After all, it is not where one washes one's neck that counts but where one moistens one's throat.
quote by Djuna Barnes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Kiss Me On My Neck
I want somebody to walk up behind me
And kiss me on my neck and breathe on my neck
I want somebody to walk up behind me
And kiss me on my neck and breathe on my neck
Been such a long time
I forgot that I was fine
Just kiss me on my neck and breathe on my neck
I want somebody to walk up behind me
And kiss me on my neck and breathe on my neck
If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air
Don't abuse me
Cause these herbs are rare
If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air
Don't abuse me
Cause these herbs are rare
If you want too feel me baby
Better be divine
Bring me water for these flowers
Growing out my mind
Give me nothin' just be gentle
Breathe love in my air
Use me, don't abuse me, love me
Cause these herbs are rare
If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air
Don't abuse me
Cause these herbs are rare
If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air
Don't abuse me
Cause these herbs are rare
If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air
[...] Read more
song performed by Erykah Badu
Added by Lucian Velea
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Kiss Me On My Neck (Hesi)
I want somebody to walk up behind me
And kiss me on my neck and breathe on my neck
I want somebody to walk up behind me
And kiss me on my neck and breathe on my neck
Been such a long time
I forgot that I was fine
Just kiss me on my neck and breathe on my neck
I want somebody to walk up behind me
And kiss me on my neck and breathe on my neck
If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air
Don't abuse me
Cause these herbs are rare
If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air
Don't abuse me
Cause these herbs are rare
If you want too feel me baby
Better be divine
Bring me water for these flowers
Growing out my mind
Give me nothin' just be gentle
Breathe love in my air
Use me, don't abuse me, love me
Cause these herbs are rare
If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air
Don't abuse me
Cause these herbs are rare
If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air
Don't abuse me
Cause these herbs are rare
If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air
[...] Read more
song performed by Erykah Badu
Added by Lucian Velea
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XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Every Little Counts
Every second counts
When I am with you
I think you are a pig
You should be in a zoo
I guess I shouldve known
Id end up on my own
Every second counts when I am with you
Every second counts
Every little counts
When I am with you
You make me feel so good
I never felt so new
I saw you long ago
Though you never let it show
Every little counts when I am with you
Every little counts when I am with you
Every second counts
When I am with you
Even though youre stupid
I still follow you
The smile upon your face,
It always stays in place
Every second counts when I am with you
Every second counts when I am with you
Every second...
song performed by New Order
Added by Lucian Velea
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Up To My Neck In You
Well Ive been up to my neck in trouble
Up to my neck in strife
Up to my neck in misery
For most of my life
Ive been a fool
And you know what a fool can do
Im telling you
You came along when I needed you
Now Im up, Im up to my neck in you
And Ive been up to my neck in pleasure
Up to my neck in pain
Ive been up to my neck on the railroad track
Waitin for the train
To cruise on through
Well baby my time is due
Oh its way overdue
You came along and you pulled me through
Now Im up, up to my neck in you
Well Ive been up to my neck in whiskey
Ive been up to my neck in wine
Ive been up to my neck in wishing
That this neck wasnt mine
I was a loser
You werent lost
Baby you were too good, too good to be true
What youve got no one else could do
Now Im up, Im up to my neck in you
Yeah you came along when I needed you
Oh Im up to my neck in you
song performed by AC-DC
Added by Lucian Velea
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Each Others Throat
We are supposed to be sisters and brothers
But all we do is constantly dog one another
We are supposed to act as each others cover
But we keep at each others throat
Each others throat
Each others throat
Yo, it aint no joke
Were at each others throat -aowl, aowl
We are supposed to spread love and not evil
But weve been acting more like heathens than people
Treating our fellow-man far worse than illegal
Cause we keep at each others throat
Each others throat
Each others throat
Yo, it aint no joke
Were at each others throat -aowl, aowl
Ut oh, 11 oclock pm and heres the news
Another fatality caused by a family feud
Charged, tried, sentenced by the jury of a brothers gun
Made sisters fiancees wedding never to be sung
He didnt like the way he treated the girl
So the boy played god, pow, he ended his world
He made a plea for temporary insanity
But left his sister insane permanently
This aint new, this stuff happens everyday
Somebody doesnt like someone so they blow them away
Too fast for reason, too quick to negotiate
Regret and sorrow happens a split second too late
Jealousy for power, greed for possession
Selfishness so you give someone a faked out impression
Speaking of which Im truly not impressed
So if seeing is believin-i dont wanna see the mess
Heartless are we on the straight with no chaser
As if for negativity we got the vapors
Know as I love me so I do love my neighbor
Cause we are too busy at each others throat
Each others throat
Each others throat
Yo, it aint no joke
Were at each others throat -aowl, aowl
(repeat)
song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Gebir
FIRST BOOK.
