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#adieu
La morte è il passaggio dallo stato naturale a un altro È il momento in cui il corpo sprofonda in un sonno Dal quale il risveglio è impossibile. Non è come il sole Che va e viene, né come i Vangeli degli Apostoli. Il poeta senegalese Birago Diop direbbe che i morti sono nelle nostre pianure All'ombra di palme, mapou e baobab. Il loro sangue scorre nelle nostre vene I morti sono nello spazio che ci circonda, nell'aria che tutti respiriam Nelle dolci correnti dei ruscelli e nelle scie di fumo lasciate dagli aerei. Noi, che siamo ancora tra i vivi—svegliamoci e asciughiamo le nostre lacrime I nostri morti sono quaggiù—proprio lì, presenti; possiamo percepirne la presenza I nostri morti stanno sognando. Lasciamoli dormire nel loro ultimo luogo di riposo I nostri antenati sono lì, presenti per la vita stessa e per la nostra difesa. I nostri morti sono nella stanza, nelle strade. Sono felici. Sono onnipresenti Mentre noi piangiamo, essi ci osservano a occhi chiusi—eppure con tristezza La morte è il passaggio da uno stato all'altro. È con languore, con stanchezza Che dobbiamo percorrere—anzi, attraversare—quel sentiero labirintico e insidioso. P.S. Questa poesia è dedicata al Sig. Alphonse Romenus Aubourg e alla sua famiglia, Al mio compianto padre, al Sig. Gustave Logerie, e alla sua famiglia, ai nostri Antenati, al grande Poeta senegalese Birago Diop, e a Tutti Noi. (Traduzione di "Death As A One-Way Passage Or Lane Of No Return".) Requiescat In Pace! Riposi in Pace! Copyright © Maggio 2026 Hébert Logerie. Tutti i diritti riservati.
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May 14
May 14, 2026 at 11:48 PM UTC
La Morte Come Passaggio O Sentiero Senza Ritorno
La morte è il passaggio dallo stato naturale a un altro È il momento in cui il corpo sprofonda in un sonno Dal quale il risveglio è impossibile. Non è come il sole Che va e viene, né come i Vangeli degli Apostoli. Il poeta senegalese Birago Diop direbbe che i morti sono nelle nostre pianure All'ombra di palme, mapou e baobab. Il loro sangue scorre nelle nostre vene I morti sono nello spazio che ci circonda, nell'aria che tutti respiriam Nelle dolci correnti dei ruscelli e nelle scie di fumo lasciate dagli aerei. Noi, che siamo ancora tra i vivi—svegliamoci e asciughiamo le nostre lacrime I nostri morti sono quaggiù—proprio lì, presenti; possiamo percepirne la presenza I nostri morti stanno sognando. Lasciamoli dormire nel loro ultimo luogo di riposo I nostri antenati sono lì, presenti per la vita stessa e per la nostra difesa. I nostri morti sono nella stanza, nelle strade. Sono felici. Sono onnipresenti Mentre noi piangiamo, essi ci osservano a occhi chiusi—eppure con tristezza La morte è il passaggio da uno stato all'altro. È con languore, con stanchezza Che dobbiamo percorrere—anzi, attraversare—quel sentiero labirintico e insidioso. P.S. Questa poesia è dedicata al Sig. Alphonse Romenus Aubourg e alla sua famiglia, Al mio compianto padre, al Sig. Gustave Logerie, e alla sua famiglia, ai nostri Antenati, al grande Poeta senegalese Birago Diop, e a Tutti Noi. (Traduzione di "Death As A One-Way Passage Or Lane Of No Return".) Requiescat In Pace! Riposi in Pace! Copyright © Maggio 2026 Hébert Logerie. Tutti i diritti riservati.
