|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains the hottest blood of all, and the wildest, the most urgent. All the whales in the wider deeps, hot are they, as they urge on and on, and dive beneath the icebergs. The right whales, the...
|
|
Ah! my heart is weary waiting,
Waiting for the May —Â
Waiting for the pleasant rambles,
Where the fragrant hawthorn brambles,
With the woodbine alternating,
Scent the dewy way.
Ah! my heart is weary waiting,
Waiting for the...
|
|
What is it that happens
When a young child dies?
"Is it God's wrath?"
You can hear Parents cry.
"Why is God doing this to us?"
You can hear Dad and Mum,
"Are we being punished?
For things that we have...
|
|
We'll be true to each other, though Fate has now parted Two spirits that yearn with devotion and love; We will show the hard world that we both are strong-hearted, And the wings of the eagle shall nestle our dove. They say thou art young, and that I...
|
|
Why didn't God give to me the knack of writing poetry? Of all the things possessed by man, I envy most the gifted hand That guided by a rhyming mind, can scribe out passion line by line. It's not I am a man...
|
|
"How much do babies cost?" said he
The other night upon my knee;
And then I said: "They cost a lot;
A lot of watching by a cot,
A lot of sleepless hours and care,
A lot of heart-ache and despair,
A lot of fear and...
|
|
When you get to know a fellow, know his joys and know his cares, When you've come to understand him and the burdens that he bears, When you've learned the fight he's making and the troubles in his way, Then you find that he is different than you...
|
|
What I see in the night: I
see blackness approaching, evil,
roofs collapsing, torn,
amputated. Much like my friends.
I call to my friends:
Put your hands over your heads.
Like leaves sprouting hands.
I sew crude sutures,
to my...
|
|
Oh, every year hath its winter, And every year hath its rain But a day is always coming When the birds go North again. When new leaves swell in the forest, And grass springs green on the plain, And the alder's veins turn crimson And the...
|
|
Wild Nights — Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile — the Winds —
To a Heart in port —
Done with the Compass —
Done with the Chart!
Rowing in Eden —...
|
|
"Which shall it be? Which shall it be?"
I look'd at John - John look'd at me
(Dear, patient John, who loves me yet
As well as though my locks were jet);
And when I found that I must speak,
My voice seem'd...
|
|
Woodman, spare that tree! Touch not a single bough! In youth it sheltered me, And I'll protect it now. 'Twas my forefather's hand That placed it near his cot; There, woodman, let it stand, Thy axe shall harm it not! That old familiar tree, ...
|
|
When can I find you and where
Will you portray short or long hair?
Will you be eating beans?
And wearing underwear
Or ought I look the other way
Where did you go and did you enjoy it
Or was it as bad as a dim wit
Did you...
|
|
Let me but do my work from day to day, In field or forest, at the desk or loom, In roaring market-place or tranquil room; Let me but find it in my heart to say, When vagrant wishes beckon me astray, “ This is my work; my blessing, not my...
|
|
Medals Flashing In The Sun
Reminders 0f Past Deeds Done.
Pinned In Rows On A Chest
For Love 0f County He Did His Best.
Now White-Haired And Wrinkled Face
In Legion Garb He Stands In Place
Recalling Memories 0f His Youth
He And...
|
|
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens,
And the rooster's hallylooyer...
|
|
I am hollow with petals of August.
My thoughts form deadened fields, even
before the sun is opened full.
The air hangs humid, in tarry slabs.
Bricks of heat are savage
against backs, across faces,
While garden plants lie...
|
|
waking
from a dream into a dream
moonlost
sun,
sunflower
and
every
thing
between
[both from NOON; journal of the short poem 02]
© Jason Sanford Brown
|
|
And what is Life? An hour-glass on the run,
A mist retreating from the morning sun,
A busy, bustling, still-repeated dream.
Its length? A minute's pause, a moment's thought.
And Happiness? A bubble on the stream,
That in the act of...
|
|
When I have fears that I may cease to be
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high piled books, in charact'ry,
Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain;
When I...
|
|
Awoke to the winter wonderment
How quickly the rain can change
Fluff gently falling crossways
Snuggling once reaching the earth
The dull cast is brightened
By the crystalline reflection
Ahhh, to be able to enjoy the bliss
Yet...
|
|
No wishes, no want, no will
Floating on the sea of surrender
Watching the birds soar above
Feeling the water roll below
Embracing the suns warmth
Gloriously detached from self
No wishes, no want, no will
Yearning for the souls...
|
|
As I sit with cluttered thoughts in my mind, I ponder lives of loves left behind, But through the muck, the brightest of lights shines, And the dust settles on days of our times. It's so hard to let go of your perfect dream, To simply part with...
|
|
When we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss; Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this. The dew of the morning Sunk chill on my brow...
|
|
When I was an embryo, wrinkled and wet, God knew I would need all the help I could get. In His infinite wisdom, He knew you would be The world's only mother who'd put up with me. As you proudly bedecked me in ruffles and curls, I took it for...
|
|
Powered by AlphaContent 3.0.4 © 2005-2008 - All rights reserved
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
"What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies." ~ Aristotle
|
|