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"braver" poems
I am a warrior. Stronger than her demons. Braver than the darkness.
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Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC
Warrior
Be kind to yourself. You have come so far. Each emotion you feel tattooed to your skin the seasons wash away like chalk. Be kind to yourself. You are braver than you thought. No longer scared of what lies beneath your bed but what awaits when you wake up. Be kind to yourself. You are worthy of love. Only you give permission for forked tongues to leave passing words as lasting scars. Only you can adopt old failures and stack them as obstacles upon each new path. You cannot dictate what will be only – who you are. Be kind to yourself. You are doing enough. You cannot always be switched on. Sometimes you have to lay down and breathe – it is not greed. If you are always exhausted you cannot help anybody. Be kind to yourself. You did not grow from a single cell born from a dying star in order to feel so small. You did not close the door on friends when you expected more from them. Why beat yourself up for who you were before? Be kind to yourself. A faltering dancer who gets up again and again draws the loudest applause at the curtain call. A person who spent half their life at war with themselves knows the value of peace, the feat of getting out the house; the measure of good mental health. Be kind to yourself. You have come so far. They say ten thousand hours is the time it takes to master an art. You spent so much longer than that learning the patterns of your heart. You can pull at those common threads that keep you together even when you are falling apart. Be kind to yourself. You are stronger than you thought. Like Leonard says, “there’s a crack of light in everything. “ You do not have to be perfect. You do not have to live in the dark. Be kind to yourself. Make sure you get to the end. Do not worry how you stumbled at the start.
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Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 4:14 PM UTC
Be Kind To Yourself
Be kind to yourself. You have come so far. Each emotion you feel tattooed to your skin the seasons wash away like chalk. Be kind to yourself. You are braver than you thought. No longer scared of what lies beneath your bed but what awaits when you wake up. Be kind to yourself. You are worthy of love. Only you give permission for forked tongues to leave passing words as lasting scars. Only you can adopt old failures and stack them as obstacles upon each new path. You cannot dictate what will be only – who you are. Be kind to yourself. You are doing enough. You cannot always be switched on. Sometimes you have to lay down and breathe – it is not greed. If you are always exhausted you cannot help anybody. Be kind to yourself. You did not grow from a single cell born from a dying star in order to feel so small. You did not close the door on friends when you expected more from them. Why beat yourself up for who you were before? Be kind to yourself. A faltering dancer who gets up again and again draws the loudest applause at the curtain call. A person who spent half their life at war with themselves knows the value of peace, the feat of getting out the house; the measure of good mental health. Be kind to yourself. You have come so far. They say ten thousand hours is the time it takes to master an art. You spent so much longer than that learning the patterns of your heart. You can pull at those common threads that keep you together even when you are falling apart. Be kind to yourself. You are stronger than you thought. Like Leonard says, “there’s a crack of light in everything. “ You do not have to be perfect. You do not have to live in the dark. Be kind to yourself. Make sure you get to the end. Do not worry how you stumbled at the start.
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68
are hands and knees that hit the floor and crawl back towards what i’d sworn off before weak, or brave is it braver to run in the opposite direction or to stay even when it stings because when we’re in your car i know what the crickets outside are thinking, is it true am i throwing white sheets over old reminders written in dust, small whispers leading up to an attic where all the hurt and confusion is stored in cardboard boxes labelled DO NOT OPEN right now i’m sitting on the stairs with my back against the door and i’m looking at your face, your face, your face searching for something maybe i didn’t see before and the words you wrote at two in the dark made me miss you when i promised i didn’t, and i want to stay, but when i try to convince myself that you’re right, that pushing you away is the easy way out, that what we feel is a reason to keep each other around, i still find it hard to believe myself when i tell myself that i am being strong
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Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
you again
Seagulls squeak and As thunderclaps salute the laws of physics I imagine they could speak Sensory inputs of fresh strawberries become A raging flood of summer sweetness that Fuses with the hot electrified air And I'm daydreaming that Above this veil of angry clouds Roams unseen ancient eyes With tears braver than What is boundless Stronger and brighter than even Endless darkness They lie in wait Their love Their warmth Bursting forth Wombs of rainbows And all that is precious Yet still untold Waiting to kiss the atoms of your skin And once again Paint your summer smile Blink and you might forget that They were you Before you were even born Sunset Sunrise Watch them never skip a beat Wake up. Kick *** Repeat.
