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Non, ce n'est pas une question rhétorique Si tu es quelqu'un, dis-le à voix haute Répète-le souvent. Sois heureux et fier « Tu es quelqu'un ». « Tu es quelqu'un » Ce poème est souvent récité par l'homme d'action Notre regretté frère, le révérend Jesse Jackson Un leader, une légende, un héros qui a lutté pour nos droits civiques et de vote pour l'égalité La liberté, la justice, la démocratie, le respect, les opportunités et la compassion Pour tous. Aux côtés de Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Medgar Evers et d'autres, il a combattu le racisme, L’apartheid, l'injustice, les préjugés, l'inégalité, la violence, la brutalité, le sexisme et le cynisme Frère Jesse nous a appris « À ne jamais abandonner » « À garder l’espoir » et « À nous inscrire sur les listes électorales ». « Tu es quelqu'un ». Le poème écrit par le Révérend William H. Borders Jr. Les larmes aux yeux, je ne l'ai pas encore lu Mais je ressens les émotions, l'énergie, la force et la passion qu'il dégage transmet et propage avec force Je suis sûr que tu ressens l'inspiration, l'électricité, la chaleur qui brûle jusqu'au plus profond de mon être Es-tu quelqu'un ? Oui, tu es quelqu'un Lève-toi, dresse-toi et crie-le haut et fort : Tu es quelqu'un. Lève-toi, et sois fier Oui, oui, tu es un être humain magnifique Oui, tu es un être fier et magnifique Merci Jesse d'aimer tous les enfants de Dieu Merci aux révérends Borders Jr. et Jesse L. Jackson Sr. Pour ces mots simples et puissants. L'inspiration vient du Dieu Tout-Puissant Qui es-tu ? Es-tu sûr d'être quelqu'un ? Oui, oui, tu es quelqu'un, tu es quelqu'un Moi aussi, je suis quelqu'un Moi aussi, je suis quelqu'un. Je suis quelqu'un Nous sommes TOUS ‘quelqu'un’. P.-S. Traduction Du Poème « Are-You Somebody? » Par Hébert Logerie Ce poème est dédié au révérend William Borders Jr., Au révérend Jesse Louis Burns Jackson Sr., à nos familles et aux enfants du monde. Copyright © février 2026 Hébert Logerie. Tous droits réservés. Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poésie.
0
Feb 22
Feb 22, 2026 at 11:40 PM UTC
60Etncelles60
Hommage Au Rev. Jesse Louis Burns Jackson Sr. Ou Es-tu Quelqu'un
Non, ce n'est pas une question rhétorique Si tu es quelqu'un, dis-le à voix haute Répète-le souvent. Sois heureux et fier « Tu es quelqu'un ». « Tu es quelqu'un » Ce poème est souvent récité par l'homme d'action Notre regretté frère, le révérend Jesse Jackson Un leader, une légende, un héros qui a lutté pour nos droits civiques et de vote pour l'égalité La liberté, la justice, la démocratie, le respect, les opportunités et la compassion Pour tous. Aux côtés de Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Medgar Evers et d'autres, il a combattu le racisme, L’apartheid, l'injustice, les préjugés, l'inégalité, la violence, la brutalité, le sexisme et le cynisme Frère Jesse nous a appris « À ne jamais abandonner » « À garder l’espoir » et « À nous inscrire sur les listes électorales ». « Tu es quelqu'un ». Le poème écrit par le Révérend William H. Borders Jr. Les larmes aux yeux, je ne l'ai pas encore lu Mais je ressens les émotions, l'énergie, la force et la passion qu'il dégage transmet et propage avec force Je suis sûr que tu ressens l'inspiration, l'électricité, la chaleur qui brûle jusqu'au plus profond de mon être Es-tu quelqu'un ? Oui, tu es quelqu'un Lève-toi, dresse-toi et crie-le haut et fort : Tu es quelqu'un. Lève-toi, et sois fier Oui, oui, tu es un être humain magnifique Oui, tu es un être fier et magnifique Merci Jesse d'aimer tous les enfants de Dieu Merci aux révérends Borders Jr. et Jesse L. Jackson Sr. Pour ces mots simples et puissants. L'inspiration vient du Dieu Tout-Puissant Qui es-tu ? Es-tu sûr d'être quelqu'un ? Oui, oui, tu es quelqu'un, tu es quelqu'un Moi aussi, je suis quelqu'un Moi aussi, je suis quelqu'un. Je suis quelqu'un Nous sommes TOUS ‘quelqu'un’. P.-S. Traduction Du Poème « Are-You Somebody? » Par Hébert Logerie Ce poème est dédié au révérend William Borders Jr., Au révérend Jesse Louis Burns Jackson Sr., à nos familles et aux enfants du monde. Copyright © février 2026 Hébert Logerie. Tous droits réservés. Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poésie.
