My tongue is the pen of a ready writer Each word I speak is a masterpiece brighter. Than any stroke of paint or ink so bold, My language flows, and my stories unfold. With each syllable, I paint a scene, Of love, of loss, of places I've seen. My words are my weapons, my armor is very strong, They can comfort, inspire, or sometimes right the wrong. My tongue is my vessel, my thoughts its sail, I navigate through life, and with words, I prevail. I pour my heart out, onto each selected page, My emotions, my thoughts, they never age. Like a pen in hand, my tongue never gets tired, For my passion just push my passioned desires. It knows no bounds, no limits to explore, It is a tool, a weapon, and so much more. So let my tongue be the pen of a ready writer, Through my words, I can be a painter. I'll paint the world in colors of my own, And with my poetry, I'll make them all known.
Oh, grandmother, you raised me from just a little lad, You were the best grandmother I ever had, You gave me hope and you help me along the way, you made my bad days good oh how I hoped you had stayed. But it was time for you to go I know because with your last breath you said so, You’re with God now and keeping my brother's company when its time for me I hope I’ll be ready, Both of you are now free, and sometimes I feel sad but yet I am happy, You are with God your mummy and pappy. I have grown up and in my head, I’m still hearing, "put God in everything you do". Is what you were always saying.