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Pink Snow

Cherry tree petals fall
April whirl winds stormy blow
Spring in Seattle

poem by Cer Cruz
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Cherry, Cherry Coupe

Go cherry, cherry coupe now
The wildest short around is my cherry, cherry coupe
Its the sharpest thing in town and the envy of my group
Its one of its kind and it really looks good
Chopped nose and deck with louvers on the hood
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
(my cherry coupe beats em up coming off the line)
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
(and she really gets sparks when she starts to whine)
Chrome reversed rims with whitewall slicks
And it turns a quarter mile in one oh six
Door handles are off but you know Ill never miss em
They open when I want with the cellunoid system
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
(my cherry coupe beats em up coming off the line)
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
(and she really gets sparks when she starts to whine)
My coupes tuck and roll underneath the hood
And the rugs, seats, and panels now are looking good
When I go looking for something to do
Shes got enough room now to barely seat two
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
(my cherry coupe beats em up coming off the line)
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
(and she really gets sparks when she starts to whine)
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
(my cherry coupe beats em up coming off the line)
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
(and she really gets sparks when she starts to whine)

song performed by Beach Boys
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Cherry, Cherry

Cherry, cherry
Rozanda was her real name
But cherry was her chosen one
Everybody said that shed soon be dead
But cherry replied at least I had some fun (oh yes)
Her eyes were like a pool of 24 karat diamonds
I was the last in a long line of foolish men who dived in
Chorus:
Cherry, cherry
I think about u every rising sun
Whoa cherry, cherry
Wherever u are, I hope ure havin fun (oh yes)
Tuesday was my big game
North vs. central in basketball
Underneath their long coats
Cherry and the girls wore camisoles
Every time north would run the hoop
Cherry would flash em and they would fall
But not as hard as I fell
When cherry gave me her number and told me 2 call (u should call me)
Using all the money her boyfriend wilbur gave her, shed buy
Anything I wanted, thats why my babys so fly
Chorus
(do do do do do)
Me and cherry got married
And tried our best 2 keep it on the down low, the down low
I was combing her hair
The day that wilbur called and cussed her on the phone
He beat her up real bad and figured I was gonna leave her
Instead I bought a 45 and set out 2 relieve her (take him out)
If he was taken out then he could never harm another
No sooner than I got there, I was met by cherrys mother cryin
Cherry, cherry
Every night I ask the lord why? oh why?
Cherry, cherry
Another victim of a suicide (why oh why? )
Why?
Cherry, cherry
I think about u every rising sun
Whoa cherry, cherry
Wherever u are, I hope ure havin fun
I hope ure having fun, baby
Cherry, cherry
Id give anything 2 kiss u
Cherry, cherry
I guess I just miss u
Cherry

song performed by Prince
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A Country Path in Late Spring

The path of mossy ground nestled
In between maternal hedgerows,
That overgrew atop, dimming down
The brilliance of the day.
Embosomed, a calm-cool vision –
Abstract takes of nature, in
Leaf-spattered green shades;
Stem-speckled brown hues;
Shards of sunlight percolating
Through the random flaws to
Up glittering sprites upon the leaves.

And avian chatter bounced along the burrow,
Smattered by the crosstalk
Of busybody insects;
But outside the green comfort zone,
Other worlds of other sounds of other life
Otherwise gave a hint of
Other dozy goings on.

Hawthorn filled the air,
Filled the nose,
Filled the head –
Pungency had overpowered all –
Gave the late-spring-early-summer haze.

Here and there a break of colour:
Odd bluebells – escapees from nearby woods –
Blue-blushing bell faces glancing down,
Aware of their erectness in the stem;
The flaming wing of red admirals
Broke through a hedge hole to
Break up the calm backdrop,
While flitting blue tits gave
To greater-bodied animation.