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34
Daughters of neighbors pierced the skin of the skies, riding chariots of fire, floating nine months in the arms of weightless stars. They whispered to the void, grew life where even breath has no permission to exist. But here — our daughters sit behind locked doors, trapped in silence at the end of the street, where schools are closed, where a blackboard is a battlefield, and a book a forbidden fruit. They planted seeds in space, in the soil of galaxies, while we— we could not plant a single seed of mercy in the hearts of those who breathe oxygen too richly to share. O Sunita! You carried the prayers of science beyond the blue. But our girls? Their wings were broken not by gravity but by impatience, by fear, by chains disguised as customs. How long? How long will the stars sing while our daughters are silenced? The earth has already taken flight, and we— we are still binding the feet of angels. Let us give them wings too. Let them fly— not to escape, but to arrive. Let them touch the sky, and return with the soft, burning realization of their own light. Because the sky is not for a few. It was made for every dream that dares to open its eyes.
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Mar 27, 2025
Mar 27, 2025 at 8:29 AM UTC
Muhammad_Sami_Sadiq
Wings of Light and Silence
Daughters of neighbors pierced the skin of the skies, riding chariots of fire, floating nine months in the arms of weightless stars. They whispered to the void, grew life where even breath has no permission to exist. But here — our daughters sit behind locked doors, trapped in silence at the end of the street, where schools are closed, where a blackboard is a battlefield, and a book a forbidden fruit. They planted seeds in space, in the soil of galaxies, while we— we could not plant a single seed of mercy in the hearts of those who breathe oxygen too richly to share. O Sunita! You carried the prayers of science beyond the blue. But our girls? Their wings were broken not by gravity but by impatience, by fear, by chains disguised as customs. How long? How long will the stars sing while our daughters are silenced? The earth has already taken flight, and we— we are still binding the feet of angels. Let us give them wings too. Let them fly— not to escape, but to arrive. Let them touch the sky, and return with the soft, burning realization of their own light. Because the sky is not for a few. It was made for every dream that dares to open its eyes.
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52
Even with a thousand heads and souls around me, The thought of loneliness always resided with me I did not intend to fit in everyone's sizes, Nor was I proud of the bottle that shook with rage, ready to spill My life disintegrates within a flash of a solution I present myself and my energy to a dull audience But the same smiles just stare speechless, gawking at me I paraded willfully, expressing myself through art that was repulsive to many Yet, there were a few eyes that presented a beacon, despite my addictions crumbling the floor beneath me I reached out and touched the flames that singed my hair Till I landed on flowers They were not the gorgeous type, But they were just like me: Odd, beautiful, deterring, and tiresome. One of them shared a joke about death, It forced a laugh out of me, till I realized today was April Fools' Day A skull-shaped bud cries in front of me, similar to that of a child I take in the smell of the hole I've fallen in, though the fall was cushioned by giant red flowers As pretty as they are, their smell is who I am I look above and see a crucifix in the sky Then the darkness falls in, and I accept the undeniable truth by closing my eyes.
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May 12, 2022
May 12, 2022 at 3:53 AM UTC
ValentineVampires
Snap Dragons Presented with Rotting Flesh
Even with a thousand heads and souls around me, The thought of loneliness always resided with me I did not intend to fit in everyone's sizes, Nor was I proud of the bottle that shook with rage, ready to spill My life disintegrates within a flash of a solution I present myself and my energy to a dull audience But the same smiles just stare speechless, gawking at me I paraded willfully, expressing myself through art that was repulsive to many Yet, there were a few eyes that presented a beacon, despite my addictions crumbling the floor beneath me I reached out and touched the flames that singed my hair Till I landed on flowers They were not the gorgeous type, But they were just like me: Odd, beautiful, deterring, and tiresome. One of them shared a joke about death, It forced a laugh out of me, till I realized today was April Fools' Day A skull-shaped bud cries in front of me, similar to that of a child I take in the smell of the hole I've fallen in, though the fall was cushioned by giant red flowers As pretty as they are, their smell is who I am I look above and see a crucifix in the sky Then the darkness falls in, and I accept the undeniable truth by closing my eyes.
