The Seven Divisions of Womanhood
To Shakespeare I give all due respect,
But the world must be a huge theater I suspect.
Woman’s the major player if not the star,
For she influences all with love from afar.
The main acts of her drama as one envisions,
Occur for my audience in seven divisions.
First the helpless infant in her nurse’s arm,
Fresh from God’s hands smiling and warm.
Yet guiltless and untouched by worldly strife,
She is but a stranger to sin in this dawn of life.
In her pink crib she looks cute and pure,
With a smile on her lips so modestly demure.
Next as a tender young girl of school age,
With pigtails and grace she enters the stage.
An innocent young girl loving dolls and toys,
She has no taste for bruises, math or boys.
Her voice is like music whenever she speaks,
Explaining with emotion the desire she seeks.
In the sweet summer age she becomes a blossom,
And weathers the waves in the role of stardom.
Now she’s a young lady with a pure, creative mind,
Nursing dreams of a life moral and refined.
When put into the orbit of heart-consuming men,
Overcoming dying hope, her world she has to win.
As a wife she makes her home a true nirvana,
Winning from the man she loves her merited honor.
She is in hard times his source of consolation,
And in times of pleasure his joy and elation.
As a lover and a mate she continues to perform,
Keeping house and home through every storm.
Now for the most blessed age of female life,
She assumes the role of mother as well as wife.
Like God's miracle, the first is released with a hurl,
Then with tears and a scream from womb to world.
Before long baby laughs aloud and pleads for caress,
And mother love with playful smile grants the request.
Next the vestiges of youth appear a distant dream,
And spring's lovely buds now attest to her final esteem,
As she enters her mournful stage of the widow's woe,
Her glance upon her children falls as her eyes overflow.
She has lost all her young heart once fondly enjoyed,
And in the business of change of life she's fully employed.
With the final division, youth is now a faded flower,
And she can bask in the coolness of the evening hour.
As she enjoys the reflection of her progeny having fun,
She is reminded that maternal pleasures are not yet done.
She continues to impart knowledge necessary to sustain,
As she guides their hopes to reach for the heavenly domain.
poem by Albert Price
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When I Was A Young Girl
(A Song of Old Ballads)
WHEN I was a young girl, all in a green arbor,
When I was a young girl in Springtimes gone by
All the long days I went singing and smiling,
Down by the roses the sweet days beguiling,
Love in the arbor and love in the sky . . .
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl,
When I was a young girl, how happy was I!
Oh, the long days I must sit at my sampler,
Oh, the slow way that the still time would go!
I longed to be running across the bright heather,
'Off with the silk gown and on with the leather,
Following the raggle-taggle gypsies, oh!'
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl,
When I was a young girl, a long time ago!
When I was a young girl in days that were golden,
When I was a young girl, and life had no smart,
All the world seemed a place for my playing,
Full of great lovers to come to me, saying,
'Madam, I give you the keys of my heart . . .'
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl,
When I was a young girl, and dreaming apart!
When I was a young girl, I dreamed of my lover,
A tall cavalier who should whisper me low,
'Love, on your lips are red roses a-blowing,
I am your true love, and fast is time going
Am I your true love? Oh, say yes or no!'
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl–
When I was a young girl, a long time ago!
When I was a young girl there came my true lover,
Swiftly I knew him in glad days gone by;
Never a sword or a lovelock or feather,
But oh, at his touch 'twas our hearts came together,
Love in the arbor and love in the sky . . .
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl,
When I was a young girl, how happy was I!
poem by Margaret Widdemer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Youth And Lordship
MY young lord's the lover
Of earth and sky above,
Of youth's sway and youth's play,
Of songs and flowers and love.
Yet for love's desire
Green youth lacks the daring;
Though one dream of fire,
All his hours ensnaring,
Burns the boy past bearing—
The dream that girls inspire.
My young lord's the lover
Of every burning thought
That Love's will, that Love's skill
Within his breast has wrought.
