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Sometimes, an afternoon spent in bed with someone can be the most important thing in the universe.

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To Spend Time With Someone Equally Experienced

Wanting the best quality of life,
One can get...
Seems an outdated desire these days.
Especially when the having of things and money,
Is associated with acquiring happiness and contentment.

Turned into rubbish and trashed should be these thoughts.

Being able to purchase anything,
Has never brought into one's life a peace of mind.
Not a dime has been spent for it.
Unless a lottery win made the difference.
And in that case...
Some exceptions to the rules are made.

However...
Wanting the best quality of life,
One can get...
Should not be an option.
A preference,
Or a choice one makes after weeding through the spice and variety...
Life is 'rumored' to bring with an attachment of joy.

But...
It does seem,
That adventuring from one's comfort zone...
Eventually pinpoints a basicness of a life lived,
Is ultimately wished.
With a desire to spend time with someone equally experienced.
Freeing one to enjoy instead of find explanation,
For every little thing that is witnessed.
Or listening to someone complain about bugs flying around,
While strolling leisurely through a forest.

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In Love With Someone Else Man

It's thee craziest thought that comes to mind, when I take the time to think about that glass of wine when I'm alone...with him. And he's sneaking behind and lying to you,  while he's making love to me to. He's married And! I really can't believe he was hiding that secret from me, that ring, with words saying I do! I thought it was a dream that I could not wake up from.  But I didn't give a flying ****because  when he's next to me the ring I didn't  really care to see, when he and I are between one another sheets. He's married! ! ! ! ! ! Wow  I just can't let that go, well i guess ill go with the flow for now. But it shows little here and there who I'm kidding every where in my entire body, mentally, physically  theres a disconnect and he's telling me    that he's not ****** her  when  i saw him with my own eyes kissing her neck but tells me he's connected to me,  and clearly he's ***** HER under his covers and sheets.
 I mat him first, but  he proposed to her, and yes that hurts. There's not a day that goes by that I really want to cry, but cant shake off this feeling for this guy, whom I fallen so deeply for when I tried to cut him back he calls me and more. I just want to throw the phone on the floor but I answered it any way with tears falling from my eyes down on my face, I no its a wast of my dam time to listen when he brings up our first time that we were kissing,  and that did it! ! ! ! I     allowed him to sleep with me in my bed between each others sheets  for  days, and weeks, and years! ! ! ! But at night I have to fight the feeling that this guy is between the  sheets with  his wife whom he said I DO to.....In love with someone else's man. Whose really GAY
           Sir Clarence of greater.

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With Someone Like You

I want to play with someone like you,
I want to eat with someone like you,
I want to learn with someone like you,
I want to work with someone like you,
I want to cook with someone like you,
I want to walk with someone like you,
I want to sit beside someone like you;
So, tell me if you are the one.

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Will I Go To Bed With You

Will I?
I dunno, I might like you enough
in Chicago
enough to go to bed with you
yes, maybe Chicago in the fall
but come to think of it, sorry, no
not even in Chicago, not even in the fall
But perhaps, maybe in Vienna
yes, i'm certain of it now
Definitely in Vienna
yes, in Vienna in the spring,
I would go to bed with you
But Then
it isn't spring, we aren't in Vienna
so No

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~Stand Still With Me~~

...Of all the moments, that i could ever savor,
This TIME, it would be spent with you-
Courting our: High Esteem, together,
Dressed up in love, are we two...

You know what i mean don't you?
Someone to: 'Stand Still' in TIME with, in the rain?
Or to braise our naked bodies under the sun,
With SomeOne, to erase, the daily pain?

I do believe that with you-
That the seconds and minutes will show,
That: 'Standing Still' together-
Will make a way, for sweet love to grow!

