"colombo" poems
Aksis (Greek: ἁψίς; majority apsides, Greek: Enhancements, Improvements) is the highest point in the course [orbit] of one thing. 10000.001 1000 hours on the moon and the moon [2] ... 34C Horse and P4 / 4 (see Cicero / PH3 screen) 4P * 1000-1010 = 3-2 George. ... (July 73) Jul 42 in Italy, Poland, Picture of Hiroshima P2 Columbus, Georgia, Europe, Columbia 100 MTN Toonberg [People] About 1683 - P ***** 4/4, Chen Xin Shibiru. Cicero / P / [2] ... 1000 to 10,000,000. The King's King after many high speeds of 3-4p of Master Cranial Winter of Hiroshima HD HD-DA ... Mother's Scandic Faced Keira is a poor and unhealthy injury.) I've got a headline. Taurus is in charge of the drivers, IPA women's wives (BBC Taurus IPA), IPA women - Pastor BBC Taurus - after suffering, woman and bishops hit on the easiest arrow for the arch. Hunter, the commander of the powerful is new. Papa Andrew you Howl Yellow Chicken Mm Agbarus Bosma Test for Sinestro 1 / 3-1000. Smart 4P George Elvira, December II - Pilot 2 ... 73 [2] 3 Original Script file. 3 42-38000 Preparing People in Georgia, Georgia Paz Two Years - Shell HTS Hiroshima, Paul, George P. 2. 1683 ... English, French, Colombo, Nintendo, Canuck Black Rory, agree with national laws . .. [2], Greece, Italy, United States in sports groups ... demand for space [4] [5] [6] ATL one but we do not read, "I have heard the head twice" but this is the idea, good. When a leader dies ... buried in the Paris Labyrinth, Tess and Brie and the Kronogods Ready | A pleasant place of residence held August 1570 [11: 5] Clement Bach Bali - the world's largest Cicero sea. More than two years Hydroponics / L-2 George ovulation stream.d special at the end of four years, [4] Google has more pressure 5. [7] Using the backpacks of Dr. Clarke's four Gadgets and Sara. "The German Parliament says the House says 4/357 100 Evolve Mobile 4 R / 3 1000 MPS: 3-10000 years ago to Mali P4 2.3 2.1 (4) Investing 100 years ago", George Thomas (he less than 3).||
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 6:30 PM UTC
The fine lines
Etching my
Once admired smile
Are a tribute to
Sorrow and pain
I have borne .
The feigned exuberance
Of the smile
Is just for you ,
M y beloved !
From the collection of Ms Kusum Rajapakse, Colombo
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 9:06 AM UTC
Gordon and I waited outside, while the Australian soldiers were carried onto one of the transports. They were all stretcher cases, men who had been shot or blown up by Malayan terrorists I think. When every one was taken on board, Gordon and I were told to board the other Dakota type aircraft, along with a large chest of spare parts, and two air frame fitters. Both aircraft were identical and equally sparse and noisy, described as flying pigs by the pilot of our aircraft, who was a Flight Searjeant. There were two nursing sisters on the other aircraft, looking after the injured men, our aircraft was almost empty by comparison. We took off with the engines roar filling our ears, and turned towards Ceylon, now renamed Sri Lanka. I prefer the former name personally. That part of the flight went ok, although there was no sight of land until we touched down in Colombo.
Colombo was quite beautiful and I can't recall where we were billeted but I do recall that there were rows of wooden bungalow's set amidst cocoanut palms. There were lot's of nuts on the ground, still in their husks, but we could not break them open without some kind of tool. We were also warned to keep clear of falling nuts, which could be lethal to anyone below. The following morning we left Ceylon and headed out across The Java Sea, looking for a small island which if memory serves was called Koepeng. That's when things started to get a little hairy!!
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 6:02 PM UTC
¡Desgraciado Almirante! Tu pobre América,
tu india virgen y hermosa de sangre cálida,
la perla de tus sueños, es una histérica
de convulsivos nervios y frente pálida.
