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That Memory

That Memory

I want that memory
The one where I’m jumping
On the trampoline
With my grandkids
Holding their hand
Crossing the street
Teaching them the simple things in life
Like how to meet and greet the world
The people in it
I want that memory
Don’t you?
Of the first time they see a butterfly
Or see a tear dropp fall from my eye
It seems all of a sudden I know
The innocence
The confidence
of youth is strong
They believe for a few years
Adults are all wrong
Now it seems with time
We’ve all written our own song
Now I have that memory
Don’t you?

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The First Time That We Met

The first time that we met
There the love begun
The first glance of your's that made my heart born again
It diverted like a child like a fool
And it was so glad because of finding you
My heart is always there never will apart
Its with you always and having you inside so no one can see it
Its your love that has begun here in my heart and still living here
I thought that oneday can forget your love but how foolish we become when we fall in love
Your love that brought the life to my
Now its taking the life from my heart
Dough we are apart but I have you inside
Deeper so deeper of my heart
So no one can see you
No one can touch you
No one can take you away from me
The first place that we met
Do you remember?
Our hearts are always there whispering our names
How much I am thirsty to those days
They are always figured in my mind
Maybe you were just a sweet dream
But how a pity that we have to wake up from dreams

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Sonnet 32 - The first time that the sun rose on thine oath

XXXII

The first time that the sun rose on thine oath
To love me, I looked forward to the moon
To slacken all those bonds which seemed too soon
And quickly tied to make a lasting troth.
Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe;
And, looking on myself, I seemed not one
For such man's love!—more like an out-of-tune
Worn viol, a good singer would be wroth
To spoil his song with, and which, snatched in haste,
Is laid down at the first ill-sounding note.
I did not wrong myself so, but I placed
A wrong on thee. For perfect strains may float
'Neath master-hands, from instruments defaced,—
And great souls, at one stroke, may do and doat.

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If You Couldn't Get It Right The First Time

Some say redemption is easy.
But when your hands are so bloody.
How can you just wash them clean?
Like it never happen.
Completely innocent you say.
Then where was your vigilance while it was happening?
Ignorance is a excuse without reason.
We should never accept it with a hand shake and a smile.
Bliss is only temporary.
Consequences must be faced.
Pain you must taste, before it can be truly felt.
Some say we only have to live with the hands we are dealt.
But we trade these cards for better ones all the time.
For some it requires hard work.
Others they bully people for them.
And yet even more stoop to thievery and manipulation.
A prize sits upon the highest roof top.
All you have to do is push this other guy off to get it.
Can you do it?
All for something a little easier.
Convenience sits at mans door step.
He will lie for it.
He will fight for it.
He will kill for it.
And finally he will die for it.
Effort requires energy the lazy people of the time don't have.
They envelope their minds false and half truths to only feel a little better.
Build up the broken self esteem so it can be broken again.
A repetition in tiresome lessons.
Some will just never get it.
You don't do something because you have to.
You do it because you want to.
Getting up early in the morning.
Shoving a cup of coffee into your face.
Going to work, to come back to your own home.
Seeing some one stuck in the snow, will you help them?
Or pretend you didn't see them so you don't get delayed.
Time matters to some too much when comes too money to be made.
How about if you see some women being brutally attacked.
Will risk your life to save her?
And what reasons sit behind it?
Are you so fearful you say screw her and just let her die?
Are you so desperate you'll use it as a attempt to get laid.
'Hey now that your alright lets go back to my place.'
Is that your pickup line?
Or you actually a caring person when one is need?
Pleading for just a tid bit of help.
Selfishness is not only described by things you do for yourself.
But as things you do for others that also benefits you.
You have made many trades and left most of your guilt behind.
Even with the world so you think.
All the scores have been settled in one fell swoop.
No going back in for seconds.
If you couldn't get right the first time.
Then your just wasting my time.

