En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Afterglow

Oh, for the fire that used to glow
In those my days of old!
I never thought a man could grow
So callous and so cold.
Ah, for the heart that used to ache
For those in sorrow’s ways;
I often wish my heart could break
As it did in those dead days.

Along my track of storm and stress,
And it is plain to trace,
I look back from the loneliness
And the depth of my disgrace.
’Twas fate and only fate I know,
But all mistakes are plain,
’Tis sadder than the afterglow,
More dreary than the rain.

But still there lies a patch of sun
That ne’er will come again,
Those golden days when I was one
Of Nature’s gentlemen.
And if there is a memory
Could break me down at last,
It sure would be the thought of this,
The sunshine in the past.

But ’spite of sunshine on the track—
And well the sun might shine—
My heart grows hard when I look back
From these dark days of mine.
A nobler child was never born
In all the Southern land—
The slave of selfish ignorance
That could not understand.

Oh, I had lived for many years
In a world of my ideal,
With no false laughter, no false tears,
And it seemed very real.
But I was wakened from my dreams,
And learnt with hardening eyes
A world of selfish treachery,
Of paltry shame and lies.

I left the truest friends on earth
Who did not need my aid,
And worked for those who were not worth
The sacrifice I made.
And while I blindly strove to raise
The coward and the clown,
They sneaked behind by shady ways
And tore my palace down.

But let those faithless friends of mine
Who’d think of me with scorn,
Remember that for many years
A heavy load I’ve borne.
And my true friends when all is done,
And my sad soul is gone,
Will think of battles I have won
When I lead rivals on.

And though from spite and worldly things
I well should be exempt,
For little men and paltry men
I scarce can feel contempt.
They followed me with flattery
In the days when I was brave—
But for those who have been true to me
I’ll strike back from the grave!

poem by Henry Lawson
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The Battling Days

So, sit you down in a straight-backed chair, with your pipe and your wife content,
And cross your knees with your wisest air, and preach of the ‘days mis-spent;’
Grown fat and moral apace, old man! you prate of the change ‘since then’—
In spite of all, I’d as lief be back in those hard old days again.
They were hard old days; they were battling days; they were cruel at times—but then,
In spite of all, I would rather be back in those hard old days again.
The land was barren to sow wild oats in the days when we sowed our own—
(’Twas little we thought or our friends believed that ours would ever be sown)

But the wild oats wave on their stormy path, and they speak of the hearts of men—
I would sow a crop if I had my time in those hard old days again.
We travel first, or we go saloon—on the planned-out trips we go,
With those who are neither rich nor poor, and we find that the life is slow;

It’s ‘a pleasant trip’ where they cried, ‘Good luck!’ There was fun in the steerage then—
In spite of all, I would fain be back in those vagabond days again.
On Saturday night we’ve a pound to spare—a pound for a trip down town—
We took more joy in those hard old days for a hardly spared half-crown;

We took more pride in the pants we patched than the suits we have had since then—
In spite of all, I would rather be back in those comical days again.
’Twas We and the World—and the rest go hang—as the Outside tracks we trod;
Each thought of himself as a man and mate, and not as a martyred god;

The world goes wrong when your heart is strong—and this is the way with men—
The world goes right when your liver is white, and you preach of the change ‘since then.’
They were hard old days; they were battling days; they were cruel times—but then,
In spite of all, we shall live to-night in those hard old days again.

poem by Henry Lawson
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My School Days

Now-a-days where is that cheer,
unless i call up friends to have a beer,
Just like mist gone we are apart in many ways,
But where are my School days.

Now-a-days where is that enthusiasm,
for i bump into people with only sarcasm,
we sail world over on a ship,
unsuccessful even to strike a good friendship,
We have indeed drifted in many ways,
But where are my School days.

Now-a-days where is that laughter,
I hear just laughs to flatter,
true friends were those who where just there,
to say 'Hey we really care'
Scattered are we in many ways,
But where are my School days.

