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The study of an idea is, of necessity, the story of many things.

quote by Willy Ley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Down By The Riverside

(public domain)
Im gonna lay down my burden, down by the riverside,
Down by the riverside, down by the riverside
Im gonna lay down my burden, down by the riverside,
Im gonna study war no more
I aint a gonna study war no more, I aint a gonna study war no more
I aint a gonna study war no more, I aint a gonna study war no more
I aint a gonna study war no more, I aint a gonna study war no more
Well, Im gonna put on my long white robe, (where? ) down by the riverside (oh)
Down by the riverside, down by the riverside
Im gonna put on my long white robe, (where? ) down by the riverside
Im gonna study war no more
I aint a gonna study war no more, I aint a gonna study war no more
I aint a gonna study war no more, I aint a gonna study war no more
I aint a gonna study war no more, I aint a gonna study war no more
Well, Im gonna lay down my sword and shield, (where? ) down by the riverside
Down by the riverside, down by the riverside
Im gonna lay down my sword and shield, (a-ha) down by the riverside
Im gonna study war no more
I aint a gonna study war no more, I aint a gonna study war no more
I aint a gonna study war no more, I aint a gonna study war no more
I aint a gonna study war no more, I aint a gonna study war no more

song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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His Story

Yo, this is a story of a male female threat to society
You know being misjudged and not respected for what we are
But I want to send this special shout out to my girl tawana brawley
Cause no matter what we say or what we do
Theyll always believe his story (ow)
Chorus:
His story (yeahee, yeahee, yeahee)
Hist story (ow)
Theyre gonna believe
His story
His story
Why does it have to be that we get labeled for what we do
Its hard enough for us to be ourselves without being used
Girls have an image too
But when they get mad at you
There is no telling what theyll say to hurt you
This is a story of a male female threat to society
Why you wanna go and tell a lie on me? (yeahee, yeah, oooh)
His story over mine his story will be his story
And my story is a waste of time (aaaah-aah-aah)
Theyre gonna believe
Chorus
Sometimes I feel like there is no reason for me to explain
No matter how much we complain
You know it all stays the same
They try to call us freaks
Why does it have to be
We cant get justified until we speak up (oooh)
This is a story of a male female threat to society
Why you wanna go and tell a lie on me? (yeahee, yeah, oooh)
His story over mine his story will be his story
And my story is a waste of time (aaaah-aah-aah)
(you know its just a waste of my time)
Theyre gonna believe
His story over mine
So what you gonna do
Dont let it take over you (hey)
My story is a waste of time
Its hard enough to be ourselves without being used
So yo take it from me
Dont be a victim of society
You cant put yourself in a position to be neglected
And disrespected
You have to do whats not expected
Alright
Or all be his story
His story over mine
His story will be his story
(this is a story of) how could you do this to us
Theyre gonna believe

[...] Read more

song performed by TLC
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Problem of the Idea

The Philosopher:

'The Problem of the 21st century
is the problem of the Origins of the Idea.'

The Idea has driven much
of human history-
a major motivator
many taken together are
Articulators;
Ideas compose all Human Dreams.

But ask what is this Idea
and silence ensues;
ask where is it
in the human mind
and we'll get charts of its activity centers
but nothing about what it is
or where it comes from.

The Scientist:

Well, we don't have to know what a thing is
to utilize it.
We can identify behaviors and integrate
them-
harness them to purpose.

Philosopher:

Sure like the Atomic Bomb. It was built because
we could integrate various disciplines
and make things go bang
without thinking of Consequence.
technical Ideas-too have consequences.

Scientist:

So you would hold up all human progress
until the over-arching Idea comes along
before we act?

Philosopher:
Ah, but note that progress that destroys
the planet is not
progress at all
but only a blind mistake;
one I might add,
that did not have
an Idea or Clue

[...] Read more

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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An Idea

An Idea can change the world, how many
things can be done from an idea, every piece
of object was an idea, sense the beginning of
time idea was the first thought created in the
mind, an idea is what surround’s every being.
But an idea is still only an idea and it can't be
felt, you cannot touch an idea or kiss it, or hold it,
ideas do not bleed or feel pain or love, an idea
cannot be seen or heard, its created in our thoughts,
but then again an idea can become real. An idea
can be what ever you which it to be, an idea can
be destructive, an idea can be brilliant, I've seen
people get killed in the name of ideas, ideas,
we walk around with a little
light bulb blinking in our thoughts, ideas.

poem by Elenushka Toledo
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When You Rush To Judgement

You have no idea,
What you've done.
You have no idea...
None.

You have no idea,
What you've done.
You have no idea...
Not a one.

