Sparrows enjoy a certain reputation
For intimacy and hope
Crosby Stills and Nash sang of them
In Suite: Judy Blue Eyes
As compatriots to the morning
Air
With guitar strums and high notes
Truth be told
Sparrows are bulkier than the normal song bird
And not particularly
Pretty
Brown and gray as a mound of dirt
Chirpy jerky punk band
And they have no problem with crowding out
From a bush or bird feeder
Finches and chick-a-dees
They’re kind of a bully
Push around those that are smaller
Who carry pouches of yellow and pink
And tiny symphonies
They clog up my eavestroughs with nests
Right now
I watch one sparrow land on top of another
And the tree branch bends down
Under their heft
Bounces up and down
To their sex
Again
The limb
Seemingly
Waving them off
Or so it tries
As if it’s saying
Get off me you animals.
Blossom Monyei is a poet, potentially from Liberia, as indicated by references to the Liberia Poetry Association and poems published within Facebook groups for spoken word and poetry according to All Poetry and Facebook groups. he has written poems like "Faded", "The Distance Peaks of love", and "Unshaken". One of his poems, "Sin," is available on All Poetry according to All Poetry.
Here's what is known about his work based on the provided search results:
"Faded": A poem that explores themes of value and loneliness, particularly in the context of success.
"The Distance Peaks of love": A poem that depicts a love interest separated by a great distance.
"Sin": A poem that reflects on struggles with faith and temptation.
"Unshaken": Another poem by Blossom Monyei, suggesting a theme of resilience.
"Liberia Poetry Association": The phrase "Liberia Poetry Association" appears in the context of the poem "Sin," indicating a possible connection to the Liberian literary community.
"Blossom Monyei - poet at allpoetry"
My early childhood was great, I was the first born.
My mother had five children after me so I mostly remember
spending lots of time with my doting grandmother
who kept me busy learning to sew & knit before I could read & write.
I had such enthusiasm and benefited from tons of attention.
Creativity was a game to me and I learned to value time.
When I was nine, we moved far away and life changed overnight.
I was really lucky to land a grade 5 teacher who guided me
to learn english at an accelerated rate. I was a good student.
I've always been particularly thankful to both, teacher and grandmother.
they truly helped mold me into the person I turned out to be.
When it's love
it's more then a tingle
it's beyond a mingle
it's really love
when it's love
she's the reason
in =every season
you'll know it's love
there's words for speaking
not just for saying
it's really love
it aint about the weather
cause as long as were together
you know it's love.
she sought a better understanding
not a reprimanding
cause she's in love
tickle her fancy
gitty and dancey
we gotta groovey thing
keep me smilin
all the mean while and
you tryna make-ah me sing
we got it together
don't say I'm clever
I am just doing my thang
it's the love real love bring
it aint hat simple
polytemporal
every thing changing
like the rearrasnging
yesh Baby that's
the stuff
Media laws, also known as media regulations, are rules and laws that govern the mass media. They aim to balance the public interest with the freedom of expression, often addressing issues like censorship, copyright, defamation, and broadcast standards. The Federal Communications Commission (FCC) plays a key role in regulating media in the United States, particularly for broadcast media.
A lady I knew travelled the world
looking for the perfect mountain,
the most pleasing shape that
would attract her uplifted eyes.
She was an atheist, perhaps
in her own way she was looking for God.
Many mountains came close to perfection,
but none were impeccable enough for her.
Sitting on rocking chairs
on a cabin porch in West Virgina,
she confided all this to me.
It was a fine day,
snowy cumulus clouds,
rose like mountain ranges
in a backdrop of deep cerulean, blue.
One tall cloud was particularly outstanding.
As she looked up, she gasped,
in a low voice exclaimed, "God."
Then and there,
her spirit found its perfect mountain.
I’m sure my first words
As a child were “No!”
Followed soon after by “Why?”
But I only really realized today,
A bit surprisingly
Given my 66 years on this earth,
That I dislike following
Either other’s directions
But particularly other’s trails
Obviously wishing instead
To find my own way
Changing it as it changes
Moment by moment.
And it’s been over fifty years now
That I’ve been able to make my own way
For better or worse,
Although we all know
The journey is always better
Than the goal.
Today I hiked in to view
A wild and remote local canyon
And it only became enjoyable
Once I was free to wander
Willy-nilly up the open
Rocky and grassy slope of one side
Meandering between shade spots,
But the first mile or so
Following a cattle and game trail
Through a forest
Was more a chore
Than what it’s like to explore.
And that’s the key word
And key experience here
Exploring
All the things it means to be
An independent individual.
All the things it means to be
Alive.
