You know, I live a monastic lifestyle. No, I do. I do live in extremes, basically. I go back and forth. Once every six months, I'll have a day where I eat more chocolate than has ever been consumed by a human being.
quote by Jim Carrey
Added by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Eat It
How come youre always such a fussy young man?
Dont want no captain crunch, dont want no raison bran
Well, dont you know that other kids are starving in japan
So eat it, just eat it
Dont want to argue, I dont want to debate
Dont want to hear about what kind of food you hate
You wont get no dessert till you clean off your plate
So eat it
Dont you tell me youre full
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Get yourself an egg and beat it
Have some more chicken, have some more pie
It doesnt matter if its boiled or fried
Just eat it, eat it, just eat it, eat it
Just eat it, eat it, just eat it, eat it, ooh
Your table manners are some cryin shame
Youre playin with your food, this aint some kind of game
Now, if you starve to death, youll just have yourself to blame
So eat it, just eat it
You better listen, better do what youre told
You havent even touched your tuna casserole
You better chow down or its gonna get cold
So eat it
I dont care if youre full
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Open up your mouth and feed it
Have some more yogurt, have some more spam
It doesnt matter it its fresh or tanned
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Dont you make me repeate it
Have a banana, have a whole bunch
It doesnt matter what you had for lunch
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
If its gettin cold, reheat it
Have a big dinner, have a light snack
If you dont like it, you cant send it back
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Get yourself an egg and beat it (oh lord)
Have some more chicken, have some more pie
It doesnt matter if its boiled or fried
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Dont you make me repeat it (oh no)
Have a banana, have a whole bunch
It doesnt matter what you had for lunch
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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Chocolate Milk, Chocolate Syrup, Chocolate Cup
chocolate milk, chocolate syrup, chocolate cup
when im putting in chocolate syrup i put too much
i wish i had a chocolate pup in a chocolate cup
in a chocolate world!
but that would be alot to eat
for just one little girl!
if chocolate was a talent
Id be the chocolate master!
chocolate storms and tornadoes are natural chocolate disasters!
there would be chocolate houses and chocolate apartments and chocolate hotels for rent!
People eating chocolate all day without paying a single cent!
All their money would be in chocolate banks w chocolate robbers
Chocolate dinners like chocolate spaghetti and chocolate covered lobsters!
Chocolate chocolate chocolate BOOO!
(and no vanilla)
Drew
poem by Drew Bailey Golden
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I Love Chocolate
I love chocolate, oh yes I do.
Eating chocolate is a must too.
I love chocolate, how about you?
They say dark chocolate is now good for you too.
I would eat chocolate while watching Mr. Magoo.
I would eat chocolate instead of dodo.
I like a good chocolate candy bar.
I would even eat chocolate from a jar.
I want to eat chocolate all day long.
Eating too much chocolate may be wrong.
They need to write about chocolate in a song.
Some people eat chocolate just to belong.
I would even eat chocolate in my Froot Loops
I would even eat chocolate with a big group.
poem by Nichole Kaci McKnight
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The mother and the artist
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of wonderfully emollient freshness; every
unfurling instant of impregnably magnificent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of spellbindingly undefeated innocence; every
unfurling instant of symbiotically pristine existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of timelessly unconquerable truth; every unfurling
instant of bounteously magnanimous existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unfathomably unfettered creativity; every
unfurling instant of timelessly burgeoning existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of royally triumphant resplendence; every
unfurling instant of unconquerably majestic existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of eternally exhilarating vivaciousness; every
unfurling instant of redolently insuperable existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unbelievably ameliorating optimism; every
unfurling instant of marvelously benign existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of brilliantly liberated camaraderie; every
unfurling instant of iridescently inscrutable existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unshakably virgin righteousness; every
unfurling instant of beautifully untainted existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of uninhibitedly heavenly frolic; every unfurling
instant of tantalizingly sensuous existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of compassionately humanitarian friendship; every
unfurling instant of magically mitigating existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of miraculously everlasting freshness; every
unfurling instant of invincibly coalescing existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of pricelessly ubiquitous oneness; every unfurling
[...] Read more
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi
Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Do I Do
When I see you on the street
My whole body gets weak
When youre standing in a crowd
Your love talks to me so loud
Girl, do I do, what you do, when I do my love to you
When I hear you on the phone
Your sweet, sexy voice turns my ear all the way on
Just the mention of your name
Seems to drive my head insane
Girl, do I do, what you do, when I do my love to you...baby
Sss..mmm
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
My life has been waiting for your love
My arms have been waiting for your love to arrive
My heart has been waiting
My soul anticipating your love, love, love
From the time that I awake
Im imagining the good love that well make
If to me your vibe can do all this
Just imagine how its going to feel when we hug and kiss
Sugar, do I do, what you do, when I do my love to you...all right
Sss..mmm
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
My life has been waiting for your love
My arms have been waiting for your love to arrive
My heart has been waiting
My soul anticipating your love, your love, your love
Ladies and gentlemen,
I have the pleasure to present on my album
Mr. dizzy gillespie...blow!
Blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow!
Do I do, what you do, when I do my love to you
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
My life has been waiting for your love
My arms have been waiting for your love to arrive
My heart has been waiting
My soul anticipating your love, your love, your lo-o-ove
Oh, I dont care how long it might take
cause I know the woman for me, you Ill make
And I will not deny myself the chance
Of being part of what feels like the right romance
[...] Read more
song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dog Eat Dog
It’s a dog eat dog world, a dog eat dog world, a dog eat dog eat dog eat dog world.
Live like a dog die like a dog, as the old saying goes,
The plant you water is the plant that grows, everybody knows,
Give blows, get blows
Down’s how the water flows
Live like a dog die like a dog
It’s a dog eat dog eat dog eat dog world.
Dog bites matty dog for a piece of meat,
Child hits matty child for a taste of sweet,
Woman claws her matty because she looks so neat,
Man robs his matty man because he wants to eat,
Policeman kicks his matty thief because he likes to beat.
It’s a dog eat dog world, a dog eat dog world, a dog eat dog eat dog eat dog world.
Live like a dog die like a dog, as the old saying goes,
The plant you water is the plant that grows, as everybody knows,
Give blows, get blows
Down’s how the water flows
Live like a dog die like a dog
It’s a dog eat dog eat dog eat dog world.
Preacher lies to the congregation cos that comes naturally,
Shopman cheats his customer for maximum profitability,
Politician takes all the bribes he can, constitutionally,
Lawyer robs you with a pen completely legally
Country bombs its matty land nationalistically.
It’s a dog eat dog world, a dog eat dog world, a dog eat dog eat dog eat dog world.
Live like a dog die like a dog, as the old saying goes,
The plant you water is the plant that grows, everybody knows,
Give blows, get blows
Down’s how the water flows
Live like a dog die like a dog
It’s a dog eat dog eat dog eat dog world.
poem by Nim Lee
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VII. Pompilia
I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.
All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.
Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Taken To Extremes
At one time I was,
Am I now...
No!
At one time I was,
Am I now...
No!
At one time I was,
Am I now...
No!
Accepting people AND their shortcomings
At one time I was,
Am I now...
No!
At one time I was,
Am I now...
No!
At one time I was,
Am I now...
No!
Accepting people AND their shortcomings
I had stop,
Accepting people and their shortcomings
I had to stop,
An empathy they would expect from me.
I was made to drop,
All the giving of my energy...
Taken to extremes until they saw me bleed.
I had stop,
Accepting people and their shortcomings
I had to stop,
An empathy they would expect from me.
I was made to drop,
All the giving of my energy...
Taken to extremes until they saw me bleed.
At one time I was,
Am I now...
No!
At one time I was,
Am I now...
No!
At one time I was,
Am I now...
No!
Accepting people AND their shortcomings.
I was made to drop,
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Consumed Within the Process
Consumed within the process
That process we call life.
Immuned? Not from this process.
It keeps the vision near yet uncompromised.
And far enough to become realized.
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed within the process.
That process we call life.
Immuned?
Not from this process!
It keeps the vision near yet uncompromised.
And far enough to become realized.
Closing its eyes only when it wishes,
To call itself out!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Trruffles (A Chocolate Orgy)
She stood behind the counter, feet spread wide
Her hair neatly tied in a bun that the netting tried to hide.
Smiled when I entered, hands covered with sugar dust
So she wiped her hands on the apron. That she must.
Standing behind the display of truffles galore
She seemed to be offering so much more.
The names of each on a card was printed
With the truffles, carefully presented
So they stood out in all their glory
As if to tell a life’s story
Each was held like a newborn at the baptismal font
To be blessed by the mistress who was about to anoint.
