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The Country I loveEveryone can tell you how much they love their countries. But each one of us has his own way to see his country. I will tell you about my country. Here, where people have a million ways to look at it. There are some people who reduce it in passport or an Identity Card. There are who reduce it in a piece of land they own. There are who picture it in a piece of cake, to devour whenever they are filled with greed. They are who die for it, a thousand times a day, and nobody even notices them. There are people who cheat this country, who spy on it, and who feel sorry for it. And in my country there is moreThe Country I love
by *saida-freestar
We Walk Through Heaven's DoorDon't make me wait, come and touch every spot All those mountains and hills, Im saving you a lot Kill your thirst, swim in my stream and fill your potWe Walk Through Heaven's Door
Let your hands walk through my dusty roads tonight Follow them,where on my blank sheets you can write
Let me kiss your kiss and drink your salt and wine İn your kind darkness my drops of sweat shine Those wonderlands are yours, and what yours is mine
İ am no more a body , and you are no more a soul We are one lonely beat, was found for once and all So,cover me with your s
by *saida-freestar
My thirst for you.İt rains outside tonight İ miss youMy thirst for you.
Myriads of savage raindrops
Falling around at will
On this suffocating somber hell hole That witnessed my misery
For a decade , eagerly
Some timid outcast raindrops hit my window
And wait for a warm welcome in such despairing innocence. But soon they start rolling down
As if they see me frowning inside
Yet my eyes wide shut with this cramp in my throat
İt still rains outside Reminds me my thirst for you
by *saida-freestar
The Wrong PotionI am empty eyes looking nowhere, try to solve the puzzle I am that snake, I deceived you, tempted you with an apple My space in invaded , my consciousness tends to rattle Lengthy pauses, you can't recognize me, Im no longer vernalThe Wrong Potion
Afraid of this deep cold, this silence , this tenebrific forces Leave me then In my room,safe, sure, I don't need choices Here where God's existence creates no tension,but blesses
We are strangers,passing by, in an unknown station No return, for you can't rescue me, or give me salvation
by *saida-freestar
She Is A Prostitute..I need extra cash, to make it through another day No food in the fridge, and I have bills to pay No education, or office skills,all I do is to staryShe Is A Prostitute..
I don't prefer to work in broad daylight Only after the dusk enters, and during the night Being solicited is fine, just pay me and I'm yours tonight
I have been told I have treasures, and I can make money I wore that face, I can make you believe and call you honey You are all over me, yet I'm not feeling you, isn't that funny
Everyday I lay down on random beds,with random strangers The images en
by *saida-freestar
Alone With A Cold TearTrying to hold, you with both hands and sear eyes Trying to survive on your shoulders is no surprise Trying to hide my defeat behind your shadow as you riseAlone With A Cold Tear
Show me the way as I tramble here, In and out Hold me to you as I release my last scared shout
I'm calling you , kneeling down, don't push me away Leave your doors open, listen to the words I say Take me along with you, be sure that love can't betray
You whispered you will be always there, you lied On my own, you left me, rejected me, and I
by *saida-freestar
| Those are my precious poems I love them so much, for the simple fact, that they are from my deep down,i write because i need to, writing for me it's not a secondary passion , it's my main passion, my main intrest. I'm sure if you read some you will enjoy. |
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Understand Life In Another Way
| RABINDRANATH a great Indian poet and mystic, again has to be remembered. He wrote six thousand songs -- seems to be the greatest poet the world has ever known -- and each song is a beauty. But when he was dying he was crying, he was saying to God, "The song that I wanted to sing, I have not sung yet." An old friend was by the side of the bed, and the old friend said, "What are you saying? Have you gone mad? You have sung six thousand songs. In Europe, Shelley is thought to be one of the greatest poets. He has sung only two thousand songs. You have defeated him three times. You should be happy and contented!" Rabindranath opened his tear-filled eyes and he said, "I am not. Yes, six thousand songs I have sung, but you don't know the inner story. The inner story is, I wanted to sing only one song! But because it never was possible.... I tried once, failed; I tried again, I failed. Six thousand times I have failed. Those are all efforts, and I am not satisfied with any of them. That which I wanted to sing is still unsung." In fact nobody can sing it. So go on painting, go on creating. Yet I tell you again and again, you will never be satisfied. I bless you that you should never be satisfied, but let each moment of your creativity be a great contentment. But when something is finished, move ahead. You have infinite capacities to create; you are unlimited, you don't have any limits to your potential. You are not aware what you can do, and you will never be aware unless you do it! Read more here [link] |
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- Current Residence: Morocco, Eljadida
- Interests: Writing, Reading, Thinking.
- Favourite movie: The Hours
- Favourite band or musician: Michael jackson(R.I.P)
- Favourite poet or writer: Najib Mahfoud,Elmanfalouti, Dickenson, Edgar allen poe
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xox Annie xox
always & forever
Cantaria sin parar
Por lo que hiciste en mi
Danzaria siempre Dios
Por Tu gran amor
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"To photograph is to hold one's breath, when all faculties converge to capture fleeting reality. It's at that precise moment that mastering an image becomes a great physical and intellectual joy.”
Henri Cartier-Bresson (French Photographer, 1908-2004)
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Flushing my own head on the toilet, fun!
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I found a magical cookie today
But I ate it
Now I have antlers
...and no cookie
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~clubKHR
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