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21
This is just to say when i gave you that poem I had no inkling Of what was to come - all the pain awaiting us The ancestral sin Temptation, assured We were manicured, shared prose Dog-hungry for plums.
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Apr 19, 2019
Apr 19, 2019 at 10:51 AM UTC
MissyJoyBrown
Cold and Delicious
This is just to say when i gave you that poem I had no inkling Of what was to come - all the pain awaiting us The ancestral sin Temptation, assured We were manicured, shared prose Dog-hungry for plums.
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9
1. Jorge still in the night he does not remember why —sounds of her sighs her small ears pressing into the tight space of the day or the tenderness between him and her held in the air the repeated denial of the time set chained to hold their plans were revolting against trysts spent in another’s gaze 2. Sebastian the tenacious sense in arrangement lets slip imitation how I could possess your breath and bear it delicately freeing my stances I strained in celebration at the sanctification that you’d granted to Saint Sebastian in Irene’s blessing will healing hands make poetry or trap the shaking of my languid silver pens taut but not ready 3. Carlos the sweet words brought for the lovers that beats hard each hesitance leaps without fear regarding that their time is now here the shape that your sighs take suggesting as if limits don’t exist
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Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 4:41 PM UTC
ATBockholdt
Enacting Imitation
1. Jorge still in the night he does not remember why —sounds of her sighs her small ears pressing into the tight space of the day or the tenderness between him and her held in the air the repeated denial of the time set chained to hold their plans were revolting against trysts spent in another’s gaze 2. Sebastian the tenacious sense in arrangement lets slip imitation how I could possess your breath and bear it delicately freeing my stances I strained in celebration at the sanctification that you’d granted to Saint Sebastian in Irene’s blessing will healing hands make poetry or trap the shaking of my languid silver pens taut but not ready 3. Carlos the sweet words brought for the lovers that beats hard each hesitance leaps without fear regarding that their time is now here the shape that your sighs take suggesting as if limits don’t exist
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57
sometimes happiness doesn't smile sometimes the face of happiness is a cry for help sometimes laughter is the soundtrack to pain sometimes a joker is in fact going insane sometimes your idols are more then idols sometimes idols are just human sometimes your idols are more then idols sometimes idols are just human - t.m
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Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 1:08 PM UTC
05tm
mr williams
sometimes happiness doesn't smile sometimes the face of happiness is a cry for help sometimes laughter is the soundtrack to pain sometimes a joker is in fact going insane sometimes your idols are more then idols sometimes idols are just human sometimes your idols are more then idols sometimes idols are just human - t.m
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19
You ate them? You ate the ******* plums that were in the fridge? God, you're a selfish *******
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Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 1:32 AM UTC
joe-thompson
A Note to William Carlos Williams
You ate them? You ate the ******* plums that were in the fridge? God, you're a selfish *******
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4
Of course you believe in magic. What you pull from your hat is far from the tricks of a rabbit. You've made being aware the least of your bad habits. There is a light in your eyes. A fiery summer sky. One worth wishing upon the stars of your mind. A galaxy worth marveling at beyond these times. It takes courage to be strong; thank you for being courageous. You are the example of what our ancestors wanted for us. I hope you continue on with the spirit of change & may God see you through! You're a King; a good thing & we need more like you!
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Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 12:43 PM UTC
Trupoetry
An Ode to Jesse Williams
Of course you believe in magic. What you pull from your hat is far from the tricks of a rabbit. You've made being aware the least of your bad habits. There is a light in your eyes. A fiery summer sky. One worth wishing upon the stars of your mind. A galaxy worth marveling at beyond these times. It takes courage to be strong; thank you for being courageous. You are the example of what our ancestors wanted for us. I hope you continue on with the spirit of change & may God see you through! You're a King; a good thing & we need more like you!
