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No one has their own identity like the Ronettes did back in the day.

quote by Ronnie Spector
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Mama Africa's Identity

Mama Africa's identity,
And of the Fulanis and the Fulbes;
But the Savannah and the Sahara are here to stay in Africa.
Mama Africa's identity,
And of the Dogons and the Shilluks;
And of the cowries usedas money in those days,
But the identities of the African are in many faces.
It is like a durbar in Africa and,
At the market plac to meet others;
But a visit to the tomatoes market in Ghana will tell you much.
Mama African's identity,
And like 'the Golden Stool' of the Ashanti Kingsdom!
But wait for the dried-fish on the coasts of Africa.
Visit St. Louis in the delta of Senegal and learn about the ways of the African,
For my home i in El Molo;
And like Mama Africa's identity praising my muse.
Mama African's identity,
And of the pygmies in Central Africa!
But i have my mind on the Rift Valley,
And like the mirror of the rivers, lakes and the seas of Africa! !
The Massai and the Dinka do play their roles,
And like the Nubaians in South Sudan;
But with the temperature above 40 degrees in most parts of Africa.
Mama Africa's identity,
And like a message to my lover in Lalibala;
For early in the morning came the leopards to drink some water,
But a visit to Mount Meru will entice you.
Mama Africa's identity,
And of the Zulus and the Rendilles;
But the Afars are here to blend with the dry land.
Mama Africa's identity,
With the rhythms and rituals of the Africans!
And like the tribes of Ovambo, Herero, Xhosa, Shona and Matabele.
And like the Bemba, the Tonga and the Ovaimbundu!
But the red land of Africa care for you all.
Mama Africa's identity,
And of River Limpopo in the mist of love;
But try to visit the Victoria Falls to satisfy your curiosity.
Mama Africa's identity,
And of the Himbas with their traditional dance;
But the Kikuyu, the Hutu, the Tutsi and the Hambukushu are also there,
For Africa is a very big continent for all of us.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Lonely Spider

The lonely spider reaches out
For what, you might ask?
If not to spin his web then for what?
For his identity
The identity of him
His identity...

The lonely spider calls out
For what, you might ask?
If not for his mate then for what?
For his identity
The identity of him
His identity...

The lonely spider waits
For what, you might ask?
If not for his food then for what?
For his identity
The identity of him
His identity...

'A spider doesn't have feelings! '
How should you know?

'A spider isn't that smart! '
That could be true.

'A spider can never have a real identity! '
And neither could you, or any of us
But we try to find one even if we're not looking
And thats our life... after which we die

What have we done with our life up until then?
Either we've thrown it away, gave it up, wrecked it, lived it up to the fullest, took it for granted, or got far in it.
We still had one.
It's up to us what we shall do with it
Just like the lonely spider
Who will probably just end up on the bottom of your shoe anyways

poem by Andreanna Atkins
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All Day Sucker

Come on up you say
Cause you can feel your love comin down
I find myself rushin over to
Do something for your love
I knock on the door
You answer askin what am I there for
I say I thought you wanted me to
Do something for your love
Im an all day sucker
Coming to give something to get nothin
Im an all day sucker
Coming to give something but to get none of your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
You call me up to say
Youre sorry for what went down the other day
And could I come over today
Do something for your love
One knuck gets me in
But then you say how very nice its been
That lets me know that I will once again
Get nothin fom your love
Im an all day sucker
Coming to give something to get nothin
Im an all day sucker
Coming to give something but to get none of your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
You drop by to say
Youre sorry for what went down the other day

[...] Read more

song performed by Stevie Wonder
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Is Man A Winner Or A Loser?

Woman has a poof that the child is hers;
Man has no such proof to claim on the child.
She is cool with the child as identity.
He is desperate for his identity.

Identity crisis has disturbed him.
He invented marriage and chained woman.
He imposed chastity to mark his kids
And introduced patriarchal system.

Identity crisis has troubled him.
He assumed control over women.
He retained the progeny in his name
And made concubines to silence woman.

Identity crisis has worried him.
He bottled woman's skill and built up his.
He grew to be a Scholar. Sculptor and Poet
And assigned to woman the entertaining.

Identity crisis has bothered him.
He treated woman as her property.
He acquired family unfailingly
And labourd for its upkeep and status.

Identity crisis has bored him.
Water as she is, man could not cut her.
Tired of heat outside, man needed a shade
And sheltered himself in woman's coolness.

