Glorious cats of the Sun
They strive to be number one
They live for recognition
To be the best by definition
The most generous of them all
No favor is too big or small
They’re loyal to their tribe
Their love’s hard to describe
They love their mane
They can’t be tamed
Big hearts of gold
They’re regal and bold
Even in the night
They’re in the spotlight
Flattery makes these kitties purr
They love compliments for sure
One thing that you can’t ignore
Is when you hear these lions roar
They’ll charm you like never before
They’ll have you melting on the floor
These felines already won
After all is said and done
These are the cats of the sun
They’re most loved by everyone
In a bottle's transparent depths,
ants struggled, waves of chaos
each fighting for life,
yet forming a living pyramid,
a reverberation of unity's might.
Some submerged, others held fast,
a coordinated dance of aid
no panic, no selfish haste,
each ant surrendered to the greater fate.
A spoon's gentle rescue came,
ants emerged, one by one,
until one faltered, slipped back
into the water's grasp.
The last ant turned, dove deep,
clinging tight to the drowning form,
a bond of brotherhood,
a sacrifice that shook my core.
Shame on humans, lost in pride,
building walls, not bridges wide,
ants teach us unity's strength,
a lesson in selfless length.
True power lies in collective might,
let ants' wisdom guide our plight,
unity's lesson, forever told
in their small, mighty hearts of gold.
The assurance of light
During times dark and desperate
Bestows warmth within freezing cold
Where peace from a storm’s respite
Finds home through dangerous shoals
Guiding your ship on the sea of hope
Finding the port of hearts of gold
The Nurse of Zionism (part 1)
She visited the stolen land
loved putting her feet in the sand
the sand was not pleased
the crushed bones of Palestinian dreams
olive trees burned so Europeans could party
Over three hundred bullets in a six year old
"Its complicated"
Thousand of children slaughtered
"Its complicated"
Doctors raped in IDF prisons
"Its complicated"
Children used as human shields
"Its complicated"
Hospitals bombed on purpose
"Its complicated"
Medical equipment smashed by soldiers
"Its complicated"
IDF dress up in Palestinians women's cloths
"Its complicated"
One will never heal
with a heart so cold for others
selfish, self centered, self absorbed
to the core
Nazis had nurses too
I should not be shocked
The Angel of Tel Aviv (Part 2)
I ask why the ones
with hearts of gold
carry such a heavy burden
of pain, loss and sadness
The world such a miserable place
nurses should carry compassions grace
mostly true
for in the afternoon sun,
the Hanoun in bloom
in Tel Aviv an angel of mercy
restored my faith in humanity
Beautiful are folk with hearts of gold
Unsightly are those with hearts stone cold
Take some time to learn of someone's worth
You may get major surprise of earth
Women don’t need to be dressed in lace
A man doesn’t need a handsome face
Just to be a compassionate soul
A person who fits the friendship role
Would you befriend me, an aging droll?
Oh, land of rivers, lush and green,
A tapestry of beauty, serene.
Fields of gold, where farmers toil,
Life springs forth from your fertile soil.
Your skies sing with birds in flight,
Your days are warm, your stars alight.
The Padma flows with stories untold,
Of courage, freedom, hearts of gold.
From Dhaka’s streets to Sundarbans wild,
Nature and culture are beautifully styled.
The roar of tigers, the whisper of trees,
Echo your spirit across the seas.
Your people stand, both strong and kind,
With dreams that no chains can bind.
Born of struggle, yet full of grace,
A beacon of hope, a proud embrace.
Oh, Bangladesh, our motherland,
Forever cherished, forever grand.
With love we walk, with pride we say,
For you, our hearts will always stay.
From Darkness to Wicca
In shadows' embrace, we once did dwell,
A journey through night, with tales to tell.
But guided by stars, we found our way,
To the realm of Wicca, where light holds sway.
Obey the laws of karma, sacred and just,
In this dance of life, we place our trust.
With hearts of gold, we banish the dark,
In a world of love, we leave our mark.
No evil we know, for love is our creed,
In every thought and every deed.
"Do not harm none," our guiding phrase,
In a circle of love, we spend our days.
From darkness to light, our spirits soar,
In the arms of Wicca, we are evermore.
With open hearts, we show our love,
Blessed by the moon and stars above.
I venture forth, an explorer true,
Seeking knowledge, with heart anew.
