From the dangers of discontent
I could no longer hear your plea
Nor the caveats of my descent
I had a notebook before containing poems I wrote when I was still in primary school. I hope I can share some contents with you but I am still having a hard time finding it.
My first poem was about my mother’s father. I wrote it when I was 8. He was especially kind to me. He would buy me my favorite. Ripe mangoes, that is!
Reminiscing the old times, I write another poem. Only this time, he is not here to read it anymore. Still, I am hoping that if he can hear me, he would smile at this poem like he used to.
Here’s the poem entitled, Grandpa.
Not sure if anyone noticed…
If you type hourhand.wordpress.com, you will be redirected to ideastrike.net
Don’t worry, this is not a fake website. This is the new domain name for this site.
Thank you to all of you for reading.
Hi! I’ve just chosen a new template for this site.
Hope readers will like this better than the previous template.
Al cielo.. e niente di meno!🌈
Freestyle Writing | Schizo Mental Health
museprints from my notebook
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Into one's life a little poetry must fall
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