If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda

I want you to know one thing. You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me. Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly you forget me do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad, the wind of banners that passes through my life, and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots, remember that on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms and my roots will set off to seek another land.
But if each day, each hour, you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness, if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me, ah my love, ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, my love feeds on your love, beloved, and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine

O, Mother Earth by Ernesto P. Santiago

O, Mother Earth, O, Mother Earth, you’re so rich, with butterflies’ songs and full of olden lullabies, sung by mountains and valleys while rivers keep flowing through the ever-changing seasons of life. Youspeak the language I hardly know, but your silver touch sends me a tingle, that great joy and laughter bejewel the lake of green. Your yellow orb scattered sparkly gems on the blue water of a mesmerizing sea; as for your majestic sky, it wraps, gently, its arm around me whilst I gaze, at-night, at the stars. O,Mother Earth, take me to the fortress, where kings and queens meet and teach me… the graceful dance of the wind.

If Only by R. de Joye
If only the stars would shine again, I mean, if ifs would all come true, there wouldn't be need for ifs any more.
We love ifs, if if would turn into a non-existent if, what would we sprinkle into our litanies of regrets?
Ifs turn into an endless parade of self-pity, self-denial, ultimately crowning all our remaining days with sorrow.
Better check the ifs at the door, along with the predjudices, the irritations, better leave ifs to stale cold coffee.
The stars are all ifs, and the night sky is life. The moon is not God, but the moon gathers all the ifs of the stars. If if would become a when, and when when becomes a certainty, remember that we chose all that would happen in our lives.
I know why the caged bird sings by Maya Angelou
A free bird leaps on the back Of the wind and floats downstream Till the current ends and dips his wing In the orange suns rays
But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright Lawn and he names the sky his own.
But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.The caged bird sings with A fearful trill of things unknown But longed for still and his Tune is heard on the distant hill For the caged bird sings of freedom. Who Am I by Brian Joseph Sy Who am I to blindly believe that I can become parcel of this sacred ground? To pretend that I am a strong wind to guide your ever sturdy wings Who am I to change this persistent blue rain? To pretend that I can wash the sorrows away from your ever beating heart Who am I to care for this mortified soul? To pretend that sanctity ascends in my figureless touch… I am none. Transcending only the littlest of existence only meager eyes could see. In the skies I plead alms to catch your merciful grace; To rescue me from this lonesome cloud of misery that I call self

Friendship Vener Santos Days will pass, And things will grow old. Flowers will bloom, And soon will decay. But when friendship starts, All of the year it will remain fresh.

Friends will grow old, But friendship will never. As long as we both care, It will remain young forever. Death will separate it on earth, But it will reborn in heaven.