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Ever Fallen In Love With Someone (lyrics)

You spurn my natural emotions
You make me feel like dirt
And I'm hurt
And if I start a commotion
I run the risk of losing you
And that's worse

Ever fallen in love with someone
Ever fallen in love
In love with someone
Ever fallen in love
In love with someone
You shouldn't've fallen in love with

I can't see much of a future
Unless we find out what's to blame
What a shame
And we won't be together much longer
Unless we realize that we are the same

Ever fallen in love with someone
Ever fallen in love
In love with someone
Ever fallen in love
In love with someone
You shouldn't've fallen in love with

You disturb my natural emotions
You make me feel like dirt
And I'm hurt
And if I start a commotion
I'll only end up losing you
And that's worse

Ever fallen in love with someone
Ever fallen in love
In love with someone
Ever fallen in love
In love with someone
You shouldn't've fallen in love with

Ever fallen in love with someone
Ever fallen in love
In love with someone
Ever fallen in love
In love with someone
You shouldn't've fallen in love with
Fallen in love with
Ever fallen in love with someone
You shouldn't've fallen in love with

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The Poet At Seventeen

My youth? I hear it mostly in the long, volleying
Echoes of billiards in the pool hall where
I spent it all, extravagantly, believing
My delicate touch on a cue would last for years.

Outside the vineyards vanished under rain,
And the trees held still or seemed to hold their breath
When the men I worked with, pruning orchards, sang
Their lost songs: Amapola; La Paloma;

Jalisco; No Te Rajes -- the corny tunes
Their sons would just as soon forget, at recess,
Where they lounged apart in small groups of their own.
Still, even when they laughed, they laughed in Spanish.

I hated high school then, & on weekends drove
A tractor through the widowed fields. It was so boring
I memorized poems above the engine's monotone.
Sometimes whole days slipped past without my noticing.

And birds of all kinds flew in front of me then.
I learned to tell them apart by their empty squabblings,
The slightest change in plumage, or the inflection
Of a call. And why not admit it? I was happy.

Then, I believed in no one. I had the kind
Of solitude the world usually allows
Only to kings & criminals who are extinct,
Who disdain this world, & who rot, corrupt & shallow

As fields I disced: I turned up the same gray
Earth for years. Still, the land made a glum raisin
Each autumn, & made that little hell of days --
The vines must have seemed like cages to the Mexicans.

Who were paid seven cents a tray for the grapes
They picked. Inside the vines it was hot, & spiders
Strummed their emptiness. Black Widow, Daddy Longlegs.
The vine canes whipped our faces. None of us cared.

And the girls I talked to after class
Sailed by, then each night lay enthroned in my bed,
With nothing on but the jewels of their embarrassment.
Eyes, lips, dreams. No one. The sky & the road.

A life like that? It seemed to go on forever --
Reading poems in school, then driving a stuttering tractor
Warm afternoons, then billiards on blue October
Nights. The thick stars. But mostly now I remember

The trees, wearing their mysterious yellow sullenness
Like party dresses. And parties I didn't attend.
And then the first ice hung like spider lattices
Or the embroideries of Great Aunt No One,

And then the first dark entering the trees --
And inside, the adults with their cocktails before dinner,
The way they always seemed afraid of something,
And sat so rigidly, although the land was theirs.

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Dante In The Laundromat Journeys Further Into Hell Beginning With Two Lines From The Book

At some false semblance in the twilight gloom
that from this terror you may free yourself
posthaste, gracelessly cast out, the closing
hour now come, caught in 'spin cycle' after
'hard rinse, ' an entire bottle of fabric softener
cannot unstiffen mythic threads,

the ancient weaves fray,
displace, are 'undone, so many'
beneath the winnowing rotors
that beat, beat with hope,
slosh, wash all sins away.

Yet gathers the dirt,
there's more sin ahead
heady in floral scents.

After midnight, beneath
bright florescence I read
Dante, his Inferno, of Hell's
seven rungs, my last quarter
gone, and clothes, two baskets
still to dry.

The guide book sums:


'Level 2

You have come to a place mute of all light,
where the wind bellows as the sea does in a
tempest. This is the realm where the lustful
spend eternity. Here, sinners are blown around
endlessly by the unforgiving winds of unquenchable
desire as punishment for their transgressions.
The infernal hurricane that never rests hurtles
the spirits onward in its rapine, whirling them
round, and smiting, it molests them. You have
betrayed reason at the behest of your appetite
for pleasure, and so here you are doomed to remain.

Cleopatra and Helen of Troy
are two that share in your fate.' **


Not bad company

but no quarter to pay
for Virgil's rude company
here, now, grizzled,
uncensored keeper of
the Seven Stories of Suds.