We are born with faces,
and now with a 'book',
we are now connected in many ways,
Where i come to cherish my School days.

poem by Deepak Calyampoondi
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Old Days Are Forever

Take me back to the old days
When we would run with the rain
Falling like showers on our face
And in laughter, we knew no pain.

Take me back to the old days
When music was soothing and mellow
Joys were simpler in so many ways
When Home was the place we could go.

Take me back to the old days
Perhaps in memory we may linger
Old friends and family find a trace
In our hearts, old days are forever.

poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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In Memoriam Matris

IN my hot youth I rashly penned
A Sonnet of the After-life.
It was the time of stress and strife
Through which the ardent soul must wend.
It was the Spring-time of my days,
When Doubt, like an inspired sage,
With creeds did eager warfare wage,
And looked with scorn on ancient ways.
But gazing back across the years
That separate my youth from me,
These words and thoughts now seem to be
All dim, as through a mist of tears.
For then I saw, with eager eyes,
A coming world where joy would reign,
And evil pass away, and pain,
When man was rid of priestly ties.
While now I turn a backward gaze
On visions fled, and vanished hours,
On dead dry leaves and perished flow'rs,
That make the story of my days.
And midway on that dreary track
I see a grave-stone, standing white —
Far off. I see it in the night;
It says, “Thy mother comes not back.”
We brought her from the Austral land,
To this the land that gave her birth;
We laid her cold, in English earth,
My sire and I — and now we stand,
Like aliens, on a dreary shore,
Though once he fondly called it “Home.”
Now, old and mateless, he would roam
Back to that southern land once more.
For there her spirit seems to be,
There lie her babes beneath the sod;
And there, but for the hand of God,
Her grandchild would have climbed her knee.
* * * * *
These verses of the heedless Past,
They echo not my saddened thought,
— I held that after death came nought:
The earth was not then on her cast.
Denial now is dumb within,
Without I can but grope my way,
And trust that in some brighter day
Man's soul shall live — absolved of sin.

poem by Arthur Patchett Martin
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The Men We Might Have Been

When God's wrath-cloud is o'er me,
Affrighting heart and mind;
When days seem dark before me,
And days seem black behind;
Those friends who think they know me --
Who deem their insight keen --
They ne'er forget to show me
The man I might have been.

He's rich and independent,
Or rising fast to fame;
His bright star is ascendant,
The country knows his name;
His houses and his gardens
Are splendid to be seen;
His fault the wise world pardons --
The man I might have been.

His fame and fortune haunt me;
His virtues wave me back;
His name and prestige daunt me
When I would take the track;
But you, my friend true-hearted --
God keep our friendship green! --
You know how I was parted
From all I might have been.

But what avails the ache of
Remorse or weak regret?
We'll battle for the sake of
The men we might be yet!
We'll strive to keep in sight of
The brave, the true, and clean,
And triumph yet in spite of
The men we might have been.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Back To The Old Ways

Back to the old ways
It's been days
Since pen has tasted paper
Days since soul and heart thought together
Mind on fire
Situation dire
So much falling
I hear her voice calling
Just some light
Coming from both sides... how might
I choose where to go?
I honestly don't know
Yet I do
I know which ways, but by nature and my will
I wish to go toward the false light which could kill
Me, though it's wrong I still wish to pursue
The girl who
I claim to love... yes it's her yet what do I do?
To not go after her I must against my nature
To go after her I must subvert my faith.. all for her
It's back to my old ways
It's been days
Crying
Trying to decide
I know if I choose wrong the punishment then a chide
I think I choose the pure light
Did I choose right?

poem by David Knox
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Reminiscenes

