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Saturday evening, writing haiku on
A sheet, a red head roach passes by
Squeesh.

haiku by Oluwatosin Richard Shiba Aribo (2012)
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On More Saturday Night

One More Saturday Night
-----------------------
I went down to the mountain, I was drinkin' some wine,
looked up in the heavens Lord I saw a mighty sign,
written in fire across the heavens, plain as black and white;
Get prepared, there's gonna be a party tonight.
Uhuh, Hey! Saturday Night!
Yeh, uhuh one more Saturday night,
Hey saturday night !
Everybody's dancin' down the local armory
with a basement full of dynamite and light artillery.
The temperature keeps risin', everybody gittin' high;
come the rockin' stroke of midnite, the place is gonna fly.
Uhuh, Hey! Saturday Night!
Yeh, uhuh one more Saturday night,
Hey saturday night !
Turn on channel six, the President comes on the news,
says "I get no satisfaction, that's why I sing the blues."
These wives, they don't get crazy, Lord, they know just what to do,
crank up that old Victrola, put on them rockin' shoes.
Uhuh, Hey! Saturday Night!
Yeh, uhuh one more Saturday night,
Hey saturday night !
When God way up in Heaven, for whatever it was worth,
thought He'd have a big old party, thought He'd call it planet Earth.
Don't worry about tomorrow, Lord, you'll know it when it comes,
when the rock and roll music meets the risin' shinin' sun.
Uhuh, Hey! Saturday Night!
Yeh, uhuh one more Saturday night,
Hey saturday night !
Hey another Saturday night,
Hey another Saturday night,
Everybody gettin' right,
Hey another Saturday night,
One more saturday, one more Saturday night,
Hey another Saturday night,
Hey another Saturday night,
Hey another Saturday night,
One more saturday, one more saturday night.
Hey another Saturday night,
Hey another Saturday night,
Hey another Saturday night,
One more saturday, one more saturday night

song performed by Grateful Dead
Added by Lucian Velea
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Saturday Night's Alright

It's getting late have you seen my mates,
It's getting late have you seen my mates,
Go on and tell me when the boys get here.
Go on and tell me when the boys get here.
It's seven o'clock and I want to rock,
It's seven o'clock and i want to rock,
Want to get a belly full of beer.
Want to get a belly full of beer.
My old man's drunker than a barrel full of monkeys
My old man's drunker than a barrel full of monkeys
And my old lady she don't care
And my old lady she don't care
My sister looks cute in her braces and boots with a handful of grease in her hair.
My sister looks cute in her braces and boots with a handful of grease in her hair.
Hey... Don't give us none of your aggravation,
Hey... don't give us none of your aggravation,
We've had it with your discipline.
We've had it with your discipline.
Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting, get a little action in.
Saturday night's alright for fighting, get a little action in.
I get about as oiled as a diesel train, gonna set this dance alight.
I get about as oiled as a diesel train, gonna set this dance alight.
Cause' Saturday Night's the night I like,
Cause' saturday night's the night i like,
Saturday Nights Alright..
Saturday nights alright..
Alright, Alright!
Alright, alright!
Well, we're packed pretty tight in here tonight and I'm looking for a dolly who'll see me right.
Well, we're packed pretty tight in here tonight and i'm looking for a dolly who'll see me right.
I may use a little muscle to get what I need, and sink a little drink and shout out, 'She's with me!'.
I may use a little muscle to get what i need, and sink a little drink and shout out, "she's with me!".
A couple of the sounds that I really like are the sound of a switchblade and a motorbike.
A couple of the sounds that i really like are the sound of a switchblade and a motorbike.
I'm a juvenile product of the working class, who's best friend floats in the bottom of a glass.
I'm a juvenile product of the working class, who's best friend floats in the bottom of a glass.
Don't give us none of your aggravation, we've had it with your discipline.
Don't give us none of your aggravation, we've had it with your discipline.
Saturday Night's Alright for fighting, to get a little action in.
Saturday night's alright for fighting, to get a little action in.
I get about as oiled as a diesel train, gonna set this dance alight.
I get about as oiled as a diesel train, gonna set this dance alight.
Cause Saturday Night's the night I like,
Cause saturday night's the night i like,
Saturday Night's Alright...
Saturday night's alright...
Alright, Alright!
Alright, alright!
Chorus: Saturday, Saturday, Saturday!........
Chorus: saturday, saturday, saturday!........