“Do you like truffles, ’ she asked with a toss of her head
“Some come here thinking, they’re just high priced chocolate., ” she said.
“And they don’t appreciate the taste and aroma
That each offers to the knowing consumer
As he savors the chocolate as it melts in his mouth
Releasing aroma’s history in flavors, run rout.”
Then she carefully selected one and placing in on a marble square
Carefully, carved sections with knowing care.
As she buisied herself I couldn’t help notice
What a beauty stood before me with chocolates to entice
To sample what was offered. Never mind the price
For this was a meeting between two, that never happens twice.
Taking a small piece and placing it between her lips,
She slowly explained her chocolate, eating tips.
“Notice how I place it on my tongue and hold it there
Before I place against mouth’s roof, the essence to share.
The chocolate melts at body temperature, just like yours and mine
And as it melts, cools the surface, a feeling, Oh so sublime.”
She shifted her feet as if to acknowledge that more was to come
Tasting chocolate is permissive seduction to some.
“Now” she continued and as she slowly inhaled through her nose
She seemed to be in another world, yet she was so close,
With lips together so the nose took command
She reached out and offered a piece with her exquisite, gloved hand.
“After the coolness, “she continued, “You are about to discover
That this bit of chocolate has a history only you can uncover,
The dark chocolate has an earthy aroma that comes from its distant past.”
And with eyes closed (as hers were) “you can imagine the forest vast.
Chirping of birds and calls of animals wild
Those are the memories that the chocolate cannot hide.”
Too soon it was over and she carefully selected just a few
[...] Read more
poem by Sidi J. Mahtrow
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Chocolate Is A Food Group
I love chocolate.
So should you.
Milk chocolate,
Dark chocolate.
It's good for you, too.
Chocolate cake,
Chocolate candy,
Chocolate pie.
Take away my chocolate
And I might die.
White chocolate,
Hot chocolate,
Even chocolate soup...
Any chocolate lover knows
Chocolate is a food group.
poem by Rich Reitz
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Through the eyes of a Field Coronet (Epic)
Introduction
In the kaki coloured tent in Umbilo he writes
his life’s story while women, children and babies are dying,
slowly but surely are obliterated, he see how his nation is suffering
while the events are notched into his mind.
Lying even heavier on him is the treason
of some other Afrikaners who for own gain
have delivered him, to imprisonment in this place of hatred
and thoughts go through him to write a book.
Prologue
The Afrikaner nation sprouted
from Dutchmen,
who fought decades without defeat
against the super power Spain
mixed with French Huguenots
who left their homes and belongings,
with the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
Associate this then with the fact
that these people fought formidable
for seven generations
against every onslaught that they got
from savages en wild animals
becoming marksmen, riding
and taming wild horses
with one bullet per day
to hunt a wild antelope,
who migrated right across the country
over hills in mass protest
and then you have
the most formidable adversary
and then let them fight
in a natural wilderness
where the hunter,
the sniper and horseman excels
and any enemy is at a lost.
Let them then also be patriotic
into their souls,
believe in and read
out of the word of God
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
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Chocolate Cake
I love chocolate cake.
And when I was a boy
I loved it even more.
Sometimes we used to have it for tea
and Mum used to say,
'If there's any left over
you can have it to take to school
tomorrow to have at playtime.'
And the next day I would take it to school
wrapped up in tin foil
open it up at playtime
and sit in the corner of the playground
eating it,
you know how the icing on top
is all shiny and it cracks as you
bite into it,
and there's that other kind of icing in
the middle
and it sticks to your hands and you
can lick your fingers
and lick your lips
oh it's lovely.
yeah.
Anyway,
once we had this chocolate cake for tea
and later I went to bed
but while I was in bed
I found myself waking up
licking my lips
and smiling.
I woke up proper.
'The chocolate cake.'
It was the first thing
1 thought of.
I could almost see it
so I thought,
what if I go downstairs
and have a little nibble, yeah?
It was all dark
everyone was in bed
so it must have been really late
but I got out of bed,
crept out of the door
there's always a creaky floorboard, isn't there?
[...] Read more
poem by Michael Rosen
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Chocolate!
Chocolates, Chocolates, Chocolates,
Milk- chocolate, Mint-chocolate and semi-sweet,
Yummy dark chocolate is such a treat.
