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"adage" poems
As mother nature's Punitive measure Against a society In maintaining The statuesque That doesn't bother, Our rivers Had become subject To a water thirst, To the extent Of projecting Rocky ribs Terrifyingly protruded out For easy count! But now thanks to The all-out, terrace making And reafforestation effort Of each catchment Farmers have made a point And also  to the afforestation Move of the government Rivers aside from quenching Their insatiable thirst Have resumed To brim over With floods Drinking water To their hearts' content. Our forests once stripped of Their wooded cover Have started, fast, to recover From afar they are seen Robed eye-catching green From a fry-pan sky Allowing a shelter Also busy Carbon to sequester. Wild animals That migrated Have preferred Back their way to find. Now farmers don't have Deep to dig To sink a water well Or find a nearby spring. Birds are heard chirruping Be it winter, summer or spring, While Brooks bubbling. Buzzing and hovering From this to that flower Bees are producing Organic honey by the hour. Promising a bumper harvest Farmer's plots have Fortunately continued To resuscitate! Those leaving Their denuded abode behind Away, who preferred To stay 'We will return back home soon! ' Is what They  say. Happily enough Mother nature Affords us a second chance Imbued with Environment stewardship If  we are willing to mend Our wrong 'Feast today famine tomorrow! ' stance. To dispel the spectre Of climate change And systematically face The global challenge True to the adage 'We have either to swim together or sink together! ' Hence in fighting the challenge Or adapting to the change Back scratching, We have to be on the same page. Indeed, irrigation must Not slip our mind For erratic rainfall A  lasting solution If we must find.// Once a famous Ethiopian Poet  Pro.Debebe Seifu Who had passed away had  penned down a picturesque poem lamenting the land degradation, deforestation and change of climate the country was suffering.The bad scenario seemed unrecoverable.Now a days Ethiopia is reversing that sad episode.I have therefore to write a poem on this #change   #trees   #erosion   #climate   #deforestation   #enviroment   #degeradation   #desertification
0
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 4:22 AM UTC
Fortunately it resuscitates
As mother nature's Punitive measure Against a society In maintaining The statuesque That doesn't bother, Our rivers Had become subject To a water thirst, To the extent Of projecting Rocky ribs Terrifyingly protruded out For easy count! But now thanks to The all-out, terrace making And reafforestation effort Of each catchment Farmers have made a point And also  to the afforestation Move of the government Rivers aside from quenching Their insatiable thirst Have resumed To brim over With floods Drinking water To their hearts' content. Our forests once stripped of Their wooded cover Have started, fast, to recover From afar they are seen Robed eye-catching green From a fry-pan sky Allowing a shelter Also busy Carbon to sequester. Wild animals That migrated Have preferred Back their way to find. Now farmers don't have Deep to dig To sink a water well Or find a nearby spring. Birds are heard chirruping Be it winter, summer or spring, While Brooks bubbling. Buzzing and hovering From this to that flower Bees are producing Organic honey by the hour. Promising a bumper harvest Farmer's plots have Fortunately continued To resuscitate! Those leaving Their denuded abode behind Away, who preferred To stay 'We will return back home soon! ' Is what They  say. Happily enough Mother nature Affords us a second chance Imbued with Environment stewardship If  we are willing to mend Our wrong 'Feast today famine tomorrow! ' stance. To dispel the spectre Of climate change And systematically face The global challenge True to the adage 'We have either to swim together or sink together! ' Hence in fighting the challenge Or adapting to the change Back scratching, We have to be on the same page. Indeed, irrigation must Not slip our mind For erratic rainfall A  lasting solution If we must find.// Once a famous Ethiopian Poet  Pro.Debebe Seifu Who had passed away had  penned down a picturesque poem lamenting the land degradation, deforestation and change of climate the country was suffering.The bad scenario seemed unrecoverable.Now a days Ethiopia is reversing that sad episode.I have therefore to write a poem on this #change   #trees   #erosion   #climate   #deforestation   #enviroment   #degeradation   #desertification
