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ryn Jul 2015
Lend me your eyes.
So I could fill them
with the bursting stars.
Telling tales of the spellbinding universe,
singing songs of exploding suns...
and of splintering quasars.

Lend me your thoughts.
So that if I may,
write of them.
Fantastical scribbles of love
and praise.
Meticulously lined
and carefully stitched...
with immaculate lace at the hems.

Lend me your breaths.
I'd catch them as they fall...
between the words you would say.
Merging mine with yours...
introducing colour...
and vigour
to my monochromatic world of
black, white and grey.

Lend me your heartbeats...
for mine thumps erratic.
As if beating in silent mock.
I depend on the steadiness in yours.
So they could usurp
the ticks of worldly clocks.

Lend me your hands.
Palms up as a sign,
perhaps as an invitation...
for me to take them.
And maybe...
hopefully fill them...
with mine...
Daniel Quigley Aug 2013
A sigh in the dark.
Past my jaded lips it rises
like a ghost, and I the host
of thoughts enamoured but unwanted,
Night takes my sight and unleashes vision
I watch (not my decision) the memories bloom to life.
Ethereal and hazy, those lazy summer days
Of hasty plans, promises, platitudes made;
childish to dream it could have stayed
the same.

Polite and awkward we shuffle in the light of day,
you think before you act and mind what you say
and if lucky enough you might get away
without blurting a thought from your head gone astray.

Why do eyes so bright bring such dark thoughts?
Why do we fear to take what we want?

A sigh in the dark.
Across chilled skin it spreads
like fire, this unspoken desire
between whispering sheets. Fingers grasp and twine,
I feel hers, she feels mine, as we search in the dark
This night air we’ll share,
in passion, with vigour,
seeking the trigger
to release.
To resolve.
Steve Page Apr 2017
Remember to think better,
think further,
think deeper
and with vigour.
Pepper your remember
with colour,
with light,
with friends who delight.
Boost your remember
with story,
with histories,
with cramped group selfies.
And remember your remembers
you drift off centre.
And there you'll discover
your defenders,
your never surrenders
against all contenders.
Then you'll remember
your forevers.
Remember -
it's your best self defense.
Remember.  It's the best self defense.
RK Aug 2018
I was thinking about you and reminding myself not to interfere but it’s so hard not to, when I love you.

Still, that gives me no special rights so I ended up minding my own business.
The whole saga unfolding before my eyes I tried to reach you fibrationally. I sent you love and kind wishes and many blessings
All the while realizing the dangerous situation you had encountered.
I saw you  losing your vitality!
I prayed this prayer for you !

Move away from the toxic atmosphere. That cut throat, manipulating back stabbing, "you scratch my back,  I’ll scratch yours, if you want to succeed in this life, attitude."

That environment is not good for you...

Money isn't everything! Pray tell me, if you lose your soul what good is the whole world?  It will be empty, destructive and counter productive.  If you say you need more you tell yourself a lie, you already have everything. Why create a lack, a void, where none exists? I watch you grow paler thinner-the light in your soul  dimmer, a bare glimmer of the one you truly are. The dis-ease is spreading like wild fire burning you out mercilessly, eating your liver. Destroying your beautiful vigour.  

I see it so clearly, will you hear, will you hear?

You see, I remember you! Yes, you had everything. Love, kindness and empathy, all these beautiful soul qualities. You knew how to share, care and be fair.
Now you are empty with lots of money, you have nothing and everything. What a ****** dilemma!

The degrees hard earned, and book knowledge but nothing really of true value, no equilibrium, balance.  
Too much of everything! And you told me you are full of despair. You laid you're heart and soul bare, a circle outside the square, yes I heard you.
You've travelled far, drive a fancy car. Nothing wrong with that, the world is your oyster.
Though in the grand scheme of things, do those  things really count for anything.  Albeit money itself isn't the real issue here. It's the belief that without it you are nothing. The words nothing and everything are so misunderstood! We all have to work out this stupid and harsh conundrum.

You included!

Thats if you want to know the true meaning of success, of being blessed, that is...

Can you hear, can you hear, can you hear?
The prayer answered ...

Oh! I hear, I hear! loud and crystal clear.
I now know, and of this you can be sure. It's taken a long time to work it all out. Now I'm here, and close enough to understanding the conundrum.

So yes,  I hear!

And I understand The dilemma! Not left or right,  but the centre. The circle squared if you like! I had to go through all the fear, oh! the terrible fear to find the truth. The courage to work though the pain the suffering.