Oh, oh, oh...
When you rush to judgement,
Your emotions are your worst enemy.
When you rush to judgement,
Your emotions are your worst enemy.
When you rush to judgement,
Your emotions are your worst enemy.
When you rush to judgement.
Oh, oh, oh...
When you rush to judgement.
To pass your judgements,
When you rush to judgement.

You have no idea,
What you've done.
You have no idea...
None.

You have no idea,
What you've done.
You have no idea...
Not a one.

When you rush to judgement,
You have no idea.
No idea.
None.
When you rush to judgement,
No one has an idea...
What they've done.
When you rush to judgement,
What one does...
Affects more than one.
When you rush to judgement.
When you rush to judgement.

You have no idea,
What you've done.
You have no idea...
None.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Soul Of The World

The beauty of the morning reflects to the innermost of the world.
To the most persuasive illumination of the color of the earth
That lure to the eyes of the evil one
The joyous day of the righteousness may behold the gleams of the spirit of the goodness.
The keenness of the righteous one defeat the malicious ambiance of the wicked one
The soul of the world will bring to the joyous bowel of the earth.
That gathers the positive reactions of human existence.
And the lustrous of positive point of views
Healed the chaotic nature of the soul of the world
And the rain and streams
Cannot efface or conceal
The beauty of the universe
It is the soul of the world
This cannot be separated to the consciousness of the human being
Don’t be stupefy of what you have done
Because the soul of the world conspire us to do such things
The diamantine of affections will lighted
and firm into the soul of the world
The diaphanous of the sky to the free flowing of the blood of martyrs
Praises the everlasting blood sheds of the flesh and the soul
The equivocal of the soul and existence
Resounded to the thoughts and to the soul of the human being
Behold the soul of the world
How can we face the world without the soul of the world?
It seems like to be ambiguous to the part of subjectivist
If what kind of soul where I meant to be
I am only referring to the inseparable conjunction of individual and world
If there were no soul of the world, there would be no necessity
Without necessity, no reason and no understanding
The nothing out of which the soul of the world came, is nothing without the world
Thus, the soul of the world is only necessary out of itself and through itself
But, the necessity of the soul of the world is the necessity of reason
Whatever we think it is not of our own action
It is an action of the soul of the world
Which the most profoundest and most essential necessity of reasons
If we think that, the mountains turn into mud
Without the necessity of reasons
Is like a white paper o tabularaza which have no truth value and material validity
But, if we think that the mountain would turn into dust
With the necessity of reasons
Is like a crystal clear does the truth value and the material validity had
Behold the soul of the world
The sweetness of the night coaxing the stars above
How sweet the soul of the world it is?
God knows this soul of the world conspire us
The wind and the sun tell us if how this soul of the world is important to us.
From the dark depths of the earth as far as to the shallowness of the universe
Reflect the goodness and necessities of the soul of the world
The dewdrops linger to the lips of the red rose in the battlefield
Entice the soul of the world to the chaotic and morbid

[...] Read more

poem by Vicente Añonuevo
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It's that day again

Come one, come all and gather round
hear the sound
the story and tale
let not your ears fail
not now, for this is of great importance
Im not looking for acceptance
but for your deliverance
I must save you from what i did
by this vein i must forbid
you to guard your heart, for there is a lurking evil that consumes the young
an evil that rolls off the tongue
is sweet to hear, sweet to the hear, and dear
on this day on this February the thirteenth do not express
your love for someone until you address
this problem, because it's the ideas that are the worst poison
this is what ruins a person
before you profess that love, make certain
that you profess not in vain
for this is the simple trap that ensnares men
its the idea, the idea of her are you blind it's the idea thats trapped you again
Your LOVE is not true, because you are in love the idea of her
and when weeks pass and trials come... she will concur
that your love was imagined, you loved that way she made you feel
the way she held you and made you feel warm, so surreal
but that's not love, you imagined your dream girl
but fell in love with someone else, only to find that all along you loved an idea
that was the object of your love, this idea you made, let your reality unfurl
see past your blindness and see you never loved her and dont make
the mistake that i made, and dont you dare fake
this love, because you feel so lonely, don't settle for less but wait
for your real mate
it's that day, that day i remember, what not to do
now i come to you
to save, redeem, deliver, and expose this wrong this threatens the life
you need not fear if you guard your heart and trust in Him who can be trusted
your First Love, but do not forget that this world is rife
with that temptation to love the idea of a girl, dont get caught busted
the idea is so much more dangerous than the room, and yet it will
beg your love, as you attempt to wait, don't love an idea that is abstract
resist its power to attract
do not let it kill
as it has done to many before
and will do to more a score
tread carefully my friend, for you tread the ground trod by those who fell
in love with ideas so keep not your heart on your sleeve
but guard it in armor and do not tell
a girl that you love her, when you love an idea, don't be naive

poem by David Knox
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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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No Way Out

