** Stop Killing Your Own **
Twinkling stars reflection
On the blue ocean
Have become the nuts and bolts
Of vessels plying their way to destination
Bright colorful lightning
Unwittingly exhaling
The breath of infinite horizon
Giving a sensible life to boredom
Orchestra of thunders astonishingly unleash
The music of Mozart and Beethoven
God
In his malodorous brain what slugs and mire,
Lanthorned in his oblique eyes, guttering burned!
His body lodged a rat where men nursed souls.
The world flashed grape-green eyes of a foiled cat
To him. On fragments of an old shrunk power,
On shy and maimed, on women wrung awry,
He lay, a bullying hulk, to crush them more.
But when one, fearless, turned and clawed like bronze,
Cringing was easy to blunt these stern paws,
And he would weigh the heavier on those after.
True Confession
1
Today, recovering from influenza,
I begin, having nothing worse to do,
This autobiography that ends a
Half of my life I'm glad I'm through.
O Love, what a bloody hullaballoo
I look back at, shaken and sober,
When that intemperate life I view
From this temperate October.
To nineteen hundred and forty-seven
Saltbush Bill's Second Flight
The news came down on the Castlereagh, and went to the world at large,
That twenty thousand travelling sheep, with Saltbush Bill in charge,
Were drifting down from a dried-out run to ravage the Castlereagh;
And the squatters swore when they heard the news, and wished they were well away:
For the name and the fame of Saltbush Bill were over the country-side
For the wonderful way that he fed his sheep, and the dodges and tricks he tried.
He would lose his way on a Main Stock Route, and stray to the squatters' grass;
The Bullying Game
I took a snapshot of my little tot
then gently lifted her out of her cot
she was like a feather in my arms,
and oh how I fell for those baby charms.
Those small delicate fingers
and screwed up tiny toes,
the aroma of a newborn baby,
her beautiful wrinkled nose.
Sports 6 -
neeraj Chopra - An Inspiring Story!
Just a decade ago - in 2011,
Neeraj Chopra was an obese boy,
An awkward thirteen year old, from Panipat.
He was ashamed of his weight,
Which was over eighty kilograms,
As other boys teased and made fun of him.
Young Neeraj was unable to bear the bullying
By his friends and classmates any further.
His Uncle Bhim Chopra noticing his nephew's discomfort
Took him to Panipat Sports Stadium gymnasium.
Thurso’s Landing
I
The coast-road was being straightened and repaired again,
A group of men labored at the steep curve
Where it falls from the north to Mill Creek. They scattered and hid
Behind cut banks, except one blond young man
Who stooped over the rock and strolled away smiling
As if he shared a secret joke with the dynamite;
It waited until he had passed back of a boulder,
Then split its rock cage; a yellowish torrent
Of fragments rose up the air and the echoes bumped
Astraea: The Balance Of Illusions
WHAT secret charm, long whispering in mine ear,
Allures, attracts, compels, and chains me here,
Where murmuring echoes call me to resign
Their sacred haunts to sweeter lips than mine;
Where silent pathways pierce the solemn shade,
In whose still depths my feet have never strayed;
Here, in the home where grateful children meet
And I, half alien, take the stranger's seat,
Doubting, yet hoping that the gift I bear
May keep its bloom in this unwonted air?
Of A Compromise Pact
The sun got up late; came out, reluctant temperate;
The moon had asked him to remain subdued sedate,
In accordance to the terms of the compromise pact,
Arrived at, over the overnight bullying bargain talks…
Not impressed was the reporting vastness of the sky
Couldn’t gather much light on the issues soaring high;
The news: The talks were a success; the terms a loss:
Started to roll out downpour the press; gossiping clouds…
Mostly Slavonic
I.—
Peter Michaelov
It was Peter the Barbarian put an apron in his bag
And rolled up the honoured bundle that Australians call a swag;
And he tramped from Darkest Russia, that it might be dark no more,
Dreaming of a port, and shipping, as no monarch dreamed before.
Of a home, and education, and of children staunch and true,
Like my father in the fifties—and his name was Peter, too.
(He could build a ship—or fiddle, out of wood, or bark, or hide—.
Carefree Days
The seeds of love was already sown and slowly began to grow
We had to learn from each other is how we stayed in the know
Brothers and sisters were we, a special gift to one another
Growing up together as children with a loving father and mother
Hide and seek and playing tags was two of our favorite games
No time left for bullying or calling each other out their names
Rolling around an old worn tire with just a tiny piece of stick
Racing and trying to get ahead you had better be more than quick
Harry Wilmans
I was just turned twenty-one,
And Henry Phipps, the Sunday-school superintendent,
Made a speech in Bindle's Opera House.
"The honor of the flag must be upheld," he said,
"Whether it be assailed by a barbarous tribe of Tagalogs
Or the greatest power in Europe."
And we cheered and cheered the speech and the flag he waved
As he spoke.
And I went to the war in spite of my father,
And followed the flag till I saw it raised
Manga
(dedicated to Manga lovers)
Romance
Friendship
Tears
Laughter
Adventure
Horror
Bullying
Frightened and bewildered you feel so all alone
To fend for yourself all your friends are gone
Ran for cover but you left behind a trail
You tried to defend yourself but to no avail
Be encouraged, stay focused and be strong
Dear God please help me and give me the courage
To share my problems and not to be discouraged
I can not fight these battles all by myself
Need to tell somebody not place it on a shelf
Dedicated To All My Friends And Foes On Ph
What is the point,
To make such a big hue and cry
Check inside your heart
and see what you fried.
You shall reap
what you have sowed.
Nobody will do wrong
Harm People
Harm people
Respect international sea boundary
Tale all precaution necessary
No intimidation or bullying
Else humanity shall be crying
Boundary tension may grow
And this shall allow
Other nations to intervene
Howl For The Eighties
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed
By money and video games
As AIDS killed millions around the word
My life was haunted by the bullying of rich kids
Who had computers and driver's licences
Driving Daddy's Lexus and crashing it every Saturday night
By underaged drinking and unprotected sex
As I am sitting quietly doing the homework
Then, waking up early Sunday morning to attend
A church I questioned
Peace Is No Easy
Peace is no easy
Monday, March 4,2019
11: 43 AM
Peace is no easy term
it can turn
the whole world
into chaos and miseries untold
no nation has dared
The Victim Of Bullying
He has blossomed into be nobody's fool
The boy who was taunted and bullied at school
Quite a brilliant scientist and few of his kind
And his very equal would be hard to find.
The victim of bullying is well known and admired
And he works like one who is truly inspired
On environmental science he has a degree
And few indeed are as successful as he.
Poetry Wrote Me - 1
Poetry wrote me
When I was a kid
Bullying a bid
For most insecure