The lousy dryer tears
my shirts, cycles for
only 7 minutes as is
the seven rungs a quarter,
just one quarter more,
one thinks, prays, hopes,
seeking upon the dirty
tiles beneath metal
folding chairs for 'just
one more' to stay warm
enough before venturing
further, slog through
Level Two with damp
laundry, a sleety night
in cold Manhattan,

a view of distant
bridges busy with light,
motion,

the spanned river,
dark, spins toward
the deeper East;
a Star there was
once a great matter,
one of the better
nights of the world
it is believed.

Closing hour.

Virgil tightly keeps
to the time, lights

die of sudden death,
glass door solid

with blackness locked,
metal gate rattles

its chain, slams shut,
and the sidewalk shakes,

a cigarette lit,
he bolts away

(perhaps knowing
a better route) .


I am plunged
without advantage
of guiding light
into darkness,
abject, lifting
wet clothes upon
my back cursing

all clothes, the need
of them, calling in
the empty street for

'a break from woven
bondage, for return
to infantile nakedness
unspoiled but for
first shock of lumped
beingness spilling
into redundant mangers,

the maulings to come
not yet at the door
but foretold of old
in some night sky
of the world.'


I haul forth then,
outspoken
but not unburdened,
but called out,


but cast out,
shed needles on
walks' edge thin,
tree limbs naked
but for tinsel cling,
shades of a Bethlehem
Star, stretched,
wrinkled, blowing
to gutter, sticking
to shoe,


the heavy human round,

spin cycle,

night slowly unwinds.


I descend,

pass time till dawn,
hung laundry strung

out dries over chairs,
towel racks;

in dim basement room I
turn another page, red handed.

To companions in Fate I
read another passage to keep,
or return us, on track,

O Virgil,

in this long night where we wait in flagrante.***

I have broken my back lifting
all these my loves up to heaven.

**Quoted from this website:
http: //www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information .html

***Latin: in blazing offense. A legal term meaning
'caught in the act, ' 'red-handed.' Also is sometimes
used colloquially as a euphemism for someone being
caught in the act of sexual intercourse

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Charles Baudelaire

Tu mettrais l'univers entier dans ta ruelle (You Would Take The Whole World To Bed With You)

Tu mettrais l'univers entier dans ta ruelle,
Femme impure! L'ennui rend ton âme cruelle.
Pour exercer tes dents à ce jeu singulier,
Il te faut chaque jour un coeur au râtelier.
Tes yeux, illuminés ainsi que des boutiques
Et des ifs flamboyants dans les fêtes publiques,
Usent insolemment d'un pouvoir emprunté,
Sans connaître jamais la loi de leur beauté.

Machine aveugle et sourde, en cruautés féconde!
Salutaire instrument, buveur du sang du monde,
Comment n'as-tu pas honte et comment n'as-tu pas
Devant tous les miroirs vu pâlir tes appas?
La grandeur de ce mal où tu te crois savante
Ne t'a donc jamais fait reculer d'épouvante,
Quand la nature, grande en ses desseins cachés
De toi se sert, ô femme, ô reine des péchés,
— De toi, vil animal, — pour pétrir un génie?

Ô fangeuse grandeur! sublime ignominie!

You Would Take the Whole World to Bed with You

You would take the whole world to bed with you,
Impure woman! Ennui makes your soul cruel;
To exercise your teeth at this singular game,
You need a new heart in the rack each day.
Your eyes, brilliant as shop windows
Or as blazing lamp-stands at public festivals,
Insolently use a borrowed power
Without ever knowing the law of their beauty.

Blind, deaf machine, fecund in cruelties!
Remedial instrument, drinker of the world's blood,
Why are you not ashamed and why have you not seen
In every looking-glass how your charms are fading?
Why have you never shrunk at the enormity
Of this evil at which you think you are expert,
When Nature, resourceful in her hidden designs,
Makes use of you, woman, O queen of sin,
Of you, vile animal, — to fashion a genius?

O foul magnificence! Sublime ignominy!


— Translated by William Aggeler

You'd Stick the World into Your Bedside Lane

You'd stick the world into your bedside lane.
It's boredom makes you callous to all pain.
To exercise your teeth for this strange task,
A heart upon a rake, each day, you'd ask.
Your eyes lit up like shopfronts, or the trees
With lanterns on the night of public sprees,
Make insolent misuse of borrowed power
And scorn the law of beauty that's their dower.

