A Poem For a friend. Mish Bronte

Originally posted on charlotteakello's Blog:

Many times nature blesses us
Irks may come
Substituting our smiles
Hiding our eyes from the sky.

But with loved ones around
Rowing against the tides with us
Over looking all the dark clouds
Naturing our tiny flower gardens
Turning pages of our unsaid stories
Every dream has its way

Chances may seem rare
Hovering like the clouds which don’t stay long
Answering our prayers unsaid
Removing doubts and whatsoever
Lingering in the sea of the above.

Friends may not come always
It’s not always that a person can be so good
But when nature blesses us
The once in a while
We gotta hold it like an egg
Fragile yet treasured

Never wanting to let go
Never wanting to hurt
Never wanting to break
This friendship i got.

By Akello Charlotte
Makerere University
Uganda. Kampala

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go it let

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Originally posted on otherwise sane perspective:

let it go
let it go…
tomorrow’s another day

the trials and tribulations
only another breakdown away …

in the scope of it all
you remember your worth
and the love that’s resolved
in the strength of the earth

let it go … let the heart beat slow
find a pace that matches the next
climb the airwaves to peace
for the aspect holds
all the differentiation clear

and it wasn’t yours to begin
but to finish is never to end…

tomorrow’s another day
let it go
sail the darkness away

not just a sum of indignity
the might of a voice is prosperity
and the final word is no

… given the yes that says go, go, go…
on a time i was a better foundation
but will scream out loud across every nation

for one moment of quiet forgiveness…

let it go


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Don’t Give Up Hope Get Help

There is a reflection of pain in her eyes, as she fights back tears.
Trying to figure out why she has put up with it all of these years.
Innocence gone.
Just taken away.
Struggling to deal with it and be free someday.
Tries to tell someone but no one believes her cries.
Just another young girl getting some attention through lies.
Suicide has crossed her mind but she will not go out that way.
Thinking well maybe if he can’t find me, he just won’t rape me today.
Perfect smile.
Broken soul.
Living in this situation that she just can’t control.
Things get worse and he beats her more.
Loses all self respect for herself when he comes through that door.
Fed up and full of hope she tried to fight back.
He pulled out a knife, all she saw was black.
Out of her misery and out of her pain.
Put her in such a place that she can’t even explain.
But she tried to tell someone although they didn’t believe her cries.
Just maybe if someone would have listened…this young girl would still be alive.

The Un-Revealed love.

Originally posted on You and Me!!!!!!:

You smiled and giggled,

With the fact you said were,

Instead you uncovered the truth,

That it’s isn’t easy to live without my love.

You dismissed the reality,

With the shine in your eyes,

It came into noticed that,

Those were the blocked emotional cries.

The love died in you,

You explained it very well,

The increased heartbeat murmured me,

When my hands touched yours.

You walked away in no time,

The reason made it very clear,

The presence of mine in your life,

Still bothers you, as to your love hidden dear.

No promises to return back,

To see me again in life,

The warnings of concerned gave me hopes,

To believe in the words left unsaid…


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Originally posted on Poetry et al:

ImageCourtesy: writeabetternovel.net

ImageCourtesy: writeabetternovel.net

A prophet’s words are nothing of his own like the words that drop from the tip of a writer’s ink. Both are borne of a greater will and must exile their hearts to places unknown. As the beads that outline and define the contours of a woman’s waist, they are vessels that must make more room for one more and be the edge that will lead frail hearts on into believing what exists, what doesn’t, or even both…who cares?

A writer is what I say we all become, out of too much knowledge when what we see isn’t what we think we see and what we are isn’t what we see ourselves to be. When ordinary words begin to weigh too much on us and go viral like that madman who roamed my mother’s village telling us that his father wasn’t the son of his father…I laugh. Words!…

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