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That Was The First Time When I Shouted At You

i was surprised myself
at what i just did
oh my i feel like a real man
shouting at you
the first time in my life
when i think you never understood me
when i decided to shout the words

the words baffle you
about who i am, and what i am really up to
i like the way things are
now you must listen
otherwise, i will keep on shouting
until i will get
my own meaning.

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The First Time You Denied My Touch

The first time you denied my touch...
I knew it was getting closer to over,
For us.
The first time you denied my touch...
Our relationship had ran out of 'fizz'.
What did it?

Did you know I was just expecting sex without love?
Then when I'm done,
I'm gone?

You knew that!
You had to.
I was taking you for granted,
And this you knew!

The first time you denied my touch...
It was me.
Not you.
And I knew it too well!

The first time you denied my touch.
I felt an ache slowly creeping up inside,
Of me.
I tried to breathe soft and slow,
So you wouldn't know it.

The first time you denied my touch.
My tears came to fall.
And that was not easy....
Faking a rest,
After a grueling crawl.

'Thank you.
But no...
I am not preparing for the Olympics.
I'm just laying here to meditate on the ground,
For a moment.'

The first time you denied my touch.
Love was not there to respond.

The first time you denied my touch,
I knew you felt it too inside...
I was gone!
And I knew it then,
I had been gone too long!

Too long for you to deny me,
Of what's mine!

'EXCUSE ME?
Repeat that! '

The first time you denied my touch...
I knew it was getting closer to over,
For us.
The first time you denied my touch...
Our relationship had ran out of 'fizz'.
What did it?

Did you know I was just expecting sex without love?
Then when I'm done,
I'm gone?

'That's not what you said.
But you're getting to the point.
I'm in the bed and going to sleep.
What you do with your needs,
That's up to you.'

We just need time to get our booty better!

'EXCUSE ME?
Repeat that! '

The first time you denied my touch,
I knew you felt it too inside...
I was gone!
And I knew it then,
I had been gone too long!

Too long for you to deny me,
Of what's mine!

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Hit Me Like You Did The First Time

Go, people wanna know
All the pleasures of
Ive got my favorite place
You know just what to say
Hit me like the first time
All of your friends go there
Theyre not like me
I got my favorite place
You know just what to say
Kill me like you did the first time
Come on now (3x)
Hit me like the first time
Mount this heavy snow
Its warm like a winter coat
Thats my favorite place
cause you know just what to say
Kiss me like you did the first time
Come on now (8x)

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From the first moment that I saw you

From the first moment that I saw you,
you are constantly in my thoughts,
while your image lingers with me
as if you stick to my soul like burr-weed,
or like a virus from which I cannot be escape,
are bounded to me spirit to spirit,
leaving a impression in all my body and senses
as if it had been divinely destined to be so.
From the first time that I loved you
I am caught in my humanity
while I know that without you my life is meaningless
and no other woman I even want to be aware of;
without you in my life I am lost
and all of my days are meaningless.

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That Yummy To The Tummy Done

Chasing to escape a common placement,
Is a taste one wishes to keep sweet.
Once the taste of achievement...
Stays to cling on a tongue,
With the licking of the lips done.
And that yummy to the tummy...
Has a difficult time for one to overcome.

When treated the first time,
No one thinks of addiction.
Or a thought that something would stick...
With a desire wished that solicits a wanting more of it!

Chasing to escape a common placement,
Is a taste one wishes to keep sweet.
Once the taste of achievement...
Stays to cling on a tongue,
With the licking of the lips done.
And that yummy to the tummy...
Has a difficult time for one to overcome.

And that yummy to the tummy...
Has a difficult time to overcome.
That yummy to the tummy done...
One never forgets its deliciousness.
Or the first time lips were licked.

That yummy to the tummy done..
Ahhh.
A tummy with a yummy comes,
Ahh ahh...
That yummy to the tummy coming with a yum yum.

That yummy to the tummy done..
Ahhh.
A tummy with a yummy comes,
Ahh ahh...
That yummy to the tummy coming with a yum yum.

