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Let Me Open Up Our Love File (I Felt Magic In The Air)

(let me open up our love file
cherish along with me and just smile)

for only the second time together
enjoying and being lost in rainy romantic weather
you stared here and there
while walking to metro station
but i looked at you as my final destination

(let me open up our love file
cherish along with me and just smile)

all of sudden, you pointed something
quickly, for you,
i was ready to do anything
you asked for ice-cream
there I was living up my dream

(let me open up our love file
cherish along with me and just smile)

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poem by Anuj Raj Singh
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Romance Point [5]

ROMANCE POINT [5]
esspeecee …11.06.09.

Why browse
Thro’ eyes
Why not open file?
And save as
‘Save as…’

Cut and paste
You can do
But it’s not
Aye: To love.

Copy and paste
Still not
Aye: To love.

Open the file

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poem by Dr. Sakti P. Chakravorty
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Macaulay's New Zealander

It little profits that, an idle man,
On this worn arch, in sight of wasted halls,
I mope, a solitary pelican,
And glower and glower for ever on Saint Paul's:—
Will no soft-hearted mortal be so very
Obliging as to row me o'er the ferry?

Here three-and-thirty years* I've stood estranged,
A dream of ruin all around me stretching;
And centuries shall see me yet unchanged,
Ever in act to sketch, but nothing sketching;
Mutely immutable, constrain'dly still,
With nought to stand against, except my will.

A wondrous lot is mine; ye bide your doom
Till men say Vixit: mine begins ere birth;
A lonely ghost projected from the womb
Of Time-to-come, I linger now on earth.
Ye vertebrates date back, while I commence
My weary present in the future tense.

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poem by James Brunton Stephens
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Jambalaya

Goodbye joe, me gotta go down the bayou
Me gotta go, pole the pirogue down the bayou
My yvonne, sweetest one, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Well, jambalaya an a crawfish pie an a file gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar an be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Thibodaux, fontaineaux, the place is buzzin
Hey, an the kinfolk come to see yvonne by the dozen
Well, and-a dress in style, go hog wild an be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Well, jambalaya an a crawfish pie, an a file gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my ma cher amio
Well a pick guitar, fill fruit jar an be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have a big fun on the bayou
Wanna settle down, far from town, get me a pirogue
Gonna catch all the fish in the bayou
Gonna swap my mon, to buy yvonne, what she need-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have a big fun on the bayou

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song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Independence

Happy the bard (though few such bards we find)
Who, 'bove controlment, dares to speak his mind;
Dares, unabash'd, in every place appear,
And nothing fears, but what he ought to fear:
Him Fashion cannot tempt, him abject Need
Cannot compel, him Pride cannot mislead
To be the slave of Greatness, to strike sail
When, sweeping onward with her peacock's tail,
Quality in full plumage passes by;
He views her with a fix'd, contemptuous eye,
And mocks the puppet, keeps his own due state,
And is above conversing with the great.
Perish those slaves, those minions of the quill,
Who have conspired to seize that sacred hill
Where the Nine Sisters pour a genuine strain,
And sunk the mountain level with the plain;
Who, with mean, private views, and servile art,
No spark of virtue living in their heart,
Have basely turn'd apostates; have debased
Their dignity of office; have disgraced,

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poem by Charles Churchill
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I. The Ring and the Book

Do you see this Ring?
'T is Rome-work, made to match
(By Castellani's imitative craft)
Etrurian circlets found, some happy morn,
After a dropping April; found alive
Spark-like 'mid unearthed slope-side figtree-roots
That roof old tombs at Chiusi: soft, you see,
Yet crisp as jewel-cutting. There's one trick,
(Craftsmen instruct me) one approved device
And but one, fits such slivers of pure gold
As this was,—such mere oozings from the mine,
Virgin as oval tawny pendent tear
At beehive-edge when ripened combs o'erflow,—
To bear the file's tooth and the hammer's tap:
Since hammer needs must widen out the round,
And file emboss it fine with lily-flowers,
Ere the stuff grow a ring-thing right to wear.
That trick is, the artificer melts up wax
With honey, so to speak; he mingles gold
With gold's alloy, and, duly tempering both,

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

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The file is a gzipped tar file. Your browser is playing tricks with you and trying to be smart.

quote by Rasmus Lerdorf
Added by Lucian Velea
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Freudian Snippet

as i enter
the lady

psychiatrist

propped up
behind

power desk
is scratching

secret messages
with file pen.

when i exit

my file
is still

open

poem by Doug Bentley
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There was an Old Man of the Nile,
Who sharpened his nails with a file,
Till he cut out his thumbs,
And said calmly, 'This comes
Of sharpening one's nails with a file!'

limerick by Edward Lear
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