I sing the fates of Gebir. He had dwelt
Among those mountain-caverns which retain
His labours yet, vast halls and flowing wells,
Nor have forgotten their old master's name
Though severed from his people here, incensed
By meditating on primeval wrongs,
He blew his battle-horn, at which uprose
Whole nations; here, ten thousand of most might
He called aloud, and soon Charoba saw
His dark helm hover o'er the land of Nile,
What should the virgin do? should royal knees
Bend suppliant, or defenceless hands engage
Men of gigantic force, gigantic arms?
For 'twas reported that nor sword sufficed,
Nor shield immense nor coat of massive mail,
But that upon their towering heads they bore
Each a huge stone, refulgent as the stars.
This told she Dalica, then cried aloud:
'If on your bosom laying down my head
I sobbed away the sorrows of a child,
If I have always, and Heaven knows I have,
Next to a mother's held a nurse's name,
Succour this one distress, recall those days,
Love me, though 'twere because you loved me then.'
But whether confident in magic rites
Or touched with sexual pride to stand implored,
Dalica smiled, then spake: 'Away those fears.
Though stronger than the strongest of his kind,
He falls-on me devolve that charge; he falls.
Rather than fly him, stoop thou to allure;
Nay, journey to his tents: a city stood
Upon that coast, they say, by Sidad built,
Whose father Gad built Gadir; on this ground
Perhaps he sees an ample room for war.
Persuade him to restore the walls himself
In honour of his ancestors, persuade -
But wherefore this advice? young, unespoused,
Charoba want persuasions! and a queen!'
'O Dalica!' the shuddering maid exclaimed,
'Could I encounter that fierce, frightful man?
Could I speak? no, nor sigh!'
'And canst thou reign?'
Cried Dalica; 'yield empire or comply.'
Unfixed though seeming fixed, her eyes downcast,
The wonted buzz and bustle of the court
From far through sculptured galleries met her ear;
Then lifting up her head, the evening sun
Poured a fresh splendour on her burnished throne-
[...] Read more
poem by Walter Savage Landor
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Tamar
I
A night the half-moon was like a dancing-girl,
No, like a drunkard's last half-dollar
Shoved on the polished bar of the eastern hill-range,
Young Cauldwell rode his pony along the sea-cliff;
When she stopped, spurred; when she trembled, drove
The teeth of the little jagged wheels so deep
They tasted blood; the mare with four slim hooves
On a foot of ground pivoted like a top,
Jumped from the crumble of sod, went down, caught, slipped;
Then, the quick frenzy finished, stiffening herself
Slid with her drunken rider down the ledges,
Shot from sheer rock and broke
Her life out on the rounded tidal boulders.
The night you know accepted with no show of emotion the little
accident; grave Orion
Moved northwest from the naked shore, the moon moved to
meridian, the slow pulse of the ocean
Beat, the slow tide came in across the slippery stones; it drowned
the dead mare's muzzle and sluggishly
Felt for the rider; Cauldwell’s sleepy soul came back from the
blind course curious to know
What sea-cold fingers tapped the walls of its deserted ruin.
Pain, pain and faintness, crushing
Weights, and a vain desire to vomit, and soon again
die icy fingers, they had crept over the loose hand and lay in the
hair now. He rolled sidewise
Against mountains of weight and for another half-hour lay still.
