What is my America, what is my USA?
What does it mean to me?
How can you explain, is there a way?
How can I say what is it to be free?
What is America to me?
Freedom, that is the expression
Everything that we were, and all that we will be
It’s the chance to do anything I want
To be able to live and love and be happy
That’s what America is to me.
This is the land where all people are equal
This is the land where all people are free
The place where I can say what I have to say,
Able to choose who I am, and what I want to be.
That’s what America means to me.
Lines Written in Late Spring by caitiedidd, literature
Literature
Lines Written in Late Spring
There had been a thousand blended notes,
When she had lain in the beautiful grove.
She had been content then, maybe even happy,
Her mind filled only with ease, and peace.
That was then, now was now,
Lady Nature had finally conceded defeat,
The long, raging war was over at last.
Now waged a different fight.
Petals had been it’s jewels,
Trailing from earthen floor to leafy roof
Brilliant pink and delicate blue,
Now all the same mundane brown gray.
Birds once sang in that lovely place,
Trilling the hymns of the seasons,
Spring’s new hope, Summer’s heavy heat,
Autumn’s colored leaves, Winter&rsquo
Am I just words?
Or can I find the courage to act
Safe in inactivity
Silent,
Appeasing my conscience with
The notions that others will do it
That I, one, couldn’t make any difference
Voicing thoughts and views
To an empty room
Scared to be seen ill
So I don’t do anything
How can I do what’s right
When I can’t stand
Because I’m scared to fall
Laziness and fear, they hold us back
Conquer all that have no strength
How do we know right from wrong?
And if we find it, what to do
My heart tells me what is right
What is just and what is true
It tells me to fight
It evokes me this to write
Words,
That is all they are
They cannot voice the deepest despair
Nor sing the greatest joy
They are an invention of man
A failed try to express ourselves
An imitation
But then, a few simple utterances
Incorrectly used syllables
Just sounds in truth
Shatter barriers
Communication
In the simplest form
Evoking things that stay with us forever
Silently influencing
Shaping who we are
It binds us in a schedule
Tells us when to sleep
When to eat
When to work
And when to play
Even sometimes, what to say
For some it passes to fast
For others, to slow
While some don’t even know
With nonstop ticking
It holds our lives
In its thrall
Tells the sun when to rise
And when to fall
Never backwards, always forwards
Moving on without a glance
For the past
Leaving us to reminisce
About the times of youthful bliss
A little girl sits on a bike for the first time
With golden pigtails and tears in her eyes
She turns to her father and says, “I can’t”
Her father looks her in the eye and gravely replies, “I know you can,”
Before he lets go and watches her roll down the path
They kneel together in the garden
Both covered in dirt from head to toe
But neither seems to notice
His big hands gently guiding her little ones, covering tiny seeds with the fresh earth
As he teaches her their names and what they'll grow to be
The sunlight glints off slowly moving water
They stand next to the river, their fishing poles lying at their
Memories of a Summer Twilight by caitiedidd, literature
Literature
Memories of a Summer Twilight
Hot and thick, the air stirs
As the summer sun meets the earth
The heavens are lit in vibrant reds and pinks
Softly, ever so softly, the coolness of evening steals in
I sit on the cool grass
As the world darkens
The first, second, then third
Blinking, twinkling stars
Come to life above my head
All is still for a moment and nothing matters
Just the soft silence that rings like a bell
Then, with a soft breath, the night begins