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Elysium [The Heist]

Cast: Sharlto Copley, Matt Damon, Diego Luna

clip from Elysium, directed by Neill Blomkamp, screenplay by Neill Blomkamp (2013)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Sicilian Idyll

(First Scene) Damon
I thank thee, no;
Already have I drunk a bowl of wine . . .
Nay, nay, why wouldst thou rise?
There rolls thy ball of worsted! Sit thee down;
Come, sit thee down, Cydilla,
And let me fetch thy ball, rewind the wool,
And tell thee all that happened yesterday.

Cydilla
Thanks, Damon; now, by Zeus, thou art so brisk,
It shames me that to stoop should try my bones.

Damon
We both are old,
And if we may have peaceful days are blessed;
Few hours of bouyancy will come to break
The sure withdrawal from us of life's flood.

Cydilla
True, true, youth looks a great way off! To think
It wonce was age did lie quite out of sight!

Damon
Not many days have been so beautiful
As yesterday, Cydilla; yet one was;
And I with thee broke tranced on its fine spell;
Thou dost remember? Yes? but not with tears,
Ah, not with tears, Cydilla, pray, oh, pray!

Cydilla
Pardon me, Damon,
'Tis many years since thou hast touched thereon;
And something stirs about thee -
Such air of eagerness as was thine when
I was more foolish than in my life, I hope
To ever have been at another time.

Damon
Pooh! foolish? - thou wast then so very wise
That, often having seen thee foolish since,
Wonder has made me faint that thou shouldst err.

Cydilla
Nay, then I erred, dear Damon; and remorse
Was not so slow to find me as thou deemst.

Damon
There, mop those dear wet eyes, or thou'lt ne'er hear
What it was filled my heart yesterday.

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Sturge Moore
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The Progress of Taste, or the Fate of Delicacy

Part first.

Perhaps some cloud eclipsed the day,
When thus I tuned my pensive lay:
The ship is launch'd-we catch the gale-
On life's extended ocean sail:
For happiness our course we bend,
Our ardent cry, our general end!
Yet, ah! the scenes which tempt our care
Are, like the forms dispersed in air,
Still dancing near disorder'd eyes,
And weakest his who best descries!'
Yet let me not my birthright barter,
(For wishing is the poet's charter;
All bards have leave to wish what's wanted,
Though few e'er found their wishes granted;
Extensive field! where poets pride them
In singing all that is denied them).
For humble ease, ye Powers! I pray;
That plain warm suit for every day,
And pleasure and brocade, bestow,
To flaunt it-once a month, or so.
The first for constant wear we want;
The first, ye Powers! for ever grant;
But constant wear the last bespatters,
And turns the tissue into tatters.
Where'er my vagrant course I bend,
Let me secure one faithful friend.
Let me, in public scenes, request
A friend of wit and taste, well drest;
And, if I must not hope such favour,
A friend of wit and taste, however.
Alas! that Wisdom ever shuns
To congregate her scatter'd Sons,
Whose nervous forces, well combined,
Would win the field, and sway mankind.
The fool will squeeze, from morn to night,
To fix his follies full in sight;
The note he strikes, the plume he shows,
Attract whole flights of fops and beaus,
And kindred fools, who ne'er had known him,
Flock at the sight, caress and own him;
But ill-starr'd Sense, not gay nor loud,
Steals soft on tiptoe through the crowd;
Conveys his meagre form between,
And slides, like pervious air, unseen;
Contracts his known tenuity,
As though 'twere even a crime to be;
Nor even permits his eyes to stray,
And win acquaintance in their way.

[...] Read more

poem by William Shenstone
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The Magic Cup

THE worst of ills, with jealousy compared,
Are trifling torments ev'ry where declared.

IMAGINE, to yourself a silly fool,
To dark suspicion grown an easy tool;
No soft repose he finds, by night or day;
But rings his ear, he's wretched ev'ry way!
Continually he dreams his forehead sprouts;
The truth of reveries he never doubts.
But this I would not fully guaranty,
For he who dreams, 'tis said, asleep should be;
And those who've caught, from time to time, a peep,
Pretend to say--the jealous never sleep.