Woman treated man with due sympathy
With no fight with him for identity.
Her child is enough for her identity.
She helped him to anchor himself in her.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sinful identity

It wasn’t the slightest in my hands to choose the
parents who had so handsomely procreated me; nor was
it my fault that the house in which I emitted my first
infantile cry; overflowed with unfathomable oceans of
glittering gold,
But it would irrefutably be the greatest sin if I
baselessly rejoiced and took all their hard-earned
wealth for granted; miserably dithered in my
impoverished life to carve a philanthropically
blissful identity of my very own….

It wasn’t the slightest in my hands to choose the
parents who had so majestically procreated me; nor was
it my fault that the house in which I emitted my
first baby cry; had an endless inundation of sparkling
currency coin,
But it would irrefutably be the greatest sin if I
parasitically feasted and took all their hard-earned
wealth for granted; pathetically staggered in my
diminutive life to carve a synergistically blazing
identity of my very own….

It wasn’t the slightest in my hands to choose the
parents who had so wonderfully procreated me; nor was
it my fault that the house in which I emitted my first
incoherent cry; remained perpetually embellished with
resplendently enamoring diamonds,
But it would irrefutably be the greatest sin if I
derogatorily marauded and took all their hard-earned
wealth for granted; dismally stuttered in my truncated
life to carve a celestially vibrant identity of my
very own…
It wasn’t the slightest in my hands to choose the
parents who had so marvelously procreated me; nor was
it my fault that the house in which I emitted my first
nimble cry; contained every speck of prosperity on
this timeless planet,
But it would irrefutably be the greatest sin if I
indiscriminately terrorized and took all their
hard-earned wealth for granted; meaninglessly quavered
in my destined life to carve a beautifully magnanimous
identity of my very own…..

It wasn’t the slightest in my hands to choose the
parents who had so amazingly procreated me; nor was it
my fault that the house in which I emitted my first
inaudible cry; had its foundations resting on an
insurmountable mountain of pearls,
But it would irrefutably be the greatest sin if I
savagely massacred and took all their hard-earned

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Domino Dancing

(tennant/lowe)
-----------------
(all day, all day)
I dont know why, I dont know how
I thought I loved you, but Im not sure now
Ive seen you look at strangers too many times
A love-you-once is of a, a different kind
Remember when we felt the sun
A love like paradise, how hot it burned
A threat of distant thunder, the sky was red
And when you walked, you always - turned every head
(all day, all day) watch them all fall down
(all day, all day) domino dancing
(all day, all day) watch them all fall down
(all day, all day) domino dancing
I thought that when we fought I was to blame
But now I know you play a different game
Ive watched you dance with danger, still wanting more
Add another number to the score
(all day, all day) watch them all fall down
(all day, all day) domino dancing
(all day, all day) watch them all fall down
(all day, all day) domino dancing
When you look around you wonder
Do you play to win?
Or are you just a bad loser?
(all day, all day)
(all day, all day)
(all day, all day) watch them all fall down
(all day, all day, domino dancing)
(all day, all day)
(all day, all day)
I dont know why, I dont know how
Id thought I loved you, but Im not sure now
I hear the thunder crashing, the sky is dark
And now a storm is breaking within my heart
(all day, all day) watch them all fall down
(all day, all day) domino dancing
(all day, all day) watch them all fall down
(all day, all day, domino dancing)
(all day, all daeheheheheheheh)
(all day, all daeheheheheheheh)
(all day, all day)
(all day, all day)
(domino dancing)
(all day, all day)
(all day, all day)
(all day, all day) watch them all fall down
(all day, all day, domino dancing)
(all day, all day) watch them all fall down

[...] Read more

song performed by Pet Shop Boys
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Identity Of I

Identity is not what I promise others
Identity is what I do when I am alone
Identity is what I think of others
Knowing all the hatred they've shown

Identity is what every wound reminds me
Identity is what I learn and what I pass by
Identity is what I see in the mirror
After giving my best try

Identity is what I make out of my given chance
Identity is what I accept and what I deny
No one else has control over me
Life is about me, and what I identify

poem by Abhiraj Rajadhyaksha
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Identity Crisises

Sometimes I'm James Bond
Sometimes I'm Billy The Kid
Sometimes I feel like Sherlock Holmes
Sometimes I feel like Jack The Ripper
'Cause I got an image out of control
Identity crisisis
I don't need a new face
'Cause mine's been erased
Identity crisisis
Sometimes I'm on a case
Sometimes I'm shooting bad dudes
Sometimes I'm slashing the face
Sometimes I'm looking for clues
Sometimes I'm braking the law
Sometimes I'm solving a crime
I'm always fast on the draw
I get the girls all the time
'Cause I got an image out of control
Identity crisisis
I don't need a new face
'Cause mine's been erased
Identity crisisis
Sometimes I'm James Bond
Sometimes I'm Billy The Kid
Sometimes I feel like Sherlock Holmes
Sometimes I feel like Jack The Ripper
'Cause I got an image out of control
Identity crisisis
I don't need a new face
'Cause mine's been erased
Identity crisisis
'Cause I got an image out of control
Identity crisisis
I don't need a new face
'Cause mine's been erased
Identity crisisis

song performed by Alice Cooper
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Identity of a person

Identity of a person
Identity signifies complexity
Identity identifies with reality
Identity is the bearer of all vanity
How does a person identify with identity?