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La mort est le passage de l’état naturel à un autre C'est le moment où le corps est plongé dans un sommeil Dont le réveil est impossible. Ce n’est pas comme le soleil Qui fait des ‘va et vient’ ou comme les Évangiles des Apôtres. Le grand Poète Sénégalais, Birago Diop dirait que les morts sont dans nos plaines Sous l’ombre des palmiers, des mapous et des baobabs. Leur sang coule dans nos veines Les morts sont dans l’espace qui nous entoure, dans l’air que nous tous respirons Dans les doux courants des ruisseaux et dans les traînées de fumée des avions. Nous, qui sommes encore vivants - réveillons-nous, et séchons nos pleurs Nos morts sont ici-bas, là, présents, on peut sentir leur présence Nos morts rêvent. Laissez-les dormir dans leur dernière demeure Nos ancêtres sont là presents pour la vie et pour notre défense. Nos morts sont dans la salle, dans les rues. Ils sont heureux. Ils sont ubiquiteux Pendant que nous pleurons, ils nous observent les yeux clos, mais avec tristesse La mort est le passage d’un état à un autre. C’est avec langueur, avec paresse Que nous devons traverser, voire franchir ce layon labyrinthique et scabreux. P.S. Ce poème est dédié à Mr. Alphonse Romenus Aubourg et famille, A mon regretté Père Mr. Gustave Logerie et famille, à nos Ancêtres, au grand Poète Sénégalais Birago Diop et à Nous Tous. ‘Traduction de « Death As A One-Way Passage”. Requiescat In Pace! Rest In Peace! Paix À Son Âme ! Copyright © Mai 2026 Hébert Logerie. Tous droits réservés. Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poésie.
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May 13
May 13, 2026 at 12:03 AM UTC
La Mort Comme Passage Ou Sentier De Non-Retour
La mort est le passage de l’état naturel à un autre C'est le moment où le corps est plongé dans un sommeil Dont le réveil est impossible. Ce n’est pas comme le soleil Qui fait des ‘va et vient’ ou comme les Évangiles des Apôtres. Le grand Poète Sénégalais, Birago Diop dirait que les morts sont dans nos plaines Sous l’ombre des palmiers, des mapous et des baobabs. Leur sang coule dans nos veines Les morts sont dans l’espace qui nous entoure, dans l’air que nous tous respirons Dans les doux courants des ruisseaux et dans les traînées de fumée des avions. Nous, qui sommes encore vivants - réveillons-nous, et séchons nos pleurs Nos morts sont ici-bas, là, présents, on peut sentir leur présence Nos morts rêvent. Laissez-les dormir dans leur dernière demeure Nos ancêtres sont là presents pour la vie et pour notre défense. Nos morts sont dans la salle, dans les rues. Ils sont heureux. Ils sont ubiquiteux Pendant que nous pleurons, ils nous observent les yeux clos, mais avec tristesse La mort est le passage d’un état à un autre. C’est avec langueur, avec paresse Que nous devons traverser, voire franchir ce layon labyrinthique et scabreux. P.S. Ce poème est dédié à Mr. Alphonse Romenus Aubourg et famille, A mon regretté Père Mr. Gustave Logerie et famille, à nos Ancêtres, au grand Poète Sénégalais Birago Diop et à Nous Tous. ‘Traduction de « Death As A One-Way Passage”. Requiescat In Pace! Rest In Peace! Paix À Son Âme ! Copyright © Mai 2026 Hébert Logerie. Tous droits réservés. Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poésie.
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Death is the passage from a natural state to another; It is the moment when the body is plunged into a slumber From which awakening is impossible. It is not like the sun, Which comes and goes, nor like the Gospels of the Apostles. The Senegalese poet, Birago Diop, would say that the dead dwell in our plains, Beneath the shade of palm trees. Their blood flows in our veins; The dead are in the space that surrounds us, in the air that we all breathe, In the gentle currents of streams and in the trails of smoke left by airplanes. We, who are still among the living must wake up, we must dry our tears; Our dead are here below—right there—present; we can feel their presence. Our dead are dreaming. Let them sleep in their final resting place; Our ancestors are present here—for life itself, and for our defense. Our dead are in the room, in the streets. They are happy. They are ubiquitous. While we weep, they watch us with eyes closed—yet with sadness. Death is the passage from one state to another. It is with slowness, with weariness, That we must traverse, cross this labyrinthine and treacherous path. P.S. This poem is dedicated to Mr. Alphonse Romenus Aubourg and his family, To my late father, Gustave Logerie, and his family, to our Ancestors, to the great Senegalese Poet Birago Diop, and to Us All. ’Translation Of “La Mort Comme Passage”. Requiescat In Pace! Rest In Peace! Copyright © May 2026 Hébert Logerie. All rights reserved. Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry books.