Chocolate yoghurt, sauce and chips,
And the chocolate dips,
One can have lot of sips.
Some are hard, some are smooth,
But at times give you saw-tooth,
Chocolate-shake, Hot chocolate are some drinks,
Which makes you wink.
Chocolate to express your love,
Which makes you feel above,
Chocolate to say sorry,
And then no worry.
So is chocolate healthy?
Or is just a mystery?
Or is chocolate a delight?
But, chocolates are just so right.
poem by Anju Addanki
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O Chocolate, My Chocolate!
O chocolate, my chocolate!
thou art truly the food of Gods
with tempting shapes and flavors
thy center a gooey warm paradise of caramel
that maketh my heart melt and brain joyous
filled with endorphins and all things nice
O chocolate, my chocolate!
Thou doeth tease me
blanketing strawberry mousse
and cherry cream
with liquor for added pleasure
giving me surprise when I sink my teeth
in thy glorious chocolateness.
O chocolate, my chocolate!
can there be any other that gives me comfort
as thou?
on a rainy dark night,
no other keeps me warm and quenched
than a warm cup of thick chocolate
to drink and to dip from
O chocolate, my chocolate!
bonbons and toffees
bars and liquid
powder and chips
doeth it matter what form you take?
like water and air
one form need not be taken
to share the happiness you bring
O chocolate, my chocolate!
from Kit-Kats to Mars bars
Twix and Snickers
Hershey's to Godiva's
to the cocoa beans that were
blended in spices by
bloodthirsty Mayans
thou has pledged and won
a place in my heart
and taste buds.
With my love,
An ardent and hungry fan.
poem by Anne Bonny
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Land of chocolate
I took a walk out of the ordinary today
i didn't work, rest, nor did i play
i walked out my front door with a wish
a wish that i could walk to a chocolate land
so i closed my eyes and imagined...
and there it was in my mind...
a fudge chocolate gate stood in front of me
i ran up to it with urgency
to my surprise the gate was locked and could not be opened
a note in white chocolate stared me in the face
it simply said in big bold itallycs
'please eat your way through the fudge gates'
and so i did...(i took a huge bite and chewed and chewed)
i bit one whole bar off this fudge gate
(and because i'm imagining it, my hunger is never satisfied
and i can not get sick, WaaHaa!)
i finished my BAR of chocolate and huddled through
I could hardly believe what lay before me
the clouds where only forty feet above the ground
and they were made from vanilla fairy floss
there was a light rain in the near distance
i ran over and cupped my hand to try some
(sip sip) it tastes like a strawberry smoothy
i looked down at the rough multi-coloured footpath
my goodness...it was a long, long rocky road
it stretched all the way over the curved horizon
so when i went to tie my loose shoelaces
i ripped a handful of rocky road and ate it(as i chew and chew)
i point my finger to the west
there are three fast flowing rivers flowing to the south
i hurry over to the first and taste....(sip sip) its Coca Cola(as fizzy as ever)
i scramble over to the next and salivate...(slirp) its thick rich chocolate milk(smooth as silk)
i hussle over toward the forth and gulp it in...(sip slirp) its a vanilla thick shake(with swimming jelly snakes) oh how unbelievably DELICIOUS!
I dance, skip and prance like a twelve year old boy
i flip about and raise my arms with an endless joy
i see a mountain just over yonda (in the near distance)
standing at the top waving his hand, wow! , its Willy Wonka
he starts rolling giant Maltesers down the slope
i grope with amazement and look at the surrounding forrest
a chocolate mousse swamp surrounded by sugar trees(with mint leaves and chocolate ball berries)
i jump into the mousse swamp and float in its thick fudge
then a chocolate crocodile surfaces with sharp white chocolate teeth and gives me a nudge
he said to me 'don't worry, in this world you can eat me' so i did! (in about three hours)
i get out of the swamp and trip on a dark rock near the edge just as i get out
the rock cracked open and out flowed smooth rich creamy caramel(so i dived onto it and devoured as much as my mouth could take)
as i get up i look forward, an abundance of roses just lay ahead
these wern't ordinary roses like in your garden bed, these were roses chocolates
each one a different flavour, a different texture, a different taste(all scrumtious)
[...] Read more
poem by Allen Steble
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Virginia's Story
Elizabeth Gates-Wooten is my Grand mom.
She was born in Canada with her father and brothers.
