I must admit I don't have a favourite, but there are some works that have influenced my own throughout the years.
Thomas Carew is amongst the greatest IMO. A couple of examples...
BOLDNESS IN LOVE.
MARK how the bashful morn in vain
Courts the amorous marigold,
With sighing blasts and weeping rain,
Yet she refuses to unfold.
But when the planet of the day
Approacheth with his powerful ray,
The she spreads, then she receives
His warmer beams into her virgin leaves.
So shalt thou thrive in love, fond boy ;
If thy tears and sighs discover
Thy grief, thou never shalt enjoy
The just reward of a bold lover.
But when with moving accents thou
Shalt constant faith and service vow,
Thy Celia shall receive those charms
With open ears, and with unfolded arms
Another classic:
ETERNITY OF LOVE PROTESTED.
HOW ill doth he deserve a lover's name
Whose pale weak flame
Cannot retain
His heat, in spite of absence or disdain ;
But doth at once, like paper set on fire
Burn and expire !
True love can never change his seat,
Nor did he ever love that could retreat.
That noble flame, which my breast keeps alive,
Shall still survive
When my soul's fled ;
Nor shall my love die, when my body's dead ;
That shall wait on me to the lower shade,
And never fade :
My very ashes in their urn
Shall, like a hallow'd lamp, for ever burn.
Anyone have any favourites?
Favourite Poetry
Favourite Poetry
Cartoon Law III
Any body passing through solid matter will leave a perforation conforming to its perimeter. Also called the silhouette of passage, this phenomenon is the speciality of victims of directed-pressure explosions and of reckless cowards who are so eager to escape that they exit directly through the wall of a house, leaving a cookie-cutout-perfect hole. The threat of skunks or matrimony often catalyzes this reaction.
Any body passing through solid matter will leave a perforation conforming to its perimeter. Also called the silhouette of passage, this phenomenon is the speciality of victims of directed-pressure explosions and of reckless cowards who are so eager to escape that they exit directly through the wall of a house, leaving a cookie-cutout-perfect hole. The threat of skunks or matrimony often catalyzes this reaction.
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And sonnest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more. Death, thou shalt die.
~John Donne
[ 07-03-2001: Message edited by: loner72 ]
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And sonnest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more. Death, thou shalt die.
~John Donne
[ 07-03-2001: Message edited by: loner72 ]
Geeze, Loner, no wonder your a cynic! 
Weasel: LMFAO!
Weasel: LMFAO!
Cartoon Law III
Any body passing through solid matter will leave a perforation conforming to its perimeter. Also called the silhouette of passage, this phenomenon is the speciality of victims of directed-pressure explosions and of reckless cowards who are so eager to escape that they exit directly through the wall of a house, leaving a cookie-cutout-perfect hole. The threat of skunks or matrimony often catalyzes this reaction.
Any body passing through solid matter will leave a perforation conforming to its perimeter. Also called the silhouette of passage, this phenomenon is the speciality of victims of directed-pressure explosions and of reckless cowards who are so eager to escape that they exit directly through the wall of a house, leaving a cookie-cutout-perfect hole. The threat of skunks or matrimony often catalyzes this reaction.
BTW everyone, did you know that practically any Emily D i c kinson poem can be sung to the tune of "The Yellow Rose of Texas"? It's true. Try this one:
To fight aloud is very brave,
But gallanter, I know.
Who charge within the bosom
The cavalry of woe.
Who win, and nations do not see,
Who fall, and none observe,
Whose dying eyes no country
Regards with patriot love...
To fight aloud is very brave,
But gallanter, I know.
Who charge within the bosom
The cavalry of woe.
Who win, and nations do not see,
Who fall, and none observe,
Whose dying eyes no country
Regards with patriot love...
@Veh: That poem isn't cynical, it's hopeful. It holds out hope that death is not the end. That the soul goes on.
You want cynical? Here's Emily again:
I cannot live with you,
It would be life.
And life is over there
Behind the shelf
The sexton keeps the key to,
Putting up
Our life, his porcelain,
Like a cup
Discarded of the housewife,
Quaint or broken;
A newer Sevres pleases,
Old ones crack.
