From childhood's oras I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same pinagmulan I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My puso to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the ulap that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
Russian Roulette
If no one ever marries me,—
And I don’t see why they should,
For nurse says I’m not pretty,
And I’m seldom very good—
If no one ever marries me
I shan’t mind very much;
I shall buy a ardilya in a cage,
And a little rabbit-hutch:
I shall have a cottage near a wood,
And a parang buriko all my own,
And a little tupa quite clean and tame,
That I can take to town:
And when I’m getting really old,—
At twenty-eight or nine—
I shall buy a little orphan-girl
And bring her up as mine.
—Laurence Alma-Tadema
And I don’t see why they should,
For nurse says I’m not pretty,
And I’m seldom very good—
If no one ever marries me
I shan’t mind very much;
I shall buy a ardilya in a cage,
And a little rabbit-hutch:
I shall have a cottage near a wood,
And a parang buriko all my own,
And a little tupa quite clean and tame,
That I can take to town:
And when I’m getting really old,—
At twenty-eight or nine—
I shall buy a little orphan-girl
And bring her up as mine.
—Laurence Alma-Tadema
I may only be One Voice,
But my One Voice is important because without my One Voice we could never have one million Voices.
my one Voice stands for ME.
what I think.
what I believe in.
and who I am.
My Voice is unique
But so is every other Voice
and every Voice is important*
So let your Voice be heard, be One in a million Voices
*not part of the original poem:
Important because millions of voices can create a defaning roar.
These black tears are the unshed blood from the wounds you left me
Not scars that healed, but fresh wounds that still bleed
You left my very soul in tatters, never mind my heart
But that someone who had taken you from me, had to take that too, and rip it apart
I don’t know who made you leave, or why, but I do know this,
That if you could, you would relive all the happy memories with me that I now have to miss
Now just as you are, the happy times are a ghost, a whisper in the wind
It feels like no matter how things turn out for me, this sadness that came over me will never end
It’s also selfish, wanting you to be here with me
You’re healed of sickness and pain, happy now with your other family
You were and angel when you were here
Now you’re just a different kind
One that will be our guardian until we can find you again
When we find our way to the light
Not scars that healed, but fresh wounds that still bleed
You left my very soul in tatters, never mind my heart
But that someone who had taken you from me, had to take that too, and rip it apart
I don’t know who made you leave, or why, but I do know this,
That if you could, you would relive all the happy memories with me that I now have to miss
Now just as you are, the happy times are a ghost, a whisper in the wind
It feels like no matter how things turn out for me, this sadness that came over me will never end
It’s also selfish, wanting you to be here with me
You’re healed of sickness and pain, happy now with your other family
You were and angel when you were here
Now you’re just a different kind
One that will be our guardian until we can find you again
When we find our way to the light