That yummy to the tummy done..
Ahhh.
A tummy with a yummy comes,
Ahh ahh...
That yummy to the tummy coming with a yum yum.

That yummy to the tummy done,
Ahhh.

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Impossible To Tell

to Robert Hass and in memory of Elliot Gilbert

Slow dulcimer, gavotte and bow, in autumn,
Bashõ and his friends go out to view the moon;
In summer, gasoline rainbow in the gutter,

The secret courtesy that courses like ichor
Through the old form of the rude, full-scale joke,
Impossible to tell in writing. 'Bashõ'

He named himself, 'Banana Tree': banana
After the plant some grateful students gave him,
Maybe in appreciation of his guidance

Threading a long night through the rules and channels
Of their collaborative linking-poem
Scored in their teacher's heart: live, rigid, fluid

Like passages etched in a microscopic cicuit.
Elliot had in his memory so many jokes
They seemed to breed like microbes in a culture

Inside his brain, one so much making another
It was impossible to tell them all:
In the court-culture of jokes, a top banana.

Imagine a court of one: the queen a young mother,
Unhappy, alone all day with her firstborn child
And her new baby in a squalid apartment

Of too few rooms, a different race from her neighbors.
She tells the child she's going to kill herself.
She broods, she rages. Hoping to distract her,

The child cuts capers, he sings, he does imitations
Of different people in the building, he jokes,
He feels if he keeps her alive until the father

Gets home from work, they'll be okay till morning.
It's laughter versus the bedroom and the pills.
What is he in his efforts but a courtier?

Impossible to tell his whole delusion.
In the first months when I had moved back East
From California and had to leave a message

On Bob's machine, I used to make a habit
Of telling the tape a joke; and part-way through,
I would pretend that I forgot the punchline,

Or make believe that I was interrupted--
As though he'd be so eager to hear the end
He'd have to call me back. The joke was Elliot's,

More often than not. The doctors made the blunder
That killed him some time later that same year.
One day when I got home I found a message

On my machine from Bob. He had a story
About two rabbis, one of them tall, one short,
One day while walking along the street together

They see the corpse of a Chinese man before them,
And Bob said, sorry, he forgot the rest.
Of course he thought that his joke was a dummy,

Impossible to tell--a dead-end challenge.
But here it is, as Elliot told it to me:
The dead man's widow came to the rabbis weeping,

Begging them, if they could, to resurrect him.
Shocked, the tall rabbi said absolutely not.
But the short rabbi told her to bring the body

Into the study house, and ordered the shutters
Closed so the room was night-dark. Then he prayed
Over the body, chanting a secret blessing

Out of Kabala. 'Arise and breathe,' he shouted;
But nothing happened. The body lay still. So then
The little rabbi called for hundreds of candles

And danced around the body, chanting and praying
In Hebrew, then Yiddish, then Aramaic. He prayed
In Turkish and Egyptian and Old Galician

For nearly three hours, leaping about the coffin
In the candlelight so that his tiny black shoes
Seemed not to touch the floor. With one last prayer

Sobbed in the Spanish of before the Inquisition
He stopped, exhausted, and looked in the dead man's face.
Panting, he raised both arms in a mystic gesture

And said, 'Arise and breathe!' And still the body
Lay as before. Impossible to tell
In words how Elliot's eyebrows flailed and snorted

Like shaggy mammoths as--the Chinese widow
Granting permission--the little rabbi sang
The blessing for performing a circumcision

And removed the dead man's foreskin, chanting blessings
In Finnish and Swahili, and bathed the corpse
From head to foot, and with a final prayer

In Babylonian, gasping with exhaustion,
He seized the dead man's head and kissed the lips
And dropped it again and leaping back commanded,

'Arise and breathe!' The corpse lay still as ever.
At this, as when Bashõ's disciples wind
Along the curving spine that links the renga

