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Pink Sari

When took a dip in Ganga
that pink sari
imbibed a lot of Advaitha.

...glued to her skin
and lost identity...

became a mound of her mounds
curve of her curves
and dip of her dips.

I knew how euphoric that pinky felt
When dried up and separated from her
...retained her shape.

poem by Sathya Narayana
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Surfin'

Surfin' is the only life
The only way for me.
Now surf, surf (surfin') with me
Bom bom dit di dit dip (surfin')
Bom bom dit di dit dip (surfin')
Bom bom dit di dit dip (surfin')
Bom bom dit di dit dip (surfin')
Bom bom dit di dit dip (surfin')
Bom bom dit di dit dip (surfin')
Bom bom dit di dit dip (surfin')
Bom bom dit di dit dip (surfin')
Surfin' is the only life
The only way for me.
Now surf, surf (surfin')
Bom bom dit di dit dip
Bom bom dit di dit dip
Bom bom dit di dit dip
Bom bom dit di dit dip
I got up this mornin' turned on my radio
I was checkin' on the surfin' scene
To see if i would go
And when the dj tells me that the surfin' is fine
That's when i know my baby and i will have a good time
Surfin' is the only life
The only way for me.
Now surf, surf (surfin') with me
From the early morning to the middle of the night
Any time the surf is up the time is right
And when the surf is down and things get lazy
We'll do the surfer's stomp that's when the surfers go crazy
Surfin' is the only life
The only way for me.
Now surf, surf (surfin') with me
Now the dawn is breaking and we really gotta go
But we'll be back here very soon that you better know
You know my surfer knots are rising and my board is losing wax
(yeah yeah hey now)
But that won't stop me baby cause you know i'm coming back
Surfin' is the only life
The only way for me.
Now surf, surf (surfin') with me
Bom bom dit di dit dip (surfin')
Bom bom dit di dit dip (surfin')
Bom bom dit di dit dip (surfin')
Bom bom dit di dit dip (surfin')
Bom bom dit di dit dip (surfin')
Bom bom dit di dit dip (surfin')
Bom bom dit di dit dip (surfin')
Bom bom dit di dit dip (surfin')
Bom bom dit di dit dip (surfin')

[...] Read more

song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sari Bair

So, they've struck their streak o' trouble, an' they got it in the neck,
An' there's more than one ole pal o' mine 'as 'anded in 'is check;
But Ginger still takes nourishment; 'e's well, but breathin' 'ard.
An' so 'e sends the strength uv it scrawled on a chunk uv card.

'On the day we 'it the transport there wus cheerin' on the pier,
An' the girls wus wavin' hankies as they dropped a partin' tear,
An' we felt like little 'eroes as we watched the crowd recede,
Fer we sailed to prove Australia, an' our boastin' uv the breed.

'There wus Trent, ex~toff, uv England; there wus Green, ex-pug, uv 'Loo;
There wus me, an' Craig uv Queensland, wiv 'is 'ulkin' six-foot-two:
An' little Smith uv Collin'wood, 'oo 'owled a rag-time air.
On the day we left the Leeuwin, bound nor'-west for Gawd-knows-where.

'On the day we come to Cairo wiv its niggers an' its din,
To fill our eyes wiv desert sand, our souls wiv Eastern sin,
There wus cursin' an' complainin'; we wus 'ungerin' fer fight -
Little imertation soljers full uv vanity an' skite.

'Then they worked us - Gawd! they worked us, till we knoo wot drillin' meant;
Till men begun to feel like men, an' wasters to repent,
Till we grew to 'ate all Egyp', an' its desert, an' its stinks:
On the days we drilled at Mena in the shadder uv the Sphinx.

'Then Green uv Sydney swore an oath they meant to 'old us tight,
A crowd uv flarnin' ornaments wivout a chance to fight;
But little Smith uv Collin'wood, he whistled 'im a toon,
An' sez, 'Aw, take a pull. lad, there'll be whips o' stoushin' soom.'

'Then the waitin', weary waitin', while we itched to meet the foe!
But we'd done wiv fancy skitin' an' the comic op'ra show.
We wus soljers - finished soljers, an' we felt it in our veins
On the day we trod the desert on ole Egyp's sandy plains.

