Love, a fire that warms the soul's embrace,
In its tender glow, hearts find their place,
A melody of joy, a dance so sweet,
In love's gentle rhythm, two souls meet.
It's a beacon in the darkest night,
A guiding star, a pure and endless light,
In love's embrace, we find our truest self,
A treasure found in the heart's secret delve.
Love's tender touch, a whispered sigh,
In every heart, its flame may lie.
It paints the world in shades so bright,
A beacon in the darkest night.
With open arms and hearts entwined,
In love, our souls are truly aligned.
A bond that time can never sever,
Love's the greatest gift we'll cherish forever.
In love's gentle embrace, hearts find their song,
A melody of emotions, sweet and strong.
It knows no boundaries, nor time's cruel hand,
A force that unites, across sea and land.
Love's tender touch, a balm for life's scars,
Guiding us through both the moon and the stars.
In its warmth and light, we're forever entwined,
A love so profound, eternally designed.
Love's gentle touch, a timeless art,
It weaves a melody in every heart,
In tender moments, it finds its way,
Guiding us through night and day.
A flame that burns with a steady glow,
Through joy and tears, it continues to grow,
In love's embrace, we find our grace,
A precious bond in life's vast space.
It knows no bounds, no shape, no form,
In love's sweet shelter, we find our calm,
With every beat of the heart's soft dove,
Love's the greatest force, the purest love.
In kitchens' heat, the meat does sizzle,
On the grill or in the pan's quick fizzle.
Flavors rich and savory, a carnivore's delight,
In every tender bite, a culinary height.
From steak's bold swagger to chicken's grace,
Meat's diverse tastes, a thrilling chase.
On plates around the world, it takes a seat,
A taste of life's bounty, where flavors meet.
Sizzling in the pan, a savory delight,
Meat's aroma fills the air, an appetizing sight.
From tender steaks to roasts that gleam,
Meat's flavors reign supreme.
On the grill or in a stew's embrace,
Meat's richness adds to every taste.
A culinary canvas for flavors to meet,
In each juicy bite, a savory treat.
Sizzling on the grill, a savory delight,
Meat's aroma, a culinary highlight.
From tender steaks to smoked barbecue,
Its flavors and textures, a carnivore's view.
Juicy and succulent, a hearty feast,
Meat's richness and taste, a culinary beast.
On plates around the world, it takes its seat,
A culinary pleasure, in every bite, a treat.
On the sizzling grill, meat takes its stand,
A savory delight, cooked to perfection, grand.
From tender steaks to burgers, it sizzles and sears,
In its rich flavors, culinary wonders appear.
In smoky barbecues and cozy kitchen fires,
Meat's aroma stirs our deepest desires.
A feast for carnivores, hearty and sweet,
In the world of flavors, meat's a savory treat.
On the grill, meat sizzles and sears,
A symphony of flavors, sparking cheers.
From tender steak to savory roast,
Meat's richness is a culinary boast.
In stews, it simmers, hearty and bold,
A comfort in winter, a treasure untold.
From BBQs to Sunday feasts so sweet,
Meat, a culinary delight, can't be beat.
In the world's fragile dance, we must take heed,
Climate change's whispers, a growing need.
Icebergs weep and forests sigh,
As warming temperatures reach for the sky.
The Earth's plea for help, it can't disguise,
Rising seas and melting ice, under azure skies.
In our hands, the power to rearrange,
To fight for a world that won't be estranged.
Invisible forces, our Earth does sway,
Climate change looms, won't fade away.
Icebergs weep, as temperatures rise,
Under the relentless, burning skies.
Oceans churn with a turbulent might,
Species vanish out of sight,
Humanity's choice, our planet's fate,
To heal the world or capitulate.
In a world growing warm, our planet does sigh,
Climate change whispers, a tear in the sky.
Icebergs melt, and oceans rise high,
Nature's plea, a desperate cry.
Man-made fires, the forests do burn,
A lesson unheeded, a world in concern.
Changing climates, our fate intertwined,
In unity, solutions we must find.
For Earth's fragile balance, we must fight,
To preserve our home, in the warming light.
The time to act, it draws ever near,
In battling climate change, we must all steer.
Earth's plea, a warming cry resounds,
In the changing climate, a world astounds.
Icebergs weep, forests gasp for breath,
As humanity grapples with life and death.
Invisible forces reshape the land,
Nature's balance, slipping through our hand.
We must unite, with urgency and care,
To heal the world, for all life to share.
The clock ticks on, the future unknown,
In the face of change, our actions must be shown.
To protect this planet, we must arrange,
A world where climate change we can exchange.
In Earth's embrace, a story unfolds,
Where climate change, its tale foretold.
Ice caps weep, as temperatures rise,
Underneath relentless, burning skies.
Nature's balance, now deeply scarred,
Human actions leave our planet marred.
Yet hope remains, if we unite,
To heal the Earth, make things right.
Through sustainable choices, we can mend,
The wounds of climate change, and tend,
To a world that's green, and skies so blue,
A future where nature thrives anew.
