"twa" poems
my test results showed divergent.
but she told me not to talk about it,
at least not here, or anywhere. ever.
he told me i could not be found about. never.
but they did, they eventually did.
they injected me- with serums, different kinds of them.
and i became their ultimate little experiment gem.
one of a kind.
every stimulation- every serum injected, i denied.
i was useless.
but then he came - my love. my Four. my Tobias
to my rescue.
i promised. not to put myself into danger,
like as i always did.
but i could not let him die. Caleb. my brother. my blood.
i had to save them. all of them.
death serum.
i could. resist.
but before that- he picks up a fight -
wounded in his wheel chair. paralyzed.
but still manages to, that little twa -
stab.
pain.
i see bloo-
thick red blo-
mom? but you're dea-
it's okay sweety, she says.
where am i?
in a better place.
you gave up your life Tris- for them.
i died?
yes honey, you died, an allegiant.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 8:25 AM UTC
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp,
And surely I’ll be mine!
And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu’d the gowans fine;
But we’ve wandered mony a weary fit
Sin’ auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
We twa hae paidled i’ the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin’ auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere,
And gie’s a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll tak a right guid-willie waught
For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
4k
"MARBLES...PYJAMAS AND JAM!"
wake up at 3 of the clock
eat jam in my pyjamas from the jar
play marbles with an imaginary friend
he wins...again
this the grown up world
of a four year old
acting like a grown up
time mine to play with
***
And then there was the childhood declension of sandwiches.
1. "Raw bread" Just as it was bread on bread....squashed flat and not...even air in between. I love bread me.
2. Bread and butter...your basic staple sandwich.
3. Bread and butter and sugar...now yer talking.
4. Bread and butter and banana...sprinkled with sugar.
5. And yer king of all sandwiches . the "Blood Sandwich!"
Bread, butter and Tomato Ketchup.
These were the sandwiches of my life. The kind even a child could make in the middle of the night when he wasn't supposed to be up and eating sandwiches.
"Marbles...pyjamas and jam!" I chanted to myself to announce the new me I have become.
I remember getting out of bed in my striped pyjamas and going downstairs and eating the jam out with a spoon( forget the bread) and then having a game of marbles by myself...first taking one shot and then moving over and becoming my invisible opponent and taking his shot. My imaginary friend winning all the time.
This was at 3 in the morning and felt very scary and daring and so grown up because I was deciding what time and what to do for myself even if it was 3 O' ****** clock in the morning.
I had envied grown ups and their not having to go to bed by nine and be able to stay up and be themselves. I could hear them laughing downstairs...having I supposed....the time of their lives.
So now I sang myself into my four year old adulthood with "Marbles...pyjamas...and jam!"
Because that's the kind of kid I am.
Now the wind wails through the ruins of the house howling that "Home is...an absence." My new mantra. And outside the house (that isn't there no more)( invisible to everyone but me) I would have ghost girls jump to a skipping rope chanting my "Marbles...pyjamas and jam!" as a rhyme. Skipping in time.
"And this one's OUT!" they all shout and scatter away like little marbles being hit by a sacred scared twa.
Jan 30, 2020
Jan 30, 2020 at 6:50 PM UTC
there is attitude as strong as my own in these kinks and these coils,
my Afro has a mind of its own.
she stands tall when she wants,
shrivel up when she’s cold.
sometimes shy,
she is not a people person.
my Afro only communicates with other Afros.
she ain’t stingy but she **** sure don’t like to be touched.
don’t you try to sweet talk her
when she’s in a rush.
only like a wash & oils.
sometimes gel and finger coils.
she’s amazing,
i love my twa.
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 9:03 AM UTC
Loko ndzi tihanyela andzi hanyeli nwina ndzi hanyela xikwembu xamina.
Loko ndzi famba miri ndzina matsolo yontswontswana,xana amilava ni fambisa leswi milavisaka xiswona ndzi tshika leswi hosi yindzi endliseke swona.
Loko ndzi khongela miri ndzi twa ndlala,xana ndzinga tshika kukhongela hosi yamuna hikwalaho ka nwina.
Ndzi tisomele tintombi nwina miku ndza oswa,amolava ndzi soma nwina ,mitaswivona leswaku ndzi soma hirirhandzu kungari Ku huha.
Xana ni endliwa yini?
Xankoka kanwina iku vona munhu axaniseka,leswaku mitaba swikhiyana minga heti.