'An' Trent 'e said it wus a bore, an' all uv us wus blue,
An' Craig, the giant, never joked the way 'e used to do.
But little Smith uv Collin'wood 'e 'ummed a little song,
An' said, 'You leave it to the 'eads. O now we sha'n't be long!'

'Then Sari Bair, O Sari Bair, 'twus you wot seen it done,
The day the transports rode yer bay beneath a smilin' sun.
We boasted much, an' toasted much; but where yer tide line creeps,
'Twus you, me dainty Sari Bair, that seen us play fer keeps.

'We wus full uv savage skitin' while they kep' us on the shelf -
(Now I tell yeh, square an' 'onest, I wus doubtin' us meself):
But we proved it, good an' plenty, that our lads can do an' dare,
On the day we walloped Abdul o'er the sands o' Sari Bair.

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Pink Pink

pink pink
Confirmed that it was armed
pink pink
Was right to be alarmed
pink pink
Ensured that nought was harmed
pnk pink
Steady hand and mind
pink pink
Micro-chip designed
pink pink
The password was declined
pink pink
Another course to take
pink pink
Caution not to shake
pink pink
Captivity a mistake
pink pink
Beads upon the brow
pink pink
Experience the how
pink pink
No chance to turn back now
pink pink
Be certain not to slip
pink pink
One last wire to snip
pink pink
Two hearts that skip a beat
penk penk
The sound that gives a lift
penk penk
Time to collect the gift
penk penk
The robbery will be swift

poem by Chris Dawson
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Don't Dip Yo Pity Here To Sit

Don't dip yo pity here to sit.
No permitted pity here can visit.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit.
No permitted pity here can visit.

When you tire of your weeping...
You can call on me.
But don't dip yo pity in a pit!
To leave it here to sit.

When you tire of your weeping...
You can call on me.
But don't dip yo pity in a pit!
To leave it here to sit.

I'll call 9-1-1...
To rescue me.

Don't dip yo pity.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit!

I'll call 9-1-1...
To rescue me.

Don't dip yo pity.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit!

No tears on my pillow.
Unless they're mine to cry.

Everyday you bring me pity.
As if your pity thrives.

Don't dip yo pity.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit!
No yo...
Don't dip yo pity.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit!
No yo!

I'll call 9-1-1...
To rescue me.

Don't dip yo pity.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit!
No yo.

I'll call 9-1-1...
To rescue me.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pink

A blush of pink:
She'd caught a roving eye -
He gave a wink.
Her smile had played a shy
And quaint florescence;
The siren of pubescence
Drew him in.

She bade him touch her hair,
Suggesting that he dare
To kiss her pulsing lips!
E'er the fool a man, he did:
The drips of blood began to cheer -
And so, another rid:

Tips of fangs are sharp, you know -
Dancing ivory feeds her soul -
See her claim a howl upon a chilling wind!

Slain, he lay across a crimson floor:
She grinned in her repletion.

A blush of pink;
Beneath a glowering sky
Her savoured drink
Was done.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

[...] Read more

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Pink Pussycat

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pink pussycat
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pink pussycat
Where are you
Pink pussycat
Im looking for you
Pink pussycat
Meow meow meow
Pink pussycat
Where ya hiding puss
Pink pussycat
Im coming after you
Im gonna mix yer meow-meows
Pink pussycat
Got you in the car
Pink pussycat
Got you in the backseat
Pink pussycat
I wanna touch yer fur
Pink pussycat
Im gonna see you dance
Pink pussycat
Im gonna stand yer fur on end
Pink pussycat
Sleep inside you
Pink pussycat
Lick you clean
Pink pussycat
Gonna mess you up
Pink pussycat
Im a dog
Pink pussycat
Bow wow wow
Pink pussycat
Gonna chase you
Pink pussycat
Gonna catch you
Pink pussycat
Gonna bite you
Pink pussycat
Tear yer little ears off
Pink pussycat
Meow meow meow
Pink pussycat
Im so stroft

song performed by Devo
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The Columbiad: Book I