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Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 2:42 PM UTC
Hey sun, I like your attitude
move on is not easy but trust me you can go through it because everything happens for a reason a reason to make you braver to see the future.
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Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 12:13 PM UTC
Fight.
And life came in, crowned in blood, kissed and messed, announcing itself with a cry.   A girl-child, missing piece, fitted to my breast her weight absorbed with my heart's sigh She was fear personified, so heavenly blessed, she made my terrified simpers her lullaby. I felt my heart's core swell to absorb her scent, and my eyes overflowed with love's cascading cry. She cast light into my darkened chaotic hurt - sparked a desire to wake, to live, to try, clasping her whole fist around my ring finger, holding me still; the whole world passing by. And in her absence she left her shadow nestled in my chest. And in my absence I hid my kisses in her sigh. She grew with eyes of blue and a sympathetic smile - all faerie dust on the wing of a butterfly, an almost echo of a girl I once knew. Except she didn't know that kind of cry, wouldn't know anything less than rainbows, than Christmas mornings and endless blue skies. We tripped, clicked heels through the passing years, from little girl to little woman in the blink of an eye, till we were both wearing her shoes instead of mine. And like Alice, she snapped from low to high she grew - time sculpting curvy definitions of who I hope and fear she will be. She is golden curls and girlish giggles ever wondering the where or the why ever seeking to help, to heal, to try to pour her heart into an undeserving world. She has legs she claims to stand her ground to be, to free, to hold her own. And though like me, she is not me, since she is so much braver than I. Her finger is wrapped around her innocence holding strong to consent or deny. This life will make her cry her tears and this world will realise her fears but she will ever have the wings to fly and I will ever ready to sing her our lullaby.
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Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 3:37 PM UTC
Beck Bees
And life came in, crowned in blood, kissed and messed, announcing itself with a cry.   A girl-child, missing piece, fitted to my breast her weight absorbed with my heart's sigh She was fear personified, so heavenly blessed, she made my terrified simpers her lullaby. I felt my heart's core swell to absorb her scent, and my eyes overflowed with love's cascading cry. She cast light into my darkened chaotic hurt - sparked a desire to wake, to live, to try, clasping her whole fist around my ring finger, holding me still; the whole world passing by. And in her absence she left her shadow nestled in my chest. And in my absence I hid my kisses in her sigh. She grew with eyes of blue and a sympathetic smile - all faerie dust on the wing of a butterfly, an almost echo of a girl I once knew. Except she didn't know that kind of cry, wouldn't know anything less than rainbows, than Christmas mornings and endless blue skies. We tripped, clicked heels through the passing years, from little girl to little woman in the blink of an eye, till we were both wearing her shoes instead of mine. And like Alice, she snapped from low to high she grew - time sculpting curvy definitions of who I hope and fear she will be. She is golden curls and girlish giggles ever wondering the where or the why ever seeking to help, to heal, to try to pour her heart into an undeserving world. She has legs she claims to stand her ground to be, to free, to hold her own. And though like me, she is not me, since she is so much braver than I. Her finger is wrapped around her innocence holding strong to consent or deny. This life will make her cry her tears and this world will realise her fears but she will ever have the wings to fly and I will ever ready to sing her our lullaby.
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40
What is a Father? Is he a Person? A Thing? Or a Feather? What is his Life? Is it Carefree and Spontaneous Or Tormenting and Strife? Who is he in which a Person could know? What are his Abilities which only he could show? Does he Work, for the sake of a Family? Or sleeps and pigs around, being a Menace and Lazy? Who could this man be, to the Eyes of Children, A Hard Rock or a Soft Leaven? Does he Pile over Everyone And takes Control? Is he the Eagle, the Head of the Nest, Playing a very important Role? Does he impersonate Father Christmas With all his Treats and Gifts? Is he a Lover, with a Strong Heart for ******* Hugging greatly and giving Love-Lifts? Does he Pray, Or Face-Religious? Or a Braver, Or Spontaneous? Is he a Disciplinarian Wherewithin all Members under him Are tuned to his Command? Or a Freester, Who gives his Kids their darling Freedom Without any Demand? Does he care, For the People and Loved Ones around him? Is he Provocative, Uncaring for Anyone behind his Dim? Mostly, he is the Grass, Herding the Future for his Offspring? Or the Lamb, Stubborn and very Unwilling? And so, whatever he is, Or does, A Father is a Father, Anonymous or Specific I wouldn't mind. Just as long as he has HEART, STRENGTH, FREEDOM and PROSPERITY, KINDNESS, BRAVE, PROTECTIVE And RELIABILITY. I'll be Glad and Content. As any Son should be.
