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The effect of studying masterpieces is to make me admire and do otherwise.

quote by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Most Powerful Living Force

i admire islam
that distils the most
powerful living force
into one distinct entity

and i admire the
followers who pray
five times every day
to him to secure
blessings straight
from his hands

i admire too the
Christians who could
every week take part
in the feast of the body
and blood of a part of
the living God - Christ
and be eternally saved

i admire the Hindus
who have a million celestial
beings to help them work
their karma this life and
next and the next until
they are pure enough,
spotlessly clean to merge
with the Living God

I admire the Buddhists who
could live and pray throughout
their life for none other than
a state of nothingness
free from desires of all kinds

the admire the Jews too
who though thrown into fire
(holocaust) , made stateless
and subservient, with
steadfastness cling
to Yahweh believing
he meant only the
best for them

i admire all the world's
great religions which
through thick and thin
try to guide men to
Almighty, to love and love
like him despite all the

[...] Read more

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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I Admire Those Brave

I admire those brave,
And unafraid of their own shadows.

I admire those,
Whose lives have been enhanced...
By the act of taking chances.

I respect those who anticipate,
Their tomorrows with expectations.
And not spending a moment drifting,
Into a yesterday for a purpose to waste.

I admire the ones who inspire.
And they always seem to be...
Those recovering from despair.
And doing that successfully.

I admire those brave,
And unafraid of their own shadows.
The ones able to cover their bruises well.
The ones willing to listen.
Without sob stories to tell.

I also admire an acquaintance I knew,
Who had been penniless.
And yet in dire circumstances...
Managed to offer a bright eyed smile.

I admire the ones who inspire.
And they always seem to be...
Those recovering from despair.
And doing that successfully.

I admire those brave.
They assist unknowingly,
In maintaining my faith.
And everyday my steps are paced,
To lay down even stronger than before.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Envy and Admiration

Oh how I envy my sister
Every time she talks
Every time she walks
Every time she goes somewhere
I envy my sister every minute of the day

She talks like there’s no stopping her
She owns her walk all the time
She gets to have freedom to go wherever she wants
She gets to drive when she wants to
She is the lucky sister that I very much envy

But yet I still admire her with all of my heart
I admire her for her strength
I admire her for her willingness to speak out
I admire her for her ability to stand out in the crowd
She is the sister that I admire every minute of the day

How can I envy and admire her both?
She makes my insides fill with jealousy
But yet she fills my heart and brain with admiration
After confessing this, I still feel envy and admiration for my older sister…will it ever end? ? ?

poem by Casey Lyon
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Paradise Regained

THE FIRST BOOK

I, WHO erewhile the happy Garden sung
By one man's disobedience lost, now sing
Recovered Paradise to all mankind,
By one man's firm obedience fully tried
Through all temptation, and the Tempter foiled
In all his wiles, defeated and repulsed,
And Eden raised in the waste Wilderness.
Thou Spirit, who led'st this glorious Eremite
Into the desert, his victorious field
Against the spiritual foe, and brought'st him thence 10
By proof the undoubted Son of God, inspire,
As thou art wont, my prompted song, else mute,
And bear through highth or depth of Nature's bounds,
With prosperous wing full summed, to tell of deeds
Above heroic, though in secret done,
And unrecorded left through many an age:
Worthy to have not remained so long unsung.
Now had the great Proclaimer, with a voice
More awful than the sound of trumpet, cried
Repentance, and Heaven's kingdom nigh at hand 20
To all baptized. To his great baptism flocked
With awe the regions round, and with them came
From Nazareth the son of Joseph deemed
To the flood Jordan--came as then obscure,
Unmarked, unknown. But him the Baptist soon
Descried, divinely warned, and witness bore
As to his worthier, and would have resigned
To him his heavenly office. Nor was long
His witness unconfirmed: on him baptized
Heaven opened, and in likeness of a Dove 30
The Spirit descended, while the Father's voice
From Heaven pronounced him his beloved Son.
That heard the Adversary, who, roving still
About the world, at that assembly famed
Would not be last, and, with the voice divine
Nigh thunder-struck, the exalted man to whom
Such high attest was given a while surveyed
With wonder; then, with envy fraught and rage,
Flies to his place, nor rests, but in mid air
To council summons all his mighty Peers, 40
Within thick clouds and dark tenfold involved,
A gloomy consistory; and them amidst,
With looks aghast and sad, he thus bespake:--
"O ancient Powers of Air and this wide World
(For much more willingly I mention Air,
This our old conquest, than remember Hell,
Our hated habitation), well ye know
How many ages, as the years of men,

