I got out of college in 1997, and TV embraced me very quickly.
quote by Elisabeth Rohm
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[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Those Who Go To College
Those who go to college,
Should decide with a clear knowledge...
What it is,
They hope from it to get.
And those who go to college,
Should decide with a clear knowledge...
What it is,
They hope for them benefits.
So many drift in dreams,
Have no clue what it is they want.
But party just to congregate in hallways,
Just to flaunt...
A getting into college but afraid to polish up,
And succeed.
'Not me.'
Those who go to college,
Should decide with a clear knowledge...
What it is,
They hope from it to get.
And those who go to college,
Should decide with a clear knowledge...
What it is,
They hope for them benefits.
So many drift in dreams,
Have no clue what it is they want.
But party just to congregate in hallways,
Just to flaunt...
A getting into college but afraid to polish up,
And succeed.
'I got in college! '
But...
Are you there in college just to party,
Or to polish and succeed?
'I got in college! '
But...
Are you there in college just to party,
Or to polish and succeed?
Since many are in college,
Just to party and to get a degree.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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poem by Caasder Fronds
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College Kids
Someone please save us, us college kids!
What my parents told me is what I did
They said go to school and be a college kid
But in the end I question why I did
Im poor, Im starving, Im flat broke, Ive got no cash to spend
Sell all my books for front row tickets to dave matthews band
My girlfriends at another school, I know this year will test her
I called, found out she had three other boyfriends last semester
And thats why I say
Oh no! not for me, not for me
Call it torture, call it university
No! arts and crafts is all I need
Ill take calligraphy and then Ill make a fake degree
80 grand later I found out that all that I had learned
Is that you should show up to take your finals and your midterms
The party scene is kinda mean, I think its sick and twisted
The navy showed up at my dorm and claimed that I enlisted
And thats why I say
Oh no! not for me, not for me
Call it torture, call it university
No! arts and crafts is all I need
Ill take calligraphy and then Ill make a fake degree
Dont get excited. shell say no without a doubt you see
And Ive decided college girls just wont go out with me
They make me nervous and they always catch me off my guard
Like cell phone services I drop out cause college is too hard
Its time to call my father
Cause its his alma mater
Good grades arent what they seem
I think he knows the dean
Its time to call my father
Cause its his alma mater
He says hes proud of me
But college always was his dream
And I would always say its not for me
Oh no! not for me, not for me
Call it torture, call it university
No! arts and crafts is all I need
Ill take calligraphy and then Ill make a fake degree
Someone please save us, us college kids!
What my parents told me is what I did
They said go to school and be a college kid
But in the end I question why I did
Do what will make you happy
Do what you feel is right
Only but one thing matters
Learn how to live your life
[in background:]
(phi, beta, delta, cappa
Someone please save us, us college kids!
[...] Read more
song performed by Relient K
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Inauguration of the University College
Good people of Dundee, your voices raise,
And to Miss Baxter give great praise;
Rejoice and sing and dance with glee,
Because she has founded a College in Bonnie Dundee.
Therefore loudly in her praise sing,
And make Dundee with your voices ring,
And give honour to whom honour is due,
Because ladies like her are very few.
'Twas on the 5th day of October, in the year of 1883,
That the University College was opened in Dundee,
And the opening proceedings were conducted in the College Hall,
In the presence of ladies and gentlemen both great and small.
Worthy Provost Moncur presided over the meeting,
And received very great greeting;
And Professor Stuart made an eloquent speech there,
And also Lord Dalhousie, I do declare.
Also, the Right Hon W. E. Baxter was there on behalf of his aunt,
And acknowledged her beautiful portrait without any rant,
And said that she requested him to hand it over to the College,
As an incentive to others to teach the ignorant masses knowledge,
Success to Miss Baxter, and praise to the late Doctor Baxter, John Boyd,
For I think the Dundonians ought to feel overjoyed
For their munificent gifts to the town of Dundee,
Which will cause their names to be handed down to posterity.
The College is most handsome and magnificent to be seen,
And Dundee can now almost cope with Edinburgh or Aberdeen,
For the ladies of Dundee can now learn useful knowledge
By going to their own beautiful College.