Lovely girl, look on him
Soft as music's measure;
Yield him, when you've won him,
Joys and toys at pleasure;
But to win your treasure,
Softly look upon him.
My young lord's the lover
Of every tender grace
That woman, to woo man,
Can wear in form or face.
Take him to your bosom
Now, girl, or never;
Let not your new blossom
Of sweet kisses sever;
Only guard for ever
Your boast within your bosom.
My young lord's the lover
Of every secret thing,
Love-hidden, love-bidden
This day to banqueting.
Lovely girl, with vaunting
Never tempt to-morrow:
From all shapes enchanting
Any joy can borrow,
Still the spectre Sorrow
Rises up for haunting.
And now my lord's the lover
Of ah! so many a sweet,—
Of roses, of spouses,
As many as love may greet.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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My Life - The Story of Young Boy - Pt.1
She yelled and took the bottle
And then my dad yelled back
Young boy crying in the corner
Memories of my childhood are all black
“I hate you” she screams
But he hates her more
Their hatred builds
As they even their score
Pins her to the couch
Saying nasty things
Young boy is wondering
Is this the joy life brings?
Sister gets pregnant
One blames the other
Whiskey fix, does the trick
The young boy loses his mother
The working day is done
Father watching the TV
Young boy shows dad what he has done
Father doesn't want to see
Young boy makes a mistake
Dad calls young boy a name
Young boy crying in the corner
Filled with guilt and shame
Young boy seeking somebody
For his life he wants to share
Always seeking and never finding
Cause no one really cares
Mom moves away
Young boy so sad
Family broken
Parents glad
Their lives go on
But his does stay
Young boy, old life
With no time to play
Young boy now a teenager
Turns to drugs and booze
The pain he faced, he turns away
His past he wants to lose
Young boy then gets married
To a beautiful wife
Wants so bad to forget his past
And start a brand new life
Young boy yells at new wife
New wife yells at me
My young boy in the corner
The old cycle he does see
Young boy now starts seeking
To make my life brand new
For the benefit of my young boys
My pain they won't go through
New wife says to young boy
You're never going to change
She packs her bags and then she leaves
Another family now estranged
Young boy really hurting
Hoping pain won't last
For now he has a starring role
In the memories of his past
Young boy sitting wondering
Is the pain what it is worth
Broken people, doing broken things
To make a broken earth
Young boy now is fighting
Fighting for his life
Trying to make the old, brand new again
For his young boys and his wife
Young boy finds Our savior
That sits upon His throne
The abundant life he offers
Shows Young Boy he's not alone
The cycle it continues
But young boy wants to try
To fight for what his parents didn't
Then the cycle he'll defy
So young boy makes a decision
He also makes his creed
He hopes to fix his family
All to God he'll lead
So young boy gives it one last chance
With the hope that Jesus brings
Young boy knows it's not over
Til the fat lady sings.......
To be continued
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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The Grenadain Woman
Yes me woman, from my womb life was borne
Yes me woman, the young ones prune by my hands
Yes me woman, with the coves that sways with the redeem of the heart beat, tup-tup, tup-tup, tup-tup, tup-tup
Yes me woman, with beauty unimaginable, soft to the touch
yes me woman, with the voice of a heavenly being, soft, gentle, comforting, encouraging
Yes me woman, determine to succeed with the strength from above
Yes me woman, the days have gone, long gone for her to depend on the strength of another man
Yes me woman, her time has come for the world to see her for who she really is
Yes me woman, creative, innovative, confident, intelligent, loving, kindhearted
Yes me woman, mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, lover
Yes me woman, The Grenadian woman.
poem by Curliann Mark
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About beautiful life
As a boy I had dreamt about beautiful life
Standing by beautiful figure like a glass doll as wife
I had no idea about what wife may stand for future
But definitely it was apparently a dream for sure
Some of the stages represent pure innocence
Some of the acts may speak sheer value of nonsense
Yet that is defined as one of the finest stage
Likely to stay for a while and disappear with the age
In childhood my smile might have been liked by many
I was loved by all members including granny
Mother used to call me diamond of the eye
When I used to demand with full cry
I saw some charm in mother's smile
I wondered about the female character and its style
How elegantly they moved despite all hardships!
