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"encourager" poems
You are not a teacher. You are a: wisdom-imparter confidence-booster, esteem-increaser, fun-creator, book-reader, essay-writer, dedication-inspirer, love-definer, joy-inducer, enthusiasm-evoker, wonder-explorer, beauty-demonstrator, knowledge-sharer, thrill-designer, truth-teller, excitement-architect, student-encourager, A friend. You are not a teacher.
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May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 11:47 AM UTC
To My Teacher
With Easter approaching it made me think of a little girl I used to babysit Her father was one of the Russian hockey players here in Detroit I'm not really sure of what they believed about God but they didn't attend church at that time. While her father was away, playing hockey in Germany due to a lock out in the NHL and her mother was out of town, I found myself alone with her on Easter weekend. I knew I wanted to attend services, so just before bed one night I approached the subject of God with her. She was young, probably 7 or 8 at the time, so initially she was afraid. I think she said something like if God came to her front door she would get her Dad & he wouldn't let him in. Her Dad was a fairly robust defensemen, so God would surely no better than to mess with him lol. I went on to explain as best as I could that God was her friend. Of course we also discussed how we can't see him and what Heaven is, and who knows what really went through that pretty little head of hers, but she did listen intently. We went to church, I was able to even get her in a dress, a true miracle in itself as she was quite the tomboy back then, She didn't say a great deal, and no doubt at such a young age she had little if any real understanding, But now she is a young woman, a believer in Christ, living an amazing life, an encourager, strong like her father, and I can't help but hope a little that those tiny seeds I planted so many years ago may have helped shape her into the person she is today. A few years back she shared with me on facebook a little poem I had given her before they moved out of state. The poem was worn & tattered but to know that she had held onto it after some 15 years is one of the greatest gifts she could have ever given me. I may never have children of my own, Not always an easy thing to accept, But I do thank God for the time I was given in helping to raise such a beautiful girl.
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Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 3:54 PM UTC
A poem, worn & tattered
With Easter approaching it made me think of a little girl I used to babysit Her father was one of the Russian hockey players here in Detroit I'm not really sure of what they believed about God but they didn't attend church at that time. While her father was away, playing hockey in Germany due to a lock out in the NHL and her mother was out of town, I found myself alone with her on Easter weekend. I knew I wanted to attend services, so just before bed one night I approached the subject of God with her. She was young, probably 7 or 8 at the time, so initially she was afraid. I think she said something like if God came to her front door she would get her Dad & he wouldn't let him in. Her Dad was a fairly robust defensemen, so God would surely no better than to mess with him lol. I went on to explain as best as I could that God was her friend. Of course we also discussed how we can't see him and what Heaven is, and who knows what really went through that pretty little head of hers, but she did listen intently. We went to church, I was able to even get her in a dress, a true miracle in itself as she was quite the tomboy back then, She didn't say a great deal, and no doubt at such a young age she had little if any real understanding, But now she is a young woman, a believer in Christ, living an amazing life, an encourager, strong like her father, and I can't help but hope a little that those tiny seeds I planted so many years ago may have helped shape her into the person she is today. A few years back she shared with me on facebook a little poem I had given her before they moved out of state. The poem was worn & tattered but to know that she had held onto it after some 15 years is one of the greatest gifts she could have ever given me. I may never have children of my own, Not always an easy thing to accept, But I do thank God for the time I was given in helping to raise such a beautiful girl.
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41
An encourager Is an friend Who try to Be god's gift Of friendship To show others That i see myself Is an encourager. One of my gifts That god gave me Is friendship and Encouraging others To know that Your only friends Is our family and god. No one can't stop us For having friendship today But we have a power of encouraging And that is what we needed So be an ENCOURGER everyday. By K-mari ©2016
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Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC
An Encourager
It's funny when you need someone to be free. When the steering wheel isn't liberation, when you spot smiles from your so-called friends, and they only put you on pins and needles, when every word you release must walk the tightrope of judgement, as starving eyes wait on tradgedy. It's hard to stay happy when your lover isn't around. When all the guilt and high crimes circle like vultures, when your distant relatives keep asking, "are you sure you're okay?" When everyone paints you as bitter and self-loathing because you want life to mean much less than this. It's the memories tying us together. "Soon" becomes the lifeline, the encourager. Future prophecies of coffee, blankets, catnaps, bad movies, and late night discussions subdue the hours. So, I'm sorry if I seem coarse. I'm sorry if I seem vengeful. But terrible thoughts abound, when my freedom is away.