A MAN who has suspicions soon will rouse;
But buz a fly around his precious spouse,
At once he fancies cuckoldom is brought,
And nothing can eradicate the thought;
In spite of reason he must have a place,
And numbered be, among the horned race;
A cuckold to himself he freely owns,
Though otherwise perhaps in flesh and bones.

GOOD folks, of cuckoldom, pray what's the harm,
To give, from time to time, such dire alarm?
What injury 's received, and what 's the wrong,
At which so many sneer and loll their tongue?
While unacquainted with the fact, 'tis naught;
If known:--e'en then 'tis scarcely worth a thought.
You think, however, 'tis a serious grief;
Then try to doubt it, which may bring relief,
And don't resemble him who took a sup,
From out the celebrated magic cup.
Be warned by others' ills; the tale I'll tell;
Perhaps your irksomeness it may dispel.

BUT first, by reason let me prove, I pray,
That evil such as this, and which you say,
Oft weighs you down with soul-corroding care;
Is only in the mind:--mere spright of air:
Your hat upon your head for instance place,
Less gently rather than's your usual case;
Pray, don't it presently at ease remain?
And from it do you aught amiss retain?
Not e'en a spot; there's nothing half so clear;
The features, too, they as before appear?
No difference assuredly you see?
Then how can cuckoldom an evil be?
Such my conclusion, spite of fools or brutes,
With whose ideas reason never suits.

[...] Read more

poem by La Fontaine
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San Diego

I've got one thing left to say
I hope that things turn out OK
Maybe some day you will come around
Mabye we're too self-obsessed, materialistic, over-sexed
Energizers, silicone, aviators, mobile phones
I'll tell you one thing, gonna make it
Start a new life, be connected
Cause you will never see me drown, I'll build a ship when bridges burn
I don't want to fall back in, defenses down when eyes are staring in, staring in
San Diego (San Diego) that's where I'll go (that's where I'll go)
We'll watch the waves rise yeah as bodies glisten in the sun
San Diego sounds like fun
I just wanna find that place, journey into outer space
Watch the world through telescopes, send back photos to the folks
I'll tell you one thing, gonna make it
Start a new life, be connected
Cause you will never see me drown, I'll build a ship when bridges burn, yeah
I don't want to fall back in, defenses down when eyes are staring in, staring in
San Diego (San Diego) that's where I'll go (that's where I'll go)
We'll watch the waves rise yeah as bodies glisten in the sun
San Diego (San Diego) that's where I'll go (that's where I'll go)
We'll watch the waves rise yeah as bodies glisten in the sun
San Diego sounds like fun, fun
Me, myself I always burn my fears away
as substance turns me into something I can't be
San Diego (San Diego) that's where I'll go (that's where I'll go)
We'll watch the waves rise yeah as bodies glisten in the sun
San Diego (San Diego) that's where I'll go (that's where I'll go)
We'll watch the waves rise yeah as bodies glisten in the sun
San Diego (San Diego) that's where I'll go (that's where I'll go)
We'll watch the waves rise yeah as bodies glisten in the sun

song performed by Feeder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Kalimba De Luna

In the land of the sunshine
People know how to groove
Making emotions
Believin in what they do
Kalimba de luna
Take me tonight
Show me the way
To get right on time
E.o.u.a. - on the rhythm
Gente li ta los
E.o.u.a. - on the rhythm
Gente li ta los
Na na na na na na...
Kalimba de luna
Kalimba de luna
Kalimba de luna
Kalimba de luna
Kalimba de sol
Please talk to me
Lying is my life
Believin in what you say
Hey he he he heeeeeeey oooh oh oh
E.o.u.a. - on the rhythm
Gente li ta los
E.o.u.a.
Na na na na na na...
Kalimba de luna
Kalimba de luna
Kalimba de luna
Kalimba de luna
Ooooooooooh oh oh oh
Donga donga tenge popopopopopop...
Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooh
Na na na na na na...
Kalimba de luna
Kalimba de luna
Kalimba de luna
Kalimba de luna...