Was she the lone sailor sailing through rough sea on ship?
So when I see any woman smiling with free style
I clearly see some reflection and get lost meanwhile
I may sink in dream and visualize some figure in mind
A lovely and beautiful smiling face in memory to find
Was it going to be substitute for caring mother in her life span?
Or was it just routine to come up with age as natural plan
I was rushing toward youth and little mustache had appeared
Everybody knew about gradual change and doubts were cleared
I was now looked with some hope for their future
Nice hierarchy to be followed and continued for sure
I was given enough of liberty to choose the partner
That moment is now going to be reality in days or after
I was woken up by a sweet voice
Beautiful melody with pin dropp peace
She extended hand with lots of promises
Any man would love to sink with such miss
I look back and see all those trailers
Where I was put on horse as riders
I was taken in procession with much fun fare
A journey to be taken but leading no where
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Right To Love!
she's in love
with another woman...
they've been in love
for years.... life companions,
they complete each other.....
they have the right to love!
a hard working young man,
he loves another young man.
he makes him feel alive!
working together for a dream,
they find home in each other...
they have the right to love!
the young white student,
works a job while studying
for his degree...
he loves a dark skinned girl,
the most beautiful girl in the world.
they can talk, they can touch....
they have the right to love!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Getting Old
When you’re young you think you know it all
Then you get old and life begins to unfold.
In their youth they don’t think ahead
The future is something they do not dread.
They feel that everything in life they can control
They’re young and strong and very bold.
Aaaah! Those beautiful days bring back memories
Of how simple life used to be.
Youth had respect for the elderly
And their fellow man.
Now the elderly they try to scam.
When they are older they will see
They want respect and to live with dignity.
they are young and they don’t seem to understand
That with age you may need a helping hand.
Everything in life comes in stages
It’s like a book when you turn the pages
It gets deeper and keeps you enthralled
Until the time that you reach the end
And you’ve lost all your family and friends.
The First stage is when you are a child
And someone is taking care of you for that while.
The Second stage is when you become a teen
And you feel like a king or queen.
You feel that you can not get old
This is what you believe at this stage in your life
Because you’re not looking at the struggles and strife.
The Third stage is the adolescent years
And you feel you’re in control and lose your fears.
The final stage is when you become old and gray
And your youthful years have slipped away.
You look back and ask yourself!
where did All those years go?
Why did I waste so much time?
And the most important thing is
That I am so glad I made you mine
For with you by my side I had a life divine.
So to the youth who have not gotten to this stage
Don’t get angry, and get rid of your rage.
There is no way to turn back the time
For time just moves straight ahead
You’re getting to the point that you now dread.
WELCOME TO OLD AGE! HA-HA
poem by Louis Rams
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I Sit Back And Think
I sit back and think
What do young ones really know?
How to be a mother
A friend who really knows
Then you meet a young person
With ideals and their dreams
And suddenly your face
With an adult not a kid
You know not their past
Of teething and games
That’s a life you have with your own
You look past the youthful
Way that they are
And let them be humans
And live life to the full
We use to be young
At one stage of our lives
What makes us different?
Is were older and wiser
So we like to think
So I say with a smile
To young adults of this world
I bow down low and say
Hello my friend
We may be much older
And wiser we think
But at times you surprise us
With love and wisdom
That is beyond all your years
And yes I bow and acknowledge you all
Simply because you’re our future
Leaders of tomorrow
Good luck to you all
poem by Kaila George
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A Mother Kisses.....
the world will be wonderful in you
with every day’s stay; you have open my
silent mood, after a life time of waiting in
your womb dear mother....
my flesh have born again, by just a
touch of your tender and smooth skin, and
i feel something that rejuvenate my last
lips i offer; to secure as you stay my past,
oh! stay my beloved beginning of my flesh
lovely mother......
open my young heart, for i will give you all
my love, to any distances surprise your joy
i remain, my beautiful mother.....