You define yourself based on what?
They say, they say
You’re kind or moral based on what?
Or
You’re a genius and shrewd based on what?
Or
You make the perfect lover, look for no other

They say, they say
You’re strong without a thought it may not last long
Or
You’ve skills since with a record you run up high bills
Or
You are shy but no one ever talks to you or says hi
Or
You never give up because right now you are on top

They say, they say
You are generous or gregarious when all you are is conscious
Or
You’re innovative yet not the originator of the idea conceived

What are the facts?
That makes your identity intact
When change on identity has the last impact?

Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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The Course Of Time. Book X.

God of my fathers! holy, just, and good!
My God! my Father! my unfailing Hope!
Jehovah! let the incense of my praise,
Accepted, burn before thy mercy seat,
And in thy presence burn both day and night.
Maker! Preserver! my Redeemer! God!
Whom have I in the heavens but Thee alone?
On earth, but Thee, whom should I praise, whom love?
For Thou hast brought me hitherto, upheld
By thy omnipotence; and from thy grace,
Unbought, unmerited, though not unsought—
The wells of thy salvation, hast refreshed
My spirit, watering it, at morn and even!
And by thy Spirit, which thou freely givest
To whom thou wilt, hast led my venturous song,
Over the vale, and mountain tract, the light
And shade of man; into the burning deep
Descending now, and now circling the mount,
Where highest sits Divinity enthroned;
Rolling along the tide of fluent thought,
The tide of moral, natural, divine;
Gazing on past, and present, and again,
On rapid pinion borne, outstripping Time,
In long excursion, wandering through the groves
Unfading, and the endless avenues,
That shade the landscape of eternity;
And talking there with holy angels met,
And future men, in glorious vision seen!
Nor unrewarded have I watched at night,
And heard the drowsy sound of neighbouring sleep;
New thought, new imagery, new scenes of bliss
And glory, unrehearsed by mortal tongue,
Which, unrevealed, I trembling, turned and left,
Bursting at once upon my ravished eye,
With joy unspeakable, have filled my soul,
And made my cup run over with delight;
Though in my face, the blasts of adverse winds,
While boldly circumnavigating man,
Winds seeming adverse, though perhaps not so,
Have beat severely; disregarded beat,
When I behind me heard the voice of God,
And his propitious Spirit say,—Fear not.
God of my fathers! ever present God!
This offering more inspire, sustain, accept;
Highest, if numbers answer to the theme;
Best answering if thy Spirit dictate most.
Jehovah! breathe upon my soul; my heart
Enlarge; my faith increase; increase my hope;
My thoughts exalt; my fancy sanctify,
And all my passions, that I near thy throne

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Pollok
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Ground conceptual

conceptual poetry is a ground for floating identity or post-identity being in the becoming process of possibility-a shaking and unstable truth-banks.conceptual poetry is a ground for floating identity or post-identity being in the becoming process of possibility-a shaking and unstable truth-banks.conceptual poetry is a ground for floating identity or post-identity being in the becoming process of possibility-a shaking and unstable truth-banks.

''

'GROUND'

poem by Nyein Way
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Seven Day Weekend

See the girl in the cabriolet
Im gonna make her mine someday
The traffic stops and she steps out
Every man starts to scream and shout
Theres a space in the week
Its a date I can keep, oh yeah
Seven day, seven day, seven day
Its a seven day weekend
Seven day, seven day, seven day
Its a seven day weekend
See the girl in the pale peach dress
Shes got a body build to caress
Like a one-eyed cat
Outside a seafood store
Shes got me begging
More, more, more
Ive been saving and saving
And saving my money
To spend it on her
* seven day, seven day, seven day
Its a seven day weekend
Seven day (seven day)
Seven day (seven day) seven day
Its a seven day weekend
Seven day (seven day)
Seven day (seven day) seven day
Its a seven day weekend
(* repeat)
Seven day (saturday)
Seven day (every day) seven day
Its a seven day weekend
Seven day (seven day)
Seven day (seven day) seven day
Its a seven day weekend
Seven day (seven day)
Seven day (seven day) seven day
Its a seven day weekend

song performed by Abc
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The kid identity

The kid identity

Look at me,
It is not my true identity,
But when they see the true true me,
I am nothing but a messed up key,
When they see my true identity,
They want to go back to what they thought was me,
But they must not go and see,
Who my true identity could really be,
Just remember I’m my real identity.