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Nov 26, 2010
Nov 26, 2010 at 11:29 AM UTC
Every Word Walks the Tightrope (When My Lover is Away)
the first time we passed in the hallway our energies awakened to the presence of a like spirit it was that instant that you became my friend although neither of us knew it yet a year later, mouths and hearts opened empathy spirituality humanness and humor linguistic nuances and predilections sing with ease and asylum the enlightenment and liberation of being heard! for this, i vow my loyalty years, miles, and actions are inconsequential here i stand confidante encourager synchronicity how much you have been to me is fathomless the who you are, is soil under my feet your words breathe air into my mouth your kindness anoints my head with oil
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Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 1:09 AM UTC
2613
a trending timeline working sheet for encouragement longing for affirmation confirmation to be a presentation long lasting momentum luster for totally undertaking for worthy sentimentality loving each person and creation encourager to life
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Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 8:38 AM UTC
Encourager to life
~ beside a warm fire on a late winter's morn, with the help of three midwives their baby was born. wrapping him gently to shield from morn's frost, hearing his first breaths while holding him close. singing a lullaby, they rock him to sleep; cradled in their arms, they watch him dream. twenty five winters; good years, though some long, as a man was being forged in their little boy. in many ways wise, encourager and friend, the tenderest heart, persevering to the end. through illness, through setbacks, he always believed; and opening their arms they watch him dream. beside a warm fire on a late winter's morn, alone with the angels their son was re-born. closing his eyes as he lay down to dream, his last breath watched lovingly, he drifted to sleep. then carried so gently to a new home above, to awake in the arms of the many he'd loved. today by the fire on this mid-winter's morn, they find themselves still letting go of their son. surrounded by memories wherever they gaze, this earth seems clouded, though they see through its haze. they find themselves longing for their loved one above, and dreaming of holding this son that they love. ~ *post script. written in January of 2011, two years after his goodbye.  dusted off just a bit this morning with a few of its wrinkles ironed just for posting.   this time of winter, these cold, blustery days with blue skies overhead, it seems to bring the out melencholy. might be its time to head out to one of his favorite trails not too far from here... maybe we,'ll try the Columbia Gorge's Eagle Creek trail up to Punchbowl Falls... he loved it out there away from the city.* Steve
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Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 11:36 AM UTC
mid winter's mourn
~ beside a warm fire on a late winter's morn, with the help of three midwives their baby was born. wrapping him gently to shield from morn's frost, hearing his first breaths while holding him close. singing a lullaby, they rock him to sleep; cradled in their arms, they watch him dream. twenty five winters; good years, though some long, as a man was being forged in their little boy. in many ways wise, encourager and friend, the tenderest heart, persevering to the end. through illness, through setbacks, he always believed; and opening their arms they watch him dream. beside a warm fire on a late winter's morn, alone with the angels their son was re-born. closing his eyes as he lay down to dream, his last breath watched lovingly, he drifted to sleep. then carried so gently to a new home above, to awake in the arms of the many he'd loved. today by the fire on this mid-winter's morn, they find themselves still letting go of their son. surrounded by memories wherever they gaze, this earth seems clouded, though they see through its haze. they find themselves longing for their loved one above, and dreaming of holding this son that they love. ~ *post script. written in January of 2011, two years after his goodbye.  dusted off just a bit this morning with a few of its wrinkles ironed just for posting.   this time of winter, these cold, blustery days with blue skies overhead, it seems to bring the out melencholy. might be its time to head out to one of his favorite trails not too far from here... maybe we,'ll try the Columbia Gorge's Eagle Creek trail up to Punchbowl Falls... he loved it out there away from the city.* Steve
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30
Au cimetière des innocents Je pensais profondément je marchais si lentement et je ne faisais jamais attention j'ai trouver la mort joyeuse, souriante et moqueuse avec son hache ravageuse si terrifiante si dangereuse Je l'ai vu mais j'ai pu rien faire, je me suis dis vaut mieux se taire, j'avais peur que sous un des ses tombes elle m'enterre Mais un jour j'ai osé lui parler, la confronter en espérant changer la douloureuse réalité Mais hélas elle m'a tué, car personne n'a osé m'aider ni me défendre ni simplement m'encourager Et aujourd'hui je suis sous la terre absorbante ce poison amer priante pour un futur plus beau et plus clair © Sùkeey
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Jun 30, 2011
Jun 30, 2011 at 7:43 AM UTC
Au cimetière des innocents
