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Half asleep I reach for you and feel your bodies heat You slowly move yourself to me as our hearts begin to beat. I hear you softly whisper and feel your warm embrace with hot anticipation our passion begins to race. I kiss your lips so gently and sense your aching need to give yourself so freely an...
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We move, the wheel must always move, Nor always on the plain, And if we move to such a goal As Wisdom hopes to gain, Then you that drive, and know your craft, Will firmly hold the rein, Nor lend an ear to random cries, Or you may drive in vain; For some cry ‘Quick’ and some cry ‘Sl...
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Now lamp-lit gardens in the blue dusk shine Through dogwood, red and white; And round the gray quadrangles, line by line, The windows fill with light, Where Princeton calls to Magdalen, tower to tower, Twin lanthorns of the law; And those cream-white magnolia boughs embower The halls of "...
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Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenal...
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Not that there’s fog
but nothing is clear
- Neither the stone
nor us
nor the mass of leaves that droops
from not visible trees.
Our feet rest on the black color
beside the golden light
Behind us flows a river:
of it you see a bridge,
of us
the pose of our bodies.
...
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The General came in a new tin hat To the shell-torn front where the war was at; With a faithful Aide at his good right hand He made his way to No Man's Land, And a tough Top Sergeant there they found, And a Captain, too, to show them around. Treading the ditch, their heads bent low, Toward t...
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l'aube vermeil est le seul témoin
au ballet ordinaire du tapement
assoupi des claviers double dans une
harmonie parfaite,
le frolement des pages tournées,
l'éraflure insonore de la plume inspirante
sur le papier crémeux
l'horloge du vestibule son...
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Dawn’s first blush
alone is witness
to the familiar ballet
of hushed tap tapping of dual keyboards
in perfect harmony,
the undertone of turned pages,
the muffled scratching of
inspiration’s pen on creamy paper
The ringing of the hallway clock
signifies the noon h...
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The oldman went to meetin', for the day was bright and fair,
Though his limbs were very totterin', and 'twas hard to travel there,
But he hungered for the Gospel, so he trudged the weary way
On the road so rough and dusty, 'neath the summer's burning ray.
By and by he reached the bui...
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And here in the fading light
I spot the buck off to my right.
I struggle with my sight.
It's just not right.
I have no regrets
that I passed on a shot tonight.
Just respect; and the fact,
I was privileged with the sight.
- Brent Bacon ©
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The mountain and I share a bond:
I sense her joy and pain,
I live beneath her canopy
and feel no need for gain.
Right now upon this very spot
I stand with tear filled eyes.
I'll never hunt from here again
for 'Progress' broke my ties.
The 'Progress' that a man inflicts... ...
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Round the cape of a sudden came the sea,
And the sun looked over the mountain's rim:
And straight was the path of gold for him,
And the need of a world of men for me.
- Robert Browning
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The year's at the spring,
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hill-side's dew-pearl'd;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in His heaven —
All's right with the world!
-Robert Browning
| 288 Hits
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Fear death? — to feel the fog in my throat,
The mist in my face,
When the snows begin, and the blasts denote
I am nearing the place,
The power of the night, the press of the storm,
The post of the foe;
Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form,
Yet the strong man ...
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Sensibility, how charming, Dearest Nancy, thou canst tell; But distress, with horrors arming, Thou alas! hast known too well! Fairest flower, behold the lily Blooming in the sunny ray: Let the blast sweep o'er the valley, See it prostrate in the clay. Hear the wood lark charm the forest, Te...
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We will rape the earth, Strip it for all its worth, Prostitute our bodies For the industrial machine, Sacrifice our minds, Give up our lives, And lay all our timedown At the feet Of our CEO Chief. - Chris Lindsay From "Poetry for The Revolution"
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Wisdom becomes you
the paper crane says,
flaps its origami wings.
You have just finished folding it,
hands poised in midair
when again the words come out,
rustle the tiny beak like a leaf on water.
You clutch the neck and feet,
th...
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Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me; Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings. In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song Betr...
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In the pathway of the sun, In the footsteps of the breeze, Where the world and sky are one, He shall ride the silver seas, He shall cut the glittering wave. I shall sit at home, and rock; Rise, to heed a neighbor's knock; Brew my tea, and snip my thread; Bleach the linen for my bed. They will call h...
| 279 Hits
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Oh, lead me to a quiet cell Where never footfall rankles, And bar the window passing well, And gyve my wrists and ankles. Oh, wrap my eyes with linen fair, With hempen cord go bind me, And, of your mercy, leave me there, Nor tell them where to find me. Oh, lock the portal as you go, And see its bolt...
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Promotion comes to him who sticks Unto his work and never kicks, Who watches neither clock nor sun To tell him when his task is done; Who toils not by a stated chart, Defining to a jot his part, But gladly does a little more Than he's remunerated for. The man, in factory or shop, Who rises quickly t...
| 268 Hits
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Once upon a time I heard That the flying moon was a Phoenix bird; Thus she sails through windy skies, Thus in the willow's arms she lies; Turn to the East or turn to the West In many trees she makes her nest. When she's but a pearly thread Look among birch leaves overhead; When she dies in y...
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It is not heaven: bitter seed Leavens its entrails with despair It is a star where dragons breed: Devils have a footing there. The sky has bent it out of shape; The sun has strapped it to his wheel; Its course is crooked to escape Traps and gins of stone and steel. It balances on air, and spin...
| 269 Hits
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Poets make pets of pretty, docile words: I love smooth words, like gold-enamelled fish Which circle slowly with a silken swish, And tender ones, like downy-feathered birds: Words shy and dappled, deep-eyed deer in herds, Come to my hand, and playful if I wish, Or purring softly at a silver dish, Blu...
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Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there were
A day when it was not.
It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain.
©Emily Dickinson
| 263 Hits
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