I remember when I started out.  I didn't fit in at first.  I was so innocent, a lamb to the slaughter.  I became so competitive. I fought, driven by ambition, t'was like an addiction. I wanted more, worn down to the floor accumulating, name, position of authority, the status. The friends, the enemies! Who is who? Trying to figure it out was horrendous.  I lived in dread, under the threat I'd lose it all. The sleepless nights, the reflux, anxiety,  the psoriases, the fall.
But I kept climbing! Never staying too long on and any one rung, moving higher and higher. The ladder was made from steel, the building made from concrete blocks, while I, was born of only mere flesh and blood, a mortal being going under. Saved by grace, seeing my beautiful being, falling asunder.  

The awakening!

I'm clearing the slate of all the confusion, delusion, and getting to the emptiness where I now reside alone, not born only of flesh and blood,  but of spirit, of good. With God in my soul, I now know
the glory and wonder of the world.

Hmm, I'm not sure if this is suitable to post but I'm posting anyway. It's a dialogue in my head I had this morning. A friend and I have discussed these problems and issues and this morning I j found myself thinking of this person and marvelling how this dear one  came through such a rough period in life. All these musings are based on all the suffering the person went through!
Tenor Kemp Jan 2013
woke up old with cold bones creaking,
bright knives cut through shuttered blinds;
i gasped and breathed, remembered, rose
and crept out from the dark to find
a bag sat packed; the words came back:
"Come see me then, if you're alive."

the mist hung down from cloud and sky;
a sun sat brave but weak and low;
the trees so straight and tall remembered
summers young and long ago.

the engine spat and growled and every
tread declared its vigour still,
and soon the trees, the sun and mist
were lost behind the valley hill.

and on i sailed through burning winds
and grey and smokey white-lined seas.
i thought of all i'd say and all
you'd ask and what the past would mean,
and all those summer times we climbed
and hid among the valley trees.
23 July 2011
ryn Sep 2014
Toting the mysterious bundle and sporting a sore back
I drag my feet up the last few steps, expended of vigour
I almost couldn't resist prematurely looking through the sack
Remembering the words from the wise old seer

Grimacing I walk a slow gait to get to the table
Set the bundle down and relieve my weight onto a chair
Parched throat but wait longer I am unable
Curiosity takes charge and into the gift I will tear

Blood is pumping along with an increasing heart rate
Fingers scrambling clumsily over the strings that bind
Nails digging frantically into this package bearing my fate
Gnawing thoughts of uncertainty flooding my mind

At last my fingers win the battle that lasted
The final string has fallen... Obstinate knots all undone
I pick the cloth by the edges to have it unfolded
The contents inside reach out like rays of the sun

Corners of the cloth open up like a fully bloomed blossom
Exposing the treasure that lay solemn and quiet inside
Common objects we'd normally perceive as random
Petty things now important as they attempt to guide

I pick up the first and notice an engraving on it's stem
Between my fingers - an unassuming feathered quill
Barely legible, such little space the words do cram
"Here is your sword... Draw blood and let spill"

More riddles, I sought to examine the next
A flat bottomed vial filled with jet black ink
On it is a label with scrawling of time worn text
"Here is your blood; let flow what you think"

Lastly, lay bound up sheets of yellow stained parchment
They reek of age-old herbs; intoxicating slightly
At the top of the first, a note scribbled not so recent
"Within these pages, you must bleed to find Sanctuary"

Staring down at the objects laid in front of me
In hopes of discovering something I should miss
Then finally it struck me, so plain to see
I'm using the instruments now, writing to find release...
See "Dear Mystic"
See "Dear Seeker"
See "Sanctuary"
Neuvalence Oct 2018
I sank to the ground and all came to halt
Birds flocked east before all shook in vigour
Windows shattered under the weights of roofs
Stone homes toppled before acknowledgement
Clouds of dust rained jagged stones upon us
The turbulent waters foreshadowed more
For waves of sharp heights dominated us
They carried us, and whirled us intensely
Earsplitting cries now silenced by water
And when all had come to a halt once more
The bodies succumbed to the ocean's pull
I was supposed to die, but I hadn't.
FLVCTVS ( pronounced 'fluctus') is Latin for "wave".
Emeka Mokeme Jul 2018
Nothing is more important
than your sanity and your safety.
Achieving that is your choice and
your topmost priority.
You can say no not now,
or no not yet but don't forget you
will be burned if you don't give your
best to diligently work hard to achieve
it daily for the cosmic law fulfills.
What can be more important than
your well-being and happiness.
Do the right things for today and
tomorrow will be alright just for you.
Have you ever thought about helping
someone else in your own little way
to achieve their goals or excel in
their chosen projects.
Always remember that when you do help
with the abilities and resources available,
you are also be investing in yourself,
it's like an insurance,
a protective way that will guarantee
your place in the scheme of things.
Everyone is as unique and irreplaceable as the stars.
When your life is full of incessant activities,
you will not have time to check time.
You are filled with vim, vigour and vitality,
put it to work and be the best you can be.
And the universe will be kind to you
by giving you the right dividends to equate
the effort you put in place.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
ryn Jul 2014
Silly little dreamer with magnificent wings
Within his chest his heart beats with gold
This heart also bears of truth and stings
Stings with hurtful poison of eons old