Oh those days gone past my era of joy,
“Come back – come back’’ I’m yelling
now. Still today when the memories
of those days flashback, a moment of
smile returns with the images of a few
happy friends holding hands and
Rejoicing-rejoicing in the small school
of Jnaneshwar. The river of love was
flowing in full swing, here-there,
everywhere was joy and joy and amidst
that joy lived some joyful friends happily.
we will never meet, my dear friends, all
of us once again and even in this
tearful life of today the slight memories
of those days bring back the smile on my
face. Oh those days gone past my era of
Joy- “please come back”.
Violent tides battle in the ocean of tears
each day that I remember the days gone
past in to the pages of memory, and the
Harbor though strong and resistant soon
falls apart as the teardrops wet my cheeks.
The stream of life haunted through the coot
and hern and joy bubbled at each fall until
it made a sudden sally and listed a thousand
miles between us which changed all. Late at
nights I’ve often awoken to cry for the laughter
that reverberates in my dreams, and soaking my
tears, I’ve often turned back expecting your eyes
which never allowed me feel solitary and I’ve passed
each day hoping that this day is the last day of
separation but the time is the arrow which once
shot, never really returns back.
Oh those days gone past my era of joy, don’t
Leave me broken, torn and lovelorn-
“Please come back.”

poem by Saket Suman
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Questions

Will you be there when my world falls apart?
Will you be there to catch the crumbling of my broken heart?
Does the world keep turning when I’m gone?
Can god hear me screaming when I’m alone?

Can you die from a broken heart?
I’ll soon find out, because I’m falling apart
What happened to my days of sunshine?
The days when I thought everything was fine.

Does anyone care, about little old me
I think death is the only thing to set me free
I feel helpless and hopeless in a world I don’t understand
Why won’t anyone reach out and give me a hand

All the bad things that happen do I deserve?
God knows all the bad things, nothing’s on reserve
Does god hold wrong things I do against me?
If so than its straight to hell for me

Will the world keep turning when I die?
Will it keep on turning if I tell one more lie?
Erase the hate, the hurt and the pain
Bring back the sunshine and take away the rain

Does anyone care what happens to me?
When I die, it’s just something that will be
I feel like a burden to my family and friends
I wonder what will happen when this life ends

Is there only one way to love?
Can love be something else than just love?
It keeps me awake throughout the night,
Because it seems like I just can’t get it right

Its better to leap than to fall
Destiny is a thing that’s there for us all
I will take control, and determine mine
We will see what happens, it just takes time!

poem by Kayla Neil
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I Wish

Looking back on when i
Was a little nappy headed boy
Then my only worry
Was for christmas what would be my toy
Even though we sometimes
Would not get a thing
We were happy with the
Joy the day would bring
Sneaking out the back door
To hang out with those hoodlum friends of mine
Greeted at the back door
With boy thought I told you not to go outside,
Tryin your best to bring the
Water to your eyes
Thinkin it might stop her
From woopin your behind
I wish those days could come back once more
Why did those days ev-er have to go
I wish those days could come back once more
Why did those days ev-er have to go
Cause I love them so
Brother says hes tellin
bout you playin doctor with that girl
Just dont tell Ill give you
Anything you want in this whole wide world
Mama gives you money for sunday school
You trade yours for candy after church is through
Smokin cigarettes and writing something nasty on the wall (you nasty boy)
Teacher sends you to the principals office down the wall
You grow up and learn that kinda thing aint right
But while you were doinit-it sure felt outta sight
I wish those days could come back once more
Why did those days ev-er have to go
I wish those days could come back once more
Why did those days ev-er have to go

song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only In Your Heart

Mary, have you seen better days?
And will you find different ways?
And does he really mean that much to your heart?
Carry, all of the weight you can, find another man
And lead him directly there to the source
Youve got to chart his course
cause it is only in your heart
This thing that makes you want to
Start it all again
(la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la)
Wake up from an elusive dream
Youve got to change the scene
Its getting so hard to see to the end
Break down, all of the walls you can
You need a helping hand
Im sure theres someone there just for you
Hes trying to make it, too
cause it is only in your heart
This thing that makes you want to
Start it all again
(la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la)
Only in your heart
This thing that makes you want to
Start it all again
(la, la, la, la)
You cant disregard your friends
But life gets so hard when you reach the end
Mary, have you seen better days?
(mary, have you seen better days? )
Mary, have you seen better days?
(mary, have you seen better days? )
Mary, have you seen better days?
(mary, have you seen better days? )
Mary, have you seen better days?
(mary, have you seen better days? )

song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prayer for friend

As the cruel hands approached,
pushed hard to take life and touched,
No more could do the would be wife,
the life hung in balance to the edge of knife,

I would not be accessible for some,
some more days or weeks to come,
Pray for my beloved who is under care, ,
yet he to enter but don’t know when and where?

