The round dance of the world is a cry from bottomless years.
Celestial waves grant me beautiful music.
In a flash the years pass, destinies drift away.
A star sparkles at the heart of time — it is magic.
Wave after wave, surging, the oceans break the rocks.
Listening to your voice, the sound of your steps, a part of me.
I feel taller; I see you again playing — it is the past.
Years are never long enough; we always run after what?
The day will come when I leave quietly, with nothing,
but a soul loaded with so much — an encyclopedia.
Above all, to share, to keep nothing, to serve what is good.
On that day, the painter of words will remain a link to life.
Poet of a time, all the strength of the wind licks my sail.
My son, the song of love flows in me — it is for you.
A glimmer in the sky carries my heart, a dust of stars.
And my brightness that night, up there, will shine only for you.
— Joël Charvillat
I’ve been unashamedly holiday focused,
everything fit together like a puzzle,
all febrile worries were pardoned,
we took haven in our comforts.
I slept shamefully late,
We weaponized fun.
The world seemed parasitology free,
pharmacology, pathology and histology free,
if not entirely anatomy free wink wink
and except for my mom, assessment free.
It’s been great, it’s been Christmas!
But soon, my cares will, again, be fined tuned
by the Gordian knot of learning
and it’s ungentle reckonings.
If it weren’t all asked for - I’d be pissed.
.
.
A Song for this:
Coney Island Man by Swing Out Sister
Little darling, thy fada wears a garland of frowns,
The breda must explain their jokes to him across the night,
Worry devours his heart,his wallet emptied of light,
Fallen sistrins and soaring debts weigh him down.
Parasitic friends,the firewater that hauls him down,
Your mada' open relationship haunts him without end
You poor black girl,his paternal duty no hand can mend,
So little darling,mockingbird sings sagacity' gentle crown.
'' Motivate him'',cries nightingale,'' seek angels that heel,
Set calm and clear,boundaries firm and the rule of right,
Recall the days when Rastafari made his soul bright ,
Technicalized guidance cuts through despair and anger's steel.
Sistren and fada ,simmer down a little bit,sooth the strife,
And read The Holy Piby for blessings in holy Jah life''
Glossary of Useful non pompous English terms:
Fada-father
breda-brother
sistrins -sisters
mada--mother
Rastafari--the best religion
technicalized-professional
Holy Piby-Bible of Rastafari
(
In the name of (Eternal) Father
The (Eternal) Son
And of the (Eternal) Holy Spirit
Amen
Poetry Form: Quatrain
Date Written: May 18, 2025
Time Written: 7:06pm
I'm in a dream,
Peeing into a stream,
A snake peeped out,
Some on its snout.
A frog close nearby,
Came out to pry,
It got some too,
From me it withdrew.
I found it funny,
The way a bunny,
Growled near a tree,
Far from my pee.
Then I woke up,
I rushed to cleanup
Another bedwetting today again.
Dry night in vain.
My Teacher Is The Light Of My Life
Birds sing sweetly in the morning
The sky is clear without clouds and blue
My teacher came riding a bicycle
Bring useful knowledge
For our beloved ones
My teacher gave me a role model
Without tiredness or time
The light of your lamp will always live
Illuminates every step of the journey
Your knowledge will be useful throughout your life
My teacher told me
When you grow up you will become a useful person
To the nation
I pinned the message in my heart
All your services will never be forgotten
I used to dread,
Going to bed.
Momma said, "No shoes in bed.
Take them off instead!"
I'd sneak my feet,
Under the sheet.
Fold them flat,
So, my shoes wouldn't peek.
Then in the middle of the night,
Up they'd pop.
Right in my Mommas sight.
She'd slide them off my feet.
Next morning,
I had to tie my shoes back on.
Always would lose.
The shoes would come undone,
Whenever I would run!
My friends would try to help.
Tied my shoes tight.
Double knot, pretty bow, I was a sight.
Would last until that night.
Momma said, "No shoes in bed!
Not tonight"
Then I discovered the slide on kind,
No knots or bows.
I was sublime.
In the morning,
I slide my feet in.
What a way for my day to begin.
