Archive for the ‘poetry’ Category

Color: Blue

“I am a wild flower,

Magnificent and tragic.

I overgrow the daisies

And grasses around me,

Beautiful in my own way.

But together with the lilies,

The tulips, and the daffodils,

I’ve also overgrown you.

I threw a shadow over your soul,

And without the light of the sun

How are you supposed to grow? ” (Selected p.83)

From The Colour of Kindness by Emma-Lidewij and is available through Amazon.  At eighteen I had not begun writing poetry. I came across this poem and share with my readers.


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And Hafiz came to me,-

in the dawn or in the middle of a night,

I do not remember,

But the wisp of reality was totally gone:

I was, rising from my own dreamworld

A tiger with all seeing eye

to tear apart Nature  and the poet said,

Never mind the broken shards of worlds

At your feet, of the worlds sweetest pathways

have struck the bitter  root of regrets;

Never bother picking them up-

Go back to sleep, sleep of the dawn

Always keep the tryst with night.


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Solitude ©


Standing here on top of a hill

I can look west and east ,

And feast my eyes if I look up

Face of heaven, what a bliss


I am a man! And here I am !

Never close knit in humanity than now

I have left men of my ilk

Far below to pillage and bilk!



Standing here on top of a hill

I can hear the patter of their drift:

Why lie, why dissemble

Their smiles always cast a chill!


I am a man! And here I am !

Never close knit in humanity than now

I have left men of my ilk

Far below to pillage and bilk!


From up here on top of a hill

Clouds merrily roll along

No confederation

Of nations there! What a bliss!

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A Reprise-poem ©

Trump’s U-ez of A make me want puke

Oh let them have oh give them as much nuke

With friendly fire they will set world on fire!

Oh what a jolly show, the world on fire!


Fireworks as on the Fourth of July!

Tell Bannon and his crew how

The world works they will lie

And Trump will get his show!


How U-ez of A was once swell place

Where Satchmo too-ted and G.I Elvis

All shook up this damn joint on fire

Oh Woodstock sizzled with flower pow’r.


Fireworks as on the Fourth of July….

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Sonnet XVIII- To the White House

Shall I compare thee to a home from home
To which one moves in and leaves at the end?
Fame and fortune meet alike in a home

As stately home the White House do mend

Sometimes the pride of mien (in guests has charm)
But four years too long to keep their charade,

And are impeach’d or booted out at end of term;
And wise or fair in their stature surely degrade,
By chance, or people want change for change sake-
But thy pillars stand firm, You have seen it all

White House the Event for those who would make
To be seen, or led round though it were a ball.

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

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Layla and Majnun-a fragment

Layla and Majnun


I was, in honour your equal

Sir, but lost it all for love,

And do not pass me with a mien so ill

‘What I lost is life, a trifle I trow.’



My honour was of a title not my own:

Pomp and the circumstance

By birth for some happily a boon

My life lost its savor of mischance.



Do you love honour for its sake

It’s sheen held e’er pristine?

Or saunter the length of your bourn

At will for pleasure rake?

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Laughing Song ©


When the birds go south they fly from Jack Frost,-

Oh cold is his breath, they scan east an’ the west;

When caught in currents they steer their own course

And like a feather they are none the worse;


When the greenswards feast on liquid sun

And the grasshoppers, the gnats join the fun;

When the moths and beetles romp around

The sky rains their death, the birds make no sound!


Geese sing while the storks preen their plumes white:

‘ Where our table al fresco is complete

We forgive Jack Frost who blew us southward,

After such a feast, not to forgive is hard’.


Source of my inspiration is given below:

Original poem

Laughing Song By William Blake


When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy,

And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;

When the air does laugh with our merry wit,

And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;


when the meadows laugh with lively green,

And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene,

When Mary and Susan and Emily

With their sweet round mouths sing “Ha, ha he!”


When the painted birds laugh in the shade,

Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread:

Come live, and be merry, and join with me,

To sing the sweet chorus of “Ha, ha, he!”




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