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May 12
May 12, 2026 at 11:52 PM UTC
Death As A One-Way Passage Or Lane Of No Return
Death is the passage from a natural state to another; It is the moment when the body is plunged into a slumber From which awakening is impossible. It is not like the sun, Which comes and goes, nor like the Gospels of the Apostles. The Senegalese poet, Birago Diop, would say that the dead dwell in our plains, Beneath the shade of palm trees. Their blood flows in our veins; The dead are in the space that surrounds us, in the air that we all breathe, In the gentle currents of streams and in the trails of smoke left by airplanes. We, who are still among the living must wake up, we must dry our tears; Our dead are here below—right there—present; we can feel their presence. Our dead are dreaming. Let them sleep in their final resting place; Our ancestors are present here—for life itself, and for our defense. Our dead are in the room, in the streets. They are happy. They are ubiquitous. While we weep, they watch us with eyes closed—yet with sadness. Death is the passage from one state to another. It is with slowness, with weariness, That we must traverse, cross this labyrinthine and treacherous path. P.S. This poem is dedicated to Mr. Alphonse Romenus Aubourg and his family, To my late father, Gustave Logerie, and his family, to our Ancestors, to the great Senegalese Poet Birago Diop, and to Us All. ’Translation Of “La Mort Comme Passage”. Requiescat In Pace! Rest In Peace! Copyright © May 2026 Hébert Logerie. All rights reserved. Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry books.
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I wish you well, I bid you great things, I hope that you receive all the good that life brings!!! I will see you around, Hoping very, very soon, We shall part for right now, So, Au revoir, and Adieu!!! It's time that we part, see the world and explore, just start our own joureny, and See what's in store!! Farewell and so long, Cos, we will meet again, but parting is sweet sorrow, Until the next time my Friend!!! Be Blessed and be Wonderful, hoping you're Feeling swell, I will see you down the road, HOPING YOU'RE DOING WELL!!! B.R. Date: 3/5/2025
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Mar 5, 2025
Mar 5, 2025 at 2:51 PM UTC
I wish you well
I got the message today, the finality is alarming How all veils have been removed, as its regarding Or would be love story, If I could be the One Who takes you to see the moon and not get boiled by the sun I shiver, I cry, I hope you didn't take to heart The anger I spewed and the hope it doesnt break us apart I came like a volcano, and you a Tsunami Only now does it dawn for me how you're so far from me I said thing to instill a reaction But instead of satisfaction I get the realization that this extended vacation will be our dedication to what was and will never be A girl and a boy manage to become best friend But boy falls in love and girl follows suite Unknowing they'd be each others rock, person Now one stands firm and the other uncertain Does it end tonight, do angered words repel honeyed apologies? Can love conquer all and fulfill their destiny? Do they become ones Soul mates to now polar opposites Or day even more distant, now used to be's and Pessimists?
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Jun 1, 2024
Jun 1, 2024 at 11:50 AM UTC
Adieu to a Soul mate
Sep 15 10:45am Silver Beach, Peconic  Bay, Shelter Island it is the day of the twixt and tween, 64°, stolid breeze on a bright sunshiny day, but no question, we are well ensconced in **** season, overlooking the shadowy, dry, speckled blotchy, thirsty grass, and an empty bay, sails put aside it’s a normal/semi-normal moment, simultaneously secular and heaven blessed, the stimuli of the quietude is the outlier, it’s quantitude is overwhelming, it’s amplitude, a wave of farewell humbled hushed rumblings of wind and the drip of dropping leaves that fails to puncture the total absence of noises, human et. al. shirt off, chest wet & warmed, a light jacket, my wrapper from the firm chill, an undeniable temperate moment, for this is an interlude day, a goodbye and hello shucked/unshucked poem, the only semi-frisky item on the menu even the animal kingdom respectful, recognizing the sorrowful solitude of this single intruder, so no cawing, honking, even