How you remind me

by Megzr

This is how you remind me of who I really am:

Your smile in times of terror and pain

- reminds that that your spirit and mine are stronger than we have ever given ourselves credit for.

AFTERTHOUGHT

Once thought could there really be or is it just a myth
something soooo powerful that you cannot see
now I do believe in a higher power greater than me

PURE

Want to believe be saved
reach up to Pearly Gates of Heaven
want to be good do good
be a friend
among loving Christian friends
no longer misunderstood
can't be telling silly little white lies
living in sin
though at times I hardly try
for once in my life
want to be Blessed
pure in heart
like my personal Savior

UNTANGLED

UNTANGLED
 
 
“Please let my hair grow, Mother, don’t cut it.
A trimmed tree
Is no place for song birds.”
                                     -Anonymous: Landeys
                                     Afghanistan (Pashto)
 
 
My Mama never cut my hair
But for once, when I was a girl
And it had become a knotted rope.
A nest had formed, beyond untangling,
And it had to be cut out,
Although the song birds had already
Found its shelter.
One by one I had to let them go,
Say goodbye to song.
 

How can I Walk Away?

I could never walk away from you
Everything I feel is real
I search within each day to find
When we meet it was revealed
How can I walk away?
I feel you each and everyday
My heart, mind and soul are bound
Now my dreams are real
I see you in my thoughts
Reality I now feel
How can I walk away?
I feel you each and everyday
My world has begaun to change
Nothing else feels so right

The Dismal Throng

The Fairy Tale of Life is done,
The horns of Fairyland cease blowing,
The Gods have left us one by one,
And the last Poets, too, are going!
Ended is all the mirth and song,
Fled are the merry Music-makers;
And what remains? The Dismal Throng
Of literary Undertakers!

A Dirge For Kings

Strange are the bitter things
God wreaks on cruel Kings;
Sad is the cup drunk up
By Kings accurst.
In secret ways and strong
God doth avenge man's wrong.
The least, God saith, is Death,
And Life the worst.

Sit under the sweet skies;
Think how Kings set and rise,
Think, wouldst thou know the woe
In each proud breast?
Sit on the hearth and see
Children look up to thee—
Think, wouldst thou own a throne,
Or lowly rest?

Translated from Geibel

O say, thou wild, thou oft deceived heart,
What mean these noisy throbbings in my breast?
After thy long, unutterable woe
Wouldst thou not rest?

Fall'n from Life's tree the sweet rose-blossom lies,
And fragrant youth has fled. What made to seem
This earth as fair to thee as Paradise,
Was all a dream.

The blossom fell, the thorn was left to me;
Deep from the wound the blood-drops ever flow,
All that I have are yearnings, wild desires,
And wrath and woe.

Transformations

Portion of this yew
Is a man my grandsire knew,
Bosomed here at its foot:
This branch may be his wife,
A ruddy human life
Now turned to a green shoot.

These grasses must be made
Of her who often prayed,
Last century, for repose;
And the fair girl long ago
Whom I often tried to know
May be entering this rose.

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