I hope the ladies and gentlemen of Dundee will try and learn knowledge
At home in Dundee in their nice little College,
Because knowledge is sweeter than honey or jam,
Therefore let them try and gain knowledge as quick as they can.
It certainly is a great boon and an honour to Dundee
To have a College in our midst, which is most charming to see,
All through Miss Baxter and the late Dr Baxter, John Boyd,
Which I hope by the people of Dundee will long be enjoyed
Now since Miss Baxter has lived to see it erected,
I hope by the students she will long be respected
For establishing a College in Bonnie Dundee,
Where learning can be got of a very high degree.
[...] Read more
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Party Of God
[ billy bragg and natalie merchant ]
In a busy street
A man sits down
Oblivious to the traffic sounds
No chaos
No frenzied shrieking crowd
Thank God their silence
Walking heads bent down
Come when they saw us
Called it lethargy
The treadmill turns
There down below their feet
Should I pray for an end to come
Quickly (quickly), quickly (quickly)
Or cross the waves of an angry sea
Risking (risking)
And braving (braving)
The shipwreck and the mutiny assailing
Assailing
In a haunted doorway
And from the light of day
See another life fall to ruin in pain
False smiles from even children it seems
Landlocked ground for empty and lost dreams
A league against me
I hear him say
Its not worth half the effort
Or the price you pay
Should I pray for an end to come
Quickly (quickly), quickly (quickly)
Or should I raise my face to the heavens above
And tell God (dear God)
Stop jeering (and jeering)
As our human frailties and all
Our failings
Are we failing?
Pound pound on an endless street
Again and again the nightmare scene
All strained against the tightened rope
Not one with a lasting lingering hope
Theres evidence everywhere you see
Put a quarter down at the newsstand
So that you can read
Should I pray for an end to come
Quickly (quickly), quickly (quickly)
Or should I raise my face to the clouds above
Entreating (entreating)
Their mercy (some mercy)
But as clouds will do
Theyll rain down
[...] Read more
song performed by 10000 Maniacs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Forgive Me Quickly
If I showed you what you don't know,
Would I suffer...
If I listened to your life of misfortune?
If I showed you what you don't know,
Would you show me what I thought I knew?
If I showed you what you don't know,
Would I suffer...
If I listened to your life of misfortune?
Would I stop myself and realize...
Your life aint easy breezy.
Would you find it in your mind you'd be assessing me?
Or would you find it in your mind the need to forgive me,
Quickly!
Would I stop myself and realize...
Your life aint easy breezy.
Would you find it in your mind you'd be assessing me?
Or would you find it in your mind the need to forgive me,
Quickly!
Forgive me quickly!
Would you find it in your mind the need to forgive me,
Quickly!
Forgive me quickly!
Would you find it in your mind,
The need...
To forgive me,
Quickly!
Would you find it in your mind you'd be assessing me?
Or would you find it in your mind the need to forgive me,
Quickly!
Forgive me quickly!
Would you find it in your mind the need to forgive me,
Quickly!
Forgive me quickly!
Would you find it in your mind,
The need...
To forgive me,
Quickly!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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poem by Caasder Fronds
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The Lawyer’s First Tale: Primitiæ or Third Cousins
I
‘Dearest of boys, please come to-day,
Papa and mama have bid me say,
They hope you’ll dine with us at three;
They will be out till then, you see,
But you will start at once, you know,
And come as fast as you can go.
Next week they hope you’ll come and stay
Some time before you go away.
Dear boy, how pleasant it will be,
Ever your dearest Emily!’
Twelve years of age was I, and she
Fourteen, when thus she wrote to me,
A schoolboy, with an uncle spending
My holidays, then nearly ending.
My uncle lived the mountain o’er,
A rector, and a bachelor;
The vicarage was by the sea,
That was the home of Emily:
The windows to the front looked down
Across a single-streeted town,
Far as to where Worms-head was seen,
Dim with ten watery miles between;
The Carnedd mountains on the right
With stony masses filled the sight;
To left the open sea; the bay
In a blue plain before you lay.
A garden, full of fruit, extends,
Stone-walled, above the house, and ends
With a locked door, that by a porch
Admits to churchyard and to church;
Farm-buildings nearer on one side,
And glebe, and then the countrywide.
I and my cousin Emily
Were cousins in the third degree;
My mother near of kin was reckoned
To hers, who was my mother’s second:
My cousinship I held from her.