song performed by Boney M.
Added by Lucian Velea
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On The Death Of Damon. (Translated From Milton)

Ye Nymphs of Himera (for ye have shed
Erewhile for Daphnis and for Hylas dead,
And over Bion's long-lamented bier,
The fruitless meed of many a sacred tear)
Now, through the villas laved by Thames rehearse
The woes of Thyrsis in Sicilian verse,
What sighs he heav'd, and how with groans profound
He made the woods and hollow rocks resound
Young Damon dead; nor even ceased to pour
His lonely sorrows at the midnight hour.
The green wheat twice had nodded in the ear,
And golden harvest twice enrich'd the year,
Since Damon's lips had gasp'd for vital air
The last, last time, nor Thyrsis yet was there;
For he, enamour'd of the Muse, remain'd
In Tuscan Fiorenza long detain'd,
But, stored at length with all he wish'd to learn,
For his flock's sake now hasted to return,
And when the shepherd had resumed his seat
At the elm's root within his old retreat,
Then 'twas his lot, then, all his loss to know,
And, from his burthen'd heart, he vented thus his woe.
Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due
To other cares than those of feeding you.
Alas! what Deities shall I suppose
In heav'n or earth concern'd for human woes,
Since, Oh my Damon! their severe decree
So soon condemns me to regret of Thee!
Depart'st thou thus, thy virtues unrepaid
With fame and honour, like a vulgar shade?
Let him forbid it, whose bright rod controls,
And sep'rates sordid from illustrious souls,
Drive far the rabble, and to Thee assign
A happier lot with spirits worthy thine!
Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due
To other cares than those of feeding you.
Whate'er befall, unless by cruel chance
The wolf first give me a forbidding glance,
Thou shalt not moulder undeplor'd, but long
Thy praise shall dwell on ev'ry shepherd's tongue;
To Daphnis first they shall delight to pay,
And, after Him, to thee the votive lay,
While Pales shall the flocks and pastures love,
Or Faunus to frequent the field or grove,
At least if antient piety and truth
With all the learned labours of thy youth
May serve thee aught, or to have left behind
A sorrowing friend, and of the tuneful kind.
Go, seek your home, my lambs, my thoughts are due
To other cares than those of feeding you.

[...] Read more

poem by William Cowper
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Luna

White light cut a scar in the sky
Thin line of silver
The nigh t was all clouded with dreams
Wind made me shiver
Black and yellow pools of light
Outside my window
Luna come to me tonight
I am a prisoner
Luna glide down from the moon
The clouds are all silver and black
Floating aro und me
Luna come into my eyes
Luna surround me
With black and yellow pools of light
Fall by my window
Luna come to me tonight
I am a prisoner
Luna glide down from the moon
The clouds are all silver and black
Floating around me
Luna come into my eyes
Luna surround me
With black and yellow pools of light
Fall by my window
Luna come to me tonight
I am a prisoner
Luna glide down from the moon

song performed by Tom Petty
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Illuminated Stone

Once there was a rock
holding onto a Blackened sky

'Twas one night when
moon said to Rock
Let me light you...

'No' said rock
'this can not
for I am but a stone,
that was thrown
and landed in the sky.'
'It frightens me here Moon
for see' said Rock 'I cannot fly'

'A Stone? ' laughed Moon 'You need not fly
for you rock, you are a star'

'NO said Rock
this I'm not
I'm ordinary by far'

Moon shone bright
and shed his light
on Rock
and in no time it appeared
that rock might just be
the star Moon predicted,
so here was Rock
still in shock
for everyone started to stare.

'Moon stop that light'
asked Rock
'for you don't understand
I really am just a stone
and a ugly stone I am'
Rock knew of all the
sharp edges and holes and shreds,
caused by much erosion,
for stones are not pebbles
small and smooth,
that lays in soft riverbeds.