Ebo mhe na ala,ndzi nge pfuki ndzi ni yingisile.
Loko mindzi vona ndzi hundza hi ndlela mi yimbelela tinsimu ta michongolo,onge hiloko mondzivona ndzimu vhevhulela.
Amilava ndzi titshova tshova bya vanwambhurhi kona mita tsaka ,Mina andzi fambeli kutsakisa munhu ndzi fambela kufika laha ndzi yaka kona.
Xana mindzi endla yini.
Andzi dyi swanwina ndzatitirhela himavoko ya Mina,nwina miendla onge vatomihakela.
Ndzi tshikeni ndzi tihanyela Mina.
Xana mindzi endla yini.
Ndza engeta nakambe xana mindzi endla yini?
Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 1:59 AM UTC
Auld Lange Syne
by Robert Burns
modern English translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
And days for which we pine?
For times we shared, my darling,
Days passed, once yours and mine,
We’ll raise a cup of kindness yet,
To those fond-remembered times!
Have you ever wondered just exactly what you're singing? "Auld lang syne" means something like "times gone by" or "times long since passed" and in the context of the song means something like "times long since passed that we shared together and now remember fondly." In my translation, which is not word-for-word, I try to communicate what I believe Burns was trying to communicate: raising a toast to fond recollections of times shared in the past. Keywords/Tags: Robert Burns, auld lang syne, old acquaintance, translation, modernization, update, interpretation, modern English, song
Original Scots Dialect Lyrics
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne.
CHORUS
For auld lang syne, my jo,
For auld lang syne.
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp!
And surely I'll be mine!
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
REPEAT CHORUS
We twa hae run about the braes
And pu'd the gowans fine
But we've wander'd mony a weary foot
Sin auld lang syne.
REPEAT CHORUS
We twa hae paidl'd i' the burn
Frae mornin' sun till dine.
But seas between us braid hae roar'd
Sin auld lang syne.
REPEAT CHORUS
And there's a hand, my trusty fiere!
And gie's a hand o' thine!
And we'll tak a right guid ***** waught,
For auld lang syne.
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 2:53 AM UTC
Haha,
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXXXIII)
Of leprechauns and clover, yes...t'avail
I've neither, am in green to match fr'intents
Mine hazel eyes, and how blue heavns wear thence
Such fresh-washed golden light in sweet all hail
O me! I'd feign go down which wooded trail
To hunt the early violets? Mushrooms dense
Wi' import are sought out and sold for sense
Or lurid dreams, but I want that detail.
Wee white-striped, purple faces none bestir
'Cept wildest breezes, whitest virgins too,
With purple stripes across their miens in tour--
I'd love to bend and finger them anew!
Sip twa espressos, joking of, in poor
'Scuse, "faux" things we oft cherish, as all woo.
17Mar19a
Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 5:34 PM UTC
am fae a toon that's done so bad
they gave it twa D's
whar the future greets
o' barren streets
on starless nights
an' the same ald wind
a suppose
ah wi kin dae is sing
an' sing wi dae
but no in tune
for ev'ry uphill
there's anither twa doon
an' some *****
howlin' awa' at the moon
it's quite the place meh toon
am gona quit the place quite soon
as I finish writin' this doon
an' tak' a last wee look
at the failin' toon
that helped write this book
Dec 20, 2023
Dec 20, 2023 at 10:10 AM UTC
Meet me beneath the olive-tre
I'th'garden of Gethsemane
Quhair Jesus pray'd. Pray thou with me.
Twa corbies mak an hairie nest
Within the gardens wooden brest.
The Sunne is running tow'rd the west.
From off the tre the fruict doth fall
Upon the firm fixt flatten'd ball
Of wormwood Earth whose seas are gall.
Jun 3, 2024
Jun 3, 2024 at 5:45 PM UTC
...miss Andrew. L14: Will didn't?
(sonnet #MMMMMMCCLXV)
Ya, moonlight at my feet whileas in pale
Excuse strings whine oer how I slumber thence?
The violin half shrieking, thet eye hence
Just stares down through my window to detail
My auld duvet as if on purpose, frail
White on the side I allus choose, a sense
Of what? 'non waiting in sheer silence, whence
Note how, and switch the radio off to scale.
I'm hungry now tis midnight--is that poor?