Too young and touching Too old turn lusting Too much for physical Our brain has taught to function Too much to see What seems to be right it sees But not the encourager For too young and old This is not the cycle
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Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 12:51 PM UTC
body attraction
Don't get ahead of me and write your story! Don't go another chapter. Thinking the mood will capture. I'm in time standing still.. With every bit of my own appeal. In my simple time filled maze. My own lust craze. A variety lost in chapter three. You wont see my feet moving, cuz sum different I see. Listen you stay writing mental notes And making quotes. Of repetitions lil mentions. Yet I've been writing undisturbed proverbs. While entertaining fluffy clouds in hidden suburbs. Speaking unplainly @You How can you Understand me to get to chapter 2. And see me in chapter 3. Tell meh you feeling Me. Selfish..walking talking with a unheard woman. Right now I'ma be selfish cuz there's not lots in common. But Im avoiding confusion.. I'm made of words and proverbs emotions and quotations. And vocals that speak of revelations. A Queendom nation. Bell of a heightened Resurrection. Do I move you to deeper configuration. Or to liquid confusion. As a harp I'm played.. My cords play stayed. Yet to instructions I move, frequently  gently. Not many clearly see the harmony that guides me. I am writer. Server..Praiser..Uplifter..Encourager. Made to stir, seek, employ, create and confer. A waiter..a humble soul..Qualifier..flower. @I'm simply__H.E.R. writer.
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Sep 19, 2020
Sep 19, 2020 at 10:51 AM UTC
OH@Me
I watched how violence manifests in the hearts of men. When I walked passed a spider, Resting by the entrence of my home. He had no quarrel with me Even when i took his sun without say, Nor was he scared of this great figure That he would scour away. It was I who was gripped by fear, Imagining the unimaginable. In my minds eye I had already seen my death at the hands of a spider. My ignorance had lead my imagination Into a great series of unfortuitous events. Without knowing, without seeing for my self It began With thinking if I leave this door open, He will enter. When he enters, He will make his way to my bedroom unseen. And when the night takes me away, He will make sure my soul never returns to this body. This is when my fears soon turned to hate and anger, Spurred on by the fear of death I had no problem sending this creature to the great unknown That I was scared of. My superiority in statue, My enduring strength to **** without the need to feed And this consciousness I possess to differentiate between victim and transgresser, Is the proof and worth Of my life being spared and yours buried beneath the rubble Allowing worms to feed off your decaying matter. I will not be reduced to such insignificance And be shamed by this inferior peasant with no home. I had seen how fear had contorted my imagination Influenced my thoughts to vibrate at a low frequency Of; hate, anger, fear, doubt and anxiety. With the aid of memory, What I had conceived vividly in my mind About how this creature wanted to belittle my existence Now latched on to feelings from the past That also vibrate at a low frequency. The trauma I had to endure From shame and moments of embarrasment, Was the great encourager in killing Preventing a reoccurrence of this pain in the future. Even though he should succeed in my hyperthetical death Where I would no longer exist to bare this worry, I was still scared of what people might think of me after death.
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Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 6:24 AM UTC
Brethren
I watched how violence manifests in the hearts of men. When I walked passed a spider, Resting by the entrence of my home. He had no quarrel with me Even when i took his sun without say, Nor was he scared of this great figure That he would scour away. It was I who was gripped by fear, Imagining the unimaginable. In my minds eye I had already seen my death at the hands of a spider. My ignorance had lead my imagination Into a great series of unfortuitous events. Without knowing, without seeing for my self It began With thinking if I leave this door open, He will enter. When he enters, He will make his way to my bedroom unseen. And when the night takes me away, He will make sure my soul never returns to this body. This is when my fears soon turned to hate and anger, Spurred on by the fear of death I had no problem sending this creature to the great unknown That I was scared of. My superiority in statue, My enduring strength to **** without the need to feed And this consciousness I possess to differentiate between victim and transgresser, Is the proof and worth Of my life being spared and yours buried beneath the rubble Allowing worms to feed off your decaying matter. I will not be reduced to such insignificance And be shamed by this inferior peasant with no home. I had seen how fear had contorted my imagination Influenced my thoughts to vibrate at a low frequency Of; hate, anger, fear, doubt and anxiety. With the aid of memory, What I had conceived vividly in my mind About how this creature wanted to belittle my existence Now latched on to feelings from the past That also vibrate at a low frequency. The trauma I had to endure From shame and moments of embarrasment, Was the great encourager in killing Preventing a reoccurrence of this pain in the future. Even though he should succeed in my hyperthetical death Where I would no longer exist to bare this worry, I was still scared of what people might think of me after death.
