Here’s to the ones whose names I’ve only heard of, Faces perhaps I have seen, but souls I’ve never met, Hearts I’ve never known to be so earnest in their words. It takes a penny to aid, but tenfold to invest In stones which value nowhere close to diamonds, Yet they sacrifice comfort in a manner so persistent. How they triumph over greed.
Here’s to the ones who won’t think of the trouble They face as they go out of their way; for they can Only think of the trouble faced by those who would struggle To make it through another day had they not lend a hand. Hours, dollars and hassle they won’t fuss over And all that they say is that it’s the least that they can do. Evident is their noble hearts.
Here’s to the ones who go against the odds And say that distance is never a barrier, for what They can’t give with their hands, they give with their thoughts. And though it may seem like nothing, they know that To battered souls thoughts can be antidotes, So they lend their ears and share their hearts. Blessed are their souls.
Ever since I was small, I counted the cents that I owe, Have always pledged to never burden a soul. And I swear that I’ve tried to keep my mouth shut About the wounds and bruises on this battered heart.
And now I have not a clue on how to repay The endless sacrifices which you have made. And though again and again, I worded a “thank you”, I don’t think it’s enough to convey my gratitude.
So here’s an ode to the ones who care. To the ones whose heart breaks upon our despair. Here’s to the ones who have proven time again… That though blood may make you related, Loyalty is what makes you family.
I was eating my third,
Serving of bean curd.
When a merry tune was heard.
Of a little hummingbird.
I peeked through the curtain.
And saw her in my garden.
Where there was a pot of Petunias.
And also some Begonias.
She perched on a flower,
Which was white with streaks of purple.
There she sang even louder,
Awaking my cat, Clover.
Clover begin to chase,
The little bird in a haste.
Despite my cries of “STOP!”
Clover ran into the pot.
She tumbled as she pounced,
And hit my pot with a bounce.
“My Petunias!” I cried,
As Clover crouched down terrified.
I don’t actually have a cat named Clover. In the photo above is Apricot, the elder brother of the three cute kittens in my previous poem, My Cute Prixs. Apricot is a very nice and witty cat. Clover however is inspired by Apricot the fact that when he realise that he had done something wrong, it will crouch down– ready to be scolded.
I wrote this poem as a comment to my sister’s poem, Mr. Steve and Little P. You might want to read that first before reading my poem.
The kids had actually invaded his office you see
Because of the naughty Muffin and of course, Little P
They said that Mr. Steve wont mind if they want to see
The super cool telescope at the edge of the balcony
When indeed the balcony is never a safe place
For they will end up having a mad game of chase
For it have no walls and no railings to hold
Four naughty children who Mr. Steve can’t control
My little brother, told us that WordPress organised an event called NaPoWriMo where we have to write a poem a day, everyday on April. We decided to join the event to practice our poetry skills. Unfortunate for me though, I knew about the NaPoWriMo on the second day of April which means, I won’t be able to write a poem a day…
After spending a long time in front of the computer, wondering what poem should I write with the deafening sound of the renovation going on at a neighbouring house, the only lines that could get into my head were:
Bricks and blocks,
Crash and clang.
Round the clock,