With a gush of liquid noises
The wave covered him head and all, his body
Crawled without consciousness and like a creature with no bones,
a seaworm, lifted its face
Above the sea-wrack of a stone; then a white twilight grew about
the moon, and above
The ancient water, the everlasting repetition of the dawn. You
shipwrecked horseman
So many and still so many and now for you the last. But when it
grew daylight
He grew quite conscious; broken ends of bone ground on each
other among the working fibers
While by half-inches he was drawing himself out of the seawrack
up to sandy granite,
Out of the tide's path. Where the thin ledge tailed into flat cliff
he fell asleep. . . .
Far seaward
The daylight moon hung like a slip of cloud against the horizon.
The tide was ebbing
From the dead horse and the black belt of sea-growth. Cauldwell
seemed to have felt her crying beside him,
[...] Read more
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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St. Dorothy
IT HATH been seen and yet it shall be seen
That out of tender mouths God’s praise hath been
Made perfect, and with wood and simple string
He hath played music sweet as shawm-playing
To please himself with softness of all sound;
And no small thing but hath been sometime found
Full sweet of use, and no such humbleness
But God hath bruised withal the sentences
And evidence of wise men witnessing;
No leaf that is so soft a hidden thing
It never shall get sight of the great sun;
The strength of ten has been the strength of one,
And lowliness has waxed imperious.
There was in Rome a man Theophilus
Of right great blood and gracious ways, that had
All noble fashions to make people glad
And a soft life of pleasurable days;
He was a goodly man for one to praise,
Flawless and whole upward from foot to head;
His arms were a red hawk that alway fed
On a small bird with feathers gnawed upon,
Beaten and plucked about the bosom-bone
Whereby a small round fleck like fire there was:
They called it in their tongue lampadias;
This was the banner of the lordly man.
In many straits of sea and reaches wan
Full of quick wind, and many a shaken firth,
It had seen fighting days of either earth,
Westward or east of waters Gaditane
(This was the place of sea-rocks under Spain
Called after the great praise of Hercules)
And north beyond the washing Pontic seas,
Far windy Russian places fabulous,
And salt fierce tides of storm-swoln Bosphorus.
Now as this lord came straying in Rome town
He saw a little lattice open down
And after it a press of maidens’ heads
That sat upon their cold small quiet beds
Talking, and played upon short-stringèd lutes;
And other some ground perfume out of roots
Gathered by marvellous moons in Asia;
Saffron and aloes and wild cassia,
Coloured all through and smelling of the sun;
And over all these was a certain one
Clothed softly, with sweet herbs about her hair
And bosom flowerful; her face more fair
Than sudden-singing April in soft lands:
Eyed like a gracious bird, and in both hands
[...] Read more
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Metamorphoses: Book The Sixth
PALLAS, attending to the Muse's song,
Approv'd the just resentment of their wrong;
And thus reflects: While tamely I commend
Those who their injur'd deities defend,
My own divinity affronted stands,
And calls aloud for justice at my hands;
Then takes the hint, asham'd to lag behind,
And on Arachne' bends her vengeful mind;
One at the loom so excellently skill'd,
That to the Goddess she refus'd to yield.
The Low was her birth, and small her native town,
Transformation She from her art alone obtain'd renown.
of Arachne Idmon, her father, made it his employ,
into a Spider To give the spungy fleece a purple dye:
Of vulgar strain her mother, lately dead,
With her own rank had been content to wed;
Yet she their daughter, tho' her time was spent
In a small hamlet, and of mean descent,
Thro' the great towns of Lydia gain'd a name,
And fill'd the neighb'ring countries with her fame.
Oft, to admire the niceness of her skill,
The Nymphs would quit their fountain, shade, or
hill:
Thither, from green Tymolus, they repair,
And leave the vineyards, their peculiar care;
Thither, from fam'd Pactolus' golden stream,
Drawn by her art, the curious Naiads came.
Nor would the work, when finish'd, please so much,
As, while she wrought, to view each graceful touch;
Whether the shapeless wool in balls she wound,
Or with quick motion turn'd the spindle round,
Or with her pencil drew the neat design,
Pallas her mistress shone in every line.
