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Forging Desired Personality

your an individualist
I am lone wolf incarnate
we are what we are
we both like solitude

the analytical individualist
has too much introspection
lessons in a solo journey
individualist must complete

I also passed through
landscape introspection
on journey to self discovery
forging desired personality

poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Lone White Wolf: The Hunt

As the first day of the new moon creeps into the trees, no wolf among the pack gathers to see the light overcome the darkness to bring in the new day except the lone white wolf. This peculiar wolf is almost solid white except for the black along the length of his nose. It watches over the pack as they peacefully sleep, unaware of his eyes that could protect everything that was soon to come.

Today was the first day of the long hunt for the white wolf. He must bring down an animal that could feed the whole pack for several days, so he could become an official member of the pack, but more importantly, he must prove himself to be one with the pack instead of running alone.

The leader of the wolf pack slowly raises his head like a turtle to look around to see who’s awake. He sees all the wolves are still asleep in a tight circle except the outcast. The leader doesn’t understand why this wolf sleeps alone nor does he understand why the wolf was born white instead of gray. The white wolf stirs from his wakeful sleep. The eyes of the self-proclaimed leader stay on him before moving off to look into the distance searching for all the answers to his questions among the countless trees.

The leader of the wolf pack slowly gets up and walks to the lone wolf and nudges him to sound the morning howl. It was customary for the leader of the wolf pack to do this, but for reasons unknown to any wolf besides the leader, the wolf chose the outcast to sound the howl. The white wolf understands and gives a howl to stir the remaining wolves out of their deep slumber.

Once all the wolves are fully awake and able to comprehend what today is and what it means for the outcast, they realize it is the first day of the new moon. It is the first day of the long hunt. All of the wolves first look to the leader, then to the outcast, then back to the leader wondering who is going to give the special howl to begin the long hunt. No wolf willingly howled the beginning of the long hunt because if the howl was bad, the hunt would go badly, but if the howl was good, the hunt would go smoothly and the hunt would be short. The answer is soon apparent when the eyes of the leader look over the pack to see whose eyes would meet his. None but one pair kept his gaze.

The leader gave a sign, and the wolf began to prepare to give the special howl that would determine the outcome of the hunt. A wolf could not open its muzzle and give an ordinary howl since the hunt would also go badly. To give the special howl the wolf must pull back its hind legs and brace itself to make sure all legs are securely anchored to the ground so that the wolf, while giving the special howl would not slide backwards during the middle of it.

The lone wolf was ready mentally and physically to give the special howl. Once his feet were securely on the ground, the wolf began the howl. The lone white wolf put everything in his howl: the pain of being an outcast his entire life, the anger at his individuality, everything was put into that howl. Wolves stepped back with their fur standing on end; birds flew away squawking bloody murder. The others started yipping and snapping at nothing in particular remembering everything they’d ever felt. After the lone wolf was done, he realized the effect his special howl had on the wolves and he noticed the disarray and confusion that he had caused.

The leader is satisfied and gets the pack into order; it was time to begin the hunt. The wolves began running, their muscles rippling beneath their skin. Nothing could stop them. Their destination was a mile and a half down the road where the large game was located. Running freely among the wolf pack, the lone wolf didn’t feel like an outcast, but whenever he began to get too close, a shallow snip on the shoulder would shove him away to a safer distance.

The game was just ahead; it was time for the lone wolf to prove himself to the pack. The lone wolf went ahead of the pack and picked one of the biggest caribou he could find and slowly approached while the pack followed. The wolves lurched like a bullet from a gun onto the caribou with the white wolf clinging to the exposed flesh of the neck bringing it to the ground but not before it got one last kick in. The kill was successful; the caribou was dead. It was then that the white wolf noticed the bloody mess of the leader of the pack. The last kick of the now dead caribou landed on the skull of the leader, and he was dead instantly. The sight was a grizzly one with his skull caved in and blood gushing out of the wound.

The self-proclaimed leader was dead with no next-in-line to follow. Every wolf looked to the now dead leader, then to the outcast, then back to the dead leader, and then back to the outcast. The white wolf met the eyes of each wolf and got an unspoken request from each one. It was unanimous; the previous outcast of the pack became the leader. For the first time in history, a white wolf was chosen to lead and will lead the wolves to a prosperity the wolves have never known.