Such an amount of girls there were,
At first one really was perplexed:
’Twas Patty first, and Lydia next,
And Emily the third, and then,
Philippa, Phoebe, Mary Gwen.
Six were they, you perceive, in all;
And portraits fading on the wall,
Grandmothers, heroines of old,
And aunts of aunts, with scrolls that told
Their names and dates, were there to show
Why these had all been christened so.
[...] Read more
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough from Mari Magno or Tales on Board
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Lawyer’s Second Tale: Christian
A highland inn among the western hills,
A single parlour, single bed that fills
With fisher or with tourist, as may be;
A waiting-maid. as fair as you can see,
With hazel eyes, and frequent blushing face,
And ample brow, and with a rustic grace
In all her easy quiet motions seen,
Large of her age, which haply is nineteen,
Christian her name, in full a pleasant name,
Christian and Christie scarcely seem the same;
A college fellow, who has sent away
The pupils he has taught for many a day,
And comes for fishing and for solitude,
Perhaps a little pensive in his mood,
An aspiration and a thought have failed,
Where he had hoped, another has prevailed,
But to the joys of hill and stream alive,
And in his boyhood yet, at twenty-five.
A merry dance, that made young people meet,
And set them moving, both with hands and feet;
A dance in which he danced, and nearer knew
The soft brown eyes, and found them tender too.
A dance that lit in two young hearts the fire,
The low soft flame, of loving sweet desire,
And made him feel that he could feel again;
The preface this, what follows to explain.
That night he kissed, he held her in his arms,
And felt the subtle virtue of her charms;
Nor less bewildered on the following day,
He kissed, he found excuse near her to stay,
Was it not love? And yet the truth to speak,
Playing the fool for haply half a week,
He yet had fled, so strong within him dwelt
The horror of the sin, and such he felt
The miseries to the woman that ensue.
He wearied long his brain with reasonings fine,
But when at evening dusk he came to dine,
In linsey petticoat and jacket blue
She stood, so radiant and so modest too,
All into air his strong conclusions flew.
Now should he go. But dim and drizzling too,
For a night march, to-night will hardly do,
A march of sixteen weary miles of way.
No, by the chances which our lives obey,
No, by the Heavens and this sweet face, he’ll stay.
A week he stayed, and still was loth to go,
But she grew anxious and would have it so.
Her time of service shortly would be o’er,
And she would leave; her mistress knew before.
[...] Read more
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough from Mari Magno or Tales on Board
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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On The Pleasures Of College Life
With tears I leave these academic bowers,
And cease to cull the scientific flowers;
With tears I hail the fair succeeding train,
And take my exit with a breast of pain.
The Fresh may trace these wonders as they smile;
The stream of science like the river Nile,
Reflecting mental beauties as it flows,
Which all the charms of College life disclose;
This sacred current as it runs refines,
Whilst Byron sings and Shakspeare's mirror shines.
First like a garden flower did I rise,
When on the college bloom I cast my eyes;
I strove to emulate each smiling gem,
Resolved to wear the classic diadem;
But when the Freshman's garden breeze was gone;
Around me spread a vast extensive lawn;
'Twas there the muse of college life begun,
Beneath the rays of erudition's sun,
Where study drew the mystic focus down,
And lit the lamp of nature with renown;
There first I heard the epic thunders roll,
And Homer's light'ning darted through my soul.
Hard was the task to trace each devious line,
Though Locke and Newton bade me soar and shine;
I sunk beneath the heat of Franklin's blaze,
And struck the notes of philosophic praise;
With timid thought I strove the test to stand,
Reclining on a cultivated land,
Which often spread beneath a college bower,
And thus invoked the intellectual shower;
E'en that fond sire on whose depilous crown,
The smile of courts and states shall shed renown;
Now far above the noise of country strife,
I frown upon the gloom of rustic life,
Where no pure stream of bright distinction flows,
No mark between the thistle and the rose;
One's like a bird encaged and bare of food,
Borne by the fowler from his native wood,
Where sprightly oft he sprung from spray to spray,
And cheer'd the forest with his artless lay,
Or fluttered o'er the purling brook at will,
Sung in the dale or soar'd above the hill.
