We also look at the poetry that forms part of the earthquake archive of the museum of Anchorage. We also bring you information about the Wirral Festival of Firsts. Independence Day — Finland This week, Finns celebrate both Sibelius Day and Independence Day, and the question of the national anthem has once more resurfaced. It was just two years ago when the leaders of Create an ebook with your poems for free. Write down the books you read. Save your favorite poems, authors and posts. Or if you are already a registered user: In happy homes the brown oak-bough Vies with the red-gemmed holly now; And here and there, like pearls, there show The berries of the mistletoe.
A sprig upon the chandelier Says to the maidens, "Come not here! Within his chamber, dim and cold, There sits a grasping miser old.
He has no thought save one of gain,— To grind and gather and grasp and drain. A peal of bells, a merry shout Assail his ear: For "Christmas Day" is no mere name. No, not for you this ringing cheer, This festal season of the year. And not for you the chime of bells From holy temple rolls and swells. In day and deed he has no part— Who holds not Christmas in his heart! Today we drink buckwheat tea.
My poetic side - Post your poetry!
Today I have heat in my apartment. Today I think about the word chada in Korean. It means to be filled with. It means to kick. Today you wear the cold. My heart kicks on my skin. Someone said winter has broken his windows. The heat inside and the cold outside sent lightning across glass.
Today my heart wears you like curtains. Did you carry the empathy to cry at little things you saw on the street or in a commercial, so much so that you believe this world to be lost? That you saw life as one big slap in the face? I still try my best everyday to make you proud, It breaks my heart constantly to think I didn't when you were here.
But I work hard, and I always say my "please" and "thank you"'s, and I live by your example of always trying to help anyone in need. It might not make up for the demons that I struggle with, but atleast I still fight them, right? I lost some years there where I should've died, and sometimes I wish I had, but I didn't. And to be honest, it's not for me, or for my family, for love or sunsets, or dogs or any of the things that bring me up to a solid "content.
You fight until your last breath. I've thought this a million times in my head, but I'll say it now, you were always right about everything. As teenage girls, we challenge our mothers at every turn and decision, convinced we are mature and capable of making decisions, and then we say hurtful things when we don't get our way. So you deserve to hear it, you were always right. I wish I could tell you face to face. I would tell you how much I miss you, more than either of us could've ever predicted. I would tell you how blessed I feel to have had such an amazing mother. I would apologize for judging you for the drinking, I would tell you it took me forever to realize, but eventually I accepted my mother was human just like everyone else, and just like everyone else, myself included, you made mistakes.
Above all else, I would tell you that I love you more than you'll ever know. I'll be turning twenty-nine next month, which means I have one year left of smoking.
Today in history
I didn't forget my promise to you, I'll quit on my thirtieth birthday. I'll continue looking out for my sister to the best of my abilities, even though she can be impulsive and brash on occasion. I'll continue to show empathy and kindness to as many people as possible, just like you would've wanted.
- Writing poetry made me a better (copy)writer.
- Join the largest poetry community.
- The Firebird and Other Russian Fairy Tales (Dover Childrens Classics);
- Writing poetry made me a better (copy)writer – The Writing Cooperative.
- Kinky Ink (Spanking, Tattoo, Piercing).
And finally, one day I hope to keep the promise I made to you so many years ago: I promise to try and be happy. Extremely personal write, but needed to get it out. If you're lucky enough to still have a mother, tell her you love her today and thank her for existing. The sun hidden behind the clouds, is hidden from me The unseen sun, uncovers ardor and light, to swell my unnoticed life I turn, move, yell and scream, the sun heeds, but doesn't change a thing The veiled sun plumps down to ripen my sequestered soil, but not what I was asking for The latent sun hopes one day I will just accept it is there, behind the clouds, so I can appreciate that it is mine.
Little wilted light yellow flower with soft petals. It was when I thought I had to be so strong That I broke.
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Is it really too late? We have come too far she said, too late to get back together, But is it? You got a new bf , I am still alone , Not because I have no options, But they don't make me feel the way that you do. I accept my mistake yes i do. Deep inside I am still waiting for you, We have devine connection yes it's true, My heart still groan , When I miss your skin and bone. It's too late she said.
My Child Tanka I remember the evening that we sat clinging to paper cups of coffee gone cold over secrets spilled and memories told two bodies cursed with hearts grown old behind your eyes I found new worlds A winding road stretched out for miles to a small cafe at the end of the isle Sweet pastries filled the mouths of those who sat beside us and stayed for a while. How the hours went by, people just passing through The descending sun ending a forever with you. You whispered And the Stars came into existence It's beautiful.
I never told a lie to you that I love you I told a lie to myself that you love me.. October, 31 I've got painful on my own, It's break to my bone, When you are gone. My love shall be shown, For the hardest known. I know that you won't Feel alone, I know that I want To be your lovely one. I read a quote somewhere that said, "I don't know how many times I have survived myself, without telling anyone else. I felt them so deeply. And I wonder how many of us feel the same way. How many nights we fought off the suicidal thoughts, the urge to cut, the urge to purge, the urge to run or to hide out, alone, too afraid to worry or bother our friends and family.
- Special Delivery.
- The Time of My Life.
- cfcdornelles.com.br | Academy of American Poets.
- Casualties (Modern Plays)?
- Restorative Neurology of Spinal Cord Injury.
How many days and nights have we all suffered in our own darkness alone? People like us fight a battle no one can ever fathom because it's a battle no one can see. And we don't let them. I've fought myself and survived myself alone so many nights. There were nights I use to lose my own battle. But some how still came out alive.