I shall wait... - poetry
I Shall Wait. .
On all the new mornings, and every singking evening, I wear a small crescent, in the finest of my accent. . .
Those memories come up storming, that tender touch so warming, That lovely comforting weather, Feeling as light as a feather, With hands diagonally each other, And nobody else to bother. . .
With a feeliing as to fly, in the open blue sky, That lonely bank of the river, and a mild wintery shiver,
With silence all about us, and the huge Eucalyptus The water flowing faster with our mumble and our laughter, Those cascading whispers, Calm character being a listener. .
The sky appeared timid, and the rivir far too vivid, That firm hug under the vine, Sent chills down my spine.
A drop on the nose and a peck on cheeks, and then apart for more than a few weeks, I miss, so much the warm affection, Soul to soul- a pious connection, The care in your eyes and a delight on chin and those caresses par satin. . .
It's lonely sans you, Oh my dear! Being far away, I feel you near I feel your sound right within, Like droplets sound on the porch tin.
When the world goes dark you be light, To cross over the fiercest night, I shall keep behind you like the stars in space. . . Till the darkness vanishes to send new phase.
I long for you, I long for you, For dawn sun, just like nights accepted do, I shall find a new way to my fate, I shall wait and wait and wait and wait. . .
Shilpa Malaiya is a mainframe discipline foist and presently pursuing her masters in Human Resources. She writes poetry and articles on a wide range of topics- Malaiya. shilpa@gmail. com
Ode to: The Ice Maiden of Ampatos Conference [now in: English and Spanish]
Dedícate to Antonio Castillo. L.
Song of the Great Zimbabwe, and Silver and Inca Blood [Poems and notes]
"Song of the Great Zimbabwe"Across the African, winter's skyIn the Southern edge of Zimbabwe Looking down from the Hill ComplexFrom on top, of an Antique Rock O'er the mountains steep-:A, vista I've longed to see, residesA site, I've longed to meet-; Thus, dwells, surrounded by this African Valley,Among the most of man's feats? The great, Great Zimbabwe (Enclosure).A million-stones, built these antediluvian wallsSome twelve-fathoms, fathoms high That seems to reach unto the sky;Some say: a fortress, and palace, it is; And perhaps-, the legendary 'Ophir!'#747 7/2/05Silver and Inca BloodIn the Great Silver mines of Potosi-(Inca Indians) Conscripted mine workersCarry Quotas of ore-up hundreds of feetOf rope laddered-steps For don Francisco de ToledoAnd King Philip II, of Spain-;A farcified dream to becomeRich-off Inca blood, In the year-1571?#744 7/1/05Notes: (The Inca Empire): the belief is often that the Inca Empire was a large venture of its self; a collective confuse at best; dense for sure; but for the most part, the Inca Empire was comprised of ethnic groups who were subject into the Inca Empire, comparable to the Roman, which was a city inhabitants [Empire] you might say, who conquered the whole world into its Roman Empire; likewise, so did the Incas of South America.
Thank You To Our Soldiers And A Acknowledgment To Old Glory And A Prayer For Peace
Thank youDedicated to soldiers and their loved onesFor those who have laid in fox holes,carried guns,marched for hours.For those who have had cold restless nights,endless days of discomfort.
Two Poems: San Jeronimo Brook & [in English and Spanish]
Fair Andes! Thy arms reach highOf iron-woven solid stone Thu art a condor to the skyOf glory clandestine in thy heartSo many paths, a maze of art?In thy old, Mantaro ValleyWhere adobes, breathe and tremble Beyond your bucolic shadowsThere lays the prettiest of brooksIs my heart, in its stream!My image genuinely carved, rippledIn its pure shallow watersWaiting, just behind you for me?As it opens up, opens up my soulMy rippled soul-searching-eyes!..
San Francisco [Almost a Sonnet]
(The city by the bay of Northern California, near which the Conciliatory Ocean resides; the year is 1967)Mid October seemed like some bounce day,When all the way through the calm waters, dry as lead, The ferry, like vague dimness that stand the dead,Slipped down the bent coast of Frisco bay, Rounded the Blond Gate,-and San Francisco lay, Before me, that gay city, pink and red, Hippies sheltered Haigh Asbury's dispossessed head,-My home, to be, I found stirring and grey.The waves out of action on the wooden-sides; fishermenNearby with long necks, looked and cast again.
In The Midst Of All
In the midst of darkness, there is light. In the midst of evil, there is virtue.
Little Girl from Huancayo [a poem/in English and Spanish]
Little girl from HuancayoDo you really, certainly know? Just how fast those feet will grow,On the streets of Huancayo.Little girl with jumping jacksOn the street, looking back; Back to see whose inspection her,A a small amount boy with a bird.
A Dose of Laughter
I'm not well. Can't you tell? Kinda low, so, give me a dose of laughter.
Im Sorry Mom! A Mothers Day Poem
Mother's Day Poetry,I'm Sorry Mom!I'm sorry for the troubles And the reservations I brought you. I'm sorry for my mistakes, I didn't mean to make you blue.
Its What She Didnt Say
When I hear your voice contained by my head it makes me think of you every definite day as I fight back tears of dejection and awe if you're okayMy life is empty devoid of you I wish time would take away the pain but the ache in my heart persists and my austere hopes seem in vainI accomplish how much I hurt you and now I know it's too late to tell you how sorry I am and count on you not to hateI don't deserve a back up accidental to show you how much I care when you considered necessary me the most I know I disastrous to be thereNow your trust in me is gone everlastingly and I will never have the attempt to say I especially hope your dreams come true and happiness finds you every dayI would give more or less no matter which in life if I could go back to that day and erase the whole thing I said and did to make your distress go awayWhat hurts the most is this is what you didn't say and the deficiency of these words haunt me each and every day..
