On your first anniversary tears are shed.
More than memories, we want you home instead.
You're my first and last thoughts every day.
You'll journey on within me.
Your memory will not fade away
As long as I live and breathe.
Like the glow of a fire in the wintertime,
Your love warms this heart of mine.
I close my eyes and I see your smile.
I fold my arms and feel your hug.
I watch your shows and hear your laughter.
I sit in the dark and see your light.
I'll carry your light wherever I go
You're no longer here but I love you so.
When I see something awesome I hear your "Wow!"
And feel your emotions during certain songs.
Though we can't communicate,
Somehow I know the things you'd say.
Thinking back, I still wonder why
We never got to say goodbye.
Even you didn't know yourself
That your time to fly had arrived!
You are cherished and loved by all you knew
And today you unite us in thought.
It's hard to believe you've been gone for a year.
Miss you lots Nana...wish you were still here.
A lot comes down..To what we value.'
Money..? Money and its power.?
I'll give here not much preamble.'
jacinta allan where lies her heart.' In
Love of money.' I'd reckon? the whole and
Not a part.' So there she is rooted..? And very
Evil.? What are the facts.? Maybe? she'll
Be put right.? When life pays her back with some (really hard smacks.!)
The Black Sea of Hostility**
I express no willingness to engage in the metaphorical black sea of hostility. It is a misconception to believe that individuals are born with fractured souls; rather, such conditions develop throughout one’s life.
One enters this world devoid of sin, possessing innate virtues and qualities. However, I am not inclined to accept an invitation to your table, where the tablecloth is whiter than the pristine blanket of snow on Monsanto Lake. I will not participate in such gatherings.
Your opulent Gorham silverware glimmers, reminiscent of clusters of grapes hanging from a mountain. Nevertheless, I remain disinterested in both swimming in this sea or dining at a table rooted in animosity.
The children raised in this environment are instructed to disdain the clergy. Meanwhile, violence stains the streets of northern communities as politicians indulge in lavish dinners costing $2,000 per plate. One must question who is safeguarding the gates of moral decay.
The realm of politics is indeed tumultuous.
All I have left of you is this kiss ??
And it wasn't even on my lips
It's just a reminder of how I fell out of love
And I'm left sitting here wondering
The first week I'd just stand by the shower
And the water full throttle would have at me
It'd be cold but I'd stand there lost
Remembering all those warm baths we had
I walked low-strung like a sad balloon
It was hard to stay afloat
I just drugged on till the weekend
And then I drowned further in the spirits
My heart sank a little lower
This time I was sure it was going to drop
Just a little further and it won't be able to rise up
I have gone cold and forgotten like I am already
My phone's been buzzing but it's just a distant cry
I let it go till it's off then go near it
Knowing too well it isn't you
But I just checked so that I can keep count
All I have left of you is me
At least the me before you
Sad and downcast, with no sunshine in me
But I'll weather it out till it's sunny out again
The PO£T
Your words arrive like dawn’s first flame,
A gentle spark, yet never tame.
They touch the chords I guard with care,
And lift my soul through open air.
The maps I hide, the dreams I keep,
Awake within me from their sleep.
Your verse reminds me light must flow,
To those whose hearts will help it grow.
I see the mirrors you have drawn,
The truths that guide from dusk to dawn.
Not all deserve the gift we give,
But still we learn, and still we live.
Your fire reflects, it makes me whole,
It nourishes always the hidden soul.
For every ember that you ignite,
I vow to guard and feed its light.
So take this answer, firm and true:
I gain my strength from lines like you.
Truth is a dagger—painful,
yet healing when it cuts deep.
History does not lie:
the Imperial Japanese Army,
once a beast of discipline and fire,
marched on arrogance,
believing steel could bend the world.
But time betrayed them.
China, unarmed, hungry,
with no advanced weapons,
stood in defiance,
its discipline sharper than any blade.
And when the dust settled,
it was China, scarred yet unbroken,
who rose from the ashes of war.
Now, eighty years hence,
the drums resound again.
Parade of steel,
columns of might—
Putin watches, Kim nods,
and the world is forced to witness:
“The China of yesterday is no more.
The China of today rules the century.”
Is this victory,
or a warning written in banners of red?
The West whispers,
“If you cannot beat them, join them.”
But Japan, silent,
remembers the shadow of its past.
Nations bow not to friendship,
but to power.
And power, once attained,
rules the stage like an emperor.
So I ask—
when the dragon leads the march,
who dares to stand against its fire?