2009 October

poem by Matthew Bresette
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Going Solo

She left a message after the tone,
I hear it over and over on the answer phone.
No one can find her, address unknown.
She just decided to go out and make it alone.
Solo, solo,
My little child is going solo.
Solo, solo,
My little child is going solo.
I feel like crying, Im in a rage.
I cant understand why she just ran away.
What made it happen, guess well never know.
She just decided to go out and make it solo.
Solo, solo, solo, solo, solo.
We work like dogs all of our lives,
Like millions of other husbands and wives.
Sent her through college, didnt care what we spent.
Think of how we feel,
She didnt say, she didnt ask, she just went.
Solo, solo,
My little child, youre going solo.
Its like a pattern, its like a crime,
We see it happen time after time.
You raise your children, you watch them grow,
Then one day its good-bye, theyve decided theyre going solo.
Solo, solo, solo, solo, solo.
The toys are forgotten, now it appears,
Youve let them down after all of these years.
Sacrificed all, now theres nothing to show,
Ungrateful youth, decided youre going solo.
Solo, solo,
My little child, youre going solo.
Solo, solo,
Ungrateful youth, youre going solo.
The obligations, all of the ties,
Have got to be broken so you can survive.
Just because they gave you life, they cant stop if you grow,
Now they cant hold you back cause youre going solo

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Sword

THE FORGING OF THE SWORD.

At the forging of the Sword--
The mountain roots were stirr'd,
Like the heart-beats of a bird;
Like flax the tall trees wav'd,
So fiercely struck the Forgers of the Sword.

At the forging of the Sword--
So loud the hammers fell,
The thrice seal'd gates of Hell,
Burst wide their glowing jaws;
Deep roaring, at the forging of the Sword.

At the forging of the Sword--
Kind mother Earth was rent,
Like an Arab's dusky tent,
And monster-like she fed--
On her children; at the forging of the Sword.

At the forging of the Sword--
So loud the blows they gave,
Up sprang the panting wave;
And blind and furious slew,
Shrill-shouting to the Forgers of the Sword.

At the forging of the Sword--
The startled air swift whirl'd
The red flames round the world,
From the Anvil where was smitten,
The steel, the Forgers wrought into the Sword.

At the forging of the Sword--
The Maid and Matron fled,
And hid them with the dead;
Fierce prophets sang their doom,
More deadly, than the wounding of the Sword.

At the forging of the Sword--
Swift leap'd the quiet hearts,
In the meadows and the marts;
The tides of men were drawn,
By the gleaming sickle-planet of the Sword!

* * * * *

Thus wert thou forged, O lissome sword;
On such dusk anvil wert thou wrought;
In such red flames thy metal fused!
From such deep hells that metal brought;

[...] Read more

poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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Maymie's Story Of Red Riding Hood

W'y, one time wuz a little-weenty dirl,
An' she wuz named Red Riding Hood, 'cause her--
Her _Ma_ she maked a little red cloak fer her
'At turnt up over her head--An' it 'uz all
Ist one piece o' red cardinal 'at 's like
The drate-long stockin's the store-keepers has.--
O! it 'uz purtiest cloak in all the world
An' _all_ this town er anywheres they is!
An' so, one day, her Ma she put it on
Red Riding Hood, she did--one day, she did--
An' it 'uz _Sund'y_--'cause the little cloak
It 'uz too nice to wear ist _ever'_ day
An' _all_ the time!--An' so her Ma, she put
It on Red Riding Hood--an' telled her not
To dit no dirt on it ner dit it mussed
Ner nothin'! An'--an'--nen her Ma she dot
Her little basket out, 'at Old Kriss bringed
Her wunst--one time, he did. And nen she fill'
It full o' whole lots an' 'bundance o' good things t' eat
(Allus my Dran'ma _she_ says ''bundance,' too.)
An' so her Ma fill' little Red Riding Hood's
Nice basket all ist full o' dood things t' eat,
An' tell her take 'em to her old Dran'ma--
An' not to _spill_ 'em, neever--'cause ef she
'Ud stump her toe an' spill 'em, her Dran'ma
She'll haf to _punish_ her!