Idanre's hills, a treasure to behold,
Ancient secrets, yet to be unfold.
The people, industrious, with hearts of gold,
Welcomed me, with stories untold.
Their cocoa farms, a lush, green sight,
I harvested with them, under the sun's warm light.
Their water, a natural blessing, pure and fine,
Quenched my thirst, and revived my mind.
A healing spring, with powers to restore,
A gift from God, forever in store.
Idanre's hills, a tourist's delight,
A haven for nature, in all its might.
Longevity and prosperity, God's blessings true,
Reflect in the people, with hearts anew.
Their men and women, handsome, beautiful, and strong,
Beholders of beauty, with hearts that belong.
Producers, problem solvers, with a spirit so bright,
United in ceremony, with love and delight.
The bell rang
In the castle high,
Calling for the rise
Of those below.
War floods the gates,
Not of fire or stone,
But of hearts torn.
Now, they cause pain.
Blood, death, gore,
Strikes those below.
Hearts of gold among the red,
Try and fail to stop the end.
In the castle high,
They do not care.
With hearts shrouded in gold,
A metal so cold
No warmth of tears,
Of terrors, of fears,
No care among the ones of gold
For the reds pouring below,
The lands plowed.
The people die,
Yet they do not cry.
No, they're hearts are gold.
No tear falls,
Not for their land,
Their home.
Open your ears
I want to tell you a story
A story of struggle that is not my own
You got this world around so big
Yet we make it so small
There are so many around like ourselves
But do we even notice
You got the ones that live in shelters
You got those who struggle with finance
You got the few that have hearts of gold
And those who are afraid to be them
Life is full of many great moments
But so many miss other moments
When you take just a little time to open your ears
Your eyes see so much they missed
Just today talking to two
I find our struggles yet different are the same
In.that moment you can take one second and listen
To the music to the harmony to the sound of actual caring
When you open yourself up to listen
You can make a world of difference in this great big world.
Really, no kidding, is this today’s thinking?
Just be demure, sweet with a dark soul sinking.?
Jealousy of all who have a dime more than we,
We haughtilly wish, they hang from the nearest tree?
We judge those so harshly, who drive a new Jaguar?
While God looks at us and wonders what makes us above par?
The USA is hardly an unfree, brutal, Communist Cuba
But if jealousy has you by the neck,go there and play the tuba!
Neither you nor I are to judge the goodness of our fellow woman or man.
It is better to spend time, living , sharing, with all we can.
Judge yourself, if you wish, all day long..
But..far better to love all, a most holy, sweet song.
I mean that by our actions, for the young and the old
This will make us happy, and create in us, hearts of gold..
10/25/2024
Dedicated to Patricia Stevens, my friend who made time for people and
brightened their days. I miss her kindness, humility and her example.
A small lamp is lit today
For the heart of an angel
And for the love of humanity.
With people helping people's pain
Restores my faith in humanity
It's still a world of worth living in.
Tears flow again sure
To find people with golden heart
Making it my noble gesture.
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
The rich, deep tone of the skins of the Chewa people of Malawi reflects an image of a race that has seen the passage of time. They have adapted with resilience and strength to the challenges posed by the relentless sun.
The dark hue of their skins, like the fine edge of our galaxy, embodies identity and heritage. A heritage of a culture so vibrant, and an identity rooted in resilience. The Chewa, the black of Malawi, is a symbol of enduring strength.
Their traditions are woven into the very fabric of the land, from the rhythmic dances to the sacred rituals, so grand. Their voices, like echoes from ancient times, tell tales of old, of a people united, with spirits bold, and hearts of gold.
In dawn's embrace, she strolls the dew-kissed fields,
Her tender touch, to morning's yield.
Silken hair, a cascade of midnight's grace,
Soft hands whispering, love’s gentle trace.
Beneath the boughs where shadows fade,
She moves with ease, the milking maid.
Her breath, a sigh in the cool, crisp air,
Her eyes, a promise, a daring dare.
Each motion, slow, deliberate, kind,
Her touch, a whisper, to the bovine mind.
Sunrise glows upon her skin,
A dance of light, where dreams begin.
The rhythm of her work, a sacred song,
A timeless dance, where she belongs.
Her form, a curve of pure delight,
In the gentle dawn, she milks the night.
In every glance, a story told,
Of warmth, and care, and hearts of gold.
The world awakens to her tender art,
The milking maid, with a lover’s heart.
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