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The confusing of horse and donkey

There was a man
riding on a horse
horse have a mark of cross

horse saw a monkey
and from horse comes out a donkey

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There Was a Saviour

There was a saviour
Rarer than radium,
Commoner than water, crueller than truth;
Children kept from the sun
Assembled at his tongue
To hear the golden note turn in a groove,
Prisoners of wishes locked their eyes
In the jails and studies of his keyless smiles.

The voice of children says
From a lost wilderness
There was calm to be done in his safe unrest,
When hindering man hurt
Man, animal, or bird
We hid our fears in that murdering breath,
Silence, silence to do, when earth grew loud,
In lairs and asylums of the tremendous shout.

There was glory to hear
In the churches of his tears,
Under his downy arm you sighed as he struck,
O you who could not cry
On to the ground when a man died
Put a tear for joy in the unearthly flood
And laid your cheek against a cloud-formed shell:
Now in the dark there is only yourself and myself.

Two proud, blacked brothers cry,
Winter-locked side by side,
To this inhospitable hollow year,
O we who could not stir
One lean sigh when we heard
Greed on man beating near and fire neighbour
But wailed and nested in the sky-blue wall
Now break a giant tear for the little known fall,

For the drooping of homes
That did not nurse our bones,
Brave deaths of only ones but never found,
Now see, alone in us,
Our own true strangers' dust
Ride through the doors of our unentered house.
Exiled in us we arouse the soft,
Unclenched, armless, silk and rough love that breaks all rocks.

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Once There Was A True Love

once there was a true love
no poem was written

and then that true love
somehow failed

and since then
hundreds and hundreds of poems have been written.

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Last Night There Was No Moon

last night there was no moon
no stars
i opened the window
to have a good view again
of the nothingness
above me

there is the cold wind roaming
among tree tops
passing by my window not looking back
not getting in
not minding
its hands are wings embracing
every space

i am glad
it does not know my name

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There was one I met upon the road

There was one I met upon the road
Who looked at me with kind eyes.
He said, "Show me of your wares."
And this I did,
Holding forth one.
He said, "It is a sin."
Then held I forth another;
He said, "It is a sin."
Then held I forth another;
He said, "It is a sin."
And so to the end;
Always he said, "It is a sin."
And, finally, I cried out,
"But I have none other."
Then did he look at me
With kinder eyes.
"Poor soul!" he said.

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There Was A Poem I Waited To Be Inspired By

THERE WAS A POEM I WAITED TO BE INSPIRED BY

There was a poem I waited to be inspired by -
I heard it once and then again and again
And each time it reminded me
That elsewhere there were others who knew how to believe in life-

And so I told myself
I would try to write down one day
A poem of my own
Which would give others hope also.

Now writing this I think of myself as a kind of fiction-
But what great poems of hope and faith there have been
And what great voices mankind has known-

It almost makes one believe
That such a voice can come again
Even if it is not necessarily my own-

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If There Was Forever

What would life be like
If the promises of forever
Like time or existence
Outlived our spoken words.

With the parrots we marry
We will live for eternity
The quarrels and arguments
Which are often silly
Will become part of us.

Those married to hyenas
Must get used to their appetites
Or take that to be the norm.
Food will always be ready
It’s good if she’s greedy!

Those tied to cats
Will have to pamper them
They’ll be shopping daily
And who can ask for more?
Men like shopping after all!

Its good there’s no forever
Because if there was
It will be torment after
Torment, fight after fight.
God is certainly a man!

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There Was A Time

There was a time when the wide world
seemed immense, when every tree
was gigantic, streams were like rivers
with something celestial
that touching my eyesight
when I was but a child

but now as a man
it’s with different eyes that I look
and although things have taken
their normal size
there are still things that are sublime
that I at times comprehend.

The rainbow with its bright colours
that arc above the earth,
has a kind of magic
which science explains,
but still there’s a kind of mystery
that nothing can really measure.

The rising sun that paints the sky
and clouds in its loveliness,
even the moon and stars
have an own influence
on feelings, on well being
as if in their presence they can bless.

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If there was....

If there was a Window in the Sky,
You would have always been in front of my eyes.
even though distance were many a mile.
A glance at you would make me Smile.

If there was a Rainbow in the sky,
I'd walk its length to you, just to say Hi!
when you'd reply, i'l be so Happy I want to fly.

If there was an ocean in the sky
I would search for a beautiful Pearl
I know none can be a match for you, but I'd still try.

If there was a garden in the sky
The most exquisite flowers will bloom,
carrying all the scent towards you, even the wind will fly.