[...] Read more

poem by John Milton
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V. Count Guido Franceschini

Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Short Term Effect

Movement
No movement
Just a falling bird
Cold as it hits the bleeding ground
He lived and died
Catch sight
Cover me with earth
Draped in black
Static
White sound
A day without substance
A changeof thought
An atmosphere that rots with time
Colours that flicker in water
A short term effect
Scream
As she tries to push him over
Helpless and sick
With teeth of madness
Jump jump dance and sing
Sideways across the desert
A charcoal face
Bites my hand
Time is sweet
Derange and disengage everything
A day without substance
A change of thought
The atmosphere rots with time
Colours that flicker in water
A short term effect
A short term effect
A short term effect
An echo
And a stranger's hand
A short term effect
An echo
And a stranger's hand
A short term effect

song performed by Cure
Added by Lucian Velea
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This Strange Effect

Youve got this strange effect on me
And I like it
Youve got this strange effect on me
And I like it
You make my world in white
You make my darkness bright, oh yes
Youve got this strange effect on me
And I like it, and I like it
And I like the way you kiss me
Dont know if I should
But this feeling its love and I know it
Thats why I feel good
Youve got this strange effect on me
And I like it
Youve got this strange effect on me
And I like it
You make my world in white
You make my darkness bright, oh yes
Youve got this strange effect on me
And I like it, and I like it

song performed by Hooverphonic
Added by Lucian Velea
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This Strange Effect

Youve got this strange effect on me,
And I like it.
Youve got this strange effect on me,
And I like it.
You make my world seem right,
You make my darkness bright, oh yes,
Youve got this strange effect on me,
And I like it.
And I like it.
And I like the way you kiss me,
Dont know if I should.
But this feeling is love, and I know it,
Thats why I feel good.
Youve got this strange effect on me,
And I like it.
Youve got this strange effect on me,
And I like it.
You make my world seem right,
You make my darkness bright, oh yes,
Youve got this strange effect on me,
And I like it.
And I like it.
And I like it.

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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Now Im A Farmer

Ive got a spade and a pick-axe
Ive got a spade and a pick-axe
And a hundred miles square of land to churn about
And a hundred miles square of land to churn about
My old horse is weary but sincerely
My old horse is weary but sincerely
I believe that he can pull a plough
I believe that he can pull a plough
Well Ive moved into the jungle of the agriculture rumble,
Well Ive moved into the jungle of the agriculture rumble,
To grow my own food
To grow my own food
And Ill dig and plough and scrape the weeds
And Ill dig and plough and scrape the weeds
Till I succeed in seeing cabbage growing through
Till I succeed in seeing cabbage growing through
Now Im a farmer, and Im digging, digging, digging, digging, digging
Now Im a farmer, and Im digging, digging, digging, digging, digging
Now Im a farmer, and Im digging, digging, digging, digging, digging
Now Im a farmer, and Im digging, digging, digging, digging, digging
Its alarming how charming it is to be a-farming
Its alarming how charming it is to be a-farming
How calming and balming the effect of the air
How calming and balming the effect of the air
Well, I farmed for a year and grew a crop of corn
Well, I farmed for a year and grew a crop of corn
That stretched as far as the eye can see
That stretched as far as the eye can see
Thats a whole lot of cornflakes,
Thats a whole lot of cornflakes,
Near enough to feed new york till 1973
Near enough to feed new york till 1973
Cultivation is my station and the nation
Cultivation is my station and the nation
Buys my corn from me immediately
Buys my corn from me immediately
And holding sixty thousand bucks, I watch as dumper trucks
And holding sixty thousand bucks, I watch as dumper trucks
Tip new yorks corn flakes in the sea
Tip new yorks corn flakes in the sea
Now Im a farmer, and Im digging, digging, digging, digging, digging
Now Im a farmer, and Im digging, digging, digging, digging, digging
Now Im a farmer, and Im digging, digging, digging, digging, digging
Now Im a farmer, and Im digging, digging, digging, digging, digging
Its alarming how charming it is to be a-farming
Its alarming how charming it is to be a-farming
How calming and balming the effect of the air
How calming and balming the effect of the air
Now look here son
Now look here son