Nature’s warm narration –
The undertones of life.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Show Me (Cherry Baby)

Show me, show me
Show me how
Show me, show me
Show me how
Oh cherry
Oh cherry baby
Oh cherry
Oh cherry baby
Oh cherry
Oh cherry baby
Oh cherry
Oh cherry
I found you wanting
Like everyone
Always trying
Happy lying
cos Im no stranger
To the ways of the world
I felt like crying
I felt like dying
We took a coffee
You took it so strong
Shaded from the neon
I could still see your eyes
Oh cherry
Oh cherry baby
Oh cherry
Oh cherry baby
Oh cherry
Oh cherry baby
Oh cherry
Oh cherry baby
Found in the gutter
With a knife in her back
Letter said sorry
Please dont worry
She had a lover
With danger in his eyes
I tried to tell her
But she had the wildest heart
Show me, show me
Show me how
Show me, show me
Show me how
Oh cherry
Oh cherry baby
Oh cherry
Oh cherry baby
Oh cherry
Oh cherry baby

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song performed by INXS
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Show Me

Show me, show me
Show me how
Show me, show me
Show me how
Oh cherry
Oh cherry baby
Oh cherry
Oh cherry baby
Oh cherry
Oh cherry baby
Oh cherry
Oh cherry
I found you wanting
Like everyone
Always trying
Happy lying
'Cos I'm no stranger
To the ways of the world
I felt like crying
I felt like dying
We took a coffee
You took it so strong
Shaded from the neon
I could still see your eyes
Oh cherry
Oh cherry baby
Oh cherry
Oh cherry baby
Oh cherry
Oh cherry baby
Oh cherry
Oh cherry baby
Found in the gutter
With a knife in her back
Letter said sorry
Please don't worry
She had a lover
With danger in his eyes
I tried to tell her
But she had the wildest heart
Show me, show me
Show me how
Show me, show me
Show me how
Oh cherry
Oh cherry baby
Oh cherry
Oh cherry baby
Oh cherry
Oh cherry baby

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song performed by INXS
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Book VI - Part 02 - Great Meteorological Phenomena, Etc

And so in first place, then
With thunder are shaken the blue deeps of heaven,
Because the ethereal clouds, scudding aloft,
Together clash, what time 'gainst one another
The winds are battling. For never a sound there come
From out the serene regions of the sky;
But wheresoever in a host more dense
The clouds foregather, thence more often comes
A crash with mighty rumbling. And, again,
Clouds cannot be of so condensed a frame
As stones and timbers, nor again so fine
As mists and flying smoke; for then perforce
They'd either fall, borne down by their brute weight,
Like stones, or, like the smoke, they'd powerless be
To keep their mass, or to retain within
Frore snows and storms of hail. And they give forth
O'er skiey levels of the spreading world
A sound on high, as linen-awning, stretched
O'er mighty theatres, gives forth at times
A cracking roar, when much 'tis beaten about
Betwixt the poles and cross-beams. Sometimes, too,
Asunder rent by wanton gusts, it raves
And imitates the tearing sound of sheets
Of paper- even this kind of noise thou mayst
In thunder hear- or sound as when winds whirl
With lashings and do buffet about in air
A hanging cloth and flying paper-sheets.
For sometimes, too, it chances that the clouds
Cannot together crash head-on, but rather
Move side-wise and with motions contrary
Graze each the other's body without speed,
From whence that dry sound grateth on our ears,
So long drawn-out, until the clouds have passed
From out their close positions.
And, again,
In following wise all things seem oft to quake
At shock of heavy thunder, and mightiest walls
Of the wide reaches of the upper world
There on the instant to have sprung apart,
Riven asunder, what time a gathered blast
Of the fierce hurricane hath all at once
Twisted its way into a mass of clouds,
And, there enclosed, ever more and more
Compelleth by its spinning whirl the cloud
To grow all hollow with a thickened crust
Surrounding; for thereafter, when the force
And the keen onset of the wind have weakened
That crust, lo, then the cloud, to-split in twain,
Gives forth a hideous crash with bang and boom.
No marvel this; since oft a bladder small,

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poem by Lucretius
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Stormy

