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Age Peace Poems | Age Poems About Peace

These Age Peace poems are examples of Age poems about Peace. These are the best examples of Age Peace poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

Aquarian Age

Did our Age of Aquarius evaporate,
fail to regenerate,
to resonate,
fall too far short of what our parents
knew we should anticipate?
Free love could not sustain
weak non-violent resolutions against
whatever they were for.

Yet, if love is synergy,
mutual gravity,
and creation is this co-passion's regenerate transgeneration,
how could love cost more than free?
How could co-redemption not invest everything
in learning how to cooperatively Be,
free of enslaving supremacist becoming,
free to come together as ecological We?

Those who stop to count these costs of love,
look for ways to divest of co-opportunity,
ignoring Earth's mentoring economy
of light's photosynthetic comprehensive consciousness,
of neutral's dark unconsciousness,
a fog bank evaporating as double-binding time and rhythm
pattern and color RNA's free-fractal love connection.

If Time's eternal unfolding presence is 0-dimensional,
and Nature's bicameral perception is 2-dimensional prime,
bicameral form with function,
ego emerging from eco,
yang incarnating double-yin,
reiterative communicative processors
borrow RNA's decomposing 3-space with 1-time prime bilateral dimensions,
equivalent seasons;

Shy winterish Uracil of Universal freely decomposing love
greets Cytosine's full summer-formed regeneration,
as objectives greet their past and future subjects;
while Adenine painlessly springs
for Guanine's lavishly com-posted integrative harvest,
as verbs form fractal-recycling nouns,
verbal con-science revolutions,
relearning Earth's organic language,
by echoing universal polypathic syntax.

Universal monocultural power of governance
becomes a Left-brained dominant and reductive tyrant,
an Emperor reified of clothes
to cool His naked Ego-thirst.
However,
when power remains integral within co-passionate,
climatic,
gravitational integrity,
synergetic uniting cooperatism,
then naked power conjoins dark yin-time-ations,
shy bigendering romantic camouflage,
re-birthing this post-millennial 
gift-it-forward 
Age of Aquarius.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Someday special

One day
The sky fades
I'll be free
The good day
Is someday

Copyright © Emidifi Defi

Details | Free verse | |

Just Be

Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass. 
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are. 

Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment. 
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
Just be.
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers, 
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.

Jacob Reinhardt
10/07/13

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt

Details | Free verse | |

Who Am I

A new photograph floats to the surface
Playfully dressing up as the world around me
Hat, striped socks and all
Tiptoeing at the top for one last sweet moment 
Before sinking back into my ocean mind.

One after another they arrive
Single file,
Steeping my eyes in the world 
As the minds shutter, ever fluttering 
Strings together this conscious stream I play in.

My photographs fade in time’s wrinkled arms.
Joining their brothers and sisters at the ocean floor,
They hold hands and try to answer the question that is always asking itself:
Who am I?

Jacob Reinhardt
10/3/2013

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt

Details | Haiku | |

Bio in Short

It's been a good run
To the back side of sixty,
The short side of time.

First Hollywood kiss
Behind a pink crepe myrtle.
Thanks, Patsy Werner.

High school was okay.
Didn't help me to focus;
So, my mind wandered.

Surfed Bonzai Pipeline,
Big waves break into lava.
What made me do it?

Vietnam jungles.
I wondered why I was there.
America lost.

Smoking pot. Stereo.
Good fun in the seventies.
Psychedelics too.

And three wives later,
I finally found true love.
We're still together.

My destitute heart,
Saved by the sweetest angel.
I love you, Sandy.

Sooners are my team.
Most winning football program
In the Modern Era.

I am retired now.
But I have plenty to do.
Golf, primarily.

I've been writing more.
Perhaps I will write a book.
I have many tales.

I'd chase young girls; but,
Girls with a "grampa" fetish
Are so hard to find.

If I am lucky,
I will just drop dead one day.
With my peace of mind.

Yes, made a good run
To the back side of sixty,
The short side of time.

Copyright © Robert Candler

Details | Rhyme | |

Speech of Tears

Speech of Tears – Zamreen Zarook

Drops of tears from our purl conveys a lot,
Each an every shedding has a ballot,
By identifying the core, our hands should allot,
Because, some might be extremely as shallot.

