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 Nov 2016
beth fwoah dream
songs of wild skies
where the sea’s ghosts
gather wave and mist,
where the dark sea
drifts and the wind
scatters petals
curves the rushing
of a tide that longs
to be free, waits
waits forever to
dream.
love dream
 Nov 2016
JRF
The Sun Always Rises

and the dark always
gives way to the light.
Remember that,
in turbulent and troubling times.
Like these times
right here and right now that we are immersed in.

We are wading through this sludge with trepidation and angst and with the fever
of revolution.

Do we fight? Retreat to our separate corners?
I say fight.
Be bold.
Be ****** and resolute and be belligerent in thought and word.

Do move forward, kindly, and with the spirit of all that have ever been repressed- with the spirit that breaks the chains of uniformity and oppression.

Fight for freedom.
Fight for love.
Fight for a hopeful future.
Thoughts on current affairs...Let freedom ring-MLK junior
 Nov 2016
Lvice
I've lost a lot of people and my soul won't heal from that...but my body will. And as long as it is able I will keep running,and if I can't run then I will walk. If I can no longer walk then I will crawl. When crawling is useless then I will pray. However it is I will find a way to keep on moving.
 Nov 2016
Valsa George
Oh, my Father in Heaven
Guarding me from all perils and trials  
And sets my heart free of all clutter
For you, my songs of praise, I reserve

All my life, I shall sing
Without fail, in bloom or gloom
On every unfolding day
Through months and years
Till death and beyond
Let my songs sail across the skies
And with the chorus of the heavenly band, unite

Oh, the benevolent Lord of all creation
Custodian of all wealth
Contriver of birth and death
The Master Crafts man
Everything is your handiwork.

The lofty mounts
Veiled in misty snow
The verdant dales
Lush and still
The fathomless deep
Where mysteries peep
All the flowers
That bloom and wither
All things
Bright and beautiful
Everything, above and below
In all,
Let me behold thy grace
And sing Thee praise!

Oh! Redeemer of Mankind
Guide me through the dark
Guard my steps where dangers lurk
Hold my hand
And never loosen your grip

Make me face the light
Illumine me with wisdom serene
And fill me with love divine;
So that you be glorified
Here, on Earth
And in Heaven be!
Moments pass,
Days go by,

Time, it is too honest -
Arrogant, not shy.

It comes, and it goes,
It cares not, for your emotions,

It steals your dreams,
It throws them into
the deepest depths,
of the darkest, vastest oceans.

Time, it spares no pain,
It reminds you, constantly,
That it will soon take you...

It trys so hard
to make you anxious -
It will eventually break you!

It teases you
with the most pleasurable moments,
Those, that you will never forget...

It gives you special memories -
most precious,
and a few,
that you may live long enough
to regret.

Time, is an absolute blessing.
However, its inevitable end,
feels like a massive curse,

Time,
It ticks away faster
As you get older,
Making all of your anxieties
Feel horribly worse.

Time, it is impetuous,
And, unfortunately,
There a many souls
Who lack appreciation
For every blessed, precious,
Unstoppable second.

Sadly, they realise this,
Only when their final moments
Are about to come - when their last Breath is about to be taken;
When their soul
Has been beckoned.

Time,
It kisses you,
Then it runs,

It causes chaos,
Daily.
But, still,
With every second of it,
That we are blessed,
It makes us,
The lucky ones!

By Lady R.F ©2016
He hasn't buried the baby within
but today he buried the ashes of his baby
crying like a baby
as the river devoured the bone dusts
and all the remnants
of the cuddles and kisses
hollowing him to remember
the guest of his blood
that would feed on his grief
for the rest of his life.
August afternoon, a father cremates his baby child on a ghat by the river Ganga.
Huddled in the lantern light
they sing of life and death
of love long lost but living
in the ashes of time
a yearning for home
walking the long roads sunburnt
in blistered feet
in the knowledge
healing of pain
is only a rain away
and life is too short
but never too short
to bathe in the power of god
that makes a pauper
be a king
under the canopy of stars.
Night with them under the stars, November 12, 8.30pm.
Bauls: Rural folk singers of Bengal, the mystic minstrels.
 Nov 2016
South-by-Southwest
Old age turns the page . . .
the leaf thrives from underneath
Days are made out
of hollow light . . .
night now remnants
of silence in grief

The air I breathe
once was your life
Yet our blood never mingled
Upon every page turns
the green leaf in air
The binding spine . . .
the trunk's despair
 Nov 2016
SøułSurvivør
.  
                                  //////    
                                    /////////      
                                   feathers///
                              are as/////
                                     cloud canyons
                                 they are as///
                              angel hair///
                            or they are///
                          as black as//
                        doom // the///
                            color of despair  
                        they are bright  
                  as parrots//////
                    emerald rainbow
              hues // rubies //
               topaz // peridot //
              deepest sapphire
          blue // but the ///
            best thing about      
        feathers // or /////    
           plumes if you poets    
      will /// if they are      
      slipped // if they are    
clipped /// they /////    
make a clever //////      
Q                                  
U                                        
I                     ­                       
L                                        ­      
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========­====================


SoulSurvivor
(C) 11/14/2016
I hope this comes out!
 Nov 2016
Walter W Hoelbling
the day
when even the not so faithful
were tempted to pray
for the health of the nation
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