[...] Read more

song performed by Who
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Rubaiyat Of A Robin - After Edward Fitzgerald - Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam

Jest plays with rubaiyat and, four by four,
unseals for your amusement more and more
verses together thread in rosary
unreeled to bloom till tomb will curtains draw.

Repealed are value judgement and perspective
revealed through standpoint purely introspective,
darkside concealed of moon’s yin-yang shines clear
when we’re in orbit, - option more effective.

Rolled form performs rôle midwife to perception,
sprung tongue in cheek, tweaks sense of imperfection
or willingness to leach between the lines,
impeach entrenched ideas of self-[s]election.

This prose arose as stream deprived of section,
where ‘dip at will’ will still sustain inspection,
the current’s sense, at odds with current views
ignores round holes, square pegs, top-down direction.

Here there’s no fear of critics’ peer rejection,
contention treated with due circumspection
intention is to mention for retention
an overview or clue to extrospection.

Life’s curtains are a veil through which few see,
as many haste taste-waste eternity,
mixed up, ignore life fixes finite sum
to/through infinite opportunity.

Can “Truth” exist? all ask, who seek its core,
we, modest, etch our words to sketch the score,
diverse the verses which converge to link
reflections mirrored many times before.

Vast content, style, a while, united are,
aim at soul stimulation, nothing bar,
to pleasure, treasure, or discard at will
as minds outreach to other minds on par.

Meditating, we shed light on what
tomorrow’s tot may factor into ‘bot’ -
the poet’s lot, forgot, to help all think
ahead of time, enhance life for a lot

Some seek Nirvana, Faith speaks more than “how”.
Others reject Salvation’s wraith, - w[h]ine “now”.
Verifying facts? Inventing dreams?
Each furrow-burrows with a different plough.

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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35

Some are not really causes
But just symptoms
And we misdiagnose
A sickness
For a symptom
Of the real sickness

The cause
And the effect
Are often interchanged

For instance
Is poverty the cause
Of crime
Or is poverty
Only the symptom
Of it?

For instance
Is ignorance
The cause of poverty
Or is it simply
An effect of poverty?

Or is poverty
Nothing but an effect
Of ignorance?

Or is poverty
Just an effect
Of an oppression
Of the rich
Taking much
From the poor
Who gets poorer
Everyday
Because there
Are no reforms
Coming
To solve
His poverty
His ignorance
His having to commit a crime
To survive
His poverty
His ignorance
His being a crime
Of
Society itself
who never cared

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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About The Cause And The Effect

Some are not really causes
But just symptoms
And we misdiagnose
A sickness
For a symptom
Of the real sickness

The cause
And the effect
Are often interchanged

For instance
Is poverty the cause
Of crime
Or is poverty
Only the symptom
Of it?

For instance
Is ignorance
The cause of poverty
Or is it simply
An effect of poverty?

Or is poverty
Nothing but an effect
Of ignorance?