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song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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On A Saturday Night

Mama said, she said it's gonna be alright
Yes she did, well come to bed and turn out the light
She's sleeping there, she's dreaming through her life
Yes she is
Well you know you've done no wrong
All you done is sing this song
You sing this song, yeah
On a Saturday nite
On a Saturday nite
Everything is alright, wooh
That's when the bad man meets his fate
Sitting there, you're feeling only second rate
You're sorry now, you've come a little bit too late
Yes you did
But when you come around
You only bring you down
You feel a clown, yeah
On a Saturday nite
On a Saturday nite
Everything is alright, yeah
Mama said, she said it's gonna be alright
You know she said, you've got to see the coming light
You know you are, you're riding through your life
Yes you are
Well you know you've done your best
All you need's a little rest
You've done your best, yes
On a Saturday nite
On a Saturday nite
Everything is alright
Everything is alright
On a Saturday nite
On a Saturday nite
Everything is alright
Everything is alright
Saturday nite
Saturday nite
Saturday nite
Saturday nite
Saturday nite
Saturday nite
Saturday nite
Saturday nite
Saturday nite
Saturday nite
Saturday nite
Saturday nite

song performed by Journey
Added by Lucian Velea
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On A Saturday Nite

Mama said, she said it's gonna be alright
Yes she did, well come to bed and turn out the light
She's sleeping there, she's dreaming through her life
Yes she is
Well you know you've done no wrong
All you done is sing this song
You sing this song, yeah
On a Saturday nite
On a Saturday nite
Everything is alright, wooh
That's when the bad man meets his fate
Sitting there, you're feeling only second rate
You're sorry now, you've come a little bit too late
Yes you did
But when you come around
You only bring you down
You feel a clown, yeah
On a Saturday nite
On a Saturday nite
Everything is alright, yeah
Mama said, she said it's gonna be alright
You know she said, you've got to see the coming light
You know you are, you're riding through your life
Yes you are
Well you know you've done your best
All you need's a little rest
You've done your best, yes
On a Saturday nite
On a Saturday nite
Everything is alright
Everything is alright
On a Saturday nite
On a Saturday nite
Everything is alright
Everything is alright
Saturday nite
Saturday nite
Saturday nite
Saturday nite
Saturday nite
Saturday nite
Saturday nite
Saturday nite
Saturday nite
Saturday nite
Saturday nite
Saturday nite

song performed by Journey
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hurricane Cindy

What's that piece of ass i see walking over here?
What's that piece of ass to me, who is she standing near?
And when i walk on a cyclone
You should see it get rolling
Over my heart and emotion inside me
They go rolling inside me
Hold me close and never let me go
All my life i've wanted you to know
A few things 'bout me
I feel beautiful today
Lovely, beautiful
Saturday, saturday, saturday, saturday
Saturday, saturday, what's on the heel?
Saturday, saturday, saturday, saturday
What's on the heel, what's on the heel?
And when i walk on a cyclone
You should see it get rolling
Over my heart and emotion inside me
They go rolling inside me
Put it on the stereo and play
All my life i've wanted you to say
A few things 'bout me
I feel beautiful today
Lovely, beautiful
Saturday, saturday, saturday, saturday
Saturday, saturday, what's on the heel?
Saturday, saturday, saturday, saturday
What's on the heel, what's on the heel?
And when i walk on a cyclone
You should see it get rolling
Over my heart and emotions inside me
They go rolling inside me
And when i walk it's a riot
You should see the commotion
A hundred people drowning in oceans inside me
They go rolling inside me
Inside me
Inside me
"that's for cindy crawford.

song performed by Liz Phair
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Take on Red

Red for blood –
Pumping out a life;
Paling in a death;
Blushing in a feminine face –
Flushing out her puberty;
Stain a presage for the mother ready.