Moon grew fond
of Rock
and spent night after night
talking to Rock,
all the time shining his light.
Rock looked past Luna's flame

[...] Read more

poem by Michelle Melody
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Baila Morena (feat. Man)

Creo en los milagros desde que te vi
en esta noche de tequila boom, boom.
Eres tan sexy, eres sexy thing
mis ojos te persiguen solo a ti.
Y debe haber un caos dentro de ti
para que brotes de una estrella que baila.
Infierno y paraiso dentro de ti,
la luna es un sol mira como brilla.
Baby the night is on fire
Seamos fuego en el cielo,
llamas en lo obscuro... what you say
Baila, baila morena
bajo de esta luna llena,
Under the moonlight
Under the moonlight
Ven chica, ven loca, dame tu boca,
en esta noche cualquier cosa te toca.
Mi corazn se revienta y no aguanto,
morena rebuena te quiero yo tanto.
Baby, the night is on fire
Seamos fuego en el cielo,
escandalo en lo obscuro... what you say
Baila, baila morena
bajo de esta luna llena
Under the moonlight
Y baila, under the moonlight
bajo de esta luna llena
baila morena
yeah.... yeah.... yeah....
You got me hutin' so bad, so bad
You let me so, so bad
What you say...
Baila, baila morena
bajo de esta luna llena
under the moonlight (under the moonlight)
y baila (baila), under the moonlight,
bajo de esta luna llena (baila morena)
baila morena (come on baby, come on).
Bajo de esta luna llena,
bajo de esta luna llena,
bajo de esta luna llena...
Under the moonlight

song performed by Zucchero
Added by Lucian Velea
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Baila Sexy Thing

BAILA "sexy thing"
di Zucchero / Robyx - Zucchero
Adesso credo nei miracoli
In questa notte di tequila boom boom
Sei cosa sexy cosa, sexy thing, .. ormai
Ti ho messo gli occhi addosso.. e lo sai
Che devi avere un caos dentro di te
x far fiorire una stella che balla
Inferno e paradiso dentro di te
La luna e' un sole guarda come brilla
Baby the night is on fire
Siamo fiamme nel cielo
Lampi in mezzo al buio what you say
Baila, baila morena
Sotto questa luna piena
Under the moonlight
Under the moonlight
Vai chica vai cocca che mi sa cocca
Che questa sera qualche cosa ti tocca
Ho un cuore d'oro sai il cuore di un santo
x cosi' poco me la merito tanto
Baby the night is on fire
Siamo fiamme nel cielo
Scandalo nel buio what you say
Baila, baila morena
Sotto questa luna piena
Under the moonlight
Baila, under the moonlight
Sotto questa luna piena
Baila morena.. yeah yeah yeah
You got me hurtin so bad, so bad
I got to have it, so bad
What you say
Baila, baila morena
Sotto questa luna piena
Under the moonlight
E daila, under the moonlight
Sotto questa luna piena
Daila morena
Sotto questa luna piena
Sotto questa luna piena
Sotto questa luna piena
Under the moonlight

song performed by Zucchero
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ms Luna Is Ticked

Luna...
Ticked!
We keep Ms Luna...
Ticked!
And she has handled...
It!
By stirring up the waters.
And on us storm.

Luna...
Ticked!
We keep Ms Luna...
Ticked!
And she has handled...
It!
By controlling all the fluids.
And to us she's gonna do it.

Luna...
Ticked!
We keep Ms Luna...
Ticked!
And she has handled...
It!
But she has tired of our wickedness.
And this has gotten to her quick.
She's tired of those things we've done,
Making her sick.
And getting to the bottom of it,
She's gon' let it rip!