Stormy you are the sunshine, baby, whenever you smile
But I call you stormy today
All of a sudden that ol rain is fallin down
And my world is cloudy and gray
Youve gone away
Old stormy stormy
Old stormy stormy
Old stormy stormy
Old stormy stormy
Yesterdays love was alive, the warm summer breeze
But like the weather you changed
Now things are dreary, baby, windy and cold
And I stand alone in the rain
Callin out your name
Stormy stormy
Stormy stormy
Come back to me stormy
Stormy stormy
Bring back that sunny day
Guitar solo
Yesterdays love was alive, the warm summer breeze
But like the weather you changed
Now things are dreary, baby, windy and cold
And I stand alone in the rain
Callin out your name
Whoa! stormy
Stormy, come back to me stormy
Stormy, come back to me stormy
Come on home! stormy
Bring back that sunny day
Guitar solo 2

song performed by Santana
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The Georgics

GEORGIC I

What makes the cornfield smile; beneath what star
Maecenas, it is meet to turn the sod
Or marry elm with vine; how tend the steer;
What pains for cattle-keeping, or what proof
Of patient trial serves for thrifty bees;-
Such are my themes.
O universal lights
Most glorious! ye that lead the gliding year
Along the sky, Liber and Ceres mild,
If by your bounty holpen earth once changed
Chaonian acorn for the plump wheat-ear,
And mingled with the grape, your new-found gift,
The draughts of Achelous; and ye Fauns
To rustics ever kind, come foot it, Fauns
And Dryad-maids together; your gifts I sing.
And thou, for whose delight the war-horse first
Sprang from earth's womb at thy great trident's stroke,
Neptune; and haunter of the groves, for whom
Three hundred snow-white heifers browse the brakes,
The fertile brakes of Ceos; and clothed in power,
Thy native forest and Lycean lawns,
Pan, shepherd-god, forsaking, as the love
Of thine own Maenalus constrains thee, hear
And help, O lord of Tegea! And thou, too,
Minerva, from whose hand the olive sprung;
And boy-discoverer of the curved plough;
And, bearing a young cypress root-uptorn,
Silvanus, and Gods all and Goddesses,
Who make the fields your care, both ye who nurse
The tender unsown increase, and from heaven
Shed on man's sowing the riches of your rain:
And thou, even thou, of whom we know not yet
What mansion of the skies shall hold thee soon,
Whether to watch o'er cities be thy will,
Great Caesar, and to take the earth in charge,
That so the mighty world may welcome thee
Lord of her increase, master of her times,
Binding thy mother's myrtle round thy brow,
Or as the boundless ocean's God thou come,
Sole dread of seamen, till far Thule bow
Before thee, and Tethys win thee to her son
With all her waves for dower; or as a star
Lend thy fresh beams our lagging months to cheer,
Where 'twixt the Maid and those pursuing Claws
A space is opening; see! red Scorpio's self
His arms draws in, yea, and hath left thee more
Than thy full meed of heaven: be what thou wilt-
For neither Tartarus hopes to call thee king,

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poem by Virgil
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The House Of Dust: Complete

I.

The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.

And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.

'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.

We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .

Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.

Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.

Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.

II.

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poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Dads Cherry Tree

There was a large cherry tree in my yard
This tree t’was my dad ‘s favorite
And as the cherry tree grew up to thy sky
He did have a decision

whether or not to chop the tree down
Or risk it falling and killing him
For you see this old cherry tree did
Stand right over his bed

So if the wind kick up or lightning did strike
Would be his end for
The tree would fall and he would go
So unfortunately with the tree

So he would make great decision
And hopefully make it right
It took him many years and many a time
He thought’s the did spite

Him for the year’s went by and the cherry tree
Got more demised, nearer to the bed
As he would lay and begin to wonder
Will this take off my head

So as the year the did expire
Then He finally said
I will take the old tree down
Above my own bed

And the so alas the cherry fell
The tree would breathe its last
And be cut down to stump and be
Safe for dad once again

The tree was made low and the branches did go
Right into the meat smoker
But out of the ash cloud grew another
through the thorns and choker

the tree did live on in another a tree that grew
and so the tree was reborn
from a cherry, the trees great fruit
and so this little sapling grew and it grew

and it grew 1,2,3 foot by the crowing of the year
and so it grew and it got taller
as a little sapling then might or would do
and the tree got no smaller

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poem by Timothy Young
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Ode To The Cherry Blossom

I have grown up with this tree,
as my father had grown with it,
and his father before him.