i play round, from role of tide, and as far
i’ll stay i always will turn too, give me the
chance for a moment to be with you, lasting i
pray that made me to stay in the womb, for
another time with you again and someday
i belong to thee, beloved mother.....
your kisses have say that my life is willing to
come home my darling mother.......
poem by Antonio Liao
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Oh Mother, Mother
she holds her so close
holding onto an image
but with an unintended force
she sends a signal to run
oh mother, mother
so blinded to the truth
caught up in old love and strife
doesn’t understand the young spirit she is hindering
hasn’t got a clue that simple words can kill a young girls dream
The girls heartache was a long time hidden
trying to resist the hurt caving inside
oh mother, mother
how she loves her
how they love each other
so much she does for a daughter
but as much as the girl tried to keep silent
being quiet during times of sinking words
the light in her heart needed to scream
to let it be known that her dreams were everything
it is tough to be a dreamer in the realms of reality
oh mother, mother
had she known
never would she ever speak words so carelessly
recklessly spitting on silent hopes and desires
dimming the spirit that once shone so bright
strong daughter she fights for it still
grabbing onto every edge of imagination
it’s the only way she can see, can breathe
oh mother, mother
don’t cry,
she’s just a simple girl with a broken smile
but brave too in her own little way
so be brave too, hold up that pretty face
cause mother, mother
you gave life to a dreamer
poem by Leah Ayliffe
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Celebrate Youth
Celebrate Youth
by H-Blockx
Album: No Excuses
I can see the older man
Looking at the younger man
I can see the younger man
Looking at the boy
Over there the older woman
Looking at the younger woman
I can see the younger woman
Looking at the girl
'Cause every man sees
In the younger man the hope
Every woman sees
In the younger girl the dream
Everybody lives
The pride and passion of the young
From the womb to the tomb
We will remember what it means
Refrain:
So celebrate youth - celebrate
Those who have it - young ones
Celebrate youth - celebrate
Give them sight
The future of the world's in the -celebrate
Hands of children - young ones
So celebrate youth - celebrate
Teach them right
Looking in a child's face
There's no pride and no disgrace
There's no struggle there's no fight
I can see the older man
And sometimes in the older man
I still see the young boy
Burning in his eye
And locked up here inside our spirit
Is the child that we are, hear it
Some of us will always fear it
And some will heed the cry
'Cause every man sees
In the younger man the hope
Every woman sees
In the younger girl the dream
Everybody lives
The pride and passion of the young
From the womb to the tomb
We will remember what it means
Refrain:
So celebrate youth - celebrate
Those who have it - young ones
Celebrate youth - celebrate
Give them sight
The future of the world's in the -celebrate
Hands of children - young ones
So celebrate youth - celebrate
Teach them right
Looking in a child's face
There's no pride and no disgrace
There's no struggle, there's no fight
Fight like a youth brigade
Tear down your baricades
I know fear's a blade
Time's up, another decade
Fight to be free indeed
Wrap up the things you need
Imaturity
Celebrates the youth in me
Looking in a child's eye
There's no hate and there's no lie
There's no black and there's no white
Refrain:
So celebrate youth - celebrate
Those who have it - young ones
Celebrate youth - celebrate
Give them sight
The future of the world's in the -celebrate
Hands of children - young ones
So celebrate youth - celebrate
Teach them right
Looking in a child's eye
There's no hate and there's no lie
There's no black and there's no white
song performed by by H-BlockX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Summer Girls
When the sun rise
Dont let the time flies,
dont try to ignore, dont be bore
It's time to get up our sleepy heart
make this season yours,
in your life this should be part.
Young girl with a demure smile
Go out and let your smile shine.
With your sleepy and yet twinkled eyes,
be bright like the sun, see how it's fine.
Young girl with the brightest smile,
bright like the summer sun
You're the child of a summer fun,
go ahead curly-heared girl,
be a friend to those who shy,
it's time to be free under the summer sky.
You are the summer girls,
you found out from the start.