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Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC
THE FATHER
The stigma that sensitive people are weak needs to diminish. Just because she feels things down to her bones does not mean she is weak. She carries everything. Her feelings, other people’s feelings, the world around her as she takes it all in. * * * Sensitivity is deemed feeble. Thick-skinned people are the brave ones, right? They have endured so much that they no longer feel anything. Snide remarks, rude comments, and stressful situations roll off their skin like water during a storm. If it’s already pouring, why worry about each droplet? * * * That is the problem, she thought to herself. Are brave people truly brave? No. Brave people are the true cowards. Rather than taking their experiences and feeling them, letting them seep into their bones to become the marrow which fuels their bodies, they shut them away; skeletons in a closet. They have become numb to the baggage they carry at the expense of growing numb to everything else. * * * People around her are merely living in this world, she decided, whereas she was absorbing it. In the spring she lays in the grass, running her fingers through each blade as if it were the Earth’s hair. When summer nights bring a light breeze, she imagines spirits are hugging her. In the fall when it rains, she spreads her arms wide and gazes up to the sky, knowing that each water droplet that falls is Mother Nature peppering her skin with kisses. * * * Others are too preoccupied making sure their skeletons do not peer out of the closet. Strength, after all, is the ability to withstand vast amounts of pressure and God knows how much force those skeletons must bear. * * * In the middle of the night, her father hears her talking to someone, except there is no response. It is as if she is conversing with herself when in actuality, she is conversing with her skeletons. After midnight when others have drifted off to sleep, hoping that their skeletons do not come to haunt them, she is wide awake, her closet door open. She lays in bed and asks her anxiety how it’s day was, laughs at a witty comment that her depression has made about her life, and gives thanks to the insult a bully gave her in the first grade for making her the person she is today. The things that should weigh her down, she has befriended. They come to visit so often, anyways. * * * She wonders how someone who has mastered the art of suppressing their feelings is braver than someone who has mastered the art of acknowledging their feelings. The strength it takes to keep the closet door shut is immense. However, it takes an unsurpassable amount of resilience to carry the world in her heart and soul while still having the courage to open her closet without being afraid of the things that could jump out at her.
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Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 3:49 PM UTC
The True Strength of Weakness
The stigma that sensitive people are weak needs to diminish. Just because she feels things down to her bones does not mean she is weak. She carries everything. Her feelings, other people’s feelings, the world around her as she takes it all in. * * * Sensitivity is deemed feeble. Thick-skinned people are the brave ones, right? They have endured so much that they no longer feel anything. Snide remarks, rude comments, and stressful situations roll off their skin like water during a storm. If it’s already pouring, why worry about each droplet? * * * That is the problem, she thought to herself. Are brave people truly brave? No. Brave people are the true cowards. Rather than taking their experiences and feeling them, letting them seep into their bones to become the marrow which fuels their bodies, they shut them away; skeletons in a closet. They have become numb to the baggage they carry at the expense of growing numb to everything else. * * * People around her are merely living in this world, she decided, whereas she was absorbing it. In the spring she lays in the grass, running her fingers through each blade as if it were the Earth’s hair. When summer nights bring a light breeze, she imagines spirits are hugging her. In the fall when it rains, she spreads her arms wide and gazes up to the sky, knowing that each water droplet that falls is Mother Nature peppering her skin with kisses. * * * Others are too preoccupied making sure their skeletons do not peer out of the closet. Strength, after all, is the ability to withstand vast amounts of pressure and God knows how much force those skeletons must bear. * * * In the middle of the night, her father hears her talking to someone, except there is no response. It is as if she is conversing with herself when in actuality, she is conversing with her skeletons. After midnight when others have drifted off to sleep, hoping that their skeletons do not come to haunt them, she is wide awake, her closet door open. She lays in bed and asks her anxiety how it’s day was, laughs at a witty comment that her depression has made about her life, and gives thanks to the insult a bully gave her in the first grade for making her the person she is today. The things that should weigh her down, she has befriended. They come to visit so often, anyways. * * * She wonders how someone who has mastered the art of suppressing their feelings is braver than someone who has mastered the art of acknowledging their feelings. The strength it takes to keep the closet door shut is immense. However, it takes an unsurpassable amount of resilience to carry the world in her heart and soul while still having the courage to open her closet without being afraid of the things that could jump out at her.