rabbits quietly chewing, their senses understand this is a  remorseful write on a beauteous 1/365, an adieu + au revoir script to this island but then the sign! between Silver Beach and Noyac, three heads a-bobbing, white throats and white underbellies upright, too far away to be heard, but I swear I hear the purposeful porpoises saying: “Adieu! Adieu! until we see you and yours once more, for many more, till then, we await our mutual sheltering together, in our shared waters” <> our summer palace, where the sum of each newborn morn, begins a life extending day, offsetting the aging of cells, and softee smiles of children are botox injections, directed to the soul’s lining, an antigen antidote to the toll time’s antibodies extract, time units recorded and kept hid in the the surround sound of a special silence, the sounds of rays twinkling upon the waves, reminders to everyone that we are merely betwixt and between a plentiful heaven today and a plentiful heaven tomorrow
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Sep 15, 2022
Sep 15, 2022 at 2:01 PM UTC
Adieu, betwix & between, a plentiful quiet
Sep 15 10:45am Silver Beach, Peconic  Bay, Shelter Island it is the day of the twixt and tween, 64°, stolid breeze on a bright sunshiny day, but no question, we are well ensconced in **** season, overlooking the shadowy, dry, speckled blotchy, thirsty grass, and an empty bay, sails put aside it’s a normal/semi-normal moment, simultaneously secular and heaven blessed, the stimuli of the quietude is the outlier, it’s quantitude is overwhelming, it’s amplitude, a wave of farewell humbled hushed rumblings of wind and the drip of dropping leaves that fails to puncture the total absence of noises, human et. al. shirt off, chest wet & warmed, a light jacket, my wrapper from the firm chill, an undeniable temperate moment, for this is an interlude day, a goodbye and hello shucked/unshucked poem, the only semi-frisky item on the menu even the animal kingdom respectful, recognizing the sorrowful solitude of this single intruder, so no cawing, honking, even rabbits quietly chewing, their senses understand this is a  remorseful write on a beauteous 1/365, an adieu + au revoir script to this island but then the sign! between Silver Beach and Noyac, three heads a-bobbing, white throats and white underbellies upright, too far away to be heard, but I swear I hear the purposeful porpoises saying: “Adieu! Adieu! until we see you and yours once more, for many more, till then, we await our mutual sheltering together, in our shared waters” <> our summer palace, where the sum of each newborn morn, begins a life extending day, offsetting the aging of cells, and softee smiles of children are botox injections, directed to the soul’s lining, an antigen antidote to the toll time’s antibodies extract, time units recorded and kept hid in the the surround sound of a special silence, the sounds of rays twinkling upon the waves, reminders to everyone that we are merely betwixt and between a plentiful heaven today and a plentiful heaven tomorrow
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There you were by my side watching me wave my last goodbye, pains my heart I won't get to watch you wave yours. To not see you draped in your own charm, as tears rolled down your right eye as you wave your last goodbye, sadly it all ends, with him getting the best seat in the house, holding your hand, brushing his thumb on it to console you, as you cry in the light of your last goodbye, what I won't give god to be him for this one night, just to be there one last time by your side watching. - Diljeev
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Dec 24, 2020
Dec 24, 2020 at 10:41 AM UTC
last goodbye.
Whisper out your heart my beloved!! For I shall bear it with laugh, If what thou tongue voice is hatred, And laugh I shall gladly, If Cupid has decided it to be blessed. Whisper out your melodies my beloved!! Tainted with reminiscence of tragedies, But still it ought to be laughed, To close thy scars damped with tears. Fie the smiles harbouring cries. Whisper out our stories my beloved, And I intent to hear with interest, For my love is no jest. But if I art thou jester, Then jest I shall till thee groan with laughter. Whisper out something my beloved, Devoid emotion your face portrays. Why do you feel so cold?! Wake up love and do tell, Will you not whisper me farewell?