The cherry blossom tree where I was first exposed to the beauty of nature,
where my baby seat was set upon the picnic blanket in the grass,
and I could watch the petals fall and dance around me and my family.
and they would land in my seat,
and I would play with them.

The cherry blossom tree,
with its long branches,
where I first learned to climb,
and where I got my first broken bone,
after I slipped while pretending to be a monkey.

The cherry blossom tree,
where we had our first play date together.
We ran around and played two person tag,
and two person hide and seek,
and two person leap frog.

The cherry blossom tree,
where we had our first date,
where I picked a blossom and put it in your hair,
and called you my hime,
my princess.

The cherry blossom tree,
where we took shelter from the pouring rain,
and I gave you my jacket to put over your head,
and we ran home to take a bath in our clothes,
Because they couldn’t have gotten wetter anyway.

The cherry blossom tree,
under which we said our vows,
and got married,
and you cried,
and said you felt beautiful,
and I kissed you,
and said you looked beautiful,
and we ran through the blossom petals.

The cherry blossom tree,
where we took our two daughters,
and watched them pick flowers,
and give them to you.

The cherry blossom tree,
where our daughters took their loves,

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poem by Evan Puglisi
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Petals

Shes the angel on top of the tree
Sugarheart, here she comes
Shes going to fall on me
Innocence was our fire
We told the truth
I miss the sweet boys
In the summer of their youth
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
They will make you so
So cynical
The fire burns, the flesh destorys
The past that made us old
Shes the grace of this world
Shes too pure
For the likes of this world
This world is a whore
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
I wait till mine and
Hey, its all mine
Hey, its all mine
Never knew what I could be
All the darling buds of may
They fall with no sound
They carry you down
They carry you down
Ooooooooo, ooooooh
Ooooooooo
All the lillies bloomed and blossomed
Wilted and theyre shivering
I cant stop their withering,
Oh, this world is a war
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you

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song performed by Hole
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April, Dear April

April, dear April, I beg you come soon –
And bring your sweet primroses too.
Let them join in with the daffodils’ play,
As skies offer sunshine anew.

April, dear April, my blessed spring child,
Ornate in your yellow and white,
Teasing the birds into trilling their songs
And dancing to music of flight.

April, dear April, come enter my dreams
And rid me from cold winter chills.
Banish the rain and those blustery winds
And warm up our countryside hills.

April, dear April, I know you can’t stay -
You have to move on ‘till next year.
And though I shall cherish the glory of summer,
You’ll always be my month most dear.

From: Succumbed to Thinking by Mark Raymond Slaughter, lulu.com
Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved

April April April April
April April April April
April April April April

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Blow By Blow

Written by dave mason, john cesario, and mark holden.
Its always something
Or it aint nothing at all
Its feast or famine
Too hot or out in the cold
So here we stand
Alone together
Our backs against the wall
If my heart wasnt in it
I wouldnt be here at all
Blow by blow
Well its blow by blow
And here we go again
(here we go again)
Well its blow by blow
Coming off the ropes
And fighting for the hope in us all
Are you in my corner
Or playing both sides of the wall
So make a stand
Its now or never
Cause life is much too short
And if your heart isnt in it
You shouldnt be here at all
Blow by blow
Well its blow by blow
And here we go again
(here we go again)
Well its blow by blow
Blow by blow
Well its blow by blow
Im back on my feet again
(Im back on my feet again)
Well its blow by blow
I can almost see through the tears
And Ive got my pride
The dreams that Ive hidden for years
Just wont be denied
So here we stand
Alone together
Our backs against the wall
If my heart wasnt in it
I wouldnt be here at all
Blow by blow
Well its blow by blow
And here we go again
(here we go again)
Well its blow by blow
Blow by blow
Well its blow by blow

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song performed by Fleetwood Mac
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Kavya-2

The afternoon of 2nd April was profusely bountiful; as
the Sun cast its flamboyantly Omnipotent spell; upon
even the most penuriously obsolete granules of soil,

