Very Joyful
Revealed to me!
In Norderstedt;
With your muse!
But, it was very joyful to see it.
Very, every, query;
Revealed to me!
With your muse,
But, it was very joyful to see it.
Ferry, jerry, merry, berry, sherry, terry!
In Norderstedt;
With your muse,
But, it was very joyful to see it.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Come Join The Abolitionists
Come join the Abolitionists,
Ye young men bold and strong.
And with a warm and cheerful zeal,
Come help the cause along;
O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
O that will be joyful, when Slavery is no more,
When Slavery is no more.
'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
When Slavery is no more.
Come join the Abolitionists,
Ye men of riper years,
And save your wives and children dear,
From grief and bitter tears;
O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
O that will be joyful, when Slavery is no more,
When Slavery is no more,
'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
When Slavery is no more.
Come join the Abolitionists,
Ye dames and maidens fair,
And breathe around us in our path
Affection's hallowed air;
O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
O that will be joyful, when woman cheers us on,
When woman cheers us on, to conquests not yet won.
'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
When woman cheers us on.
Come join the Abolitionists,
Ye sons and daughters all
Of this our own America-
Come at the friendly call;
O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
O that will be joyful, when all shall proudly say,
This, this is Freedom's day-Oppression flee away!
'T is then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
When freedom wins the day.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Reeling
Fractures,
Reeling,
Distress,
Confusion;
Hanged on a tree is the muse of your love,
And i need to climb up high to get to you.
Men, women, the youth and the old;
Visit this vine and visit this home,
For a joyful sound is now heard in the land of my muse!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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What Has Been Revealed
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even with eyes tightly closed...
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even with an upturned nose...
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even with pretensions,
Left to charade.
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even with the cool-aid made...
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even with debates...
Created for more time to waste.
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even those who protest,
Unaccepting with wishes to reject!
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even the message,
And the messenger to detest!
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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August 2000 To February 2009
August 2000 to February 2009,
That which was rotten is now eatable!
For the muse of love came back to me;
That which was broken is now mended,
That which was stolen is now found,
That which was sorrowful is now joyful,
That which was sick is now well,
That which was leaping is now walking,
That which was crying is now laughing!
For the muse of love came back to me and,
I have now found my new home.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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My Muse Is Free
I swim in the glimmers on the rivers muse
There I muse of love and love muse of me
In muse is ecstasy
my muse is free.
I lay by the brook, the muse's brook
And thirsty, I get up, to get a little drink
When I look, I see, I think
A beautiful Muse and my heart is shook
I dwell in a soul, a soulful muse
And to its harmony my soul withdrew
To the trumpets of muse the song of blue
My soul a muse, I always knew
I smell the odor, of muse's incense
In its torpor my body sleeps in my soul
And I smoke the smoke of muse intense
I laugh at myself amusingly droll
With my muse's nymphs we love in Hellas
Naked and free in the republic
Of beauty and art of love's Bellas
We love to we're entirely love sick.
My muse is free from the Devil's temptation
My Muse is free from God's judgment
My Muse is my only wordly nation
My Muse is a dream, I live, I lament
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Oh Love Filled Days
Oh happy day
Oh happy day
When Mary finds
She is entwined
With Grace Devine
Oh happy day
Oh happy day
Oh joyful day
Oh joyful day
When Jesus lay
On a pile of hay
Oh how the angels play
On Christmas day
Oh joyful day
Oh joyful day
Oh love filled day
Oh love filled day
When Jesus lay
In a lonely tomb
From the afternoon
Till he rose on Easter day
Oh love filled day
Oh love filled day
Oh happy day
Oh joyful day
Oh love filled day
Entered the earth
In the most humble way
Taught us how to pray
Took our sins away
Oh happy day
Oh joyful day
Oh love filled days
When he came to stay
poem by Brian Kilpatrick
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Lie To Me
Kent, rent, sent, bent, tent, went, cent, dent, gent, lent, pent, vent;
And like a joyful sound!
But you are lying to me and i can see it on your face.
Pat, Nat, cat, bat, tat, sat, fat, gat, hat, lat, mat, rat, vat;
And with the acknowledgements of my muse!
But lie to me and let me be on guard,
And like the war songs in the land of your muse.
Furry, burrito, bury, curry, burly, burr, hurry, jury;
To put on a mantel for the battle!
But you are lying to me and i can see it on your face.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Through Your E-Mail
The two poems came to you thorugh your E-Mail,
And like a shore-hugging path;
But the death toll came along with the muse of this war! !
And like a monstrous Hurricane along the way.
Voodoo,
Vodka,
Voracious!
But the two peoms came to you through your E-Mail;
And like a joyful woman in the land of your muse,
But you left the money behind! ! !
And like the death toll after the monstrous Hurricane.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Afterward
An extended period and afterward,
On that joyful morning to see your sweet face once again;
And to produce pleasure with my muse is always with your love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Emell
This muse of love is like how to write a song,
This muse of care is like how to write a poem,
This muse of peace is like how to write a stroy,
This muse of joy is like how to write a book,
But, i am now delivered with the muse of your love!
Because, i now live in the land of your muse and,
You are called Emell.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Adu
Joyful songs with tambourines and lutes,
You are singing and dancing to meet my muse;
And i am your lover called Adu from Accra,
But, try to understand my stands as well.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Sana Boja II
I want to kill your pain with my love,
And to heal your mind with a great kiss!
For the emerald of the rice fields are your crowns,
And like the muse of your love in the land of peace.
Underwater coral gardens,
Of the ambience well attuned and well relaxed;
And like a feel of a joyful ride.