Oh deaf-and-dumb machine, harm-breeding fool
World sucking leech, yet salutary tool!
Have you not seen your beauties blanch to pass
Before their own reflection in the glass?
Before this pain, in which you think you're wise,
Does not its greatness shock you with surprise,
To think that Nature, deep in projects hidden,
Has chosen you, vile creature of the midden,
To knead a genius for succeeding time.

O sordid grandeur! Infamy sublime!


— Translated by Roy Campbell

Tyranny of Woman

Aye, you would bed with the whole universe,
Lewd woman! Ennui makes your soul perverse;
Cruel, you whet your teeth at this weird play,
You need a fresh heart in the rack each day.
Your eyes blaze like illumined shops or lights
Of serried lamps on festive public nights,
They use a borrowed puissance haughtily
Unconscious of their beauty's tyranny.

Blind, deaf machine, geared to increase man's pain,
Tool primed to suckle blood from his last vein,
Have you no shame when every looking glass
Betrays your faded beauties as you pass,
When cunning Nature's hidden plans begin
To use you, beast! woman, vile queen of sin,
To fashion genius in carnality?

O shameless might! Sublime ignominy!


— Translated by Jacques LeClercq

You'd Take the Entire Universe to Bed with You

You'd take the entire universe to bed with you,
I think, just out of boredom, you lecherous, idle shrew!
You need, to keep your teeth sound, exercise your jaws,
Daily, for dinner, some new heart between your paws!
Your eyes, all lighted up like shops, like public fairs,
How insolent they are! — as if their power were theirs
Indeed! — this borrowed power, this Beauty, you direct
And use, whose law, however, you do not suspect.

Unwholesome instrument for health, O deaf machine
And blind, fecund in tortures! — how is it you have not seen,
You drinker of the world's blood, your mirrored loveliness
Blench and recoil? how is it you feel no shame? confess:
Has never, then, this evil's very magnitude
Caused you to stagger? — you, who think yourself so shrewd
In evil? — seeing how Nature, patient and abstruse —
O Woman, Queen of Sins, Vile Animal, — has made use
Of you, to mould a genius? — employed you all this time?

O muddy grandeur! — ignominy ironic and sublime!


— Translated by Edna St. Vincent Millay

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Still Life With Coffee Can, Father, River, Bell, Mouse, Lover Fled

[poet's note to the reader:
read the 'x's' as the word
'times' as in multiplication]


This

just to
reintroduce some
levity

for we (loves)
were many day-ed

x merry

we merrily played
harming no one,
not even the
mouse unmoved

perhaps, watching
perhaps, still,
still, from beneath
the god you insisted
be excluded from
all our nakedness

x 1 too many breaths

exchanged, groped

x many ropes all our

wanting

I stand behind
them the curtained
dancer entranced
entered into/
upon a mystery
how one could
be so, well,
swell, so
marvelous &
so cruel upon
one silver stem
hangs the metal
tin top jags
tears at
memory edge
opens facts

now you, love
are new memory
hands emptier
sensitive finger-
tips filigreed
prints your
body hairs
sifted imprinted
touching softly
x all the x's
here accounted
for, listed,
besos as kisses
scribbles, notes,
letters,
no matter
the black or
blue tide

of thee
O lover

what
slips out
ebbs black
back into lapis

lapses into what
self is

uttered/poured,
scored trans-
parent upon
surfaces

faces which are
even eyes which
now glaze with
love/loss

beside the flue

glaze upon the
pane

black
mouse remains

stays,
is many,
a multitude
of petals

x 3

the jasmine
unspurned
at last

at last/least
O return
soft Junes
the lips of
which are
sometimes
pink, of
lavender
swollen, as if
to kiss

x memory

x 3

the antinomies

a string

of pearls

anemones

& thee O lover

bring all them

back, so many,

to me now

memory

torques

into soft

teas

June

steeps

turns

steaming

said window

(and torsos)

said prints

views obscured

of nothing

in particular

or special,

but

troubles,

troubles only

of passing birds

enamored-of

(their lighter
bones)

or

are they

cloud and shadow,

merely the steep

sun declining ashen

into New Jersey?