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91
*she's a corrosive story Hidden within a mirror Never to be heard again As I gulp down my favorite cheap ***** I wondered  with amazement at my ignorance And the vicious adage that crippled me love is blind You were a ruthless callous soul and still remnants of your cold heart still linger in my thoughts loving you was devastating*
0
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 2:10 AM UTC
Those days (III)
We are told that Nothing trumps Trump's Misogyny but truth will out When his sexist shtick is a Gift that keeps giving for His Republican rivals, Whose Lips are sealed, but by Their deeds their hands are unclean. We know that Bush did not beat about the bush When he said of women on welfare that “They should Be able to get their life Together and find a husband" We know that Walker repealed Wisconsin's only Equal pay law and supported anti-choice Invasive intrusion of a woman's right To choose. We know that Mike H Has mused that he thinks women Who cannot control their “Libido" Should not “curse” and Jay Z is really A **** seems to be exploiting Beyoncé. We know that Rubio opposed re-authorizing the Violence against Women Act, even though he knew What it meant when he opposed the Paycheck Fairness Act. We know Rand P was rightly Republican in similarly Voting against the Paycheck Act, and in his college secret Society promoted Anita B's views that oral *** was a sin. Perhaps they all need to look in the mirror and adhere to The Biblical adage that "He who is without sin should Cast the first stone" But what is sin anyway?
0
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
Sexist Shtick
Laboriously beleaguering hypercritically meticulous hypotaxis apomixis strive Rainbow mare aura roan exude emote derive Syntactical propinquity habitation harbinger harangue stoic hive Colloquialism vernaculars prurient adage jargon idiom clichés jive Mirador bartizan panorama stalwart bastion bulwark tableau live Canny cleaver crafty cunning furtive sneaky stealthy connive Poignant cogent piquant ephemeral effulgence  temporal refraction arrive Paradoxical dichotomy greaves gauntlets gamut catalyst abstracts survive Hectic mayhem , proximity parameter perimeter peripherals , annihilate rive Zingy zesty zany zenithal azimuth entity zeal alive
0
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 9:11 PM UTC
Contiguity Continuities
In the intricate tapestry of love, the adage "once a cheater, always a cheater" weaves a cautionary thread. It is a phrase laden with the weight of experience, a mantra that whispers of broken trust and shattered vows. When someone treads the path of betrayal, leaving the fragments of a once-whole heart in their wake, the scars run deep. The echoes of deceit reverberate in the corridors of love, leaving those who have been wounded hesitant to trust again. The notion, "once a cheater, always a cheater," emerges as a defense mechanism, a shield against the vulnerability of being deceived once more. Yet, in the realm of love, the narrative isn't always so black and white. People evolve, learn from their mistakes, and yearn for redemption. It's crucial to acknowledge the capacity for change within each individual. While the wounds of betrayal may linger, they need not dictate the course of someone's entire romantic journey. The human experience is multifaceted, and relationships are complex landscapes. People stumble, fall, and sometimes, they rise anew, reshaped by the crucible of their own errors. Love, at its essence, encompasses forgiveness, growth, and the possibility of second chances. So, while the cautionary phrase carries the weight of wisdom, it is equally important to recognize the potential for transformation. People can break free from the chains of their past misdeeds, learn to value trust, and construct relationships founded on honesty and integrity. Love, after all, is as much about healing as it is about the initial spark. In the end the tale of "once a cheater, always a cheater" is not a universal truth but rather a reminder that love demands conscientious navigation. It prompts us to approach relationships with discernment, to treasure the fragility of trust, and to foster an environment where growth and change are not only possible but celebrated.
