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Akara K. Poems
There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse And they all lived together in a little crooked house
Ode to Blue - A Sonnet
A color too deep for comprehension It is the hue of the bright morning sky The calmness it brings relieves all tension Such a happy shade, the tint of a sigh
What is poetry? Poetry is many things But there are far more things that poetry is not Poetry is not a style of writing
I strongly believe With all my heart That everything happens For a reason.
Funny how Adults always seem to think That they're so much smarter Than kids
Better Weather Here Than Somewhere Else
It's a Northern winter wonderland Happy couples walking hand in hand Department stores aglow with lights Christmas trees always in sight
Strip me of my laugh, strip me of my smile, Strip me of everything I wanted to be; Strip me of my false pretense, and Then all you've got left is me.
I Guess I'm Greedy?
All I wanted was your heart. I tried so hard to be what you wanted I did everything for you, was everything just for you But still you pushed me away
Fire, burning fire, Brilliant flames ablaze; Crimson, yellow, orange fire A wild and radiant haze.
I tried so hard to hold you back, but to no avail You slipped from my grasp so easily Sometimes I can't help but blame myself Maybe if I was only able to hold on a little tighter
I didn’t know what to do. When you just showed up And said you were sorry I was shocked
When I die I hope that they'll bury my ashes And plant a tree there A strong tree that will grow tall
How do I say this? I guess I'll start out with 'thank you.' It's always seemed that I was never really able to explain How much you mean to me
You know that feeling Like you're not really there? Sometimes I just want to sit and observe And not be a part of life at all
Comments about Akara K.
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile
He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile
He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse
And they all lived together in a little crooked house
He met a crooked woman and he found a crooked preach
They had a crooked marriage on a crooked little beach
They had some crooked children and they lived a crooked life
The crooked man, the cat, the mouse, the children and the wife
They were happy for a number of crookedly long years
Lived a life of crooked happiness, no worries and no fears