Across the different voices, each one adding
A transformation according to the rules
Of stasis and repetition, all in order

And yet impossible to tell beforehand,
Elliot changes for the punchline: the wee
Rabbi, still panting, like a startled boxer,

Looks at the dead one, then up at all those watching,
A kind of Mel Brooks gesture: 'Hoo boy!' he says,
'Now that's what I call really dead.' O mortal

Powers and princes of earth, and you immortal
Lords of the underground and afterlife,
Jehovah, Raa, Bol-Morah, Hecate, Pluto,

What has a brilliant, living soul to do with
Your harps and fires and boats, your bric-a-brac
And troughs of smoking blood? Provincial stinkers,

Our languages don't touch you, you're like that mother
Whose small child entertained her to beg her life.
Possibly he grew up to be the tall rabbi,

The one who washed his hands of all those capers
Right at the outset. Or maybe he became
The author of these lines, a one-man renga

The one for whom it seems to be impossible
To tell a story straight. It was a routine
Procedure. When it was finished the physicians

Told Sandra and the kids it had succeeded,
But Elliot wouldn't wake up for maybe an hour,
They should go eat. The two of them loved to bicker

In a way that on his side went back to Yiddish,
On Sandra's to some Sicilian dialect.
He used to scold her endlessly for smoking.

When she got back from dinner with their children
The doctors had to tell them about the mistake.
Oh swirling petals, falling leaves! The movement

Of linking renga coursing from moment to moment
Is meaning, Bob says in his Haiku book.
Oh swirling petals, all living things are contingent,

Falling leaves, and transient, and they suffer.
But the Universal is the goal of jokes,
Especially certain ethnic jokes, which taper

Down through the swirling funnel of tongues and gestures
Toward their preposterous Ithaca. There's one
A journalist told me. He heard it while a hero

Of the South African freedom movement was speaking
To elderly Jews. The speaker's own right arm
Had been blown off by right-wing letter-bombers.

He told his listeners they had to cast their ballots
For the ANC--a group the old Jews feared
As 'in with the Arabs.' But they started weeping

As the old one-armed fighter told them their country
Needed them to vote for what was right, their vote
Could make a country their children could return to

From London and Chicago. The moved old people
Applauded wildly, and the speaker's friend
Whispered to the journalist, 'It's the Belgian Army

Joke come to life.' I wish I could tell it
To Elliot. In the Belgian Army, the feud
Between the Flemings and Walloons grew vicious,

So out of hand the army could barely function.
Finally one commander assembled his men
In one great room, to deal with things directly.

They stood before him at attention. 'All Flemings,'
He ordered, 'to the left wall.' Half the men
Clustered to the left. 'Now all Walloons,' he ordered,

'Move to the right.' An equal number crowded
Against the right wall. Only one man remained
At attention in the middle: 'What are you, soldier?'

Saluting, the man said, 'Sir, I am a Belgian.'
'Why, that's astonishing, Corporal--what's your name?'
Saluting again, 'Rabinowitz,' he answered:

A joke that seems at first to be a story
About the Jews. But as the renga describes
Religious meaning by moving in drifting petals

And brittle leaves that touch and die and suffer
The changing winds that riffle the gutter swirl,
So in the joke, just under the raucous music

Of Fleming, Jew, Walloon, a courtly allegiance
Moves to the dulcimer, gavotte and bow,
Over the banana tree the moon in autumn--

Allegiance to a state impossible to tell.

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A Wreath Of Sonnets To A Sweetheart

I

Tonight for the first time I caught your gaze
where you smelt roses in a garden,
with auburn curly hair hanging down your shoulders,
at morning glories trumpeting in strings over the wall

the window reflected you, caught in bright glass
and from the street I saw how lovely you are
feelings dancing in your sea-green eyes
aware of a unknown secret bond

but in the morning light you did disappear like mist
and when I rose
your were just a thought
you were already gone

like a pretty withered flower;
our friendship came suddenly.