The afternoon of 2nd April was unbelievably rhapsodic;
as vivaciously striped butterflies; melodiously
philandered over the; perennially blooming lotuses,

The afternoon of 2nd April was exotically enchanting;
as gorgeous waterfalls cascaded harmoniously from the
mountains; euphorically titillating dreary earth,

The afternoon of 2nd April was blissfully bestowing;
as fountains of ever pervading beauty; sprang in
ebulliently untamed unison; from the aisles of
orphaned nothingness,

The afternoon of 2nd April was blisteringly patriotic;
as unflinchingly scintillating soldiers fearlessly
marched forward; to impregnably defend their
ruthlessly imprisoned motherland,

The afternoon of 2nd April was ingratiatingly
heavenly; as gigantically enamoring festoons of
leaves; exotically placated all those aimlessly
loitering without the most insipid of roof,

The afternoon of 2nd April was marvelously majestic;
as a blanket of vividly fascinating rainbows;
poignantly enshrouded the fathomless firmament of blue
sky,

The afternoon of 2nd April was stupendously royal; as
an unsurpassable fleet of kingly eagles; indefatigably
encircled the gloriously misty cocoon of satiny
clouds,

The afternoon of 2nd April was impeccably candid; as
even the most disastrously beleaguered of
conscience’s; irrefutably drifted towards the
corridors of unassailable truth,

The afternoon of 2nd April was exhilaratingly
adventurous; as torrentially frosty winds of
timelessness; ecstatically gushed past the
unsurpassably grandiloquent landscapes,

The afternoon of 2nd April was incredulously mystical;
as the endless undulations of the ravishing forests;
incessantly reverberated; with an ocean of melodious

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poem by Nikhil Parekh
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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,

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poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 9

WHILE these affairs in distant places pass’d,
The various Iris Juno sends with haste,
To find bold Turnus, who, with anxious thought,
The secret shade of his great grandsire sought.
Retir’d alone she found the daring man, 5
And op’d her rosy lips, and thus began:
“What none of all the gods could grant thy vows,
That, Turnus, this auspicious day bestows.
Æneas, gone to seek th’ Arcadian prince,
Has left the Trojan camp without defense; 10
And, short of succors there, employs his pains
In parts remote to raise the Tuscan swains.
Now snatch an hour that favors thy designs;
Unite thy forces, and attack their lines.”
This said, on equal wings she pois’d her weight, 15
And form’d a radiant rainbow in her flight.
The Daunian hero lifts his hands and eyes,
And thus invokes the goddess as she flies:
“Iris, the grace of heav’n, what pow’r divine
Has sent thee down, thro’ dusky clouds to shine? 20
See, they divide; immortal day appears,
And glitt’ring planets dancing in their spheres!
With joy, these happy omens I obey,
And follow to the war the god that leads the way.”
Thus having said, as by the brook he stood, 25
He scoop’d the water from the crystal flood;
Then with his hands the drops to heav’n he throws,
And loads the pow’rs above with offer’d vows.
Now march the bold confed’rates thro’ the plain,
Well hors’d, well clad; a rich and shining train. 30
Messapus leads the van; and, in the rear,
The sons of Tyrrheus in bright arms appear.
In the main battle, with his flaming crest,
The mighty Turnus tow’rs above the rest.
Silent they move, majestically slow, 35
Like ebbing Nile, or Ganges in his flow.
The Trojans view the dusty cloud from far,
And the dark menace of the distant war.
Caicus from the rampire saw it rise,
Black’ning the fields, and thick’ning thro’ the skies. 40
Then to his fellows thus aloud he calls:
“What rolling clouds, my friends, approach the walls?
Arm! arm! and man the works! prepare your spears
And pointed darts! the Latian host appears.”
Thus warn’d, they shut their gates; with shouts ascend 45
The bulwarks, and, secure, their foes attend:
For their wise gen’ral, with foreseeing care,
Had charg’d them not to tempt the doubtful war,
Nor, tho’ provok’d, in open fields advance,
But close within their lines attend their chance. 50

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poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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Cherry Pie