Chipper and blissfulness gives you cool tears,
Whereas in console and divesting flow hot tears,
Fear and pains give drains of tears,
Nothing that can be patch with dollars.

Some deliveries are automatic,
While some productions are acoustic,
Another drain says I am really bombastic,
Tears are at last solely cubistic.

They convey the emotions,
People go in search for solutions,
They become happy when they are with the precautions,
Reactions again as the tears, it’s the real abbreviation.

Copyright © Zamreen Zarook

Details | Ballade | |

Success

Success

The other day I saw a man
He was an old, old man
He had this sparkle on his face
And a wondrous smile that ran
Right from his mouth up to his ears
He was a happy guy
And yet he had no home, no car
And soon in death he’ll lie.

I saw a man on the Television
His face all misery
He was a man who had so much
Such an important man he be
And yet his face was deathly grey
All life was drained from it
It seems that all his cobwebbed money
Has not helped him a bit.

I let you see the contrast here
So all you folk who hope
One day to be someone of means
I hope they will take note
Though money has a lot of value
It does not bring success
Cause in the end success must mean
A life of happiness.

1 September 2013 @ 0642hrs.




Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | Ballade | |

The age of anxiety

The age of anxiety

The age of anxiety
It seems that’s where we are
Worry, worry all the time
This does our senses mar
We worry about our money
We worry about our health
We never search for wisdom
With all its wondrous wealth.

Our hearts and brains they can’t restrain
The power of our stress
The cancer cells may start to build
And cause unhappiness
As then we worry about the death
That each of these might bring
And through the might of all this worry
Our hearts, they seldom sing.

We’re running here, we’re running there
All trying to get ahead
Our heart strings numb, and kind of dull
So weary in our tread
We must learn to smell the roses
And let the joy come in
Relaxed in mind, relaxed in body
That’s the only way to win.

7 March 2014 @ 0850hrs

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | Haiku | |

Cold, Flexible Steel

A serial of haikus, all addressing the same topic with 
a hint of humor; but advice that could save your life
or that of a loved one.  New to PoetrySoup, so I hope 
I'm not "out of order" with this submission or topic. 


Cold, flexible steel
Probing my dignity...
Colonoscopy.

This “simple” exam
“…could prevent cancer.” they say.
Colonoscopy.

We all have to die,
But not from colon cancer.
Colonoscopy.

There's a downside tho’.
“Yuk! That, nasty brown liquid.”
Colonoscopy.

“But boy, does it work...
Work and work and work some more. 
Colonoscopy.

Baring your buttocks...
In a fetal position;
Colonoscopy. 

“No polyps", they say.
There are no malignancies.
Colonoscopy.

Your colon’s okay.
It’s five years until your next...
Colonoscopy.

Want some peace of mind?
Insurance may pay for it.
Colonoscopy. 

One “simple” exam
Can provide that peace of mind.
Colonoscopy.

You might save your life.
Over 45?  Do it!
Colonoscopy.

Cold, flexible steel.
On the other hand, what if…
Something else kills you?

Copyright © Robert Candler

Details | Free verse | |

The Willow Tree

I am
The willow tree
I am joy and I am sorrow
I am unmoving but free
I am what everyone is
But what few people can be

I have lived through many days and many years
And I have gained much wisdom and peace just by listening
I have witnessed much laughter and heartbreak
In the flat, flowering field that I stand in
I have had many children swing and tug on my vines
And have felt love and joy as if they were mine

But just because I am wise and old
Does not mean I am not strong
For many years I have withstood raging rains and wicked winds
Like a concrete wall
With my love of life to help me along

So when my time comes to an end
When my curtain is starting to close
I will be tired and spent
But peaceful and content
With the great knowledge that:

I was
The willow tree
I was joy and I was sorrow
I was unmoving but free
I was what everyone is
But what few people can be
I was alive.

Copyright © Campbell Speedy

Details | Lyric | |

I have loved it all

I have loved it all

I have loved it all
Adored the whole of it
All those foolish dramas
The dirt and all the grit
The joy, and all it’s sorrows
I’ve really loved it all
All in all my life is beautiful.