occluded

silhouettes

contra ils

glyphs &

Maxwell House sign

'Good To The Last Drop'

familiar
cup for decades
tipped
tips &

one

(out-spilled)

drop

x 0 suspends

O suspends trembling
reflected in the water
river made of the many

countless drops

x (again) infinity

x (surprised) my
father there
(memento mori)
opening the
can all blue with
the same cup tilted
spilling that dark
brown dropp imprinted

x (the

dove,
to recall,
brown, shaped like
said drop, now
flown, or)
finally
spilled into water,
river currents
downward, to bottom
pulled sort/sift
my father always
complaining of grift,
a weather man by trade,
a cloud man once a
pilotWW2 drifting
often since enough
into sky

he turns
the silver opener
butterflied
round and round

with effort his
arthritic com-
plaints upon the
ridged silver top
of the can blue
with coffee
'course grind'
the better to drip
with within that
satisfying hiss
compacted air
hissing out
from compression
now released
the smell
then of coffee
fresh not yet
brewed in the
kitchen

the twist of
the edge jagged
silver metal
carefully turned
with fingers to
break the remain-
ing stem of metal
holding the round
to the can entire
unsealed now try
without spilling
the grounds
out

x at least 100 thousand

to guess having no
acumen with numbers
and math but father's
over
there in the cup tilted
over
spilling into
o endlessly
it's seams,
it seems from
river bank
into memory
which is,

already
over-said
overheard
redundantly
as river
and time,

this one
now recalled
to mind,

dad

dad
the cloud drift
and the flows
the tides beside
the city

(both sides)

is as ancient
as it always was
& is

as 'in the beginning
was darkness over deep
water & a word, '
any word really
would do it,
form
something
out of deep,
of dark,
of water
which shapes
itself only
by outer
circumstance
in this case
a word
leading up to
this -


Palisades cliffs
above bridge

allude perhaps
to river at
city's start
up from water

the silver bay
capped, remembering
centuries' frigates

x countless

ferries torn

and Tories be-
tween seas
wars
vast to
the east

x duplicating

waves, stretches

the narrows

the necks with
rocks strewn,

the lonely buoyless
waves over depths

their vespers
intone

once was laughter
spent

seeking out
between bodies

continents
valleys eternally

shifting eluding
rapture

x 1 whisper

contraction
of sentinel
bells against
each of each

reaching

x 2,

the clappers

x 20,000

(of bells
anatomy there
is much to
say
(of the
elements,
zinc, copper,
tin, & more
while not for-
getting brass
more commonly
used)
of infusion
into cuppolas

the beating
the shaping
heat also to
be given account
amounts much into
bells conformed
gracefully out
in the end,

but only
as metal,
sharp tongues
blunted can of
bells then speak

tonally only

overtones inviolate

in violent swings
side to side the
hard knock shocks
into quakes into
belfry beyond
dance of iron
bronze overtaking
& annunciate
round of hammers)

so many dawns

x so many goings

down of the sun

x fortune the lips

x myriad ones gone

before of murmurers

O lover


of thee

I adore


in timbre

thru the

window rings

(the bells)

the arms

of which

too

wring out

breath to

breath

x no more

embraces

into indolence


This

(yet)

again

(late
offering)

just to
reintroduce some
levity

for we

(loves)

were many day-ed

x merry we

merrily played
harming no one,
not even the
mouse unmoved

perhaps, watching
perhaps, still,

still, from beneath
the god you insisted
be excluded from
all our nakedness

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Cameron Diaz

I don't want to go to work and get into bed with someone else, not even Tom Cruise. It's not like I enjoy it.

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Elton John

There is nothing wrong with going to bed with someone of your own sex. People should be very free with sex, they should draw the line at goats.

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Why can't you share your bed? The most loving thing to do is to share your bed with someone. It's very charming. It's very sweet. It's what the whole world should do.

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With Every Glance At The World Around Us

With every glance at the world around us,
on nature, on the humanity of other people
our existence is enriched,

it is with new eyes that we look upon our world
experiencing the colours, odours en and touch of the wind,
where a smile cut to the dephts of the heart

and sometimes we still feel steam-rolled away,
aching into the heart and soul
as if our lives are decaying
and things seems totally out of control

until something lets us deviate from our normal way of live,
when we walk into another world.