0
Nov 25, 2023
Nov 25, 2023 at 7:26 AM UTC
once a cheater always a cheater
In the intricate tapestry of love, the adage "once a cheater, always a cheater" weaves a cautionary thread. It is a phrase laden with the weight of experience, a mantra that whispers of broken trust and shattered vows. When someone treads the path of betrayal, leaving the fragments of a once-whole heart in their wake, the scars run deep. The echoes of deceit reverberate in the corridors of love, leaving those who have been wounded hesitant to trust again. The notion, "once a cheater, always a cheater," emerges as a defense mechanism, a shield against the vulnerability of being deceived once more. Yet, in the realm of love, the narrative isn't always so black and white. People evolve, learn from their mistakes, and yearn for redemption. It's crucial to acknowledge the capacity for change within each individual. While the wounds of betrayal may linger, they need not dictate the course of someone's entire romantic journey. The human experience is multifaceted, and relationships are complex landscapes. People stumble, fall, and sometimes, they rise anew, reshaped by the crucible of their own errors. Love, at its essence, encompasses forgiveness, growth, and the possibility of second chances. So, while the cautionary phrase carries the weight of wisdom, it is equally important to recognize the potential for transformation. People can break free from the chains of their past misdeeds, learn to value trust, and construct relationships founded on honesty and integrity. Love, after all, is as much about healing as it is about the initial spark. In the end the tale of "once a cheater, always a cheater" is not a universal truth but rather a reminder that love demands conscientious navigation. It prompts us to approach relationships with discernment, to treasure the fragility of trust, and to foster an environment where growth and change are not only possible but celebrated.
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34
"It's good, but maybe you should write shorter," I was told. Granted this was told to me by a man that believes the word artistic to be closely related to the word autistic, but I can only assume that riding any unfamiliar wavelength is terribly confusing, if not immeasurably difficult. Knowing that you can confide in yourself, whether or not I'm misinterpreting individual delegation for conscience, I believe altruism to be fundamental to a person before growth can occur. Unless of course you're writing short poems. And if you're curious enough to implement apathy, sarcasm is a fine starting point. They say that if you want to master something you need to perform daily. Accompany this with the old adage, "Love what you do," and you can imagine the potential. Mastering an activity with love is transcendent, calm although sometimes piquant. Passion and pleasure aren't identical, but imagine the potential. I don't bleed ink. It has to be an attempt at benevolence, to say that. Extreme literary pretensions you must have to bleed out. Writing should have a pulse. It. Should. Make. Each. Word. Count. Yet, when this man told me that my words are good, but I should keep it shorter, knowing not if I could or would, I became curious as to why he worried more about length and not the content and story as a whole. Then I had to rationalize this to myself, and thought: It would be easier to convey words with images, like a film or animation. But I don't bleed ink, and I guess I don't bleed popcorn.
0
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 11:16 AM UTC
I Don't Bleed Popcorn
"It's good, but maybe you should write shorter," I was told. Granted this was told to me by a man that believes the word artistic to be closely related to the word autistic, but I can only assume that riding any unfamiliar wavelength is terribly confusing, if not immeasurably difficult. Knowing that you can confide in yourself, whether or not I'm misinterpreting individual delegation for conscience, I believe altruism to be fundamental to a person before growth can occur. Unless of course you're writing short poems. And if you're curious enough to implement apathy, sarcasm is a fine starting point. They say that if you want to master something you need to perform daily. Accompany this with the old adage, "Love what you do," and you can imagine the potential. Mastering an activity with love is transcendent, calm although sometimes piquant. Passion and pleasure aren't identical, but imagine the potential. I don't bleed ink. It has to be an attempt at benevolence, to say that. Extreme literary pretensions you must have to bleed out. Writing should have a pulse. It. Should. Make. Each. Word. Count. Yet, when this man told me that my words are good, but I should keep it shorter, knowing not if I could or would, I became curious as to why he worried more about length and not the content and story as a whole. Then I had to rationalize this to myself, and thought: It would be easier to convey words with images, like a film or animation. But I don't bleed ink, and I guess I don't bleed popcorn.
