I don’t believe ideal love is real…
Can castles in the sky be built to last
eternities? Or rather burn, as fast
as marriage papers (and melt the holy seal)?
Besides, I hate to think I’m meant to steal
the blueprint to a fortress from my past
to use to plan my future, to forecast
the whim of winds who caren’t for mortal zeal?
Does there exist a Master Builder clever
enough to build a home that neither rots
nor suffers,—which fever may never sever?
Apart from high upon the playwright’s stages,
or daftly dancing in a daisy’s thoughts,
soulmates live alone on a poet’s pages
In the gentle whisper of the wind,
I find the echo of your name.
In the rustling of the leaves,
I always sense the same.
My love for you runs deep,
It's honest and sincere.
With every beat of my heart,
Your presence feels so near.
In every breath I take,
I feel your gentle touch,
That soft and tender caress,
I long for it so much.
The love in my heart
For you is pure and bright.
Each time it beats,
My love shines with its light.
If you let me hold you,
I promise not to let go.
The love we share,
Is built to last, this I know.
As long as we stand together
To face whatever life may bring,
There's nothing we can't conquer,
And that truly makes my heart sing.
Let’s make up some new words,
they will woo a sharp tongue;
Timbre tends to enthrall
and leave it all behind;
Hooked on that swag and drawl;
Let’s make up some new words
that will catch fire and spread;
Smoke is everywhere fast
becoming a movement;
Straight fresh is built to last;
Let’s make up some new words
to embellish language;
Culture builds confluence
when we hear each other;
There’s no juice in silence;
Let’s make up some new words,
see what’s best together;
Just go crazy or splice,
uncover the right scratch;
The secret’s in the spice.
Across the aisle, a chasm loomed,
Reagan smiled, O’Neill boomed.
The Gipper’s charm, the Speaker’s grit—
Two titans clashed but never quit.
Ideals at war—left against right,
Taxes and spending, day and night.
Yet through the storm, respect held fast,
A bridge of trust, built to last.
Barbs and backslaps, sharp yet kind,
Irish fire, Hollywood's shine.
Deals in smoke, with laughter's ring,
A gentler time, when truth could sing.
For common good, they found a way
To heal the rifts and clear the fray.
Through fiery words and firm debate,
They shaped the nation’s course and fate.
So raise a glass, let lessons soar:
To Reagan’s wit, Tip’s Irish roar.
May leaders learn from their accord—
In compromise lies our reward.
In our quiet refuge, a wild clamor rings,
Waves relentlessly pound our fragile haven's wings.
A hidden portal, glimpsed through faith's bright gleam,
Offers escape from this tumultuous, watery dream.
We are shepherds adrift on the sea's vast expanse,
Some clinging to icy peaks, others finding warmth in the dance
Of currents below. Our flock, a fragile hope, we keep,
Guiding them through darkness, while we ourselves weep.
From above, a familiar sight unfolds,
Warm waters teeming, life's vibrant story told.
A creature sighted, a beacon of hope's embrace,
Faith is reborn, finding solace in this watery space.
The shepherds find haven, their flock safe at last,
A beacon of hope, a future built to last.
In a world of glass and metal chic,
Where screens shatter with just one flick,
Stands a legend bold, tough as can be—
It’s Nokia, the one, the OG!
While iPhones snap and Samsungs fry,
Nokia’s built to never die.
Drop it, stomp it, toss it in the sea—
It’ll bounce right back, like, “Is that all you got for me?”
Text on its keys, clickety-clack,
Snake on the screen, never look back.
With battery life to last all week,
And no software bugs, or apps to tweak!
Nokia’s armor, thick and dense,
The ultimate shield, the one true defense.
When life throws bricks, or walls collapse,
Nokia shrugs, takes no naps.
From construction sites to outer space,
No smartphone’s fit to take its place.
So here’s to you, Nokia, champ of the past—
Forever immortal, and built to last!
Oh, tender heart, too full to bear,
With words like fire and frail despair,
A mind too sharp, a soul too raw,
Seeking solace in the flawed.
Through brittle days and endless night,
You poured your pain in streams of light,
Each verse a glint, a gentle sigh,
Too heavy for a world so dry.
I see your spark, your blazing flame,
Bound by love and bound by shame.
Like autumn leaves to embers cast,
A fragile beauty built to last.
Oh, poet lost in shadows deep,
Who carved her life in words to keep,
The silence, still, beneath your breath,
The longing pain—the pull of death.
Rural doctors
In quiet towns where roads are few,
Where fields stretch wide and skies are blue,
There walk the healers, brave and true,
The doctors of the rural view.
