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My masculinity isn't hinged on whether or not I knit.

quote by Robin Green
Added by Lucian Velea
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Stuck With Mixed Emotions

You've got me,
Locked.
You've got me hinged.
You've got my heart to open up.
But you keep yours,
Hidden within.

I am locked.
And magnetized.
I feel as if a need is clinging,
To never let this feeling end.

You've got me locked.
You've got me hinged.
You've got my heart to open up.
But...
Your door stays closed within.

What am I to do?
You've got me stuck with mixed emotions.
What am I to do?
I can't saddle up and leave.

What am I to do?
You've got me stuck with mixed emotions.
And,
I'd rather not be sure...
Than be sure I've been delusioned.

You've got me locked.
You've got me hinged.
You've got my heart to open up.
But...
Your door stays closed within.

What am I to do?
You've got me stuck with mixed emotions.
What am I to do?
I can't saddle up and leave.
What am I to do?
You've got me stuck with mixed emotions.
And,
I'd rather not be sure...
Than be sure I've been delusioned.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fantasy Man

I don't drink tea
Or white chablis
I sit around and watch TV
Don't send flowers
Or take showers
But I'll be there to pull your weeds
Oh,yeah
I dont read books
I dont french cook
Or stroll around in galleries
I hate opera
I hate Operah
Don't fill my head with poetry
You just want to squeeze my masculinity
Why can't you leave it alone?
Hey,hey I ain't gonna' change
Hey,hey don't you love me this way
Hey,hey I am what I am
So please understand
I'm not your fantasy man
I don't do dishes
And I'm suspricious
Of any grown up man does
I'm homophobie
Don't do aerobics
Just lay around and catch a buzz
You just want to squeeze my masculinity
Why can't you leave it alone?
Hey,hey I ain't gonna' change
Hey,hey don't you love me this way
Hey,hey I am what I am
So please understand
I'm not your fantasy man
Say hey,hey,hey,hey
You just want to squeeze my masculinity
Why can't you leave it alone?
Hey,hey I ain't gonna' change
Hey,hey don't you love me this way
Hey,hey I am what I am
So please understand
I'm not your fantasy man

song performed by Alice Cooper
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Broken Heart Within

A broken heart within me knows,
What loneliness is...
When it is left to linger,
And slowly grows to wither in wishes!

A happiness living outside is dismissed.
For what it is.
Because it isn't felt,
From inside...
With a gladness that appears.

It's much too late to date a memory!
When fading ushers its leaving.
No one else can see it drift.
Yet an emptiness is hinged...
To a pain remaining that is grieving,
Within.

Time gone,
Like the wind blows,
Never returns again!
Not to visit in inquisitive sits...
With the one excited to be near,
In benefitted moments held dear.

It's much too late to date a memory!
When fading ushers its leaving.
No one else can see it drift.
Yet an emptiness is hinged...
To a pain remaining that is grieving,
Within.

A broken heart within me knows,
What loneliness is...
When it is left to linger,
And slowly grows to wither in wishes!

A happiness living outside is dismissed.
For what it is.
Because it isn't felt,
From inside...
With a gladness that appears.

Time gone,
Like the wind blows,
Never returns again!
Not to visit in inquisitive sits...
With the one excited to be near
In benefitted moments held dear.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Dresser

AN old man bending, I come, among new faces,
Years looking backward, resuming, in answer to children,
Come tell us, old man, as from young men and maidens that love me;
Years hence of these scenes, of these furious passions, these
chances,
Of unsurpass'd heroes, (was one side so brave? the other was equally
brave;)
Now be witness again--paint the mightiest armies of earth;
Of those armies so rapid, so wondrous, what saw you to tell us?
What stays with you latest and deepest? of curious panics,
Of hard-fought engagements, or sieges tremendous, what deepest
remains?

O maidens and young men I love, and that love me, 10
What you ask of my days, those the strangest and sudden your talking
recalls;
Soldier alert I arrive, after a long march, cover'd with sweat and
dust;
In the nick of time I come, plunge in the fight, loudly shout in the
rush of successful charge;
Enter the captur'd works.... yet lo! like a swift-running river, they
fade;
Pass and are gone, they fade--I dwell not on soldiers' perils or
soldiers' joys;
(Both I remember well--many the hardships, few the joys, yet I was
content.)

