On the other side of the village, there lived an old woman.
Every day, she walked barefoot on a country dusty road,
passing by our neighborhood.

In the summer, we played all day long in the dust,
We, curious children, asked:
- Why do you walk barefoot when every villager wears sandals?

She didn’t answer, she didn’t speak.

We, waggish kids, threw at her feet thorny branches.

One day my mother heard us giggling in front of the gate,
as we planned an attempt to hide some stones in the dust,
and cover it well, make it unnoticed, wondering if she can hit her feet,
bleed and scream from pain, and scorn us all ...

“ Why do you do these children?
Don’t you have any respect for old people?

You better ask her  those words of healing, only she knows in this village!”

Big curiosity, and fearful eyes, looked at each other.

The next day, all children in the neighborhood were waiting for the barefoot “witch”  

It rained for one week!
When it stopped raining,
She walked barefoot again.
She walked towards me.

Silence dropped down from the sky,
and silence rose up from the ground,
and trees stopped moving their branches,
the leaves watched her touch my forehead.
My heart stopped beating.


She touched my forehead and after whispering to herself,

“ White little bird, fly in the sky, fly back to the ground,
touch the hard rocks,
White little bird, swim in your mother’s milk,
breathe fire in your wings,
breathe fire in your wings,
fly again into the blue sky, and again return on the ground”
~
I never learned those words she whispered to herself, but
I have repeated them every day since then.
~

There's something about you
That chills me to the core
There's a love unlike yours
That I cannot ignore

There's something about you
That doesn't make me want to leave
Even when it is getting late
As the clock resounds over vacant streets

There's something about you
That completes this loveless rhyme
Making it melodious like Liszt
Comprising of an exquisite delicacy

There's something about you
Utterly panoramic and magnificent
Like the head of an unrelenting fountain
Careening at the turn of a cliff

There's something about you
That completes me
Yet when I am with you
You never reveal the best of you

Maybe, it is the lack of "something" that intrigues me
Sadly, I am attracted to an enigma
Nothing more
Nothing less

..and when you finally wake to find that you're down among the fallout  on the editing room floor
will you wonder why you bothered if this is what your life was for?

We're all someone's stills, pictures on the wall, director's cuts or soundmen's cues,
that's all.

Sold off to the studios or is it in our mind
the next find of the century and then you'll
leave us all behind
but
we've all been there and watched the screen
revolve about the wistful dream
sat silently in the cinema
got ****** at midnight
in the bar,
fell into bed and any bed
heads filled with the promise
of tomorrow
and cut.

I need you...

Who else is there to read my poetry

No more trees to climb
said on the squirrels picket signs
nuts to you mankind

                            Kelly McManus

There were two good friends,
The flower-woman and the fisher-woman,
One was selling flowers at the market, and the other one was selling fish.

On the weekend the fisher-woman  invited the flower-woman for a sleep over.
After talking for a long time they were tired and want to bed.
The fisher-woman  fall asleep immediately, as she was sleeping in her home.
The flowers-woman could not fall asleep.
She was tossing because of the smell of fish in the house.

She woke up, and got a few flowers from her basket, and put them on the table.
The flowers smell helped her easily fall asleep.
Suddenly,
The fisher-woman got up wondering from where this awful
smell was coming.
“ I can’t tolerate flowers smell. “
She removed the flowers from the table.
The fish smell again helped her fall asleep.

You shouldn't respect people base on how you look at them or on how you think they are.
You should be fair.
Every person is designed to be respected.
No matter who that person is or was.

Please tell me whether your
appreciation of my poems are
genuine or feigned.

I know, you want to ask the same
question to me.

Why
Why do you cry?
When life can be good
Work at it hard
I know you could
Fight the good fight
Get your head out of the mud
Get out there
Don’t stay where you’re stood
Try a little harder
You know that you should
Help yourself and achieve
Then life will be good!