Such are the liberal charms of college life,
Where pleasure flows without a breeze of strife;
And such would be my pain if cast away,
Without the blooms of study to display.
Beware, ye college birds, again beware,
And shun the fowler with his subtile snare;
[...] Read more
poem by George Moses Horton
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Love Comes Quickly
Sooner or later, this happens to everyone
To everyone
You can live your life lonely
Heavy as stone
Live your life learning
And working alone
Say this is all you want
But I dont believe that its true
cause when you least expect it
Waiting round the corner for you
Love comes quickly, whatever you do
You cant stop falling (ooh ooh)
Love comes quickly, whatever you do
You cant stop falling (ooh ooh)
You can live a life of luxury
If thats what you want
Taste forbidden pleasures
Whatever you want
You can fly away to the end of the world
But where does it get you to?
cause just when you least expect it
Just what you least expect
Love comes quickly, whatever you do
You cant stop falling (ooh ooh)
Love comes quickly, whatever you do
You cant stop falling (ooh ooh)
I know it sounds ridiculous, but speaking from experience
It may seem romantic, and thats no defense
Love will always get to you
Sooner or later, sooner or later, this happens to everyone
To everyone
You can fly away to the end of the world
But where does it get you?
Love comes quickly, whatever you do
You cant stop falling (ooh ooh)
Love comes quickly, whatever you do
You cant stop falling (ooh ooh)
Love comes quickly, whatever you do
You cant stop falling (ooh ooh)
(oooh)
Love comes quickly, whatever you do
You cant stop falling (ooh ooh)
Love comes quickly, whatever you do
You cant stop falling (ooh ooh)
song performed by Pet Shop Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Soboba
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[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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A Vision of a Wrangler, of a University, of Pedantry, and of Philosophy
Deep St. Mary's bell had sounded,
And the twelve notes gently rounded
Endless chimneys that surrounded
My abode in Trinity.
(Letter G, Old Court, South Attics),
I shut up my mathematics,
That confounded hydrostatics --
Sink it in the deepest sea!
In the grate the flickering embers
Served to show how dull November’s
Fogs had stamped my torpid members,
Like a plucked and skinny goose.
And as I prepared for bed, I
Asked myself with voice unsteady,
If of all the stuff I read, I
Ever made the slightest use.
Late to bed and early rising,
Ever luxury despising,
Ever training, never "sizing,"
I have suffered with the rest.
Yellow cheek and forehead ruddy,
Memory confused and muddy,
These are the effects of study
Of a subject so unblest.
Look beyond, and see the wrangler,
Now become a College dangler,
Court some spiritual angler,
Nibbling at his golden bait.
Hear him silence restive Reason,
Her advice is out of season,
While her lord is plotting treason
Gainst himself, and Church or State.
See him next with place and pension,
And the very best intention
Of upholding that Convention
Under which his fortunes rose.
Every scruple is rejected,
With his cherished schemes connected,
"Higher Powers may be neglected --
His result no further goes."
Much he lauds the education
Which has raised to lofty station,
Men, whose powers of calculation
Calculation’s self defied.
How the learned fool would wonder
[...] Read more
poem by James Clerk Maxwell
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Cambridge
Cambridge is Brueghel's Village come to life
Warren of Gothic windows, red brick walls
Eating, laughing, drinking on the streets
Visitors throng the eateries and halls
Ring Toni's Ice cream van and market stalls
See there, a wattle fence, a low thatched roof
Clipped cleanly as a tonsured, shiny friar!