The Argument

Natives of America appear in vision. Their manners and characters. Columbus demands the cause of the dissimilarity of men in different countries, Hesper replies, That the human body is composed of a due proportion of the elements suited to the place of its first formation; that these elements, differently proportioned, produce all the changes of health, sickness, growth and decay; and may likewise produce any other changes which occasion the diversity of men; that these elemental proportions are varied, not more by climate than temperature and other local circumstances; that the mind is likewise in a state of change, and will take its physical character from the body and from external objects: examples. Inquiry concerning the first peopling of America. View of Mexico. Its destruction by Cortez. View of Cusco and Quito, cities of Peru. Tradition of Capac and Oella, founders of the Peruvian empire. Columbus inquires into their real history. Hesper gives an account of their origin, and relates the stratagems they used in establishing that empire.

I sing the Mariner who first unfurl'd
An eastern banner o'er the western world,
And taught mankind where future empires lay
In these fair confines of descending day;
Who sway'd a moment, with vicarious power,
Iberia's sceptre on the new found shore,
Then saw the paths his virtuous steps had trod
Pursued by avarice and defiled with blood,
The tribes he foster'd with paternal toil
Snatch'd from his hand, and slaughter'd for their spoil.

Slaves, kings, adventurers, envious of his name,
Enjoy'd his labours and purloin'd his fame,
And gave the Viceroy, from his high seat hurl'd.
Chains for a crown, a prison for a world
Long overwhelm'd in woes, and sickening there,
He met the slow still march of black despair,
Sought the last refuge from his hopeless doom,
And wish'd from thankless men a peaceful tomb:
Till vision'd ages, opening on his eyes,
Cheer'd his sad soul, and bade new nations rise;
He saw the Atlantic heaven with light o'ercast,
And Freedom crown his glorious work at last.

Almighty Freedom! give my venturous song
The force, the charm that to thy voice belong;
Tis thine to shape my course, to light my way,
To nerve my country with the patriot lay,
To teach all men where all their interest lies,
How rulers may be just and nations wise:
Strong in thy strength I bend no suppliant knee,
Invoke no miracle, no Muse but thee.

Night held on old Castile her silent reign,
Her half orb'd moon declining to the main;
O'er Valladolid's regal turrets hazed
The drizzly fogs from dull Pisuerga raised;
Whose hovering sheets, along the welkin driven,
Thinn'd the pale stars, and shut the eye from heaven.
Cold-hearted Ferdinand his pillow prest,
Nor dream'd of those his mandates robb'd of rest,
Of him who gemm'd his crown, who stretch'd his reign
To realms that weigh'd the tenfold poise of Spain;
Who now beneath his tower indungeon'd lies,
Sweats the chill sod and breathes inclement skies.

[...] Read more

poem by Joel Barlow
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From the Banks of Ganga: I

Ganga,
What glaciers have
Melted in silence?

Ganga,
How many mighty glaciers
Now flow with a roar?

Ganga,
From the divine tresses
Through the sage’s ears
Carefully led for redemption

Trapped
Restive
ViolentFrom the mighty skies
Down the abode of gods
Humbled!

Ganga,
Amidst hills
Connecting the sky
And the earth

Ganga,
Scintillating
Sonorous
Desire too flowed
The desire to gather
Ganga to my bosom!

Ganga,
At the foot of the hills
I stand in supplication
At the divine feet

poem by Indira Babbellapati
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In This Skin

They see me in a magazine
I'm the one they want to be
Still don't feel I'm good enough
Still don't feel I'm thin enough
I stand up and I'm pushed back down
And every opinion now
It makes me feel inhuman
Giving in and giving up
To be worthy
To feel beautiful in this skin
Be beautiful in this skin[love the skin I'm in]
Love me for me
Have confidence in this skin
Be confident in this skin[in the skin I'm in]
So tell me what is wrong with me
I'm the girl with everything
So why am I not strong enough
I want to be strong enough
To tell you how I really feel
I know my talent is real
So don't tell me, don't tell me
I have to be 102
I don't have nothing to prove
So don't tell me, don't tell me
Cause I am worthy...
To feel beautiful in this skin
Be beautiful in this skin[love the skin I'm in]
Love me for me
Have confidence in this skin
Be confident in this skin[in the skin I'm in]
Be real, be real
See the beauty inside this skin
I don't have to hide this skin[love the skin I'm in]
I feel, I feel
An awakening in this skin
Stop forsaking me in this skin
I am, I am,
[Beatiful in this skin
'beatiful' lies within
Beatiful in this skin
I am]
To be worthy
Be beautiful
Love me for me
'Cuz I am beautiful
To feel beautiful in this skin
Be beautiful in this skin[love the skin I'm in]
Love me for me
Have confidence in this skin
Be confident in this skin[in the skin I'm in]