I cannot die with you,
For one must wait
To shut the other's gaze down, --
You could not.
And I, could I stand by
And see you freeze,
Without my right of frost,
Death's privilege?
Nor could I rise with you,
Because your face
Would put out Jesus',
That new grace
Glow plain and foreign
On my homesick eye,
Except that you, than he
Stood closer by.
They'd judge us -- how?
For you served Heaven, you know,
Or sought to;
I could not;
Because you saturated sight,
And I had no more eyes
For sordid excellence
As Paradise.
And were you lost, I would be,
Though my name
Rang loudest
On the heavenly fame.
And were you saved,
Adn I condemned to be
Where you were not,
That self were hell to me.
So we must keep apart,
You there, I here,
With just the door ajar
That oceans are,
and prayer,
And that pale sustenance,
Despair.
[ 07-03-2001: Message edited by: loner72 ]
You want cynical? Here's Emily again:
I cannot live with you,
It would be life.
And life is over there
Behind the shelf
The sexton keeps the key to,
Putting up
Our life, his porcelain,
Like a cup
Discarded of the housewife,
Quaint or broken;
A newer Sevres pleases,
Old ones crack.
I cannot die with you,
For one must wait
To shut the other's gaze down, --
You could not.
And I, could I stand by
And see you freeze,
Without my right of frost,
Death's privilege?
Nor could I rise with you,
Because your face
Would put out Jesus',
That new grace
Glow plain and foreign
On my homesick eye,
Except that you, than he
Stood closer by.
They'd judge us -- how?
For you served Heaven, you know,
Or sought to;
I could not;
Because you saturated sight,
And I had no more eyes
For sordid excellence
As Paradise.
And were you lost, I would be,
Though my name
Rang loudest
On the heavenly fame.
And were you saved,
Adn I condemned to be
Where you were not,
That self were hell to me.
So we must keep apart,
You there, I here,
With just the door ajar
That oceans are,
and prayer,
And that pale sustenance,
Despair.
[ 07-03-2001: Message edited by: loner72 ]
I prefer something else, like this one:
RED AND WHITE ROSES.
READ in these roses the sad story
Of my hard fate and your own glory.
In the white you may discover
The paleness of a fainting lover ;
In the red the flames still feeding
On my heart, with fresh wounds bleeding.
The white will tell you how I languish,
And the red express my anguish ;
The white my innocence displaying,
The red my martyrdom betraying.
The frowns that on your brow resided,
Have those roses thus divided.
Oh ! let your smiles but clear the weather,
And then they both shall grow together.
RED AND WHITE ROSES.
READ in these roses the sad story
Of my hard fate and your own glory.
In the white you may discover
The paleness of a fainting lover ;
In the red the flames still feeding
On my heart, with fresh wounds bleeding.
The white will tell you how I languish,
And the red express my anguish ;
The white my innocence displaying,
The red my martyrdom betraying.
The frowns that on your brow resided,
Have those roses thus divided.
Oh ! let your smiles but clear the weather,
And then they both shall grow together.
Cartoon Law III
Any body passing through solid matter will leave a perforation conforming to its perimeter. Also called the silhouette of passage, this phenomenon is the speciality of victims of directed-pressure explosions and of reckless cowards who are so eager to escape that they exit directly through the wall of a house, leaving a cookie-cutout-perfect hole. The threat of skunks or matrimony often catalyzes this reaction.
Any body passing through solid matter will leave a perforation conforming to its perimeter. Also called the silhouette of passage, this phenomenon is the speciality of victims of directed-pressure explosions and of reckless cowards who are so eager to escape that they exit directly through the wall of a house, leaving a cookie-cutout-perfect hole. The threat of skunks or matrimony often catalyzes this reaction.
-
Yshania
- Posts: 8572
- Joined: Wed May 09, 2001 10:00 pm
- Location: Some Girls Wander By Mistake
- Contact:
A couple of modern parodies of ye olde favourite Desiderata...
Deteriorata - written by Tony Hendra.
Go placidly amid the noise and the waste and remember what comfort there may be in owning a piece thereof.