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28
How are you? I'm alright I guess... Where do we begin? Maybe at the start of this mess. Are you uncomfortable? I can't say that I'm not. Is it your past? Well it's all I've got. Do you still get nightmares? Well I used to... Will you let them show? Depends on you... What do you hope to accomplish? I don't know... Peace of mind? Would you have done things differently? Everyone wants the chance to push "rewind". Care to elaborate? Let's just say I would've liked to be braver. What do you mean? I should've stood up to my father... Did he abuse your trust? He did more than just that... Rob you of your freedom? Let's see... His belt, cigarettes and also boiling water out of a vat. Do you wish him ill? I wished him dead. "Wished"? Yeah...in his bed. Why "wished"? Because I wanted that then... For how long? Since I was ten. What about now? (Maniacal smile) I am now... At peace. "At peace"? I have found release. You have? Yes... I couldn't resist the urge. Urge to do what? To comply with the voice... "Freedom...lies in the purge..." You left your father? Yes but not before... Go on... Not before I slit his throat with a smile on my face as I shut the door...
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Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 7:51 AM UTC
Interview
I just hate this, I don’t hate you until we kiss I’ll escape you oh where’s the twist, I’m enraged, who’s the god of fate to complain to do you love me like I love you? but I always know when a love’s true see fire, into it I tune chemistry shatters the whole room sent me an angel too early you are too pretty and pearly and you could heal me or hurt me I’m bad and broken, you’re holy too much unspoken, you don’t see below the surface I’m hurting I dream of barriers burning you pull me back as I’m turning run with me, keep this a secret make up for a life filled with regret exiled societal rejects star crossed love lost, now we reflect I severed ties, sent a letter the final feeling, forget her bore the burden, barely better she’d lose her life, they won’t let her the fantasy failed to survive it was as though she had just died our dangerous dance was denied fell into smoking, drugs and wine so hollow without the saviour forced to get stronger and braver seek solitude that I favour give myself the love I gave her can’t give the choice to the chosen goodbye, our meaningful moments in november were the omens in winter forever frozen
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Jul 27, 2021
Jul 27, 2021 at 8:39 AM UTC
the twist
good morning, my angel my living lullaby i glide across the fairest skin, you are the fairest one of all. Good morning, my mother my broken candle you gave me the wax that has melted on many tablecloths i feel I have lost you now, as I had lost you then. Good morning, my first love my little bridge your mittens were warm when I needed heat when I was so cold the tears froze onto my cheeks. you ran me a bath a being of divinity we held each other in your father’s tub and laughed at the bubbling abundance, burgeoning in overflow. I wake to the puddle of your memory That has grown since we last met, since I have wept For the love I have not kept in place. Good morning hindered lover, who worships me in forbidden light a thousand songs have yet transpired born from a single thought of you. Inhibited inspiration, camouflage constellation, I kiss you now though I will always be Years away from where you lie. Good morning dear father, a forester Braver than the lone wolf and his solitary howl. The lesson of the arthritic toe shows you True appreciation for the pain of existence. You are the most loyal flame, my gratitude is overwhelming Each time I embrace the past and the mistakes, unconscious From the broken record And its echo off the wall. Good mourning to the loss of a lover, an ephemeral flame. Good mourning to the death of a friendship, to the longing for a **** Good mourning to the future in its casket, That awaits a new life for me In song.