If there was a God in the sky and if people are right that he decides Destiny,
I'll lie on all four and beg him for you and for everybody to know,
with Mine I will write your name in the sky.

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There was a sweet lady

There was a sweet lady, named dame Murdoch, so true,
Who took to caring for many children like me and you;
The children's hospital was one of her places she cared about,
One thing was ths lady never got angry, or did shout.

She took the time to sit down, have a nice chat,
About sick children, who needed help, she got to that;
She raised help with money and support in every function,
Dame Murdoch, if you were running for mayor, you'd win the election.

Thank dear lady, you certainly gave in more ways than one,
You never gave in till the work for you was all done,
To live over the century, you've seen things come and go,
From every patient, family, friend, and everyone you did know.
Goodbye sweet lady, We'll see you in heavens hats so.

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Where There Was Darkness

(nickolas ashford/valerie simpson)
Where there was darkness
You came and now theres
An abundance of light
Nothing but sinkin sand
Suddenly I reach out
Theres your hand
What a feeling it is to know
Youre in my corner
And you wont let me go
And now I know that
I wont be alone no more
Ill give you all I have
And if you teach me
I will learn to give you more
You are my anchor now
And like a ship at sea
Ooh, your love will steady me
What a feeling this is to know
Youre in my corner
And you wont let me go
And now I know that
I wont be alone no more
Im so glad
Just wanna thank you baby
What a feeling this is to know
Youre in my corner
And you wont let me go
What a feeling this is to know
Youre in my corner
And you wont let me go
What a feeling this is to know
Youre in my corner
And you wont let me go
Thank you baby
What a feeling this is to know
Youre in my corner
And you wont let me go

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Ever since there was sun and stars

If you wipe away those tears
And look back over all of those years
You will find not a surer kind of love
Ever since there was a sun and stars
Above to warm the blood in our hearts
"Forever you" I've been in love
"Forever you" I've been in love
I've been there in love for you

You will find not a surer kind of love
You will find every wish
You've only been thinking, dreaming of
Oh, dream of me!
Like I'm dreaming of you again…

Oh when the winter raps its cloak
Around your heart
I will always be there to warm
And shelter you
"Forever you"
"Forever you"
From the cold and dark
Sure as a fire is burning in your heart
"Forever will I be"
Tracking back in the melting ice
And snow
It's never easy but if you love me
You will discover and find the old me
And I will be
Sure to follow you
"Forever you"
For all eternity
Because of what you have meant to me.

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There Was One

There was one a-riding grand
On a tall brown mare,
And a fine gold band
He brought me there.

A little, gold band
He held to me
That would shine on a hand
For the world to see.

There was one a-walking swift
To a little, new song,
And a rose was the gift
He carried along,

First of all the posies,
Dewy and red.
They that have roses
Never need bread.

There was one with a swagger
And a soft, slow tongue,
And a bright, cold dagger
Where his left hand swung-

Craven and gilt,
Old and bad-
And his stroking of the hilt
Set a girl mad.

There was one a-riding grand
As he rode from me.
And he raised his golden band
And he threw it in the sea.

There was one a-walking slow
To a sad, Iong sigh.
And his rose drooped low,
And he flung it down to die.

There was one with a swagger
And a little, sharp pride,
And a bright, cold dagger
Ever at his side.

At his side it stayed
When he ran to part.
What is this blade
Struck through my heart?

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Katherine Mansfield

There was a Child Once

There was a child once.
He came to play in my garden;
He was quite pale and silent.
Only when he smiled I knew everything about him,
I knew what he had in his pockets,
And I knew the feel of his hands in my hands
And the most intimate tones of his voice.
I led him down each secret path,
Showing him the hiding-place of all my treasures.
I let him play with them, every one,
I put my singing thoughts in a little silver cage
And gave them to him to keep...
It was very dark in the garden
But never dark enough for us. On tiptoe we walked
among the deepest shades;
We bathed in the shadow pools beneath the trees,
Pretending we were under the sea.
Once--near the boundary of the garden--
We heard steps passing along the World-road;
O how frightened we were!
I whispered: "Have you ever walked along that road?"
He nodded, and we shook the tears from our eyes....

