,
Tender as dew, impetuous as rain,
The tan of the sun will be on your skin,
The purr of the breeze in your murmuring speech,
The Holy Fair
A note of seeming truth and trust
Hid crafty observation;
And secret hung, with poison'd crust,
The dirk of defamation:
Thou two-faced year, Mother of Change and Fate,
Didst weep when Spain cast forth with flaming sword,
The children of the prophets of the Lord,
Prince, priest, and people, spurned by zealot hate.
In All Ways A Woman
In my young years I took pride in the fact that luck was called a lady. In fact, there were so few public acknowledgments of the female presence that I felt personally honored whenever nature and large ships were referred to as feminine. But as I matured, I began to resent being considered a sister to a changeling as fickle as luck, as aloof as an ocean, and as frivolous as nature. The phrase 'A woman always has the right to change her mind' played so aptly into the negative image of the female that I made myself a victim to an unwavering decision. Even if I made an inane and stupid choice, I stuck by it rather than 'be like a woman and change my mind.'
Being a woman is hard work. Not without joy and even ecstasy, but still relentless, unending work. Becoming an old female may require only being born with certain genitalia, inheriting long-living genes and the fortune not to be run over by an out-of-control truck, but to become and remain a woman command the existence and employment of genius.
From what portion of my mind do my thoughts come from?
If only I knew,
there would be many I'm sure.
A Poet Of One Mood
A poet of one mood in all my lays,
Ranging all life to sing one only love,
Like a west wind across the world I move,
Sweeping my harp of floods mine own wild ways.