An' nen--An' so
Little Red Riding Hood she p'omised she
'Ud be all careful nen an' cross' her heart
'At she wont run an' spill 'em all fer six--
Five--ten--two-hundred-bushel-dollars-go ld!
An' nen she kiss her Ma doo'-bye an' went
A-skippin' off--away fur off frough the
Big woods, where her Dran'ma she live at.--No!--
She didn't do _a-skippin'_, like I said:--
She ist went _walkin'_--careful-like an' slow--
Ist like a little lady--walkin' 'long
As all polite an' nice--an' slow--an' straight--
An' turn her toes--ist like she's marchin' in
The Sund'y-School k-session!

An'--an'--so
She 'uz a-doin' along--an' doin' along--
On frough the drate big woods--'cause her Dran'ma
She live 'way, 'way fur off frough the big woods
From _her_ Ma's house. So when Red Riding Hood
She dit to do there, allus have most fun--
When she do frough the drate big woods, you know.--
'Cause she ain't feared a bit o' anything!

[...] Read more

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Tannhauser

The Landgrave Hermann held a gathering
Of minstrels, minnesingers, troubadours,
At Wartburg in his palace, and the knight,
Sir Tannhauser of France, the greatest bard,
Inspired with heavenly visions, and endowed
With apprehension and rare utterance
Of noble music, fared in thoughtful wise
Across the Horsel meadows. Full of light,
And large repose, the peaceful valley lay,
In the late splendor of the afternoon,
And level sunbeams lit the serious face
Of the young knight, who journeyed to the west,
Towards the precipitous and rugged cliffs,
Scarred, grim, and torn with savage rifts and chasms,
That in the distance loomed as soft and fair
And purple as their shadows on the grass.
The tinkling chimes ran out athwart the air,
Proclaiming sunset, ushering evening in,
Although the sky yet glowed with yellow light.
The ploughboy, ere he led his cattle home,
In the near meadow, reverently knelt,
And doffed his cap, and duly crossed his breast,
Whispering his 'Ave Mary,' as he heard
The pealing vesper-bell. But still the knight,
Unmindful of the sacred hour announced,
Disdainful or unconscious, held his course.
'Would that I also, like yon stupid wight,
Could kneel and hail the Virgin and believe!'
He murmured bitterly beneath his breath.
'Were I a pagan, riding to contend
For the Olympic wreath, O with what zeal,
What fire of inspiration, would I sing
The praises of the gods! How may my lyre
Glorify these whose very life I doubt?
The world is governed by one cruel God,
Who brings a sword, not peace. A pallid Christ,
Unnatural, perfect, and a virgin cold,
They give us for a heaven of living gods,
Beautiful, loving, whose mere names were song;
A creed of suffering and despair, walled in
On every side by brazen boundaries,
That limit the soul's vision and her hope
To a red hell or and unpeopled heaven.
Yea, I am lost already,-even now
Am doomed to flaming torture for my thoughts.
O gods! O gods! where shall my soul find peace?'
He raised his wan face to the faded skies,
Now shadowing into twilight; no response
Came from their sunless heights; no miracle,
As in the ancient days of answering gods.

[...] Read more

poem by Emma Lazarus
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Lone Wolf

I am a lone wolf
I always was and will be
I feel fine, I am resigned to this
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
Got my cares
Wrapped up all nice and neat
In my suitcase
Ill take it down the street
To a place with plenty of space for me
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
It blows my mind
That people wanna try to get inside my tired head
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
Nobody needs to get too close to me
Youll only see this truth
I am a lone wolf

song performed by Eels
Added by Lucian Velea
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Go Solo

Music and lyrics: hall
You need to make it on your own
You wanna shake it go it alone
Whatever happened?
I did alright by you
I can feel the passion girl
Its still as strong
Though the places have turned around
Oh I can be the one to wait
You take the easy way out
Im no one to doubt
(if that aint enough)
Aint enough for you
Go solo
(you can take the lead)
Play a brand new part
Go solo, solo
You say theres trouble in paradise
Im only joking but you better be right
Oh, whatever happens, there aint no turnin round
I can understand you need to find yourself
Make a way without any help
Oh I can be the one who waits
To take the only way out
Im no one to doubt
(if that aint enough)
Aint enough for you
Go solo
(you can take the lead)
Play a brand new part
Go solo, solo
I dont mind your flying blind
Just shake it up and take it to the break this time
Shake it up and take it to the break this time
This time, oh
Shake it up and take it, shake it up and take it girl
(if that aint enough)
Aint enough for you
Go solo, go solo
(you can take the lead)
Play a brand new part
Go solo
I could do good somehow
(if it aint enough)
Aint enough for you
Go solo, oh girl
(you can take the lead)
Play a brand new part
Go solo
Oh, shake it up and take it, shake it up and take it