And red, a flag of hatred in the eye –
The brutal other side –
Blood-release of war;
The sundered heart!

But then the red of simple dress
To give a beauty all she needs –
And flaming hair
And flimsy lace of underwear
And passion in the wanton heart
And dreams of crimson stockinged legs apart –

The rawness in the fantasy that
Only red can be.

And I? To only seek for Autumn
Bleeding in her many hues
Of red and other sister colours –
Those of tiring summer;
The fall of evening chill,
To wake with mist of morn,
Until cerise of dawn
Presents another day.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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When Saturday Comes

Wind me up and see what I can do for you
Switch me on, I'd do anything you want me to
Let me go and I come ticking like a timebomb
Just call my name and I come running like a marathon
The magic and the mystery
Out here on this field of dreams
When Saturday comes
Nothing else matters to me
When Saturday comes
You got to wear your heart on your sleeve
When Saturday comes
Nothing else matters to me
When Saturday comes
The winner takes it all
So don't let me down, don't you let me down
Sweat and blood, You know I couldn't give y'any of this
Pain and pride, there ain't no room for second best
Clock strikes three and it's time to be the hero
D'you want to be a Blade, it's a feeling that you'll never know
You've got to fight it tooth and nail
Out here on this Battlefield
When Saturday comes
Nothing else matters to me
When Saturday comes
You got to wear your heart on your sleeve
When Saturday comes
Nothing else matters to me
When Saturday comes
The winner takes it all
So don't let me down, don't you let me down
The magic and the mystery
Out here on this field of dreams
When Saturday comes
Nothing else matters to me
When Saturday comes
You got to wear your heart on your sleeve
When Saturday comes
Nothing else matters to me
When Saturday comes
You got to wear your heart
You got to wear your heart
When Saturday comes
Nothing else matters to me
When Saturday comes
You got to wear your heart on your sleeve
When Saturday comes
Nothing else matters to me
When Saturday comes
You got to wear your heart
You got to wear your heart

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song performed by Def Leppard
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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Truth and the Devil

The devil unstoppably took pride in salaciously writing; the book of
obnoxious caste-creed and venomously penalizing hatred,

The devil unstoppably took pride in acrimoniously writing; the book of
indiscriminate bloodshed and disastrously traumatizing ruthlessness,

The devil unstoppably took pride in vengefully writing; the book of
tyrannical devastation and lecherously bellicose orphaning,

The devil unstoppably took pride in fretfully writing; the book of
vindictive war and satanically criminal holocausts,

The devil unstoppably took pride in maliciously writing; the book of
coldblooded barbarism and manipulatively bizarre malice,

The devil unstoppably took pride in forlornly writing; the book of
worthless
ghosts and mortuaries brutally anointed with fresh blood,

T The devil unstoppably took pride in indigently writing; the book of
nonchalant spuriousness and fecklessly insipid meaninglessness,

The devil unstoppably took pride in torturously writing; the book of
ominous
animosity and hedonistically pugnacious illwill,

The devil unstoppably took pride in dictatorially writing; the book of
licentious bawdiness and insanely threadbare nothingness,

The devil unstoppably took pride in heinously writing; the book of
lascivious poverty and baselessly crippling uncertainty,

The devil unstoppably took pride in savagely writing; the book of
despicable
defeat and lethally ballistic atrociousness,

The devil unstoppably took pride in raunchily writing; the book of
dolorous
delinquency and insidiously slandering betrayal,

The devil unstoppably took pride in preposterously writing; the book of
scurrilous lunatism and barbarously incarcerating fiendishness,

The devil unstoppably took pride in frigidly writing; the book of
jejune
mockery and impudently castigating brazenness,

The devil unstoppably took pride in heartlessly writing; the book of
ghastly
bloodshed and indefatigably bombarding politics,