[...] Read more

song performed by Jessica Simpson
Added by Lucian Velea
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Im Alright

Im alright
Nobody worry bout me
Why you got to gimme a fight?
Cant you just let it be?
Im alright
Dont nobody worry bout me
You got to gimme a fight
Why dont you just let me be
Do what you like,
Doing it natrally
But if its too easy
Theyre gonna disagree
Its your life
And isnt it a mystery
If its nobodys busness
Its everybodys game
Gotta catch you later
No, no, cannonball it right away
Some cinderella kid
Get it up and get you a job
(dip dip dip dip dip dip dip dip)
Im alright
Nobody worry bout me
Why you got to gimme a fight?
Cant you just let it be?
Im alright
Dont nobody worry bout me
You got to gimme a fight
Why dont you just let me be
Who do you want?
Who you be today?
And who is it really
Makin up your mind?
You wanna listen to the man?
Pay attention to the magistrate
And while I got you in the mood
Listen to your
Own heart beatin
Own heart beatin
Own heart beatin
Own heart beatin
Dont it get you movin
Mmmmm-man
It make me feel good
(wow, cinderella kid)
Then give it up and give it the job
(dip dip dip dip dip dip dip dip)
(boom, boom, boom, boom)
Im alright
Nobody worry bout me

[...] Read more

song performed by Kenny Loggins
Added by Lucian Velea
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AdiSankara

Luminous on the snowy Himalaya
The effulgence of Kaladi Kerala
The beacon light up there spirited
From south of Bharath enlightened

Bestowed the blest Sivaguru and Aryamba
Lord siva born to them, great Sankara
Not an ordinary child but divine
Did he younger resort to be a sanyasin

Would a mother consent? Aryamba didn't
Yet she soon couldn't but consent
Destiny, a crocodile to Sankara threw a life-threat
Relieved him demanding he be an ascetic asset

Thence Aryamba let Sankara renounce, go yonder
Was she then mollified to be attened to later
Set out Sankara for an accomplished guru atlast
For he in search of an ascetic tryst

Guru of gurus Govindapada
Sought after on the banks of river Narmada
Not a boy of toy trinkets, Sankara
Became to his credits early a Paramahamsa

Wonder was he then just eight years
An adept became seer of seers
Bespoken over era and era
His spirituality, the Advaitha

Travelled far and wide Sankara
Expounded Upanishads Sutras and Gita
Composed commentaries the Bhashyas
To this day spoken about in praises

An occasion Sankara for his old mother
Routed elseway Purna river
Favourably for her daily ablution
En route near by his house on diversion

Sankara the giver of prosperity
Did once reward a lady of abject poverty
With golden gooseberries out of divine ability
On receiving the only fruit had that pious laity

One anecdote scaled up his power
Gushing forth once into floods Narmada river
Sankara encapsulated it in his vessel prior
Released it in the banks later

[...] Read more

poem by Indira Renganathan
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The Idols

An Ode
Luce intellettual, piena d' amore

Prelude
Lo, the spirit of a pulsing star within a stone
Born of earth, sprung from night!
Prisoned with the profound fires of the light
That lives like all the tongues of eloquence
Locked in a speech unknown!
The crystal, cold and hard as innocence,
Immures the flame; and yet as if it knew
Raptures or pangs it could not but betray,
As if the light could feel changes of blood and breath
And all--but--human quiverings of the sense,
Throbs of a sudden rose, a frosty blue,
Shoot thrilling in its ray,
Like the far longings of the intellect
Restless in clouding clay.

