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I Saw Him
I saw him leaning on a tree
Wine shirt blue jean
Perfectly shaped hair perky lips
He smelled like Prince charming in my fairy tale
Last night I fell asleep watching the moon from my bedroom window
I imagined that you were watching it too
And for that moment
A friend I lost, a friend so close,
A friend I cared about the most.
A friend I loved, cherished like a rose,
A friend I admired, beyond words.
Do memories last forever?
This thought runs through the mind of thinkers.
Memories are destined to fade,
But your most important memories,
I also took grief and suffering in love.
Ask me, what types of streets that I have passed.
What type of fire on my chest
I decided to write a diary,
In a regular way.
As I got encouraged,
By my teacher a day.
Innocent Killings In Kashmir
My dear friend, I see everyday bloodshed in Kashmir.
My dear friend, I see every day in Kashmir innocent Rose's lost their lives.
My dear friend, I see everyday mother's lost their innocent Rose's in Kashmir.
My dear friend, I see everyday blood flowing in the rivers.
I am: yet what I am none cares or knows
My friends forsake me like a memory lost,
I am the self-consumer of my woes-
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Because of my cross, I find this life a misery
Like every cast in this dramatic adventure
I Am Not Yours
I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.
Yet I remember you!
And Your piercing words,
Words that shake my soul,
Words that Disintegrate my being,
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.
I Want To Cry
I want to cry ...
I'm tired of life
Beginning it sound so lovely
I never thought I would in such a catastrophe
Love Is The Most Important
It's sadness in the world, despair, pain,
Nothing is easy, nothing is certain,
Only the sea, the sun and the sky makes me happy and i think,
That's worthy to fight and for life to win.
White founts falling in the courts of the sun,
And the Soldan of Byzantium is smiling as they run;
There is laughter like the fountains in that face of all men feared,
It stirs the forest darkness, the darkness of his beard,
G. K. Chesterton
The Two Ages
On a great cathedral window I have seen
A Summer sunset swoon and sink away,
Lost in the splendours of immortal art.
Angels and saints and all the heavenly hosts,
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
We Lost The Treasures
The atmosphere is dry & COOL,
places are walking as noble pool,
Every thing is feeling the short.
No one hides it self from this hot.
Out Of The East
When man first walked upright and soberly
Reflecting as he paced to and fro,
And no more swinging from wide tree to tree,
Or sheltered by vast boles from sheltered foe,
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.
Cloony The Clown
I'll tell you the story of Cloony the Clown
Who worked in a circus that came through town.
His shoes were too big and his hat was too small,
But he just wasn't, just wasn't funny at all.
A Little While
A little while when I am gone
My life will live in music after me,
As spun foam lifted and borne on
After the wave is lost in the full sea.
Lucy Locket lost her pocket,
Kitty Fisher found it;
But ne'er a penny was there in't,
Except the binding round it.
Ave Atque Vale: 15
And one weeps with him in the ways Lethean,
And stains with tears her changing bosom chill:
That obscure Venus of the hollow hill,
That thing transformed which was the Cytherean,
Algernon Charles Swinburne
The Lost Legion
There's a Legion that never was 'listed,
That carries no colours or crest,
But, split in a thousand detachments,
Is breaking the road for the rest.
The Song Of The Dead
Hear now the Song of the Dead -- in the North by the torn berg-edges --
They that look still to the Pole, asleep by their hide-stripped sledges.
Song of the Dead in the South -- in the sun by their skeleton horses,
Where the warrigal whimpers and bays through the dust
The Red Valley
Green green so beautiful my globe,
Spark of fire , burns my flower into ash.
Till from then only flame is here,
The walk that led out through the apple trees-
the narrow, crumbling path of brick embossed
among the clumps of grass, the scattered leaves-
Dickens In Camp
Above the pines the moon was slowly drifting,
The river sang below;
The dim Sierras, far beyond, uplifting
Their minarets of snow.
'Twas August, and the fierce sun overhead
Smote on the squalid streets of Bethnal Green,
And the pale weaver, through his windows seen
In Spitalfields, looked thrice dispirited.
The Scholar Gypsy
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill;
Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes!
No longer leave thy wistful flock unfed,
Nor let thy bawling fellows rack their throats,
Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm;
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
W. H. Auden
The Italian In England
That second time they hunted me
From hill to plain, from shore to sea,
And Austria, hounding far and wide
Her blood-hounds through the countryside,
The Lost Leader
Just for a handful of silver he left us,
Just for a riband to stick in his coat-
Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us,
Lost all the others she lets us devote;
The Lost Mistress
All's over, then: does truth sound bitter
As one at first believes?
Hark, 'tis the sparrows' good-night twitter
About your cottage eaves!
Now this here rag is the one they used to call
the lost rag.
Sort of thing everybody knew and nobody ever bothered
Truth To Tell
Vous n'etes que les masques sur des faces masquees
Start, then, with a sense of beginning, of sleep