II

Our friendship came suddenly.
like lightning falling from the blue sky
where two people in the great universe
are astounded by each other momentarily,

maybe we knew intrinsically that troubled days were coming,
perhaps had a intuition that moments decay with time
and for the time that was given to us, we were madly in love
like everyone in mankind at times

as if you came into my life unstoppable,
the winter rain of months changed
with a unknown adaptability
and although you are at times far off and distant
you still remain the only one;
like two jewels your eyes are shining.

III

Like two jewels your eyes are shining
pierced by a bright light,
they are oval like olives
with the glittering of rainbows

still they have got the ability
to with a own secret language
draw my thoughts to you
when you bewitch me, full of sunshine laughter and elated

making the world wonderful
as if we are exceptional,
as if clouds are writing enchanting words in the sky,
the sun is rising over days that just get more beautiful
and like two children we find meaning;
by our own free will we are incorporated into each other

IV

By our own free will we are incorporated into each other
in ecstasy, recreation and trouble
of the small loving death
with words that your body writes.

Your slender body
presses tightly against mine
and I can feel your heart beating
without hesitation driven

moments are drawing out long
we are fulfilled in ecstasy,
you drawn me still closer
hitting your nails into me, screaming in pleasure
as if caught in this single moment,
you were twisting from sheer pleasure.

V

You were twisting from sheer pleasure,
but why do your eyes bother me
when you complete me so perfectly,
going deep into my soul leaving an inability?

When this wondrous night passes
you stay incomprehensible to me,
as if something is missing from my comprehension,
that lies between us, something almost untouchable.

Still there is sunshine in every glance that you give
and an intimate certainty with which you love me
as if you trust me with every secret,
as if our feelings will never change

even when destiny foams thundering,
when the cold rain pours down.

VI


When the cold rain pours down
as if there’s no stopping to it,
sieving down in a Cape winter in banks of fog,
with the wind howling around the corners of the house

there’s a monotonousness in the noise,
days became grey as if stripped from meaning,
your smile comes to me day after day to refresh my life,
it’s as if you traverse my life the whole time

and I realise how fleeting life is,
that what we have got is caught in the here and now,
in the glitter and sparkle of the moment,
where I cannot still draw you near;
while you are doing your undressing dance.

VII


While you are doing your undressing dance
my beloved auburn girl, you are standing there winking,
while braless you gambol around me
catching me in a trance

and the sincerity of your glance, the sparkle
at times is terrifying as if it maims,
as if something gruesome shines in your eyes,
spread your web for me without a chance of escape

let smoke rise from sparks
in the temple of my heart
and when the fire alarms are wailing and I yearn for you
you have already caught me and can be silent,
you play your game and I my part to it;
glowing lights are radiating in the night.

VIII

Glowing lights are radiating in the night,
bringing joy to the dark hour
and in my veins power rushes
of passion’s glowing fire

of earthly desires, as if from the ground
burning through my blood
when your sparking mouth
let desires awake in a pouring flood

and creeping your hand sail over my chest
in flaming lust,
in the hour of deeper thirst
that only lips, hands and bodies can answer to,

it feels as if in emotions we are overstepping the mark;
tonight there is a potsherd moon.

IX

Tonight there is a potsherd moon
as if the moon is breaking in pieces
there’s only a piece of it glowing in the heaven
and very slowly

it rises in the sky, as if it is following the stars in its orbit
where it hangs high as apiece, until the morning comes eventually,
showing early morning still against the blue sky
until its brilliance disappears, suddenly wasted

and still it’s as if the moon has enchanted me,
with its rays and shadows
falling secretly over my whole life,
it enchants me with love
that I find without fear;
when you kiss me a star shoots past.

X

When you kiss me a star shoots past,
you are the sunshine of this summer,
you make me mad with passion,
as the answer to what my life is yearning for

and in the dark night
when you come and lie
somewhat afraid next to me, supple and soft
there’s passion that I read in your eyes.