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Sep 9, 2020
Sep 9, 2020 at 12:03 PM UTC
Whisper
Have you ever noticed The green leaves in the summer Ever thought about the moment they would turn A different color When the yellows and oranges begin to bleed through Or do you only notice their beauty Before they whisper "Adieu"
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Jul 12, 2020
Jul 12, 2020 at 8:49 PM UTC
Adieu
my muse and I - riding on the coattails of infinity © 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
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Mar 23, 2020
Mar 23, 2020 at 11:51 PM UTC
adieu
Miss the heaven of your soul In memories far away Will you ever evanesce?! Will I always feel my way?! Not having bidden adieu Left me in purgatory Ah, I fell in love with you Like the Pyrrhic victory Warriors never give in And their values carry on I will drive dolours away Till your voice is clarion As dreams are effulgent, Living is no more bitter Your laughter is echoing Through the endless Ether I have the panacea A true poet never fails We gain little solaces Owing to hard travails
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Mar 7, 2020
Mar 7, 2020 at 1:46 PM UTC
Pyrrhic love
Me my true love did decry Cry She on whom I did rely Lie Now I see her walk on by Bye A bitter adieu— Bid her adieu © 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
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Feb 29, 2020
Feb 29, 2020 at 8:33 PM UTC
Bitter Adieu
Another day has passed, another dream collapsed, another spell is cast, but this desert, it seems so vast. A life spent in the search of meaning, might turn out to be an empty book, whose pages aren't worth turning. From beginning until the end, in all my searching, I could find, that every desire I cooked up in my mind, and every wish that filled my eyes with fire, were just a string of bad decisions, that has painted my inescapable past, and every emotion that I've come across, ran away from me so incredibly fast, and the only one that turned up in the end, is this overbearing stillness, that has occupied my mind. But now. The time has come, for me to overcome, this struggle, that is life, and put an end to my internal strife. From beginning until the end, I've realized all my searching was just to find, the perfect last words, to justify, me bidding adieu to this world.
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Feb 11, 2020
Feb 11, 2020 at 11:30 PM UTC
ADIEU
They say love blooms in the springtime and love is always true, but our love was just a moment in time your life was fleeting, my love adieu ALesiach © 02/03/2019
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Jul 29, 2019
Jul 29, 2019 at 12:51 PM UTC
My Love Adieu
It has been resolved! It is a crusted concept, inept and unabashed It is the last call on a windy city tram to the south side It is a favorite sports bar closed for remodel The pleasant bliss of air and undisclosed favorites I will finally extricate myself from the grips of Charybdis I will continue on, my sail billowing with glee the air is my fuel and neverrun empty Can you give a piece of El Dorado to my newfound friend, Can you give them the same happiness you promised me and don't let them wonder too long These unforgotten experiences that mean something to you-- It is an orange rind in the water, silently exfoliating the ions It is a concrete structure undefined All the stones that are friendly and snuggled intently against the mold I will find new homes in the volcanic chains and wonder about you You will never again remember the same way who I am, just the faded constraints of the way I challenged your brain Think of new things! See the trees as lungs and breeeeaaaathing You'll find that love in another chunk of god, no complaints for the weary The kind and lovable axeman who cuts u--Pondicherry I am a static mold and will rapidly extrue All the magnificence of things that I cannot view I am a rhythm of the heart, a beaming drum I analyze the air and drink it like *** Fermented love of god, give me no return To give that which no man has earned thank you, sweet love thank you for showing me something new.
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Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 7:18 PM UTC
Resolution
i should feel blessed to have things to miss. i only feel lucky, and rather empty to have something to miss is to have something to lose. i am stubborn. i am a sore loser. i will circle dates like a child to chirstmas for Orion, and for May. so until we feel the sun and its heat. i bid you adieu and my love from afar.
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Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 11:22 PM UTC
adieu or my love from afar
Fermenting About to turn twenty two how long has it been since I learned to tie lace of a shoe? how long since I learned the best way to live is without a clue I feel just like ten why does school seem to be so distant and fragmented then? Like a memory long unpolished yet bright. I'm older all right. Nah, I feel like fifteen why, then, for happiness do I turn to a five-inch screen? should be out in the field if I am a teen why doesn't the city, colors and friendship seem evergreen? Eighteen? nope. too dry to cry a river thinking the world is mean. Now I cheer for both the men fightin'. With inner peace comes bloodlust ridin' So this is what it feels like to be twenty-two! Not bad. one-third gone and now left is another two 'twenty-two' till I bid this consciousness adieu.