He still marvels at his sun's majestic sight
But when dusk falls his sense took pride
The deceptions untold and half truths that bite
Shameful things that only devour him inside

Dusk falls with an exceptional ominous glow
The dreamer stayed even when his sun had set
He bellows his secrets as they will not show
Bellows with might, with disdain, with regret

In through the day he whispers of truth
He screamed of lies into the night
Lies he thought were harmless but uncouth
Truth that shone grim bereft of light

So what is truth and what is not
The dreamer cried hard for he is lost
He spat on the terms that in he has bought
Terms of which he is now paying the cost

It seems the dreamer did not come alone
There are four others that haunt in tow
He hides them away like skeleton and bone
He was afraid that his love would come to know

He once was young and know not of life
Born and bred to show respect and above
Against his will he foolishly wed a wife
His heart had died for he was never in love

He performed his bid as a dutiful partner
He feigned his interest as in it was hollow
A life so unjust, his grew devoid of vigour
Nevertheless three younglings would follow

It's too late now he has himself to blame
It's too late now he'll die an empty shell
It's too late now fear he'll bring forth shame
It's too late now breathing this life is truly hell

A heavy price for a mistake he made
He could've spoken and lived his way
Afraid of actions that father forbade
Nightly he mourns for his beatless heart so grey

He knows he can never swallow his plight
He's crying and desperation grew fat and stout
Unfathomably strong, reality's grip so tight
He devised feeble means that meant breaking out

It wasn't so simple to undo such a knot
It's not so easy for a vow to be forgot
If he stayed, his life would be for naught
Living through dreams was the help he'd sought

His travels are wide, limitless and grand
A portal to which he would seek to escape
Grants him strength for the life he has to withstand
Grants him healing for his wounds that gape

Truth be told he wasn't looking for anything
It was not love even if he had the chance
He craves for what solace his dreams would bring
Finding love was all sheer happenstance

In his dreamworld he drifts aloft
He blinds himself with music and art
He then meets his sun she was beckoning so soft
The colours returned for he has found his heart

Unbelievably pure and incredibly true
His heart could dance, flutter and even soar
Feelings he had that he never truly knew
Emotions so great he's never felt before

With this find he had found himself
Felt like he had just been born
He was locked away in a dark dank shelf
With conviction, his love he had announced and sworn

Common sense is saying, "You're digging your grave"
The dreamer insists on swimming in steep
"Swim up now and be worthy of a narrow save
We know not what lurks in waters so deep"

The dreamer listens for he's got to hear
He knows he needs to fight his doubt and fear
He knows one truth and it rings perfectly clear
He has found true love and it is here

Why am I such a silly little dreamer
On my knees, I've stripped myself bare
Only you can grant love, hope and a glimmer
Or you could send me to the depths and leave me there
Joseph Sinclair Sep 2018
There is a tendency among
those poets who may be very young
frequently to put in verse
those foreign phrases, or much worse
the now dead words of oh so ****** Latin
to boast of classrooms that they’ve sat in.

And just in case you’ve never heard ‘em,
Let’s reduce a few to ad absurdum.
It was amore a prima vista
until he left her for her younger sister
for, after all, who could resist her,
so moving on to secunda vista
he took that step and boldly kissed her,
behaviour that is hardly utopista.

The trouble with modus vivendi
is that it sometime rhymes with eye
but there are those who don’t agree
and think that it must rhyme with tea.
Who cares? It’s all the same to I.
Or should that be the same to me?

You may say it is not de rigueur
that I defend with so much vigour
what surely is no more than hubris
that I attribute to Confucius
for he surely ha detto tutto
albeit un po convoluto.

And everyone’s heard of carpe diem.
If not, then I have yet to see ‘em.
But I prefer to seize a waist
which may be thought somewhat unchaste
though far more likely to have shocked ‘em
would be to carpe in the noctem.