Or is poverty
Just an effect
Of an oppression
Of the rich
Taking much
From the poor
Who gets poorer
Everyday
Because there
Are no reforms
Coming
To solve
His poverty
His ignorance
His having to commit a crime
To survive
His poverty
His ignorance
His being a crime
Of
Society itself
who never cared

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cause and effect

Some are not really causes
But just symptoms
And we misdiagnose
A sickness
For a symptom
Of the real sickness

The cause
And the effect
Are often interchanged

For instance
Is poverty the cause
Of crime
Or is poverty
Only the symptom
Of it?

For instance
Is ignorance
The cause of poverty
Or is it simply
An effect of poverty?

Or is poverty
Nothing but an effect
Of ignorance?

Or is poverty
Just an effect
Of an oppression
Of the rich
Taking much
From the poor
Who gets poorer
Everyday
Because there
Are no reforms
Coming
To solve
His poverty
His ignorance
His having to commit a crime
To survive
His poverty
His ignorance
His being a crime
Of
Society itself
who never cared

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An Essay on Criticism

Part I

INTRODUCTION. That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public. That a true Taste is as rare to be found as a true Genius. That most men are born with some Taste, but spoiled by false education. The multitude of Critics, and causes of them. That we are to study our own Taste, and know the limits of it. Nature the best guide of judgment. Improved by Art and rules, which are but methodized Nature. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them.

'Tis hard to say if greater want of skill
Appear in writing or in judging ill;
But of the two less dangerous is th'offence
To tire our patience than mislead our sense:
Some few in that, but numbers err in this;
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
A fool might once himself alone expose;
Now one in verse makes many more in prose.

'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
In Poets as true Genius is but rare,
True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share;
Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light,
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well;
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,
But are not Critics to their judgment too?

Yet if we look more closely, we shall find
Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:
Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right:
But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced,
Is by ill col'ring but the more disgraced,
So by false learning is good sense defaced:
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools:
In search of wit these lose their common sense,
And then turn Critics in their own defence:
Each burns alike, who can or cannot write,
Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite.
All fools have still an itching to deride,
And fain would be upon the laughing side.
If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spite,
There are who judge still worse than he can write.

Some have at first for Wits, then Poets pass'd;
Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain Fools at last.
Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass,
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
Those half-learn'd witlings, numerous in our isle,
As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,

[...] Read more

poem by Alexander Pope
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Just Like That

All of my life I had observed those,
Who sacrificed...
In the pursuit of their dreams.
And doing what it took,
It seemed.
Even if that meant forever...
Holding onto that,
Wish
In the hope that it would happen!

Up for days and nights.
Sometimes not having a bite to eat.
Some I knew,
Even slept on streets.
Back then when they had them so strong!

And I have come to admire people like that!
People who attacked their obstacles.
People who aren't seeking standing ovations.
People who aren't seeking a title to bear.
People who wear their dignity and pride.
People who keep their dreams alive inside themselves!
People who may cry and hide their tears.
People who for many years...
Hold on to dreams with a smile!
And I have come to admire people like that.

I have come to admire people like that!
People who care sincerely for others.
And sometimes disregarding their own needs.
Sparing their own they could easily declare.
People like that are not everywhere.
And I have come to admire people like that!

Despite their sacrifices.
Inspite of the fact...
That may have gotten themselves off track.
Inspite of that...
They would fight and struggle,
To get themselves right back to continue...
To shuffle or maintain a bustle to hustle on!

I've come to admire them!
And I aspire to be...
Just like that!
Despite any setbacks,
My dreams should be kept alive!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Task: Book III. -- The Garden

As one who, long in thickets and in brakes
Entangled, winds now this way and now that
His devious course uncertain, seeking home;
Or, having long in miry ways been foil’d,
And sore discomfited, from slough to slough
Plunging, and half despairing of escape;
If chance at length he finds a greensward smooth
And faithful to the foot, his spirits rise,
He chirrups brisk his ear-erecting steed,
And winds his way with pleasure and with ease:
So I, designing other themes, and call’d
To adorn the Sofa with eulogium due,
To tell its slumbers, and to paint its dreams,
Have rambled wide. In country, city, seat
Of academic fame (howe’er deserved),
Long held, and scarcely disengaged at last.
But now with pleasant pace a cleanlier road
I mean to tread. I feel myself at large,
Courageous, and refresh’d for future toil,
If toil awaits me, or if dangers new.