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11
And he wanted to join, "the living poets society," because it was a club I was in, and he wanted to hear my poems at my own will, and write some of his own, And he wanted to do it, so he could get close to me, *But isn't that one thing they argued about, in the movie?*
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May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 3:48 PM UTC
GodDamnItCat
Living Poets Society,
And he wanted to join, "the living poets society," because it was a club I was in, and he wanted to hear my poems at my own will, and write some of his own, And he wanted to do it, so he could get close to me, *But isn't that one thing they argued about, in the movie?*
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9
Love Love is twain, it is not single, Gold and silver mixed to one, Passion ‘tis and pain which mingle Glist'ring then for aye undone. Pain it is not; wondering pity Dies or e'er the pang is fled; Passion ‘tis not, foul and gritty, Born one instant, instant dead. Love is twain, it is not single, Gold and silver mixed to one, Passion ‘tis and pain which mingle Glist'ring then for aye undone.
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May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 5:01 AM UTC
mike-essig
William Carlos Williams
Love Love is twain, it is not single, Gold and silver mixed to one, Passion ‘tis and pain which mingle Glist'ring then for aye undone. Pain it is not; wondering pity Dies or e'er the pang is fled; Passion ‘tis not, foul and gritty, Born one instant, instant dead. Love is twain, it is not single, Gold and silver mixed to one, Passion ‘tis and pain which mingle Glist'ring then for aye undone.
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13
Arrival And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks of her dress in a strange bedroom-- feels the autumn dropping its silk and linen leaves about her ankles. The ****** veined body emerges twisted upon itself like a winter wind . . . !
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May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 10:03 PM UTC
mike-essig
William Carlos Williams
Arrival And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks of her dress in a strange bedroom-- feels the autumn dropping its silk and linen leaves about her ankles. The ****** veined body emerges twisted upon itself like a winter wind . . . !
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11
Spring And All By the road to the contagious hospital under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast -- a cold wind. Beyond, the waste of broad, muddy fields brown with dried weeds, standing and fallen patches of standing water the scattering of tall trees All along the road the reddish purplish, forked, upstanding, twiggy stuff of bushes and small trees with dead, brown leaves under them leafless vines -- Lifeless in appearance, sluggish dazed spring approaches -- They enter the new world naked, cold, uncertain of all save that they enter. All about them the cold, familiar wind -- Now the grass, tomorrow the stiff curl of wildcarrot leaf One by one objects are defined -- It quickens: clarity, outline of leaf But now the stark dignity of entrance -- Still, the profound change has come upon them: rooted they grip down and begin to awaken
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Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 5:49 AM UTC
mike-essig
William Carlos Williams
Spring And All By the road to the contagious hospital under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast -- a cold wind. Beyond, the waste of broad, muddy fields brown with dried weeds, standing and fallen patches of standing water the scattering of tall trees All along the road the reddish purplish, forked, upstanding, twiggy stuff of bushes and small trees with dead, brown leaves under them leafless vines -- Lifeless in appearance, sluggish dazed spring approaches -- They enter the new world naked, cold, uncertain of all save that they enter. All about them the cold, familiar wind -- Now the grass, tomorrow the stiff curl of wildcarrot leaf One by one objects are defined -- It quickens: clarity, outline of leaf But now the stark dignity of entrance -- Still, the profound change has come upon them: rooted they grip down and begin to awaken
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28
You brought us so much happiness, You taught us how to laugh, You brought us Mork and Mindy, Didn't do comedy by half, Popeye the spinach eating sailor, Patch Adams' squeaky shoes, Happy films made for kids, Childhood's not to lose, Things we didn't understand, About your private life, About the drink and drugs, And depression that was rife, The day that comedy died, The day you took your life, The family that will miss you, The sadness of your wife.
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Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 2:48 PM UTC
raymond-dickson
Robin Williams
You brought us so much happiness, You taught us how to laugh, You brought us Mork and Mindy, Didn't do comedy by half, Popeye the spinach eating sailor, Patch Adams' squeaky shoes, Happy films made for kids, Childhood's not to lose, Things we didn't understand, About your private life, About the drink and drugs, And depression that was rife, The day that comedy died, The day you took your life, The family that will miss you, The sadness of your wife.