Dirty, Rotten, Filthy, Stinky
She's my cherry pie
Cool drink of water
Such a sweet surprise
Tastes so good
Make a grown man cry
Sweet Cherry Pie
Yeah
Wow
Heh Heh
Well swinging on the front porch
Swinging on the lawn
Swinging where we want
Cause there ain't nobody home
Swingin' to the left and
Swingin' to the right
I think about baseball
I'll swing all night, yeah
Yeah, yeah - huh!
Swingin in the living room
Swingin' in the kitchen
Most folks don't
Cause they're too busy bitchin'
Swingin' in there
Cause she wanted me to feed her
So I mixed up the batter
And she licked the beater
I scream, you scream,
We all scream for her
Don't even try
Cause you can't ignore her
CHORUS
She's my cherry pie
Cool drink of water
Such a sweet surprise
Tastes so good make a grown man cry
Sweet cherry pie
Oh yeah
She's my cherry pie
Put a smile on your face
Ten miles wide
Looks so good
Bring a tear to your eye
Sweet cherry pie
Yeah sweet cherry pie
Yeah
Swingin to the drums
Swingin to guitar
Swingin to the bass in the back of my car
Ain't got money, ain't got no gas

[...] Read more

song performed by Warrant
Added by Lucian Velea
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Seasonable Retour-Knell

SEASONABLE RETOUR KNELL
Variations on a theme...
SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS

Author notes

A mirrored Retourne may not only be read either from first line to last or from last to first as seen in the mirrors, but also by inverting the first and second phrase of each line, either rhyming AAAA or ABAB for each verse. thus the number of variations could be multiplied several times.- two variations on the theme have been included here but could have been extended as in SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS robi03_0069_robi03_0000

In respect of SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS
This composition has sought to explore linguistic potential. Notes and the initial version are placed before rather than after the poem.
Six variations on a theme have been selected out of a significant number of mathematical possibilities using THE SAME TEXT and a reverse mirror for each version. Mirrors repeat the seasons with the lines in reverse order.

For the second roll the first four syllables of each line are reversed, and sense is retained both in the normal order of seasons and the reversed order as well... The 3rd and 4th variations offer ABAB rhyme schemes retaining the original text. The 5th and 6th variations modify the text into rhyming couplets.

Given the linguistical structure of this symphonic composition the score could be read in inversing each and every line and each and every hemistitch. There are minor punctuation differences between versions.

One could probably attain sonnet status for each of the four seasons and through partioning in 3 groups of 4 syllables extend the possibilites ad vitam.

Seasonable Round Robin Roll Reversals
robi03_0069_robi03_0000 QXX_DNZ
Seasonable Retour-Knell
robi03_0070_robi03_0069 QXX_NXX
26 March 1975 rewritten 20070123
lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllll
For previous version see below
_______________________________________
SPRING SUMMER

Life is at ease Young lovers long
Land under plough; To hold their dear;
Whispering trees, Dewdrops among,
Answering cow. Bold, know no fear.

Blossom, the bees, Life full of song,
Burgeoning bough; Cloudless and clear;
Soft-scented breeze, Days fair and long,
Spring warms life now. Summer sends cheer.

AUTUMN WINTER

Each leaf decays, Harvested sheaves
Each life must bow; And honeyed hives;
Our salad days Trees stripped of leaves,
Are ending now. Jack Frost has knives.

Fruit heavy lays Time, Prince of thieves,
Bending the bough, - Onward he drives,

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
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Tree Time Warriors Bliss

Tree … Tree … Tree … Tree Time
Tree … Tree … Tree … Tree Time
Tree … Tree … Tree … Tree Time
Tree … Tree … Tree Time Warriors
Tree … Tree … Tree Time Warriors
Blissssss ……
Blissssss ……
Sensual
Sensual touch …
Tree Time Warriors
In E flat
Tree Time Warriors
In E flat
Tree Time Warriors
In Spiritual Sensual Touch
Tree Time
Tree time
Tree … Tree … Tree … Tree Time
Tree … Tree … Tree … Tree Time
Tree … Tree … Tree … Tree Time
Tree Time Warriors
Tree Time Warriors
And
Bliss.

poem by Stephen Karnaghan
Added by Poetry Lover
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