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Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 8:59 PM UTC
Good Mourning
The impoverished wasteland That keeps you from changing the world Will never be your home Not if I'm here You don't know how much people will try To drive you away To keep you ''where you belong'' A waiting place The place I so desperately fear Not for me; I'm not one of ''them'' But you are; according to the authorities I can hide: we don't have race wars here But how can you avoid it if the government perpetuates it? I nearly shed a lone tear The Canadian Ghetto It's where you're destined to stay If they, we, I let you fall If the people convince you you're inferior But you have nothing to fear. I'll won't stop making you                                                 Braver                                                  Smarter                                                    Stronger                                                      Aware And when all is said and done And they've taken your ability to give a **** You still won't surrender And I'll shed a joyous tear.
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Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 10:38 PM UTC
The Canadian Ghetto
A great man gave this to me advice from the lips of a father like a father but not my father but like him if he were a self-made millionaire with advice to give that this self-made business owner ought to pay some heed to and so it went, "By yourself, darkness can overcome you. You can't do it all alone. But we're here with you, all of us, that's what we do. If you don't succeed we didn't succeed in teaching you." So like a parent concerned with the fate of a child telling us to be stronger than we feel braver than we have known and to follow that great gleaming WHY the WHY we do what we do the WHY we are in this room with a new father teaching us all the principles To every day improve to control our emotions to live in peace that we are all accepted for who we are and that we are complete within ourselves that we must all serve others before we can succeed ourselves to never let fear in and know we are truly blessed and above all that integrity means more than all the affirmations in the world.
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May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 10:05 AM UTC
Affirmations
i would sit in that chair again tell you all the things playing inside my mind the doubts, worries and most of all the premonition that it was going to be the last time we'd ever talk face to face... if i go back to december... i would take each day in a slow-mo hold your hand a little longer, tell you more about my feelings, and most of all realize it was already my last chance to let you know, face to face if i go back to december... i would ask you to be brave to not worry about letting me down easy tell you the best way is to be real, and most of all convince you it was better to take the last straw than drag it and hide from each other's face if i go back to december... i won't give room to hope or bet the distance won't change anything won't even try to save what was already slipping away coz deep down i knew, we won't be there to close this chapter face to face if i go back to december... i would be braver and stronger to tell you my goodbye and not worry won't hesitate to let go of your arms and most of all, won't linger on that embrace though it was the last one... coz now i know, the whole thing wasn't worth any of my time Beyond that one december...
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Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 1:09 PM UTC
If I go back to December
*Onward, soldier. Onward.* That’s what they all tell me, but let me slow down for a moment. There’s a little something I gotta say, Thank you. To that swing set in Greenhills Music Studio San Juan City, without you, I’d never have learned that sometimes it’s the other way around— feet in the sky and head on the ground. Mrs. Arambulo, the swing set’s owner, who made sure I was well versed in sonatinas and arpeggio scales before I found out they’d already made a piano that didn’t need tuning, and Ma, who’d test my memory by asking me if I could recite whole paragraphs at age four, she’s why I remember things like the smell of pilmeni, the color of our first house’s carpet, and nine page spoken word poetry, to everyone behind that old kids’ show, Bayani, watching it in my second grade HEKASI class would bring me to tears each time — no kidding, you all paved the way for my homeland’s history to make its home in my heart, my English teachers from sixth all the way to eleventh grade, who all believed and still believe in the words I put down on paper and spew out on dark stages armed with imagery and the Spirit, you made me fall deeper in love with the way words can be waves or flames, Dad, who taught me to climb mountains, to read books, to let myself run free among the nations but to always remember to leave a part of my heart at home, to the four little boys I met in Hong Kong, if we meet again, I owe you a better explanation to your question, “Why do you dance?” thank you for asking me that, and I’m sorry for my cowardly answer back then but I’m braver now, and I promise it’s for more than just fun or exercise, it’s for this God I hope you get to know, and to every Philippine history teacher I’ve ever had, keep teaching like that, we need more young ones who’d be willing to die for their homeland, you taught me that there is so much more to this country than its own people tell me, so burn on. and make sure they catch fire. *Onward, soldier. Onward.* I’m not sure where I’m headed, but I’d rather be uncertain of the road ahead than forget where I started. I’ve told you mine, now tell them yours.