They owned a Barber Shoppe.
I don't remember exactly where in Canada.
I believe it was right over the border like Windsor or Toronto.
I never knew exactly where it was.
When she was old enough she got married.
First, she married a man by the name of Frank Gates.
He was from Madagascar.
He fathered my mom and her brother and sister.
The boy's name was Frank Gates, Jr.
Two girls name were Anna and Agnes.
Agnes was my mother.
Frank Gates went crazy after the war
He drank a lot and died
Then grandma Elizabeth married a man by the name of Mr. Wooten.
He had a German name, but I don't think he was German.
She took his last name after they got married.
Then they moved to West Virginia in the United States.
Their son, Frank Gates Jr. Became a delegate in the democratic party.
He use to get into a lot of trouble because he liked to fight.
He was a delegate from the 1940's to 1970's.
He died of gout in the 1970's.
Anna was a maid and cook.
She baked cakes and stuff for people as a side line.
She had a hump on her back (scoliosis) .
She had to walk with a cane.
She could cook good though.
She did this kind of work all of her life, just like her mom, Elizabeth
They were both good cooks
They had a lot of money because they had these skills
Especially when people had parties.
Because they would make all of this food and then they would have left-overs.
We got to eat a lot of stuff we normally wouldn't get because of that.
When they cooked, they didn't use no measuring stuff, they would just use there hand.
My moms name was Agnes Barrie Gates.
She married James Wright and moved to Cleveland.
[...] Read more
poem by Talile Ali
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Paradise Lost: Book 09
No more of talk where God or Angel guest
With Man, as with his friend, familiar us'd,
To sit indulgent, and with him partake
Rural repast; permitting him the while
Venial discourse unblam'd. I now must change
Those notes to tragick; foul distrust, and breach
Disloyal on the part of Man, revolt,
And disobedience: on the part of Heaven
Now alienated, distance and distaste,
Anger and just rebuke, and judgement given,
That brought into this world a world of woe,
Sin and her shadow Death, and Misery
Death's harbinger: Sad talk!yet argument
Not less but more heroick than the wrath
Of stern Achilles on his foe pursued
Thrice fugitive about Troy wall; or rage
Of Turnus for Lavinia disespous'd;
Or Neptune's ire, or Juno's, that so long
Perplexed the Greek, and Cytherea's son:
If answerable style I can obtain
Of my celestial patroness, who deigns
Her nightly visitation unimplor'd,
And dictates to me slumbering; or inspires
Easy my unpremeditated verse:
Since first this subject for heroick song
Pleas'd me long choosing, and beginning late;
Not sedulous by nature to indite
Wars, hitherto the only argument
Heroick deem'd chief mastery to dissect
With long and tedious havock fabled knights
In battles feign'd; the better fortitude
Of patience and heroick martyrdom
Unsung; or to describe races and games,
Or tilting furniture, imblazon'd shields,
Impresses quaint, caparisons and steeds,
Bases and tinsel trappings, gorgeous knights
At joust and tournament; then marshall'd feast
Serv'd up in hall with sewers and seneshals;
The skill of artifice or office mean,
Not that which justly gives heroick name
To person, or to poem. Me, of these
Nor skill'd nor studious, higher argument
Remains; sufficient of itself to raise
That name, unless an age too late, or cold
Climate, or years, damp my intended wing
Depress'd; and much they may, if all be mine,
Not hers, who brings it nightly to my ear.
The sun was sunk, and after him the star
Of Hesperus, whose office is to bring
[...] Read more
poem by John Milton
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Chocolate Soul
As the day begins the dreams reveal
The night before was a unconscious feel
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving more time to heal
Tears don't necessary lend a hand
The exotic points are about to extend
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving more time to heal
Knowing that hi points touch the thighs
Leaving the feeling of passion within your eyes
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving more time to heal
Touching your skin beyond ectasy
Is Breathtaking enough to calm the seas
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
Piercing eyes creep through the pane
Embarrassment captures your every saying
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
Once more you catch your breath
The feeling of euphoria is beyond wealth
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
Once more you catch your breath
Passion and Envy are tied up in self
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
Finally the day has end
Remember to touch, feel and speak
Encounters the moments of the soul being weak
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
Once more you catch your breath
The shivers are a response of something else
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
The moral of the story may seem unclear
Come closer to me and never fear
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
poem by Natasha McGee
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