I’ve heard folk moan about old age
But not me, never, no
Cause every day forever more
I’ll always feel that glow
That comes from living happily
Within this now, and here
I’m holding each new day so very dear.

I have loved it all
I have, that’s how I be
Oh, I’m so glad to be here
With my philosophy
My fate knows what she’s doing
And she’ll do right by me.

You’ll never hear me moaning
About my years so far
Cause all is an adventure
With me, the leading star
And when I leave this shell behind
I’m quite prepared to go
Though where I’m bound for then, I do not know.

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | Rhyme | |

Love Is Louder

Love they say is louder than hate.
But I think that it’s a shame,
That only holds true when you have a pretty face.
Maybe I’m a disgrace,
For saying such a thing,
But think about your life and how true that *****rings.
And I cannot deny what this mirror is reflecting,
What’s standing in my way is only one thing.
It was beauty killed the beast,
In famine it will bring feast.
And sideways glances, second chances, you’ll get those at least.
But what about me?
What about us?
It’s power like money,
It drives greed,
it drives lust.
So what about you?
What can we do?
All I can hear,
The sounds that make the world disappear.
Love is louder than hate, but I can’t hear it from here.

Copyright © Ag Ki

Details | I do not know? | |

At Peace

At peace, I lay
and hear you say
that all will be okay.
But it’s a lie,
‘twixt you and I,
for I am soon to die.
Yes, I am soon to die.

At peace, I lay
This final day
You know I cannot stay.
It’s time to fly
into the sky,
my love, our last goodbye.
This is our last goodbye.

At peace, I lay
I’ll look away
while fervently you pray.
You’ll heave a sigh,
I’ll wipe your eye,
then hold you ‘til I die.
I’ll hold you ‘til I die.

Please hold me ‘til I die.

Copyright © The Grahamburglar

Details | Rhyme | |

All That's Sure Is the Season

Approaching the winter of my years,
Never yet found my reason.
So much laughter, so many tears,
Yet all that’s sure is the season.

To few, all my days;
So many spent simply breezin’.
Should I regret their waste
When all that’s sure is the season?

What’s it been about anyway?
Perhaps there is no reason.
Did so want to learn the truth,
But all that’s sure is the season.

Always tried to consider others.
‘Tis much easier to be pleasin’. 
How many are my friends?
All that’s sure is the season

Felt the urge to make my mark.
Fame or fortune was my reason.
Fear of failure was my tether,
For all that’s sure is the season.

A man of Christian faith,
Hope God finds me pleasin’.
Fair chance tho’, I’ll go to Hell,
Yes, all that’s sure is the season.

So what of value will I leave?
Hearts and souls I may be teasin’
With too few words too few will read,
While all that’s sure is the season.

Approaching the winter of my years, 
Never yet found my reason;
But thank God for each extra day I search.
Still, all that’s sure is the season.

Copyright © Robert Candler

Details | Free verse | |

spectacles

Show me who you are and i shall paint out broken columns on the valleys of her back as if such figure is un-common
i have found no beauty bending as the vines that are her hair and the frailty of man upon her back is what she bares
bleed her body for the harvest let them feast upon her soul for the nurishment of mother is leaps beyond so bold
she is like the flower growing in the deepest of dark forests,amongst the ivy and hemlock but her skin is much too porous
to concern herself with games that tantalize the men, as they marry on crusade it is her children that she tends
sheath your swords with her ambition and tip your arrows with her will, craft your armour from her strength and in the battle you will kill
come now children from the pasture and lay each upon her side, suckle gently at your mother although theirs pain she does not hide
though the water leaks from rooftops her leaves are thick and block the rain, as the water level rises cling to her branches with no shame
she is the stone upon the beach, once a mountain pound and breached
yet still her disposition clear to love her children that are near

inspired by Roots Frida Kahlo, 1907-1954

Copyright © chriss todd

Details | Free verse | |

Peace

How queer the color of viscera
squarely foreign in my breast
To be the butcher and grim and goddess
All in one
Leaves identity succinct
Or identifies succinctness
If it has been
Then so it was always before