What more I ask form HIM?
Spare him for rest of my life,
I ask not but make simple pray
life is to be lived by any other way,

Moved her words so deep in mind,
Blood ran high but could not find.
What else more can be done,
prayer to God and prayers alone,

Add my days and years
Prayed earnestly in his ears,
I have lived the best,
he is still under test,

Miracle happen as prayer do play,
after all, we have to perish in clay,
but not before the destined time,
Pardon the sin and committed crime,

’More good news’ as I learnt in few days,
recovering fast in many ways,
happy days back and life will be fast,
Prayer worked first and not at the last,

Smiling days are back again,
Heat waves gone after heavy rain,
dark clouds disappear and sky look plain,
Happiness and gloom are part of the chain

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Ten Days Of Rain

(r. stewart, k. savigar, t. brock)
The wind cries on the boardwalk
Oh god, its cold tonight
Somewhere in the city
Someones holding her tight
Hes telling her shes beautiful
Touching her long blond hair
Hes found out all the secrets
We swore wed never share
Oh, it drives me crazy
To think of her with him
Come back, baby
Come back home again
Chorus:
Ten days of rain
Ten days of rain
My heart is filled with pain
Will she ever come back again?
Ten days of rain
She said Im tired of talking
Trying to get it through to you
You never tell me you love me
Thats all I want you to do
I thought we had a future
Something to hold on to
We even talked of children
Something I never do
She loved me like no other
She held me like a child
Come back baby, come back home again
Chorus
The thought of her still haunts me
Her voice is everywhere
Ten days of rain
Ten days of rain
I can hear the freight train whistle
I can hear the church bells toll
But telephone line, when its off the hook
Thats the loneliest sound of em all
In the letter that she wrote me
Before she went away
She said darling, always remember
Love aint a hard word to say
Ten days of rain
Ten days of rain, such pain
Will she ever come back again
I dont know, I dont know
Come back baby, Im so lonely baby
Ten days of rain, ten days of rain
Is it raining all, raining all
Raining all over this world

song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Jim

I gaze upon my son once more,
With eyes and heart that tire,
As solemnly he stands before
The screen drawn round the fire;
With hands behind clasped hand in hand,
Now loosely and now fast—
Just as his fathers used to stand
For generations past.
A fair and slight and childish form,
And big brown thoughtful eyes—
God help him! for a life of storm
And stress before him lies:
A wanderer and a gipsy wild,
I’ve learnt the world and know,
For I was such another child—
Ah, many years ago!

But in those dreamy eyes of him
There is no hint of doubt—
I wish that you could tell me, Jim,
The things you dream about.
Dream on, my son, that all is true
And things not what they seem—
’Twill be a bitter day for you
When wakened from your dream.

You are a child of field and flood,
But with the gipsy strains
A strong Norwegian sailor’s blood
Is running through your veins.
Be true, and slander never stings,
Be straight, and all may frown—
You’ll have the strength to grapple things
That dragged your father down.

These lines I write with bitter tears
And failing heart and hand,
But you will read in after years,
And you will understand:
You’ll hear the slander of the crowd,
They’ll whisper tales of shame,
But days will come when you’ll be proud
To bear your father’s name.

But oh! beware of bitterness
When you are wronged, my lad—
I wish I had the faith in men
And women that I had!
’Tis better far (for I have felt
The sadness in my song)
To trust all men and still be wronged
Than to trust none and wrong.

Be generous and still do good
And banish while you live
The spectre of ingratitude
That haunts the ones who give.
But if the crisis comes at length
That your future might be marred,
Strike hard, my son, with all your strength!
For your own self’s sake, strike hard!

poem by Henry Lawson
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In The Days When The World Was Wide

The world is narrow and ways are short, and our lives are dull and slow,
For little is new where the crowds resort, and less where the wanderers go;
Greater, or smaller, the same old things we see by the dull road-side --
And tired of all is the spirit that sings
of the days when the world was wide.