The summer lovers
who fell in love without fear.
Who chase the wind and fly
soar above the clouds,
laugh loud
scream and shout.
Be the summer voice
you are the summer girls,
you can make a choice.
Sing as the birds flies,
they heard the rythm
you have the hymm,
see how the they dance
beneathe that blue sky.
On your cheeks the wind will kiss
listen to your heartbeat
taste the sweat.
Dont worry about the bothering sound
when those boys and girls are around
be the thirteenth
with those fourteenth...
explore, have fun.
The summer will end soon,
and so the summer friends.
One by one they will gone,
and you will see what's remain.
Keep the memories
remember like you were always there-
The girl with a brigthest smile,
the girl with a demure smile,
you are the summer girls
that will always be remembered.
summer 1995-98
Yellowbell Alamanda & Wooden Heart
poem by Yellowbell Alamanda
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The Young Woman From Paris In France
The one with brown eyes and brown hair her Hometown is Paris in France
She has such a sweet singing voice and to music she loves to dance
She is in her twenty fourth year and happy in her single life
For some very lucky young man she will make a beautiful wife.
Her accent is easy to love like the lilt to a beautiful song
Of her voice one never could tire I'd listen to her all day long
To this Town she's like a breath of fresh air not many French people live here
Except for the rare tourist who stop for a break from travel I meet one perhaps once a year.
She has such an old World charm and she has such a beautiful face
And she doesn't find it hard for to smile a woman of charm and grace
'Twould be nice if here she did settle but in our Town I know she won't stay
The young woman from Paris in France from home she is so far away.
She says she will go home next year in beautiful May of the Spring
In the green parks of Paris in France she will hear the birds whistle and sing
And on the verandah of her old home with family and friends out of the glare of the sunshine
She will sing along in the sing song as she enjoys a glass of good French made wine.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Cold is The Heart
Cold is the heart of the man who lets no one into his life.
Cold is the heart of the woman who has lost her love.
Cold is the heart of the girl who is better than everyone around her.
Cold is the heart of the man who fights only for himself.
Cold is the heart of the Teenager who needs and wants no one in his life.
Cold is the heart of the cocky young man.
Cold is the heart of the Criminal who is not forgiven for what he has done.
Cold is the heart of the Widow who is left alone in this world.
Cold is the heart of the woman angry at love.
Cold is the heart of the angry young man.
Cold is the heart of the one who does not laugh, and will not smile.
Cold is the heart of the woman who feels no love, and feels no pain.
Cold is the heart of the Businessman who claws his way to the top.
Cold is the heart of the child who feels left out while the others play.
Cold is the heart of the man who denies his emotions freedom.
Coldness in the heart is an absence of love.
It is the feeling of Loneliness,
The presence of Anger,
The lack of Respect,
And the loss of emotion.
It is found in the joyless,
In the emotionless,
And in the inhospitable.
It is a trait of the passionless,
Of the unconcerned,
Of the unsympathetic,
And in those who deny the truth.
But through love any heart can be warmed.
poem by Trever Barlow
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Everlasting love
'Twas over 45 years ago that we became aware
of each other at school and sweet love did flare.
Unhindered by youth our love in infancy began
and had started according to God's great plan.
Then to Stratford by coach we went on our way
to see Romeo and Juliet the Shakespearean play.
Such a great love story penned so many years ago
and tragic relationship which ended in such woe.
Can such love as theirs exist in this world today?
Then in our hearts something happened that day
unknown to us the seed of lasting love was laid
and began in us as Romeo and Juliet was played.
When we returned home from that wonderful day
we met again in the clay pit in loves sweet way.
We walked and talked together as young lovers do
enjoying gazing at stars and looking for planets too.
I played the leading role in the annual school play
as a gallant knight I kept all the ruffians at bay.
And then all victorious I sweet Jennifer embraced
'Oh dear', you looked so red and all embarrassed.
To church I went and soon found Christ as my Lord
and into my heart entered the great love of God.
