Wednesday, April 6, 2016

I AM A KALON

THE BOYS WHO FOUGHT IN NAM


Passed hand to hand ,
the wishes, 
the dreams,
the hopes,
of an entire generation
an entire nation
sent to war,
a score,
of old men,
leading our boys
to die,
while we watched
in horror,
in pain
in grief,
the disbelief,
that we had to loose ,
so many of our boys,
their toys,
barely left behind,
their eyes,
so young,
so bright,
so full of hope
the fight
so long,
so sad,
the pain,
so bad,
the wounds
so deep,
until at last,
our young men sleep,
in their makers arms again
their names  carved,
in stone,
never to come home,
never to touch our tears
again...
lest we forget
lest we grow old,
our hearts must never
 be so cold.
we must not run and hide
we must remember them
the boys who died...
let it not be in vain,
let us not forget,
the pain,
the cries,
the agonies,
the braveries,
the heroes,
and the smiles,
that time, 
so long ago,
across so many miles
caught in a place so bright
so green
caught in a place 
just between
hope and lies
we must remember still,
the promise that,
we always will,
touch our hearts
while still,
we can,
remember,friends...
remember...
the boys who died,
who lived,
who cried
the boys who fought
in Nam.

hey guys,
I know this was a lengthy one but if you made it to the end congratulations! In this post i will be sharing a bit more about my self because i got a few requests! Moving on, i wish i could take the credit for that beautiful verse but naah.. i did not write that! Again..I DID NOT WRITE THAT! But it is however one of my favorite poems ever, I came across this poem in a novel i read years ago, "the cover page above" i lost that book, and i also lost my diary where i wrote this poem out (long story), but i never forgot it.. i searched forever for it on the internet and finally found it recently, sadly it was written by an  anonymous poet.. a father who had lost his child to war, and left to bury his  teenage son. He somehow found the perfect words to express every feeling he felt down to the last full stop and in all that grief managed to shine a ray of hope to all the other fathers going through the same thing and that's what poetry does!Gives a voice to even the deaf and dumb! So, I got some requests to share some more personal experiences and things about myself so here goes.. i'll try my best to answer all the questions i can as efficiently as possible.

 About my poetry, my gift , my blessing?. I think for the better part of two decades i've been in love with literature as a whole, in its various forms. I've written a hand full of short stories and a dozen more of poems, A lot of which i lost to stolen phones, torn up diaries, bad computers that needed flashing and what not.
The truth is people tend to pay little or no attention to poetry. We underestimate how powerful words are when properly constructed, and at a point i did too. At a point i thought of poetry as lame, i became too shy to profess my love for it, years passed by and loads of poems i wrote over the years were lost. Someone asked me to share my story and i thought why not?


I read my first book ''the sky is falling '' by Sidney Sheldon when i was in primary 5. I had no interest in it at the time but my sister made me read it because she wanted me to start working on  my vocabulary from a tender age, it took me forever to finish that book because it was really big with a very small font compared to what i was used to at that level. I read it anyway, and by the time i was done she gave me a couple more..and i kept reading.. by primary six , i had read a hand full then i had this little book where i write new words and their meanings, just like that i started making sentences with them and from those, i made verses which translated into poems. over time i joined various book clubs, and thus began my logolepsy. Someone also asked How do i do it? well , i would say its a bit of an aleatory situation because i find that i can't just sit anywhere and just write, its like a combination of factors coming together to create the perfect atmosphere and oddly, they come by quite often. My inspiration could be an experience i have had in the past, or that of someone close to me, a movie, a song, or just the perfect view, really its nature . Said sister also pushed me to open this blog, and at least share my gift with the world because frankly i kept dreaming of my poems being heard but i had no idea how to go about it, i just had pages and files of poems stacked up and rotting away.. so let me use this medium to thank my sis (u know urself boo).. cuz you really wouldn't be reading this if it weren't for her, and every single one of my siblings have been extremely supportive in my journey and it has only just begun. 
Over the years, I've been called a lot of names ranging from weird to crazy but i believe in poems,that's not gonna change. I am a kalon, poetry made me a kalon. Its my thing..i find that i am happiest with a pen, paper, and words..  as Jack kerouac said ''don't use the phone.People are never ready to answer it. Use poetry"
Kalon- a Beauty that is more than skin deep (n).

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WITH ALL MY HEART,
PAMELA.

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