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A dozen poems
For todayA version friendly to printer and palmtop
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The Forsaken Merman, by Matthew Arnold
COME, dear children, let us away;
Down and away below.
Now my brothers call from the bay;
Now the great winds shoreward blow;
Now the salt tides seaward flow;
No Pushing Metal, by Beverly Bishop
I am a Southern Black Textile
A textile that produces words
An open refinery of definition
For the cause of past racial
Competition
My Childhood Home I See Again, by Abraham Lincoln
I
My childhood's home I see again,
And sadden with the view;
And still, as memory crowds my brain,
There's pleasure in it too.
Kubla Khan, by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
IN Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
Saturday Night, by Mary Colborne-Veel
Saturday night in the crowded town;
Pleasure and pain going up and down,
Murmuring low on the ear there beat
Echoes unceasing of voice and feet.
Withered age, with its load of care,
Departure, by Coventry Patmore
IT was not like your great and gracious ways!
Do you, that have naught other to lament,
Never, my Love, repent
Of how, that July afternoon,
You went,
The Runner in the Skies, by James Oppenheim
Who is the runner in the skies,
With her blowing sc>
Prayer for Indifference, by Fanny Greville
I ASK no kind return of love,
No tempting charm to please;
Far from the heart those gifts remove,
That sighs for peace and ease.
Nor peace nor ease the heart can know,
To His Inconstant Mistress, by Thomas Carew
WHEN thou, poor Excommunicate
From all the joys of Love, shalt see
The full reward and glorious fate
Which my strong faith shall purchase me,
Then curse thine own inconstancy!
Prayers, by Henry Charles Beeching
GOD who created me
Nimble and light of limb,
In three elements free,
To run, to ride, to swim:
Not when the sense is dim,
Romance, by Christopher John Brennan
Of old, on her terrace at evening
...not here...in some long-gone kingdom
O, folded close to her breast!...
--our gaze dwelt wide on the blackness
(was it trees? or a shadowy passion
Gordon's Grave, by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
All the heat and the glow and the hush
of the summer afternoon;
the scent of the sweet-briar bush
over bowing grass-blades and broom;
the birds that flit and pass;
Lost, by Luna Hoola
Confused road leading to nowhere intertwined lives seperate us from our reality's kissing heaven on a sunday afternoon let us hear the praise that raise us from scrawny boys to metapysical men wanting to evolve from the puddle of mud we crawl from our lives confused a road of thread intertwined lives pass by swimming in oceans of red jello anger and hate take over our lives lost little boys lost little girls look for each other there fates sealed inside a box of cereal candy colored clowns who thrive on chaos lure them into there auto mobiles wanting a bit more sacared soulfull solitude we lay our hearts into what else could we ask for lost little boys searching for peace and love but opening there bright colerfull eye's to murder, sex, and hate the words that mezmorize words that hypnotize lies and deciet all at youre feet begging for there forgiveness but all you give them is greif tearfull tantrims tastefull sighs signs of the apocolypse on a distant horizen waiting for!
one applause the one from nowhere the one that only exists in youre mind so now the unbelevible line is drawn which you stand at the edge waiting for you metapysical mind to come to terms with the soul that left you high and dry standing at the edge with youre own two feet you stand to contemplate how lost you have gotten the wirey little boy lost for a lifetime in search of the lost little girl who waits for him on the otherside of hell waiting for the bell of time to end to come to terms of how well her life was spent.
searching for meaning a neverend betrayed and dismayed by lucky stars hanging behind locked doors black as the night it was bliss that we missed not to long ago where our fates where locked with messages from space twiglight and long ours and day time races that last for ages all this to be found in hours of glory we witness our stories bieng read from a book that we just happen to have took from a little lost girl who we happened to find wandering alone in the dark woods where colors mean nothing and distortions fasinate or realm of thought the lost little girl carried a frown that seemed glued to her personality she seemed so distraught by what she had seen she grew up in the same world as us where little lost girls grow up have such little trust waiting for lost little boys to hear you chants of "come save us" SO THE SHIVERS run down you spine you still cant trust lost little boy whispers trusting me is a must not everyone is a gloomy gus candy coated and loaded!
with fears of mistrust why cant you believe what i say im not here to harm you i just want to be freinds with a girl i seem to like lost or found i still want you around youre a groovy little girl who captured my soul who broke the boundries and created the elements boundless like the laws of gravity.
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