Who has confined the Light? Who has held it a slave,
Sold and bought, bought and sold?
Who has made of it a mystery to be doled,
Or trophy, to awe with legendary fire,
Where regal banners wave?
And still into the dark it sends Desire.
In the heart's darkness it sows cruelties.
The bright jewel becomes a beacon to the vile,
A lodestar to corruption, envy's own:
Soiled with blood, fought for, clutched at; this world's prize,
Captive Authority. Oh, the star is stone
To all that outward sight,
Yet still, like truth that none has ever used,
Lives lost in its own light.

Troubled I fly. O let me wander again at will
(Far from cries, far from these
Hard blindnesses and frozen certainties!)
Where life proceeds in vastness unaware
And stirs profound and still:
Where leafing thoughts at shy touch of the air
Tremble, and gleams come seeking to be mine,
Or dart, like suddenly remembered youth,
Like the ache of love, a light, lost, found, and lost again.
Surely in the dusk some messenger was there!
But, haunted in the heart, I thirst, I pine.--
Oh, how can truth be truth
Except I taste it close and sweet and sharp
As an apple to the tooth?

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Laurence Binyon
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Give Your Heart To The Hawks

1 he apples hung until a wind at the equinox,

That heaped the beach with black weed, filled the dry grass

Under the old trees with rosy fruit.

In the morning Fayne Fraser gathered the sound ones into a

basket,

The bruised ones into a pan. One place they lay so thickly
She knelt to reach them.

Her husband's brother passing
Along the broken fence of the stubble-field,
His quick brown eyes took in one moving glance
A little gopher-snake at his feet flowing through the stubble
To gain the fence, and Fayne crouched after apples
With her mop of red hair like a glowing coal
Against the shadow in the garden. The small shapely reptile
Flowed into a thicket of dead thistle-stalks
Around a fence-post, but its tail was not hidden.
The young man drew it all out, and as the coil
Whipped over his wrist, smiled at it; he stepped carefully
Across the sag of the wire. When Fayne looked up
His hand was hidden; she looked over her shoulder
And twitched her sunburnt lips from small white teeth
To answer the spark of malice in his eyes, but turned
To the apples, intent again. Michael looked down
At her white neck, rarely touched by the sun,
But now the cinnabar-colored hair fell off from it;
And her shoulders in the light-blue shirt, and long legs like a boy's
Bare-ankled in blue-jean trousers, the country wear;
He stooped quietly and slipped the small cool snake
Up the blue-denim leg. Fayne screamed and writhed,
Clutching her thigh. 'Michael, you beast.' She stood up
And stroked her leg, with little sharp cries, the slender invader
Fell down her ankle.

Fayne snatched for it and missed;

Michael stood by rejoicing, his rather small

Finely cut features in a dance of delight;

Fayne with one sweep flung at his face

All the bruised and half-spoiled apples in the pan,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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The Loves of the Angels

'Twas when the world was in its prime,
When the fresh stars had just begun
Their race of glory and young Time
Told his first birth-days by the sun;
When in the light of Nature's dawn
Rejoicing, men and angels met
On the high hill and sunny lawn,-
Ere sorrow came or Sin had drawn
'Twixt man and heaven her curtain yet!
When earth lay nearer to the skies
Than in these days of crime and woe,
And mortals saw without surprise
In the mid-air angelic eyes
Gazing upon this world below.

Alas! that Passion should profane
Even then the morning of the earth!
That, sadder still, the fatal stain
Should fall on hearts of heavenly birth-
And that from Woman's love should fall
So dark a stain, most sad of all!

One evening, in that primal hour,
On a hill's side where hung the ray
Of sunset brightening rill and bower,
Three noble youths conversing lay;
And, as they lookt from time to time
To the far sky where Daylight furled
His radiant wing, their brows sublime
Bespoke them of that distant world-
Spirits who once in brotherhood
Of faith and bliss near ALLA stood,
And o'er whose cheeks full oft had blown
The wind that breathes from ALLA'S throne,
Creatures of light such as still play,
Like motes in sunshine, round the Lord,
And thro' their infinite array
Transmit each moment, night and day,
The echo of His luminous word!