When the North was hale in the march of Time,
and the South and the West were new,
And the gorgeous East was a pantomime, as it seemed in our boyhood's view;
When Spain was first on the waves of change,
and proud in the ranks of pride,
And all was wonderful, new and strange in the days when the world was wide.

Then a man could fight if his heart were bold,
and win if his faith were true --
Were it love, or honour, or power, or gold, or all that our hearts pursue;
Could live to the world for the family name, or die for the family pride,
Could fly from sorrow, and wrong, and shame
in the days when the world was wide.

They sailed away in the ships that sailed ere science controlled the main,
When the strong, brave heart of a man prevailed
as 'twill never prevail again;
They knew not whither, nor much they cared --
let Fate or the winds decide --
The worst of the Great Unknown they dared
in the days when the world was wide.

They raised new stars on the silent sea that filled their hearts with awe;
They came to many a strange countree and marvellous sights they saw.
The villagers gaped at the tales they told,
and old eyes glistened with pride --
When barbarous cities were paved with gold
in the days when the world was wide.

'Twas honest metal and honest wood, in the days of the Outward Bound,
When men were gallant and ships were good -- roaming the wide world round.
The gods could envy a leader then when `Follow me, lads!' he cried --
They faced each other and fought like men
in the days when the world was wide.

They tried to live as a freeman should -- they were happier men than we,
In the glorious days of wine and blood, when Liberty crossed the sea;
'Twas a comrade true or a foeman then, and a trusty sword well tried --
They faced each other and fought like men
in the days when the world was wide.

The good ship bound for the Southern seas when the beacon was Ballarat,
With a `Ship ahoy!' on the freshening breeze,
`Where bound?' and `What ship's that?' --
The emigrant train to New Mexico -- the rush to the Lachlan Side --
Ah! faint is the echo of Westward Ho!
from the days when the world was wide.

South, East, and West in advance of Time -- and, ay! in advance of Thought
Those brave men rose to a height sublime -- and is it for this they fought?
And is it for this damned life we praise the god-like spirit that died
At Eureka Stockade in the Roaring Days
with the days when the world was wide?

We fight like women, and feel as much; the thoughts of our hearts we guard;
Where scarcely the scorn of a god could touch,
the sneer of a sneak hits hard;
The treacherous tongue and cowardly pen, the weapons of curs, decide --
They faced each other and fought like men
in the days when the world was wide.

Think of it all -- of the life that is! Study your friends and foes!
Study the past! And answer this: `Are these times better than those?'
The life-long quarrel, the paltry spite, the sting of your poisoned pride!
No matter who fell it were better to fight
as they did when the world was wide.

Boast as you will of your mateship now -- crippled and mean and sly --
The lines of suspicion on friendship's brow
were traced since the days gone by.
There was room in the long, free lines of the van
to fight for it side by side --
There was beating-room for the heart of a man
in the days when the world was wide.

. . . . .

With its dull, brown days of a-shilling-an-hour
the dreary year drags round:
Is this the result of Old England's power?
-- the bourne of the Outward Bound?
Is this the sequel of Westward Ho! -- of the days of Whate'er Betide?
The heart of the rebel makes answer `No!
We'll fight till the world grows wide!'

The world shall yet be a wider world -- for the tokens are manifest;
East and North shall the wrongs be hurled that followed us South and West.
The march of Freedom is North by the Dawn! Follow, whate'er betide!
Sons of the Exiles, march! March on! March till the world grows wide!

poem by Henry Lawson
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Old Friends Of Mine

The songs they were singing from the golden days of our spring. When laughter rang out from those old friend of mine.

Where have they gone in the passing of time, and where are they now those old friends of mine.

The years have clouded the memories of them. The grey hairs are showing, how long has it been?

Oh where did they go? The friends of my youth. The flames of a young life and the passions we knew.

The days are shorter. Life still goes on. Our children are playing like we used to do.