When I'm older,
I'll learn to tie a shoe.
Not now, with my slide in shoe.
Tell me true,
What do you do?
Do you wash in the sink,
So, you won't stink?
Well, I do too!
Tell me true,
What do you do?
Do you comb your hair,
So, people don't stare?
Well, I do too!
Tell me true,
What do you do?
Do you tie your two shoes,
Before going to the zoo?
Well, I do too!
Tell me true,
What do you do?
Do you get very quiet on Christmas day,
And pray you'll get a present that day?
Well, I do too!
I think we are alike,
Me and you!
"please sit on your sitzfleisches,"the 4th grade teacher said
Preschoolers do not understood German, so they continued to stand
"Sit on your hindquarters!" This was stated a bit louder.
The kids stared at her, still not understanding.
"Your haunches, your petootsies, your derrieres!"
They looked totally consternated now.
A preschool teacher walked in.
"Sit on your pockets," she said.
They all sat.
Tiny hands
Pure hearts
Silly smiles
Footprint art
Cheerful shrieks
New found words
Belly laughs
Singing heard
As I open up the door
These are the sounds I hear
And everyday it gives me a reason
To have a smile stretching from ear to ear
Drooling along,
Every day.
No matter,
What people say!
My mother says," Shut your mouth! Your spewing drool all about!"
My father says, "I'm going to bed! No more drool on my head!"
My mouth is shut tight,
But the drool takes flight!
Over my lips,
Down my chin,
On my shirt,
Where it all soaks in!
I have a lavish style of dress,
Only the very best!
And if anyone is to check,
They know my clothes,
Due to the spatter of drool,
Across my shirt and under my nose!
I'm the only one with drool splattered clothes.
As everyone knows,
The boy who drools,
Wears the best clothes!
Once I went to work,
For a company that makes pullover shirts.
They had to test,
Which material was best!
To absorb the least sweat.
So, my drool has paid off,
Now I wear a new shirt every day,
With drool dropping every which way!
In the meantime,
I used my brain,
Started a company with shirts that don't stain.
Dear driver of the bus, drive your bus with care and concern for the children
Be not in haste but be prompt, and be mindful of every rule while on the road
Dear Bus Monitor, count the children entering and tick every child that leaves
Your job is done if the ‘ins’ and ‘outs’ tally, I give you a register and pen for that
But that is not all, must search every nook and corner of the bus in the end
Like you are looking for hidden treasure, if you draw blank, it’ll be a pleasure.
When I look back on my childhood
the pre-school days were the best
living as an only child in the country
although adopted was treated as a guest
In my bedroom, I played with my toys
lots of farm figures were such fun
felt like I had my very own farm
took a break when I went out to run
One of my favourites is Betta Build
to build little houses just like new
also loved my Meccano set
spent endless hours doing all I knew
AS a loner I loved my own company
spending quality time with just me
such sweet contentment to enjoy
gives you a feeling of being free
Having a stammer caused to be alone
but don't regret it, no not at all
for learned such a lot about myself
years later, able to ride over many a fall
(This is about autobiographical account of my childhood. The life I remember from my pre-school memories which were my favourite years.)
Dirt is great,
To grow crops,
Build houses,
Mix with water,
Smear all about.
On the other hand,
Dirt is all over the land,
And I would like to see,
A little less dirt on me!
I track it into the house,
Leave great lumps all about.
Stain my clothes,
Have dirty shins.
Makes me wonder,
Could I plant seeds in this fertile stuff?
Grow my own groceries,
And carry them about?
Perhaps let miniature cows graze in my hair,
Have milk and cheese to store behind my knees?
Find a few small chickens to eat bugs out of my ears,
Lay eggs in my pockets,
To keep them quite near.
I guess dirt could be great,
Particularly if your covered of late!
When you at very first
Walk into a room
Remember to take your time
To gauge the mood
And get to know
The audience you are
Playing to as well
And most probably
You will end up getting on
And manage pretty well
To be able to leave
Without the prospect and thought of you
Being the hot topic of conversation
Gossiping and talking about you
Behind your back
As soon as you have just left
Preschool Categories
Definition | What is Preschool in Poetry?
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