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16
My mentor was your friend He spoke so animatedly of your passion and humor You were the single light bulb in a closet of clutter I wish I could've experienced your soul I was told you were bright and kind like the morning sun No one knew the dark cloud behind your golden rays You were my father, though you never knew it Showing me that father figures always had my best interest Your shadow hasn't left us We miss your smile, genuine or not It hurts me knowing that I'll never get to make you smile back.
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Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
chloe-fuller
Robin
My mentor was your friend He spoke so animatedly of your passion and humor You were the single light bulb in a closet of clutter I wish I could've experienced your soul I was told you were bright and kind like the morning sun No one knew the dark cloud behind your golden rays You were my father, though you never knew it Showing me that father figures always had my best interest Your shadow hasn't left us We miss your smile, genuine or not It hurts me knowing that I'll never get to make you smile back.
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11
So much depends upon The open sky cut open by the trees By the rain by the lives that we led Upside down we stood as if for years Waiting to become the person We were meant to be On the back trails of our open heart So much depends upon Listening to Bach in the dark How poets undressed our sympathy In clothes of the absolute So much depends upon The sound of Mandarin like Circumstance, and stillness that never dies These were the cries that we reached Out for, as if we could grasp the light So much depends upon The dreaming of what is possible And prowling around the people Whom we let hurt us in order to Learn more completely how to feel.
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Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 10:26 PM UTC
wuji-shiu
So much depends
So much depends upon The open sky cut open by the trees By the rain by the lives that we led Upside down we stood as if for years Waiting to become the person We were meant to be On the back trails of our open heart So much depends upon Listening to Bach in the dark How poets undressed our sympathy In clothes of the absolute So much depends upon The sound of Mandarin like Circumstance, and stillness that never dies These were the cries that we reached Out for, as if we could grasp the light So much depends upon The dreaming of what is possible And prowling around the people Whom we let hurt us in order to Learn more completely how to feel.
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21
In a cave by the ocean burned A man's heart from his chest cavity Carved open, froth from the sea Slipping into his lungs and Smoke from all the guns ever triggered Seeped from behind his eyes, Lips cracked with the truth but spoke Only regret, Mouth forever frozen in enlightenment Sought but not shared, And oh, how the ocean weeps, For messages in bottles mean nothing Without ink.
0
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 8:51 PM UTC
III
Teeth Of Caves So Often Hold Truths
In a cave by the ocean burned A man's heart from his chest cavity Carved open, froth from the sea Slipping into his lungs and Smoke from all the guns ever triggered Seeped from behind his eyes, Lips cracked with the truth but spoke Only regret, Mouth forever frozen in enlightenment Sought but not shared, And oh, how the ocean weeps, For messages in bottles mean nothing Without ink.
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13
they say the saddest are the most happy how a comedian can stand up on stage to make himself the world’s fool because he had never heard of a joke like love our lady of perpetual sorrow grabs the fool from everyone a leach of life that chooses to choose a happiness like you extracts all it can like nectar to a bee but it’s almost relieving when it had no where else to be i have begun to believe life isn't about all the joys to feel and things to see it's not about you and it's definitely not about me the illusion is that greatness is up and failure is down when   true progression doesn’t care for dimensions remember the comedian who hates it all who makes it funny because he recalls if i can’t be happy everyone can
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Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 5:07 PM UTC
khwaja
Tribute to Tito Alfaro and Robin Williams
they say the saddest are the most happy how a comedian can stand up on stage to make himself the world’s fool because he had never heard of a joke like love our lady of perpetual sorrow grabs the fool from everyone a leach of life that chooses to choose a happiness like you extracts all it can like nectar to a bee but it’s almost relieving when it had no where else to be i have begun to believe life isn't about all the joys to feel and things to see it's not about you and it's definitely not about me the illusion is that greatness is up and failure is down when   true progression doesn’t care for dimensions remember the comedian who hates it all who makes it funny because he recalls if i can’t be happy everyone can
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32
Coming and going, like a lucid dream. Ebbing and flowing like a rolling stream. The good and the bad. All rolled into one. The happy and the sad. Give this life it's fun. It's hard I admit but its worth it. I swear. So grab your life by the horns and do what you dare. -AJ
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Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
adam-johnson
Carpe Diem
Coming and going, like a lucid dream. Ebbing and flowing like a rolling stream. The good and the bad. All rolled into one. The happy and the sad. Give this life it's fun. It's hard I admit but its worth it. I swear. So grab your life by the horns and do what you dare. -AJ
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2
Robin, so richly, You gave to the pour Of talents, with which you Would hold our rapport, Until your last show, With no more to give, You took one last bow And chose not to live; Your legend lives on, And we honor thy name; For tho' you are gone, You will always remain A star in the night sky, Your light won't e'er cease; Oh Robin, dear Robin, fly To rested peace.
