"hilli" poems
At the top of the world there's an island
A place where the sun never shines
But the people don't care because the snow over there
Is so bright, they nearly go blind
They live at the foot of a mountain
Where the flowers last hardly a day
But they live off the land and lend each other a hand
On this island where night is their day
They'd punish me if I dare tell you
And if I ask them, they'd say they don't know
But what keeps them healthy even though they are not wealthy
On this magical island, is snow
The flakes as they fall look like candy
And the children rush out when it snows, for a treat
When they open their mouths and gulp down the flakes
Because nothing on earth tastes so sweet
But then one dark day, smoke blew in their way
And the temperatures got higher
On the horizon they saw fire and the waters did rise
And the snow started melting away
And the people weren't tearful, nor fearful or scared
Because the secret was out there
At last, the secret was shared
They watched as the ice turned to water
And streamed down into the sea
And lit up the ocean and crept in slow-motion
Through the world they never did see
And people in lands around the planet were in shock
As the light came to shore and lit up the beaches
And even their teachers couldn't say what the bright light was for
It flowed upstream through the mountains
Burst out through their fountains
Breaking all life's natural laws
Till they lit up the planet and all who lived on it
Were touched by this magical force
And they looked all around at the sky and at the ground
And they realized what they had been seeing then
As they started to cry their tears filled the sky
And the black storm clouds gathered above
And then the heavens opened
And the rains came to show them
That their world needs a little more love
At the top of the world there's an island
A place where the sun never shines
But the people don't care because the snow over there
Is so bright, the sun's in their mind
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
Dreams aren't meant to be dreamed
They are meant to be fulfilled
So let's rush up the stairs to the roof
I tell you I don't only work hard
Fool around to become yourself
Be the first one to shine brighter
Don't put a gloomy face
Get ****** off and start over again
Be the pop , Be the cool
And make everyone's heart melodious hilli
Give a eternal smile to your dream
And be the colour of your life
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 1:21 PM UTC
We are the brothers of suns; our winter chants have a very delicate roaring, and our mumbles have a wide love. We are the sons of old farmers know the magic tales of our rosary rivers and comb the golden braid of the sun at its smiley morning. You know; the brother is a smile, and the brotherhood is a gift so when you have a brother you will be an endless happy bird and a timeless openhanded tree. Yes, We are Iraqis; the son of this land; the land of brotherhood; our Hilli beans inherited the magic songs from the Babylonian clayey tablets and our amber rice has learnt their peaceful colors from the white souls of our ancestors. Yes, we are the sons of the magic land but this strange world always -and without cause- trying to **** our dreams. Here, in our land, the land of brotherhood, the souls are smooth and the hearts are delicate but the roads are grey and the winds are rough because the blind world has a very black hand which don't stop the stealing of our chants. Yes, we are the endless chants and timeless songs but you should plant a red rose in your fields and lodge wild deer in your lands to hear our magic and to see our colors.
Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 9:47 PM UTC