This the proud maid with scornful air denies,
And ev'n the Goddess at her work defies;
Disowns her heav'nly mistress ev'ry hour,
Nor asks her aid, nor deprecates her pow'r.
Let us, she cries, but to a tryal come,
And, if she conquers, let her fix my doom.
The Goddess then a beldame's form put on,
With silver hairs her hoary temples shone;
Prop'd by a staff, she hobbles in her walk,
And tott'ring thus begins her old wives' talk.
Young maid attend, nor stubbornly despise
The admonitions of the old, and wise;
For age, tho' scorn'd, a ripe experience bears,
That golden fruit, unknown to blooming years:
Still may remotest fame your labours crown,
And mortals your superior genius own;
But to the Goddess yield, and humbly meek
[...] Read more
Georgic 3
Thee too, great Pales, will I hymn, and thee,
Amphrysian shepherd, worthy to be sung,
You, woods and waves Lycaean. All themes beside,
Which else had charmed the vacant mind with song,
Are now waxed common. Of harsh Eurystheus who
The story knows not, or that praiseless king
Busiris, and his altars? or by whom
Hath not the tale been told of Hylas young,
Latonian Delos and Hippodame,
And Pelops for his ivory shoulder famed,
Keen charioteer? Needs must a path be tried,
By which I too may lift me from the dust,
And float triumphant through the mouths of men.
Yea, I shall be the first, so life endure,
To lead the Muses with me, as I pass
To mine own country from the Aonian height;
I, Mantua, first will bring thee back the palms
Of Idumaea, and raise a marble shrine
On thy green plain fast by the water-side,
Where Mincius winds more vast in lazy coils,
And rims his margent with the tender reed.
Amid my shrine shall Caesar's godhead dwell.
To him will I, as victor, bravely dight
In Tyrian purple, drive along the bank
A hundred four-horse cars. All Greece for me,
Leaving Alpheus and Molorchus' grove,
On foot shall strive, or with the raw-hide glove;
Whilst I, my head with stripped green olive crowned,
Will offer gifts. Even 'tis present joy
To lead the high processions to the fane,
And view the victims felled; or how the scene
Sunders with shifted face, and Britain's sons
Inwoven thereon with those proud curtains rise.
Of gold and massive ivory on the doors
I'll trace the battle of the Gangarides,
And our Quirinus' conquering arms, and there
Surging with war, and hugely flowing, the Nile,
And columns heaped on high with naval brass.
And Asia's vanquished cities I will add,
And quelled Niphates, and the Parthian foe,
Who trusts in flight and backward-volleying darts,
And trophies torn with twice triumphant hand
From empires twain on ocean's either shore.
And breathing forms of Parian marble there
Shall stand, the offspring of Assaracus,
And great names of the Jove-descended folk,
And father Tros, and Troy's first founder, lord
Of Cynthus. And accursed Envy there
Shall dread the Furies, and thy ruthless flood,
Cocytus, and Ixion's twisted snakes,
[...] Read more
poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
Added by Poetry Lover
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(Hide and seek)
My father gets the wooden stick
he counts from five
i run and hide...
My father is coming with the wooden stick
he counts from four
i close my bedroom door...
My father is looking for me with the wooden stick
he counts from three
as he searches for me...
My father is close by with the wooden stick
he counts from two
my face turns blue...
My father is right next to me
with the wooden stick
he counts from one
now i'm done...
My father finds me
with the wooden stick
he counts from zero
...yes i know, i'm in trouble...
