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A dozen poems
For December 20, 2013A version friendly to printer and palmtop
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The Deserted Garden, by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I MIND me in the days departed,
How often underneath the sun
With childish bounds I used to run
To a garden long deserted.
The beds and walks were vanish'd quite;
Untitled, by Archie Smith
I was just
making it
up,
making it up as I moved along,
streets of a gold city paved
Dominus Illuminatio Mea, by Anonymous
IN the hour of death, after this life's whim,
When the heart beats low, and the eyes grow dim,
And pain has exhausted every limb--
The lover of the Lord shall trust in Him.
When the will has forgotten the lifelong aim,
Sappho, by Sara Teasdale
The twilight's inner flame grows blue and deep,
And in my Lesbos, over leagues of sea,
The temples glimmer moonwise in the trees.
Twilight has veiled the little flower face
Here on my heart, but still the night is kind
Song, by Edward J. O'Brien
She goes all so softly
Like a shadow on the hill,
A faint wind at twilight
That stirs, and is still.
She weaves her thoughts whitely,
Azrael, by Robert Gilbert Welsh
The angels in high places
Who minister to us,
Reflect God's smile, -- their faces
Are luminous;
Save one, whose face is hidden,
An Upper Chamber, by Frances Bannerman
I CAME into the City and none knew me;
None came forth, none shouted 'He is here!
Not a hand with laurel would bestrew me,
All the way by which I drew anear--
Night my banner, and my herald Fear.
Le Jardin des Tuileries, by Oscar Wilde
This winter air is keen and cold,
And keen and cold this winter sun,
But round my chair the children run
Like little things of dancing gold.
Sometimes about the painted kiosk
Autumn, by Jean Start Untermeyer
(For my Mother)
How memory cuts away the years,
And how clean the picture comes
Of autumn days, brisk and busy;
Charged with keen sunshine.
The Sea Gypsy, by Richard Hovey
I am fevered with the sunset,
I am fretful with the bay,
For the wander-thirst is on me
And my soul is in Cathay.
There's a schooner in the offing,
The New God, by James Oppenheim
Ye morning-glories, ring in the gale your bells,
And with dew water the walk's dust for the burden-bearing ants:
Ye swinging spears of the larkspur, open your wells of gold
And pay your honey-tax to the hummingbird . . .
O now I see by the opening of blossoms,
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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