Perhaps you think it’s ipso facto
that I’m intolerant of lacto
unless it comes directly from the breast.
I think it’s better that the rest
of this is left to your own opinatus
for which I offer no blank cartus.

Then there’s the modus of my own vivendi
that I indulge in cacoethes scribendi
the itch to write for which I daily
scratch myself or play my ukulele
which is my form of modus operandi
before I pour myself a king-size brandy.

And thus we leave this boring dull citare,
by this time you have certainly grown quite weary
of any further venture into tedium
Or as ***** Harry might say, fac ut gaudeam
For after all a day senza sunlight
Might altrettante facilmente be night
Farook Suyarov Sep 2018
A month or two, till now, i hated gnawing sunrays,
rushed to a spot of shade,
waited impatiently for the time to come,
when the cool air would tame the raging sun.
As the summer aproached its end,
i ******* find the fever to hate.
I loathed 'him' much,
but it gives me pain
to see 'his' vigour fade away.
And i can't stand the sight of 'his' draining eyes,
pathetic choking of failing life.
Orchid May 9
As you sail away into the abyss,
Our fate is sealed by true loves kiss,
A lie, repeated, thrashed pon' waves of guilt,
Sweet as nectar lies, in the babies bottle of milk,

Gaze as the flames dance with a vigour,
Shaken, boiled with Jesus's liquor,
Condensed upon glass, upon glass shall condense,
Bittersweet tears, of which sins may repent

Palm trees whistled as sky held Luna,
The commoners spat and praised 'Alleluia',
Let him breathe, let him sit, let him praise, let him run,
King of the Jews, your chariot has begun,

Pockets cupped and saved torn bibles,
Caressing the minds of the bad disciples,
Lucifer created hell for their own protection,
A crown of thorns worn with failed redemption,
Choderlos Aug 2018
The sun sets on the little huts
Made of mud and roofs thatched
The African child
With smiles on his face
He hasn't a cause to worry
Running to and fro in the scorching sun
Lost in the midst of tall trees
Humming to the gentle breeze
He is a happy child

He is oblivious of the hard truth
That a sad future awaits him
Full of challenges and misery
Little does he know
Those smiles he once had
Widely drawn on his face
May dissolve into frowns of anguish

Committing neither an offence nor crime
There may come a time
The beautiful fantasies
The hopes, dreams and aspirations
Everything he once believed in
May come tumbling down

Nevertheless, he is relentless
There is a ray of hope
In this utter darkness
Full of vigour and energy
By might or magic
He will fight his way through
He is the African child.
Telling the tale of the underprivileged Africa child through poetry; from personal experience and encounters.
Debbie Lydon Jul 15
Glaze my mind's last bough with gold,
For it is waning like a face that has been carved by sorrow,
Reside, perched upon it like a robin in the cold,
Who's bold colour can't help but alight hope for tomorrow.

Though I wander listlessly within this bleak time,
And a daily load upon my back has been thieving my vigour,
There is a guile still inside that is rightfully mine,
And an idea, born of strength, that is infinitely bigger.

I have been built upon a strong foundation,
Your attempt at erosion can do nothing or little,
A dignified and discerning heart beats within,
I will tell you in earnest, it is neither breaking nor brittle.

My sky does still have dark clouds to be cleared,
But such beauty they endow to a distant position,
Suffering has not marred those colours revered,
Tragedy and triumph are allied in this, life's war of attrition.
Yenson Aug 2018
We shall wipe you OUT
We will ERASE you
We are the children's of Cain and that is what we do

I come from the lands of  the Baobab tree and Cocoa Tree
Steep in the tradition of revering life and nature all free
By my wits and honest endeavours toiled and earned my fee
Never harmed nor injured never stole even a penny wee
Paid my dues and gave when I could always busy as a bee

Now YOU the children's of Cain spake and declared
We shall wipe you OUT
 We will erase YOU

I come from a land that knows parched earth and hunger
Where great rivers flow yet clean water comes in little beaker
Proud animals run free and only the rodents are for hunter
Trees are fertile with fruits aplenty and vegetables are litter
In gleeful kin and merry we share harvest with each other

Now you the children's of Cain spake and declared
We shall wipe you OUT
We will erase YOU

What is my crime pray tell me when in honest endeavour
I gave and shared my wages and food to an errant neighbour
Who repaid my kindness by robbing mine with cruel vigour
And whilst I remorsed such vileness with fervent pained ardor
They riposted, a trip back to your jungle is what we will conjure