But in silence, in dreams' projections,
While the world of gain and appearance and mirth goes on,
So soon what is over forgotten, and waves wash the imprints off the
sand,
In nature's reverie sad, with hinged knees returning, I enter the
doors--(while for you up there, 20
Whoever you are, follow me without noise, and be of strong heart.)

Bearing the bandages, water and sponge,
Straight and swift to my wounded I go,
Where they lie on the ground, after the battle brought in;
Where their priceless blood reddens the grass, the ground;
Or to the rows of the hospital tent, or under the roof'd hospital;
To the long rows of cots, up and down, each side, I return;
To each and all, one after another, I draw near--not one do I miss;
An attendant follows, holding a tray--he carries a refuse pail,
Soon to be fill'd with clotted rags and blood, emptied and fill'd
again. 30

I onward go, I stop,
With hinged knees and steady hand, to dress wounds;

[...] Read more

poem by Walt Whitman
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The Wound Dresser

1

AN old man bending, I come, among new faces,
Years looking backward, resuming, in answer to children,
Come tell us, old man, as from young men and maidens that love me;
(Arous'd and angry, I'd thought to beat the alarum, and urge relentless war,
but soon my fingers fail'd me, my face droop'd and I resign'd myself,
To sit by the wounded and soothe them, or silently watch the dead
Years hence of these scenes, of these furious passions, these chances,
Of unsurpass’d heroes, (was one side so brave? the other was equally brave
Now be witness again—paint the mightiest armies of earth;
Of those armies so rapid, so wondrous, what saw you to tell us?
What stays with you latest and deepest? of curious panics,
Of hard-fought engagements, or sieges tremendous, what deepest remains?

2

O maidens and young men I love, and that love me,
What you ask of my days, those the strangest and sudden your talking recalls;
Soldier alert I arrive, after a long march, cover’d with sweat and dust;
In the nick of time I come, plunge in the fight, loudly shout in the rush of successful charge;
Enter the captur’d works.... yet lo! like a swift-running river, they fade;
Pass and are gone, they fade—I dwell not on soldiers’ perils or soldiers’ joys;
(Both I remember well—many the hardships, few the joys, yet I was content.)

But in silence, in dreams’ projections,
While the world of gain and appearance and mirth goes on,
So soon what is over forgotten, and waves wash the imprints off the sand,
With hinged knees returning, I enter the doors—(while for you up there,
Whoever you are, follow me without noise, and be of strong heart.)

3

Bearing the bandages, water and sponge,
Straight and swift to my wounded I go,
Where they lie on the ground, after the battle brought in;
Where their priceless blood reddens the grass, the ground;
Or to the rows of the hospital tent, or under the roof’d hospital;
To the long rows of cots, up and down, each side, I return;

[...] Read more

poem by Walt Whitman
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A troubled mind - 1

The male mind in me, recently fallen to disgrace

It took nearly thirty years of twice-married life
For me to realize
That I have the masculinity not in my physique
But it is all in the mind only

It is also my understanding and felt-experience
That the attraction driven
Physical involvement and actions thereupon
Lead to a momentary satisfaction
Only to turn vinegary later

Further, advancing age
Does not allow an involved
Performance towards fulfillment of
The desires mooted by the stimulant

I feel that the sexual attraction in me
Is not abated
But sustained at the same level
As it was when I first realized that
I was physically matured

The turbulence of this quality of mine
Disturbs me so much that
I am weakly drawn to
The path of understanding myself
All my diplomatic skills
And other human relation experience
Fail me
To see reasoning
When it comes to attractive
Opposite gender

Till recently I was in peace and comfort
With my second wife
But now got drawn close to another woman
Who has greater appeal
And evinced interest in me
The masculinity in me drove into her
And I started being noticed by others as well
In intimacy even in public places
With this twice-married smart widow

Despite the fact that I have innumerable
Extra-marital affairs
My mind does not miss a chance
To indulge in such
Unhealthy thoughts

[...] Read more

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Womem's wiles For M'Lady Tara

When boys are young then generally
they are cared for by female kin.
But when approaching puberty
the father figures then step in.

To instil masculinity
instruct them in the ways of men.
How to act independently
and how to dominate women.

See women as inferiors,
who need to be kept in their place.
By men who are superior,
this men will state with a straight face.