There was a child once.
He came--quite alone--to play in my garden;
He was pale and silent.
When we met we kissed each other,
But when he went away, we did not even wave

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There was a Boy

There was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs
And islands of Winander!--many a time,
At evening, when the earliest stars began
To move along the edges of the hills,
Rising or setting, would he stand alone,
Beneath the trees, or by the glimmering lake;
And there, with fingers interwoven, both hands
Pressed closely palm to palm and to his mouth
Uplifted, he, as through an instrument,
Blew mimic hootings to the silent owls,
That they might answer him.--And they would shout
Across the watery vale, and shout again,
Responsive to his call,--with quivering peals,
And long halloos, and screams, and echoes loud
Redoubled and redoubled; concourse wild
Of jocund din! And, when there came a pause
Of silence such as baffled his best skill:
Then, sometimes, in that silence, while he hung
Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise
Has carried far into his heart the voice
Of mountain-torrents; or the visible scene
Would enter unawares into his mind
With all its solemn imagery, its rocks,
Its woods, and that uncertain heaven received
Into the bosom of the steady lake.
This boy was taken from his mates, and died
In childhood, ere he was full twelve years old.
Pre-eminent in beauty is the vale
Where he was born and bred: the churchyard hangs
Upon a slope above the village-school;
And, through that church-yard when my way has led
On summer-evenings, I believe, that there
A long half-hour together I have stood
Mute--looking at the grave in which he lies!

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You See...There Was Just Too Many Of Us!

I smell my grandmother's molasses cookies.
Deep dish apple and peach pies.
And grape preserves she would make.
And my own mother's beautiful hair,
Before she grayed.
And 'overnight'...
Seemed to have aged.

As I sit and reminisce.
About so many things I miss!

I see my grandfather,
Working in the backyard.
In the shed.
Where he 'diagnosed' the engine...
Of an old truck.
With every part of it laid in pieces.
Each of them,
Carefully spread to keep them near.

'Don't...
Move,
A thing!
Or pick it up...
Because you're curious!
I got my eye on ya! '

I hear my father say...
'It is time to get your haircut, boy.
And when you sit in that barber's chair...
You bet not make a fuss!
And don't say nothing to annoy! '

I remember my aunts and uncles...
Rushing to pick apples, grapes and pears.
From an old pig farm,
Where Chappelle Gardens now sits.
In a neighborhood in Hartford, Connecticut.

I remember this as if yesterday!
And the whippings we all shared.
Regardless...
Of who or who was not actually there!
No one was spared.

'I don't care who did what!
All of you are getting it! '
My grandmother would say!

I remember rolling my eyes...
With wishes I could run away!

~Grandma, I didn't do anything.
It was her! ~

*No it wasn't it was him! *

**No it wasn't it was them! **

You see...
There was just too many of us!
And my grandmother didn't really care.
She just wanted all of us to know...
The punishment she dealt,
Would be quick.
Honest.
And fair!


Note:
Dedicated to my wonderful family.
When we (many of us) all lived in either Stowe Village,
And/or Bellevue Square.
Tenement projects.
In separate buildings AND apartments.
Back in 'the day'.

Love you!

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As There Was No Other Option 2

...........When I blasted the earth with all life on it
There began a phase of silence in the solar system.
God ' the almighty ' further said, ' What next? '
I stared at him and asked, ' What do you mean? '
And a greater silence surrounded us next.

He said, 'Brother, your act leaves me null and void,
Along with this end you know, my relevance has been lost'.
I retorted, 'Your relevance was never my concern
And I have just righted a wrong done by causes unknown'.
God 'the almighty ' fumed within I knew, but He kept mum.

I said, 'Listen, the origin of life wasn`t an error,
As a choice wasn`t there within the first organism
And life had no pretentions of the kind.
Then, you weren`t there to create a relevance'.
You were not there as none thought and spoke of you'.

I said, 'Listen, then emerged the man the supreme
And he invited you into his lobby to wrong many a right.
Religions and their scriptures had you fattened....
Men and women and the old and the young
Sang hymns and your relevance got a glitter'.

Life on the planet was a mixture of pleasure and pain
And there blew the winds of disaster of might and wealth.
Crumbling the castles of ' civilization and humanity'.
Emerged many animals that crushed the hapless,
Still there were you, man said, everywhere signifying no relevance'.

I said, 'Listen, the pathos and the plight of the flora and the fauna
Spread over millenia necessitated my emergence.
From nothingness have I emerged thanks to you,
With blind eyes you saw your ghost pouncing somewhere'.
God 'the almighty' was disintegrating, the image was silent.

The planets minus the earth still revolved round the Sun
And there was an end to the dual notions of
The Great creation and The big bang.
The Milky way and the galaxies lingered on..
God 'the almighty' withered into the nothingness.

As there weren`t minds to think, nor mouths to speak next
The final philosophy of silence began and
I wasn`t there anymore for the work had been done.