[...] Read more

song performed by Hall & Oates
Added by Lucian Velea
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Siamo Solo Noi

Siamo solo noi
che andiamo a letto la mattina presto
e ci svegliamo con il mal di testa
siamo solo noi
che non abbiamo vita regolare
che non ci sappiamo limitare
siamo solo noi
che non abbiamo pi rispetto per niente
neanche per la mente
siamo solo noi
quelli che poi muoiono presto
quelli che per lo stesso.
Siamo solo noi
che non abbiamo pi niente da dire
dobbiamo solo vomitare
siamo solo noi
che non vi stiamo neanche pi ad
ascoltare.
Siamo solo noi
quelli che non han pi rispetto per niente
neanche per la gente
siamo solo noi
quelli che ormai non credono pi a niente
e vi fregano sempre.
Siamo solo noi
che tra demonio e santit lo stesso
basta che ci sia posto
siamo solo noi
che facciamo colazione anche con un toast del resto.
Siamo solo noi
quelli che non han voglia di far niente
rubano solamente
siamo solo noi
generazione di sconvolti
che non han pi santi n eroi
siamo solo noi
siamo solo noi
siamo solo noi...

song performed by Vasco Rossi
Added by Lucian Velea
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Rosalind and Helen: a Modern Eclogue

ROSALIND, HELEN, and her Child.

SCENE. The Shore of the Lake of Como.

HELEN
Come hither, my sweet Rosalind.
'T is long since thou and I have met;
And yet methinks it were unkind
Those moments to forget.
Come, sit by me. I see thee stand
By this lone lake, in this far land,
Thy loose hair in the light wind flying,
Thy sweet voice to each tone of even
United, and thine eyes replying
To the hues of yon fair heaven.
Come, gentle friend! wilt sit by me?
And be as thou wert wont to be
Ere we were disunited?
None doth behold us now; the power
That led us forth at this lone hour
Will be but ill requited
If thou depart in scorn. Oh, come,
And talk of our abandoned home!
Remember, this is Italy,
And we are exiles. Talk with me
Of that our land, whose wilds and floods,
Barren and dark although they be,
Were dearer than these chestnut woods;
Those heathy paths, that inland stream,
And the blue mountains, shapes which seem
Like wrecks of childhood's sunny dream;
Which that we have abandoned now,
Weighs on the heart like that remorse
Which altered friendship leaves. I seek
No more our youthful intercourse.
That cannot be! Rosalind, speak,
Speak to me! Leave me not! When morn did come,
When evening fell upon our common home,
When for one hour we parted,--do not frown;
I would not chide thee, though thy faith is broken;
But turn to me. Oh! by this cherished token
Of woven hair, which thou wilt not disown,
Turn, as 't were but the memory of me,
And not my scornèd self who prayed to thee!

ROSALIND
Is it a dream, or do I see
And hear frail Helen? I would flee
Thy tainting touch; but former years
Arise, and bring forbidden tears;

[...] Read more

poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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The Wolf

A cruel Jack Frost blows icy floss
(in front of spring a' burstin')
While swirlin' sheaves of withered leaves,
near freezin' streams a' thirstin'.
A pack reviled is roamin' wild,
a wakin' wolf is howlin',
He scents a lean and lonesome scene,
while on the lurk and prowlin'.

With spangled bolts, white clouds revolt,
and starry skies start closin';
A wild goose soars beyond death's doors,
the naked moon sits posin';
Electric shafts (on fractured rafts)
sail night's cathedral caldrons -
A frenzied burst, the herd's dispersed
in random splayed and sprawled runs.

A she-wolf's eyes with famine cry,
the ancient wolf is bayin',
With weary back, he's lost the track,
his bandied legs betrayin'.
The brood's somewhere in shrouded lair
with she-wolves left to mind 'em -
The wolf, a' drag with empty swag,
is on his way to find 'em.