Ms Luna...
Is ticked!
We keep Ms Luna...
Ticked!
She's tired of those things we've done,
Making her sick.
And getting to the bottom of it,
She's gon' let it rip!
By controlling all the fluids.
And to us she's gonna do it.
To convince,
Ms Luna...
Is ticked!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Thurso’s Landing

I
The coast-road was being straightened and repaired again,
A group of men labored at the steep curve
Where it falls from the north to Mill Creek. They scattered and hid
Behind cut banks, except one blond young man
Who stooped over the rock and strolled away smiling
As if he shared a secret joke with the dynamite;
It waited until he had passed back of a boulder,
Then split its rock cage; a yellowish torrent
Of fragments rose up the air and the echoes bumped
From mountain to mountain. The men returned slowly
And took up their dropped tools, while a banner of dust
Waved over the gorge on the northwest wind, very high
Above the heads of the forest.
Some distance west of the road,
On the promontory above the triangle
Of glittering ocean that fills the gorge-mouth,
A woman and a lame man from the farm below
Had been watching, and turned to go down the hill. The young
woman looked back,
Widening her violet eyes under the shade of her hand. 'I think
they'll blast again in a minute.'
And the man: 'I wish they'd let the poor old road be. I don't
like improvements.' 'Why not?' 'They bring in the world;
We're well without it.' His lameness gave him some look of age
but he was young too; tall and thin-faced,
With a high wavering nose. 'Isn't he amusing,' she said, 'that
boy Rick Armstrong, the dynamite man,
How slowly he walks away after he lights the fuse. He loves to
show off. Reave likes him, too,'
She added; and they clambered down the path in the rock-face,
little dark specks
Between the great headland rock and the bright blue sea.

II
The road-workers had made their camp
North of this headland, where the sea-cliff was broken down and
sloped to a cove. The violet-eyed woman's husband,
Reave Thurso, rode down the slope to the camp in the gorgeous
autumn sundown, his hired man Johnny Luna
Riding behind him. The road-men had just quit work and four
or five were bathing in the purple surf-edge,
The others talked by the tents; blue smoke fragrant with food
and oak-wood drifted from the cabin stove-pipe
And slowly went fainting up the vast hill.
Thurso drew rein by
a group of men at a tent door
And frowned at them without speaking, square-shouldered and
heavy-jawed, too heavy with strength for so young a man,
He chose one of the men with his eyes. 'You're Danny Woodruff,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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The Conversation. A Tale

It always has been a thought discreet
To know the company you meet;
And sure there may be secret danger
In talking much before a stranger.
Agreed: what then? Then drink your ale;
I'll pledge you, and repeat my tale.

No matter where the scene is fix'd,
The persons were but oddly mix'd;
When sober Damon thus began,
(And Damon is a clever man!)
I now grow old, but still from youth
Have held for modesty and truth;
The men who by these sea-marks steer
In life's great voyage never err:

Upon this point I dare defy
The world; I pause for a reply.

Sir, either is a good assistant,
Said one, who sat a little distant;
Truth decks our speeches and our books,
And modesty adorns our looks:
But farther progress we must take;
Not only born to look and speak,
The man must act. The Stagirite
Says thus, and says extremely right.
Strict justice is the sovereign guide
That o'er our actions should preside;
This queen of virtues is confess'd
To regulate and bind the rest.
Thrice happy if you can but find
Her equal balance poise your mind;
All different graces soon will enter,
Like lines concurrent to their centre.

'Twas thus, in short, these two went on,
With yea and nay, and
pro
and
con
.
Through many points divinely dark,
And Waterland assaulting Clarke,
Till, in theology half lost,
Damon took up the Evening Post,
Confounded Spain, composed the north,
And deep in politics held forth.
Methinks we're in the like condition
As at the Treaty of Partition:

[...] Read more

poem by Matthew Prior
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Baila (Sex Thing)