My father says
'there you are!
i found you
now it's your turn to count
and my turn to hide'
...and the game continued...
poem by Allen Steble
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Right Where It Counts
Were alone in the room
Playin hexan and doom
And now youre tellin me goodbye
So you want us apart
That puts a knife in my heart
And a tear welling up in my eye
But let me remind you
How much you have been blind too
Youve totally changed me
Mixed me up, rearranged me
My hair how you like
Quit hangin with mike
And now you repay me
By tryin to slay me
I want you to know
That you hit me too low
And that I can barely breathe
If I told you that Im bleeding inside
Would you let me get off my knees
(chorus)
Right where it counts
Thats where you hit me
Right where it counts
Im on my knees
Right where it counts
Stop kicking me, please
Right where it counts
Cmon, cmon, yeah
Right where it counts
I used to play football
I once was a goofball
But you didnt like that
No, you didnt like that
The guys call me whipped
My popularity slipped
Because you just wanted a doormat
We shouldve been friends
And Id do it again
If you and I could get back
Back on the highway
I thought wed share our lives
Me husband, you wife
Now Im confused
And battered and Im bruised
Why are you so mean
Now your ruptured my spleen
And my lowest extremities
If we were alone
And your parents werent home
Id now a hundred obscenities
[...] Read more
song performed by 2gether
Added by Lucian Velea
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Time Will Call Your Name
Music : rudolf schenker
Lyrics: klaus meine
Theyre days that make you fly
Theyre days you wanna cry
Sometimes the walls come tumbling down
Theyre moments in the dark
When pain just floods your heart
And you surrender one more time
Just take a walk out in the rain
With every drop that falls
You know the sun will shine again
Theyre days youre naturally high
Theyre days you wanna die
Sometimes your world goes down in flames
Theyre moments deep in love
But when it breaks your heart
You just surrender one more time
Just take a walk out in the rain
With every step you make
You learn that life means constant change
Tomorrows all that counts
As life goes round n round
You gotta draw the line
Goodbye yesterday
Tomorrows all that counts
As life goes round n round
And if you keep the faith
Time will call your name
Take a walk out in the rain
With every breath you take
You feel your soul is free again
Tomorrows all that counts
As life goes round n round
You gotta draw the line
Goodbye yesterday
Tomorrows all that counts
As life goes round n round
And if you keep the faith
Time will call your name
Tomorrows all that counts
As life goes round n round
You gotta draw the line
Goodbye yesterday
Tomorrows all that counts
As life goes round n round
And if you keep the faith
Time will call your name
song performed by Scorpions
Added by Lucian Velea
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Daft
In the warm yellow smile of the morning,
She stands at the lattice pane,
And watches the strong young binders
Stride down to the fields of grain.
And she counts them over and over
As they pass her cottage door:
Are they six, she counts them seven;
Are they seven, she counts one more.
When the sun swings high in the heavens,
And the reapers go shouting home,
She calls to the household, saying,
'Make haste! for the binders have come
And Johnnie will want his dinner -
He was always a hungry child';
And they answer, 'Yes, it ia waiting';
Then tell you, 'Her brain is wild.'
Again, in the hush of the evening,
When the work of the day is done,
And the binders go singing homeward
In the last red rays of the sun,
She will sit at the threshold waiting,
And with her withered face lights with joy:
'Come, Johnnie, ' she says, as they pass her,
'Come into the house, my boy.'
Five summers ago her Johnnie
Went out in the smile of the morn,
Singing across the meadow,
Striding down through the corn -
He towered above the binders,
Walking on either side,
And the mother's heart within her
Swelled with exultant pride.
For he was the light of the household -
His brown eyes were wells of truth,
And his face was the face of the morning,
Lit with its pure, fresh youth,
And his song rang out from the hilltops
Like the mellow blast of a horn,
And he strode o'er the fresh shorn meadows,
And down through the rows of corn.
But hushed were the voices of singing,
Hushed by the presence of death,
As back to the cottage they bore him -
In the noontide's scorching breath,
For the heat of the sun had slain him,
[...] Read more
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Memories of the Greater Good
Get out of the way.
Just let me take the bullet for you.
One mistake
That is all it takes.
Then it all over.
Waking up sober.
The reality.
Get ready.
Hold on to my cape.
Let me give you my escape.
Go before it's to late.
Don't look back.
Their is not time to second guess.
Just react.
The rain washes all these thoughts away.
I was just looking into another photograph in a my album.
The memories have each their own little sound.
As a bird chips in a melody.
So do these great harmony.