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21
With no argument I think most people agree With the adage stating that, "you are what you eat" But it's possible there's information not known Having equal importance or maybe more so All the nutrients eaten; We intake our food It will travel through digestive tract once consumed Same can also be said of our actions and thoughts They're the building blocks making up all that we are Brains are not like a rigid or fixed type machine An old dog and new tricks go together it seems Our plasticity will let us both change and shift It makes pathways; New neural links over the rifts These connections might possibly benefit us But this same mechanism can also do stuff With a negative scope, the outlook and belief We might think we're no good; Our lives filled with much grief If we're constantly saying things inside our heads Like self-doubting, self-loathing and feelings of dread Then our brain will re-wire to fit this outlook Once ensconced in this spectrum; Not easily shook The same way that a person engages with time Like activity, also is true with the mind A small change in the way that we look at ourselves The new thoughts and beliefs in our mind start to meld With the make-up within that each one of us holds Self-beliefs and self-doubts from our birth till we're old Like a painter with ink; Our brush never is dry We are always creating what's in our mind's eye So don't hinder yourself with a picture that's bleak Just believe in yourself and go get what you seek You are capable of so much more than you know All it takes is belief and in time it will show
0
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 1:27 AM UTC
Mind's Eye
With no argument I think most people agree With the adage stating that, "you are what you eat" But it's possible there's information not known Having equal importance or maybe more so All the nutrients eaten; We intake our food It will travel through digestive tract once consumed Same can also be said of our actions and thoughts They're the building blocks making up all that we are Brains are not like a rigid or fixed type machine An old dog and new tricks go together it seems Our plasticity will let us both change and shift It makes pathways; New neural links over the rifts These connections might possibly benefit us But this same mechanism can also do stuff With a negative scope, the outlook and belief We might think we're no good; Our lives filled with much grief If we're constantly saying things inside our heads Like self-doubting, self-loathing and feelings of dread Then our brain will re-wire to fit this outlook Once ensconced in this spectrum; Not easily shook The same way that a person engages with time Like activity, also is true with the mind A small change in the way that we look at ourselves The new thoughts and beliefs in our mind start to meld With the make-up within that each one of us holds Self-beliefs and self-doubts from our birth till we're old Like a painter with ink; Our brush never is dry We are always creating what's in our mind's eye So don't hinder yourself with a picture that's bleak Just believe in yourself and go get what you seek You are capable of so much more than you know All it takes is belief and in time it will show
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32
They say the ties that bind, wither towards the end Their witty mottos downplay the love of a friend “The blood of the covenant,” the adage remains still frozen, “Flows much thicker than the water of the womb.” And therefore they deduce: our loyalties reduce And family only matters when it is chosen. But the blood relations between man’s nations Groan under the strain of their bond For who would have thought that brothers were not By long and far man’s best creation.
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Oct 2, 2022
Oct 2, 2022 at 12:56 PM UTC
Blood & Water
Born under the guise Of endless possibilities Raised to believe the old adage 2b or not 2b Wherein the outcome of life Is limited only by the edge of infinity Truth is, there is only binary code Open or closed Black or white Do or do not One or zero To be or not to be
0
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC
1 to the nth
In this modern world of terrorism A world where gun law is king The old adage of love thy neighbour as thyself Rings true But only if he's stood in front of you And you have the biggest GUN
0
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 3:45 PM UTC
Love Thy Neighbour
Together we prosper Alone we survive Together we triumph Together we thrive So let’s work together Each day we’re alive And follow the adage Together we thrive Rejoice in the bounty That seems to arrive When we stand united Together we thrive Our planet we’ll care for Our soil we’ll revive Let’s focus our purpose Together we’ll thrive
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Nov 5, 2021
Nov 5, 2021 at 8:48 AM UTC
Together We Thrive (Prosperity Poem 135)
There's an adage my mother always say; "When one sees a snake and when one sees a man, it is the man they will **** For man is dangerous and we do not know the depth or heart of a man. Whatever men are eating now is all they know. They are always looking for somewhere peaceful to lay. Men are known to be Dogs but I refer them to be Monkeys. They JUMP from one tree to another ( laughing ) . What do they understand on the word, " LOVE "? But not everybody is as wicked. Wickedness is the reward of whom is wicked. There are still men in whom we can rely and trust in this world. We might not know how to locate them because we have no compass. When ones journey ended with a man; Love continues somewhere else. So please put your mind at rest and GOD will settle you at the right hour; that's our Compass..... Opemipo Oluwole aka Debola Oluyomi
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Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 7:00 PM UTC
Compass
the age old adage rings loud 1 tequila, 2 tequila, 3 tequila FLOOR! I look around and I see some simple ******** some lying in their own filth when will you learn it is sip not slam god forbid you order training wheels next one with lime and salt better be eating crisps not drinking bartender pour me the long glass let me savor a whiskey back i've got drinking to do tequila for me and everyone standing i plan on looking at my liver in the face tomorrow. bring me the bottles because if you didn't know joe crow and jameson are long lost cousins and play something loud lets see if this liquid gold makes them dance. :D
0
Mar 11, 2010
Mar 11, 2010 at 11:21 PM UTC
tequila nights and whiskey backs
Nice guys finish last An old adage I've been contemplating the meaning The feeling Has me reeling In laughter Despite my narcissism I am considered "nice" Because I care Do you dare? Ask me why its funny Why my sides are sore An adage I used to abhor An insult? No There is hidden meaning That'll have you screaming Even squealing With delight As my seams begin to burst I ask "hey ladies?" Do you really want a **** That "finishes" first?
