With sweet poems For My Mom, Still A Stranger, The Little Girl, Accident and many others, This teen sensation stoops to conquer the poetry and the world! My words may sound pompous but truth her poetry picture perfect like Sachin's Cover Drive. She got the class, she got the style But she mass, ma ma Mass! Rated A1 + a big Treat! Read hear poetry,100% entertainment guarantee with lifetime warranty! Happy birth to her mom in the heaven! Says one Harindhar Reddy paisano and fellow poet from her country, India.
I like this poem ' Phases Of Moon', because it reminds me of my previous & future life. Hence, you can be the famous poet across the globe like me. I have been invited to India to recite my poems wouldn't you like to attend with me? Your correspondence will be highly appreciated. Have a nice day! Mr. Koena France Mokoena Country: South Africa
Aditi invited me to comment on her poem 'Thank You' but her poem after poem kept me reading and asking for more. Her innocent talent makes her write from an entirely novel perspective, very refreshing. Best wishes for a budding poetess!
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that he'd "sooner live in hell".
On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.
And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."
Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursed cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet 'tain't being dead -- it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."
...
This is the most important poem, because it is about exposing the personal attributes, hence you should be proud of who you are...