Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
We will make it just wait and see
Predujice will fail to stop us
From reaching our destiny
Determination will see us through.

You say we will not succeed
We know we will turn out strong
You judge a book by its cover
But you get the story wrong.

You see us through your human eyes
You never stop to talk only  pass us by
So don't look down you will be surprised
For we will rise and stand up high .

So throw away your selfish pride
Help us stand when you see us fall
Because we live together on this earth
Yes all together one and all.
Hopefully atitudes are changing toward
People with special needs, the stigma is somewhat fading away.
Many peaple who have special needs have hidden strengths
Or skills inwich they excel in.So the lesson is we should never be judgemental of others.we all have strengths and weaknesses.
 Dec 2018 Marco Buschini
Archita
Gone are the days
When I was a princess,
Gone are the days
When I ignored what everybody says,
Gone are the days
When I could win over anyone,
Gone are the days
When all I had to do was run,
Gone are the days
When I had no worries,
Gone are the days
When all I knew about was fairies,
Gone are the days
When all I did was pure innocence,
Gone are the days
When I was always full of exuberance,
Gone are the days
Gone are the days.
Lovely childhood!
Non ti preparerò col mio mostrarmiti
ad una confidenza limitata,
ma perché nel toccarmi la tua mano
non abbia una memoria di presagi,
giacerò all'informe
fusa io stessa, sciolta dentro il buio,
per quanto possa, elaborata e viva,
ridivenire caos...
Orfeo novello, amico dell'assenza,
modulerai di nuovo dalla cetra
la figura nascente di me stessa.
Sarai alle soglie piano e divinante
di un mistero assoluto di silenzio,
ignorando i miei limiti di un tempo,
godrai il possesso della sola essenza.
Allora, concretandomi in un primo
accenno di presenza,
sarò un ramo fiorito di consenso,
e poi, trovato un punto di contatto,
ammetterò una timida coscienza
di vita d'animale
e mi dirò che non andrò più oltre,
mentre già mi sviluppi,
sapienza ineluttabile e sicura,
in un gioco insperato di armonie,
in una conclusione di fanciulla...
Fanciulla: è questo il termine raggiunto?
E per l'addietro non l'** maturato
e non l'** poi distrutto
delusa, offesa in ogni volontà?
Che vuol dire fanciulla
se non superamento di coscienza?
Era questo di me che non volevo:
condurmi, trascurando ogni mia forma,
al vertice mortale della vita...
Ma la presenza d'ogni mia sembianza
quale urgenza incalzante di sviluppo,
quale presto proporsi
e più presto risolversi d'enigmi!
E quando poi, dal mio aderire stesso,
la forma scivolò in un altro tempo
di più rare e più estranee conclusioni,
quando del mio "sentirmi" voluttuoso
rimase un'aderenza di dolore,
allora, allora preferii la morte
che ribadisse in me questo possesso.
Ma ci si può avanzare nella vita
mano che regge e fiaccola portata
e ci si può liberamente dare
alle dimenticanze più serene
quando gli anelli multipli di noi
si sciolgano e riprendano in accordo,
quando la garanzia dell'immanenza
ci fasci di un benessere assoluto.
Così, nelle tue braccia ordinatrici
io mi riverso, minima ed immensa;
dato sereno, dato irrefrenabile,
attività perenne di sviluppo.
All'amore non si resiste
perché le mani vogliono possedere la bellezza
e non lasciare tramortite anni di silenzio.
Perché l'amore è vivere duemila sogni
fino al bacio sublime.
 Aug 2018 Marco Buschini
irises
someday it will
come again.
someday someone
will come in.

a star
with the deepest depths in the eyes
with the gentlest of breaths
and endless soul in the smile

one day
i'll forgive this pain
not forget -
forgive.
we are all destined to love again, i am sure
Through the country paths, I lazily loitered,
watching Nature in its changing hue
straying farther into the interiors,
sundry and sublime vistas came into view.

in response to zephyr’s warm embrace,
the silvery leaves joyously fluttered.
the bees busied themselves collecting pollen
and birds on tree tops merrily chattered

it was the *** end of verdant spring.
summer’s sun stood behind my head.
bleat of sheep was heard from far.
‘Good day to you’….. Someone said.

There stood on the hill, a boy around fifteen
obviously he was of tribal breed.
with a beaming smile, he greeted me
but on walking to him, he ran like a steed

I saw him disappear behind the trees
and enter into a hut tiny as a nest
he lived in the lap of Mother Nature,
far from the city and its sooty dust

being coaxed, he hesitantly came out.
my tone of assurance and pleasing smile,
seemed to have won his confidence
as to a friend, he shared his eventful tale.

pointing to the sheep grazing in the *****,
he said, he earned a living caring the flock.
he stayed in the woods all day long,
feeding and tending his master’s sheep.

from dawn to dusk, through woods and meads,
he leads his sheep, calling them by their name.
un vexed, with simple pleasures he is content
and with a nomad’s life, he seems to be tame

he said, at home he has his invalid mother.
bringing her back to health is his mission in life
on referring to his mother, I watched his eyes glitter
nothing other than her illness posed to him a strife

from every utterance, I could sense his filial love.
even in abundance, while shadows line many faces,
on his visage, hope lingered as a dancing flame
to me he seemed above many, rich in other graces!

While parting, I handed him a little money
pausing unbelievably, with moist eyes
he accepted it, when a breeze passed caressing us
as if over a kind gesture, Nature seemed to rejoice!
This was written sometime ago based on a real incident with a sprinkle of imagination ! The boy with his cheerful disposition in the face of adversities continues to be an inspiring memory!
Next page