Therein is 'Peace'
Reposed and eyes rolling
Great, vacant saucers on vertiginous axis
She is quite the swollen beast
And on all fronts, she is terrible
If only you'll watch you may notice her growth
A malignant sort
An unwelcome appendage
I'd dash it out but I've already gone
Too pale and dogged in life to succumb
I curse her tenacity

She has a sister, I think
Or maybe a child
A child who lives down deep in my chest
A child who shrieks and tears down the walls
Perhaps she dislikes their pattern

Copyright © Chelsea Westerfield

Details | Free verse | |

Here it comes now

that soft sail
and the wind looks as if
it’s trying hard to breathe 
i have elements in me
a compass borrowed, for some sorrow i assuaged
my eyes upward and unfolding
over some wave i might beach
adrift
my cuffs are turned up
and arms are a reelin’, in that wind I know 
is my kite yet to a’sail on this sea
coming for me

Copyright © Gerry Mattia

Details | Bio | |

Pucka Parker Rest in Peace

It all started five decades ago, when her gift of imagination began to grow. 
She was the youngest of five and could not wait for her to arrive.
Velvety soft skin so fair, along with lots of curly blonde hair;
Eyes deep blue like the night welkin, with an innocent smile and double chin;
Tiny hands that grip and probe wrapped in a pink blanket robe.
Cyndi, a sweet southern name but a lonely child she soon became. 

Cyndi went outside to play in the sand, soon came back holding an imagined hand.
At two years old she made a brand new friend, to her Pucka Parker was not pretend.
With siblings overpowering her in age, she often took over center stage.
She was the apple of mom and dad’s eye and learned quickly how to slide by. 
Their likeness was uncanny; the mischief was not on her fanny.
Pucka Parker did it, she would cry, as elephant tears poured from her eye.

Pucka Parker was forever to blame and soon inherited the family name.
We took her shopping even to church leaving enough space for her to perch.
We took her in the car on vacation and somehow left her at the gas station.
Cyndi was so upset that she was gone that we had to stop at, what is now, an Exxon.
Pucka Parker was everywhere, to us older ones it seemed so unfair.
Pucka Parker was ruining our life forever; Cyndi’s ties to her must sever.

Mom asked the doctor, what to do, give her some time for her age to accrue.
Now at four, Pucka was on a roll, she ate every cookie from the storing bowl.
She stashed dad’s keys in her drawer; so he couldn’t take mom to the store.
She found lost animals of every sort, said they were lonely, needed her support.
One hot day, at the age of five, she came crying, Pucka was no longer alive.
Tragic end, Pucka was hit by a car, went to heaven; was a new star.

We laid Pucka carefully in a box, on a nice bed of our holey old socks.
We had a short funeral on her behalf, wrote words on a paper and pinned it to a staff.
Here lies beloved Pucka Parker, she was the best, it said on her marker.
It didn’t take long for Cyndi to recoup, befriended a girl to sit on the porch stoop.
It is funny how children conform; make their life cozy, secure, and warm.
To this day after forty-eight years, we recall Pucka who transformed Cyndi’s tears. 

Copyright © 2010  By Caryl S. Muzzey

Fourth Place Winner ~ "Story Time” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Carol Brown
Oct. 12, 2010

Copyright © Caryl Muzzey

Details | Rhyme | |

Yet Another Reflection

I rend asunder and
Crumble into dust
Before my very eyes.

No answers forthcoming
To my many questions,
Most important, "Why?"

"A fool are you,"
I stand thinking.
"There is no disguise."

To worry so about
What matters not
In the by and by.

Trials have strengthened.
Sorrows kept me human.
No point to analyze.

"Life is for living,"
An ultimate truth
I finally realized.

Sooner than later
Might have been better,
Had only I been wise.

I rend asunder and
Crumble into dust....
A twinkle in my eye.

Copyright © Robert Candler

Details | Rhyme | |

Candy Made Of Cotton

You were born and raised as a dream,
That someone else liked to keep.
Run me like a river,
Currents can’t keep us from sleep.
You were raised like a flag. 
So sorry so forgotten,
You were left at half mast.
A tomato in the sun not dried but rotten. 

Candy made of cotton.
Dreams are meant to be forgotten.
And I’ll forget with help from smoke and ashes.
Alone here we lie between the sounds.
Don’t we all think our lives could be profound?
But my genius only comes in flashes.