In warming whispers, Earth's plea does sing,
A tale of change, of fragile beings.
Icebergs weep as oceans rise,
Under the burning sun's relentless guise.
Forests fade, and glaciers retreat,
In the wake of man's careless heat.
Climate change, a dire, urgent call,
For united action, or Earth shall fall.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
BY WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY
POEM OF THE DAY
One Cow, Two Moos
BY J. PATRICK LEWIS
We used to have a single cow,
We called her Mrs. Rupple.
But she got struck by a lightning bolt,
And now we have a couple.
She's walking sort of funny now,
Oh pity her poor calf.
Old Mrs. Rupple gives no milk,
She gives us half-and-half.
This discussion is to share as mush poetry as you want in French or English. Feel free to use your imagination and various subject.
Dans un train filant à toute allure, L'amour se cache, tel un murmure. Les regards se croisent, timides échanges, Les cœurs se frôlent, naissent des échanges.
Les rails tracent un chemin infini, Comme les destinées qui se sont unies. Le train chante une douce mélodie, Symphonie de l'amour, en harmonie.
Les wagons sont témoins des émotions, Des doux serments et des passions. Les mains se cherchent, se tiennent serrées, Les baisers échangés, en secret murmurés.
Les paysages défilent, tels des tableaux, Laissant derrière eux le passé, les maux. L'amour grandit, se renforce dans ce voyage, Comme une flamme qui brûle sans dommage.
Et lorsque le train ralentit son allure, Les amoureux se regardent, plein d'assurance. Car l'amour est un voyage sans fin, Qui se poursuit au-delà des chemins.
Ainsi, dans ce train de l'amour, Les cœurs se lient pour toujours. Et chaque voyage devient une aventure, Où l'amour règne en maître, en toute pureté.
BY KIMIKO HAHN
things don't die or remain damaged
but return: stumps grow back hands,
a head reconnects to a neck,
a whole corpse rises blushing and newly elastic.
Later this vision is not True:
the grandmother remains dead
not hibernating in a wolf's belly.
Or the blue parakeet does...
The Butterfly in the garden,
Has rainbow wings.
The honeybee in the garden,
Is yellow and black.
The birds in the garden,
Are red, blue and pink.
But why is the garden,
Janeth Flores Camacho August 15, 2023
Glass tears, delicate and fine
Crafted with care, each one divine
Fragile beauty, vulnerability, and grace
A sense of sensitivity, etched on its face
Evoking emotions, from awe to sorrow
A master ́s work, today and tomorrow
Crafted by skilled hands, an artisan's art
A delicate tear, a masterpiece from the heart
A stunning piece, a treasure to hold
A glass tear, a story to be told
A work of beauty, for all to see
A timeless piece, that will forever be.
Courage is strength
People tend to think vulnerability is
The weakness of the soul.
But weakness isn't necessarily bad.
To lack strength in the core of our existence,
The embodiment of the human soul and spirit- something
Many people lack to understand.
Yet being vulnerable is somehow undesirable.
But to share our weaknesses is what makes
Us so vulnerable, and showing our
Vulnerability is the nativity of strength.
But strength is courage
And courage is strength.
THE SALT IN THE SEA
The salt in the sea
and in my eyes
carries my memories
and hollow dreams.
The beach nearby my village house
hides years of my childhood—
waiting to be recovered
beneath the sand and the shiny pebbles.
As the earth quakes,
Splatter across dull nears;
Everything remains hidden in the crevices of a tragic tableau.
as an entity unseen makes its way
small indentations in the landscape
It carefully skins the layers of its cage
The absurd, leaking balloons turn solid.
Nothing transcribes as well as the pools of Lakewater
Carved by the blaze
FLY LITTLE BIRDY
Fly little birdy
Don't be shy
You can fall but never give up
Fly as if you were on a slipping slide
Your wings are shaped like the number nine
It is fine
Never be scared this will soon be over
But in the meantime try to fly up high
You will be free
Like other birdies
Living a nice and clean
All you could need is a little push from your master peace
Mother nature will try to contain you
But not for long
Sometimes you just need to push yourself
Fly birdy fly high where you can't be seen
Life is denial but don't let that stop you
Believe in what you are to become
It's like life is in darkness
You will soon see light
Even if you can't fly
Your success depends on you
It's time to fly out of your nest
Momma is not gonna take care of you
It’s time to let go
Just go with your life flow
You will soon see what you really are
But for now
E.P. Mexi July 25, 2023
The hound seeks fresh buds all noon,
For it used to be a bud itself,
The hound desperately stares at the moon,
For it’s never seen such wealth,
The hound senses death comin’ soon,
For tomorrow it shall take its last breath,
The hound to tears it’s immune,
For all joy it long ago shed,
The hound roams around the fields of June,
For life shall it pass to buds n’ create pelf,
The hound collapses next to flower Dune,
For its flesh melts away like Agiel,
The hound’s veins grow roots n’ flourish into trees of prune,
For the very life it compelled,
The new born embraced the hewn,
For a hound he once was himself.
