Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all.
Emily Dickinson
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On a road that is too steep
murky memories are hard to keep.
Ineffable injuries are very very deep
They move at a creep but
they ‘ve grown to a huge heap .
Sour sadness has taken a long leap
and my soul proves to be so cheap
that I start to wheeze and weep
then I plunge into a nightmarish sleep.
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The past is inspiration ,
the present is perspiration
and the future is aspiration.
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My heart leaps up when I behold
A Rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the man;
And I wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
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The thunder roars
the lightning strikes
high hopes soars
to the seven skies.
It pours down blood
a rebellion is in the bud .
The people’s stood up as one
the uprising has begun.
Under the cover of the night
guided by flickering fire torch lights
they gather for a fierce fight
to regain their confiscated rights .
Fed up with living in obscurity
They let out a cry for dignity;
they ‘re Thirsty for freedom
they’re ready for martyrdom.
full of rage , full of pride
they march side by side
they take long sure strides
cos in victory they confide.
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Edgar Allan poe
From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
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