Turn me like a table.
The only stories I ever heard were fables.
So now all I tell are tall tales. 
Something about cats in cradles. 
I wanted so much from life but I was afraid to reach.
Now hand in my pockets tangled up in sleeves.
My dreams have stayed just dreams.

Candy made of cotton.
Dreams are meant to be forgotten.
And I’ll forget with help from smoke and ashes.
Alone here we lie between the sounds.
Don’t we all think our lives could be profound?
But my genius only comes in flashes.

Copyright © Ag Ki

Details | Rhyme | |

The fading fire

The fading fire

The fire has gone where it must go
I've lost ferocious, sensual glow
Yet with it comes a love so strong
So gently sweet within it's song

With winters sweet maturity
The love that always lives in me
Becomes a lovely loyal force
Been tempered by such sad remorse.

Those days are gone when the body sang
And just one thing in mind did reign
It's gone from heat, to cosy warm
Warm, summers breeze, no more a storm.

When looking back, where would I be
If I had another chance at me
I'd choose to be here in the warm
Where love is gentle, not a storm.

21 September 2013 @0653hrs.

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | Free verse | |

Razor Blade State of Mind

I'm in a razor blade state of mind,
A place of darkness that's hard to find.

I sleep tangled in a blanket of pain,
On a mattress full of mayhem.
The darkness surrounds me
And there's nothing I can do. 
My past has become the lightning rod,
The only means by which my future
Can seem to conduct itself.
But who do I think I'm fooling;
What's an orchestra without a conductor? 

I once sang out loud,
But now I'm drowned.
The body electric left
Somewhere in a field,
Where it ceases to breathe.
We have no hope here,
We have no hope left. 

My mind is like my verse;
Jumbled and pointlessly poignant,
Hopelessly optimistic.
Scarred and scared and sacred,
It means so much nothing
That it's bound to mean something.

I am everything I despise,
Nothing that I admire;
I am sweat and I transpire,
Not so wet like fire. 
I'm in a razor blade state of mind,
I tell the truth but I'm a liar.

Copyright © Brick Cullum

Details | Haiku | |

Now

For now, we are here;
Let us forget difference,
Embracing the present.

Copyright © Tara Andre

Details | Rhyme | |

A Kaleidoscope

A kaleidoscope, a mixture of colors and light
So hard to describe so hard to write
Just like a life just like mine
Here is mine my time to shine

The colors change just like time
A life goes on to hit its prime
No matter what it keeps on changing
Just like life keeps on arranging

My story begins at age six
When life was suddenly no easy fix
The Kaleidoscope began to turn
And its center began to churn

My father left our family home
He left alone to go and roam
Suddenly the Kaleidoscope went dark
Even now it’s left its mark

It remained unturned for about two years
And the movement became quite severe
My Mother moved away from home 
To improve her new teaching career

The shades of blue came into play
As most of my family had passed away
My mother was strong and held my hand
Even though nothing had gone as planned

My family will always be in my heart
Those small blue beads will play their part
At that time I was almost nine
I pretended that I was just fine

The colors changed from blue to red
I went on with almost no dread
At age eleven I moved once more
I moved again to the California core

I spent the next year in shades of green
All the kids were just too mean
I went to Junior and then Senior High
Then it was time to say goodbye

The Kaleidoscope turned and made a painting
My life became very entertaining
That’s when I met you for the first time
My hope and happiness began to climb

But My Father turned my Kaleidoscope for me
And I asked and cried my pitiful plea
On the weekends the kaleidoscope turns black
With nothing there to change it back

There are ups and downs, lights and darks
With many blond moments and smart remarks
My life will always be turning fast
Even so I have time to look back at my past

If I remember one thing it is that
My life was nothing like combat
But I still fought wars of my own
Without them my world would still be unknown

There is nothing quite like a kaleidoscope
It’s a symbol of change and hope
I like to think my life is like this
So look back and reminisce

Look back at your thoughts and dreams
But remember nothing is as it seems
The Kaleidoscope will turn to show your past
What was boring and what was a blast

Mine shows everything you’ve done for me
You showed me how fun life can be
You made my life what it is now
To this day I still wonder how

Thank you for turning my Kaleidoscope
And giving me strength and the power to cope
You made my life a beautiful rainbow
You deserve more than you will ever know

Copyright © Molly Alcorn

Details | Rhyme | |

Last Stage-Old age

Everyone has to enter their oldage
It is life's last stage
Can' predict the span of men
as it moves like thespian run.