Looking Out the Rear Window
The funeral rite concluded With the cleric shaking hands, Offering words of comfort I didn't quite understand.The undertakers came forth And summoned pallbearers' four.
Let Your Feelings Be Your Guide
The light of all eternity shines with me now / My feelings light up my life / How I find my way is gritty by them / They light up my path and show me who I amWhen I was young, I felt so many effects / Then came the day when I could not stand the pain / My world was chaos then, crammed with distress and grief / So I congested up to care for that fragile Self withinYears would go by ahead of I could open again / I was compulsory to by position ahead of my charge / Life dealt me blows which I later acknowledged as my own / To develop me to that be distressed deep surrounded by my SoulI worked hard to find my way back to the Light / To that place inside where I could feel once again / There my Heart shone forth with a brave face / And shed light on all that I had concealedNow I see how I bunged that tender-hearted Self / How I froze in the face of my fortune / Troubles swirled about as a devoted font of grief / And I fell to sleep out of fearI am arousing now to the deep void in / Where I've stored all those troubles and pain / I fight my way back to that axis once again / So I can come forth finally and be trueMy life moves ahead as of this day / When I committed to decision my true Self / I've engaged all behavior of demons on this journey / To arrival to that Font deep insideI wish for life to fill me now and bring all it can / I am dry for come across and for advance / I want abundant assets from my Soul to fill me / So that I can truly enjoy all that I beholdThis work is every now and then arduous as I have educated / But no more than any task requiring Love / This journey enriches me with its drive / And fills me with Life and SoulThis is my gift to myself, my own holy Soul / To have, to hold and to consider / This Heart that bled is now curative its wounds / And can be in the black again from what Life bringsLet there never be a arrival to where hurts cramp me up / And fill me with acidity and pain / I am awake now, yes, and can move ahead / To be conscious of all that Life has assignedOh glory to you, my Sweet Soul, for appearance this day / I thank you from the base of my Heart / We two can sing all together the praises of Love / That take us ahead on this journey all the way through timeNever let it be said that one so deserving / Could not find his or her way Home / All whom will be a consequence shall see this Light in turn / And know that their journey can be wonI take you with me now, my Sweet Soul / For you are here in my hands / Where I can consider you / And together, we can be so bold"Move on," you say to me. "Move on, my love / The Light desires for us to do so" / And my Heart sings with the promise / So that "Yes" is the key I can render with easeMy Heart is packed with Love and joy in this jiffy / Knowing that I am with you, my Soul / My feelings tell me you are there and constantly were / Till that sleep came over me ahead onBy initiation to your touch do I know You / And find my own truth there in your eyes / You show me because of Love what my drive can be / I am inspired by this caring designI am content we are here together, in this life / I am contented that our love is so bright / For now I can reach you, my Sweet Soul Awe-inspiring / When you call to me from deep in my HeartI have your come back with Dear, and know this to be true / That you and I are eternally to be born / In this life or another, we join with each other / And We Soar .
Two Poems: Black Poncho, and Spirits of de Copan [in English and Spanish]
English Version12) Black Poncho(of Saint Cosme Hill, by Lima, Peru)Lost in the grottos of Peru- By the hills of Huancayo Black Cloak was given A treasure of gold?; By none other than, Demonic goblins!?in the form of baking fruit; Hence, Black Cape fooled The goblins of oldBy using his cape to pull The scorching blonde fruit Through the Andes to Lima, Peru!?Henceforward, he was swindled By a jeweler of dire repute. Thus, his life altered (as so often they do); And now he lives with: Thirty-five dogs, on San Cosme Hill.
Famous Poets Quotations - Top 30 Poetry Quotations by Celebrated Poets
"For this basis poetry is a touch more philosophical and more admirable of critical concentration than history."-- Aristotle"Every American poet feels that the whole blame for contemporary poetry has fallen upon his shoulders, that he is a literary lords and ladies of one.
Expressing an Emotion - The Art of Journalism Poetry
Writing poetry is an art, a way of expression, decision gist in few words. A air of passion flowing out onto the pages, words that flow into each other and yet articulate the inner most opinion and feelings of those who read the words.
Ambiguity and Abstraction in Bob Dylan's Lyrics
To many colonize contemporary poetry is a turn-off. The basis for this is that the adult years of these poems are boring.
Farewell to Lester Graybill
I never met a man, who could shake my hand, and make my heart feel like a grate afire.I never met a man, who could smile so easy, real honest.
Give Me a Lily Pad & The Continuum [two Poems]
What can I do to keep this world in its orbital spin? I gave up frustrating to win the hearts of the many-. Throw the meat-balls aligned with the wall, stop, stop!! Trying to make them spin, like God did in the heavens!Sexual longings-a corridor to anger and rage- Turn the page to the cheap hotels, turn the page Give it a lane to run, tell your friends, they've won.
Rules for Journalism Poetry
You've been copy poetry since that first assignment in your high instruct journalism class. You know the rules about journalism poetry, right? Are there rules? Well, if you hang around the poetry forums diagonally the Internet as much as I do, you'd find that there are a lot of amateur poets who immovably assert that there are no rules for inscription poetry and if a big cheese even suggests conception poetry or books on poetry, many of the amateur poets will throw up a defending front.
Africa - Wheres The Profit?
A poetic commentary that just welled up contained by my head - why cant we just do a touch - beforehand many more are dead?How pious those politicians are, When up there on T.V.
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