World Poetry 5th Period

                  Ravi Sathasivam                                                                                               by Rhianna Brant Poem- When I Walk Alone When I walk alone, I think of you my love When I walk alone, I walk with broken heart When I walk alone, I walk with sadness When I walk alone, I walk with my silent tears When I walk alone, I walk with my sorrow When I walk alone, I walk with my sad memories When I walk alone, I walk with my shattered dream When I walk alone, I walk with my hands lifeless Love never walk alone but you made me walk alone You promised me that you will walk with me forever but you made me walk alone with my tears forever When the heaven stolen you from me yesterday All your promises are gone with the wind Today, You made me walk alone with out you my love and I promise you, I will walk alone till my journey ends                https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-my-soul-loves-your-heart/#content Ravi Sathasivam has always lived

The Farmer In Chaha O man who cultivates the field, how great is your merit! Wealth flows out from your fingers The sea gushes out in front of your home The crippled person comes to your house to beg You share with him your produce Because of this you receive blessing The orphan comes to your door to beg You share with him your produce Because of this you receive blessing The ants will not eat your fingers When you die you are destined for Paradise If you continue to live, you are destined for blessing https://commons.wikimedia.org Biographical information This poem is a folk song created by the Gurage people. They are a people group the lives in southwest Ethiopia . The Gurage invest a lot of time in cultivating their crops so it is a important part of their culture. This poem has no known author but rather is a well known folk song passed from generation to generation. On africanpoems.net  there are a colection of songs like this with similar topics c

Song about the mental clinic I told myself:-- you mustn't write! But stubborn hands will not comply, Oh, help me mother! Friends-- I’m in a fix! I lie in bed -- they grin at me, They might attack me terribly, I’m scared to sleep: they’re noiseless, hopeless freaks. The psychos vary here, and sure, Not all are rowdy, some impure, Receiving treatment -- getting starved and beat, But here is what surprises me: These madmen here are walking free, And all the food that I receive, they simply take and eat. Great Dostoyevsky’s fallen short (Russian Novelist) With the renowned, famous “Notes”! I wish the poor deceased could come and see! The famous Gogol I could tell (Russian Dramatist) Such stories of this life in hell That sure to God, this Gogol would most-boggled be! Can’t stand this! Spit on those baboons, ‘cause after all, they’re rowdy loons! They always aim to lick me on my face! In number seven, yesterday, Some loon, in utter disarr