It blows my mind now that I found you
Deep in the night of tequila boom boom
Slide by me, sexy thing, sexy and fine
I got my eyes on you all of the time.....yeah
Youve got to have chaos burnin in you
To make you open like a flower in bloom
Hell lives inside you next to paradise
The moon and sun have come to watch your shine
Baby, the night is on fire
Yea, were flames in the sky
Flashin through the night.....what you say?
Baila, baila morena
Sotto questa luna piena
Under the moonlight
Under the moonlight
Go chica, go cocca keep it all shakin
You know tonight somethins up for the takin
My heart is gold, heart of a saint
With you beside me girl, oh, then I aint
Baby, the night is on fire
Yea, were flames in the sky
A scandal in the night.....what you say?
Baila, baila morena
Sotto questa luna piena
Under the moonlight
Baila, under the moonlight
Sotto questa luna piena
Baila morena.....yeah yeah yeah
You got me hurtin so bad, so bad
I got to have it, so bad
Baila, baila morena
Sotto questa luna piena
Under the moonlight
Baila, under the moonlight
Sotto questa luna piena
Baila morena
Sotto questa luna piena
Sotto questa luna piena
Sotto questa luna piena
Under the moonlight.

song performed by Zucchero
Added by Lucian Velea
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Writer Damon Runyon

Shirley Temple launched her career,
with Littlest Miss Marker,
making her Best Star of the Year.
Damon Runyon wrote this story,
It was a drama, not very gory.
Damon wrote “Guys and Dolls”
which is a Broadway musical,
Manhattan’s Hell’s Kitchen named after him
named Runyon’s Way to this day.
He named his mobster friend Otto, Regret,
A horse player who used to bet.
now Regret is in Shirley Temple’s hit.
Later, Otto ended up getting killed,
Damon did damage control,
Damon wrote “Otto would have been effective as
a bodyguard as a child aged two year old.
Damon died at 66, he had throat
cancer the year was 1946.
History’s first telethon of the nation,
washosted Milton Berle for
Damon Runyon Cancer Research Foundation.
Damon sounds like an interesting and a sensational writer,
I will read more of his writings to become brighter.

Written By Suzae Chevalier on September 24,2011
www.christinasunrise.com www.puppetpoems.com

poem by Christina Sunrise
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Writer Damon Runyon

Shirley Temple launched her career,
with Littlest Miss Marker,
making her Best Star of the Year.
Damon Runyon wrote this story,
It was a drama, not very gory.
Damon wrote 'Guys and Dolls'
which is a Broadway musical,
Manhattan's Hell's Kitchen named after him
named Runyon's Way to this day.
He named his mobster friend Otto, Regret,
A horse player who used to bet.
now Regret is in Shirley Temple's hit.
Later, Otto ended up getting killed,
Damon did damage control,
Damon wrote 'Otto would have been effective as
a bodyguard as a child aged two year old.
Damon died at 66, he had throat
cancer the year was 1946.
History's first telethon of the nation,
washosted Milton Berle for
Damon Runyon Cancer Research Foundation.
Damon sounds like an interesting and a sensational writer,
I will read more of his writings to become brighter.

Written By Suzae Chevalier on September 24,2011
www.suzae.com www.puppetpoems.com
www.suzaria.com

poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Old Town Types No.2 - Red Matt

He gleaned all the gossip and he gathered all the news,
Mad Matt, the carrier, delivering the grub;
He knew the trooper's tattle and he knew the parson's views,
The gossip at the station-yard, the gossip at the pub.
That high-pitched voice of his, the loudest voice in town,
That shrewd blue eye of his, with humor all a-gleam -
Old Red Matt, with his cabbage-tree hat,
His trolley, and his two-horse team.

Driving down the main street a-clatter with his load,
The great red beard of him blowing out behind:
'Hear about that accident's mornin' up the road?
Hear about the gold rush at Joe Scott's find?
Warmish sort o' day we got; thirsty weather this.
Got a bag o' spuds for you - Dang! Fergot the cream!'
Says old Red Matt with his cabbage-tree hat,
And his trolley, and his two-horse team.