By: Colby Selter

poem by Colby Selter
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Mistaken Identity

Undercover cop car
Came screeching to a halt
Body lying on the ground
Must be someones fault
Circumstantial evidence
Seemed to point her way
Her right to remain silent
Was all she heard them say
Blue dress, blue eyes
Blonde hair, about five foot nine
Wrong place, wrong time
Wrong face, wrong crime
(chorus):
Mistaken identity
Could happen to you or to me
Mistaken identity
Mistaken identity
Could happen to you or to me
Mistaken identity
Mistaken identity
(I didnt do it, no, I didnt do it)
No money for a lawyer
To defend her case
Standing in the line-up
Tears rolling down her face
No one cared to listen
Someone had to take the heat
Sometimes theres no justice
When youre a victim of the street
Wrong place, wrong time
Wrong face, wrong crime (x4)
(chorus):
Tu ut tu tu tu...tu ut tut tu tu
They didnt even say
Im sorry
Tried to put her away
In a hurry
Dont make her pay the price
Shes not guilty
(guilty)
For someone elses crime
Set her free
(set her free)
I didnt
I didnt
I didnt do it no (x4)
(chorus out)

song performed by Donna Summer
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Who I Really Am

Fingers dash across keys, type, type, type
Awkwardly from one key to the next, I told myself I wouldn't write
The computer, the ginger tea, the black text in a sea of white
They subside
As a new reality has come to override

I don't want to be who I was back then...

Screams of an infernal scratching
Voices of endless chiding
Murmurs of infinite condemnation
Each word a wicked consolation speaking to a identity of hatred
Each scream a twisted affirmation of the identity of hatred
Each murmur coaxing out my identity of hatred
Thus he does emerge, the man, the monster
No it's not a scream
No it's not a voice
Not it's not a murmur it's who I am
I made those
I make those
I am those
Inadequate, incapable, inevitable, inept, invisible
Untalented, unkind, unworthy, unable, unlovable
These are lies
You know they're all true he sighs
You know that's you
Murmurs of infinite condemnation
Voices of endless chiding
Screams of an infernal scratching

I don't want to be who I was back then...

Haha I've come to bring you freedom, let you be honest, let you be me
Can't you see?
I've come to take what's mine
Cough, cough, it's dizzying, I see blood, I feel blood, I lose blood
Ground... thud... voices
tears...screams...tears
murmurs...ha nds...blood
Unlovable
scream
Scream
SCREAM
Still small voice
Whisper, no
Whisper, I am here now because of My love, and it's real
It echoes more than voices, rings stronger than screams,
Louder than murmurs, truer than the lies
And stronger than you...
But you... but this, I tried to be someone else, but I am you

[...] Read more

poem by David Knox
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Indian Giver

An Indian Giver is known as one who would give you something then take it back
The term came to be many years ago through some misunderstandings to be exact
Under normal circumstances I would not call myself an Indian Giver ‘cause I’m really not that way
But I have to say that I’m an Indian Giver now because I’m taking back something I gave away
I gave away something I shouldn’t have to someone many years ago that belonged only to me
That thing that I gave away so long ago to someone it didn’t belong to, was my own personal identity
I gave it away when I accepted their view of me, my life, what I do, where I go and who I spend my time with
But my identity was given to me by God who created me and gave me identity as a gift
It began when an event took place in my life that they didn’t approve of and said things that broke my heart
As the years have come and gone away, things they say to and about me seem to tear me apart
You see, I started seeking their approval for everything I did always concerned about what they thought
Then when they did not approve of something I did, I began to beat up on myself a whole lot
It was like if they didn’t approve then what I was doing was somehow wrong or bad in some kind of way
God would even tell me the outcome if I shared it with them, but I would share things with them anyway
As time went by things got worse ‘cause I got angry if I felt they were passing judgment on me
Instead of calmly telling them that I didn’t receive their judgment I became more bound rather than free
It’s a shame that things have to get so bad before we make a decision to do something about them
Then we run to God in prayer wanting Him to do something ‘cause we know we can’t do anything without Him
If we had gone to God in prayer at first instead of going through years of self destruction
We could have avoided a lot of grief, pain, anger and sleep, not to mention our destiny’s interruption
When you allow rejection, judgment and condemnation to come in, you give away your identity
When it is God who created you to be who and the way you are, and if anyone is to judge it is He
No one else has a Heaven or Hell to place you in, nor does anyone have a right to control you
But, when their thoughts, opinions, judgments and negativity get you out of character, that’s exactly what they do
The sooner you realize what has taken place in your life to cause you so much hurt
The process of healing can begin to make you whole and put satan under your feet in the dirt
You see, rejection, low self-esteem, fear of man and deep hurt are all spirits invoked by the enemy
They’re strategically designed to steal your joy, kill your dreams and destroy your vision so you can’t see
The devil will pull out all stops to get you, including using people at church, work, family and close friends
When he sees what buttons affect you and distort your true character, he’ll use them again and again
We’ve been sent as sheep in the midst of wolves so we must be wise as serpents and as harmless as doves
This is not always an easy thing to do, so we must constantly be in communication with our Heavenly Father above
With His help we will overcome the wiles of the devil, we will be whole and our blessings will flow like a river
As we take back what rightfully belongs to us, our God-given identity, when we become an Indian Giver

