Tonight I can write the saddest lines - Pablo Neruda
Write for example, 'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to a pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
My Friend
Who hurt your heart?
You breathe with such poison.
Where is your soul?
Your life has darkened, it's almost black.
Who deprived you of colors?
You walk with such anger and you think it's right.
Who broke your spine?
You chose the dark side.
Do you know nothing else?
You feel despair, you feel little.
Who stole your hope?
My friend,
Hold my hand, you'll feel warmth.
Touch my heart, you'll feel life.
Look into my soul, you'll see love.
Speak to me, I'll tell you about the light.
Walk with me, I'll help you through.
I'm not afraid, why are you?
by Hebbah Elgindy
Mitt hjärta lämnade jag hemma
Tonight I can write the saddest lines
Write, for example,'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my sould is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
By Pablo Neruda
Fugitive Pieces
There's a piece of me that belongs to you.
A piece of me that beats for you.
And a piece of me that is
possessed by you.
There's another piece of me that is constantly in need of you
And one that comes to life only by the company of you
Another piece that only awakes
to live for you.
There's a piece inside of me that has grown weary from the love it holds for you,
and another aching piece that screams to be heard by you.
There's a piece of me that knows only you,
and one last piece that won't sparkle to want anyone else
unless it is the venomous life potion
that is you.
Those are ten shattered pieces of me that come together as a heart that beats with a sound of an echo for you.
Ten pieces of a broken heart that try each day to unite so they can form a bigger solid piece that could beat as one unit for you.
Those are scattered pieces of me that are helplessly seeking to be reassembled by you,
pieces that are bitterly
and yet utterly
in mad love with you.
By Rana Joda
Calypso girl
The palm trees where only visible in the moon light
There she was, a girl dancing in the middle of the arena
Looking like the number one prima ballerina
Her earrings were big and made of gold
Indeed not everyone got the chance of her body to hold
But when she whines she would let HIM come up behind her
No other would have been better
A perfect King to her crown
The sweat made her soft skin glance
Her arms, raised to the sky, had the perfect tone of light brown
And if the two of them wanted, they would be tight
All night
Even until the first sign of morning light
They all looked when she moved her hips fast,
And they thought her body wouldn’t last
Then all of the sudden she would stop
And do it all again,
but this time slow
Cause the room was filled with the vibes of reggae and calypso
Old Poem By BagLady, inspired by Collie Buddz - Mamacita
The Magdalene Laundries
Id just turned twenty-seven
When they sent me to the sisters
For the way men looked at me
Branded as a jezebel
I knew I was not bound for heaven
Id be cast in shame
Into the Magdalene laundries
Most girls come here pregnant
Some by their own fathers
Bridget got that belly
By her parish priest
Were trying to get things white as snow
All of us woe-begotten-daughters
In the streaming stains
Of the Magdalene laundries
Prostitutes and destitutes
And temptresses like me--Fallen women--
Sentenced into dreamless drudgery
...Why do they call this heartless place
Our lady of charity? Oh charity!
These bloodless brides of Jesus
If they had just once glimpsed their groom
Then theyd know, and theyd drop the stones
Concealed behind their rosaries
They wilt the grass they walk upon
They leech the light out of a room
Theyd like to drive us down the drain
At the Magdalene laundries
Peg O'Connell died today
She was a cheeky girl
A flirt
They just stuffed her in a hole!
Surely to God youd think at least some bells should ring!
One day Im going to die here too
And theyll plant me in the dirt
Like some lame bulb
That never blooms come any spring
Not any spring
No, not any spring
Not any spring
By Joni Mitchel
Still I Rise
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
By Maya Angelou
You've never cared
I’ve been sitting here and waiting for you for so long that my feet have started to grow roots. But you don’t care.
I’ve been missing you so much that my heart beat has changed it’s rhythm to sound like your name. But you don’t care.
My eyes have been looking all over the crowd to see your familiar face that I’ve almost gone blind. But you don’t care.
You don’t care and you’ve never cared.
You’ve never cared for me.
Stay blessed
BagLadyMen
Watch behind the curtains
As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men.
Young men sharp as mustard.
See them. Men are always
Going somewhere.
They knew I was there. Fifteen
Years old and starving for them.
Under my window, they would pauses,
Their shoulders high like the
Breasts of a young girl,
Jacket tails slapping over
Those behinds,
Men.
One day they hold you in the
Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you
Were the last raw egg in the world. Then
They tighten up. Just a little. The
First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.
Soft into your defenselessness. A little
More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a
Smile that slides around the fear. When the
Air disappears,
Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,
Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.
It is your juice
That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.
When the earth rights itself again,
And taste tries to return to the tongue,
Your body has slammed shut. Forever.
No keys exist.
Then the window draws full upon
Your mind. There, just beyond
The sway of curtains, men walk.
Knowing something.
Going someplace.
But this time, I will simply
Stand and watch.
Maybe.
By Maya Angelou
Confession of Nubian Goddess
I don’t mess around with boys from my village
Because they would think I am a whore
and I know they would not hesitate to cause me
trouble with my father
The rage in his eyes
is not worth the short time of pleasure
these village boys give me
But I do mess around with the Nubian men
Because a girl has to survive
And no human, slave nor king, can be without
The Great Pleasure for too long
The Nubians think I am a Goddess
Especially when the beat of the drum
Makes my body move
I pretend not to see
the admiration they send out
Their fingertips are trying to touch
and I can almost feel it
With my female curves
they think I am a Goddess
Especially when the conversation to other women
makes my red lips swirl and crack up in a big smile
I pretend not to notice
the desire they send out
Their eyes are hung up to every word
and I can almost feel it
With my beautiful red lips
they think I am a Goddess
Many times I have to stop them
and remind them that
bowing to anyone else then the Great Allah
is blasphemy
By BagLady
The heart, the beat, the pain
Footsteps of you walking away
The heart, the beat, the love
Passion we once shared
The heart, the beat, the tears
Falling down, unstoppable
The heart, the beat, the pain
And all that is left is the pain
By BagLady
They went home
that never once in all their lives,
had they known a girl like me,
But... They went home.
They said my house was licking clean,
no word I spoke was ever mean,
I had an air of mystery,
But... They went home.
My praises were on all men's lips,
they liked my smile, my wit, my hips,
they'd spend one night, or two or three.
But...
By Maya Angelou