But women know it is not so.
Although they let the men believe
that they admire machismo.
A woman’s way is to deceive

the male who thinks his word is law.
In each and every way she can.
That’s what women’s wiles are for.
They can run rings round any man.

Though some men know few
will admit they are aware that women rule.
Most men are quick to deny it,
which makes them easier to fool.

This women know instinctively.
So women usually get their way,
a sop to masculinity.
The only price they have to pay.

19-Jul-08

http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Falling In Love

Pupils focus, adrenalin swims
In the blood of life,
Feelings spark electrifying,
Heart upbeats
To beauties tune,
Femininity commands masculinity
In the game of love
Masculinity tremulous at the knees,
Intake of lungs air doubles
As femininity entices to please
Touch overtakes sight
In the pleasure zone
Akin to outer space, swinging on stars
Sliding down rainbows.
In the whirlpool of happiness
With insouciant natures they drowned
All their worries join hands and hearts
Falling deeply in love.

poem by Ken e Hall
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The Four Seasons : Summer

From brightening fields of ether fair disclosed,
Child of the Sun, refulgent Summer comes,
In pride of youth, and felt through Nature's depth:
He comes attended by the sultry Hours,
And ever fanning breezes, on his way;
While, from his ardent look, the turning Spring
Averts her blushful face; and earth, and skies,
All-smiling, to his hot dominion leaves.
Hence, let me haste into the mid-wood shade,
Where scarce a sunbeam wanders through the gloom;
And on the dark-green grass, beside the brink
Of haunted stream, that by the roots of oak
Rolls o'er the rocky channel, lie at large,
And sing the glories of the circling year.
Come, Inspiration! from thy hermit-seat,
By mortal seldom found: may Fancy dare,
From thy fix'd serious eye, and raptured glance
Shot on surrounding Heaven, to steal one look
Creative of the Poet, every power
Exalting to an ecstasy of soul.
And thou, my youthful Muse's early friend,
In whom the human graces all unite:
Pure light of mind, and tenderness of heart;
Genius, and wisdom; the gay social sense,
By decency chastised; goodness and wit,
In seldom-meeting harmony combined;
Unblemish'd honour, and an active zeal
For Britain's glory, liberty, and Man:
O Dodington! attend my rural song,
Stoop to my theme, inspirit every line,
And teach me to deserve thy just applause.
With what an awful world-revolving power
Were first the unwieldy planets launch'd along
The illimitable void! thus to remain,
Amid the flux of many thousand years,
That oft has swept the toiling race of men,
And all their labour'd monuments away,
Firm, unremitting, matchless, in their course;
To the kind-temper'd change of night and day,
And of the seasons ever stealing round,
Minutely faithful: such the All-perfect hand!
That poised, impels, and rules the steady whole.
When now no more the alternate Twins are fired,
And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze,
Short is the doubtful empire of the night;
And soon, observant of approaching day,
The meek'd-eyed Morn appears, mother of dews,
At first faint-gleaming in the dappled east:
Till far o'er ether spreads the widening glow;
And, from before the lustre of her face,

[...] Read more

poem by James Thomson
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Polyacrostic Palimpsest - Birthday Sonnet - Entered is Diary

Notes on Polyacrostic Palimpsests.
.
Acrostic: Verse in which certain letters form a word or message
Polyacrostic: Several acrostics within the same composition
Acrostics to be found below – in alphabetical order:
His hand her hand [twice vertically]
Entered in diary [twice vertically]
Tend a nice heart [3 times vertically] – hopefully not an ice heart
Tender is her heart [4 times diagonally]

Palimpsest: A manuscript on which more than one text is written
with earlier writing, or one level of meaning, partially visible.

Polyacrostic Palimpsest - Birthday Sonnet - Entered is Diary

Toast verse! Oh birthday sonnet that strings true
E'er stanza knit free style, link in tress kind.
None letters scan - no need since star none find -
Deeds reader here disdains, nor head dreams cue.
Art secret exam, chart, restore rare value
Nowhere shrine is named, rich tune ornate designed,
Indeed is hidden within, bis gladdening behind
Covers is meshed, scored, missed, hid, scudding through
End verse. Here lines share where none spot the clue.
Hope endowed, read Heaven's clear. Add here's signed
Erudition's rheme eked out blur, he ideas twined.
Annals are read as announced Dear, a part eschew.
Reward - roses near - reveals her in mirror bright.
To show you ardour triumphs in today's top write.