Hard to catch the past time.
As yellowish comes after green in lime.
Never will it dawn in life again,
similar to the droplets of rain.

All Sides of the world is blocked
All ways of the path clogged
Standing on the verge of the end
where they long for a companion or friend

The last stage is filled with worries
where everyone's past brings merries
Gone,Gone and Gone
leaving a path so long.

Wrinkles move here and there
pale of face and gray of hair
Joy leaves them with agony
where they stand solitary.

Copyright © Deepika Princess

Details | Free verse | |

Living Sea

 Her eyes gaze upward and witness
 The bluest sky of some she has seen,
 Issuing forth strength to her weakening soul,
 Pure, warm - a living sea;
 A towering terrain she plants her feet,
 A flowing stream to point her toward
 Realms beyond her simple child-like dreams.
 She captures a glimpse of sunlight’s smile,
 She sings a song of happiness,
 A faultless peace, a gift of love;
 Illumination creates merriment, and
 Dominates her soul,
 Disquiet and difficulty fade away,
 An age of joy will be her harbor,
 An age of love will keep her clothed,
 An age of rest will be her guest,
 Her spirit soars as sunlight washes ashore. 

Copyright © kathleen stevens

Details | Rhyme | |

The Seasons Of Change

The Seasons Of Change

How the years have passed me by so fast, it seems like yesterday.
The road through life has twists and turns got lost but found my way.
So many sunsets since that time so much that I have learned.
But for that love I found one spring for her my heart still yearns.

Soldiers still march off to war and old men feel their pain.
Why don’t people ever learn there’s nothing we can gain.
Beat the drums and sound the horns the brave will heed the call.
Then take their names and etch them in a big black marble wall.

The seasons passed me by so fast, oh where did they go.
Fashions never seem to last the new looks like the old.
One thing that has never changed and I hope it never will.
The love that blossoms in the spring between a boy and girl.

I dream of days when love and hope are all that mankind needs.
When poets write and artists paint on canvas lovely things.
When man will look to heaven high to see their reigning king.
And Love between a boy and girl blossoms in the spring.

Copyright © Paul Harris

Details | Free verse | |

Mama Told Me To Have Patience

I never quite understood the concept of patience,
Laying in the shadow of wait never seemed to put me in a content rest,
And that’s all that patience is, it’s waiting.
I will never wait,
I will never be content,
I will always inch for more,
Because when you take the most in, you’ll get the most out.
Life doesn’t wait for anyone,
So why wait when you know exactly what you want?

Copyright © Christina Rose

Details | Imagism | |

On the heaven mat

They might be many
luminaries on his
face,
And many clouds are
gathered in his lace
But only nights may
wave so big crystal.
Reckless, the stars
roll over the aim
vital;
Black holes, for
nothingness may
call;
On heaven`s mat, the
diamonds fall…

And saints collect
them for later
In the river from
sky; then, as
better:
As those who are
thirsty in the
desert 
Of their life, tired
to dig deep and
alert,
Will find the
searchers of
treasure`s verses 
Once, written by
clouds on the sky of
Xerxes.

Copyright © Ovidiu Bocsa

Details | Bio | |

JABIDAH PEACE GARDEN

Who died are the Sulus
not the so called Moros
They were the recruits
Were killed when refused

Sabah were to invade
They refused to take orders
Sacrificed not to kill brothers
Jabidah Massacre bolted

Jabidah Peace Garden
the name should be penned
part of the history and genuine
not to distort its tale

Not supposed ourselves
Supposed not to hide it
The truth of the fate
Shall come to take the lead

It is nice to be recognized
An honor was made
But think of the truth
A sincere hearts we should

We cried, laughed and proud
From the Mindanao plain
from the valley mountains
and from the breeze of Sulu currents.


I love you peace. Let's sail together. Layag Sug!
Nature City. 22 March 2015. 11:20AM

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