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The Lost Letter

In the postoffice window was one broken pane;
In the wainscot there was one loosen'd board;
And conveniently near was the broad oaken table,
Where the mail from the bag had been pour'd,
'Twas a morning in May, with a sweet odor'd breeze;
And it happen'd unnotic'd by all,
That a most precious missive, that love laden letter,
Flutter'd down thro' the gap in the wall.

Two lives wreck'd by a zephyr!
Two hearts crush'd by the fall,
When that most precious missive, that love laden letter,
Flutter'd down thro' the gap in the wall.

Both were faithful and true, 'Twas a gossip's remark,
that had clouded loving hearts with concern.
Then, alas! came a quarrel; and she, in her anger,
Bade him go, nevermore to return.
Oh, how soon she repented! how great was her grief,
And how humbly she penn'd her recall!

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poem by Henry Clay Work
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A Friendly Game Of Football

We were challenged by The Dingoes - they're the pride of Squatter's Gap-
To a friendly game of football on the flat by Devil's Trap.
And we went along on horses, sworn to triumph in the game,
For the honour of Gyp's Diggings, and the glory of the same.

And we took the challenge with us. It was beautiful to see,
With its lovely curly letters, at its pretty filigree.
It was very gently worded, and it made us all feel good,
For it breathed the sweetest sentiments of peace and brotherhood.

We had Chang, and Trucker Hogan, and the man who licked The Plug,
Also Heggarty, and Hoolahan, and Peter Scott, the pug;
And we wore our knuckle-dusters, and we took a keg on tap
To our friendly game of football with The Dingoes at The Gap.

All the fellows came to meet us, and we spoke like brothers dear.
They'd a tip-dray full of tucker, and a waggon load of beer,
And some lint done up in bundles; so we reckoned there'd be fun
Ere our friendly game of football with the Dingo Club was done.

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poem by Edward George Dyson
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The Tube

The tube

A carriage full of hearts
And a truck load of souls
A track a direction
It’s all that we need
Fixed speed
No controls
Passive cargo
Manners embargo
Rush hour frenzy feed
Strap hangin chain gang
Don’t look
Bad luck -to read the next page
of another mans book
Stand on the right on the right way to survival
And the next station is
The next station is
None of my business sorry
We’re sorry to announce

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poem by Maggie Oke
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Halls Gap

From the oval at Halls Gap the football and cricket ground
The view it is breathtaking of the wooded hills all around
On a warm and a pleasant evening in September of the year
'Twould seem to me Utopia to Halls Gap is quite near
No factory chimney to pollute the sky the Grampians air is clean
And in the early weeks of Spring the place looking so green,
The grey shrike thrush is whistling on a black wattle tree
And Nature's splendid beauty is everywhere around me
I envy Halls Gap's residents the people born to win
Such a beautiful part of the World they happen to live in,
A Town surrounded by hills as fair as i have known
For natural beauty Halls Gap with the best can hold it's own
And from the football oval breathtaking scenery
The wooded hills resplendent in Nature's greenery.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Conroy's Gap

This was the way of it, don't you know --
Ryan was "wanted" for stealing sheep,
And never a trooper, high or low,
Could find him -- catch a weasel asleep!
Till Trooper Scott, from the Stockman's Ford --
A bushman, too, as I've heard them tell --
Chanced to find him drunk as a lord
Round at the Shadow of Death Hotel.
D'you know the place? It's a wayside inn,
A low grog-shanty -- a bushman trap,
Hiding away in its shame and sin
Under the shelter of Conroy's Gap --
Under the shade of that frowning range
The roughest crowd that ever drew breath --
Thieves and rowdies, uncouth and strange,
Were mustered round at the "Shadow of Death".

The trooper knew that his man would slide
Like a dingo pup, if he saw the chance;
And with half a start on the mountain side

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poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Due to gap

Due to gap
Motor not
Running well
Due to gap
I wander
Not landing
Anywhere
Due to gap
Kite could not
Fly in sky.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Sonnet: Great Things Can Be Missed

So narrow’s gap between one’s love and lust!
So brittle’s line between world’s war and peace!
’Tis photo-finish ’tween second and first!
A trifle separates labor from ease!

So narrow’s zone ’tween contempt and friendship!
A hair’s breath decides human love from hate!
Narrow’s the gap ’tween stranger and sib-ship!
A trifle’s ’tween God’s providence and fate!

One mouth of air decides one’s life and death!
A wrong premise turns believer, atheist!
’Tween birth and death, ’tis hair-line in its breath!
The hand that saves can turn into a fist!

But wide’s the gap between Heaven and Hell;
You choose just one and hang onto it well!

poem by John Celes
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Wide difference and gap

Wide difference and gap

Not appreciable dear...read this reply to your poem..Wide difference and gap.....There is sea gap and wide difference
One has to draw lesson with inference
Truth is never lost but is never tried
At every stage it is ignored and denied

There is no meeting point and remain wide apart
It is 180 degree apart and can’t be drawn on chart
Even if drawn then one curve may go up in positive direction
Other may travel down word with c0omplete negative action

Where there is wisdom! Foolishness can’t remain
All successes come in sequences or in chain
There may be joy and happiness all over
Sadness may be pushed to one side of the corner

How truth can be pursued with lies?
It is wrong contention and denies
Its worthless association in strong protest

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Back Against The Wall

Can you see now where I stand, my friend?
Will you offer me your helping hand?
And will you cross the void and speak the words?
Rush, I'm beggin' you, it hurts
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts
I'm standing back against the wall
Dare I to move I got to fall
My heart is blinded by the light
I close my eyes forever
May not turn left, may not turn right
I sense a gap to every side
I'm standing back against the wall
Back against the wall
I can hear it coming closer now
Blaring silence of the dark below
Under my feet I feel it slide like sand
A frequent crushing down
Again, again, again and again
I'm standing back against the wall
Dare I to move I got to fall

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song performed by Helloween
Added by Lucian Velea
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The King's Tragedy James I. Of Scots.—20th February 1437

I Catherine am a Douglas born,
A name to all Scots dear;
And Kate Barlass they've called me now
Through many a waning year.
This old arm's withered now. 'Twas once
Most deft 'mong maidens all
To rein the steed, to wing the shaft,
To smite the palm-play ball.
In hall adown the close-linked dance
It has shone most white and fair;
It has been the rest for a true lord's head,
And many a sweet babe's nursing-bed,
And the bar to a King's chambère.
Aye, lasses, draw round Kate Barlass,
And hark with bated breath
How good King James, King Robert's son,
Was foully done to death.
Through all the days of his gallant youth
The princely James was pent,
By his friends at first and then by his foes,

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poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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