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Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 7:53 AM UTC
Nice Guys Finish Last
Oily flowers Slap faces like an angel Simply twain, simpler powers Sit in the sun, like a smile for the devil Agony, of an oily smile Sit to once, upon nothing more... Hap and adage, require you, of a while Meaning no-where's step, for a curious war... Anything, everywhere at once... A promise to shed, a tear Through and through, before life begun The love and misery, is a magic, to fear? Sated...? And shown to chew the thought Is a mystery, of reality, so fated? When poor is such, aren't we a death sought? Oily more... We said the cope, of another world Suggesting only, the question's we were Given pride's notion, specialness's devotion; is a fears lover, ever early?
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Jan 29, 2023
Jan 29, 2023 at 6:38 AM UTC
What If A Bruised Ego, Is Dinner For Tonight?
There is an old adage - I'm sure you've heard it - that life without movement is death. today I feel the truth of it somewhere between my sternum and my spine as I sit here the parade of life rushing by in a distinct effort to leave me behind and all I can think all I can hear all I can know is "I am most certainly dying."
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Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 1:15 AM UTC
stagnation
racing through the night fast as light, toward the great unknown, the little acorn nut was reminded of the old adage, "hang on to your hat" and so she did. first stop was to the factory where well crafted & educated hands stroked her smooth grain & magnificent wood, so long hidden, standing so long un-admired. at last the day came, she was loaded upon the truck, so very carefully, gentle to not mar nor bump, as she was moved. reaching the city, all the brights lights, the city trees dotted the avenues and huge grand park, spurning the excited hi's of this little country bumpkin. but she would not dally, nor carry on, with the highend bookcases, chairs, tables and others, living floor after floor above the city. those in the penthouses holding the works and books, those rubbing shoulders   and bums, with the highfalutin literary few. the poets & artists & writers that deign to look down on poor you. every night, under the light, she laid there beaming, her beauty so deep for all to see, gleaming. no diva, nor screeching ingenue, puffed up egotisical  baffoon, or shrew, could bring her down. for she knew, that without her, there could be no show. for without her, in all her floor glory, there simply would be no stage! and the little acorn nut was glad!
0
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
Journey of the Little Acorn Nut
a soft grey blanket flows through the peaks of green pines silencing the celestial voice of the moon while steel horses restlessly paw, panting gas fumes the volleyball desert, at first glance barren reveals a complex terrain of mountains and cigarettes to the watchful eagle's eye a wooden temple towers, built on artificial ground cool stone poured into aesthetically pleasing islands a forty square foot-print a holy site of human ingenuity with offerings from the clans of Miller and Busch lying scattered like bones on the monolithic plain anbaric lamps imitating miniature stars cast shadows at night and the once vibrant world takes on unifying hues of blue I guess the old adage that "misery loves company" is indiscriminate of nature
0
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 5:10 AM UTC
what do i see?
A querulous cry from my peckish feline failed to rouse me from sleep: thus, teeth entangled in the meat of my palm, this hideous beast bucked conventional wisdom in deciding to bite a hand to prompt a feeding. Concurrently I am considering the adage of there being more than one way to skin a cat.