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Saturday Night

(chuck cannon/jimmy stewart)
S.a.t.u.r.d.a.y, night
S.a.t.u.r.d.a.y
I gotta get out of these coveralls
Theyre throwin a dance at the union hall
I just got paid so I got a little cash
I been workin all week gonna have me a blast
Monday, tuesday, humpday, wednesday, thursday, friday
Take up all of my life, and that aint right
I get my rest on sunday
But I have a little fun on saturday night
S.a.t.u.r.d.a.y, saturday night
S.a.t.u.r.d.a.y
Im gonna wash and wax my truck
I got a date with lady luck
She gonna wear her dancin shoes
And we gonna get just a little footloose
Monday, tuesday, humpday, wednesday, thursday, friday
Take up all of my life, and that aint right
I get my rest on sunday
Then I have a little fun on saturday night
S.a.t.u.r.d.a.y, saturday night
S.a.t.u.r.d.a.y, saturday night
Saturday night
Saturday night
Saturday night
Well the band just played their last song
But me and my baby gonna party on, you know thats right
Gonna find another place with a neon light
Cant go home its saturday night
Monday, tuesday, humpday, wednesday, thursday, friday
Take up all of my life, and that aint right
I take my rest on sunday
Then I have a lot of fun on saturday night
S.a.t.u.r.d.a.y, saturday night
S.a.t.u.r.d.a.y, saturday night
S.a.t.u.r. all dressed up saturday night
S.a.t.u.r. ready saturday night
S.a.t.u.r.d.a.y all dressed up, ready to go, come on baby lets hit the road

song performed by Lonestar
Added by Lucian Velea
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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.

[...] Read more

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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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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High 'n' Dry

Saturday, i feel right
I been drinking all day
Yes i got a date, a midnight ride
I had to get it away
Yeah, i'm not a loner, i'm not a fool
Don't need a reason, reason to be cool
I got my whiskey, i got my wine
I got my woman, and this time the lights are going out
(saturday night) high
(saturday night) high 'n' dry
(saturday night) i'm high
(saturday night) high 'n' dry
Ow, i feel bad, i feel mean
I'm up and down and in between
On the bottle, i'm on the line
I'm up and feeling fine
Oh take me high
Saturday, kickin' out, her train was comin' to me
I gotta move, number one
Saturday night on the run
(saturday night) high
(saturday night) high 'n' dry
(saturday night) got my whiskey
(saturday night) got my wine
(saturday night) got my woman
(saturday night) high 'n' dry
You gotta try me tonight

song performed by Def Leppard
Added by Lucian Velea
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Saturday

I'm good to go
And I'm going nowhere fast
It could be worse
It could be taking you there with me
I'm good to go
But it looks like I'm still on my own
I'm good to go
For something golden
Though the motions I've been going through have failed
And I'm coasting on potential towards the wall
At a 100 miles an hour
When I say
Two more weeks
My foot is in the door (yeah)
I can't sleep
In the wake of Saturday (Saturday)
Saturday
When these open doors were open-ended
Saturday
When these open doors were open-ended
Pete and I attacked
And lost the story
Oh we promised them decisions
The mass of youthful innocence
And I read about the afterlife
But I never really lived more than an hour (more than an hour)
When I say
Two more weeks
My foot is in the door (yeah)
I can't sleep
In the wake of Saturday (Saturday)
Saturday
When these open doors were open-ended
Saturday
When these open doors were open-ended
And I read about the afterlife
But I never really lived
And I read about the afterlife
But I never really lived
Two more weeks
My foot is in the door
Me and Pete
In the wake of Saturday
Saturday
When these open doors were open-ended
Saturday
When these open doors were open-ended
Saturday
Saturday

song performed by Fall Out Boy
Added by Lucian Velea
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With Rose In Hand

Prayer is worth more than a rose
in my hand where love grows
for God and all he knows
The rose has a thorn
which Jesus felt on the crown he had worn.
the rose is red as the blood from his head
when he was crucifed before we were born.

[...] Read more

poem by Meg Harrison
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The Scorpion and The Cockroach

It was in a cleanly washed jam jar that Frank put them in,
he wanted to know which would survive, which one would win.
The scorpion wasted no time as it arched its back and struck,
but the cockroach quite unaffected, for a way out it did look.

The roach disliked being attacked and tried to climb the jar’s side,
but the glass was too steep and smooth, and so it couldn’t hide.
Repeatedly it tried to climb the jar, but it fell upon its back
and so the scorpion launched another ferocious attack.

