I read her verses

Than a poem read,That sets apartFeelings,That as humansWe should haveOf brotherhood,And that denyOur bitter historyOf grave injustice,And disgrace,That for so long have beenOur own, disgraceful waste!

A poem is born,Out of a pen,And feelings alone,No plan in mind,The words intertwine,Sometimes, with music,Sometimes, with rhyme,But always with feelingThat can’t be explained,Like after a drought,The Life-giving rain.

We drones, we pay the price,For their outspoken,Lies and gaffes,As for all the lawsThey ‘nicely’ dice,Together with theirUseless Staff!

Prelude,To Paradise.

With words,Holy be he who will,So chose your words carefully,Responsibly, lovinglyThere is time, still.

Deep inside me,This empty feeling,This lonely, ‘no home’,Travels, beside me.No warmth, no smiles,Just millions of miles,Of memories,Past, Present and Future,CollideUp and down in my mind,Up and down as they hide,Deep inside me!