Un desastroso espirítu posee tu tierra:
donde la tribu unida blandió sus mazas,
hoy se enciende entre hermanos perpetua guerra,
se hieren y destrozan las mismas razas.
Al ídolo de piedra reemplaza ahora
el ídolo de carne que se entroniza,
y cada día alumbra la blanca aurora
en los campos fraternos sangre y ceniza.
Desdeñando a los reyes nos dimos leyes
al son de los cañones y los clarines,
y hoy al favor siniestro de negros reyes
fraternizan los Judas con los Caínes.
Bebiendo la esparcida savia francesa
con nuestra boca indígena semiespañola,
día a día cantamos la Marsellesa
para acabar danzando la Carmañola.
Las ambiciones pérfidas no tienen diques,
soñadas libertades yacen deshechas.
¡Eso no hicieron nunca nuestros caciques,
a quienes las montañas daban las flechas!
Ellos eran soberbios, leales y francos,
ceñidas las cabezas de raras plumas;
¡ojalá hubieran sido los hombres blancos
como los Atahualpas y Moctezumas!
Cuando en vientres de América cayó semilla
de la raza de hierro que fue de España,
mezcló su fuerza heroica la gran Castilla
con la fuerza del indio de la montaña.
¡Pluguiera a Dios las aguas antes intactas
no reflejaran nunca las blancas velas;
ni vieran las estrellas estupefactas
arribar a la orilla tus carabelas!
Libre como las águilas, vieran los montes
pasar los aborígenes por los boscajes,
persiguiendo los pumas y los bisontes
con el dardo certero de sus carcajes.
Que más valiera el jefe rudo y bizarro
que el soldado que en fango sus glorias finca,
que ha hecho gemir al zipa bajo su carro
o temblar las heladas momias del Inca.
La cruz que nos llevaste padece mengua;
y tras encanalladas revoluciones,
la canalla escritora mancha la lengua
que escribieron Cervantes y Calderones.
Cristo va por las calles flaco y enclenque,
Barrabás tiene esclavos y charreteras,
y en las tierras de Chibcha, Cuzco y Palenque
han visto engalonadas a las panteras.
Duelos, espantos, guerras, fiebre constante
en nuestra senda ha puesto la suerte triste:
¡Cristóforo Colombo, pobre Almirante,
ruega a Dios por el mundo que descubriste!
1.1k
Why cry
This is what
The world
Has become .
Accept
We are worse
Than animals
Who **** for hunger
Or for love .
The killer
Showed his
Baseless ego
Never thinking
How he would feel
If baited and killed .
A majestic creature
More powerful
Than man
Without a weapon
Laid to rest
Brutally .
Assasins ****
For money ,
Religion or politics .
Why **** Cecil
Free of all this .
Mankind
Bow your heads
In shame .
We have reached
The ultimate
Depths
Of degeneration .
Collection of Ms Kusum Rajapakse , Colombo
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 9:45 AM UTC
Flicker of candlelight ,
A gently gliding boat ,
The world bathed in tranquility ,
The air filled with prayer ,
The riverbank
Teeming with humanity-
An artists palette
Of myraid hues .
A fireball appears
Suddenly from nowhere
Breaking the dawn ,
Painting the world
Orange , yellow and pink .
The heavens complete !
How lucky are we-
You and i
To share this heaven
For a while !
From the collection of Ms Kusum Rajapakse , Colombo
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 5:21 AM UTC
You are the friend I wish to be,
for us to separate i can never foresee.
You are the friend I wish not to play hide and seek,
for a friend like you is hard to find; you are unique!
You are the friend that helps me get closer to the Almighty
in the suburbs of Colombo, the largest city
You are the friend I choose to be around
for when I'm down you lift me from the ground.
You are the friend together how amazing we have grown
not just together but even on our own!
You are the friend whose friendship I feel is coming to an end,
but NO!! as long as I look back and share these thoughts with the world it wont for you are my friend.