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Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 2:20 PM UTC
Fermenting
dancing orbs upon the water glistening in late summer sun such beautiful but sad reminders that now it's not the time for fun as summer birds now bid farewell too an days of long are nearly done sigh I look above to ancient skyways to a gathering of fall and fate coming quick in eerie dark blue wishing cold had come in late heavy rains have kept it wet here oh crying green in heavy weight, sing mystic breezes call Natosi ancient healing- God of sun "everything is coming to you yes you are a chosen one- your heart of gold was given rarely from thread of gold that heart was spun" thanks so much dear Apistotoke an grandmother my mother fate thank you for the strongest heartbeat fast like deer - I know not hate one day to see you once in real form behind the lovely heaven's gate I fold my hands in ancient patience for I know now that I must wait loving and enjoying my life to the fullest degree until I do until my last an dying breath has happened until my soul must bid its sweet adieu because everything in death is then reborn again anew an this I know within that big beating heart you say is made of threaded gold. Ma Cherie ©2017
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Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 12:19 PM UTC
fast like deer - I know not hate
Do You? Do you miss the way things were between us? Do you flinch with every passing thought of me being with another person, just as I flinch when I think of you Do you ache with pain knowing my hands, eyes, lips and mouth would adore the graciousness of another being? Do you playback series of different scenarios in your head about what might have been if either of us acted differently? Do you miss me telling you “I love you” as we both bid ourselves goodnight in hopes to be reunited once again at the break of dawn? Do you wish me happiness and joy in all my endeavors but wish you are always there to celebrate with me? Do you grow jealous of the other being I would newly grow to love and share devotion with? I just want to know if you do, ‘cause I do. And if you don't, I still won't blame you. I know we both said our byes, but it'll be a long time before my heart bids you adieu.
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Jul 21, 2017
Jul 21, 2017 at 9:15 PM UTC
Do you?
A sound was heard at my garden door A feathered smudge found upon it There she lay in frightened trembling dismay    A giant knelt ... yet still towering above her He reached out and touched her pounding heart Then cupped her warmth in his hand She stayed awhile until she could smile At the kindly human mystery This love they shared is uncommonly rare She knew she could be freed Before she flew she whispered a song she knew into the gentle giant’s  beard : “I cannot make you happy You're a wounded Bird like me ― be Free... you must find the strength to Fly”… "A Bird in your hand   is worth two in the bush ―    Come fly away with me"... March 2012 © harlon rivers ... all rights reserved .
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Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 1:13 PM UTC
A Bird in the Hand
Well folks Friday's here I bid y'all, adieu I'll try to be here off and on maybe postin, one or two Will see ya on Monday bright and early I suppose as the sun, comes shining through Postulated prose over the comin weekend God knows all the crap, I have to do Honey do's and honey dont's rewards I may, or may not get my ball's, could be turning blue
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Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 3:52 PM UTC
Till we meet again
For all the times I tried to hide All the darkness I've defied And all those times I felt alive Only to fall down again and die I know some people refuse to see The life I lead, the blood I bleed The reasons I did things that just weren't clean And when I hid away, just let me be I don't expect everybody to trust The passion, the fire, the anger, the lust The security, loyalty, vision deceives It's how you perceive, how you see me And I'm sorry that tonight I said goodbye But it's better for you, I ain't gonna lie In every lie there's a kernel of truth And it shows me that I was never right for you
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Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 3:09 AM UTC
Adieu, mademoiselles
With a heavy heart let me bid adieu my love Henceforth we will not see each other now Where from this dilemma came to us and how Fortune takes it and in front of fate to bow Whenever beauty is molested by dew drops Soul goes to pieces and by dagger heart chops No seeds of love needs to be sown for crops Love and beauty are not commodities of shops With cleanliness of heart I bid you but adieu You appeared my love like moon out of blue As you wish and aspire I will not ask to renew Whatever relationship was that was but virtue Col Muhammad Khalid Khan Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
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Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 5:53 AM UTC
To Bid Adieu
Reclining on a chair, thinking of you The happy days when we shared a stew. My mind crowded with your thoughts Made me remember the dazed past. Days we sat for hours at a stretch Sound of silence, creeping toward the crest. Friendship: a gesture, putting no pressure or demand An affection with no label, warm and grand. Our friendship I thought, will last forever, BANG!! it came down, with a shiver. Shattered and bruised, untended and raw Months at a stretch, with no liniment at all. You are set to leave, history wiped so clean If the fate is kind, we would meet again. Adieu sounds so final; Au revoir my friend...
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May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 11:54 AM UTC
A stroll down memory lane