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Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
I'll Tell You Mine
*Onward, soldier. Onward.* That’s what they all tell me, but let me slow down for a moment. There’s a little something I gotta say, Thank you. To that swing set in Greenhills Music Studio San Juan City, without you, I’d never have learned that sometimes it’s the other way around— feet in the sky and head on the ground. Mrs. Arambulo, the swing set’s owner, who made sure I was well versed in sonatinas and arpeggio scales before I found out they’d already made a piano that didn’t need tuning, and Ma, who’d test my memory by asking me if I could recite whole paragraphs at age four, she’s why I remember things like the smell of pilmeni, the color of our first house’s carpet, and nine page spoken word poetry, to everyone behind that old kids’ show, Bayani, watching it in my second grade HEKASI class would bring me to tears each time — no kidding, you all paved the way for my homeland’s history to make its home in my heart, my English teachers from sixth all the way to eleventh grade, who all believed and still believe in the words I put down on paper and spew out on dark stages armed with imagery and the Spirit, you made me fall deeper in love with the way words can be waves or flames, Dad, who taught me to climb mountains, to read books, to let myself run free among the nations but to always remember to leave a part of my heart at home, to the four little boys I met in Hong Kong, if we meet again, I owe you a better explanation to your question, “Why do you dance?” thank you for asking me that, and I’m sorry for my cowardly answer back then but I’m braver now, and I promise it’s for more than just fun or exercise, it’s for this God I hope you get to know, and to every Philippine history teacher I’ve ever had, keep teaching like that, we need more young ones who’d be willing to die for their homeland, you taught me that there is so much more to this country than its own people tell me, so burn on. and make sure they catch fire. *Onward, soldier. Onward.* I’m not sure where I’m headed, but I’d rather be uncertain of the road ahead than forget where I started. I’ve told you mine, now tell them yours.
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68
The Sun at noon to higher air, Unharnessing the silver Pair That late before his chariot swam, Rides on the gold wool of the Ram. So braver notes the storm-cock sings To start the rusted wheel of things, And brutes in field and brutes in pen Leap that the world goes round again. The boys are up the woods with day To fetch the daffodils away, And home at noonday from the hills They bring no dearth of daffodils. Afield for palms the girls repair, And sure enough the palms are there, And each will find by hedge or pond Her waving silver-tufted wand. In farm and field through all the shire The eye beholds the heart's desire; Ah, let not only mine be vain, For lovers should be loved again.
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4.2k
March
This morning I rose before the sun,  Stretched slowly and yawned wide, Then drove to the skate park, knowing it would be empty this early.  I skated, really skated,  braver away from others' eyes.  Others trickled in over the hours.  Sitting, resting on the bleachers A question from another, "why is no one skating?" I, confused, reply incredulously "Why are YOU not skating?" His explanation saddens me.  He doesn't skate,  is twenty years old, and so feels it's too late.  I'm 26, I tell him, I just started and I'm terrible.  It's true.  I'm unsure of myself and my form        is    off but I'm trying.  We have this one life, one chance.  Why would you not try for something  you've always wanted to do or something you love? You don't have to be good, but ****  you do have to try.
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Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
Effort
The Lion and the Warthog A lion fierce, and proud, and cruel Once led the largest pride. They hunted well, starvation scarce, The fear spread far and wide. A warthog aged with years and fears, Knew something must be done. This hunter, killer, must be stopped, So a clever plan he spun. The warthog saw the lion pride Hunting flocks of sheep. "I bet you can't cross River Wide With just one solid leap." The lion swelled with pride and roared, "You speak a foolish lie!" He'd never done it once before, But he'd been challenged; he must try. Said warthog, "If you cross it now, I'll let you eat me whole. But if I cross without a scratch, Here you'll hunt no other soul." The lion leaped for River Wide, And splashed into the waves. He climbed back up and dried himself, His pride, he could not save. The warthog's turn had come at last; He pushed a broken tree. It fell across the River Wide, He walked across with glee. "There, you see, you'll hunt no more; Your pride has you in bind. It's brave to leap the River Wide, But braver yet to use your mind."