No intentions
Whatsoever
I was gone for a night
Nothings forever
The cruel daylight
Brought me back to my senses (back to my senses)
Got caught in here
Under false pretenses
No way out
None whatever
I made up the story
Thought it was clever
She didnt ask
And I got no reply (got no reply)
But later that night
I heard her cry
Chorus:
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No accusations
Whatsoever
But can she forget
Nothings forever
Since yesterday
Shes a little bit colder (little bit colder)
Wont happen again
What could Ive told her
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
Doesnt buy my story
How can she tell the truth from the lies
When does she know when to close her eyes
She doesnt want to lose me
So she only sees what she wants to see
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out, no way
No way out...

song performed by Starship
Added by Lucian Velea
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter LXXX: Story

Story about future is called imagination
Story about past is called memories
Story about present is called reality
Story that becomes true is called prophecy
Story that becomes unfulfilled is called regret
Story that becomes no end is called boasting
Small story is called experience
Epic story is called history
Forgotten story is called lesson
Story that becomes obsession is called ambition
Story that becomes untold is called secret
Story that becomes go its own way is called life

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Hard Luck Story

Dont ask me to love my neighbour
Cause I dont love the man
Dont ask me for my favours
I wont lend a hand
And if I had real power
Then I could disappear
Wouldnt have to be around you
Id sink into the atmosphere
Then I wouldnt hear
Your hard luck story
Its a hard luck, a hard luck story
Dont ask me to tip the waiter
For he is underhand
I can tell he is a woman hater
And he is a nasty man
Within reach lies all desire
For each and every soul
Stripped bare and stretching higher
You fall into the last balck hole
To end your hard
Hard luck story
Its a hard luck
Hard luck story
Dont ask me to pray to jesus
Ive never met the man
I only meet weekend preachers
Pictures of the promised land
All the new holy saviours
Who pretend to understand
Who do you think will save you
Modern day beggar man
Such a hard luck
Hard luck story
Its a hard luck
Hard luck story
Its such a hard
Hard luck story
Its a hard luck
Hard luck story
Dont ask me to love my neighbour
Dont ask me to tip the waiter
Dont ask me to pray to jesus
He picked his time to leave us
Its a hard luck
Hard luck story
Its a hard luck
Hard luck story
Its a hard luck story
Hard luck story

song performed by Men At Work
Added by Lucian Velea
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Just To Hear Your Story Being Told

Stay up all night,
If you are the type...
That can not seem to sleep right.
And bear on shoulders,
Those burdens you can't control.
The ones you hold in overload.

Fight with clinched teeth and be uptight...
About common situations that incite,
And corrode that need you have to be bold.
Just to hear your story being told.
Just to hear your story!

Go fly a kite!
If that is the attitude you choose and like.
But put some movement to it.
And don't criticize...
Those you know who recommend,
You should get a life.

Don't close off to sit inside.
To peep out from a keyhole...
Just to hear your story being told.

Go fly a kite!
Just to hear your story being told!

Stay up all night.
Fight with clinched teeth and be uptight
But...
Don't sit inside.
Just to hear your story being told.
Just to hear your story...

Stay up all night,
If you are the type...
That can not seem to sleep right.
And bear on shoulders,
Those burdens you can't control.
The ones you hold in overload.
To peep on the outside,
From a keyhole...
Just to hear your story being told.

Go fly a kite...
If you need your story to be told.
Just to hear your story.
And,
Go fly a kite...
If you need your story to be told.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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As I Sat Alone By Blue Ontario's Shores

AS I sat alone, by blue Ontario's shore,
As I mused of these mighty days, and of peace return'd, and the dead
that return no more,
A Phantom, gigantic, superb, with stern visage, accosted me;
Chant me the poem, it said, that comes from the soul of America--
chant me the carol of victory;
And strike up the marches of Libertad--marches more powerful yet;
And sing me before you go, the song of the throes of Democracy.

(Democracy--the destin'd conqueror--yet treacherous lip-smiles
everywhere,
And Death and infidelity at every step.)

A Nation announcing itself,
I myself make the only growth by which I can be appreciated, 10
I reject none, accept all, then reproduce all in my own forms.