poem by Deidre Blair
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Me: The thief of my Identity

The thief of my Identity

To my Friends and Family
My true Identity
Is all that makes me

I stole my identity
My personality
What I live for, What I breath for
What I'd fight for, what I'd die for

If not for my soul,
I would be lost once again
For my True Identity has fled me
Fled me for another

It is the dancing shadow you play with,
The beauty you can see in yourself,
And the hostility.
It wants to see you suffer,
It is most content, when you are in despair.

When I can look into my self
and find the real Identity of my inner self,
Until then I will not blame anyone
for my misfortune

poem by Brad Combs
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True Identity

True Identity (This is a song)
(1) I’m trying so hard to get though the week, but things go wrong when people don’t speak, see that is not my problem my problem is I have no one the speak. to, I try and I try to put on a happy face, I try and I try to not look misplaced, but I guess that’s what’s on the outside, on the inside is a whole nother’ place…
(Chorus) I’m let down, by my friends at school, I’m not pretty popular or cool,
I whish they could know, how much they’ve hurt me, all those things, just had to be dirty, I’m the loser with the long blonde hair but in my heart I’ve gone somewhere,
So what they see is not my true identity….
(2) So my heart is like a mirror, reflecting those words, the school days draw nearer, and I feel like a curse, My feelings kept inside my head, so I reveal them now to you instead….
(Chorus) I’m let down, by my friends at school, I’m not pretty popular or cool,
I whish they could know, how much they’ve hurt me, all those things, just had to be dirty, I’m the loser with the long blonde hair but in my heart I’ve gone somewhere,
So what they see is not my true identity….
(Bridge) M world is spinning upside down, And now my smile is a frown, But now the summer is over, the weekends are all I have left, the school week seems not to end, like a river with a never ending bend….
(Chorus) I’m let down, by my friends at school, I’m not pretty popular or cool,
I whish they could know, how much they’ve hurt me, all those things, just had to be dirty, I’m the loser with the long blonde hair but in my heart I’ve gone somewhere,
So what they see is not my true identity….
No they don’t see me, or my true identity….
By: Riley Smith

poem by Riley Smith
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This Valentines Day Revised

This Valentines Day,
I promise to love you more than I have in the past.
This Valentines Day,
I promise to make you feel more special than I ever have before.
This Valentines Day,
I promise that I will never make promise I can’t keep.
This Valentines Day,
I promise to make you smile bigger than you ever have before,
This Valentines Day,
I promise to give you the biggest hug I ever gave you before.
This Valentines Day,
I promise to kiss you so softly, you get butterflies in your stomach.
This Valentines Day,
I promise to never tell you I love you and not mean it.
This Valentines Day,
I promise to remain forever yours.
This Valentines Day,
I promise to write you at least one poem every month.
This Valentines Day,
I promise that I will be here next year and the year after that as long as I can help it.

This Valentines Day,
I'm glad I'm yours.
This Valentines Day,
I'm glad I meet you.
This Valentines Day,
I'm glad you know how to forgive.
This Valentines Day,
I'm glad you love me.
This Valentines Day,
I’m glad I love you.
This Valentines Day,
I'm glad I didn't leave.
This Valentines Day,
I'm glad to say you're mine.
This Valentines Day,
I’m glad I get to see your beautiful face light up when I see you.
This Valentines Day,
I’m glad I stopped hating you for no reason.
This Valentines Day,
I’m glad I held your hand that one day at the carnival.

This Valentines Day,
Is more than just flowers and candy.
This Valentines Day,
Is more than little red hearts.
This Valentines Day,
Is more than a hallmark holiday.
This Valentines Day,

[...] Read more

poem by Brandi Young
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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