Title: 'Lessons in Life'

I'm learning to be strong
And I'm learning to speak out
And I'm learning to be assertive
Not shy, when I see things differently
And I'm learning not to hide away
And I'm learning not to disappear
And I'm learning 
(though it sometimes really hurts me)
Not to withdraw completely
And I'm learning to reach out
When I have something to share
And I'm learning that it's much
Much easier to be crystal clear.
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Poetry by Rev.Bola

(copyright: 16Dec11. -ARR)

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Title: 'Sailing Through' - Poetry and Art

Title: 'SAILING THROUGH' /Mix - (From Set) by Rev.Bola

Masts fall, like clear mainlands
Life, death, adventure
Travel grandly, like a mystery pirate.
 
Fall calmly, like a clear gull
O, endurance!
Sail swiftly, like a misty wind.

The seashell rises, like a cold moon
But where is, the lively whale?
From where is, the big breeze?

Desolation, death, adventure
Why does, the storm endure?
How does, the ship sail?
Life, faith, courage.

Clouds drift!
The cool moon, swiftly pulls to shore
Love, faith and courage
A sandy island in view!
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Poetry by Rev.Bola A.
(Copyright: 15Dec11 -ARR)
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Title: 'Weeping Memories' - Poetry and Art

Title: 'WEEPING MEMORIES' /Oils (From Set) - by Rev.Bola

'Weeping Memories' 

With the dying of time poets echo,
In the streets of discord memories breathe,
Under the cover of the mind the soul doth speak,
In the stillness of harmony where memories weep.

In the moonless dark, the old ones seek, 
Dis- establishment of guilt to defend the weak
Yet nought, was so valuable, throughout
As the cool-aid stains, which never came out
Or the hope, they could somehow, hide their doubt

Of green paper things, they've had their fill
My pocket and yours, adds much to the till
We like it or not, must contribute our share
To shaking that snow, right out of our hair

Like the object, of any desire
Let the acrid smoke inspire
Unlike the knife, that loves to cut
It won't make a puncture, in your gut

This web-like lust, would be no crime
Were it, but a mote, in the eye of time
  Like Latin, is language, but passed away
  With magic, the words,  all gone astray
Where to, for what, to find one day

Whether Wallet, Mallet, Mallard,
Or Walloon, Balloon, Bollard?
Life's ghastly problems, can be stubborn and hard
As the tide of time, flows relentlessly onward

Bronze face reveals little, of  the one within
Who sits alone with, green recycle bin
Quietly brewing, an escape from sin
  Mouth wide open, singing and sipping
  As notes hit the ceiling, bloody and dripping

'With the dying of time,  poets echo,
In the streets of discord, memories breathe,
Under the cover of the mind, the soul doth speak,
In the stillness of harmony, memories weep.'
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 Poetry by Rev.Bola A.
(copyright: 9.12.11 -ARR)
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