They're you were.
Sitting by the pool all alone.
So I just went right up and started talking to you.
Breaking the ice with a smile.
I had no since of style.
The shyness I fought through.
The fog moved.
So focused on getting to the bottom of what was wrong.
What was this pretty attractive young girl moping around for.
Then I met him.
And It all became so clear.
The face of many beings.
Each a different narcissist.
A falling out, the had already been spread.
It started to grow.
It started to sprout.
Peeking it ugly head out of the ground.
The rain washes all these thoughts away.
I was just looking into another photograph in a my album.
The memories have each their own little sound.
As a bird chips in a melody.
So do these great harmony.
It was too late things were put into motion.
With love as my devotion.
I made a sacrifice, the first of many.
I took a dive and let him beat the hell out of me.
For I was smart enough to know what would happen next.
[...] Read more
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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The Young Man
(in answer to Elisabeth Eybers)
Under the shower her man is soaking wet
where she wraps her arms around him
and around him water splashes.
His skin is soft under her hands,
she washes down his spine
and she almost slips, are against him
and the floor of the shower is slippery
when she moves still closer to him.
Under the shower her man is soaking wet
and he smiles softly with white shining teeth,
she can feel his muscles tightening with power,
she washes down his spine
and when she slips, she has to move her grip on him,
with water flowing over both of them
and around him water splashes.
and he stops her from falling, grabs her with power
and she washes down his upper leg,
she can feel his muscles tightening with power
and the floor is slippery but flat
and she wonders from where his manly power comes?
Under the shower her man is soaking wet
and she washes him as low as every heel,
her fingers grips
and she washes down his upper leg
and his chest hairs are smudged black
and his gaze is full of lust without any suspicion
and around him water splashes.
over his arms, his strong rib cage
She sees his member tightening, totally set
her fingers grips
where suddenly takes him
looking at him with conceit.
Under the shower her man is soaking wet
and around him water splashes
and his smile almost swallows her and it’s bold,
his skin is soft under her hands,
she sees his member tightening, totally set
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
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Give Your Heart To The Hawks
1 he apples hung until a wind at the equinox,
That heaped the beach with black weed, filled the dry grass
Under the old trees with rosy fruit.
In the morning Fayne Fraser gathered the sound ones into a
basket,
The bruised ones into a pan. One place they lay so thickly
She knelt to reach them.
Her husband's brother passing
Along the broken fence of the stubble-field,
His quick brown eyes took in one moving glance
A little gopher-snake at his feet flowing through the stubble
To gain the fence, and Fayne crouched after apples
With her mop of red hair like a glowing coal
Against the shadow in the garden. The small shapely reptile
Flowed into a thicket of dead thistle-stalks
Around a fence-post, but its tail was not hidden.
The young man drew it all out, and as the coil
Whipped over his wrist, smiled at it; he stepped carefully
Across the sag of the wire. When Fayne looked up
His hand was hidden; she looked over her shoulder
And twitched her sunburnt lips from small white teeth
To answer the spark of malice in his eyes, but turned
To the apples, intent again. Michael looked down
At her white neck, rarely touched by the sun,
But now the cinnabar-colored hair fell off from it;
And her shoulders in the light-blue shirt, and long legs like a boy's
Bare-ankled in blue-jean trousers, the country wear;
He stooped quietly and slipped the small cool snake
Up the blue-denim leg. Fayne screamed and writhed,
Clutching her thigh. 'Michael, you beast.' She stood up
And stroked her leg, with little sharp cries, the slender invader
Fell down her ankle.
Fayne snatched for it and missed;
Michael stood by rejoicing, his rather small
Finely cut features in a dance of delight;
Fayne with one sweep flung at his face
All the bruised and half-spoiled apples in the pan,
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poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Pharsalia - Book IV: Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea. Death Of Curio.
But in the distant regions of the earth
Fierce Caesar warring, though in fight he dealt
No baneful slaughter, hastened on the doom
To swift fulfillment. There on Magnus' side
Afranius and Petreius held command,
Who ruled alternate, and the rampart guard
Obeyed the standard of each chief in turn.