Toastverseohbirthdaysonnetthatstringstrue
Eerstanzaknitfreestylelinkintresskind
None lettersscannoneedsincestarnonefind
Deedsreader heredisdainsnorheaddreamscue
Artsecretexamchar trestorerarevalue
Nowhereshrineisnamedrichtune ornatedesigned
Indeedishiddenwithinbisgladdeni ngbehind
Coversismeshedscoredmissedhidscudding through
Endverseherelinessharewheresofewspotcl ue
HopeendowedreadheavensclearaddheressignedEruditionsrhemeekedoutblurheideastwined
Anna lsarereadasannounceddearaparteschew.
Rewardros esnearrevealsherinmirrorbright
Toshowyouardour triumphsintodaystopwrite

© Jonathan Robin polyacrostic palimpsest sonnet written 20081126 see also Birthday Mirror Below

Notes on Polyacrostic Palimpsests.
.

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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She Who Is Militant

It looks like
you were never going to be my queen
It looks like
there were to many places you wanna see
if you ever need some one
i'll be there! i'll be there!
It looks like
there are others boys that can put on a show
And its all good
cause the time each and everyone of them go
if you ever go your way
i'll be there! i'll be there!
I'd like to see you get with him
its time we settle down knit
you are
you are
if you ever go your way
i'll be there! i'll be there!
I'd like to see you get with him
its time we settle down and knit
you are
you are
you are
you are

song performed by Weezer
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Love Of The Common People

Living on free food tickets
Theres water in the milk from the hole in the roof
Where the rain came in
But what can you do
Well you got tears from your little sister
Crying cause she doesnt have a dress without a patch
For the party to go
Oh but you know that shes gonna get by
Living in the love of the common people
Smiles from the heart of the family man
Daddys gonna buy you a dream to cling to
Mamas gonna love you just as much as she can
As she can
Oh yeah
And its a good thing you dont have bus fare
It would fall through the whole in your pocket
And youd lose it in the snow on the ground
You better walk to town and find a job
Oh and you try to keep your hands warm
The hole in your shoe lets the snow come through
And it chills you to the bone
Youd better go home where its warm
You can live in the love of the common people
Smiles from the heart of the family man
Daddys gonna buy you a dream to cling to
Mamas gonna love you just as much as she can
As she can
Oh yeah
Living on a dream aint easy no
But the closer the knit the tighter the fit
And the chills stay away
We like to keep them in stride for family pride
Faith is your foundation
Got a whole lot of love and a long conversation
But dont forget to pray oh no
Its keeping us strong where we belong
Living in the love of the common people
Smiles from the heart of the family man
Daddys gonna buy you a dream to cling to
Mamas gonna love you just as much as she can
Living in the love of the common people
(you know that faith is your foundation)
Smiles from the heart of the family man
(whole lot of love and a long conversation)
Daddys gonna buy you a dream to cling to
(dont forget to pray its keeping us strong)
Mamas gonna love you just as much as she can
(where we belong)
Living in the love of the common people
(oh living on a dream aint easy)

[...] Read more

song performed by Indigo Girls
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II. Half-Rome

What, you, Sir, come too? (Just the man I'd meet.)
Be ruled by me and have a care o' the crowd:
This way, while fresh folk go and get their gaze:
I'll tell you like a book and save your shins.
Fie, what a roaring day we've had! Whose fault?
Lorenzo in Lucina,—here's a church
To hold a crowd at need, accommodate
All comers from the Corso! If this crush
Make not its priests ashamed of what they show
For temple-room, don't prick them to draw purse
And down with bricks and mortar, eke us out
The beggarly transept with its bit of apse
Into a decent space for Christian ease,
Why, to-day's lucky pearl is cast to swine.
Listen and estimate the luck they've had!
(The right man, and I hold him.)