Of Heaven they spoke and, still more oft,
Of the bright eyes that charmed them thence;
Till yielding gradual to the soft
And balmy evening's influence-
The silent breathing of the flowers-
The melting light that beamed above,
As on their first, fond, erring hours,-
Each told the story of his love,
The history of that hour unblest,
When like a bird from its high nest

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Moore
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Song Of The Broad-Axe

WEAPON, shapely, naked, wan!
Head from the mother's bowels drawn!
Wooded flesh and metal bone! limb only one, and lip only one!
Gray-blue leaf by red-heat grown! helve produced from a little seed
sown!
Resting the grass amid and upon,
To be lean'd, and to lean on.

Strong shapes, and attributes of strong shapes--masculine trades,
sights and sounds;
Long varied train of an emblem, dabs of music;
Fingers of the organist skipping staccato over the keys of the great
organ.

Welcome are all earth's lands, each for its kind; 10
Welcome are lands of pine and oak;
Welcome are lands of the lemon and fig;
Welcome are lands of gold;
Welcome are lands of wheat and maize--welcome those of the grape;
Welcome are lands of sugar and rice;
Welcome the cotton-lands--welcome those of the white potato and sweet
potato;
Welcome are mountains, flats, sands, forests, prairies;
Welcome the rich borders of rivers, table-lands, openings;
Welcome the measureless grazing-lands--welcome the teeming soil of
orchards, flax, honey, hemp;
Welcome just as much the other more hard-faced lands; 20
Lands rich as lands of gold, or wheat and fruit lands;
Lands of mines, lands of the manly and rugged ores;
Lands of coal, copper, lead, tin, zinc;
LANDS OF IRON! lands of the make of the axe!

The log at the wood-pile, the axe supported by it;
The sylvan hut, the vine over the doorway, the space clear'd for a
garden,
The irregular tapping of rain down on the leaves, after the storm is
lull'd,
The wailing and moaning at intervals, the thought of the sea,
The thought of ships struck in the storm, and put on their beam ends,
and the cutting away of masts;
The sentiment of the huge timbers of old-fashion'd houses and
barns; 30
The remember'd print or narrative, the voyage at a venture of men,
families, goods,
The disembarkation, the founding of a new city,
The voyage of those who sought a New England and found it--the outset
anywhere,
The settlements of the Arkansas, Colorado, Ottawa, Willamette,

[...] Read more

poem by Walt Whitman
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I Have A Woman Inside My Soul

I have a woman inside my soul,
Her eyes sombre and sad.
She waves her hand to try to reach me,
But I cant hear what she says.
I wish I knew what she says,
I wish I knew what she wants,
I wish I knew what she says to me,
I wish I knew what she means to me.
I see an asphalt road inside my soul,
Its pale even in a warm summers day.
It stretches into the mist and calls me,
But I dont know what it takes.
I wish I knew what it takes, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it gives, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it says to me, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it means to me. (I wish I knew)
I see a tombstone inside my soul,
Its old and mossy, covered in dead leaves.
It stands with an engraving on it surface,
But I dont know what it reads.
I wish I knew what it reads, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it says, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it says to me, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it means to me. (I wish I knew)
(yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, hey)
I feel snow covering inside my soul,
Its hard and shining in shades of grey.
No footsteps ever made their marks,
And I dont know when it melts.
I wish I knew when it melts, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew when it happens, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew if it happens at all, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it means to me. (I wish I knew)
I hear a stream running inside my soul,
Its cold and clear and carries a tune.
But I dont know what it sings and tells,
I dont know where it goes.
I wish I knew what it sings,
I wish I knew where it goes,
I wish I knew what it sings, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew where it goes, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it sings. (I wish I knew)
(I wish I knew)
(I wish I knew) (yeah!)
(I wish I knew)
(I wish I knew)

song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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Avon's Harvest

Fear, like a living fire that only death
Might one day cool, had now in Avon’s eyes
Been witness for so long of an invasion
That made of a gay friend whom we had known
Almost a memory, wore no other name
As yet for us than fear. Another man
Than Avon might have given to us at least
A futile opportunity for words
We might regret. But Avon, since it happened,
Fed with his unrevealing reticence
The fire of death we saw that horribly
Consumed him while he crumbled and said nothing.