Since pulpits fail, and sounding boards reflect
Most part an empty ineffectual sound,
What chance that I, to fame so little known,
Nor conversant with men or manners much,
Should speak to purpose, or with better hope
Crack the satiric thong? ‘Twere wiser far
For me, enamour’d of sequester’d scenes,
And charm’d with rural beauty, to repose,
Where chance may throw me, beneath elm or vine,
My languid limbs, when summer sears the plains;
Or, when rough winter rages, on the soft
And shelter’d Sofa, while the nitrous air
Feeds a blue flame, and makes a cheerful hearth;
There, undisturb’d by Folly, and apprised
How great the danger of disturbing her,
To muse in silence, or at least confine
Remarks that gall so many to the few,
My partners in retreat. Disgust conceal’d
Is ofttimes proof of wisdom, when the fault
Is obstinate, and cure beyond our reach.

Domestic Happiness, thou only bliss
Of Paradise that has survived the fall!
Though few now taste thee unimpair’d and pure,
Or tasting long enjoy thee! too infirm,
Or too incautious, to preserve thy sweets
Unmix’d with drops of bitter, which neglect
Or temper sheds into thy crystal cup;
Thou art the nurse of Virtue, in thine arms

[...] Read more

poem by William Cowper
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Apocalypse

Volcanic aerosols tend to block the needed sunlight
And contribute to short term cooling, but it's not perfect.
Volcanoes emit carbon dioxide, which is not alright..
It's a greenhouse gas, which has a warming effect.

Moreover, its level is already more higher than usual
And it determines to increase the global temperature.
When temperatures become warmer, it's not normal,
And carbon is released from the oceans., for sure.

The volume of this gas has increased, exceeding
The thirty five percent in the last three hundred years.
This increase is due to human being induced burning
]From fossil fuels, deforestation and industry, with no fears.

Carbon dioxide is an important greenhouse gas.
The human caused an increase in its concentration
And the atmosphere has strengthened the greenhouse
Effect, contributing to global warming without salvation.

Carbon dioxide is also naturally exchanged between
The air and life through the processes of photosynthesis.
The respiration of organism and levels of ozone have been
Decreasing due to the buildup of human chlorofluorocarbons.

Scientists have noticed the development of severe large holes
In the ozone layer very dramatically and it's not very strange
That they have noticed the plate tectonics movements and volcanoes
Eruption, the carbon cycle having a major effect on the climate change.

The stages of Snowball Earth are an example of this imbalances.
The effects snowball earth is characterized by large areas of glaciation,
Were they countered when volcanic activity and tectonic forces
Allowed carbon dioxide to build up big further concentrations.

The plate tectonics, through the formation of volcanoes with their action
Works with the carbon cycle, it is the tectonic forces which release
Carbon through degassing and entrap carbon during subduction.
This relationship has occurred most in the break up and increase

The formation of continents having on climate the resulting effect.
The breakup of Pangea left many small continents so scattered
On the globe and the broken land became surrounded by suspect
Sources of moisture and carbon dioxide is taken by rainfall, so red,

Out of the air, making the erosion and weathering of continental rocks
To occur at a faster rate and this, in turn, reduces the amount of carbon
Dioxide in the atmosphere resulting in a fall of temperature, which blocks

[...] Read more

poem by Marieta Maglas
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Fools gawp at masterpieces - wise men set out to outdo masterpieces.

English proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Masterpieces

Masterpieces
are not just found
in Paris Louvre
hung upon a wall

in Sistine Chapel
painted upon
ceiling old walls
masterpieces

can be frequent found
closer to sight home
hung in variant places
see all admission free

not just with two eyes
hear touch taste feel
absorb through senses
in skin caress breezes

poem by Terence George Craddock
Added by Poetry Lover
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