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48
Dear lover, You will be my future And years from now, You’ll walk with me in the altar We’ll face each other And utter promises of love. Red rose petals Shall groove in the humid air Together, we’ll surpass every trial Together, we’ll be spiritually fit. I believe in true love And that I will wait for you For I know God is still making you firm With faith like a rock And deeper foundation upon Him. We shall run and finish the race We shall balance the taste of our love And He shall reign our relationship He shall be the center of it all. I will love you forever My trust will be pure May the Lord bless both of us That our imperfections would be set aside And that His love shall abound. I will support and held your hand That I may help you be mature May He be our encourager May He fix our eyes upon Him That we may serve Him well. (5/1/14 @xirlleelang)
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May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC
Dear Future Lover
Ma fine Muse Je te jure passion indéfectible et courtoise Vénération et totale soumission Je suis vassal et dévôt chevalier Prêt à guerroyer de tournois en tournois Pour mon inaccessible dame suzeraine. Tu m'as octroyé pour encourager ma flamme Un mouchoir brodé de tes initiales Comme gage de ton amour adultère Et quand le désir de toi me ronge, me consomme Et me brûle de jalousie C'est avec extase que je presse Contre mon front tes douces initiales. Fais de ton fine et fol amant Ce que tu voudras Je suis ton esclave Assermenté Je ne cherche ni liberté Ni affranchissement Et s'il te plaît que je meure Je mourrai de fine amour En chantant la joie de ta beauté précieuse Comme un troubadour et sa viole pieuse.
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Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 2:50 AM UTC
Dame suzeraine
I met some amazing people here on Hello poetry. As well as Facebook everywhere I go here on the earth. High school junior high grade school places that I worked. Bars , night clubs, churches everywhere that I have been. I have met Amazing, Awesome people here on the earth. That has made my life worth living no matter how dark. That it was once, for I have met so many that change my life. I want you to know that you are truly a life changer. That you truly are special as well, thank you very much. I love you with Christ love and want you to know one thing. That you have been encourager and show me true hope as well.
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Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 5:36 PM UTC
My Life Only Matters If You Are In It
I am an angel in disguise, The reason for the vice, I am the fear at the hallway, I am the accidents at midday, I am the terror in kids dreams, I am the reason why they scream, I am the uncertainty in your choices, I am the million lying voices, I am the woes of the people, I am the persistent evil, I am the hate in your heart, I am the one who tears apart, I am the lust in your mind, I am the fortune you cant find, I am the angel of the night, I am the serpent that must bite, I am the hypocricy in your actions, I am the encourager of mixed reactions, I am the one who takes your peace, I am the one who gives you disease, I am the blood sacrifice, I am your lover's sudden demise, I am the enemy of the the saint, I am the reason why you faint, I am your slumber and your sleep, I am the reason why nations weep, I am the killer of your friends, I am the reason why the zealous bends, I am the giver of deadly missions, I am your refusal to righteous submissions, I am the ****** in the cities, I am the unsolved conspiracies, I am the injustice your government, I am their wicked covenant, I am the father of liars, I am your reckless desires, I am but not the I AM, i am here to cause you harm. But i shall not succeed, Because my end is guarantteed. Refuse me therefore, And be free evermore.
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Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 7:44 AM UTC
EL DIABLO
This is to say that Storm Clouds Are the accumulation of water in the air, That Hate is the buildup of prejudice and fear, That Change is when humans grow tired Of hearing the rain fall on deaf ears, Watching people with umbrellas wondering Why those without are getting wet. This is to call upon Love, The accumulation of Compassion, Encourager of Empathy, The feeling of sunshine when you smile at me. Hope is the keeper of faith, Knowledge that tomorrow isn't always the same, That even in the dark months, sunlight is inevitable, And eventually we all reach the end of the tunnel, Hope knows sometimes Change has to Rain down Upon the lands of dry grass and wildfires, That floods are a risk when the dirt has lost its purpose, But new foliage grows where the ground once cried out, So we may one day sustain ourselves on the land We thought could never bear more life, The world we thought could never Change.