The pack rejoins with weary loins,
they sense their days are numbered.
In evening's night, he's feeling tight,
with aches and pains encumbered,
And standin' near, with shaggy ears
(one droopin' down, hung over) ,
He'll set the course with renewed force,
because he's still the rover.

Soon snow enshrines the timberlines
the bear's are sleepin' under,
And young, lupine, they'll stifle whines,
as gullies fill with thunder;
With echoes in the mouth o' death,
they bid farewell the lair
While panting puffs o' crystal breath
float, hanging in the air.

As dusk regains the snow-bound plains,
the sinkin' sun's a' hissin',
Their path is black (they don't look back) ,
the herd's long gone a' missin';
Neath northern lights, with barks and bites,

[...] Read more

poem by Terry O'Leary
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No Me Dejes De Querer

Nunca quiero ni pensar
que tus ojos me dejen de ver
no encontraras amor
que como yo te sea siempre fiel
(jrame) que me ver siempre en tus ojos
(bsame) con tus labios dulces
(sabor a miel) que a tu lado solo queiro estar
(y no hay quien) me llene de tanta ternura
(con tu amor) puedo llegar hasta la luna
(escchame) no me dejes de quereeeeeeeer
coro:
solo te pido no me dejes de querer
Que solo solo solo yo vivo por tu querer
solo te pido no me dejes de querer
que triste triste me pongo cuando no estas a mi lado en la noche
solo te pido no me dejes de querer
solo vivo por tu amor, me hace falta tu querer
solo te pido no me dejes de querer
que no no me dejes de querer, no me dejes de querer
(jrame) que me ver siempre en tus ojos
(bsame) con tus labios dulces
(sabor a miel) que a tu lado solo queiro estar
(y no hay quien) me llene de tanta ternura
(con tu amor) yo puedo llegar hasta la luna
(escchame) no me dejes de querer
coro:
solo te pido
solo te pido no me dejes de querer
que no me dejes, no me dejes, no me dejes de querer
solo te pido no me dejes de querer
que tu sabes que yo vivo por tu piel
solo te pido no me dejes de querer
que cuando toy pensando enti mira me siento muy feliz
solo te pido no me dejes de querer
ay no me dejes (de querer)

song performed by Gloria Estefan
Added by Lucian Velea
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Banished Wolf

Banished wolf chased off from her home
Banished wolf left with no place to roam
Banished wolf lies in the cold rain
Banished wolf tries to ease her pain
Banished wolf begins to cry
Banished wolf wants to die
Banished wolf tries to stop her tears
Banished wolf drowns in her fears
Banished wolf felt her world grow black
As her lover cried death just before the attack
Banished wolf licks her wounds
While her whole world is falling to ruins
Banished wolf cleans her cut
And as she does so her pain ease somewhat
Banished wolf wears her scars
Through a life full of years instead of hours
Banished wolf let the past be the past
Banished wolf left the gloom that it cast
Banished wolf lives her life today
And she would not have it anyother way

poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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The Lamb and the Wolf (Ballad)

I saw a lamb to wolf turn prey!
I saw it kill’d in gruesome way;
The lamb was rather small, I say;
I saw it frolicking that day;
It bleated while busy at play;
That day, its life, it had to pay;
And soon, I heard a plaintive cry;
The grass was smeared by lamb’s blood dry!
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”

The wolf was dressed in fine lamb-skin;
It killed by habit, kith and kin;
Like lamb, it spoke and went so near;
It acted friendly, allayed fear;
It took the lamb afar to play;
The lamb was foolish on that day;
It was so meek and frail, not bold;
It wished to see the far-off world.
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”

The wolf then took the lamb away,
To steep a cliff with grass to play;
In moment’s time, it pushed it down;
The foul-play was almost half-done;
The lamb remained so very dazed;
That it was live, kept me amazed;
Before it could then recover,
The wolf made plans to devour.
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”

The wolf noticed the lamb’s sad plight
And asked if it was quite alright;
It said, “I’ll take you to mother.”
The lamb believed the lie, brother!
It took it round and round and round;
There was no sign of flock on ground;
The lamb had gone really far;
Against the wolf, it could not war.
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”

The lamb couldn’t walk any farther;
To pray to God, it didn’t bother;
It was so tired, hungry too;
It did not know what next to do;
The wolf then caught the lamb by throat;