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Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
tryst
Prince of Thieves
Robin, so richly, You gave to the pour Of talents, with which you Would hold our rapport, Until your last show, With no more to give, You took one last bow And chose not to live; Your legend lives on, And we honor thy name; For tho' you are gone, You will always remain A star in the night sky, Your light won't e'er cease; Oh Robin, dear Robin, fly To rested peace.
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16
Carpe Diem funny boy did you wait till it was too late hurry hurry worry worry you took life in big giant bites and then had to stop to break only when you defeated yourself hurry hurry worry worry but even then after breaking you got up and overcame your life and art were amazing and never the same race hard then fall or stall and then once again get up and give it your all you did it again and again be extraordinary hurry hurry worry worry never the same look how you overcame Good Will Hunting Dead Poets Jumanji Mork from Ork Patch Adams Awakenings with De Niro Aladdin Death to Smoochy Insomnia Peter Pan Mrs Doubtfire Good Morning Vietnam Jakob the Liar hurry hurry worry worry I have to stop not because I am out of art there are many more but because my fingers are tired of typing titles Peter Pan you stayed young fought the dark and won many triumphs again and again hurry hurry worry worry you ran an amazing race and a pace for two lifetimes in the end the dark caught you but you left behind a mark of amazing art "gather ye rosebuds while ye may"                                     - Robert Herrick Carpe Diem Rest funny man
0
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
JustArunC
Robin Williams 1951-2014, Carpe Diem
Carpe Diem funny boy did you wait till it was too late hurry hurry worry worry you took life in big giant bites and then had to stop to break only when you defeated yourself hurry hurry worry worry but even then after breaking you got up and overcame your life and art were amazing and never the same race hard then fall or stall and then once again get up and give it your all you did it again and again be extraordinary hurry hurry worry worry never the same look how you overcame Good Will Hunting Dead Poets Jumanji Mork from Ork Patch Adams Awakenings with De Niro Aladdin Death to Smoochy Insomnia Peter Pan Mrs Doubtfire Good Morning Vietnam Jakob the Liar hurry hurry worry worry I have to stop not because I am out of art there are many more but because my fingers are tired of typing titles Peter Pan you stayed young fought the dark and won many triumphs again and again hurry hurry worry worry you ran an amazing race and a pace for two lifetimes in the end the dark caught you but you left behind a mark of amazing art "gather ye rosebuds while ye may"                                     - Robert Herrick Carpe Diem Rest funny man
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65
I want to write About you Your laughter, maniacal antics, wit Witticism, whimsy The way you made me think deep Through the belly rolling, stomach cramping “please stop” But not really…so much fun laughter…sent To ponder the silliness of my existence The absurdity of my serious self Your fantastical smile and that particular sadness In your eyes just beyond reach, casting a spell of Connectivity Humanity … I want to write about The innumerable truths you spoke Written in lines, given to you…owned by you Known through you “Words and ideas can change the world” My world… Why not your world? **** it. … I want to write about you But I Can’t…it hurts too much Robin… It hurts too much.
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Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC
kim-e-williams
On Losing...Loosing Robin Williams
I want to write About you Your laughter, maniacal antics, wit Witticism, whimsy The way you made me think deep Through the belly rolling, stomach cramping “please stop” But not really…so much fun laughter…sent To ponder the silliness of my existence The absurdity of my serious self Your fantastical smile and that particular sadness In your eyes just beyond reach, casting a spell of Connectivity Humanity … I want to write about The innumerable truths you spoke Written in lines, given to you…owned by you Known through you “Words and ideas can change the world” My world… Why not your world? **** it. … I want to write about you But I Can’t…it hurts too much Robin… It hurts too much.
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29