A breed whose proof is in time and deeds;
What we are, we are--nativity is answer enough to objections;
We wield ourselves as a weapon is wielded,
We are powerful and tremendous in ourselves,
We are executive in ourselves--We are sufficient in the variety of
ourselves,
We are the most beautiful to ourselves, and in ourselves;
We stand self-pois'd in the middle, branching thence over the world;
From Missouri, Nebraska, or Kansas, laughing attacks to scorn.

Nothing is sinful to us outside of ourselves, 20
Whatever appears, whatever does not appear, we are beautiful or
sinful in ourselves only.

(O mother! O sisters dear!
If we are lost, no victor else has destroy'd us;
It is by ourselves we go down to eternal night.)

Have you thought there could be but a single Supreme?
There can be any number of Supremes--One does not countervail
another, any more than one eyesight countervails another, or
one life countervails another.

All is eligible to all,
All is for individuals--All is for you,
No condition is prohibited--not God's, or any.

All comes by the body--only health puts you rapport with the
universe. 30

Produce great persons, the rest follows.

[...] Read more

poem by Walt Whitman
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Schooling Relationship

you are the subject which i study
understanding and getting to know you psychologically
learning new ways to do right
ways to out do the wrong
you are the subject which i study
practicing and testing the goods and bads
you are the subject which i study
the time has come graduation is here
learn the subject by studing its psychology
understanding is the only way for success
now we move on to the next step
you are the subject which i study to major
as i take hold of your hand
guide you through rough times throughout this life
you are the subject which i study to major
as time goes by ticking away
i studied you all those days
i understand your past history life
your psychology means alot to me
mentally physically emotionally speaking
you are the subject which i study to major...

poem by Diara Armstead
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Tell Me A Story

Tell Me A Story
I believe oh I believe
All things are possible on Christmas Eve
Ok
It was the night before Christmas
And all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
Not even a mouse
The stockings was hung
By the chimney with care
In hopes that St. Nick
Soon would be there
Me and my sisters and brothers
Getting ready for bed
Can't wait to get toys
For all the break bread
Mom's in plent jammies in the middle
And pop's still
Santa's coming eating
The cookies and milk
Tell Me A Story
I believe oh I believe
All things are possible
On Christmas Eve
Everytime I hear the rhyme
I love it even more
Tell me a story
About the night before
Could it be a dream
I think I heard a noise
Jumped out of bed
It's the no limit boys
I ran to the window
Creak creak
Bright red shin'nin
The new Huh-v
Snow in the south hmmm
That's kinda silly
Is it Santa Claus or is it
My uncle Willy
Know we play games
But this one feels weird
When I see eight
Shiny reindeer
Tell Me A Story
I believe oh I believe
All things are possible
On Christmas Eve
Everytime I hear the rhyme
I love it even more

[...] Read more

song performed by Hilary Duff
Added by Lucian Velea
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No Way Out

No intentions
Whatsoever
I was gone for a night
Nothings forever
The cruel daylight
Brought me back to my senses
(back to my senses)
Got caught in here
Under false pretenses
No way out
None whatever
I made up the story
Thought it was clever
She didnt ask
And I got no reply
(got no reply)
But later that night
I heard her cry
No way out
She doesnt buy my story
No way out
She doesnt buy my story
No way out
She doesnt buy my story
No accusations
None, whatever
But can she forget
Nothings forever
Since yesterday
Shes a little bit colder
(little bit colder)
Wont happen again
What could Ive told her
No way out
She doesnt buy my story
No way out
She doesnt buy my story
No way out
She doesnt buy my story
Doesnt buy my story
How can she tell the truth from the lies
How does she know when to close her eyes
She doesnt want to lose me
So she only sees what she wants to see
No way out
She doesnt buy my story
No way out
She doesnt buy my story
No way out
She doesnt buy my story

[...] Read more

song performed by Jefferson Starship
Added by Lucian Velea
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Half A Person

Call me morbid, call me pale
I've spent six years on your trail
Six long years
On your trail
Call me morbid, call me pale
I've spent six years on your trail
Six full years of my life on your trail
And if you have five seconds to spare
Then i'll tell you the story of my life :
Sixteen, clumsy and shy
I went to london and i
I booked myself in at the y ... w.c.a.
I said : "i like it here - can i stay ?
I like it here - can i stay ?
And do you have a vacancy
For a back-scrubber?"
She was left behind, and sour
And she wrote to me, equally dour
She said : "in the days when you were
Hopelessly poor
I just liked you more..."
And if you have five seconds to spare
Then i'll tell you the story of my life :
Sixteen, clumsy and shy
I went to london and i
I booked myself in at the y ... w.c.a.
I said : "i like it here - can i stay ?
I like it here - can i stay ?
And do you have a vacancy
For a back-scrubber ?"
Call me morbid, call me pale
I've spent too long on your trail
Far too long
Chasing your tail
Oh ...
And if you have five seconds to spare
Then i'll tell you the story of my life :
Sixteen, clumsy and shy
That's the story of my life
Sixteen, clumsy and shy
The story of my life
That's the story of my life
That's the story of my life
That's the story of my life
The story of my life
That's the story of my life
That's the story of my life

song performed by Smiths
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Storyteller's Word

In a decent book, I can lose myself,
For, at least, a good couple of hours.
A well told story, for young or old,
My mind will quite hungrily devour.