Ale houses, colleges, and grazing cows
All line the River Cam, by College spire
Daffodils, aconites, anemones,
Swans gliding up to punts along the backs
Sun dappled bridges, lazy, languid days
The splash of water raised by oar smacks
A cycling city, all the world is here
Queen's College, where Erasmus came to teach
Labelling local girls ‘the kissing kind'
Oh, Youth's the time to suck life like a peach
John Harvard, an Emmanuel graduate
Son of a Southwark butcher, crossed the seas
Funding a college in the Pilgrim World
His name, his library, success's keys
Magdalene College houses Pepys's diary
Christ's College boasts bee-hives, a mulberry tree
That shaded Milton as he wrote his poems
None could compose so powerfully as he
Corpus Christi holds King Alfred's book
The Anglo Saxon Chronicle and Psalter
Once owned by Thomas Becket, martyred man,
Murdered within the sight of holy altar
The College of St John set on the Cam
Beside the Bridge of Sighs, has a Great Gate
With mythic beasts. Three saints attended
Here, along with bishops and great heads of state
Nobel Prize winners, Huxton, Bragg, et al
Came up to Trinity, and that bête noire,
Lord Byron, kept his pet bear Bruin here
Down in the stables, poetry's dark star
And the rain falls out of the Heavens
And sparkles, with sun distilled
Like the thoughts of the Cambridge scholars
Who the Book of Knowledge has filled
poem by Sheena Blackhall
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Crippled by Knowledge
The wayward way of thinking has always been: “Son, I want you to go to college, graduate with a degree so you will have the education to secure a well-paying job. You know back in my day, I was able to go to college, so I want to make sure you have every opportunity to! ”
The inevitable downfall: The rise in college tuition, along with the decrease in federal aid for working middle class families’, students and their parents are placed under enormous pressure in paying back mass amounts of student loan debt.
The vicious cycles remains: Parents could not afford college for themselves ' Parents want better for their kids ' Parents struggle daily and sacrifice their home, their livelihood to ensure their child will have the opportunity at a college education ' Casting a dark cloud over the excitement of their child’s graduation - Four years in a state school and one bachelors degree later ' Parents are faced with a $500 a month student loan payment ' Their son will begin paying on his portion of the loan next month.
The pleasures in being a working middle class family in today’s society. Parents who in the course of hard work and determination established careers with little to no higher education, providing and making the ends meet. Nevertheless, no tuition grants or federal aid for their hopeful first generation college student. “Son, we make too much money for you to qualify for grants. I know who would think a daily struggle is equivalent to making too much money. It is simply loans for us, and I'm not sure we can afford the $568 a month payment. I guess we will manage like we always have. I sure didn't foresee this worry and grief when I just wanted better for you.'
His son, an elementary school teacher in a low-socioeconomic urban school district has hopes that each and every child in his classroom will have the opportunity to pursue higher education. Thoughts of his monthly struggle on a state teacher’s salary to make ends meet and pay back his student loans, escape him every time he walks into the classroom full of young minds craving to learn.
The children we raise and educate today are the minds that will drive our society into the 21-century. Must you realize you are sacrificing the well-being our nation and placing the future of our society in jeopardy to only have history repeat itself. Senators, congressmen, lawyers and lobbyists almost certainly would not have had the opportunity to be where they are now without the support and devotion of their underpaid and overworked school teachers. Everyday leaders such as school teachers and their hard working families do not deserve the crippling burden of outrageous monthly student loan payments when the end goal is to simply further their education in order to influence and guide the society that will lead our nation’s future.
If educators take a primary role in being the driving force behind a society of accountable well-informed people; I can only help to wonder if serving in our nation’s military can pay back student loans, why can’t serving in our nation’s classrooms pay back student loans.
© 2010 April Michelle
poem by April Michelle
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Death & Fame
When I die
I don't care what happens to my body
throw ashes in the air, scatter 'em in East River
bury an urn in Elizabeth New Jersey, B'nai Israel Cemetery
But l want a big funeral
St. Patrick's Cathedral, St. Mark's Church, the largest synagogue in
Manhattan
First, there's family, brother, nephews, spry aged Edith stepmother
96, Aunt Honey from old Newark,
Doctor Joel, cousin Mindy, brother Gene one eyed one ear'd, sister-
in-law blonde Connie, five nephews, stepbrothers & sisters
their grandchildren,
companion Peter Orlovsky, caretakers Rosenthal & Hale, Bill Morgan--
Next, teacher Trungpa Vajracharya's ghost mind, Gelek Rinpoche,
there Sakyong Mipham, Dalai Lama alert, chance visiting
America, Satchitananda Swami
Shivananda, Dehorahava Baba, Karmapa XVI, Dudjom Rinpoche,
Katagiri & Suzuki Roshi's phantoms
Baker, Whalen, Daido Loorie, Qwong, Frail White-haired Kapleau
Roshis, Lama Tarchen --
Then, most important, lovers over half-century
Dozens, a hundred, more, older fellows bald & rich
young boys met naked recently in bed, crowds surprised to see each
other, innumerable, intimate, exchanging memories
"He taught me to meditate, now I'm an old veteran of the thousand
day retreat --"
"I played music on subway platforms, I'm straight but loved him he
loved me"
"I felt more love from him at 19 than ever from anyone"
"We'd lie under covers gossip, read my poetry, hug & kiss belly to belly
arms round each other"
"I'd always get into his bed with underwear on & by morning my
skivvies would be on the floor"
"Japanese, always wanted take it up my bum with a master"
"We'd talk all night about Kerouac & Cassady sit Buddhalike then
sleep in his captain's bed."
