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| | Ships |  |  | | Wednesday, September 3, 2008 (9:58 AM) |  | Ships
In my Sky, there are Ships
shimmering, dancing, wasting away
golden Hulls with red lips,
silent but solid, fading astray
In my Sky, there are Lives
coming, going, and leaving their Mark
few remain can claim "tried"
instead exit with the Face of "farce"
In my Sky, there is yours,
for where You for me, and I for You
a landscape and some tours
of what we needed and what we knew |  |  | 17 Views | 0 Thumbs Up | 0 Comments |  |
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| | When I have Fears That Cease To Be.. |  |  | Friday, August 22, 2008 (9:25 AM) (I'm feeling amused) |  | When I have Fears That Cease To Be
by J.Keats
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 behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And feel that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;—then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think,
Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink |  |  | 31 Views | 0 Thumbs Up | 2 Comments |  |
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| | Fred...... |  |  | Friday, August 15, 2008 (11:52 PM) (I'm feeling sleepy) |  |
As soon as Fred gets out of bed,
his underwear goes on his head.
His mother laughs, "Don't put it there,
a head's no place for underwear!"
But near his ears, above his brains,
is where Fred's underwear remains.
At night when Fred goes back to bed,
he deftly plucks it off his head.
His mother switches off the light
and softly croons, "Good night! Good night!"
And then, for reasons no one knows,
Fred's underwear goes on his toes. |  |  | 25 Views | 0 Thumbs Up | 0 Comments |  |
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| | Another Poem I found..... I Knew a Woman |  |  | | Wednesday, August 13, 2008 (6:14 PM) |  |
I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;
Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one:
The shapes a bright container can contain!
Of her choice virtues only gods should speak,
Or English poets who grew up on Greek
(I'd have them sing in a chorus, cheek to cheek).
How well her wishes went! She stroked my chin,
She taught me Turn, and Counter-turn, and Stand;
She taught me Touch, that undulant white skin;
I nibbled meekly from her proferred hand;
She was the sickle; I, poor I, the rake,
Coming behind her for her pretty sake
(But what prodigious mowing we did make).
Love likes a gander, and adores a goose:
Her full lips pursed, the errant notes to sieze;
She played it quick, she played it light and loose;
My eyes, they dazzled at her flowing knees;
Her several parts could keep a pure repose,
Or one hip quiver with a mobile nose
(She moved in circles, and those circles moved).
Let seed be grass, and grass turn into hay:
I'm martyr to a motion not my own;
What's freedom for? To know eternity.
I swear she cast a shadow white as stone.
But who would count eternity in days?
These old bones live to learn her wanton ways:
(I measure time by how a body sways).
By Theodore Roethke |  |  | 24 Views | 2 Thumbs Up | 2 Comments |  |
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| | Shoulders Support The World |  |  | | Monday, August 11, 2008 (4:37 PM) |  | Shoulders Support The World
There comes a time when we no longer say: my God.
A time of absolute purity.
A time when we no longer say: my love.
Because love proved useless.
And eyes don’t cry.
And hands only weave in rough work.
And the heart is dry.
Women knock at the door in vain, don’t open it.
You stay alone, the light goes out,
and in the dark your eyes glow enormous.
You’re convinced, you no longer know suffering.
And you expect nothing from friends.
Old age matters little, what is old age?
Your shoulders support the world
and it weighs no more than a child’s hand.
The wars, famines, and talks in buildings
only prove that life goes on
and not all have freed themselves yet.
Some, finding the spectacle barbarous,
prefer (the delicates) to die.
There comes a time when there’s no point in dying.
There comes a time when life is an order.
Merely life, without perplexity.
by Carlos Drummond de Andrade |  |  | 23 Views | 0 Thumbs Up | 0 Comments |  |
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| | Something I found on the interwebs......A masked girl... |  |  | Sunday, August 10, 2008 (12:35 PM) (I'm feeling bored) |  | A masked girl
I saw a silent girl, who stood in the corner of the schoolyard, a mask covering her face,
I wondered who she was, what her story was, all I could see was her deep black eyes,
Everyone ignored her all day, except for some who decided to offend her with taunts, and jeers,
And often when I looked at her, those deep black eyes, where stained with clear tears,
When I was in the yard chating to my friends and girls, the corner of my eye would catch her staring at me,
I wondered what she was thinking, maybe she had seen me watching her before, maybe she thought me rude,
There was something amazing in those deep black eyes that drew me in, something curious, I wanted to see
What lay under that mask, what she hid, she was so much more interesting than these other girls to me,
Maybe what she hid was not her face, but more her feelings, her thoughts, her life,
She had obviously suffered harshness, cruelty of some kind, to have to hide so clearly,
I have also suffered, I have also felt pain, maybe this is what drew me in, experience of strife,
She stood there, alone, masked, cold, I sat here surrounded by friends, surrounded by life,
I made my mind up, on that day to go meet her, to find out what lay under that mask,
I stood up, the other girls stopped, and asked me where i was going, i said "to see her",
They watched me walk away, my strides firm and confident, it was so easy to leave them,
I lent back on the wall she was standing by, she turned her face to me, her mask,
I turned my face towards her, I said "hi", she stared back utterly shocked, then finally she replied "hi",
After a while I ventured further, "What's your name?" i asked, 'that's nothing that matters' she replied,
"ok" i said..."I'm robert",... "why did you come here?" she asked, 'to meet you' i said, "yes, but why?"
She took a step closer, her eyes fixed on me, I looked away, unsure what to do, wether to stay or go, "I just wanted to meet you"
"please don't go" she said, "I won't" i replied, she moved even closer, there were only a few feet between us now,
"Why do you not judge?" she asked, "i am masked, don't you see?", "that is no reason to judge" i said,
"but you are popular, i am not" she said "that is no reason either" i replied....she moved nearer, "please don't go" she repeated,
she took my hand, she held it for a moment, then she moved it up to her mask, she said "take it off"
"are you sure?" i asked"yes" she whispered, i gently pulled it from her face,
I gasped, she was incredible, her beauty, "heck, ur pretty" i said,
"thankyou" she uttered "so why did you mask yourself? you are way better looking than any girl in the school"
"i was ashamed" she muttered, i was confused"ashamed of your beauty? but why?" i asked, "people judge me on it, they don't see who i really am"
"the face is a mask, so i mask my face" she explained,...i was astounded,"please don't ever mask yourself again, on your outside or in" i said,
"Ok" she replied and she smiled "I won't, as I have found what I was looking for, a true friend, someone who found me when i was alone, masked"
She moved to my side, lay back on the wall, reached down to hold my hand, and ha you should have seen the faces of those other girls,
Hilarious, we both laughed,and it rang loud out across the yard, everyone turned around to watch us, she turned to me, tears of laughter in her eyes, and said "thankyou".
Created by Hedd |  |  | 23 Views | 0 Thumbs Up | 0 Comments |  |
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| | Midsummer Nights |  |  | Friday, August 8, 2008 (9:32 PM) (I'm feeling tired) |  | Midsummer Nights
Long walks while having young talks
about absolutely nothing
that matters, but something
kept us walking.
Midsummer nights glazed,
while music plays
songs that don't exist
except in our minds,
love melodies of all kinds
kept us walking.
Turning right to, oh, what a sight
to see, to feel, to share
with the one who would dare
to keep walking
and talking about nothing
our minds free as doves
who are just as pure
as the love,
that kept us walking.
Tameka Vasquez
|  |  | 23 Views | 0 Thumbs Up | 0 Comments |  |
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