I’ve always loved a real page turner:
A story, which, is totally compelling.
Sometimes, there’s a story, true or invented,
Which, simply, deserves, and needs telling.

Sometimes, a person in a book,
To me, can feel like a true friend;
You share their life and adventures,
And feel rather sad, when it all ends.

A story can stir up a mixture of emotions:
I’ve cried tears, and gasped with surprise.
I’ve found myself completely captivated,
As a story unfolds before my very eyes.

A good story, has the ability to transport you,
To different places, and to different times.
You just never know where you may end up,
When you sit and read those immortal lines.

Stories should never be kept locked away:
With others, they should be readily shared.
There is no other past-time, known to man,
With which, reading a book, can quite compare.

Whether a story is based on a person’s life,
Or whether, it has been quite purely invented,
A story can make such an impact upon you,
That, forever, in your memory, it is cemented.

I’ve always adored a really well written story,
Regardless of, by whom, or when, it was written.
Snuggled up, with a book held in your hands,
It is so easy, to become completely smitten.

A story can make you lose all track of time,
When, in a book, you are totally immersed.
I love reading a story, and really drinking it in;
For reading books, I’ve developed a real thirst.

There are many stories, the world over,
Which, are still waiting to be heard.
Nothing on earth, is quite so powerful,
As the power of the storyteller’s word.

poem by Angela Wybrow
Added by Poetry Lover
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Washington and Lincoln

Come, happy people! Oh come let us tell
The story of Washinton and Lincoln!
History's pages can never excel
The story of Washington and Lincoln.
Down through the ages an anthem shall go,
Bearing the honors we gladly bestow--
Till every nation and language shall know
The story of Washington and Lincoln:

Who gave us independence,
On our continent and sea
Who saved the glorious Union!
And set a people free!
This is the story--
Oh happy are we--
The story of Washington and Lincoln.

Parents to children shall tell with delight,
The story of Washington and Lincoln;
Free born and freed men together recite
The story of Washinton and Lincoln.
Earth's weary bond men shall listen with cheer--
Tyrants shall tremble, and traitors shall fear--
When, in it's fullness of glory, they hear
The story of Washington and Lincoln:

Though on the war cloud recorded with steel,
The story of Washington and Lincoln;
Peace only Peace, can completely reveal
The story of Washington and Lincoln.
Thanks to the Lord for the days we behold!
Thanks for the unsullied flag we unfold!
Thanks to us, and in our time, was told
The story of Washington and Lincoln.

poem by Henry Clay Work
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Song of Wink Star

The Song of Wink Star
a happy story for children of all ages
story and text © Raj Arumugam, June 2008

☼ ☼

☼ Preamble

Come…children all, children of all ages…sit close and listen…
Come and listen to this happy story of the stars and of life…
Come children of the universe, children of all nations and of all races, and of all climates and of all kinds of space and dimensions and universes…
Come, dearest children of all beings of the living universe, come and listen to The Song of Wink Star…

Come and listen to this story, this happy story…listen, as the story itself sings to you…

Sit close then, and listen to the story that was not made by any, or written by a poet, or fashioned by grandfathers and grandmothers warming themselves at the fire of burning stars…

O dearest children all, come and listen to the story that lives
of itself, and that glows bright and happy….

Come…children all, children of all ages, come and listen to this happy story, the story so natural and smooth as life, as it sings itself to you….

☼ The Song of Wink Star
a happy story for children of all ages

☼ 1

Night Child, always so light and gentle, slept on a flower.
And every night, before he went to sleep, he would look up at the sky.
He would look at the eastern corner, five o’clock.

And there he would see all the stars in near and distant galaxies that were only visible to the People of Star Eyes.

Night Child was one of the People of Star Eyes. And so he could see the stars. And of all the stars he could see, he loved to watch Wink Star.

Wink Star twinkled and winked and laughed.
Every night Wink Star did that. Winked and laughed.

[...] Read more

poem by Raj Arumugam
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