Tsunami day - poetry
A Poem - By Lorraine Kember
It was a day like any other and mother, father, sister, brother, were haulage out the customs of their land. When abruptly devoid of warning, Look after Description came calling, shook the earth and stole the ocean from the sand.
Many gazed in awe already their world was torn asunder, when the colossal wall of water reached the shore. They, inane that the life they knew was ending and that this day would adjustment the world for ever more.
Frantic now and running; they coupled the fleeing throng, many drowned along the way, but the water bore them on. Nature showed no favorites on that auspicious day, countrymen and tourists, fell victim to her spray. The young, the old, the meek the bold, fixed up in its deadly swirls; along with the houses boats and cars, floated men, women, boys and girls.
The repercussion was destruction as far as the eye could see, babies torn from mothers arms were found in the debris. Bodies floated everywhere, and survivors called the name of a loved one who had moved out and would never be seen again.
We watch these similes on TV and it's hard to comprehend the enormity of this calamity and where the consequence of it will end. The Tsunami damage has touched the hearts of Nations and we mourn for the thousands who have died. Our judgment are with the survivors, calculating the millions of tears they have cried.
As well as the aid and the funds we give; we also hope and pray, that a little categorical can be gained, from the tragedy of this day. No be of importance our gender, colour or creed or the kingdom of our birth, we are after all fellow humans alive on this Earth.
World peace ought to be our best goal, its price not too high to pay, in commemoration of all who died on Tsunami day.
Poem on paper by: Lorraine Kember - Cause of "Lean on Me" Blight all through a Carer's Eyes. Lorraine's book is on paper from her be subjected to of caring for her dying spouse in the hope of portion others. It includes insight and argument on: Preventative Grief, Accord and identifying pain, Pain Management and Symptom Control, Chemotherapy, Calming Care, Characteristic of Life and dying at home. It also skin tone excerpts and poems from her individual diary. Decidedly optional by the Blight Council. "Lean on Me" is not accessible in bookstores - For exhaustive information, Doctor's recommendations, Reviews, Book Excerpts and Ordering Ability - visit her website http://www. cancerthroughacarerseyes. jkwh. com
Memoirs of a Wastelands Rim [a Poem: now in Spanish and English]
Memoirs of a Wasteland's RimIt still was light when she paused at the wasteland's rim- Over, the rim rest like a sleeping brute, a inexpressive frame Adjacent to the blue where early stars hung like oil lamps Hanging from old beams and shade?the stiff frame Her balance trapped the beams, as she had fallen onto it Alone, she watched the forenoon, climbing about her A rolling stone woman, discernible by life, and aslant dreams With beginning of hurt and molded muscle on her face Her be included impressed anti the made of wood frame, She tried to jump, and lost her balance, execution like a bird Now sipping the gloom in the ledge and traumatized hopes She yielded beforehand the slow early payment of sunset Blood dripped, with her dying darkness And a pink moon hurled a flame across The dim clouds, burning all the way through the sky The beset sky above her?Crossing the valley's floor her eye absorbed it Rocky images, main points Thrusting herself up brashly from to the ledge The painted crack of dawn blushed over the rim Her brows and nose, face alongside the building material stone Massive injuries was attractive form, Her line hovering so apathetically crossways the sun It was too great a task-to die alone?she wished now She had not jumped?a thousand feet below, yet to go. Too much for any woman in a lost world Out of the weak wood her mind had peace; She knew soon it would all be over-alas Mute and protesting adjacent to life's uselessness A narrow path lay below her little body Between death and attainment, a careless foot The rocks beneath her weakening, she plunged Plunged to her death, in the figurine hands of the valley Thinking of it, as she fell, belief with a smiled, Saying, looking up-dead ahead of her echoes: 'Time is short?time is short?time is short!' When they found her, her face was courageous of falling.
Out of the eight poems provided here [all beforehand unpublished], four are Poetic Prose, a few Creative [what I call Vsionary anyhow], a few Free Verse, and a few with more form and structure, more carefully to the Auden style of: stanza, musical rhythm, and rhyme. In axiom that, I do deem all the poems are handing over a rich complex of meaning, some of them painfully close bond among pleasure and destruction.
Shadows of the Andes; Ollantayambo; and Cesar Vallejo [Poems in English and Spanish]
1) Dimness of the Andes [or: Song to the Andes]I shall blend-in, into theMountains- Into the faintest thinShadowsof the mountains! Like the moss on moistenedStoneLike a leaf blown far fromHome?(freshly fallen)!I shall blend-in, clingingTo the mountains- Into its faintest thinShadowsNote: when I indoors back home from Peru, my 7th trip in five years [April, 2005], I had spend about 30-days this time on the trip. I visited the Mantaro Valley, Huancayo, and drove all through the Andes.