A daylight will stay with us from on high
And mailings will be reviewed when I sigh
Among bleeding cacti within the fence
After we are engaged in a pretence
Here I, reversal permeability
Reduced to wearing only this vittae
Unhappy lunch
I could sense as soon as we entered
the restaurant that was a family run business
there had been a turmoil in the kitchen
the servers were father and daughter who
normally worked well together, but to day he
was in the kitchen, his daughter said, when
I asked
There were still many costumers, but they
kept a low profile and spoke subdual when
eating, we had entered a war zone
when our food came it was served on a dish
where my meat was grey like it had been
boiled, fries were uneven remanded of sailor
who had jut made ashore from a sinking ship
falling exhausted to the ground, and the
fried egg had been killed into a hard shell
However the salat, possible made before the
civil war, was good
Needless to say I refused to eat the served
my wife more skilled in diplomatic niceness
told the girl server to pack the food to take home
that I for some reason was not hungry
the lesson is, do not upset chefs in their kitchen
Permission for draft of requisition order
Civil war family heir
Destroyer class reconstructionism
Turn liberty up a notch for the western fleet
Fussy bonnet held us high
A destroyer class vessel is surplus
Afforded the documentation of drafting
Her pardon
Is not a priority
Abandon requires address
The 451 st Civil Affairs Battalion
The adjustment of languaging a building.
I come from this to you, as a published author of poetry books. In allowance of paper and address we aren't communicating for sun reasons? Limitations of equality?
451st Civil Affairs Battalion.pdf
//See part 1//
...I could never forget you.//
Not even if I tried. For, see, when the springtime comes again each year, and the leaves begin to grow once more, your face is all I see. Your lips as they smile, your eyes as they glisten, your sweet laughter bouncing off the tin rooftop, all of it comes alive for me. You will always exist in me. No matter where I go. And even if you can't be mine and I cannot be yours, when I'm scared or get overwhelmed with life's noise, I'll close my eyes and go to my happy place: The Autumn Times. Because I know that no matter if we're together or apart, if I ever lose myself, that I'll always find you there. That's where home is. Even if it only exists for me.
I dialed your number and listened as it ring
I hoped you would finally answer the phone
You are the only person that felt like home
You can remove this feeling of being alone
I listened and the phone continued to ring
I knew you wouldn’t answer but I had to try
The last time we talked it ended with a fight
With a few clothes you left with no goodbye
I often play that night back in my mind
Each time I try I can’t convince you to stay
And each night it’s the same as it was then
You walking to your car and then driving away
It’s been months and nothing’s changed
It still hurts and I struggle to get through
Today would have been our anniversary
I only called to say sorry and I love you
When appearing in public as Droopy sad vote needy it just
crumbles just as the millions of others.
Left with a guilty dialogue to chase? Please yourself
and don't for once, your a grown up, you can don't know too.
Please visit Ventura and thousand oaks cities guys.
Bring your spine it has a home here it's missing
Get to work
Make nother talking history hiding
Oopsy building down?
Elected by majority of population, sad?
Instant the command
As decisions
In labouring the fields
A civil war of family's avoiding
Yet the enactments mimic
As bond as surety
In financing burdens
One wishes not to carry
Carriage as stable
Nightingales lost fables
Ferry in twist
Smirking gentle and smits
To the good Friday of Ireland
Innn we've come, honey rooms that don't fly
Leaving me at bedtime
With
Windows as desks part
And Jest in time, you'll return the best part
Knowing I'll beJust as fine
Talking in hills climb
If you are about
Signing my bottom line
Paris?
I've got latin blues and jewish sop
Records that show outs
But I haven't swam on home
In cities we just get by
Arlington's at side by
Frantic paces, friends always me
A Newspaper
Once upon a time, the Guardian was a famous newspaper
it was democratic, to a certain extent, and readers are
invited to give their view, but with moderation and niceness
If not, they would politely ban the regressor
When the paper was famous, it was a bit left-wing, but always ready to see the other point of view
It was pro-Israel, defending Palestinian artists' rights
while overlooking as long as possible, the utter brutality
of Israeli politics against, say, Palestinians
The fact that the Guardian has been able to change is its
ability to alter its stands, yet holding to their journalistic
who are not left-wing, except for some of them who
Thanks to nature and time, they have wings.
Today, the Guardian is no longer a newspaper; it is more
like a color magazine dedicated to true sex stories shies
not away from lesbianism and what we now call gayness
It caters to a younger middle class, employed in, I think
show business, or the media, with titles like TV analyst
Or a researcher of AI, who will one day make all of them
out of work
When I get up in the morning, I drink a cup of coffee and
For entertainment, read the Guardian
Specific Types of Anniversary Poems
Read wonderful anniversary poetry on the following sub-topics:
beautiful, boyfriend, church, death, 50th, funny, girlfriend, grandparents, happy, her, him, husband, love, one month, one year, parents, pastor, 25th, two years, wedding, wife,
and more.
Definition | What is Anniversary in Poetry?
Poems Related to Anniversary
bicentennial, birthday, ceremony, commemoration, festival, holiday, husband, i love you, love, marriage, romance, romantic, to my husband, to my wife, wedding, wedding day, wife