Look at me. Look me in the eye. I know who killed me, I know why My life was taken before I had lived. Before I had a chance to show what I could give.
By Raymond G. Taylorabout a year ago in Poets
Take my hand, O wind, and show me the path to rest Take my hand, O stranger, to the fragrant flower forest Because I am impossible here and I have come to succeed
By Kisama Riyo about a year ago in Poets
Alone in this silence and stillness The heart is sad in its darkness alone And sadness enveloped my feelings And awakened all the sorrows in my soul
After a long wait In the march of pride The colonizer became defeated And the heroes embraced the warmth of the sun
And between the fragments of the dragon's flame I found myself in the prisoner's space What do I have to do with this dragon?
Let the poet's pens write whatever they want May the nations that taught them benefit? Let the notebooks be filled with an abundance of feelings
I remembered the past years It never crossed my mind To meet you complaining about my condition The whispers of my loved ones
Am I tired of my life, bored with myself? Dead from my sadness, broken from my fear In my dream I sleep like a straight rock?
What is the secret in you, O night? Like a star, you depart and return? What is the magic in you, O night? You rise at dusk and take refuge
What's wrong with it? It has a thousand meanings. Most of our sayings about it are endless. Our actions rarely have a goal.
It is an old carriage with good horses Everything one could wish for is available in it A kitchen, a table and a bed tied to take you far
We presented ourselves as angels to the world of passion We rode the back of a bygone era We carried our secrets as a provision for the future