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With eyes closed against the bright light

With eyes closed against the bright light
of the new morning, shadows creep into my thoughts
shadows and longings to lost love
and the way that things were supposed to be
and I wonder why life has stripped you from me
and there are no answers that I see
in the blinding light of reality
and sometimes it feels like, looks like
as if even every ant, every insect has a destiny designed
and it feels as if the world
gives choices, that mornings comes with clarity
but for me
who keeps struggling on
as if stuck in the labyrinth of destiny.

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Confession

I summoned my courage
To help me manage
Whatever the reply is,
Coz' I don't want to cry about this

I asked you one question
But you gave me a suggestion
I don't know if it means yes or a no
But can you tell me already so I'll know

I allowed myself to be hopeful
Each day is so blissful
Every day I am very cheerful
I always think I am so fateful

But after a few days
I saw you with someone else
All the days that I spent being hopeful
Now my heart is so painful

Now I understand
Your suggestion was to protect me
How foolish of me to misunderstood.

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One Day Someone Will Say The Same Of Me

The hearse through the main street is passing slow
With the funeral cars following in a single row
Is the dead person a he or a she?
One day someone will say the same of me.

And did that person die young or old
And will her or his life story be told?
To the departed that does not matter 'twould seem
As the dead do not have a sense of self esteem.

The funeral towards the cemetery winds it's way
Up through the main street at noon of day
But on the cortege shoppers no interest show
As in and out of shops they go.

The dead from the Land of the living gone
But life for the living must go on
And the same fate surely awaits you and I
As the dead person in the hearse going by.

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A Thankful Smile

My daily appearance is Mr nice guy and pleasant,
there’s no time to throw a fit of temperament.
Many people rely on me to smile and understand,
listen to their problems, and give a helping hand.

If only they knew about the pain that I have to bear,
it would fill them with an even greater despair.
They might curiously ask why I choose everyday
to walk a hilly path, with problems along the way.

They also might say that I should be at home in bed,
with someone to look after me instead.
But I’m not one, who can just lie and wait to die,
I have to help the less fortunate, well at least try.

With the time I've left I have to do something,
something that makes my heart sing.
Something that'll make my life seem worthwhile,
even if it's only a thankful smile.

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Little Glimpse

Sight or little glimpse of dear one
Makes us feel good for some one
As we are social animal and need company
This aspect is mostly realized by many

It makes you cry
When you are unhappy and annoyed
What makes you restless at that time?
Little comfort and company make us happy sometimes

We can take refuge in friend’s company
It may be required as first step to accompany
It adds to color in life long journey
Life becomes joyful and worries free

You have no regret about it there after
Life is spent with roaring laughter
There is distinct possibly of going it wrong
As you are luckiest fellow among

Life, goal, happiness may soon follow
You have to steer the course or to allow
Wish and try it happens in right direction
Rest all depends on your determination

Most important thing in life is satisfaction
Whatever you do must be matched with your action
Life can’t be taken that easily
As fruits do not ripe on tree that easily

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I Roamed With Anger Out Of The House

I roamed with anger out of the house.
My bosom filled with rage
My eyes with pride
My head with stubbornness.


And then
I saw the dawn arise – for it was dawn
At the beginning – and the sea was fresh
Still and naked from the nocturnal cloth
That covered it – now it lay
Listless as in a bed half-wake, half-sleeping:
I saw the rays - the rays of light increase
And turn to more yellow, more golden-fringed
And from the tree – the tree that looks
Down from the bastions – a small bird chirped
A startling song – perhaps a lay of love
Perhaps a dirge – perhaps an elegy.
I walked along the road that overlooks
The city bastions – long and old
And ancient the bastions with a kindly eye
Looked on the shore below and the over-lapping waves
I drank the wine of morn and of the dawn
Refreshing my throat from the old bastions
And looked upon the first sail-boats
Issuing from the rooms beneath the bastions
Dragged to the shore -


And then
And then
I threw the garb of my anger away -
And in my eye
There shone the happiness of the rising day
And forgiving forgetfulness.

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