The stream (all workshops)
Like a flower that grows by the roadside
That blossoms with the dawn but is gone by twilight
Like a song, a ballad, a tale
That begins with a smile and ends with a tear
So are the days of our lives
So, I will sit and sing a little song
Reminiscing of the gone days and making wishes for the coming ones
Bringing to memory tales learnt by the fireside
For I have lived and I have learnt
I have loved and I have lost
But the book of life continues to unfold
When your back is against the wall
When you stumble and then you fall
When you're told you will always fail
When "You can't" gets rather stale
When the world itself is against you
When crying out in pain is all you can do
You still have to answer your heart's call
Whether you've got to run, walk, or crawl
When you aren't born with a silver spoon
When you feel you have the poor man's doom
On past failures you can't sit and lament
Success is accomplished by giving 110 Percent
Oh how times have changed.
In the years of the past
we could say just about anything that came to mind,
If that happened today itd be considered a social crime.
You can chalk it up to the new gen being sensitive.
Because they really don't know what building character is.
Sure it wasn’t pitch perfect,
But acknowledge the plain gist,
that making fun was the only way to change the narrative,
Of the negative connotation that the world thought was so imperative.
We hold more anger in our hearts,
Shrinking violet
Against the wall
Emotional autopilot
Laughter down the hall
Love me
Like you love her
Passion rolling like the sea
The heart's connoisseur
Watching from afar
Never meant to be
Wishing on a star
Why can't you see
he appears on the dance floor
a singular soul
in the midst of the crowd
like the shine of her wings
his suit coat stands out
with trousers to match
a myriad of colour
the Celtic patterns
of yin and yang twirls
already a dance
for the eyes of the seated
to stare in wonder
but ’t’s in the red shoes
that the wonder gasps
as they tap out the steps
of a quickstep solo
bizarre and obverse
to the noise of the band.
Fish, fried, baked or breaded
Along with lettuce shredded
Fries, pizza, and cheese sticks
Coffee, cakes that pass our lips
With friends that share our thoughts
Talking, laughing about their plots
It's a thing we can't pass by
Officially called a Church Fish Fry
How does time fly
without any wings
no wind
no sails of cotton
nothing
yet they all say
time flies
isn't it an anomaly
even birds with broken wings can't fly
what uniqueness
God has shown me
Time flies without wings
What will I do with all these years
Will these little poems now and then
These evening walks and and sights of sunset
Or late nights staring at the moon
And the stars
Will these gentle smiles to strangers
Whenever they meet my eye on the street
Will it all be enough?
The fire and passion of my youth is gone now
The ashes have long grown cold
All that anger is gone
The days are long but time is short
I sit still and try to think
Soon I forget what it was about
The movement of madness,
The selfishness of desire,
Who is higher ? Who is fire ?
Broken ascents,
Non-existent dividends,
Where is laughter ? Where is water ?
Deformed misinformation,
Dematerialized ambition,
What is sin ? What is wind ?
Transcendental realignment,
An ages long assignment,
Which is worth ? Which is earth ?
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