[...] Read more

poem by John Celes
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Every Christian Lion Hearted Man Will Show You

Oh solo Dominique
Oh solo Dominique
Oh solo Dominique
Oh solo Dominique

Take this in hand
Said he who stands
Behind the chair
A broken table there

Every Christian lion hearted man will show you
Every Christian lion hearted man will show you

Oh solo Dominique
Oh solo Dominique
Oh solo Dominique
Oh solo Dominique

Don't walk so tall
Before you crawl
For every child
Is thinking of something wild

Every Christian lion hearted man will show you
Every Christian lion hearted man will show you

Oh solo Dominique
Oh solo Dominique
Oh solo Dominique

Every Christian lion hearted man will show you
Every Christian lion hearted man will show you (will show you)

Oh solo Dominique
Oh solo Dominique
Oh solo Dominique

song performed by Bee Gees from Bee Gees 1st
Added by Lucian Velea
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Lessons Of Love

(s. garrett/g. ballard)
See the children play
Listen to the things they say
One-on-one to one another
Theyre just having fun
Finding out it can be done
They dont seperate by cover
Ooh, young hearts
Facing to feel it so naturally
And the flower grows from the seed and
Chorus:
Practice makes perfect and we tryin enough
And were bound to be learning
The lessons of love
Coz were never too old and never too young
To be teaching each other the lessons of love
Got some work to do
Theres so much we can improve
Piece by piece we come together, yeah
In the neighborhood
I know we can make it good
But weve got to make it better
Oh woh oh, inside each of us has a romelody
But weve got to find our harmony
Practice makes perfect and we tryin rnough
And weve got to remember
The lessons of love
Coz were never too old and never too young
To be teaching each other the lessons of love
Bridge:
Imagine how this world could be
If all of us would live in peace
Nothing good comes easily
Together starts with you and me
Yeah, oh yeah, aha
Lessons of love
Practice makes perfect and we tryin enough
And were bound to be learning
The lessons of love
Coz were never too old and never too young
To be teaching each other
Practice makes perfect and we tryin enough
And weve got to remember
The lessons of love
Coz were never too old and never too young
To be teaching each other the lessons of love
Practice makes perfect, try it enough
(oh, never too young, aha)
And weve got to be learning
The lessons of love (lessons of love)

[...] Read more

song performed by Lea Salonga
Added by Lucian Velea
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Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie

This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.

This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath it
Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman
Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian farmers,--
Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the woodlands,
Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of heaven?
Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers forever departed!
Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty blasts of October
Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them far o'er the ocean
Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful village of Grand-Pre.

Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures, and is patient,
Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman's devotion,
List to the mournful tradition still sung by the pines of the forest;
List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the happy.

PART THE FIRST

I

In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas,
Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand-Pre
Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward,
Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks without number.
Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with labor incessant,
Shut out the turbulent tides; but at stated seasons the flood-gates
Opened, and welcomed the sea to wander at will o'er the meadows.
West and south there were fields of flax, and orchards and cornfields
Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain; and away to the northward
Blomidon rose, and the forests old, and aloft on the mountains
Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty Atlantic
Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from their station descended
There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the Acadian village.
Strongly built were the houses, with frames of oak and of hemlock,
Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the reign of the Henries.
Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-windows; and gables projecting
Over the basement below protected and shaded the doorway.
There in the tranquil evenings of summer, when brightly the sunset
Lighted the village street and gilded the vanes on the chimneys,
Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps and in kirtles
Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning the golden
Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shuttles within doors

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Added by Poetry Lover
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Piedra de Sol

La treizième revient...c’est encor la première;
et c’est toujours la seule-ou c’est le seul moment;
car es-tu reine, ô toi, la première ou dernière?
es-tu roi, toi le seul ou le dernier amant?
Gérard de Nerval, Arthèmis
Un sauce de cristal, un chopo de agua,
un alto surtidor que el viento arquea,
un árbol bien plantado mas danzante,
un caminar de río que se curva,
avanza, retrocede, da un rodeo
y llega siempre:
un caminar tranquilo
de estrella o primavera sin premura,
agua que con los párpados cerrados
mana toda la noche profecías,
unánime presencia en oleaje,
ola tras ola hasta cubrirlo todo,
verde soberanía sin ocaso
como el deslumbramiento de las alas
cuando se abren en mitad del cielo,
un caminar entre las espesuras
de los días futuros y el aciago
fulgor de la desdicha como un ave
petrificando el bosque con su canto
y las felicidades inminentes
entre las ramas que se desvanecen,
horas de luz que pican ya los pájaros,
presagios que se escapan de la mano,

