Poetry

Football Fever

They wake up in national colors
They plan to party before he game
They even will sleep out for joy
They have a huge soccer spirit
They dance to Lone Star play on
Frenzy Football Fever
They wear blue jeans all of them
They sport red t-shirts to declare
They wear head bands and bandanas
They hold their breaths by our goal
They sing and grove to a good victory
Frenzy Football Fever
They roasts and toasts over food
They file in long queue to buy ticket
They gather in clusters to chant loud

Women in tears

My journey started with a step.
I know my destiny but lost on the start.
What will it take? What if it’s just a habit? What will people say?
I needed to walk this thought out so I walked, I walked, I walked.
It’s clear now.
This is my purpose.
This is my life.
Just like the dung beetle, the only one that can explain why is my maker.
I’m thankful to the ones that encourage me.
Thank you, thank you, and thank you.
But on the real, I’m extremely grateful to the ones that try to discourage me.

Life in misery

Living life in misery sees a sinking man
Drowns to the depth of his death
Weeping and sobbing
He breathes the breath of hardship
Bravely begging for survival the
Aid of the enemies of justice
And singing the song of his future freedom
With tears at his tender cheeks
Living life in misery plots the death of the innocent
And seals the city of joy with sorrow salient
To the perpetrators of evil
Breaking the cage of captivity in misery
Is his dream only to be achieved
By his generous generations to come

We Are Marching

Away from the figures that pile so high
Into a zone of comfort for a short season
Shaking off the dust we accumulated then
Not remembering too our eyelid are shaded
Hasting into the tomorrow still in the past
We Are Marching..........

As fleeting scenes from a melee of time
The cries echoes from mouths of unborn
Resonates how warm and even cold we are
Deeds of selfless generosity breaks barriers
Feeds into the corners of where morsel lacks
We Are Marching...........

Fighting The Odds

Seldom when the darkest hours stump in
Hardly the trouble heart got time to beat
Rarely will the lips utter words of assurance
Deep inside the battle with that rising fright
Of situations that cannot even be understood
Not so easily will freedom rings at thy doors
The other side no guarantee of safety therein
Standing at a threshold of doubts and dread
Astonish as the invisible power that surmount
A courageous psyche must brave the storms
Be strong enough to stay ashore the turmoil

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