Best Reopening Poems
To discover life
we must to reopen wide
our doors and portals
First day to school is very good for children like us, very cool.
We meet our new friends and old one’s too,
But we don’t know we should catch whom.
Children are excited to know the teacher,
As they need a good future.
We come to know the rules of school,
So that we do not work according to us like fools.
We share our tiffins and tell our feelings,.
We ask last year’s percentage ,
To know whether the child is of good stage.
We give our introduction lovingly,
So that everyone may know us clearly.
There is nothing to study much as its first day, full of fun.
We go home hand in hand ,
To remain life long friends….
In his songbook,
are raving songs of beauty,
which thrushes around the phrases of my mind
and embroiders my soul on an errand
into a white night of a white Christmas,
in a white dreamland,
and having sleepless dreams,
and numerous pictures,
which I can’t clearly depict
but I could reminder an auction,
where flood, was sold at a discount
and breath, to the tallest bidder
Therein in,
my late hero brother,
cheerfully sang from his hero’s songbook
and I astonishingly sang along
with a bright smile and cry,
craving for a new hug,
but we could not hug nor shake hands
And he palely said to me,
I am back to stay,
never to leave
But I woke up, to notice it was a white lie,
Why so, my hero brother?
I try to anger in white lightning,
but I notice that my anger is colourless
and my sweat is adourless
I also try to use white magical feelings to give him a hug or bring him back,
but I could not,
because I am not a professional white witch,
My emotions has been white washed,
and I feel like white trash,
because my hero brother has been trash away from me,
by death
I feel like giving up my white ghost,
like a prostituted white slave,
by drinking up a full tank of white spirit liquid,
so I could be on his ream
But my hero brother begged me not to
He consoled me by saying;
that no matter how transparently apart we where,
his soul will never stop blowing the whistle of joy
or flash a white flag in surrender to death
Because his music will never end, nor will his whistle blend,
because the only thing he has freely given to death is a white feather of shame
This filled me will plenty white hope,
I will sob no more!
Because I now know that my hero late brother is a white knight
I will wait for him, in this unlabeled white land
till we meet and share hugs again
Several weeks ago, I passed a church
that had a special sign. There was
nothing said about COVID-19, but COVID was clearly there.
COVID was there because
COVID had left its mark, its atmospheric debris.
Such debris was not visible,
but the psychic permeation was everywhere.
On a large print posting for any and all to see, it said,
Grand Reopening. My vision isn't any better than
most, but I tend to see more than most.
I tend to see and sense what is presented
as well as what isn't obvious. So I think to myself, "One can only reopen something that has been
opened before, and closed".
Our beautiful English language can be very tolerant with multi-meaning words. i.e., A word such as the
noun house( pronounced haus)-a building for human habitation;
and a word such as the verb house( pronounced hauz)-to provide
with or take shelter. If I do not know the difference, therein lies a dilemma that could change everything.
So, as I pass that sign, I think to myself again, "A church can clearly be closed, but THE CHURCH cannot". So I asked myself, "Does this location comprise both 'a church and THE CHURCH'? This is problematic if we do
not emerge from the pandemic with a better distinction. To some, this is merely semantics, sounds trivial and simplistic,
but to me, it is rather defining.
071821FBPS
A unique bar with chicory coffee
side by side our famous praline whiskey;
The ‘Black Heart Masquerade’ reinvention
we have completed all the construction;
Fangs out to raise the vibe we are after
with each step your heart skips a bit faster;
The feeling in the lounge achingly hot
comparable to a dopamine shot;
Opening ten minutes after sunset
a man walked in that I won’t soon forget;
He stood behind the bouncer at the door
and headed toward me on the dance floor;
“Did you just step out of one of my dreams? “
I replied, “You can call me Inalem.”