With bags in hand and hearts of gold,
Through rain and shine, through heat and cold,
They journey far where need is great,
To serve the towns that time forgot.
In simple clinics, makeshift rooms,
They fight disease, dispel the glooms,
With limited, yet mighty, tools,
They stand as pillars, patient schools.
Their knowledge vast, their skills refined,
In every touch, in every mind,
They bring a hope, a healing light,
To places often out of sight.
For every life they gently save,
In every soul they make more brave,
They build a bridge, they pave a way,
For better health with each new day.
In fields where whispers of the past,
Meet modern care that’s built to last,
These rural doctors, strong and kind,
Are heroes in the humblest find.
So let us sing their noble deeds,
Their tireless work to meet our needs,
In rural lands, they stand and serve,
With endless heart and steadfast nerve.
Written Sept 1, 2024
© Dr Upma A. Sharma
Freedom is a Canvas,
Painted with our rights,
A tapestry of tolerance,
In a world of fights.
It’s the colour of courage,
In our heart’s art,
In the portrait of peace,
It plays its part.
Each brush stroke tells,
A story of the past,
Of battles fought and won,
That built to last.
The right to speak,
To love, to dream,
To be who we are,
To let our spirits gleam.
Let freedom’s colours,
Blend and intertwine,
Creating a world where,
All hearts align.
So take your brush and paint,
Let your imagination run wild,
For on this Canvas called life,
You are the artist, my child!
25 November 2023 3:06 pm
Looking through the overgrown past
Leaning monuments built to last
Names and dates covered with lichen and moss
Beer cans and wrappers thoughtlessly tossed
Overturned stones and four wheeler tracks
Where once was bowed heads and old backs
Tears disrespected and sorrows mocked
All because we got busy and then we forgot
Roll your eyes sneer if you want
But one day you will be in this spot
Life matters and so does death
Both should not be wasted and deserve our respect
saw a recent photo of you
And thought I can handle this
Thinking you'll no longer faze me;
I'm without your potent sting
I'm in control
Thoughts pass; our love wasn't built to last
We had our times
We agree to leave the past behind
In hindsight, it's for the best
No one will remember but I can't forget
Grateful we've taken different paths
Don't want to resort to angry words
Some days I'm mired in our wreckage
Trapped in a memory
That time. To this day, it's so keen
You close to me
When we cut class after algebra
Gazing at each other
Finishing each other's sentences
We were closely knit
I pined over you for years
Thinking in time
We'd be reunited
No one will remember but I can't forget
Grateful we've taken different paths
I need to break free from the memories
Worth mentioning
I will always be somewhat smitten
Dear stuff
I own you and you don’t own me
We can’t go on co exhisting happily
I used to think that you built me up but now I realize all you do is tear me down you are just clutter I have found and I don’t need you to be around all I saw was the chaos in every flaw of this house but now I can carry on and worry about something else the stuff doesn’t add the value the relationships do so goodbye clutter I bid you a due no more clogging up my life and causing me strife you are just a mess and I don’t have to be controlled by every belonging I hold I purchased you in the past but sadly this relationship wasn’t built to last goodbye extra stuff I’ve had enough !
The vast space in which the consciousness roams seeks to fill it with experience.
But every man struggles when difficulties arise and faith is lost. Yet we engage
this game! To explore the limits of time and space, and a life that ends in death! These lives of karmic design must have their reasons why. To fulfill destiny and to become the person you were meant to be. Life is an opera of joys and sorrows. We are to use the brain yet follow the heart. To let the balance even out, for the loss in the world is equal to the gain. All that is born upon this world of legend, have to figure out the mystery, of why we are here. The pyramids were built to last and with scratches on rocks, send the ardent message, that love is all that matters, and that it is...the reason for living!
date: 5/3/23
Gaia will recreate
By Michelle Morris
20/10/2020
It's raining outside,
Showing tears Gaia's trying to hide...
Nature is hurting by our hands,
And we were given promised lands...
To protect land and beast,
Make heaven on earth complete...
We have constantly failed in our task,
But nature is strong and built to last...
Despite the species we eradicate,
Gaia will have the last say on this earthly plane...
When humans have destroyed each other for power and greed,
Gaia will recreate flora and fauna's seeds...
And earth will prosper once again,
Without mankind's intervention...
© Michelle Morris, 2020
Burnt wood, carved deep
Adrift in seas, the essence of sleep
blades bleed, cuts seep
create mysteries
the glass is in a fractured age
is vast finalize run
Around a forgotten sun
Of burnt wood n ash
I am lost in objects of art or form.
Like stone built to last
Burnt wood
broken glass
All are cast
All is encompassing
Burnt at last
Some things persist in memory
of memories
in a forgotten history
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