Will they remember the friends of their youth when they get our age in their September song?

Oh where have they now those old friends of mine?

31 Dec 1995

poem by David Harris
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The Vagabond

White handkerchiefs wave from the short black pier
As we glide to the grand old sea --
But the song of my heart is for none to hear
If one of them waves for me.
A roving, roaming life is mine,
Ever by field or flood --
For not far back in my father's line
Was a dash of the Gipsy blood.

Flax and tussock and fern,
Gum and mulga and sand,
Reef and palm -- but my fancies turn
Ever away from land;
Strange wild cities in ancient state,
Range and river and tree,
Snow and ice. But my star of fate
Is ever across the sea.

A god-like ride on a thundering sea,
When all but the stars are blind --
A desperate race from Eternity
With a gale-and-a-half behind.
A jovial spree in the cabin at night,
A song on the rolling deck,
A lark ashore with the ships in sight,
Till -- a wreck goes down with a wreck.

A smoke and a yarn on the deck by day,
When life is a waking dream,
And care and trouble so far away
That out of your life they seem.
A roving spirit in sympathy,
Who has travelled the whole world o'er --
My heart forgets, in a week at sea,
The trouble of years on shore.

A rolling stone! -- 'tis a saw for slaves --
Philosophy false as old --
Wear out or break 'neath the feet of knaves,
Or rot in your bed of mould!
But I'D rather trust to the darkest skies
And the wildest seas that roar,
Or die, where the stars of Nations rise,
In the stormy clouds of war.

Cleave to your country, home, and friends,
Die in a sordid strife --
You can count your friends on your finger ends
In the critical hours of life.
Sacrifice all for the family's sake,
Bow to their selfish rule!
Slave till your big soft heart they break --
The heart of the family fool.

Domestic quarrels, and family spite,
And your Native Land may be
Controlled by custom, but, come what might,
The rest of the world for me.
I'd sail with money, or sail without! --
If your love be forced from home,
And you dare enough, and your heart be stout,
The world is your own to roam.

I've never a love that can sting my pride,
Nor a friend to prove untrue;
For I leave my love ere the turning tide,
And my friends are all too new.
The curse of the Powers on a peace like ours,
With its greed and its treachery --
A stranger's hand, and a stranger land,
And the rest of the world for me!

But why be bitter? The world is cold
To one with a frozen heart;
New friends are often so like the old,
They seem of the past a part --
As a better part of the past appears,
When enemies, parted long,
Are come together in kinder years,
With their better nature strong.

I had a friend, ere my first ship sailed,
A friend that I never deserved --
For the selfish strain in my blood prevailed
As soon as my turn was served.
And the memory haunts my heart with shame --
Or, rather, the pride that's there;
In different guises, but soul the same,
I meet him everywhere.

I had a chum. When the times were tight
We starved in Australian scrubs;
We froze together in parks at night,
And laughed together in pubs.
And I often hear a laugh like his
From a sense of humour keen,
And catch a glimpse in a passing phiz
Of his broad, good-humoured grin.

And I had a love -- 'twas a love to prize --
But I never went back again . . .
I have seen the light of her kind brown eyes
In many a face since then.

. . . . .

The sailors say 'twill be rough to-night,
As they fasten the hatches down,
The south is black, and the bar is white,
And the drifting smoke is brown.
The gold has gone from the western haze,
The sea-birds circle and swarm --
But we shall have plenty of sunny days,
And little enough of storm.

The hill is hiding the short black pier,
As the last white signal's seen;
The points run in, and the houses veer,
And the great bluff stands between.
So darkness swallows each far white speck
On many a wharf and quay.
The night comes down on a restless deck, --
Grim cliffs -- and -- The Open Sea!

poem by Henry Lawson
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Tears dropp

Tears dropped from my eyes
As the days passed by
It was painful yet so dear
I had to undergo it and bear

I remembered exactly when father was no more
It had jolted me and tore apart
The mother was still there to console
I heaved a sigh of relief with strong pole

