Sun dance
I touched the sun last night
The darkness was all around me
The battles won in the dream world
Precipitate into the world of illusions
I touched the sun
it was like a toy in my hands
And I rose to the heights
Where the power of love
Rings it’s eternal home
It felts warm and nice
And I swam in the oceans of life
Where never ending fun
And all the world smiled
And all the lost children
Touched the sun
And rose from the darkness
That’s the story of the sun dance
Indeed he was in love with his poetry
Indeed he was passionate about his dramatically dramatically design dramas
Only to mesmerize his deletable audience
Indeed he was the master of writers craft
Indeed his presence is still felts when his fans devours themselves with engrassing stories written by him
Indeed English literature was not complete
Indeed generations will cherich him
Indeed he was the King of Drama!
Near faint mountain ridges, upon bends of bridges,
splashes of light tickle as streams below trickle.
Moonlight's expansive flow sprinkles the gazebo.
White canterbury bells absorb sheen luster swells.
Illuminations strum nature's palette spectrum.
Brushed garden's rainbow felts, like dripping oil, melts.
Cottage lights extend to the stream's reflective blend.
Luminance warms our days as fireplace logs blaze.
2-4-2021
Tribute to Thomas Kincaid, "Painter of Light."
Clothes Like Moths
Felts Blessings Grew.
Prayers Of Infancy,
Brand New!
Sitting trying to say sorry to the person who you hurt the most
or listening to the person who hurt me the most trying to say sorry
The broken me
Fiercely hating empathy
Psychosis my medication
Wishing the part that feels the felts
was disbanded and castaway on desolate sand
Deserted the pest
unclench the fist
Emotions i resist
Figure which is infront of my eyes,
and never out of my sight.
I am not able to understand whether
it is wrong or right to have faith in first sight.
Heart let me down, it beats at its full pace
when I saw his face.
His eyes has shine,
which says he is mine.
Something is in air,
that asks he is where?
When he is away, days seems to be long
and it felts no one is along.
His smile gives happiness to me,
warmthness between us which cannot be seen.
This feeling of love gives a glow
which you cannot able to know.
Just in a second you got change,
it seems everything you have gain.
Mama got tired of his hats;
He strowed them all over the house,
Her temper was short, this woman,
Never as quiet as a mouse.
If it's been done before, I can do it,
So she went to the lumber store,
Bought a big flat board, brought it home,
With ten penny nails for her chore.
You never heard such a banging hammer,
The board went up with its nails,
And Pappa's hat rack was finished,
A coat of wall paint did prevail.
Now, the hats are a nice decoration,
If Pappa would just hang up them felts, but
Mama's got another thing to yell about,
"Hang up your blankety hats - or else!"
The hat maker
by
Jude Kyrie
It was so very long ago.
The world was full of hats.
In the spring the hat maker came.
She pinned her felts and silk
to my mother’s head.
Added feathers and flowers.
My mother would be beautiful
for the Easter parade.
I tried them on when she was out.
Until my head became too big.
One hat in each box
Representing one more Easter.
Then when the chemo took her hair
We sat outside of her bedroom
The hat lady came for the last time.
She left solemn and quiet
Her eyes cast to the floor.
We all went in to see her last creation
On her head a beautiful
hat with flowers
and ostrich feathers.
Her head perfectly covered
Not a sign of her lost hair.
And that was the last time
I saw her smile
HYMNS OF FREEDOM
It is a a new day, what we live today
Free of servitude
Murana! not more a slave, bonds - girl
Murana ! not more a trokosi
Shout, shout the word loud for us to hear
Murana, break the silence your voice wishes to betray
and lightened the path the Olympian torches fears
This is the way you shall be known, Murana !
To be the fearless
To be the freed
Of your grandmother Miedoafe's replica
Because
When you dare not, the world behinds the shade, dreads.....
Which
What
Is laid deep in the smoldering of the quenched fires
Where its smokes revives the echoes of yesterday
Of you, the heart felts when been abused
From the sufferings of fathers sins
Who never educate us
Who never make a wealth
Who never rules well
Who never..................
So today, stand firm against it
Break the chain that linked us
For freedom from imprisoned egos
Ignorance, Corruption, and bad governance
All
Been a freed Trokosi.