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Jan 20, 2021
Jan 20, 2021 at 2:57 PM UTC
Elements of Change
What does my name say about me? Is it an expression of who I am? This collection of sounds Jumbled into something Others consider meaningful It means "young creature" In the Gaelic language That was the birthright Of my ancestors But to me it means "writer" "Thinker" "Weakling" "Warrior" "Tempter" "Encourager" "Healer" My name is how I know myself How I express The very idea of my soul And all the experiences that have Shaped Molded Filled My wanton human soul It is how I say "These are the results Of all the many things I have learned Done Destroyed Loved And they make a greater product than The sum of all the parts." My silly name Is how I express my humanity My individuality My commonality My ignorance My name is not meaningful On it's own But it is how I can know myself And most importantly of all It is mine
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May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
My Name
as far as days go, this is just another one, and i a son, of a man, who died, not on this day, for this was his birthday, he was not an encourager, in things he did not understand or believe, he was not a kind man, but he opened doors for women, in his chauvinistic ways, he was a jealous kind, he was an alcoholic kind, he was a smoking kind,                       he was blind, to the wrongs, that he did, and his tough language hid a man who was a boy always looking for the approval, he found somewhere else, he changed, he grew, he became a new creature, before his God, this was a good thing, at fifty two and one third an aneurysm blew a small hole with force, a pin ***** in a spot in his brain, and drain away the good and the bad that was my dad, he never went back to work again, he was there for the next twenty two years, conversations had left me in tears, for there was no depth, as I would go to my car or to catch the bus and sit, looking back at his home then the home, but to my fault I chose no one else to ask the tough questions about raising kids, I chose no surrogate, I went on my way alone, but that is another story, for today is his day, remembering playing catch, taking turns, with my mom or my brother, he was a carver, he was a boat maker, he wrote letters to politicians, he liked to go fly fishing, which he taught me, but I never got hooked, but driving him home, from the Militia, when he had had, imbibed too much, muttering under his breath about the laws and such and such, later he came to our wedding, and left too soon, he and his new spouse prayed while we hiked and fancied completing the Appalaichan Trail with a two year old, their prayers brought us safely home, but at seventy four after a fall and time in a home, he died alone, I cried out when I was told on January 8, that day the year, he is gone. So today, I raised a glass of red, took a moment and said, thanks dad, for what you did do. May I forgive and forget the rest.
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 11:26 PM UTC
26 April
as far as days go, this is just another one, and i a son, of a man, who died, not on this day, for this was his birthday, he was not an encourager, in things he did not understand or believe, he was not a kind man, but he opened doors for women, in his chauvinistic ways, he was a jealous kind, he was an alcoholic kind, he was a smoking kind,                       he was blind, to the wrongs, that he did, and his tough language hid a man who was a boy always looking for the approval, he found somewhere else, he changed, he grew, he became a new creature, before his God, this was a good thing, at fifty two and one third an aneurysm blew a small hole with force, a pin ***** in a spot in his brain, and drain away the good and the bad that was my dad, he never went back to work again, he was there for the next twenty two years, conversations had left me in tears, for there was no depth, as I would go to my car or to catch the bus and sit, looking back at his home then the home, but to my fault I chose no one else to ask the tough questions about raising kids, I chose no surrogate, I went on my way alone, but that is another story, for today is his day, remembering playing catch, taking turns, with my mom or my brother, he was a carver, he was a boat maker, he wrote letters to politicians, he liked to go fly fishing, which he taught me, but I never got hooked, but driving him home, from the Militia, when he had had, imbibed too much, muttering under his breath about the laws and such and such, later he came to our wedding, and left too soon, he and his new spouse prayed while we hiked and fancied completing the Appalaichan Trail with a two year old, their prayers brought us safely home, but at seventy four after a fall and time in a home, he died alone, I cried out when I was told on January 8, that day the year, he is gone. So today, I raised a glass of red, took a moment and said, thanks dad, for what you did do. May I forgive and forget the rest.
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You might seem far away from your dreams but God has the right move to link everything together. Keep working hard even when nobody sees it Or understands your passion. Your vision shall speak in the end. The path of fulfilling destiny is always lonely But CHAMPIONS are made through this path. You are not alone. God is always with you. Oil is processed through crushing and friction- So, the beautiful oil that will come out of your life Is also being processed presently. The path leads to GLORY So you can't give up. You have come too far to stop now. One day, your story will inspire others. Trust me!