But tragedy struck as it did in Romeo and Juliet
'She does not love me', I thought with deep regret
You were too young to understand love so strong
I was too serious and my approach was all wrong.
To the background of your heart I had to withdraw
to wait patiently for the flame to be lit once more.
And this seed of love God had sown into my heart
lay dormant waiting another opportunity to start.
Whilst on an Outward Bound Course on Dartmoor
by letter, love was fanned into a flame once more.
The love I had could not be deterred in any way
I even climbed a ladder to your bedroom one Sunday.
My lips met yours early one wonderful morn
and by the garden gate we kissed well before the dawn.
Like Romeo and Juliet had died for their love
we too laid down life to sin our love to prove.
Dead in Christ but now alive in God we stand
love grew and we were married as God planned.
He created our marriage with heavenly blessing
as 'Finlandia' He made the church bells ring.
Our love grew and with three children was blessed
love was tested and like true love withstood the test.
It blossomed as we weathered the storms of life
I love you my dear, You're such a wonderful wife.
The love we have comes from Christ Jesus our Lord
a lasting love that is founded upon God's word.
That young girl who smote my heart that day
still has my love and will for many years I pray.
What God began in us at Stratford so long ago
has blossomed into the love that we now know.
Our love has grown stronger through the years
and withstood all the tests of time and tears.
No tragedy will be able to destroy this great love
nothing will separate us from the love of God above.
By God's good grace we will take it into eternity
a love much stronger than Shakespeare's tragedy.
Yes love much stronger than theirs really does exist
such love we have for each other is heavenly bliss.
Little did we know that more than forty years later
that seed of love would grow and blossom even greater
into the wonderful love that will not let each other go.
For you are my own sweet Juliet and I your Romeo
The Tale Of The Trucker's Life
The young bride sits alone in her house,
waiting for her farm hand husband to return to her lonely bosom.
Enters the husband, tired, and cranky.
He goes to the stereo, hooks up his headphones,
and falls asleep listening to country, and western music.
The bride long since gone to bed alone.
The young mother, and her toddler son
in front of the TV watching movies while the
husband/father works third shift at Wal-Mart 25 miles away.
The mother takes her son to his baseball games,
explains why daddy can't come,
because he decided to be a truck driver.
She is mother, father, and sole teacher to there young son.
She wipes away his tears when he is hurt,
Comforts him when he is sick,
and makes excuses for the absent father
who never has acted like he loved their child.
Who wipes away the tears that the
mother/wife sheds every time she sees
how much their son misses his daddy.
Their little boy puts his arm around his
mother's shoulders and with a hug,
he says, 'mom it will be all right.'
Does the trucker miss his family?
Does he feel the same pain, and sorrow?
He must not care, for he stays gone sometimes four,
sometimes six weeks in a row,
only coming home long enough to make love.
Never does he interact with his son, not really.
The wife, and son now lay in the cold, hard ground,
never to rise again. Now it is too late
for the old trucker to tell them how he really felt.
He sits alone in an old rocking chair,
staring at old, faded photos of his wife,
and son, but he is not in any of the pictures.
He stands in front of the pearly gates of Heaven,
he sees his wife, and son just on the other side,
But they don't recognize him.
So goes the tale of the trucker's life.
poem by Velmar Pewee Hale Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young Man, Older Woman
Hey young girl
Stop teasing me
This is not
How our love should be
Hey my girl
Stop holding me
Free me my baby
From these bonds I can not see
You are my women
I am your man
Yet when we struggle
How alone I must stand
Now listen young girl
You must understand
The natural respect
You must give to every man
Young Girl
Take your time
Young girl
Your such a young girl
Hey young girl
Stop teasing me
This is not
How our world should be
Trust me my baby
Stop holding me
We can be happy
If you just believe in me
You are my woman
I am your man
Why must you wonder
If the world will understand
Now listen young girl
You can’t control me
Free me my baby
From these bonds I can not see
Young girl
Your such a young girl
Young girl
Take your time young girl
poem by Mustafa Marconi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O! My little girl is gone!
