And now she is only a scar,
you can barely see from afar.
It’s something I’ve learned to live with.

I can hide it well behind tears,
and it changes down through the years.
Just something I’ve learned to live with

When it happened, the cut was deep.
The fall was hard, the climb was steep.
Now, something I’ve learned to live with.

Though it will never fade away,
a wound from an unconscious day.
Just something I’ve learned to live with.



Go Vat
*The French Influence can be seen in this one, where there is a longer syllable count and a repeat line or word, and is believed to have become a popular form in the late 1800s.
It consists of a couplet of usually eight syllables, which sets the rhyme for the subsequent stanzas, and a third line which can be repeated totally or phrase or just the final word.

Love is both dangerous and safe;
It is the bullet and the bandage
It is the rain and the umbrella
It is the fall and the helmet
It is the life stopper - the heart starter
Love is the hurt and the heal
Love is our truth
Love
is
real.

My Mamma cried
When she'd heard what I'd done
My Daddy went back inside
And he grabbed his gun

I'd met a ******* the other side of town
Of course I am white and of course she is brown
I don't rightly care cause we're both in love
And I ain't gonna let her suffer none

We's from Birmingham
Down South Birmingham Alabama you see
If'in you must know the year
I'd say a shameful 1963

There was unrest amongst the people
Which was bad enough
But it was doubly troublesome
On our taboo love

Deep segregation kept our worlds apart
Something the youth of the day couldn't see
Outside color don't matter, it's what's in the heart
That's the hold she has over me

Not really sure things have changed all that much
Though it's our nature to want to pretend
I'm not much into caring what others might think
Sometimes you gotta stand up like a man

I'm telling this tale from my front porch swing
As I listen to my Grandchildren's playful screams
While holding hands rocking back and forth
My lovely brown skinned beauty and me

====(==O==== )

Troubadour’s lips do tell his tales,
to Kings and Queens and Princes.
With lute in hand his tune entails,
wine, women, war and wenches.

But alas his heart is heavy with pain,
from ballads of loves gone wrong.
Too real the lyrics, too sad the refrain,
for he has become the song.

###====(==O==== )