Young pineapples and exotic bananas!
We are just teenagers on this love;
but you are 'Sana Boja' from Gambia,
And, i will always remember you on this muse.
'First cut is the deepest'! !
And i still remember the days of your short vist to me in Ghana;
However, i will always heal you with my love,
For the lamp of the body is the eye.
Where your treasure is, there also is your heart!
But follow the narrow path to lead you always to my home;
And like the muse of love in the land of peace,
For i will always remember you my sweet 'Sana Boja'.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Instructor
The instructor,
In front of me and in front of you!
But this is the testimony of your muse,
For the rains came in and washed your items away.
Read by all for all and,
Seen by all! !
And like a voice in the wilderness!
But revealed in the bosom is your sweet muse,
And like the testimony of your love in the land of joy!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Forty Years Old
The tidings of your melancholy loss,
And received at the other hand to crown your glory;
But ten times more of needful things like the muse of your love,
For i love you with my sincere heart.
Life is like the natural tune coming out from my radio,
And you are mine and i am yours;
For i will repay all that you've lost in this town,
So be confident with your thoughts towards me.
Bound to me only by the links of this love is your muse,
Because you are my daily joy as compared to a common man's life;
But the hiding places beyond the seas are with cheerfulness!
And i will bear your memory with me always.
It was like the love letters full of wondrous news,
And of the forty years old love songs to boast your muse;
But both of us will live to see a better day on this love.
Stong and hale,
Weak and pale,
And like a fairly tale;
But lay now the corner stone with a joyful heart!
And like a leisure hour out of sight,
But we will be pure as the naked heavens one day.
There is comfort in the strength of love,
And of the tidings of your melancholy loss;
But ten time more of needful things like the muse of your love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Here Today, Gone Tomorrow
All the days we think of as today
are really just tomorrow.
For I've found that things don't change,
there always will be sorrow.
Sorrow that will come to some
that came yesterday
is just transferred to others
as it comes their way.
When we think of joyful,
the joyful is today.
So enjoy the joyful
for tomorrow it goes away.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A good life is a series of joyful meetings and joyful moments.
quote by Francis Bacon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Horn
You are the little horn on your lover's side,
Born with words from the muse of your heart;
And like earth, wind and fire! !
Of a free-kick after many attempts,
Faithful as a thunder's fist to strike a blow;
But, i am as joyful as the rainbow colours.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Annabel
It will surely rise up!
Because, i am Annabel in the land of your muse;
And like the works of art and the beauty of your love,
For, the colour of the sea is like the muse of your town.
I know your mind and,
You are unable to hide this muse from me! !
For, it will always rise up to satisfy me;
And like the joy of success!
But, try to understand my sweet muse around you always.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Horse and Cart Ferry
It was old Jerry Brown,
Who’d an office in town,
And he used to get jocular, very;
And he’d go to the Shore
When they’d serve him no more,
And, of course, by the passenger ferry,
A sight on the passenger ferry.
Now this is a song of the ferry,
And a lay of the juice of the berry;
’Tis the ballad of Brown,
Who’d a business in town,
And commenced to go down
Very slow,
Don’t you know?
By coming home just a bit merry.
By the Drunks’ Boat—that’s right—
On a Saturday night
He would often be past being merry;
With his back teeth afloat,
On the twelve o’clock boat,
And a spectacle there on the ferry
(A picture to all on the ferry).
In the mornings, ashamed—
’Twas the last drink he blamed,
Though the first was the matter with Jerry,
With his nerve out of joint,
He’d sneak down to Blue’s Point,
And he’d cross by the horse-and-cart ferry,
Like a thief—by the horse-and-cart ferry.
But long before night
He’d most likely be tight,
And a subject and theme for George Perry;
And he’d cross to the Shore,
Somewhat worse than before,
And a nuisance to all on the ferry;
Singing-drunk on the passenger ferry.
And so it went on
Till his reason seemed gone,
And the Law, so it seemed, got a derry
On Brown. He went down,
And they sent him to town
One day, by “the trap,” on the ferry—
The Government trap on the ferry.
He was sober and sane
When he came back again,
And the past he’d determined to bury—
Or, I mean, live it down—
And he crossed from the town
Like a man, on the passenger ferry.
(There were sceptical souls on that ferry.)
They say ’twas the jaw
Of his mother-in-law
Drove him back to the juice of the berry;
But he soon got afloat
On the passenger boat
Or adrift on the horse-and-cart ferry
(Wrongly called the ve-hic-ular ferry).
The drink had him fast,
And he drank till at last
He dried up—a withered old cherry;
And they thought him no loss
When they sent him across
In a box, on the cart-and-horse ferry—
In a low, covered trap on the ferry.
Which I rise to explain—
If the moral ain’t plain,
And if you’re a cove that gets merry—
Always stick, when “afloat,”
To the passenger boat;
Or else to the cart-and-horse ferry,
Or you’ll make matters worse, like old Jerry.
But this is the song of the ferry,
And the lay of the juice of the berry;
And you will not deny—
If you read by-and-bye—
That the casual eye
Of the Tight
At first sight
Misses much in the song of the ferry.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Kwadwo
Nude,
Should it succeed?
Reed,
Should it grow?
Unsightly! !
But, to dominate the world with nudism,
Because, my people want it so.
Naturism,
Acts,
Paintings,
Arts,
But with cloaks of primitiveness;
And like a dirty shoe in the land of your muse,
However, i am Kwadwo from the land of hospitality.
Revealed,
Counterpart,
In secret,
Routinely,
But on the other hand with the muse of your love;
However, things were compounded than ever!
All in the name of nudism.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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