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Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 4:13 PM UTC
Lion and Warthog
I sit I eat i drink i sleep i learn i love i hate i read i write i am strong i am brave i am who im meant to be i am human i am stronger than you know i am braver than you know i am more human than you know i am less weak than you
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Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 8:38 PM UTC
Human
A tangled web weaved intricately designed, by patient time. Three unfortunate victims of untold lies Glances misinterpreted, signs and all now cease. The truth will set them all free … She thought his eyes only held hers that way It will set you free they say The signs were all there… promising Braver he got… more confident he thought “Hey I like you” found its’ way out one afternoon Everything seemed to be right she thought …. Truth is those words were not meant for her ears. They fell on the ears of a close friend. A friend who doesn't see those brown eyes the way she does. Tangled and weaved the web becomes once again…
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Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 11:41 PM UTC
Complicated
I. I would not if I could undo my past, Tho' for its sake my future is a blank; My past for which I have myself to thank, For all its faults and follies first and last. I would not cast anew the lot once cast, Or launch a second ship for one that sank, Or drug with sweets the bitterness I drank, Or break by feasting my perpetual fast. I would not if I could: for much more dear Is one remembrance than a hundred joys, More than a thousand hopes in jubilee; Dearer the music of one tearful voice That unforgotten calls and calls to me, "Follow me here, rise up, and follow here." II. What seekest thou, far in the unknown land? In hope I follow joy gone on before; In hope and fear persistent more and more, As the dry desert lengthens out its sand. Whilst day and night I carry in my hand The golden key to ope the golden door Of golden home; yet mine eye weepeth sore, For long the journey is that makes no stand. And who is this that veiled doth walk with thee? Lo, this is Love that walketh at my right; One exile holds us both, and we are bound To selfsame home-joys in the land of light. Weeping thou walkest with him; weepeth he?-- Some sobbing weep, some weep and make no sound. III. A dimness of a glory glimmers here Thro' veils and distance from the space remote, A faintest far vibration of a note Reaches to us and seems to bring us near; Causing our face to glow with braver cheer, Making the serried mist to stand afloat, Subduing languor with an antidote, And strengthening love almost to cast out fear: Till for one moment golden city walls Rise looming on us, golden walls of home, Light of our eyes until the darkness falls; Then thro' the outer darkness burdensome I hear again the tender voice that calls, "Follow me hither, follow, rise, and come."
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They Desire A Better Country
I. I would not if I could undo my past, Tho' for its sake my future is a blank; My past for which I have myself to thank, For all its faults and follies first and last. I would not cast anew the lot once cast, Or launch a second ship for one that sank, Or drug with sweets the bitterness I drank, Or break by feasting my perpetual fast. I would not if I could: for much more dear Is one remembrance than a hundred joys, More than a thousand hopes in jubilee; Dearer the music of one tearful voice That unforgotten calls and calls to me, "Follow me here, rise up, and follow here." II. What seekest thou, far in the unknown land? In hope I follow joy gone on before; In hope and fear persistent more and more, As the dry desert lengthens out its sand. Whilst day and night I carry in my hand The golden key to ope the golden door Of golden home; yet mine eye weepeth sore, For long the journey is that makes no stand. And who is this that veiled doth walk with thee? Lo, this is Love that walketh at my right; One exile holds us both, and we are bound To selfsame home-joys in the land of light. Weeping thou walkest with him; weepeth he?-- Some sobbing weep, some weep and make no sound. III. A dimness of a glory glimmers here Thro' veils and distance from the space remote, A faintest far vibration of a note Reaches to us and seems to bring us near; Causing our face to glow with braver cheer, Making the serried mist to stand afloat, Subduing languor with an antidote, And strengthening love almost to cast out fear: Till for one moment golden city walls Rise looming on us, golden walls of home, Light of our eyes until the darkness falls; Then thro' the outer darkness burdensome I hear again the tender voice that calls, "Follow me hither, follow, rise, and come."
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Oi Modi you ****** yes Lalit, Unpleasant to taste on my pallet.  Arrogant and so brash.   You make threats with your cash, Your face should say 'Hi' to my mallet! But Modi is right I must say. The IPL in India should stay. They cannot just give in  To all terrorist's whim. Life has to go on, come what may. Lalit K has a tongue and a brain, Can he use both without causing such pain? He works best under stress,  Well here is a fine mess, Will he anger again, or refrain? Tendulkar did something today. Two hundred runs all in one day!   Majestic and cunning.   It simply was stunning. No bowler could stand in his way. How Sachin keeps on being humble, Is enough to make braver men crumble,   If Modi learned that,   He'd be less of a pratt, And my poetry jibes would then stumble. These two things that happened together, Were both better than English weather,   In the passing of time   One event will decline, The other, remembered forever.