(5/28/25)
Things going the way they are going, is really not good;
For today, things are not going the way they really should:-
Politics is, and will always be, about power and political control;
And today’s politicians are musky mongers, both young and old:-
Time for us to be about going and getting things as they ought to be;
Particularly with the oppressive ways things are trumping on you and me:-
Now is the time for us to be going about us no longer being droned,
By today’s Oppressor Syndrome, having us destroying ourselves and home:-
We can, and must survive, how oppressive things are going on today;
Thus, over the coming years, let’s be about bringing liberation our way:-
Of these things going on today, being united, we have survived worse;
Today, united and aware, let’s get to being about eliminating today’s curse:-
Hey, crying about things being the damn way they are today, is one thing;
Not doing anything about the way they ought to be, is a damn shame:-
Let’s stop going about insulting our ancestors in a “do nothing” shameful way,
And get on to doing what we need to be doing to halt this oppression of today!
Chiffonade
Basso Continuo Bolero.
The term "procreate"
refers to the act of reproducing,
meaning to have children or
offspring. If you are middle-aged
and wish to procreate, it means
you desire to have children later in life,
which may present some unique
challenges and considerations.
While it's possible to have children
later in life, fertility can naturally
decline, particularly in women,
as they get older.
Here's a more detailed look:
a hoax that owes their existence,
as well as their l
striking blue color
The human intellect itself has
evolved to contribute
to reproductive success.
Countertenor and.Fagotto.
Above-Board;Atwixt
conflicts sorted through
gettin ready for a Baby making
Getting the night ready for you!
TO BEING ON BOARD *
I can remember when
It was blackboards,
Which have been replaced
By their whiteboards;
Loaded with selective
Brainwashing videos:
Primarily coded to entertain
Rather than educate;
Particularly, if you’ve not chosen
Teaching as a labor of love:-
When asked how could I, at 83,
Teach without a whiteboard,
I simply replied that I was
A live retired living blackboard:
Programmed by God’s divine wisdom
And guidance to continue to engage
In a labor of love—teaching and sharing
Inspirational and dedicated problem-solving
Skills to the chosen future liberators:-
They say life slips through our fingers,
but I think it slips through our toes,
for you never know the day you might...
wrong a right
dye your hair green
out of spite
or even take the plunge
into death's dreaded depths and...
Go
And when you do,
you might think of all the things
you didn't do -
all the places you never walked,
but more particularly,
those whose shoes you never walked in,
and walked over their hearts instead,
yes, I think it's our toes that life slips through
after all
Momma must be able to read my mind.
I was only glaring at the girl from behind.
Momma said, " Whatever you do,
Say something nice.
I don't want to tell you twice!"
Stretching high on my toes,
I took a deep breath.
I mumbled about.
What came out was, "My what nice shoes you have."
Momma gave me a strange look.
Stumbling along I continued to say,
" Your toes fit so nicely, were the shoes made that way?"
I must admit I struggled that day.
Saying something nice is harder when you try.
Particularly to meet Mommas expectations,
And she gives you the evil eye.
Turns out there were no shoes,
Just feet encrusted with dirt.
No money for shoes.
It worked out that day,
The girl turned around and explained she wove flax and created shoes.
She became my best friend,
And is to this day!
The flax shoes stayed on her feet.
Having any coverings,
Was quite a treat.
I don’t particularly remember it,
Yet when midnight whispers through the air,
—My heart aches.
A sudden hurt, a lonely ache,
As if the past is breathing near,
A moment lost, yet somehow known,
When the air smelled just like this,
And I was breaking too.
It feels like my heart is holding on,
Though my mind can’t trace the past.
Some feelings don’t need memories—
They linger in the body, in the senses,
In the way the air, at a certain hour,
Can suddenly make me ache.
Perhaps it was a moment of solitude,
Or a time I needed someone near,
Yet I stood alone, beneath the night,
Carrying the silence on my own.
— Beloved
—It Feels Haunting —Yet Poetic ~
“The pen is mightier than the sword.”
that’s what someone once assured.
But that’s a fallacy it seems
when wars still haunt men’s hopes and dreams.
Mutually Assured Destruction’s an insane solution
Come now - its positively Luciferian
particularly in the hands of psychopaths
Time to do the impossible maths
Man is wired for endless war
The bluprint written in - 1984.
I’ll be gone this summer.
It’s just a fact of life.
One day when the moon settles into the heavens
and the hazy heat loses its grip on the day,
I’ll walk to the woods
and never emerge.
I’ll become one with the earth,
take my last breaths to the sounds of crickets and
squirrels scurrying to their treetop homes.
It’s not particularly something I want to do;
some days, I even find myself scoffing at this possibility.
But deep down, I know it must be done.
My existence is a wrong that must be righted
by my own hand, if by nothing quicker.
I’m better off dead.
No doubt about it.
I’ll lift the weight off my loved ones soon.
I just hope they know the last words on my lips will be a whispered
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I won a poetry prize to go visit the lake isle of Innisfree.
But I didn't wanna go, cuz there's nothing there I particularly wanted to see.
I hear there's just a clay-and-wattles cabin
with a bunch a bees a-blabbin'
and nine rows of beans, and that doesn't really interest me.
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