Mad Matt, the carrier, standing at the bar:
'Well here's a go, boys. Got to get along
Seven pints I've had today and still to travel far.
Drink fast and drive fast, yeh can't go wrong.
Fill 'em up again, boss, ans hove it on the slate.
Half-a-ton aboard today - just tipped the beam,'
Says old red Matt with the cabbage-tree hat,
And his trolley, and his two-horse team.

Sudden were his wild ways, sudden, too, his end.
Jumped to grab a bolting team with kiddie sin the trap;
And they picked up Mad Matt, everybody's friend,
Silent now and broken; and they said, 'Brave chap.
Wild an' all,' they said of him, 'always was a white man.'
And they laid him, with a blessing, where his old mates dream,
Saying, 'So long, Matt, with your cabbage-tree hat,
And your trolley, and your two-horse team.'

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Maybe I Was Damon In A Past Life

Maybe I was Damon Runyon in a past time
he died at age 66 which was the year I began my life.
I also write about someone I call the "Guy"
who maybe is kind of shy.
Damon wrote a play with Dolls & Guys
which was acted out in NYC—very true-not a lie.
I write about a Doll
who is cute and kind of small.
Damon also named his pet _____
almost like mine.
I write about a character with letter
beginning with N—
he was only a sponsor to me—
he wanted to be more than friends—
Just like Damon-
who writes about characters where
he actually supported them
in his writing he actually defends.
Damon also writes about baseball
I don't know baseball at all.
I am more of a poet who story-tells-
I write of the doll character nicknamed Mel.
See baseball is not my cup of tea—
but to Damon he was famous for
being a reporter known around the country.

Written by Suzae Chevalier on March 17,2012

poem by Christina Sunrise
Added by Poetry Lover
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Damon Runyon In A Past Life?

Maybe I was Damon Runyon in a past time
he died at age 66 which was the year I began my life.
I also write about someone I call the 'Guy'
who maybe is kind of shy.
Damon wrote a play with Dolls & Guys
which was acted out in NYC—very true-not a lie.
I write about a Doll
who is cute and kind of small.
Damon also named his pet _____
almost like mine.
I write about a character with letter
beginning with N—
he was only a sponsor to me—
he wanted to be more than friends—
Just like Damon-
who writes about characters where
he actually supported them
in his writing he actually defends.
Damon also writes about baseball
I don't know baseball at all.
I am more of a poet who story-tells-
I write of the doll character nicknamed Mel.
See baseball is not my cup of tea—
but to Damon he was famous for
being a reporter known around the country.
He even wrote a character named Sarah Brown
I have a character Sarah who lives by a clown.
Little Miss Marker was a play he wrote-
I wrote a poem Little Miss Melodie who sings a note.
His grandfather was from New Jersey just like me
I see a lot of similarities-

Written by Suzae Chevalier on March 17,2012
www.suzae.com

poem by Suzae Chevalier
Added by Poetry Lover
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Maybe I Was Damon In A Past Life

Maybe I was Damon Runyon in a past time
he died at age 66 which was the year I began my life.
I also write about someone I call the 'Guy'
who maybe is kind of shy.
Damon wrote a play with Dolls & Guys
which was acted out in NYC—very true-not a lie.
I write about a Doll
who is cute and kind of small.
Damon also named his pet _____
almost like mine.
I write about a character with letter
beginning with N—
he was only a sponsor to me—
he wanted to be more than friends—
Just like Damon-
who writes about characters where
he actually supported them
in his writing he actually defends.
Damon also writes about baseball
I don't know baseball at all.
I am more of a poet who story-tells-
I write of the doll character nicknamed Mel.
See baseball is not my cup of tea—
but to Damon he was famous for
being a reporter known around the country.
He even wrote a character named Sarah Brown
I have a character Sarah who lives by a clown.
Little Miss Marker was a play he wrote-
I wrote a poem Little Miss Melodie who sings a note.
His grandfather was from New Jersey just like me
I see a lot of similarities-

Written by Suzae Chevalier on March 17,2012

poem by Suzae Chevalier
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!