Now YOU the children's of Cain spake and declared
We shall wipe you OUT                               
We will erase YOU

Children's of Cain know nothing but death and destruction
You came to ours and plundered all you could with ruction
You stole, fornicated, ruined and destroyed with glib seduction
Modern times has merely refined your vainglorious disposition
Distinguished misrulers, liars and evil masters of misappropations

We shall wipe you OUT
We will erase YOU       
Children's of Cain OTHERS know all YOU do is ****
Like your FATHER killed his BROTHER
Like your FATHER killed his guiltless BROTHER
Jo Swan Oct 2018
Alone I sail across the formidable sea,
Many men have drowned in this stormy weather!
Will the waves devour me to my death?
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?

My mind is fatigued by feeling of doubts
As my body has fought many hours to survive
And navigate the dinghy in search of land-
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?

Shivering silently in the darkness
My spirit crushed by the ravenous rain!
Should I surrender to the sea of pain?
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?

In the brink of suffering and strife,
I realise I am powerless against nature-
Only heaven can bless me with the breath of life.
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?

In the chaos, I made a personal prayer
And felt my soul submit to a serene state
As I ask the Lord to decide my fate-
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?

For the first time in my vulnerable state-
I felt the love of the Lord embrace my spirit
And all the fears and doubts dissipate –
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?

I realise life should move in a motion
Where love tames the wild weather of life
And relinquish all dark emotions-
So the force of the Wind of Destiny can awake!

With this new knowledge,
My spirit renews with vibrant vigour
As the truth of life finally been acknowledge
The force of the Wind of Destiny has awaken!

The sun wakes up from her sleep
The waves gently rocks the sail boat
The cloud calms down from her weep.
The force of the Wind of Destiny has awaken!

I feel my spirit soar
Like seagulls roaming across the sky
For I finally tasted the joy of God’s grace.
The force of the Wind of Destiny has awaken!

What lands shall be discovered?
I do not know what tomorrow will behold
Only courage and determination it will be uncovered
The force of the Wind of Destiny has awaken!

Staring sentimentally at the Sunrise
I feel the fiery breaths of the wind
Blowing my sail boat across the vast ocean.
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?
Jayne E May 17
WARNING. this poem deals with subject matter that may disturb or trigger some people. It was set as a cathartic exercise for me, by a wonderful wise caring writing mentor of mine, to try help exorcise some historical demons, and in doing so, lay some pain and painful memories, nightmares, etc to rest. It addresses child **** and ****** abuse & torture, so I felt a warning necessary, and apologise in advance for any emotions or discomfort or pain it pulls up.  I don't usually like to offer explanations of my poetry preferring the reader assign their own meaning, formulate their own emotional response, but had to make an exception here.  Thank you for reading, it is often a 'taboo' subject matter, but it needs to be talked about. J.C.x

The Smell of the Monster

It's the smell of a monster,
dressed up as a man
the kind you would smile for,
and extend a hand.
He smells of things longed for,
a confusion occurs.

It's the smell of a day spent
playing at the beach,
of sea, sand, salt and sunshine,
in his tousled blonde hair
like lemon blossoms blown past
on nights summer breeze,
and of the deep dark earth
beneath these trees

It's a whiff oh so small subtle
of pinetarsol and bleach,
maybe that will alert her
to this lecherous leech.

It's of clean skin in sunshine,
it really just smells all wrong,
as he acts out for this child
all that for which his sick head longs

Smell the ******* roughhewn
by his long fingered hands
and the masculine musk
when his limp **** now stands

His sweat becomes acrid
as he applies himself with vigour
smell my tears on my cheeks
as I assume death like rigour,
tasty salty drips
from my cheeks to my lips.

His breath now quick blows
nicotine to my nose,
as he tightens his grip
here I go here I go,
silent calls for my mother
mother, mummy, mum please
and the smell of his ***
was a new scent for me.

Smell now the blood as it drips
down my legs down my thighs,
he has unpealed my screams
deadened my sighs and my eyes.

I can smell my own sweat my blood
and my fear, and now I smell him stronger, as he moves closer near.

Time to clean up this big
mess of me he has made
in the bath filled with bleach,
and disinfectant of pine, imperial leather soap, baby powder and then,
applied Vaseline
to the **** torn clean,
so it's all better for next time
he calls on me,
to return to the horrors
******* to that tree.