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Patrick White

There Was Nothing Ever To Forgive You For

There was nothing ever to forgive you for
I'd say to you now if you were still alive.
Pain doesn't maintain an agent,
though as many who have lived
have been named as perpetrators;
it just occurs
like happiness just happens
like a stroke of luck, a touch of grace
in an astronomical lottery of famished chances.
Voices arise in my head to address you
in the immensities of time and sorrow
like spokesmen for my heart
and another part of me
listens from the audience to this play
that's been going on for light years without you.
I suspect I'm still trying to perfect the way I loved you
out of force of habit, knowing how
redundant and absurd that is
long after the play closed
and the plaster cherubs
on the Ionian cornices of the theatre
were buried in the rubble
along with the comic and tragic masks
that shed their petals when the lights went off
and everyone was left face to face with themselves.
You have drifted in and out of my poems for years
like a curtain at an open window
in an abandoned house,
like blue smoke from an autumn fire,
the fragrance of the bath you draw from the stars
and sweeten with the salts of lunar wildflowers
whenever you want to renew your virginity
like the kings' mistress
stepping out of the sea
like some Renaissance Venus
covering her sex up with a serpentine lock of hair.
You're the sparrow on the finger of Catullus' lover
except now you can only make it as far
as my windowsill
though I leave everything open to you
to come and go as you please and must.
No illusory skies. No broken necks.
No more finger-stroking the soft walnut of a bird's head
like a lost locket full of grief,
like a small lamp that can't grant anymore wishes
however you caress it.
Ah, the genie's out mingling with the Milky Way
like all unencompassed spirits of the night,
like dead souls in the bodies of Canada geese
heading southwest
though their echoes are veering northeast
as if their homeless ghosts
had a place and mind of their own,
an airy nothingness
without a local habitation or a name.
In my view of the world as picture-music
in an expanding universe with its foot to the floor
on a pedal of dark energy
the vision's always too big
for any frame or stage or star map
you bring to it to try and express
where things are improbably at now.
We were young together for awhile
and we sought to embrace the world
and everything in it
even if it meant kissing the dead on the forehead
to wake them up gently from their long dream
of flying in formation with Canada geese,
though it never did.
I tried it on you more than once.
I kissed every bead on a rosary of prophetic skulls.
And still to this day no one answers, no one hears.
I tried to scry the future
in the crystal balls of my tears
but all I ever saw was the same old moon,
the same old stars that crossed us off
their birthday guest list
like a calendar of total eclipses
that had already taken place.
And I knew the future was far behind us.
And your early death could only make you more beautiful
as the years wore out their threadbare flying carpets
and those rare bright nocturnal spirits of life
you were meant to meet and fall in love with
like the heart loves its bloodstream
like a waterclock loves the passage of time
when it's full to overbrimming
with water on the moon
grow rarer and further apart
like stars on the skin of our cosmic enlargements.
Just like this open window
that never lets eternity become a barrier to the dead.
I've never closed the curtains on the play.
I've never drawn a veil over
the fountains and the waterfalls
the wetlands and rapids of my mindstream
and said to the lady of the lake
in her garment of mist
this is live water
and that water's dead
as if there were a wave of difference
between the one that carries forth
and the one that carries away.
The cloud and the snow on the mountaintop
both speak the same language,
share the same mother-tongue
as does the fog in the valley
the ice, the rain, the dew,
as if what's false about the living
were true of the dead as well,
everything sublime, everything trivial.
Hydra-headed water shapeshifting
through our hands
like the desert sands of an hourglass
that dump the pyramid
and finally get out of the box.
Lunar landscapes
with transmogrifying mindstreams
that apply themselves like water
to mending gardens on the moon
while death waits like a stranger at the gate
to commend you on the green thumb
that's apparent in your choice of wildflowers.
I can still feel you bend time
like the body of a guitar
when you're around me
trying to tune the spider webs
in the corner of the room I write in
to your cosmic whole note of silence.
And just as you were a muse of mine in life
and I drew your intoxicating waters
deeply from the well
and we walked under the stars awhile
without caring where we were going
so even in death
I can feel you come to the dead branch sometimes
like inspiration to a night bird's heart
when it doesn't really matter
if anyone answers or not
because you flower like longing
in the roots of my solitude
and the moon blossoms
and my poems unfold like leaves.

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

There Was a Little Girl

There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very good indeed,
But when she was bad she was horrid.

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There was set before me a mighty hill

There was set before me a mighty hill,
And long days I climbed
Through regions of snow.
When I had before me the summit-view,
It seemed that my labour
Had been to see gardens
Lying at impossible distances.

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There was a man who lived a life of fire

There was a man who lived a life of fire.
Even upon the fabric of time,
Where purple becomes orange
And orange purple,
This life glowed,
A dire red stain, indelible;
Yet when he was dead,
He saw that he had not lived.

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