Sir, do you see,
They laid both bodies in the church, this morn
The first thing, on the chancel two steps up,
Behind the little marble balustrade;
Disposed them, Pietro the old murdered fool
To the right of the altar, and his wretched wife
On the other side. In trying to count stabs,
People supposed Violante showed the most,
Till somebody explained us that mistake;
His wounds had been dealt out indifferent where,
But she took all her stabbings in the face,
Since punished thus solely for honour's sake,
Honoris causâ, that's the proper term.
A delicacy there is, our gallants hold,
When you avenge your honour and only then,
That you disfigure the subject, fray the face,
Not just take life and end, in clownish guise.
It was Violante gave the first offence,
Got therefore the conspicuous punishment:
While Pietro, who helped merely, his mere death
Answered the purpose, so his face went free.
We fancied even, free as you please, that face
Showed itself still intolerably wronged;
Was wrinkled over with resentment yet,
Nor calm at all, as murdered faces use,
Once the worst ended: an indignant air
O' the head there was—'t is said the body turned
Round and away, rolled from Violante's side
Where they had laid it loving-husband-like.
If so, if corpses can be sensitive,
Why did not he roll right down altar-step,
Roll on through nave, roll fairly out of church,
Deprive Lorenzo of the spectacle,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Gertrude of Wyoming

PART I

On Susquehanna's side, fair Wyoming!
Although the wild-flower on thy ruin'd wall,
And roofless homes, a sad remembrance bring,
Of what thy gentle people did befall;
Yet thou wert once the loveliest land of all
That see the Atlantic wave their morn restore.
Sweet land! may I thy lost delights recall,
And paint thy Gertrude in her bowers of yore,
Whose beauty was the love of Pennsylvania's shore!

Delightful Wyoming! beneath thy skies,
The happy shepherd swains had nought to do
But feed their flocks on green declivities,
Or skim perchance thy lake with light canoe,
From morn till evening's sweeter pastimes grew,
With timbrel, when beneath the forests brown,
Thy lovely maidens would the dance renew;
And aye those sunny mountains half-way down
Would echo flageolet from some romantic town.

Then, where of Indian hills the daylight takes
His leave, how might you the flamingo see
Disporting like a meteor on the lakes--
And playful squirrel on his nut-grown tree:
And every sound of life was full of glee,
From merry mock-bird's song, or hum of men;
While hearkening, fearing naught their revelry,
The wild deer arch'd his neck from glades, and then,
Unhunted, sought his woods and wilderness again.

And scarce had Wyoming of war or crime
Heard, but in transatlantic story rung,
For here the exile met from every clime,
And spoke in friendship every distant tongue:
Men from the blood of warring Europe sprung
Were but divided by the running brook;
And happy where no Rhenish trumpet sung,
On plains no sieging mine's volcano shook,
The blue-eyed German changed his sword to pruning-hook.

Nor far some Andalusian saraband
Would sound to many a native roundelay--
But who is he that yet a dearer land
Remembers, over hills and far away?
Green Albin! what though he no more survey
Thy ships at anchor on the quiet shore,
Thy pelloch's rolling from the mountain bay,
Thy lone sepulchral cairn upon the moor,

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Campbell
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OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII (Entire)

Strong Son of God, immortal Love,
Whom we, that have not seen thy face,
By faith, and faith alone, embrace,
Believing where we cannot prove;
Thine are these orbs of light and shade;
Thou madest Life in man and brute;
Thou madest Death; and lo, thy foot
Is on the skull which thou hast made.

Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:
Thou madest man, he knows not why,
He thinks he was not made to die;
And thou hast made him: thou art just.

Thou seemest human and divine,
The highest, holiest manhood, thou:
Our wills are ours, we know not how;
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.

Our little systems have their day;
They have their day and cease to be:
They are but broken lights of thee,
And thou, O Lord, art more than they.

We have but faith: we cannot know;
For knowledge is of things we see;
And yet we trust it comes from thee,
A beam in darkness: let it grow.

Let knowledge grow from more to more,
But more of reverence in us dwell;
That mind and soul, according well,
May make one music as before,

But vaster. We are fools and slight;
We mock thee when we do not fear:
But help thy foolish ones to bear;
Help thy vain worlds to bear thy light.

Forgive what seem’d my sin in me;
What seem’d my worth since I began;
For merit lives from man to man,
And not from man, O Lord, to thee.

Forgive my grief for one removed,
Thy creature, whom I found so fair.
I trust he lives in thee, and there
I find him worthier to be loved.

Forgive these wild and wandering cries,

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Upon Appleton House, to My Lord Fairfax

Within this sober Frame expect
Work of no Forrain Architect;
That unto Caves the Quarries drew,
And Forrests did to Pastures hew;
Who of his great Design in pain
Did for a Model vault his Brain,
Whose Columnes should so high be rais'd
To arch the Brows that on them gaz'd.