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Feb 24, 2010
Feb 24, 2010 at 11:05 PM UTC
Sachin Tendulkar vs Lalit Modi
Everyday i died. Everyday i doubted Everyday i felt insane Everyday i lived in fear Everyday i hated myself Everyday i didnt eat... sometimes. Everyday i bent to your will Everyday i suffered in silence Everyday i hated you Everyday i couldnt take it Everyday i thought of running Everyday i dreamed of what it could be like Everyday i lost my trust in everyone Everyday no one could understand Everyday i lost myself Everyday i crumbled Everyday i felt ashamed Everyday i couldnt recognize myself anymore BUT NOW... Everyday i get a little stronger, Everyday i get a little braver, Everyday i hurt a little less, Everyday i feel a bit more free, Everyday i trust a bit more, Everyday i feel a little wiser, Everyday you control me less and less, Everyday im a little happier, Everyday i find myself Everyday i feel proud Everyday i follow my heart Everyday i find a bit more of myself Everyday i put back pieces you stole Everyday i heal... Everyday i grow... Everyday i am reborn... Everyday i am more me than i was before Everyday i am thankful for what ive survived Everyday i am alive... Everyday i am living in spite of you.
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Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 12:31 PM UTC
Everyday...
Brick by brick I'm building a new foundation In weakness and strength I hide in fear of some of God's creation but there are just somethings That need to be admired The tree's, The rivers and open oceans The mountains that stand tall over us But most of all I admire you I'm hanging on every word you say (ooh) Speechless Hopelessly lost within your words (So) breathless I can't even say a word She's everything a man dreams of Her voice is sweet, honest and true Oh, girl, I'm amazed by you Struck with a new sensation Brick by brick I'm completing a new foundation I'm starting to learn She can be my medication She makes everything better With her dedication Her kiss, Kiss Has got me (Blushing) It starts my blood (rushing) Her sweet, Sweet taste Has created a new flavour She's making me feel A little bit braver I can try, But I know I can't win She already has my heart Caught in a string I'm hanging on every word you say (ooh) Speechless Hopelessly lost within your words (So) breathless I can't even say a word She's everything a man dreams of Her voice is sweet, honest and true Oh, girl, I'm amazed by you If I could give you the stars (I would) It's heaven on earth When I'm with you I feel there's nothing that I can not do. You're so amazing, girl. I can feel my heart racing, the fires of love are blazing She's a princess that leaves me speechless Caught up And hung up on you I'm trapped, in a web, I can't break loose I'm hanging on every word you say (ooh) Speechless Hopelessly lost within your words (So) breathless I can't even say a word She's everything a man dreams of Her voice is sweet, honest and true Oh, girl, I'm amazed by you ©2017 Written By Benji James
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May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017 at 10:41 PM UTC
Speechless
Brick by brick I'm building a new foundation In weakness and strength I hide in fear of some of God's creation but there are just somethings That need to be admired The tree's, The rivers and open oceans The mountains that stand tall over us But most of all I admire you I'm hanging on every word you say (ooh) Speechless Hopelessly lost within your words (So) breathless I can't even say a word She's everything a man dreams of Her voice is sweet, honest and true Oh, girl, I'm amazed by you Struck with a new sensation Brick by brick I'm completing a new foundation I'm starting to learn She can be my medication She makes everything better With her dedication Her kiss, Kiss Has got me (Blushing) It starts my blood (rushing) Her sweet, Sweet taste Has created a new flavour She's making me feel A little bit braver I can try, But I know I can't win She already has my heart Caught in a string I'm hanging on every word you say (ooh) Speechless Hopelessly lost within your words (So) breathless I can't even say a word She's everything a man dreams of Her voice is sweet, honest and true Oh, girl, I'm amazed by you If I could give you the stars (I would) It's heaven on earth When I'm with you I feel there's nothing that I can not do. You're so amazing, girl. I can feel my heart racing, the fires of love are blazing She's a princess that leaves me speechless Caught up And hung up on you I'm trapped, in a web, I can't break loose I'm hanging on every word you say (ooh) Speechless Hopelessly lost within your words (So) breathless I can't even say a word She's everything a man dreams of Her voice is sweet, honest and true Oh, girl, I'm amazed by you ©2017 Written By Benji James
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