Absolutely you are right. Poems are beautiful!
TO HAVE COURAGE
Maximiliano Zapata July 11, 2023
In times of fear and doubt, we seek The strength to rise and be unique To face the challenges ahead
And push away the thoughts of dread
But where does courage come from, pray? Does it arrive with dawn? Or must we search within our soul to find the will to take control?
Perhaps it lies in taking risks
And trusting in our own abilities or in the knowledge that we're not alone
And others have walked this path before
It may be found in facing our fears and standing tall, despite the tears Or in the simple act of faith
That tomorrow brings a brighter day
Wherever courage may be found It is a beacon, shining bright
A guiding star to light the way
And lead us through the darkest night
So let us seek the courage within To chase our dreams and strive to win For though the road may be long and hard
With courage, we can go far.
Nothing Gold Can Stay
By Robert Frost
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
“There Will Come Soft Rain”
by Sara Teasdale
There will come soft rain and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;
Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;
And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.
“Fire And Ice”
by Robert Frost
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
No man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thy friend’s
Or of thine own were:
Any man’s death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind,
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.
I have eaten
that were in
you were probably
they were delicious
and so cold
I do not like them in a box
I do not like them with a fox
I do not like them in a house
I do not like them with a mouse
I do not like them here or there
I do not like them anywhere
I do not like green eggs and ham
I do not like them Sam I am
I want you to know
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
if each day,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.
O my Luve is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune.
So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.
The time come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
Go to the end of the path until you get to the gate.
Go through the gate and head straight out towards the horizon.
Keep going towards the horizon.
Sit down and have a rest every now and again,
But keep on going, just keep on with it.
Keep on going as far as you can.
That’s how you get there.
Curtains forcing their will
against the wind,
exchanging dreams with
seraphim. The city
drags itself awake on
subway straps; and
I, an alarm, awake as a
rumor of war,
lie stretching into dawn,
unasked and unheeded.
In less than fifteen lines, Maya Angelou’s masterful words paint a portrait of the dizzying breadth of New York City, exuding a sense of both wistfulness and melancholia at the site of an awakening metropolis. She lays bare the adrenaline of being wrapped into the tapestry of a bustling city, whilst simultaneously exposing the overwhelming sense of loneliness found in these most dazzling of places.
How happy is the little stone
That rambles in the road alone,
And doesn’t care about careers,
And exigencies never fears;
Whose coat of elemental brown
A passing universe put on;
And independent as the sun,
Associates or glows alone,
Fulfilling absolute decree
In casual simplicity.
Emily Dickinson’s “Little Stone” is one of the most poignant 10 line poems that encapsulates her profound introspection and profound ability to find beauty in the smallest of things.
And then the day came,
when the risk
to remain tight
in a bud
was more painful
than the risk
When was the day you stopped conforming and started leading your own life? For me, it came right after high school. Seeking the approval of others whilst sacrificing my own identity? Yeah, that wasn’t going to cut it anymore. It was time to take the plunge, aka, “blossom”, and discard any remnants of external expectations. As cliché as it sounds, it’s a vital life lesson that comes with time, and few have described this realisation as powerfully as Nin.
Joyce Kilmer – Trees
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
We’ve received some memorable artistic portrayals of trees over the years. The Ents in Lord Of The Rings are ancient and wise and Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree is utterly heartbreaking (if you know, you know). However, Kilmer’s portrayal positions trees in the highest regard. The human-like qualities he gives trees are metaphorically faultless, and the final couplet drives home his arguments’ significance even further, by claiming the medium he’s utilising isn’t even worthy for such a beautiful feature of nature.
I'm nobody! Who are you?
by Emily Dickinson
I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us -- don't tell!
They'd advertise -- you know!
How dreary to be somebody!
How public like a frog
To tell one's name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
The Power of a Smile
by Tupac Shakur
The power of a gun can kill
and the power of fire can burn
the power of wind can chill
and the power of a mind can learn
the power of anger can rage
inside until it tears u apart
but the power of a smile
especially yours can heal a frozen heart
by Maya Angelou
I keep on dying again.
Veins collapse, opening like the
Small fists of sleeping
Memory of old tombs,
Rotting flesh and worms do
Not convince me against
And cold defeat live deep in
Lines along my face.
They dull my eyes, yet
I keep on dying,
Because I love to live.
Life Through My Eyes
Life through my bloodshot eyes
would scare a square 2 death
and never a moment 2 rest
Fun and games are few
but treasured like gold 2 me
cuz I realize that I must return
2 my spot in poverty
But mock my words when I say
my heart will not exist
unless my destiny comes through
and puts an end 2 all of this
The Rose that Grew from Concrete
Did you hear about the rose that grew
from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature's law is wrong it
learned to walk with out having feet.
Funny it seems, but by keeping it's dreams,
it learned to breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else ever cared.
I had no time to hate because
I had no time to hate, because
The grave would hinder me,
And life was not so ample I
Could finish enmity.
Nor had I time to love, but since
Some industry must be,
The little toil of love, I thought,
Was large enough for me.