Why should of all things Man unrul'd
Such unproportion'd dwellings build?
The Beasts are by their Denns exprest:
And Birds contrive an equal Nest;
The low roof'd Tortoises do dwell
In cases fit of Tortoise-shell:
No Creature loves an empty space;
Their Bodies measure out their Place.

But He, superfluously spread,
Demands more room alive then dead.
And in his hollow Palace goes
Where Winds as he themselves may lose.
What need of all this Marble Crust
T'impark the wanton Mose of Dust,
That thinks by Breadth the World t'unite
Though the first Builders fail'd in Height?

But all things are composed here
Like Nature, orderly and near:
In which we the Dimensions find
Of that more sober Age and Mind,
When larger sized Men did stoop
To enter at a narrow loop;
As practising, in doors so strait,
To strain themselves through Heavens Gate.

And surely when the after Age
Shall hither come in Pilgrimage,
These sacred Places to adore,
By Vere and Fairfax trod before,
Men will dispute how their Extent
Within such dwarfish Confines went:
And some will smile at this, as well
As Romulus his Bee-like Cell.

Humility alone designs
Those short but admirable Lines,
By which, ungirt and unconstrain'd,
Things greater are in less contain'd.
Let others vainly strive t'immure

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Marvell
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Phyllida's Love-Call

Phyllida. CORYDON, arise, my Corydon!
   Titan shineth clear.
Corydon. Who is it that calleth Corydon?
   Who is it that I hear?
Phyl. Phyllida, thy true love, calleth thee,
   Arise then, arise then,
   Arise and keep thy flock with me!
Cor. Phyllida, my true love, is it she?
   I come then, I come then,
   I come and keep my flock with thee.

Phyl. Here are cherries ripe for my Corydon;
   Eat them for my sake.
Cor. Here 's my oaten pipe, my lovely one,
   Sport for thee to make.
Phyl. Here are threads, my true love, fine as silk,
   To knit thee, to knit thee,
   A pair of stockings white as milk.
Cor. Here are reeds, my true love, fine and neat,
   To make thee, to make thee,
   A bonnet to withstand the heat.

Phyl. I will gather flowers, my Corydon,
   To set in thy cap.
Cor. I will gather pears, my lovely one,
   To put in thy lap.
Phyl. I will buy my true love garters gay,
   For Sundays, for Sundays,
   To wear about his legs so tall.
Cor. I will buy my true love yellow say,
   For Sundays, for Sundays,
   To wear about her middle small.

Phyl. When my Corydon sits on a hill
   Making melody--
Cor. When my lovely one goes to her wheel,
   Singing cheerily--
Phyl. Sure methinks my true love doth excel
   For sweetness, for sweetness,
   Our Pan, that old Arcadian knight.
Cor. And methinks my true love bears the bell
   For clearness, for clearness,
   Beyond the nymphs that be so bright.

Phyl. Had my Corydon, my Corydon,
   Been, alack! her swain--
Cor. Had my lovely one, my lovely one,
   Been in Ida plain--
Phyl. Cynthia Endymion had refused,
   Preferring, preferring,

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous
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Knitting Socks

CLICK, click! how the needles go
Through the busy fingers, to and fro--
With no bright colors of berlin wool,
Delicate hands today are full:
Only a yarn of deep, dull blue,
Socks for the feet of the brave and true.
Yet click, click, how the needles go,
'Tis a power within that nerves them so.
In the sunny hours of the bright spring day,
And still in the night time far away.
Maiden, mother, grandame sit
Earnest and thoughtful while they knit.
Many the silent prayers they pray,
Many the tear drops brushed away.
While busy on the needles go,
Widen and narrow, heel and toe.
The grandame thinks with a thrill of pride
How her mother knit and spun beside
For that patriot band in olden days
Who died the Stars and Stripes to raise--
Now she in turn knits for the brave
Who'd die that glorious flag to save.
She is glad, she says, ''the boys' have gone,
'Tis just as their grandfathers would have done.
But she heaves a sigh and the tears will start,
For 'the boys' were the pride of grandame's heart.
The mother's look is calm and high,
God only hears her soul's deep cry--
In Freedom's name, at Freedom's call,
She gave her sons--in them her all.
The maiden's cheek wears a paler shade.
But the light in her eyes is undismayed.
Faith and hope give strength to her sight,
She sees a red dawn after the night.
Oh, soldiers brave, will it brighten the day,
And shorten the march on the weary way,
To know that at home the loving and true
Are knitting and hoping and praying for your
Soft are the voices when speaking your name,
Proud are their glories when hearing your fame.
And the gladdest hour in their lives will be
When they greet you after the victory.