As mother proved to be strong lady
There was felt no vacuum for the daddy
He had left no fortune but placed us in strong hand
Mother took the control and treated us like friends

We owed the body and soul to parents
It was true and very much apparent
We had learnt lessons of self sufficiency
Mother worked hard for us not to feel any deficiency

I remember and count critical moments
Mother stood firm and gave no vents
It was her heroic effort to keep us under fold
She taught us to be brave and bold

Today when I look back and open the memory
It all moves like movie with all impressions to carry
I move with all the scenes as if it has happened yesterday
It has ended with the nightmare in a day

We were hand to mouth for many days
We could find no respectful way
It required great struggle to survive
We too were determined for powerful drive

It did not break us from within
It was situation like no loss no wins
We had learnt a lot to stand fast
The situation was not to remain same till last

I have vivid memory and painful past
Even though it made us tough to stand fast
It had made us to forget and leave behind
There was to be left no trace to find

Though mother is not with me today
I have not forgotten those days
She was by all means an alert guard
To take us in strength and look forward

I have raised great empire with all means
She is there in all the corners and seen
It was her resolute stand that took us out of storm

She was as dedicated as before and fully informed
I shed tears not for being left alone
But her action to take us out from cyclone
Had she lost her courage and presence of mind
We would have been no where to find

Though God is great to take us to shore
We pray all those dear ones and adore
We can do nothing for their brave front
Only last glorious moments make us to confront

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Winter Days Why Do You Came!

Snowy winter days once again came!

Ah Winter days

how did you came?

Haven't you met through your road crying summer days?

Haven't you met through your ways crying Autumn days?

Ah snowy winter days

Haven't you met your friends

Through your road

while you were coming here

Ah sweet summer days

They left us in vain

They Saw our pain

Even the sun above cried for children's ache

First time through my life time

I knew even the sun above has a heart.

While unfortunately human beings didn't have!

Ah chilly winter days how could you come here?

Haven't you met through your road mourning Autumn days.

They were broken when they left

As i know you are friends.

If you ever met them there

They would tell you about our aches.

How pain we've passed through

They saw and they felt

They went home crying all alone

Ah snowy cold winter days how could you come here?

While our world is bared it's clothes

And humanIty is bared of pity as well as the mercy

Poverty huged the cold and has wrapped our world

Ah, how much pain can we bear yet!

Ah, poor souls are in pain till the vein!

poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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The Days to Remember

Do you remember the days?
The days of Cinderella wanting to go the ball
The days of the seven dwarfs
The days when you believed in it

I remember those days
The days you held your mother’s hand
The days when you wished on a star
The days you believed that wish would come true

Do you remember the days?
The days of jump rope
The days of secret hand shakes
The days you believed it was just so easy

I remember those days
The days when you would hide and they would seek
The days of spending all day playing ball
The days you thought it would never get hard

We all remember those days

poem by Ambra Milton
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The Old Mile-Tree

OLD coach-road West by Nor’-ward—
Old mile-tree by the track:
A dead branch pointing forward,
And a dead branch pointing back.
And still in clear-cut romans
On his hard heart he tells
The miles that were to fortune,
The miles from Bowenfels.
Old chief of Western timber!
A famous gum you’ve been.
Old mile-tree, I remember
When all your boughs were green.

There came three boyish lovers
When golden days begun;
There rode three boyish rovers
Towards the setting sun.
And Fortune smiled her fairest
And Fate to these was kind—
The truest, best and rarest,
The girls they’d left behind.
By the camp-fire’s dying ember
They dreamed of love and gold;
Old mile-tree, I remember
When all our hearts were bold.

And when the wrecks of those days
Were sadly drifting back,
There came a lonely swagman
Along the dusty track;
And save for limbs that trembled—
For weak and ill was he—
Old mile-tree, he resembled
The youngest of the three.
Beneath you, dark and lonely,
A wronged and broken man
He crouched, and sobbed as only
The strong heart broken can.
The darkness wrapped the timber,
The stars seemed dark o’erhead—
Old mile-tree, I remember
When all green leaves seemed dead.

poem by Henry Lawson
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