“ ALL BUT THE MEMORIES ARE GONE “
I WALK THE FIELDS I USED TO PLAY I LOOK BUT I DON’T SEE
IF MEMORY SERVES ME RIGHT TONIGHT NOTHING’S HOW IT USED TO BE
DRIVING THROUGH MY OLD NEIGHBORHOOD IT HARDLY LOOKS THE SAME
TIME HAS CHANGED EVERYTHING IN TOWN ALL EXCEPT IT’S NAME
THIS WAS ONCE A PLAYGROUND FOR A WONDERING LITTLE BOY
EVERY STICK AND STONE I FOUND BECAME MY NEWEST TOY
OUR OLD HOUSE IS GONE A VINAL DUPLEX TOOK IT’S PLACE
MY BACKYARD TREEHOUSE HAS DISSAPEARED GONE WITHOUT A TRACE
THE FIREHOUSE AND GRADE SCHOOL SURVIVED IT ALL SOMEHOW
THEY USED TO SEEM SO BIG AND BRIGHT NOT SO MUCH RIGHT NOW
GROWING UP HERE THIS TOWN WAS YOUNG AND FULL OF FUN
THE CHANGES I SEE NOW SHOW JUST WHAT TIME HAS DONE
I DON’T DRIVE MUCH ANY MORE I MAY NOT BE HERE AGAIN
WHEN I LEAVE TODAY I’LL SAY GOODBYE TO MY OLD FRIEND
WHOSE MEMORIES LIVE ON AS THEY VISIT ME IN BED
RECURRING SWEET DREAMS STREAMING OVER IN MY HEAD
OF EVERYTHING I REMEMBER ALL BUT THE MEMORIES ARE GONE
Summer is fading away.
Sun drenched days are no more.
Beautiful flowers on display,
have now grown too mature.
The once soft evening breeze,
touched by mist from the sea
Now wind, rustling the trees.
a bit wild and forever free.
That familiar summer sound,
like a visitor, is gone.
But something else is found,
the song of the sea, will forever go on.
Colorful umbrellas dotted the beach,
along with towels of every hue.
That familiar scene is out of reach.
Only empty miles of sand left to view.
Though summer is all but gone,
the ocean will never be still.
The tides continue to move along.
Under summer's sun or autumn's chill.
"Political politician a man senator in a state of these United States 2020 present date in the Senate political career a permanent job instead of being servant tile
Attitude of I got mine and I keep you from yours been in office since 1964 career politician and financial great condition while you're impoverished struggling I got mine and yours
You keep voting for me over and over over again I'm just one of the 200 plus career politicians?"
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
2/15/21
I no longer hear the songbirds sweetly singing,
and fear they've left, knowing what Winter is bringing:
yet I listen, each Dawn.
The crops in the fields are ripe and ready to pick,
coinciding with Summer's disappearing trick:
the dog days have moved on.
Shorter days and longer nights have picked up a chill:
and chrysanthemums have replaced the daffodil;
Summer has all but gone.
As Autumn's festival of color comes to pass,
Jack Frost transforms green into gold, amber, and brass;
as if with a crayon.
Truth-less belief is true illiteracy;
Belief-less truth is ignorance!
But the conscience and rationalism
hates only illiteracy not the ignorance!
So what’s the ignorance!
Oh! I ignore all blind believers but I'm not illiterate!
-January 28, 2020 Chattogram
I never learnt the right way to love,
As if there were a formula ensuring success.
So now I’m playing it by ear,
Picking things up as I go.
Without the Sun, should it forget to rise tomorrow,
I will learn to live in the shade.
And if the Earth grows tired of turning,
I’ll learn to lead a still life.
If each star, dying, failed to shine,
I could un-learn my constellations and cast away my telescope.
But without you, what is worth learning?
Who would teach me?
For better, worse, forever, a part of you is all of me,
And all I see in an uncertain, unstructured future,
Is you. Being my structure, strength, and certainly mine.
After all these ,we are all but a dust ,
Struggle to survive this present distrust
Our leaders have taken us for a ride ,
Affluence ,ego and wastefulness they pride.
Youth cried in silence for no one to trust ,
After all these ,we are all but a dust ,
Poverty reigns supreme in our nation ,
As some try to change to a new station .
Waywardness ,sadness and greed are abound ,
A cure to this craze has not been found ,
After all these ,we are all but a dust ,
Go to the morgue and see how people rust .
Feel pain in my heart as I write this write ,
Who will remove this tumor and do right?
Fake faces!, my heart is full of disgust ,
After all these ,we are all but a dust .
