Poems

This is the day, that the Lord has made,
We should rejoice and be glad in it,
Oh happy day, looking at my diary,
The calendar, with all I hope to achieve.
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Yesterday was great so you say,
And longing for a better day,
And why not do it today,
If you longing for a brighter future.
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We met when we were still young,
Our paths crossed and to new beginnings,
Blindly towards where the vehicle would go,
Carry us together to a better place for me,
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He was a peculiar man, that found lies an unnecessary burden on the back of his memory
His small house had no space for hatred and he had thrown it out long ago
Unable to see colors or shapes he treated all the same, God included
Simple needs he harvested in his garden, creeping weed's desire for more never sprouted in his mind
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On behalf of those who may have forgotten the power of gentle words…
We now find ourselves behind glowing screens, where our eyes rarely connect
only reflections of judgment flicker through glass, moving faster than understanding, yet slower than empathy.
A face like a rare moon drifting through daylight is lifted amidst storms of laughter, as if beauty were a flaw, as if being different were a typo in the language of creation.
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A new day dawns over a youthful horizon, and the earth beams like a child rediscovering its own voice. The Land of the Rising River stirs awake newly named in the tongues of many nations standing tall like a flame that has learned to withstand the wind. Flags flutter and dance like birds returning home after a long absence, each hue carrying a heartbeat that once lingered in the shadows. Even the sky seems to draw nearer, as if it has finally grasped the essence of joy. The land takes its time to reveal its beauty, holding a quiet dignity in the gentle rivers that continue to share ancient tales, in the expansive shores that catch the light as if it were something delicate and sacred. Every grain of earth remembers its struggles, yet still chooses softly, stubbornly to embrace hope. Here, freedom isn't just a distant concept; it's a face washed in relief, a breath that arrives at last without fear, a smile that spans generations like a bridge finally completed. And beneath the celebration, a gentle truth remains: happiness must learn to bear responsibility, abundance must learn to nurture, and no land is truly whole until every hand can rest from reaching. Drums resonate across the open spaces like memories transforming into song, woven with kinship, survival, and the warmth of belonging. Gratitude flows like a breeze through tall grass carried by those who have rediscovered how to live after hardship. And so the land stands not complete, not flawless but vibrantly alive, smiling through its journey of becoming.
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Why does this land let go of its brightest minds those who think clearly, who live with honesty and purpose only to watch them leave like travelers carrying dreams that never had a chance? Yet it clings to emptiness, raises loud voices that say so little, and gives importance to those who only speak when nudged by others. How does a place forget its finest, while paying so much attention to what truly adds no value?
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There is a kind of madness
in the heart of a man,
not the kind that destroys,
but the kind that feels too deeply to escape itself.
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If tomorrow comes without me,
Tell my friends…

O messenger of Gagomah,
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Ok ok ok
Hair is done
Outfit looks good
Relaxed, casual, fun
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In your bid to find closure
Did you really get closer -
When you opened up your heart
And upset the apple cart..
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Love is wonderful
More than all the lovely words
Nothing less than true
Love is more than beautiful
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