To all the mothers who have lost their daughter/s.
O! My little girl is gone
O! My little girl, my heart is torn
From the day that she was born
Who knew so early she would be gone?
As the truth lays hidden beneath the sun
My heart constantly aches
While it lies fully awake
Daddy’s little girl full of hope,
Denied the chance to develop
Mummy’s little girl full of scope,
How can I, this distraught mum cope?
She walked the path of immense beauty
With this intense world in her little pocket
O! She was a little girl, a young pretty cutie
O! Her sweet memories, how can we forget?
And I can cry no more
Like I used to do before
Day and night I suffer in anguish
O! My little girl, my little young Miss
Day and night, you I can no longer kiss
I hope that in heaven her heart is at peace
Gone is my bundle of sweetness
And days of walking her to school
Gone is mother’s display of fondness
And days of fun with her in a pool
O! My little girl is gone
O! My little girl, my heart is torn
I think of all the things we could have done!
As a proud parental mother and a child
While life’s tide rolled in-shore mild or wild
Gone are the smiles and rosy cheeks
And her nice little mischievous tricks
As I sit there, ponder and begin to weep
Gone is the time she starts to read books!
And makes efforts to improve upon her looks
And I will miss all her little cuddles
And playing mud and splashing puddles
And I will miss her sweet voice
And all her loud playful noise
I ponder on what could have been
This no longer remains to be seen
O! My little girl, who knows the truth?
I shall think of you everyday by the hour
As my own priceless beautiful lost flower
And the favourite saying like mother, like daughter
Has forever lost its fertility to mature any further!
O! My little girl is gone!
O! My little girl is gone!
From the day that she was born
Who knew so early she would be gone?
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woman's Dream
The woman I want to be
A woman of valor and integrity
One that fears the creator of heaven, earth
And everything there in.
A woman with a warm, loving heart
So welcoming, reliable and confident
A woman that the world will confidently
Look up to for any help.
The woman I want to be
A wife that is adorable and supportive
Render my heart to him that wins it
Give my time to love, adore, cherish
Encourage him to soar to greater heights
To achieves his dreams with my support
A forgiving, cooperative wife is all I want to be
Together with the conqueror of all times
To be the flag bearers of what a family is.
The woman I want to be
Mother of adorable children
To love cherish and fend for
They will be the apple of my eye
Children I call my own to teach
The ways of the world
Children that are the twinkling stars
Of my life that will never die out
An exemplary mother is all I want to be.
The woman I want to be
One that’s not perfect but works on her flaws
To get perfection out of them
Not hindered by her failure and mistakes
But corrects, learns from them
To make her life better and worth living.
Unstoppable and will traverse all challenges
To emerge conqueror.
There is so much I want to be
So much I want to live for
This is every woman’s dream
And every woman’s strife.
poem by Kente Lucy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Where Are You?
If you want to live on a sweet love then,
Be my lover on this train;
Who will be my lover?
Who will be my woman?
Who will be my wife?
Who will give me children?
Oh, to you Ladies out there! !
Come and take me home;
My sweet woman to be,
I am missing you.
Come and show me the true colours of love,
Come and be my wife and let's have children.
Who am i to be blind; pretending not to see them?
Come and let's stay together on this love;
Yes, come and let's make babies.
Who will be my family?
Who will be my girl?
Who will be my woman?
Who will be my wife?
Who will i give my heart to?
Who will i share my soul with?
I need a woman to give me children.
Have you heard of Shakespeare?
Have you heard of St. Louis?
Then, hold back your tears to the one you love.
Who is after my love?
Who will be my lover?
I want someone special like you.
Hold back the tears of love to my heart,
Where are you girls?
Where are you ladies?
Where is the lover of my heart?
I'm still searching for the real love.
Lonely as i am, i can't let it go when i do find her.
I need someone who will let my heart beat,
I need someone to lean on;
So, lean on me if you are the one for me.
Where are you my sweet woman?
Tell me if you are my sweet lady;
I need someone who will feel my heart-beat.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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