a poem about the cornish landscape and surviving trauma
Now a days everything is available in the market, in Taiwan professional mourners are crying and weeping for strangers.
This is a word of love from the Saviour to those who are brokenhearted - to assure them that the sun will shine again - and the flowers will also bloom again.
The title mischief-monger that I earned in my childhood days lasted for many years.Till date I don't know why that title was conferred on me and what mistake I committed.
Once my mother rebuked and caned me for my childhood pranks, but it became a memorable experience to me and I cannot forget it. I described that unforgettable beautiful event in this poem.
These are my ideas about yesterday now and possible future.
So many people that I know are going through tough times (financially, emotionally, physically, spiritually). This poem is meant to strengthen and encourage. Weeping may endureth for a night; but joy cometh in the morning.
Childhood memories are always sweet. I wrote this poem in memory of my teacher Mohammed Hussain who was very kind but very strict so that the children could learn with confidence and discipline. My teacher was an ordinary down-to-earth person who lived in a hut. The teaching would ...
~words of philosophers should mean something~Morrison said we trade reality for a role to play~Manson: it used to mean something to be crazy~now everyone is~and Nietzsche: there is always some madness in love~is wisdom worth the price I wonder~
I forgot to remember who said these things~hatred is a very unestimated emotion~whomever fights monsters should be careful not to become one~do a thing~do it well~leave something witchy behind~I became insane between horrible intervals of sanity~fear is the mother of morality~