poem by Anonymous Americas
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The Faithful Friend

O, FRIEND! whose heart the grave doth shroud from human joy or woe,
Know'st thou who wanders by thy tomb, with footsteps sad and slow?
Know'st thou whose brow is dark with grief? whose eyes are dim with tears?
Whose restless soul is sinking with its agony of fears?
Whose hope hath fail'd, whose star hath sunk, whose firmest trust deceived,
Since, leaning on thy faithful breast, he loved and believed?

'Tis I!--Return and comfort me, for old remembrance' sake,--
From the long silence of the tomb--the cheerless tomb--awake!
I listen--all is still as death--no welcome step is nigh,--
I call thee, but thou answerest not--the grave hath no reply!
But mournfully the strange bright sun shines on thy funeral stone,
And sadly, in the cypress bough, the wild wind makes her moan.

When we were young, and cheerfully the promised future glow'd,
I little thought to stand alone by this thy last abode;
I little thought, in early days, O generous and kind!
That THOU, the first, shouldst quit the earth, and leave me, wreck'd, behind.

Thine was the pure unjealous love! I know they told us then
That Genius's gifts divided me from dull and common men;
That thou wert slow to science; that the chrat and letter'd page
Had in them no deep spell whereby thy spirit to engage;
But rather thou wouldst sail thy boat, or sound thy bugle horn,
Or track the sportsman's triumph thro' the fields of waving corn,
Than o'er the pond'rous histories of other ages bend,
And it was true! Our minds were cast as pleased the will of Heaven,
And different powers unto me, and unto thee, were given!
No trick of talent deck'd thy speech and glorified thy youth,--
Its simple spell of eloquence lay in its earnest truth;
Nor was the gladsome kindliness which brighten'd on thy brow,
The beauty which in fiction wins Love's fond romantic vow;
But gazing on thine honest face, intelligently bold,
Oft have I doubted of the gifts which men so precious hold,--
Wit, learning, wealth, seem'd overprized, since thou, dear friend, couldst be
So closely knit unto my heart by thy simplicity.

The worldly-wise may sneer at this, and scorn thee, if they will,--
THY judgment was not sharpen'd by the cunning of their skill;
No deep and calculating thoughts lay buried in thy breast,
To chill and vex thy honest heart, and startle it from rest;
No dream of cold philosophy, to make thee doubt and sigh,
And fawn and flatter half thy kind, and pass the others by!
And there thou liest forgotten--thou faithful friend, and true--
Thy resting-place beneath the cold damp shadow of the yew;
And quietly within the tomb's dark precincts wert thou laid,
As a faded leaf unnoticed drops within the forest's shade.

How should the world have tears for thee!--the world hath nothing lost--
No parent's high ambitious hope THY early death hath crost;

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poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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A Sparkling Smile

Just as a share joy,
Just like the love of it;
Unveil the real you when love knocks at your door.
Just the sheer of it,
Just a little smile for love;
Unveil the real you whenever duty calls.
Just like the hearing of voices from a distance,
Just like talking to the malakims;
Knit your heart out for the true love around you.

My sheer convidence,
The pride of it;
For her and for him like,
A sparkling smile to see what love is all about.
Red wine, coffee and tea;
My mind is bigger than my shoes!
For, i have the love for everyone.
Unveil the real you when true love calls,
And light up your face within the walls;
A sparkling smile is all that you need on this love.

Just the sheer of it,
Just the smile of love to keep you going;
Privileged like a monkey with banana when,
True love do knock at your door.
You're worth of it,
Take the sparkling smile of life;
You are all that is needed,
So share the true joy of it;
And, don't turn back on this love.

My mind is bigger than my shoes,
My eyes are sharper than my knife,
My legs are longer than my trousers,
My hands are shorter than my pen,
A sparkling smile on this love is all that you need;
So knit out your heart for this true love around you.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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