For now it's all sweetness, he plays his part well, pajamas and tuck-ins, a kiss on my forehead and then "night night" and one last whiff of his stink, as I lie murdered, in my child's bed
....chasing sleep...

J.C. 13/03/2019.
Michael Apr 7
Time Expired and thus Unfettered

Like dusty files unopened on their shelves - serene and calm;
Behind locked doors these memories of war lived in my mind.
Distant images, long archived, evolved in Vietnam
But buried ‘neath the present of a very different kind.

But now those dusty files have tumbled to the ground.
Upended by the vigour of this fine new freedom I have found.
Without the shackles of that other life I find
The memories fresh and sometimes pleasant to my mind.

And so I take them up and dust them off these files long hidden.
Peruse each ancient, tattered memory page by page.
And let their content to my mind project unbidden
The flickering image of a long lost distant, youthful age.

And with these verses I have made for you, shaped by my pen, a light.
That you too might view the shadowed contents of my new found files.
Described between the lines of each is what it was to fight
A war, the grim visage of which was seldom wreathed with smiles.

But I conjure you look closely at these careful, recent woven lines of mine.
This tapestry conceals ideas that oft’ belie the written word.
Look underneath to seek the reason why my thoughts sometimes repine
Against a patterned camouflage which sometimes makes them seem absurd

Chimerical these hidden images that tumble on the edge of time?
Yes, but if you use the mirror of your own reality to construe,
To grasp the presence of that conflict these days almost always called a crime
Then might you judge these portions that I gladly offer you.
Written in 1988 when suddenly I realised that no longer being a soldier I could speak my mind.
Feggyr Citack Jun 29
-faking breaking news

The United Kingdom will become the 51st state of the USA. This decision has not been officially announced yet, but it will soon be done, according to our informal source near Prime Minister dr. Farage. "A newly independent nation needs a strong arm to guide its steps towards prosperity, " our beloved PM recently stated, so this move should not come as a surprise.

Strong support
We all know dr. Farage's sympathy for a strong and straight approach, which has only increased during the past three years of versatile and energetic priority swapping. The tremendous successes of this period were achieved also by the practical and moral support of our American friends. Therefore we are convinced that the proud accession to this successful union of states will re-energise our traditional institutions, thus supplying new vigour to the independence we won in the glorious year 2019.

Just sign
It is expected that mr. Kushner, US secretary of foreign affairs and acting vice-president, will soon invite our beloved PM to sign the treaty. US officials made it clear to us there is no need for the UK to worry about the details.The terms of the treaty will be completely defined at Trump Super Tower; all the UK will have to do is sign. This will help the UK to seamlessly become a highly successful and inseparable part of the prosperous United States.

Highly valuable
The safety of the UK will be guaranteed by the permanent presence of the US navy at Scapa Flow, where joint operations will be performed with Russian or EU fleets. And the Irish will be happy: the Irish border will be effectively removed since many (if not most) Irish people have become Americans long ago, and for many years the Republic of Ireland has been successfully advised by great US-based privately owned firms. These firms, that are also active in the UK, will turn the UK into a highly valuable hub between Europe and the US. For the first time in history EU citizens will be able to reach the USA by car only, via Ireland or the Calais-Dover tunnel. This will also be the preferred access method since public transport, and public services in general, are expected to be dismantled - for the benefit of us all.
Let's make sure this little story will be fake news indeed in three years time.
Dr Peter Lim Sep 2018
It's not the spring season yet
the winter-ending snow
still falls though in slow
and weak tiny droplets
each like a gentle reminder
nature has its own course
to follow
(there's no cause for rush
winter's story is not over)--

the night somehow
seems longer, and weaker
are the moon and stars-
the leaves they quiver
and the trees by the deserted shore
by the winds are tossed
forward and backward
frantically to and fro
while the tides
they intermittently roar-

the heart is restless and anxious
in waiting--each moment seems
longer than years, so cruel and vexatious
but patience and faith is tested and called for-

love should not question
it must stay strong
whatever the season
however sad its drawn-out song-

amidst life's turbulent throng
the heart should rest steadfast
love should overcome every storm
through all episodes of tears outlast-

but the time shall come
when winter its last leaves
will have been cast
the grass will revive
flowers will begin to bud
branches will stretch out
in vigour to reach the sun
frost will melt away
from the stream which will rush
to welcome thirsty birds around
all nature will be a-flush
with the brightness
of light and colour
with warm- spreading glades
and dance with the musical sound
of life born anew--all in consonance
with the heart blessed in contentment-

the time has come
spring has blossomed
love has waited
but such glory
it has won.

— The End —