There with the Romans in the camp were joined
Asturians swift, and Vettons lightly armed,
And Celts who, exiled from their ancient home,
Had joined 'Iberus' to their former name.
Where the rich soil in gentle slope ascends
And forms a modest hill, Ilerda stands,
Founded in ancient days; beside her glides
Not least of western rivers, Sicoris
Of placid current, by a mighty arch
Of stone o'erspanned, which not the winter floods
Shall overwhelm. Upon a rock hard by
Was Magnus' camp; but Caesar's on a hill,
Rivalling the first; and in the midst a stream.
Here boundless plains are spread beyond the range
Of human vision; Cinga girds them in
With greedy waves; forbidden to contend
With tides of ocean; for that larger flood
Who names the land, Iberus, sweeps along
The lesser stream commingled with his own.
Guiltless of war, the first day saw the hosts
In long array confronted; standard rose
Opposing standard, numberless; yet none
Essayed attack, in shame of impious strife.
One day they gave their country and her laws.
But Caesar, when from heaven fell the night,
Drew round a hasty trench; his foremost rank
With close array concealing those who wrought.
Then with the morn he bids them seize the hill
Which parted from the camp Ilerda's walls,
And gave them safety. But in fear and shame
On rushed the foe and seized the vantage ground,
First in the onset. From the height they held
Their hopes of conquest; but to Caesar's men
Their hearts by courage stirred, and their good swords
Promised the victory. Burdened up the ridge
The soldier climbed, and from the opposing steep
But for his comrade's shield had fallen back;
None had the space to hurl the quivering lance
Upon the foeman: spear and pike made sure
The failing foothold, and the falchion's edge
Hewed out their upward path. But Caesar saw
Ruin impending, and he bade his horse
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poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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Roan Stallion
The dog barked; then the woman stood in the doorway, and hearing
iron strike stone down the steep road
Covered her head with a black shawl and entered the light rain;
she stood at the turn of the road.
A nobly formed woman; erect and strong as a new tower; the
features stolid and dark
But sculptured into a strong grace; straight nose with a high bridge,
firm and wide eyes, full chin,
Red lips; she was only a fourth part Indian; a Scottish sailor had
planted her in young native earth,
Spanish and Indian, twenty-one years before. He had named her
California when she was born;
That was her name; and had gone north.
She heard the hooves and
wheels come nearer, up the steep road.
The buckskin mare, leaning against the breastpiece, plodded into
sight round the wet bank.
The pale face of the driver followed; the burnt-out eyes; they had
fortune in them. He sat twisted
On the seat of the old buggy, leading a second horse by a long
halter, a roan, a big one,
That stepped daintily; by the swell of the neck, a stallion. 'What
have you got, Johnny?' 'Maskerel's stallion.
Mine now. I won him last night, I had very good luck.' He was
quite drunk, 'They bring their mares up here now.
I keep this fellow. I got money besides, but I'll not show you.'
'Did you buy something, Johnny,
For our Christine? Christmas comes in two days, Johnny.' 'By
God, forgot,' he answered laughing.
'Don't tell Christine it's Christmas; after while I get her something,
maybe.' But California:
'I shared your luck when you lost: you lost me once, Johnny, remember?
Tom Dell had me two nights
Here in the house: other times we've gone hungry: now that
you've won, Christine will have her Christmas.
We share your luck, Johnny. You give me money, I go down to
Monterey to-morrow,
Buy presents for Christine, come back in the evening. Next day
Christmas.' 'You have wet ride,' he answered
Giggling. 'Here money. Five dollar; ten; twelve dollar. You
buy two bottles of rye whiskey for Johnny.'
A11 right. I go to-morrow.'
He was an outcast Hollander; not
old, but shriveled with bad living.
The child Christine inherited from his race blue eyes, from his
life a wizened forehead; she watched
From the house-door her father lurch out of the buggy and lead
with due respect the stallion
To the new corral, the strong one; leaving the wearily breathing
buckskin mare to his wife to unharness.
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poem by Robinson Jeffers
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