Who Walks Along the Trees, by J. W. Cassandra. I haven’t put this poem into any of my volumes yet. I share it both in English and Hungarian. Trees are the marvel, the charm, the wonder in our lives, they are the sentinels of our lives – and the lungs of the planet… They give us, humans a shelter and a base for living: oxygene, firewood, house, fence, furniture, stick – cradle and coffin… And they give us the marvel of life. They sustain and accompany our lives. Let’s guard them together!
The Trees Reach up to the Skies Twice, Part 2, by J. W. Cassandra. I haven’t put this poem into any of my volumes yet. I share it both in English and Hungarian. I illustrated my poem with the photo of the hill nearby our home, with a windmill – and without the trees that had stood there as sentinels about for 75 years. All the poplars are cut down – and there’re no saplings, just the bald hill, that had been surrounded by a fence… Horror! Even irresponsibility! Trees are the lungs of the planet… And they give us, humans a shelter and everything: firewood, house, fence, furniture, torch, oxygene… – cradle and coffin… And they give us the marvel of life. They accompany our lives – and we humans see them reaching up to the skies when we are little children and are open for marvels, yet – and at very the end of our particular life… Let’s guard them together!
The Trees Reach up to the Skies Twice, Part 1, by J. W. Cassandra. I haven’t put this poem into any of my volumes yet. I share it both in English and Hungarian. I illustrated my poem with the photo of the hill nearby our home, with a windmill – and without the trees that had stood there as sentinels about for 75 years. All the poplars are cut down – and there’re no saplings, just the bald hill, that had been surrounded by a fence… Horror! Even irresponsibility! Trees are the lungs of the planet… And they give us, humans a shelter and everything: firewood, house, fence, furniture, torch, oxygene… – cradle and coffin… And they give us the marvel of life. They accompany our lives – and we humans see them reaching up to the skies when we are little children and are open for marvels, yet – and at very the end of our particular life… Let’s guard them together!
The Trees Reach up to the Skies Twice, Part 2, by J. W. Cassandra. I haven’t put this poem into any of my volumes yet. I share it both in English and Hungarian. I illustrated my poem with the photo of the hill nearby our home, with a windmill – and without the trees that had stood there as sentinels about for 75 years. All the poplars are cut down – and there’re no saplings, just the bald hill, that had been surrounded by a fence… Horror! Even irresponsibility! Trees are the lungs of the planet… And they give us, humans a shelter and everything: firewood, house, fence, furniture, torch, oxygene… – cradle and coffin… And they give us the marvel of life. They accompany our lives – and we humans see them reaching up to the skies when we are little children and are open for marvels, yet – and at very the end of our particular life… Let’s guard them together!
The Trees Reach up to the Skies Twice, Part 1, by J. W. Cassandra. I haven’t put this poem into any of my volumes yet. I share it both in English and Hungarian. I illustrated my poem with the photo of the hill nearby our home, with a windmill – and without the trees that had stood there as sentinels about for 75 years. All the poplars are cut down – and there’re no saplings, just the bald hill, that had been surrounded by a fence… Horror! Even irresponsibility! Trees are the lungs of the planet… And they give us, humans a shelter and everything: firewood, house, fence, furniture, torch, oxygene… – cradle and coffin… And they give us the marvel of life. They accompany our lives – and we humans see them reaching up to the skies when we are little children and are open for marvels, yet – and at very the end of our particular life… Let guard them together!
Maybe, I Shall Return Part 2, by J. W. Cassandra. I haven’t put this poem into any of my volumes yet. I share it both in English and Hungarian. I write in it the eternal loss and value – and the probable returning and rediscovery…
Maybe, I Shall Return Part 1, by J. W. Cassandra. I haven’t put this poem into any of my volumes yet. I share it both in English and Hungarian. I write in it the eternal loss and value – and the probable returning and rediscovery…
Maybe, I Shall Return Part 2, by J. W. Cassandra. I haven’t put this poem into any of my volumes yet. I share it both in English and Hungarian. I write in it the eternal loss and value – and the probable returning and rediscovery…
Maybe, I Shall Return Part 1, by J. W. Cassandra. I haven’t put this poem into any of my volumes yet. I share it both in English and Hungarian. I write in it the eternal loss and value – and the probable returning and rediscovery…
If you fall, I will pick you up… If you cry, I will make you smile. If you are alone, I may be there or not but my shadow will always be there …. If…
Homesick Far away from home Sometimes I feel so alone But don’t get me wrong I know, I know the same Sun is shining above On my head, oh my head Is spinning around with…
I have nothing to prove Anything to do right was wronged Nothing was accepted Nothing at all It doesn’t matter Cause when it’s all done The truth will be told And you’ll have to right your wrongs.
‘To Be in Love’ is an attempt by Gwendolyn Brooks to explain to the world, how the journey of their love story is going to be like. She beautifully explains how emotional roller-coaster this pilgrimage would possibly be for you if you truly fall in love with someone.
This is the poem about the limitations of the memory-feature of human brains. Due to these limitations, we tend to forget things. This poem lays down the whole logical sequence in which our brains start forgetting things.
This comes as a word of caution to all the writers desperately trying to create a masterpiece. No matter how beautiful your creation is, it will go down to oblivion, as we all will.
Victories come with a price. Here the ship may have successfully sailed through all the perils towards the victory, but the Captain is no longer alive to taste it. The captain, here, in this poem, refers to the late president of USA, Abraham Lincoln. The poem is written with reference to American Civil War of 1861-65.
