That tomorrow Starts today. That today Represents the present That was passed on to us In the past. That the lefts of yesterday Will always have a say In the telling of our history. Yesterday Seeds of greed Were sown Infertile soil Growing into weeds that coil On our crops to spoil The good of our toil. Today The world is on her knees Whilst humanity is on his ease Ignorant in his bliss Causing illness and all things amiss. Not hearing the pleas Of a land plagued by fleas That crossed the seven seas Seeking to spread disease Onto the bees That pollinate our peace. They say That yesterday Ends today. That today Presents us With the chance To write our wrongs. That the rights of today Will always have a say In the telling of our future. That even though our history Is clouded in misery Our actions today Can craft a better story- Telling of our history.
True happiness consists not in the multitude of friends, but in their worth and choice.
Oh! how it puts a poet in much pain. Counting syllable after syllable Just to come up with the perfect refrain. Five tercets, only a single quatrain In which to tell my most fetching fable? Oh! does it put a poet in much pain. How much longer can i suffer the strain On my mind, of wanting to be able To come up with the most perfect refrain? Many a page on which i left a stain Writing a refrain juicier than an apple. Oh! how it puts a poet in much pain. On days when my head is on a low plain I sometimes wonder if my mind's stable After thinking up the perfect refrain. Was there really ever something to gain In trying to write a good villanelle Either than the cries of a poets pain When he tries to make the perfect refrain?
However long the night, the dawn will break.
There once was a man from Windhoek
That had never read a book Till in the library he set foot With his unusually big feet. He left, unable to stand the librarians odd look.
A generous man forgets what he gives and remembers what he receives.
Continuous effort, not strength or intelligence is the key to unlocking our potential.
Do not expect sunshine and clear blue skies On your odyssey through the sea of life. Always endeavour to weather the storm. Sailing across the ocean with sore eyes Crying because at home you left your wife. Do not expect sunshine and clear blue skies. When you are sinking, and sharks start to swarm In the waters that are with troubles rife Always endeavour to weather the storm. When the world wants to fill your head with sighs Then happily try to seek out the strife. Do not expect sunshine and clear blue skies. When the forces of nature break your dorm Do not in your back, try to sheathe a knife Always, endeavour to weather the storm. When the bold bitter winter starts to form And the sapling summer plants start to thrive Do not expect sunshine and clear blue skies Always endeavour to weather the storm.
Image by Brigitte Werner from Pixabay
Image by Ylanite Koppens from Pixabay They call it the black and white jungle
For you might not live for very long Here, were danger lurks in every corner. Always be ready for a battle And watch out for dangers in the throng Of this place they call the black and white jungle. You will need to be a Grandmaster Or in the very least, very strong Here, were dangers lurk in every corner. Safe, sound and secure in your castle Is the place you should always belong Not here in the black and white jungle. Perhaps one day; when you are older Looking back at days when you were young In this place were danger lurks in every corner. You will see everything clearer And realise there is nothing wrong In calling it the black and white jungle. This place, were dangers lurk in every corner.
The great and glorious masterpiece of humanity is to know how to live with purpose.
Image by 【中文ID】愚木混株 【ins-ID】cdd20 from Pixabay Shall i, compare thee to a dream of Spring?
For when i entered a state of slumber My melancholy mood, began blooming Into a mood, that brought fourth its flower. Thou art more sweeter than a buzzing bee. A conquerer; more regal than a queen. Pollinating my sadness into glee. Turning the dry desert , of my heart green. Of you, the very air must be jealous. Scent from heaven; thou aroma will lure Many men to come your way and make fuss. In illness, hoping you will be their cure. But alas; i awoke from my slumber Feeling cold from the bold bitter winter.
When anger rises, think of consequences. Confucius