Avoid quiet & passive persons unless you are in need of sleep. Rotate your tires. Speak glowingly of those greater than yourself & heed well their advice, even though they be turkeys; know what to kiss & when.
Consider that two wrongs never make a right, but that three do. Wherever possible, put people on hold. Be comforted that in the face of all aridity & disillusionment & despite the changing fortunes of time, there is always a big future in computer maintenance. Remember the Pueblo. Strive at all times to bend, fold, spindle & mutilate.
Know yourself; if you need help, call the FBI. Exercise caution in your daily affairs, especially with those persons closest to you -- that lemon on your left, for instance. Be assured that a walk through the ocean of most souls would scarcely get your feet wet. Fall not in love therefore; it will stick to your face.
Gracefully surrender the things of youth, birds, clean air, tuna, Taiwan; & let not the sands of time get in your lunch. Hire people with hooks. For a good time, call 555-4311; ask for Ken. Take heart amid the deepening gloom that your dog is finally getting enough cheese; & reflect that whatever misfortune may be your lot, it could only be worse in Milwaukee.
You are a fluke of the universe; you have no right to be here, & whether you can hear it or not, the universe is laughing behind your back.
Therefore make peace with your God whatever you conceive Him to be -- Hairy Thunderer or Cosmic Muffin.
With all its hopes, dreams, promises, & urban renewal, the world continues to deteriorate. Give up.
Desiderata in the 23rd Century - The Star Wars Version
Go boldly across the void of space, and remember what peace there may be in its silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all lifeforms. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even silicon-based sentients; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive Klingons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare your species with others, you may become vain and bitter; for there will be wiser and stupider beings than yourself. If your rank is below lieutenant, never volunteer for landing parties.
Keep interested in your Star Fleet career, however humble; it is unlikely that you will ever get a civilian job with your training as a phaser technician.
Exercise caution in your business affairs; for tribbles are not the bargain they seem. But let this not blind you to good buys available at Orion slave auctions.
Be yourself. Especially, do not wear fake Vulcan ears; others will not think that you look more intellectual. Neither be despondent about love; for in the face of all the alienness and weirdness of the galaxy a scantily-clad beauty will always appear.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth; but if, in the full flush of your youth you suddenly find yourself becoming noticeably more senile by the minute, something is dreadfully wrong.
Maintain your defensive screens to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of noncorporeal entities who use them as between-meal snacks. Beyond a wholesome military discipline, be gentle with yourself; stay away from Minaran leather bars.
You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. As long as "here" is the correct side of the Organian Neutral Zone.
Therefore be at peace with Landru, whatever you conceive Vaal to be, for whatever your labors and accomplishments, in the noisy confusion of commercial broadcasting you can always be cancelled.
With all its sham, mimicry and wandering moons, it is still a beautiful universe. Be careful. Live long and prosper
Copyright 1976 by Art Canfil
Deteriorata - written by Tony Hendra.
Go placidly amid the noise and the waste and remember what comfort there may be in owning a piece thereof.
Avoid quiet & passive persons unless you are in need of sleep. Rotate your tires. Speak glowingly of those greater than yourself & heed well their advice, even though they be turkeys; know what to kiss & when.
Consider that two wrongs never make a right, but that three do. Wherever possible, put people on hold. Be comforted that in the face of all aridity & disillusionment & despite the changing fortunes of time, there is always a big future in computer maintenance. Remember the Pueblo. Strive at all times to bend, fold, spindle & mutilate.
Know yourself; if you need help, call the FBI. Exercise caution in your daily affairs, especially with those persons closest to you -- that lemon on your left, for instance. Be assured that a walk through the ocean of most souls would scarcely get your feet wet. Fall not in love therefore; it will stick to your face.
Gracefully surrender the things of youth, birds, clean air, tuna, Taiwan; & let not the sands of time get in your lunch. Hire people with hooks. For a good time, call 555-4311; ask for Ken. Take heart amid the deepening gloom that your dog is finally getting enough cheese; & reflect that whatever misfortune may be your lot, it could only be worse in Milwaukee.
You are a fluke of the universe; you have no right to be here, & whether you can hear it or not, the universe is laughing behind your back.
Therefore make peace with your God whatever you conceive Him to be -- Hairy Thunderer or Cosmic Muffin.