Twa sips of coffee, cold and stale ist too?--
Twelve hours 'go when twas fresh---and who cares fer
All that by now? Not me. Let Shakespeare do
Up lines none read cuz oh! we love as twere
His plays. We don't, at that. But ah, who knew?
13Apr17c
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 1:15 AM UTC
Seeing a swarm of flies
Seeping the sap of
A hand-deprived
Leaper's fresh wound
A good Samaritan
Disarrayed them with
A hand clap “Twa!” sound
Getting as close as he could
In vain expecting
“A thank you!” gratitude.
“You shouldn't have done that
When the former ones,
Who had their fills, depart
The famished ones come forth
For their part
To siphon my blood
To their hearts delight!”
The upstart incumbent
Closed a curtain
On at the-end-of- the-tunnel
-alluring light
Let alone warrant
The much-touted
Days bright—Democracy
Deepening
Across the board wealth sharing.
Revolutionary democrats
Who boast “Brave
In a guerilla fight
We have sent
Tyrants to a grave!”
Serving the people
Opted to forget
So as
From government's coffer
To line up their own pocket.
Tax-comafledged exploitation
Compounded by
Government-sponsored corruption
What is more intimidation
From one's land
Or abode alienation
Research aiming
At ethnic cleansing
Bureaucratic logjams
And maladministration
Creating a non stop
Hassle and tension
From fever-pitch
Brewing up
Political tension
To divert attention
Are the tactic
They use
To sustain
Their tenure
And advance
Bad governance.///
African politics © 23 hours ago, Alem Hailu Gabre Kristos sad poems • society poems
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Peter the Ce
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 2:17 AM UTC
Can I plead that I don't know how...as poor as that excuse?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMLXXXII)
****** up the tea cups Dad gave me, to thence
Drop all to get a hold of him, t'avail--
His dear initials on those twa cups hale
Reminders of my father, in defense
Of all he's givn me, 'spite my follies, whence
O how we talk in lieu of breakfast's scale
Of nour'shment! Likeas when we could detail
Each other's eye and face--talk--for intents.
I knew he'd love the Calhoun County tour--
Twas all both he and Mum had cherished through
The years: secluded, off the grid as twere,
Nor with the city's echo, quite poor too.
It's just the money. What drove me to stir
Up independence was that cursed thing's cue.
22May19b
May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 11:21 PM UTC
Zu Twa Szi
(Don't Mind Me I'm Just The Wind - African saying)
Don't mind me
I'm just the wind
You can scream into me if you want
I'll just toss the sound around
until it wallows into melody
You can dry tears by me if you need
I'll just carry their saltiness back to the sea
You can try to keep me from your skin
with all the skill of a master builder
But I'll search out every opening there is
and rub against all your privacy
without a second thought
I have no manners
or morals
or modesty
or inhibitions
or judgments
I won't reveal your whispers
I'll dissolve them
I won't discuss your secret doings
I'll scatter them
I won't scorn your libidinous thoughts
I'll caress them
If you rail against me
or try to beat me with your fists
I'll just part like the Red Sea
and move to both sides
of where your fists have been
You can spit at me when you're angry
I'll just spray it back in your face
You see I'm just the wind
I don't hold your happiness when you laugh
Or your loneliness when you cry
I don't hold your anger when you scream
I'm just the wind, a traveler
With no baggage or destination
With nothing to see
and nowhere to be seen
Seemingly nothing
You are the absence of space
that merely hinders
my journey
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 3:33 PM UTC
Tuned to the local classical station
I dont know what has become of me
All the other mid twenties at work
Listen to new **** and love to dance
I like lou reed and tom waits myself
And now im stuck on this classical
Binge
I suppose i will always try to escape
The crowds
Whether it be beneficial or not
This string quartet #8 "Razumovsky"
Finishes up and i drink my 7th beer
And say
In my best classical DJ voice
"That was Frou Frouflau" with his "Twa de La La in B minor"
And i laugh alone
In a dim lit room
Staring at paintings of a dim lit man
Me
And I start to feel
This is the right place
But the wrong time.
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 12:54 AM UTC
Well, in discussions since, I'm torn only because I cherish socializing, though I abhor the city.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMLXXII)
Out where twa rivers meet, or rather thence
Lo, at the top of that peninsla's tail,
In Calhoun County where farm houses hail
At scattered intervals, with half a sense
Of sheer depression hard in tow fr'intents,
They show me where folk lived sans plumbing's scale
As twere of "civ'lized," cell phone service frail,
Point out the pump: an outhouse their defense.