0
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 7:32 PM UTC
Impulsive
It’s a simple rule: Why things don’t go as they should. The bad drives out the good. The internet, cities or democracy-- everything becomes dominated by the dumb, the vile and the lazy. Instead of community, the web is **** and hate. Time can’t run backward; there’s no recourse, It’s too late. The bad apples poisoned the tree. You, out there, ruined it all for me. Democracy has become mob rule, and the mob prefers a tyrant, a demagogue, a fool. City Hall is occupied by panderers and jerks. Public office for them is just a way to get some perks. A crass madman on Pennsylvania Avenue doesn’t represent me–but maybe you. That’s what the mob wants–someone just like them. And when it leads to disorder, collapse, mayhem, they invent a paranoid conspiracy theory. But it’s not complicated. We made insanity easy, and free. Now we have the rule of the dumb, the vile and the lazy. And we call it democracy. People aren’t equal. We all forgot this truth. We let the mob take over. I guess we needed proof. Proof that the old adage is as true as ever. Have they ruined everything good forever?
0
Mar 12, 2025
Mar 12, 2025 at 12:41 AM UTC
How I Became an Elitist
Love is a word A single distinct element of emotional expression Love is an idiom Transcending the understanding of even the average minded Love is a figure of speech As portrayed in the rhetoric and vivid effect it has on unsuspecting victims Love is an adage The elders tell it better than it actually looks Love can be any of the above All of the above Or just more.
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Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 12:08 PM UTC
Love and the English Language
pasty white ghosts haunt the corpse blue cornfields of Iowa whispering wisps of smoke shimmering shadows of the past setting the pace for the rat race that is the 2016 U.S. Presidential Election senators billionaires doctors frauds liars fools campaigning for selection in an archaic and outdated form of governance witness the spectacle the orgastic worship of solipsistic oligarchs bloated by their own sycophantic rhetoric it's just another form of all-American entertainment each orator's charismatic adage froths forth from a throat like a grave pragmatism throttles hope as we stoke the fires of self-indulgence and neglect the fact that we acquiesced as another deceiver stole votes we're choking on placebo pills every ballot cast is another act of apathy escapism pleading vainly for a savior to rescue our sick society but these hands didn't evolve so we could collect a representative to lead us blindly into one fiasco after another these fingers penned   humanity's symphonies and these calloused palms have toiled for years under an apathetic sun we learned to make love using our fingertips and with these fists we could chart a new path but only if we raise them in defiance our only chance is leaderless resistance
0
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 12:05 AM UTC
caucus
It's so terribly astonishing How your every inch remains to me (or at least the "you" you used to be), When the more obvious idiosyncrasies Of lovers lost more recently Were forgotten almost immediately... I can't recall my last love's fingers, But yours? A perfect image. I can't recall my last love's kiss, Although yours was more timid. I can't relive my last love's sighs, But yours, still, how they sear! An ever-widening distance between us lies, Yet somehow you still feel near. Is that distance, always our curséd blessing, Why I still find myself my love confessing? Or is there truth in the adage that made us wander- Absence truly makes the heart grow fonder? I'll seek not, nor deliver, an apology, But how did you ever become so much a part of me?
0
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 4:22 PM UTC
joshua
Due, the times Arrival of a concerted friend At the designated since, the basis of every crime To be, a whole salvation of what ends Keep, the times Rue and divulgence to a rapid and just Merit, the coping suggestion of what ides Were, the note of atonement in fair, if not ought's must Solemn, the times Strange horizon's with a calling Ably, the needs of another, shied And true, sigh of curiosity, that has seen falling Adage, the times Sworn to better kind Turns of repose, have the sense to shine Well and could, the very order of what mind Secret, the times May to fore, the airing, a league with might To know a callous sorts of claim, the history of why We are that we are, the other side of what mercy might Stars, the time Worth neither whether willing nor would Comparison needs the let, the better in a wishful lime Tow and certainty to hold, a portrayal of hosts who could...
0
Mar 8, 2023
Mar 8, 2023 at 12:27 PM UTC
The Opinion Of Many Before Time; However