With all its hopes, dreams, promises, & urban renewal, the world continues to deteriorate. Give up.
Desiderata in the 23rd Century - The Star Wars Version
Go boldly across the void of space, and remember what peace there may be in its silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all lifeforms. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even silicon-based sentients; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive Klingons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare your species with others, you may become vain and bitter; for there will be wiser and stupider beings than yourself. If your rank is below lieutenant, never volunteer for landing parties.
Keep interested in your Star Fleet career, however humble; it is unlikely that you will ever get a civilian job with your training as a phaser technician.
Exercise caution in your business affairs; for tribbles are not the bargain they seem. But let this not blind you to good buys available at Orion slave auctions.
Be yourself. Especially, do not wear fake Vulcan ears; others will not think that you look more intellectual. Neither be despondent about love; for in the face of all the alienness and weirdness of the galaxy a scantily-clad beauty will always appear.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth; but if, in the full flush of your youth you suddenly find yourself becoming noticeably more senile by the minute, something is dreadfully wrong.
Maintain your defensive screens to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of noncorporeal entities who use them as between-meal snacks. Beyond a wholesome military discipline, be gentle with yourself; stay away from Minaran leather bars.
You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. As long as "here" is the correct side of the Organian Neutral Zone.
Therefore be at peace with Landru, whatever you conceive Vaal to be, for whatever your labors and accomplishments, in the noisy confusion of commercial broadcasting you can always be cancelled.
With all its sham, mimicry and wandering moons, it is still a beautiful universe. Be careful. Live long and prosper
Copyright 1976 by Art Canfil
Parachute for sale, like new! Never opened!
Guinness, black goes with everything.
Guinness, black goes with everything.
i have quite a few but is my favorite poetess
emily bronte
no coward soul is mine
no trembler in the world's storm-troubled shere
i see heaven's glories shine
and faith shines equal arming me from fear
o god within my breast
almighty ever-present diety
life, that in me hast rest
as i undying life, have power in thee
vain are the thousand creeds
that move men's hearts, unutterably vain,
worthless as withered weeds
or idlest froth amid the boundles main
to waken doubt in one
holding fast by thy infinity
so surely anchored on
the steadfast rock of immortality
with wide-embracing love
thy spirit animates eternal years
prevades and broods above,
changes, sustains, dissolves, creates and rears
though the earth and moon were gone
a suns and universes ceased to be
and thou wert left alone
every existence would live in thee
there is not room for death
nor atom that his might could render void
since thou art being and breath
and what thou art may never be destroyed.
emily bronte
no coward soul is mine
no trembler in the world's storm-troubled shere
i see heaven's glories shine
and faith shines equal arming me from fear
o god within my breast
almighty ever-present diety
life, that in me hast rest
as i undying life, have power in thee
vain are the thousand creeds
that move men's hearts, unutterably vain,
worthless as withered weeds
or idlest froth amid the boundles main
to waken doubt in one
holding fast by thy infinity
so surely anchored on
the steadfast rock of immortality
with wide-embracing love
thy spirit animates eternal years
prevades and broods above,
changes, sustains, dissolves, creates and rears
though the earth and moon were gone
a suns and universes ceased to be
and thou wert left alone
every existence would live in thee
there is not room for death
nor atom that his might could render void
since thou art being and breath
and what thou art may never be destroyed.
sleep takes a vacation when baby is in the house.
For me it doesn't get any better then Robert Frost. The Road Not Taken is my personal favorite poem, and something of a theme to my life.
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
[ 07-03-2001: Message edited by: Kayless ]
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
[ 07-03-2001: Message edited by: Kayless ]
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
-
fable
- Posts: 30676
- Joined: Wed Mar 14, 2001 12:00 pm
- Location: The sun, the moon, and the stars.
- Contact:
One of my two faves is The Second Coming, by Yeats:
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Here's my other fave, by Gerald Manley Hopkins, called To a Young Child:
Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
[ 07-04-2001: Message edited by: fable ]
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Here's my other fave, by Gerald Manley Hopkins, called To a Young Child:
Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
[ 07-04-2001: Message edited by: fable ]
To the Righteous belong the fruits of violent victory. The rest of us will have to settle for warm friends, warm lovers, and a wink from a quietly supportive universe.