Your lips stroke butterfly soft over my mouth,
at times only touches my cheek,
as if near to holy ground
free and never caught

with eyes at times gleaming secretively;
you smell of flowers blooming in spring.

XI

You smell of flowers blooming in spring
fresh, noble and sweet
and its as if thousands of streams flows through your eyes,
as if a glowing

is radiating out of them
but against your blouse sinful blossoms are showing,
an attraction, a stimulation that goes to your loins
where all promises, all relationships ends

as if you are the flower of flowers,
out of which all others come,
going the way of Eve, with great loving
drawing every man, to whom you glance astoundingly

and in this spring you smile at me,
as if you can free me from every other woman.

XII

As if you can free me from every other woman
with lasciviousness in every step,
you are only looking at me
and sometimes your eyes radiate like thunder

and when age come with the years,
will fire then still rise between us
when our youth disappears into the grey, bended in spent disguise,
beginning to show the road to eternity?

Will we then still know the meaning of love,
when all other things begin to fade away
like fog in the brain and memory
and will we still dare

where things now look lovely and heavenly
to look past the surface?

XIII

To look past the surface
how the terribly strong wind
is blowing the winter rain away,
one morning I was gazing with moisture blinding me

while the palm trees were waving around,
it was grabbing broken branches,
with the water in the distance looking grey in the bay
and I was walking unnoticed to your window

and I was wondering if you
would look down from the top window,
maybe would spot me, if I would be able to get in touch with you
and even that gloomy day was lustrous to me

as you love me in times of joy and sorrow;
now that winter is drawing skeleton.


XIV

Now that winter is drawing skeleton
with days bending like branches over me,
with a few birds rising calling into the air,
have I got to miss you, search for you for joy and meaning?

Am I still blinded
against the errors that you scream out,
where like all others you are caught in this age?
Still there’s something in me that wants to find you

and I dream right through the night
how your slender arms embrace me,
I see you in other faces during the day,
as if you are close to me
and I wonder what to expect of these things
while the leaves of the acorn are falling and perishing around me?

XV

Tonight for the first time I caught your gaze,
our friendship came suddenly,
like two jewels your eyes are shining,
by our own free will we are incorporated into each other.

You were twisting from sheer pleasure
when the cold rain pours down,
while you are doing your undressing dance,
flowing lights are radiating in the night.

Tonight there is a potsherd moon,
when you kiss me a star shoots past,
you smell of flowers blooming in spring,
as if you can free me from every other woman
to look past the surface
now that winter is drawing skeleton.

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Our World

We live in a world of deceit and greed,
But, also one of beauty and honor-I must concede
There is an enigmatic dichotomy to be sure;
The diversity that confounds, also provides its allure!
The same world that will make your heart break,
Is the same world that is sure to make
You believe in God, if you do not already!
Think about all the world has to offer-its heady
Just to ponder its sheer magnificence;
It makes us all accept our own insignificance-
We are naught more than microscopic dots on a massive canvas
That is the ever-changing painting, that is
Our world-yes, our's-and we are its stewards-
If we take care of Her, She showers us with rewards!

-Maurice Harris,17 July 2011

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The Ballad of the Rose Trilogy

1st Ballad

A SUMMER'S NIGHT

I will never forget that summer
that summer I fall in love for the first time
it happened after my college graduation
i decided to take a vacation in a mountain
to my aunt's house where i was born.

The first time I saw her, it was in the church
she's so beautiful like an actress I admire
i never stop to glace at her every moment
my heart never stop to beat fast
after that day that i never thought

That I would see her for the second time
in the barangay where i live
in store, where i bought something
as i glance at her, she's mysterious
like Mona Lisa, so i never let her away

Ask her name, her name is Irma
I invite her to dance tonight
a dance to the barangay's fiesta
at first she refuse but i convince her
she agree then she smile at me.