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Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 11:48 AM UTC
That Personal Encourager
Vivacious, visionary with a temper Writes all of her anger out on paper The man who left The woman she holds The man who makes her wait Three people who occupy her heart space Kind, creative poet with a mission To share words with anybody who will listen A poem about hope A poem about change A poem about incandescent love Three poems that were spoken from the heart Empathetic encourager with the soul of a mother Teaching the art of loving each other A lesson on patience A lesson on forgiveness A lesson on compassion Three lessons that were all taught with passion
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Jul 19, 2021
Jul 19, 2021 at 12:58 AM UTC
Three
Mario William Vitale A Connecticut Yankee with a sensitive heart, a poet who is always thankful when we comment on his creative work and polite to others who are just beginning to write. A gentleman and poet who enters contests testing the waters of unknown hosts who might be overly critical and not so kind, Mario raises himself above the negativity, realizing that there are ways to conquer with kindness and truth by sharing his philosophy throughout his groups. Mean-spirited people are not his cup of tea, similar to rubbing salt in an open wound, Mario believes that there is goodness in most people as he is an encourager who believes in bringing out the best of his AP family throughout the years. If I could I would bake Mario a pizza with everything on it except anchovies for being so empathetic to all.
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Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 5:10 PM UTC
Mario William Vitale
You know me I am rare, scarce, unusual, expensive You want me, you need me You can’t afford me I even make up the gates of the new Jerusalem, If you don’t get me now, you will at the other side of the world. Precious and Peculiar in the sight of the creator Passionate pursuer of excellence Powerful but thoughtful Persevering for my goal(s) Proponent of justice, equity and equality Pretty not petty. Enthusiastic for the faith and eternity Elegant in style An encourager of the discouraged Elevated in thoughts, ideas , values and purpose An independent fighter Accountable for decisions and actions taken A narrow-minded individual on irrelevancies An admirable personality others get attracted to easily A tenaciously unwilling woman Royally visited by the King of Kings Respectable and refined A ruthless lover Rude. Wait! It’s for personalities who are low on dignity Rare gem Lucid in words and actions Loyal to those whom I love and I consider TRUE friends Lover of fun and high-spirits Low on patience with time defrauders. I am Pearl.
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Jul 11, 2019
Jul 11, 2019 at 7:53 AM UTC
I am Pearl
I'm an instigator, A thought generator, My words fly across the page, Like I'm an aviator, I'm sometimes seen as the perpetrator, As I spread my message, I feel like the negotiator, If only I could reach out to other's, And be a communicator, A compromiser or a speech maker, Or even an encourager or a motivator, But nobody hears my voice, I'm not an educator, Sadly I'm invisible, Unlike a force of nature, I wish I could do more, but like you i was born into this world, I wasn't the creator, But I'll never give up, I'm going now, I guess I'll try again later.
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Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 9:09 AM UTC
My message
Si je veux que ma destinée ne soit pas semblable à  un jour de pluie Je dois pas investir dans un parapluie Mais plustot prendre ce que je considère comme la petite chose que je fais maintenant au sérieux, Elle doit être productive pas seulement en billets Elle doit aussi sinon donner du sens a ma vie Je dois me dire qu'un jour je regarderai derrière et avec un sourire je benirai Dieu pour la force qu'il m'a donné de tenir bon Il ya que Lui mon Abris mon Défenseur mon admirable Conseiller A cela je doit ajouter Que je raconterai mon Histoire pour encourager Que j'écrirais ma bibliographie pour aménager les esprits Je donnerai mon témoignage pour inspirer Et je prendrai  exemple sur moi-même pour aspirer a plus grand Aujourd'hui je suis convaincue que Je ne dois pas lire les bibliographie de mes patriarches pour comprendre la clé de leur succès Je dois les lire  pour avoir un aperçu des obstacles et des monstres auquelles je ferai face pendant mon ascension, et m'attendre a ce que les miens soit plus féroces Ou prier pour cela Aujourd'hui je demande a la vie de ne pas me sourir Je lui promets que demain je lui sourirait en lui disant merci de n'avoir pas été facile avec moi D'avoir été un enseignant impartiale
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Sep 20, 2021
Sep 20, 2021 at 2:35 AM UTC
Ma Vie de demain Tome 2