-
fable
- Posts: 30676
- Joined: Wed Mar 14, 2001 12:00 pm
- Location: The sun, the moon, and the stars.
- Contact:
Hey, doesn't anybody else read and enjoy poetry? Come on! Just because we stare at the various sexual parts of the opposite sex doesn't mean we can't have sensitive moments--perhaps one at the age of 15, perhaps another for five seconds at the age of 38...
Let's hear from you!
Let's hear from you!
To the Righteous belong the fruits of violent victory. The rest of us will have to settle for warm friends, warm lovers, and a wink from a quietly supportive universe.
I like TS Eliot..Portrait of a Lady, and the Love Song Of J Alfred Prufrock come to mind.
I like Sydney Laniers The Symphony (All of these are far too long to post)
I like Sydney Laniers The Symphony
(All of these are far too long to post)[url="http://www.gamebanshee.com"]GameBanshee[/url] Make your gaming scream!
"I have seen them/I have watched them all fall/I have been them/I have watched myself crawl"
"I will only complicate you/Trust in me and fall as well"
"Quiet time...no more whine"
"I have seen them/I have watched them all fall/I have been them/I have watched myself crawl"
"I will only complicate you/Trust in me and fall as well"
"Quiet time...no more whine"
Fable, I have actually enjoyed Yeats as well.
I like poetry which can be memorized, which sounds silly, but poetry really is an oral tradition, to be read yes...but to be spoken from the heart aloud...
Hmm..but a favorite..there are so many, I would have to think on that. Should I choose Shakespeare or the Grateful Dead?? Choices...
I like poetry which can be memorized, which sounds silly, but poetry really is an oral tradition, to be read yes...but to be spoken from the heart aloud...
Hmm..but a favorite..there are so many, I would have to think on that. Should I choose Shakespeare or the Grateful Dead?? Choices...
@ Georgi I like anything by Eliot "April is the cruelest month"
I also like tennyson, Kipling Amy Lowell and lots of others
"April is the cruelest month" I also like tennyson, Kipling Amy Lowell and lots of others
[url="http://www.gamebanshee.com"]GameBanshee[/url] Make your gaming scream!
"I have seen them/I have watched them all fall/I have been them/I have watched myself crawl"
"I will only complicate you/Trust in me and fall as well"
"Quiet time...no more whine"
"I have seen them/I have watched them all fall/I have been them/I have watched myself crawl"
"I will only complicate you/Trust in me and fall as well"
"Quiet time...no more whine"
Grace came one
it had no face or hands
it was beyond father and mother
a door of gold
molten without heat
melting and holding
like a swimming eye
taking my measure, my burden
holding above me like an inverse shadow
a membrane that never hardened
I knew whatever I was
would rise and be taken
I did not have to answer with Abraham
"Here I am"
Before words could form
the moment answering grace
wells up brimming on the verge
I was lightened
I did not have to sharpen
my knife on the alter
or kneel on cold stone
like a penitent child
What was it I answered
to my cool garden shadow
to my low heaven
I was fire and I did not burn
I was flower but did not die
I was smoke rising
carrying the names
of all who have loved me
Miriam Levine
it had no face or hands
it was beyond father and mother
a door of gold
molten without heat
melting and holding
like a swimming eye
taking my measure, my burden
holding above me like an inverse shadow
a membrane that never hardened
I knew whatever I was
would rise and be taken
I did not have to answer with Abraham
"Here I am"
Before words could form
the moment answering grace
wells up brimming on the verge
I was lightened
I did not have to sharpen
my knife on the alter
or kneel on cold stone
like a penitent child
What was it I answered
to my cool garden shadow
to my low heaven
I was fire and I did not burn
I was flower but did not die
I was smoke rising
carrying the names
of all who have loved me
Miriam Levine
Those who will play with kitties must expect to be scratched.
Many are cold; few are frozen.
Absence is to love what wind is to fire... it extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great.
Many are cold; few are frozen.
Absence is to love what wind is to fire... it extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great.