una presencia como un canto súbito,
como el viento cantando en el incendio,
una mirada que sostiene en vilo
al mundo con sus mares y sus montes,
cuerpo de luz filtrado por un ágata,
piernas de luz, vientre de luz, bahías,
roca solar, cuerpo color de nube,
color de día rápido que salta,
la hora centellea y tiene cuerpo,
el mundo ya es visible por tu cuerpo,
es transparente por tu transparencia,

voy entre galerías de sonidos,
fluyo entre las presencias resonantes,
voy por las transparencias como un ciego,
un reflejo me borra, nazco en otro,
oh bosque de pilares encantados,
bajo los arcos de la luz penetro
los corredores de un otoño diáfano,

voy por tu cuerpo como por el mundo,

[...] Read more

poem by Octavio Paz
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Solo Quiero Amarte

(spanish version of nobody wants to be lonely)
Aqu estoy en mi soledad
Dentro de m ser
Solo hay tristeza
Lo he dado todo por salvar t amor
Que se va perdiendo
Necesito tenerte
Quedat junto a m,
Ven conmigo
Sin t me siento tan solo
Sin t no puedo ms
Mi cuerpo pide t cuerpo
T alma acariciar
Aunque intento no lo puedo encontrar
Si algn secreto se esconde en t piel
Sin t me siento tan solo
No vivo, por que no puedo amarte
Why? , why? , why?
Solo t podrs darle la pasin
A m corazn que no esta latiendo
En tus besos quiero desahogar
Este sentimiento
Y te busco en mis sue? os
Quedat junto a m, te deseo
Sin t me siento tan solo
Sin t no puedo ms
Mi cuerpo pide t cuerpo
T alma acariciar
Aunque intento no lo puedo encontrar
Si algn secreto se esconde en t piel
Sin t me siento tan solo
No vivo, por qu no puedo amarte
Why? , why? , why?
Sabes que estoy muriendo
Por que te siento lejos
Devuelveme mi pasin
Todo mi amor, m corazn
Regresa dios de m vida
No, no, no, no
Sin t me siento tan solo
Sin t no puedo ms
Chorus
Sin t me siento tan solo
No quiero estar solo
Sin t no puedo ms
Ya no puedo ms
Mi cuerpo pide t cuerpo
T cuerpo y m cuerpo
T alma acariciar
Aunque intento no lo puedo encontrar

[...] Read more

song performed by Ricky Martin
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Wolf and The Moon

The Wolf and The Moon
By Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
The day is past and the Moon now rises from beneath the mountain to greet the stars.
The Moon smiles on the sleeping towns, their drone wound down. However, in the
forest, Life is still flowing full speed. The Owl fly’s his “day” begun, “Who, Halloo
Moon! ” “Hello to you Owl.” The Moon spins on his way. He makes many more
greetings to the animals of the forest. He starts to grow weary, and makes ready to bed
down for the day when the Wolf came to visit and talk as the animals and Moon talk,
“My good friend Wolf! How are you? ” Wolf jumps playfully to and fro, “I am glad
Wolf that it has been good for you! It is almost time for the Sun to come up now, I
have to go home.” The Wolf whimpered and followed the Moon. When the Moon was
almost home he turned to the Wolf and asked, “Why do you follow me? ” the Wolf
jumped and landed in the Moons hands and curled up with a tremendous sigh. “No
Wolf you cannot come with me, not yet, but now that I know you love me we will be
together in spirit, and someday you will be able to come with me to my home to live.”
For years, the Wolf ran with the Moon at night, and then they would part ways at
dawn. One day while the sun was shining brightly the Wolf, now old to earthly eyes,
faded to a wisp of mist from mortal sight, on the night of the New Moon. You could
see, that night, a cloud in his shape running before the Moon, and as the Moon grew
fuller you could see on the face of the Moon a shape like that old Wolf, you could see a
promise kept. The Moon and Wolf were friends, one entity forever.

poem by Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
Added by Poetry Lover
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