There are many times I set up barriers and walls, invisible if you come too close, And then you hit them.You admiration what happened.
"I heard what you said, Red. Yet, I have to disagree.
Live For Today...
Isn't that what they say?But what does that mean?There's no classification that mayanswer that question..
In The Midst Of All
In the midst of darkness, there is light. In the midst of evil, there is virtue.
Four Poems: Garner of Annoyed Farm animals [Katrinas Pathway]
Four Poems: Katrina's PathwayHarvest of Enraged Horses ((Dedicated to: Katrina)) crisis)It has happened before: Nearby and afar, Where the four-horses of Apocalypse With their burning nostrils Breathed in the fury of the winds Only to vomit out, disaster; - Then galloped away, Against pale faces!..
It Was Not Me
It was not me as I am now. It was not me as I was then.
Testimony to the Night [In English and Spanish]
In the quiet of the cold night- In its deep northern skies, Dim are the lights, in its coldEvening frost?! Even the stars of the arctic Seem without a sound stone frozen!Here, here is where you find Peace and the beast within-! Remote, no ears or wordsTo confusion the mind To embed the throat; Here, here is where you die?(for a moment).Here, the sky has eternal eyes Eyes with cosmic tides Tides that never rest: they warWith the Universe- Likened to a dark deep abyss; Endless and never resting?Here my eyes seek and search In countless hours, ebbing and Sweeping the heavens aboveNumbing, changeless- Are the cosmos, the heavens? Here resides a curious peace?Here, resides a alien peace With an army of stars to defeat Shinning, like a ghost in the darkThe ebbing, eldritch dark; Time has no consequence here, Here, resides a strange, peace?Cold and oddly numb are my feet, As I look up, upon the many bridges One star bridging the next-as if,If Kings and Queens were Guarding them-the Hosts- O-Yes! A strange, bizarre peace?Ah! Praise, praise be to thee, to thee Flaming, burning firmaments-ye, Ye, prompt me not, of the wars I left,Of the foes, divine immortals?The enemies that never rest Ah! Praise, praise be to thee, to theeI hear music, harmony from afar (there) There are storms buried in a storehouse, For tomorrow-war beyond, beyondOrion's dust?perpetual dust; There, there the sun is dim to bleak.
Four Poems: Grendels Nature...the Racetrack...Counting days...[Now in English and Spanish]
English Version1) Grendel's DivorceYou must know that I do not hateAnd that I hate you, Because the whole thing dead has twoSides; A sound is one arm of the quiet, Ice has its warm half.I hate you in order to start hating you To begin life again And never to stop hating you: That is why I do not hate you yet.
Since Youve Been Gone...
My life has changedin so so many waysIt seems to at all times bein a state of disarray..
Man Unbowed [A poem]
Man UnbowedUnbowed by sin, the world of man, stands Upon his feet he gapes into the sky, The apathy of centuries in his eyes, And in his heart the curse of the old world. Who made him dead to love and God? A thing that breathes only for wants and needs, With a lack of emotion, a brother to the fox? Who tightened and short of up his serrated brow? (To make him look so grand, so proud-so tall.
Poetry "Reborn" Emerges In Adventure movie Mystery Novel
Since Mohamed Ali-then Cassius Clay-announced that he had printed "The world's straight poem," I have known that I would be a poet. "ME? WHEE!" His celebratory assertion evoking shivers surrounded by my bothered teenaged identity, for I reasoned in rhyme.
Catherine Daly reviews Antidotes for an Alibi
Amy King Antidotes for an Alibi BlazeVox Books ISBN 0-9759227-5-0 2005These poems read to me like poetry versions of flash fiction. Now, I like flash fiction very much, but I like the more fabulistic kind.
Beautiful Dreamer, Stephen Foster, Americas First Folk Song Writer
"Beautiful Dreamer" was in print by Stephen Cultivate just already his death in 1864 at age 37. The song became one of his most famed and most popular.
The Goat and the Rope [a Poem: in Spanish and English]
The Goat and the Ropewhere there were devils I saw none. nothing.
Two Poems and an Breakdown ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']
Two Poems and an Chemical analysis ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']WitnessMy face belongs to whoever sees it Everything has a gist but life Even the bugs strive for existence God saved man, from God Ghosts have lonely sins Her bones are stones Up and down the hill Gardens blossom Spotless skies Dramatists August I can not rest!..
How to Write Bad Poetry
"All bad poetry springs from actual feeling."--Oscar WildePeople write poetry for a embarrassment of reasons, but this commentary has a sharpened arrowhead aimed absolutely at the fingertips of amateur poets who wish to be available yet decline to learn the attributes of a well-crafted poem.
Azra, Azra, Wake up Azra. Wake up Azra, It is time to go.
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