The cockroach tried desperately to become upright once again,
as the scorpion’s venomous tail tried to strike the roach’s brain.
With a flick of its sturdy wings the roach became upright,
but still it didn’t resist attack, or put up a fight.

The battle weary scorpion grew tired of attacking its foe
and ceased hostilities at least for a moment or so.
But then the cockroach became hungry and had a desire to eat,
so approached the scorpion and nibbled at its feet.

This act of war enraged the scorpion and so it attacked again,
but the roach never flinched and gave no sign of pain.
The scorpion was exhausted and couldn’t attack any more,
it collapsed breathing deeply on the glass jar floor.

The roach attacked the tail the part with the deadly sting
and severed off a large piece to show who was king.
As the ravenous roach gorged itself on the fresh food supply
the scorpion panicked and gave escaping another try.

Frantically running around the jar at high speed it went
until it suddenly stopped, all its energy was spent.
Meanwhile the busily eating cockroach paid it no mind
this scorpion was going nowhere until mealtime.

poem by Orlando Belo
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Drive In Saturday

(uh uh aaah) let me put my arms around your head
(dom du aaah) gee, its hot, lets go to bed
Dont forget to turn on the light
Dont laugh babe, itll be alright
(dom du aaah) pour me out another phone
(dom du aaah) Ill ring and see if your friends are home
Perhaps the strange ones in the dome
Can lend us a book we can read up alone
And try to get it on like once before
When people stared in jaggers eyes and scored
Like the video films we saw
His name was always buddy (got got du aaah aah aah)
And hed shrug and ask to stay
Shed sigh like twig the wonder kid (got got du aaah)
And turn her face away
Shes uncertain if she likes him (got got du aaah aah aah)
But she knows she really loves him
Its a crash course for the ravers (got got du aaah)
Its a drive-in saturday
Jung the foreman prayed at work (dom du aaah)
Neither hands nor limbs would burst
Its hard enough to keep formation with this fall out saturation
(bah dom bah) cursing at the astronette
(dom du aaah) who stands in steel by his cabinet
Hes crashing out with sylvian
The bureau supply for ageing men
With snorting head he gazes to the shore
Once had raised a sea that raged no more
Like the video films we saw
His name was always buddy (got got du aaah aah aah)
And hed shrug and ask to stay
Shed sigh like twig the wonder kid (got got du aaah)
And turn her face away
Shes uncertain if she likes him (got got du aaah aah aah)
But she knows she really loves him
Its a crash course for the ravers (got got du aaah)
Its a drive-in saturday
His name was always buddy (got got du aaah aah aah)
And hed shrug and ask to stay
Shed sigh like twig the wonder kid (got got du aaah)
And turn her face away
Shes uncertain if she likes him (got got du aaah aah aah)
But she knows she really loves him
Its a crash course for the ravers (got got du aaah)
Its a drive-in saturday, yeah, yeah
(drive-in saturday)
(its a drive-in saturday)
(its a drive-in saturday)
Drive in saturday
(its a drive-in saturday)

[...] Read more

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Undying One- Canto III

'THERE is a sound the autumn wind doth make
Howling and moaning, listlessly and low:
Methinks that to a heart that ought to break
All the earth's voices seem to murmur so.
The visions that crost
Our path in light--
The things that we lost
In the dim dark night--
The faces for which we vainly yearn--
The voices whose tones will not return--
That low sad wailing breeze doth bring
Borne on its swift and rushing wing.
Have ye sat alone when that wind was loud,
And the moon shone dim from the wintry cloud?
When the fire was quench'd on your lonely hearth,
And the voices were still which spoke of mirth?

If such an evening, tho' but one,
It hath been yours to spend alone--
Never,--though years may roll along
Cheer'd by the merry dance and song;
Though you mark'd not that bleak wind's sound before,
When louder perchance it used to roar--
Never shall sound of that wintry gale
Be aught to you but a voice of wail!
So o'er the careless heart and eye
The storms of the world go sweeping by;
But oh! when once we have learn'd to weep,
Well doth sorrow his stern watch keep.
Let one of our airy joys decay--
Let one of our blossoms fade away--
And all the griefs that others share
Seem ours, as well as theirs, to bear:
And the sound of wail, like that rushing wind
Shall bring all our own deep woe to mind!