"He seemed to need so much affection, a shame not to make him happy"
"I was lonely never in bed nude with anyone before, he was so gentle my
stomach
shuddered when he traced his finger along my abdomen nipple to hips-- "
"All I did was lay back eyes closed, he'd bring me to come with mouth
& fingers along my waist"
"He gave great head"
So there be gossip from loves of 1948, ghost of Neal Cassady commin-
gling with flesh and youthful blood of 1997
and surprise -- "You too? But I thought you were straight!"
"I am but Ginsberg an exception, for some reason he pleased me."
"I forgot whether I was straight gay queer or funny, was myself, tender
and affectionate to be kissed on the top of my head,
my forehead throat heart & solar plexus, mid-belly. on my prick,
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poem by Allen Ginsberg
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Against Stale Current
Essential is it to unite
to pressing questions answers which
may open roads to knowledge, might
prepare fulfillment shared and rich.
Unused to being understood,
his insight into others bores,
the trees he sees, ignores not wood
nor would - for blinkers he abhors.
A sense of purpose has withstood
positions frozen, - chosen doors
open on mission, inner good
opposing pride and rotten cores.
Against stale 'current', with hale stream
of light and life he'd soar serene,
is it surprising that such gleam
untouched remains, unshared.
(25 December 1997 robi03_0859_robi03_0000 XXX_JXX)
Lonely One Wanders
Lonely, one wanders through cowed crowd,
awaiting some supportive rays,
with warmth, complicity endowed -
beamed circlet lighthouse dream replays.
Absent present, head in cloud,
through surface calm true strength displays
both strong emotions, soul unbowed,
balm soothing offers, hope relays.
One threads paths strange, by most unploughed,
transforming fallow fields in ways
astonishing to assets vowed
as fertile, fruitfulness which stays
abundant, want, waste disavowed.
Prosperity which rich repays
time, trouble, taken, cries aloud
for friendship solitude allays.
Perception, seldom understood,
with insight into others bores,
trees, wood unsawed seen, both bad, good,
subjective blinkers lack bed, board.
Enlightenment misdeeds withstood,
to ploughshare turns destructive sword,
should’s soon converted into would,
hermit crabbiness abhorred.
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Do Re Mi
DO RE MI FA SO LA TI DO
anagram
DO I FORMALISE, DOAT?
Mind finds through magic interface
enchantment in soft smile whose grace
leaves senses reeling into space.
Form, face, inspires as, in disgrace,
Time disappears, and in its place
all doubts dissolved, we solve life’s chase.
Mingling, jingling, words may trace
cheer and charm which interlace
heart with heart, - no commonplace
encounter doubles pulse rate race.
It sudden seems, in any case,
prismatic colour tones replace
monochrome monochord most embrace
12 June 1997 revised 1 October 2005
robi03_0844_robi03_0000 SXX_LMX
For previous version see below
See also Musical Anagram Riddle
24 November 2006 revised 7 February 20090207 robi03_1511_robi03_0000 QSW_MXX
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
DO I FORMALISE, DOAT?
anagram
DO RE MI FA SO LA TI DO
Has music found fresh form and face
Enchanting in a smile whose grace
Leaves senses reeling into space?
Each note breathes light as, in disgrace,
Now Time departs, and in its place
Eternity all doubts does chase.
So, as a mirror, words here trace
Cheer whose charm may interlace
Heart with heart, - no commonplace
Magic doubles pulse rate race!
It sudden seems, in any case,
That rainbow colours may replace
The black and white our lives embrace!
12 June 1997
Poem © Jonathan Robin Do Re Mi Fa So La Ti Do
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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