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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
Quite A Habit....
Here comes the morning;
Blue sky, lush grass, dew drops
Yet thee not beholding my eyes;
Here comes the noon;
I was alone with a chair on a plain
Which lost itself in an empty horizon.
The plain was flawlessly paved.
Lady that in the prime of earliest youth,
Wisely hath shun'd the broad way and the green,
Last night I fell asleep watching the moon from my bedroom window
I imagined that you were watching it too
And for that moment
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
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
WHEN night drifts along the streets of the city,
And sifts down between the uneven roofs,
My mind begins to peek and peer.
It plays at ball in old, blue Chinese gardens,
A Busy Man
This crowded life of God's good giving
No man has relished more than I;
I've been so goldarned busy living
I've never had the time to die.
Each day with so much ceremony
begins, with birds, with bells,
with whistles from a factory;
such white-gold skies our eyes
Do memories last forever?
This thought runs through the mind of thinkers.
Memories are destined to fade,
But your most important memories,
I see thine image through my tears to-night,
And yet to-day I saw thee smiling. How
Refer the cause ?--Beloved, is it thou
Or I, who makes me sad ? The acolyte
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
What Is Time?
A running track, that clock's sweetness and tribulation
Minute of temptations and trials
Seconds of death and judgment.
Afe Tosin Shola
Life like lies
impeaches man of little lies
why isn't she perfect that man should lie.
go tell life I have a light to lite
I'm glad these feelings inside stayed
For me to look back at those days.
When we didn't think of times being late,
When the heart shaped stars were our place.
Sitting alone that night
Trying hide her fright
Pulling her sleeves
thinking if the demons ever leave
Life; A Chapter
I thought it was easy,
But then it happened,
A moment is all it took and a scar, forever was engraved.
Wouldst thou be taught, when sleep has taken flight,
By a sure voice that can most sweetly tell,
How far off yet a glimpse of morning light,
And if to lure the truant back be well,
Behind him lay the gray Azores,
Behind the Gates of Hercules;
Before him not the ghost of shores,
Before him only shoreless seas.
When everything's dead
and you're the only survivor.
When everything's gone
with no hope to go on.
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.
A Last love,
proper in conclusion,
should snip the wings
forbidding further flight.
You are the flame in my candle,
that lights the darkness of my room.
You are the scented flowers,
that makes my heart full bloom.
I see a dysfunctional future
Wailing in hunger. Many tongues scrabbling for a single bone
Living corpses pile the street.
I hear soothsayers boast in their ignorance and claim a stolen future
The other day as I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room
bouncing from typewriter to piano
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
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
Night frawns on our hope and belongings,
And left us hopeless and stranded.
New dawn renews our hope,
And makes all new and beautiful.
A Song In The Desert
Friend, thou beholdest the lightning? Who has the charge of it,
To decree which rock-ridge shall receive, shall be chosen for targe of it?
Which crown among palms shall go down, by the thunderbolt broken;
While the floods drown the sere wadis where no bud is token?
The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count