'I went through the world, but I paused not now
At the gladsome heart and the joyous brow:
I went through the world, and I stay'd to mark
Where the heart was sore, and the spirit dark:
And the grief of others, though sad to see,
Was fraught with a demon's joy to me!

'I saw the inconstant lover come to take
Farewell of her he loved in better days,
And, coldly careless, watch the heart-strings break--
Which beat so fondly at his words of praise.
She was a faded, painted, guilt-bow'd thing,
Seeking to mock the hues of early spring,
When misery and years had done their worst

[...] Read more

poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
Added by Poetry Lover
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When I wasn't breathing

When I wasn’t blissfully snoring; I was still inexhaustibly writing a
cistern of stupendously rhapsodic and gloriously majestic Immortal Love
Poetry,

When I wasn’t unsurpassably fantasizing; I was still inexhaustibly
writing a
garden of ingeniously magical and miraculously mitigating Immortal Love
Poetry,

When I wasn’t superbly adventuring; I was still inexhaustibly writing
an
ocean of bountifully resplendent and timelessly undefeated Immortal
Love
Poetry,

When I wasn’t scrumptiously relishing; I was still inexhaustibly
writing a
playground of optimistically enlightening and unbelievably royal
Immortal
Love Poetry,

When I wasn’t limitlessly triumphing; I was still inexhaustibly writing
a
cascade of beautifully panoramic and effulgently liberating Immortal
Love
Poetry,

When I wasn’t pricelessly smiling; I was still inexhaustibly writing a
lantern of unendingly vibrant and inscrutably tantalizing Immortal Love
Poetry,

When I wasn’t gloriously partying; I was still inexhaustibly writing a
paradise of eternally vivacious and pristinely redolent Immortal Love
Poetry,

When I wasn’t unassailably inspiring; I was still inexhaustibly writing
a
festoon of incredulously ameliorating and perpetually compassionate
Immortal
Love Poetry,

When I wasn’t magnanimously feasting; I was still inexhaustibly writing
a
cocoon of symbiotically philanthropic and ubiquitously coalescing
Immortal
Love Poetry,

When I wasn’t ebulliently fornicating; I was still inexhaustibly
writing a
mist of wonderfully reinvigorating and blessedly burgeoning Immortal

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Troubadour. Canto 3

LAND of the olive and the vine,
The saint and soldier, sword and shrine!
How glorious to young RAYMOND'S eye
Swell'd thy bold heights, spread thy clear sky,
When first he paused upon the height
Where, gather'd, lay the Christian might.
Amid a chesnut wood were raised
Their white tents, and the red cross blazed
Meteor-like, with its crimson shine,
O'er many a standard's scutcheon'd line.

On the hill opposite there stood
The warriors of the Moorish blood,--
With their silver crescents gleaming,
And their horse-tail pennons streaming;
With cymbals and the clanging gong,
The muezzin's unchanging song,
The turbans that like rainbows shone,
The coursers' gay caparison,
As if another world had been
Where that small rivulet ran between.

And there was desperate strife next day:
The little vale below that lay
Was like a slaughter-pit, of green
Could not one single trace be seen;
The Moslem warrior stretch'd beside
The Christian chief by whom he died;
And by the broken falchion blade
The crooked scymeter was laid.

And gallantly had RAYMOND borne
The red cross through the field that morn,
When suddenly he saw a knight
Oppress'd by numbers in the fight:
Instant his ready spear was flung,
Instant amid the band he sprung;--
They fight, fly, fall,--and from the fray
He leads the wounded knight away!
Gently he gain'd his tent, and there
He left him to the leech's care;
Then sought the field of death anew,--
Little was there for knight to do.

That field was strewn with dead and dying;
And mark'd he there DE VALENCE lying
Upon the turbann'd heap, which told
How dearly had his life been sold.
And yet on his curl'd lip was worn
The impress of a soldier's scorn;

[...] Read more

poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Added by Poetry Lover
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