Jun 29, 2012
Jun 29, 2012 at 9:58 AM UTC
Across oceans wide ,
Through vineyards
And orchards
To the call of the flamenco
You will go
With your heart aflame
Looking for the perfect one
To love , to adore .
Beware of the blindness
which strikes you often
To ignore your hearts call
And the quest begins
Again !
From the collection of Ms Kusum Rajapakse Colombo.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 4:59 AM UTC
How flippant
Can i be
Hugging myself
To keep my heart
From flying
Word to word
Fighting to the end ,
Killing this yearning
Bursting through
The vitals
Of my being .
From the collection of Ms Kusum Rajapakse , Colombo
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 7:23 AM UTC
Keening Iraqi rpg koranic crumbles heaven’s. Enkidu kills the god, decapitates forest’s guardian. Against girl-groping monk Sharvan said truth ****** choot ****** on the Matara Express headed toward Colombo. Egyptian acres scent ***** where Hanuman dropped moly mountain into naga kovil’s backyard. Caramel tethers artery, never speaks in word-simple. Father’s thrush to go plucked flensed singer, lashes silken, cuts drafted ghost-voiced achtungtexte in elongated black ink. Affirming unchecked fluent grit refresh eagle standard, lost legion trollops ******* like Catullus. Cantering
predicate broidered domine dismissal, does not prevent smatter, and boozed brought fools alongside. Murderers cremating vulgate rob black willow mosque. Dappled spent commands a beautiful that is no place. Squirming myrmidons march honey trail to the western sea. Disregard lack, loss, and overrule morose placental hayride. Mint golden sluggish essays. Snaring nearness generously urinate, anticipate licks of *****
Jan 20, 2018
Jan 20, 2018 at 10:36 PM UTC
Shroud me in your
cold unfeeling cloak ,
take me to the world
beyond the clouds,
make me into a
cold unfeeling thing
so i could roam
the green mountains
untouched by man,
faraway from hurt
Collection of Ms Kusum Rajapakse, Colombo
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 5:04 AM UTC
Kissing the feet
Of umpteen lovers
Listening to whispers
Of everlasting love.
It is the magic
Of the purple plains
Which made them
Insane
And bare their souls .
Do not be jealous
Of such closeness.
It is only
A mirage
Woven by man .
You are lucky ,
My Binara blossom
Swaying alone
In a world of beauty ,
Until your breath
Leaves you in a song ,
From the collection of Ms Kusum Rajapakse ,Colombo
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 7:21 AM UTC
My mind says
To release you
Of my tentacles ,
But my heart says
To draw you
Even closer
And suffocate
T o death !
From the collection of Ms Kusum Rajapakse ,Colombo
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 7:32 AM UTC
( After the Easter Bombing, 2019)
To daily travelers like me,
Mr. Aziz was a common sight on the train.
Small and bearded, clean and bright
He was the perfect train companion.
Newspaper in hand, brief case clutched tight
He would smartly stand up for the ladies,
book tickets and hold parcels
For the less fortunate.
An old hand in the Kandy line
His neat little person ideal
For walking between temperamental
Carriages, rubbing intimately
Against ill-fitted hinges,
Despite creaking bolts
And rusty fringes.
When the trains started again, mid-May
He was a changed man.
Suddenly his clothes hung on him loosely
And people looked at him askance.
They slithered further from him
In the ticketing queue-
And no ladies wished to hold his parcels.
There were subtle evasions
And cruel barbs-
And one day he comes, his beard gone
The valleys and shadows of his face open to
Our stripping gaze.
He settles himself awkwardly in a corner-seat
Wishing himself invisible
And somehow, I know,
That this is the beginning of an end,
He will perhaps retire a few months in advance,
Sit on his porch in glum silence-
Recalling the magical sway of old carriages,
Rubbing with familiarity through tunnels and lanes-
Like old lovers, though ill-matched,
arrange creaking limbs on creaking beds.
Despite creaking bolts
and corroded chains.
Apr 1, 2021
Apr 1, 2021 at 9:47 PM UTC