In the eve of the fiesta, the moon is full
I grab her hands, she follow me
i never thought she will dance with grace
as we dance she talk to me,
she no longer mysterious to me

As the dance ends, under moon's light
we went to a solitary place
I never thought this would happen
everything happens so past
we kiss then lay down in a grass

As I enter inside of her, she smile,
the great pain I feel, she stand,
the blood flows, I lose my p***s
it fall in front of me as she opens hers
she look at me and she said,

' Your an idiot, you deserve this
by the way, everything I said to you is lie
i don't live here, i live in hell! '
she laugh i saw here leave
i bathe in blood, i loose my consciousness.

As I wake up, I am in the hospital
I thought it's just a nightmare
but it's true, i have no p***s anymore
as I get better, they ask me, i lie to them
the truth is embarrassing so

It has been a years from now,
I never heard of her again
I am older, I never been married,
I will never ever forget that summer
that summer i fall with a rose with thrones!

2nd Ballad

p.80

Janna,

I just want to thank you!
Thank you being my best friend through all these years.
For being my wife, for loving me all these time.
My love, my heart beat is right...
You are my forevermore.

Remember that first time we meet?
We were young at that time.
How could i forget it was our high school days.
It was in the school canteen
You left your book and I run after you
I never knew the woman I am looking for
Is the most beautiful woman in the campus.
The woman every man could fall in love.

So we became friends and the right time comes,
I tell you the truth, we became lovers
And the day I proposed you...remember that day?
I gave you the sweet red rose,
And I said ' My beautiful Janna, will you marry me? '
I thought I get busted then you said 'Yes.'
I am the happiest man in the world.

My dearest wife, all these years
Though our marriage is not perfect,
You make me happy, you inspire me
Your the best mother to our children
I love you so much.

Janna, as I am writing this letter,
I could not stop to cry
The doctor told me I have Alzheimer's Disease
I know soon will never remember you anymore.
Please don't be sad my love, don't cry on me

Do you remember your favorite book?
I brought for you for the last time
I put it on beneath your cabinet
When you see it, please turn to page 80
Then you'll see the sweet red rose
A rose just like I gave you the day I proposed you

My dearest wife, I love you
One day I will no longer remember you
Please my love, do not sad
Embrace the book I gave you for the last time
And do always remember the rose.

I loved you now... I will love you forever!
Farewell my love... farewell...

Nael.

3rd Ballad

A Love at the End of the World


It is 3: 00 in the afternoon here in Embarcadero
I am still waiting for her come...
I miss her so much, it's been 4 years from now since then
while I am waiting for her, i wanna tell you a story
a story of my life when I was in college

I am lonely man living in a lonely world
Until the time I board to Daraga to focus to my study
I never know my life change forever
I remember one time I am alone up the rooftop
She come there crying, she's drunk
I try to talk to her she replied
Her name is Rose, she's one of my boardmate...
One of my classmate at school
the first time i saw though it's
my heat beats fast, it telling me she's the one...
we became friends until the 4th year
never dared to her the felling inside
until the before gradation I date her
we watched romantic movie and we went to Embarcade
I tell her the truth, she was surprise
she replied, ' If you could wait 4 years then we will be.
Maybe that year, all my dreams already fullfill.'
then I replied, 'I will wait for you. After 4 years here in this place...
At 4: 00 in the afternoon, promise me you would come'
She smile then said, 'Promise.'

It's 4: 15 in the afternoon, I am still waiting for her
now I am hearing someone calling behind my back
I turn around, i see it, i was surprise...
It's her... but she's different now...
she's very, very, very much fat
oh, i hope turn back the clock right now,
but still i am gonna propose to her right
i am already 50 years old... i dont wanna get extinct.

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The Untold Story

Forbidden mistakes kept me alive,
For a few years,
Then after year five,
I started living with tears.

Love was nowhere to be found,
Why me, Why me?
To live just has a hound,
This just isn't fair, don't you agree?