So many a time had I been on the edge,
And off again, of a foremeasured fall
Into the darkness and discomfiture
Of his oblique rebuff, that finally
My silence honored his, holding itself
Away from a gratuitous intrusion
That likely would have widened a new distance
Already wide enough, if not so new.
But there are seeming parallels in space
That may converge in time; and so it was
I walked with Avon, fought and pondered with him,
While he made out a case for So-and-so,
Or slaughtered What’s-his-name in his old way,
With a new difference. Nothing in Avon lately
Was, or was ever again to be for us,
Like him that we remembered; and all the while
We saw that fire at work within his eyes
And had no glimpse of what was burning there.

So for a year it went; and so it went
For half another year—when, all at once,
At someone’s tinkling afternoon at home
I saw that in the eyes of Avon’s wife
The fire that I had met the day before
In his had found another living fuel.
To look at her and then to think of him,
And thereupon to contemplate the fall
Of a dim curtain over the dark end
Of a dark play, required of me no more
Clairvoyance than a man who cannot swim
Will exercise in seeing that his friend
Off shore will drown except he save himself.
To her I could say nothing, and to him
No more than tallied with a long belief
That I should only have it back again
For my chagrin to ruminate upon,
Ingloriously, for the still time it starved;

[...] Read more

poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Corsair

'O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our soul's as free
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,
Survey our empire, and behold our home!
These are our realms, no limits to their sway-
Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.
Ours the wild life in tumult still to range
From toil to rest, and joy in every change.
Oh, who can tell? not thou, luxurious slave!
Whose soul would sicken o'er the heaving wave;
Not thou, vain lord of wantonness and ease!
whom slumber soothes not - pleasure cannot please -
Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried,
And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide,
The exulting sense - the pulse's maddening play,
That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way?
That for itself can woo the approaching fight,
And turn what some deem danger to delight;
That seeks what cravens shun with more than zeal,
And where the feebler faint can only feel -
Feel - to the rising bosom's inmost core,
Its hope awaken and Its spirit soar?
No dread of death if with us die our foes -
Save that it seems even duller than repose:
Come when it will - we snatch the life of life -
When lost - what recks it but disease or strife?
Let him who crawls enamour'd of decay,
Cling to his couch, and sicken years away:
Heave his thick breath, and shake his palsied head;
Ours - the fresh turf; and not the feverish bed.
While gasp by gasp he falters forth his soul,
Ours with one pang - one bound - escapes control.
His corse may boast its urn and narrow cave,
And they who loath'd his life may gild his grave:
Ours are the tears, though few, sincerely shed,
When Ocean shrouds and sepulchres our dead.
For us, even banquets fond regret supply
In the red cup that crowns our memory;
And the brief epitaph in danger's day,
When those who win at length divide the prey,
And cry, Remembrance saddening o'er each brow,
How had the brave who fell exulted now!'

II.
Such were the notes that from the Pirate's isle
Around the kindling watch-fire rang the while:
Such were the sounds that thrill'd the rocks along,
And unto ears as rugged seem'd a song!
In scatter'd groups upon the golden sand,
They game-carouse-converse-or whet the brand:

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poem by Byron
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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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Pink is my colour

Pink pants and rosy plants
Pink blouses, never failing to arouse spouses

Pink hot feverish lips
Passionate pants of pink
Love letters dipped in pink ink

You see! You see!

Pink is my colour
Pink is the sweet side of wild
Quite mild
Like a little lost baby child
Of all the colours compiled
Pink is romantic and disarming
All pink roses are ever so charming

Pink is my colour
The fruit juices I drink
Are always colour pink
With favourable odours
Igniting my fire making me desire more and more
Think! Think! Pink always links
With erotic pleasant stinks
Those flirty winks
Combining with pink
Creating an effect of kink, kink, kinky!

Pink is my colour
Refined or raw
Pink is my colour
And the colour of my door
Pink is my colour
And the only colour I adore

Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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