Two thieves were hanging
Next to the Christ
One on his left
One on his right
One was ungrateful
For his lot in life
The other repentant
Remember me in paradise
They each had that moment
To open their hearts
One thought it best
The other thought not
One thief was saved
The other one lost
One knew the price
Counting the cost
Knowing it's never too late
To invite Jesus in
Just do it before the day
You've reached the end
Jaded to the bone,
Wayward since birth.
Where could this broken being find joy?
Truth?
Happiness?
Dare I say love?
There’s a place,
Of clear waters,
Beautiful beings,
Songs in the air,
Playing in my head.
That island of fantasy.
Family is there,
All those you love,
All but him.
The one I need.
Is it worth it?
All that magic?
Do I belong there?
I can’t stand it,
This beauty that surrounds me,
I want to be jaded,
Confused and hindered,
But by his side.
I don’t need it.
He’s the island I need.
The island I love.
My very own,
Island of fantasy.
In the catalogue of my heart’s library
A word I scribe, magical and unitary
In the garden of my emotional culinary
I plant , I nurture, I prune a topiary
In the bouquet of my life’s choicest flowers
One adorable,I place above all the towers
In the album of my sweetest memories
One ‘s too dear to me than the treasuries
In the atlas of maps of my mind
A solo destination fruitful I find
In the orchestra of my life’s tunes
An enchanting melody to me allures
In the fleet of ships with my decisions ‘cargo
One to me is fair and free from embargo
In the chandelier of my life’s surprises
One thrilling to me hypnotizes
In the pool of my dreams and desires
One realized, lit up the bonfires
In the blend of the aroma that mystifies
One fragrance stands out with poise
In the box of life’s tempting chocolates
One trust-worthy tastes and melts with grace
In the cemetery, when life ends,I am laid to rest
I wish, I pray that its me first and you be next!
©Copyright Anulaxmi Nayak, 2016
He laid there on his bed of death,
and wishing through his last of breath.
Just one more chance LORD let me get,
I'll do it right,
you won't regret.
But life is all but full of chance,
and once its gone you can't go back.
So make your plans and do it wisely,
the dreams you conquer must be timely.
As I watched him die he did remind me,
he was all but twenty.
Early dawn in rainy days,
your song warms us all.
But Crow once said from her nest,
O' cuckoo! You are cleverst of all;
I am upset by the games you play;
Lay your eggs in my nest,
and disappear at once,
with no sign of theft;
misdeed not ends here,
kills all my eggs when hatched;
Yet world loves you and says,
you are prettiest among of all;
Your sweetest tongue,
displays not what inside you are;
Does this imply sweet speakers,
sometimes poisonous inside?
With sweetest voice captivate,
For use then throw;
as bagasse is thrown after extracting juice;
You should be sweet not cunning inside,
Sweet tongue is slogan of world,
a lessson to all learn and behave...
O' cuckoo! song you sing is sweetest of all...
But not clean from inside...
© Sadashivan Nair
When the bout of loneliness
Strikes unawares
How I long
For a hand to hold on
How I wish
For life to go on
Trembling for a while
But steadying myself
Curbing my feelings
Groping in the darkness
I see a thin line of hope
Briefly I stop
Its the minds game
For there's no line
Nor hope.
© Nadiya (15 Jan '15)
All wish for a good name
But none wants to be really good
All wish for having respect
But none wants to respect others
The person who once earned
A lot by dishonest practices
Wants to have honest worker
To hold his grand premises
All wish for a good fortune
But none prays for others to
All wish for a perfect health
But none cares for Nature
The fellow who never respects
Women’s dignity even a once
Wants honor for his daughter
And save her from evil chance
As we sow so we reap in life
How can we expect any good
Unless we make a fair strife
And give up all the falsehood
we are all but one
varied colours and hues
countless creeds
trudging down alone
the world's avenues
yet the strands that bind us
together as one
reach far too deep within our collective soul
as we amble on underneath our soiltary sun
we are all but one
one body of humankind
with a shared yearning for love
and peace
shelter
and companionship
food
clothing
and above all
hope
that ever burning furnace
that rages inside each woman and man
hope
that somehow, some way, someday, something will for the better emerge
and we may then cease
to sing our mournful dirge
for hope shall triumph
now or in some distant tomorrow
and hope shall be victorious
over the dread and gloom and hate and pain and days of achingly deep sorrow
so we can rise up and lift our heads
and stare into the blooming of a new dawn
a dawn of victorious hope
and of peace and of light
dispelling the darkness of ignorance
ushering us all into the fields of the future
to behold the glorious and the truth of real freedom's awe-inspiring sight
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