After a little while,
Guilt started to take over,
I even forgotten how to smile,
My life started to say: Mircea, Game Over!!

Someone said eat chocolate,
It's sweet and you'll feel better,
But that was a mistake,
Now I'm fat and cannot put on my old sweater.

Money came next,
But not to me,
They came in checks,
And quickly left and so did she.

What happen to those promises?
Where is she?
I guess somewhere sharing kisses,
And forgetting about me.

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The Last Time You Loved

(brian neary)
I think there are people who need to be loved
Lonely and hiding the light from their eyes
Still too afraid to light up the night
Too lonely to come out of hiding
Well Ive seen you with the young girls
They come when you call
They make love so easy
They dont love at all
You want me to come running
When your worlds falling in
You want me till you got me
Then youre gone again
And your passion comes so easy
Then you ease away from me
Cause the last time you loved was the first time you ever cried
It was the first time you ever really loved
Its the last time you ever tried
Your defenses become you, now you become them
Its one night on the weekend
Then youre gone again
Well Im tears and Im passion and theres a woman in me
Stop all your runnin and Ill set you free
And I stand before you naked, and my soul is on my sleeve
And the last time you loved was the first time you ever cried
It was the first time you ever really loved
And its the last time you ever tried
It was the first time you ever really loved
Say its not the last time youll ever try

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The First Time

Sadly, you cannot recapture
the magic of the first time
no matter how hard you try.
The bliss you felt the first time
remains a fragment in our memories.
Return to recreate them
can never recapture
those moments again.
They will always remain elusive
inheriting our memories and our dreams.
They are doors that are closed
never to reopen again.


(13 July 2011)

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Master of Basicness

Just because they have shown him love and respect...
And treat him as if he already leads.
This does not mean he is lacking in experience.
What it does show,
However...
Are those with claims of having it,
Have a slight problem convincing others around the world...
They have a handle on interpretations.
And a progression of incompetence...
Which has long jumped off,
A fence.
But,
With a however to add.
Then again...
They have had many years providing proof,
They are right.
But misunderstood!

They have had many years providing proof,
They are right.
But misunderstood!

They have had many years providing proof,
They are right.
But misunderstood!

And millions of people have been misunderstanding them.
With a clouded comprehension.
There are those who have no idea what it takes to dress for dinner.
And then...
There are those who who not only know how to select a chef...
But also know how to select a menu,
With an overview of how to meet and greet 'all' the arriving guests!

And he upsets the apple cart,
By disregarding an etiquette that upsets.
He is the 'Master of Basicness'.
And does this better than the rest!
Leaving those behind who oppose...
His napkins aren't folded.
And they do that the best!

He wants to end a disasterous past...
With a new beginning!
They with their experience...
Wish to begin reminiscing disasters from the past.
As reminders to keep endings from ever ending.
With an experienced fresh outlook,
They have been proposing...
That can not seem with them,
To ever quite begin!

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Without You

Sure
This is not the first day
The sun rise without yr smile
This is not the first day
The wind twirl without yr sign
This is not the first day
The moon lost without yr spell
This is not the first day
The star blink without yr wish
This is not the first day,
I went through without you

But
This is the first time
I hear the song without a sound
This is the first time
I see the colorless rainbow
This is the first time
I felt the breeze of summer
This is the first time
I am haunted by my own shadow
This is the first time,
I feel odd without you

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A friend will know you better in the first minute they see you, than your acquaintance will in a thousand years.

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One should punish a child the first time he comes home with a stolen egg. Otherwise, the day he returns home with a stolen ox, it will be too late.

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Knowing For The First Time That You Write Poems Too

this is
the circle of life
in a trance
and dance
i am inside its
island of
exclusion
and i for one
thought that
this is but
a small world
where i
barely fit in
with no one
bothering
to like and enter
inside
this circle of
words
and then
you come
and dance
yourself to the
beat of the
numbers in your
mind as i
in total amazement
watch
you step upon
the dance of
freedom

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