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I saw a 10 year old,
Walking down the street,
With a handful of bowl
And in another a younger kin.
Chanting "what was our sin?"


I saw a handsome lover,
Beside a lonesome tree
Strangled by the memories
Of his lover who loved somebody else
Trying to stop how does it feel.
Writing up the blues to heal.


I saw an old aged person
Who barely can walk
He was happy, had a family
Not so long ago
Sitting with his basket
upon the sidewalk
With nowhere to go


I hope you think about them
If not me when you say
Life is unfair.


I saw a mother of two,
Sunken beneath a pannier.
Dreary eyes and a crooked leg,
Says the burden of life's heavier.


I saw a husband, a son,
A father of one.
Miles away from home,
Aiming to be suffice,
Guarding the border,
A few laughin' at the sacrifice.


I saw a man in a white coat,
People say he's akin to god.
Broken in tears saying
'There are battles that can't be won
For these hands saved so many
Now loosing a loved one.'


I hope you think about them
If not me when you say
Life is unfair.


I saw the dreamers
Quitting before they die.
Heard them saying that
they gave a million try.


I saw people dying in lone
That were once on the Billboards
At times there's no one to hold
I saw blind men crossing roads.


I saw the animals crying for the lost homes,
People fencing their little domes.
I saw the birds crying for the lost trees,
The poor cries and no one sees.


And yet you say
Life is unfair.
Amidst so much of suffering life goes on.
Juan Bot Mar 20
It rises above the clouds,
It is the master,
and the slave.
It is the wretched creature,
awaken from a thousand years of sleep.

But at what cost?
At what show will it play,
and to whom?

Its the sand from the sun,
the second note on every song,
A tuned instrument squealing at the command of its master.

A pig in the barn,
four legs,
five.

The clock ticks each morning,
yet the sun settles every night.

When they come,
We will leave,
But in the direction of the rising moon.
Stay Safe everyone!
Paul Scott Mar 19
There is hardly a breeze. The February sun
Stretches forth long fingers, and begins the slow thaw    
Of our deep-frozen bones, so that things new begun
Will, in the coming year, ripen, grow and mature.
The church bells chime the hour, tediously questioning
Our good use of the time, mocking our intentions,
As though we could never succeed in fashioning
Anything that endures, despite our pretensions.
And night comes slowly on, the light in the West dims
As the sun disappears below the horizon.
The moon rises between two great clouds in the East.
Stars come out one by one. An ***, sad lowly beast,
Complains loud to the sky that his rations are gone,
And I feel his dull pain in all my aching limbs.
In English English an *** is a donkey, in American English an *** is something else. Maybe it's a donkey as well, I don't know. At all events, ***** are generally misbehaving, truculent and stubborn, though the pilgrim's who pass by here are generally in love with their *****.
Ich have y-don al myn youth
anonymous Middle English lyric, circa the 13th to 14th century AD
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I have done it all my youth:
Often, often, and often!
I have loved long and yearned zealously ...
And oh what grief it has brought me!

*

Original Middle English text:

Ich have y-don al myn youth,
Oftë, ofte, and ofte;
Longe y-loved and yerne y-beden –
Ful dere it is y-bought!

Keywords/Tags: Middle English, translation, medieval, rhyme, lament, complaint, youth, love, loved, longing, longed, grief, oft, often, zeal, zealous, zealously, desire, lust, passion, yearn, yearned, yearning, dear, dearly bought, purchased, cost, price, expense, expensive
Ech day me comëth tydinges thre
(anonymous Middle English lyric, circa the 13th to 14th century AD)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Each day I’m plagued by three doles,
These gargantuan weights on my soul:
First, that I must somehow exit this fen.
Second, that I cannot know when.
And yet it’s the third that torments me so,
Because there’s no way to know where the hell I will go!

Ech day me comëth tydinges thre,
For wel swithë sore ben he:
The on is that Ich shal hennë,
That other that Ich not whennë,
The thriddë is my mestë carë,
That Ich not whider Ich shal farë.

Keywords/Tags: Middle English, rhyme, medieval, epigram, lament, complaint, weight, soul, burden, burdened, heaviness, plague, plagued, exit, death, manner, fen, torment, hell, when, where, how, why
How Long the Night
anonymous Middle English lyric, circa early 13th century AD
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It is pleasant, indeed, while the summer lasts
with the mild pheasants' song ...
but now I feel the northern wind's blast—
its severe weather strong.
Alas! Alas! This night seems so long!
And I, because of my momentous wrong,
now grieve, mourn and fast.

Originally published by Measure

Original text:

Myrie it is while sumer
ylast with fugheles song.
Oc nu neheth windes blast
and weder strong. Ei, ei!
what this nicht is long.  And
ich with wel michel wrong
soregh and murne and
fast.

Keywords/Tags: Old English, Middle English, Medieval English, long night, lament, complaint, alas, summer, pleasant, winter, north wind, northern wind, severe weather, storm, bird, birds, birdsong, sin, crime, fast, fasting, repentance, dark night of the soul, sackcloth and ashes, regret, repentance, remonstrance
Empress Asa Feb 10
I wake up in the morning..
Open my eyes and feel the pain..
I really want to close my eyes again..
Sleep and feel nothing..
But I can't do that..
I need to wake up..
Go to someplace..
Prepare this and that... Uhh..
I just need more sleep and more pampered...
M Solav Jan 5
O like a breeze they stemmed,
From the north, like a storm;
Trampled these feet of ours!

A far reaching spell alone brought
Auguries of a will and ravage;
A hunger to be scorched.

Standing at the crossroad of a time,
Holding the floor tide by tide;
Aiming thus far fair and well.

Nor a soul ever was to complain,
First were they once they came;
And seats taken all the same.

Minuscule down the immense
Must all find where to commence
A motion towards shared quests?

But as these perish, unsheathed swords,
Their sediments to restore the world
And all else shall be vain!

May some through fortune stand and last
Upon all this dream of a burning land
Way up high beyond stars.
Written in September 2016 - for a photopoetry book titled "Thousand Reflections on Lake Qiandao"


— Copyright © M. Solav —
This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
__________
Arisa Mar 2019
I can own
seven wonderful tiny old rectangular turquoise Sri Lankan Jaguars.

But I cannot own
seven Sri Lankan wonderful rectangular old tiny turquoise Jaguars.

No.
That makes me sound crazy.
Learning English was incredibly difficult.
Shiv Pratap Pal Jan 2019

O' God I will not utter a word
I will not weep or cry
I will not complain
I will not shout at you

I will not convey my sufferings
I will not narrate my feelings
I will not pray even, or ask for mercy
I prefer to keep my mouth shut

I chose to keep silence
As my heart whispers to me
Silence speaks –
'Much louder than words'

Nothing to Say.  He knows Everything.
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