I ask how long they lived thus, and that's poor,
Cuz "all their lives!" (the answer) sez what? to
Me in effect? I canna say. We tour
Their property by A.T.V., the view
Romantic in its backwoods' fashion. Were
I thinking what, that all half seems tae woo?
18May19d
May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 11:10 PM UTC
Matko,
czemuż liść rajskiej jabłoni,
poczuł dotyk Twej dłoni?
... A wybór ten się ziścił?
To śnięcie, podszept liści...
Czy twa cierń była nader ostra?
Ma najdroższa,
Mater Nostra
... Dnia twego dziękczynienie,
nie miało oka tchnienie...
gdy znosiłaś krwiożercze znoje,
by ochronić
dziatki Twoje.
... Za Szeolem, bez pudru
lecz z chlubą łez nagości...
Twe serce
zmrożone w kajdany,
nie okazało miłości.
... Tak, tych palców spostrzeżeń
u męża nań spuszczonych...
Iżby stworzyć koncepcję
plemienia,cykl
niezwykle strudzony.
...Zbluzganiem, uwielbianiem,
Jest Ewą i Allahem...
Aby poczciwość dać rodzinie,
ciągle żyję
pod tym strachem.
Osobą jam nie znana,
Raczej funkcją, zadaniem
Jestem matką,
a moja profesja,
jest rodziny kochaniem.
„Od nigdy a po zawsze,
Byt, nie przeminę z wiatrem.
W honorze. W trawie. W mężczyźnie. Ostanę.”
Jun 17, 2020
Jun 17, 2020 at 6:08 AM UTC
Drones lazor equipt
Build a forcefield
In a sphere lazor armor
You cant touch plasma
Ill go 10 mph in a lazor held vehicle
100 years twa but space
Ill static electricity a sphere and mercury
Like nurolink
Dont blink
Emp no charge
D
I
E
Like a cad machine
Ill build a perfect layer beam an platform
Name 1 poet area 51 who got
Alien in his cell
Ill bounce off gravity particles
Ill 18.8 frequency **** 24.4
Noone got a lazor as nice as me *****
I ain lying invincible soon we flying
Feb 25, 2024
Feb 25, 2024 at 5:45 PM UTC
Well, I must thank Mark S. for his piece this AM...
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMXV)
Where dawn just tinges blackness with the frail
Note of first blushes on the East for sense,
I wake within the clutches of what thence?
O wherefore does my throat half whisper bail
Is gone as't burns?! A cold?! Again?! Detail
Pink's softest murmurs on this grey suspense,
And promise me it's all a joke from hence,
Or grant my soul such mercies as avail.
So sparrows gaily cry when I deter
The tug which begs I write what'd roll 'non through
Those freighted minutes as I cleaned in tour
Twa bathrooms--while aught slept. Now hungry to
Effect, what of the cruel suggestion? Poor?
Is hope a thing with anchors? Is it true?
27Apr19a
Apr 27, 2019
Apr 27, 2019 at 5:34 PM UTC
How tired were you,
In '92,
When Chicago flooded,
And Andrew hit South Florida?
Los Angeles missed an earthquake sized bullet,
But got shaken still,
After Rodney King and the subsequent riots.
TWA declares bankruptcy,
Clinton is elected,
Apartheid ended,
A shopping mall is opened,
A no fly zone is placed over Iraq,
Troops in Mogadishu.
How tired were you,
In '92,
Seems like a year that was cholk-full of events,
During New Year's Eve,
I wonder,
Did you tiredly sit counting down,
Just hoping that the upcoming year would be a **** sight better?
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 1:20 AM UTC
Nice, eh?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXXIII)
Say coffee is a thing we brew t'avail
O, conversation with my dad fr'intents,
And little me. Add tea in likewise hence,
For some occasions, is't? Cream just to scale
Let's say for joe, while rosy lea's detail
Shall have it rarely--dawn needs more for sense
Than pretty drinks--and what's left for pretense?
The thought of what we're thus engaged in's bail.
Or let's hark to which plane oerhead in tour?
Perchance the wandring birds which passed on through
As if they were but pieces of what? Yer
Allowed to say twas flotsam, though t'won't do.
And tell how um, the flight attendent's cue
Was one of those twa drinks...for one or two?
28Mar19c
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 3:53 PM UTC