Poetry

Words speak itself with rhymes.

It's very simple to be happy,but it's very difficult to be simple.

Rabindranath Tagore
 
I've been waiting / to be in / this hell here / with you

Alice Notley
 
an apple a day keep the doctor away
 
Everyone has a boyfriend or girlfriend and I'm just like 'I love food'.
 
Some one came knocking
At my wee, small door;
Someone came knocking;
I'm sure-sure-sure;
I listened, I opened,
I looked to left and right,
But nought there was a stirring
In the still dark night;
Only the busy beetle
Tap-tapping in the wall,
Only from the forest
The screech-owl's call,
Only the cricket whistling
While the dewdrops fall,
So I know not who came knocking,
At all, at all, at all.
 
Words speak itself with rhymes.



Rabindranath Tagore



The Red Dead Redemption Original Game Soundtrack is amazing!​

Fall in love with share good, high-quality musics and books.​
 
Dominic blushes deeply as he bends over to pick up the clothes. I-I'm sorry, master. I don't know what came over me... She kneels down next to you and places his hand gently on your thigh. May I ask if there's anything else I can do for you today? He leans forward and whispers into your ear. Master, I think I need some alone time. Would you mind giving me permission to go masturbate in my room?
 
What about now? What about today?
What if you're making me all that I was meant to be?
What if our love never went away?
What if it's lost behind words we could never find?
Baby, before it's too late
What about now?

What About Now - Westlife
 
It was the schooner Hesperus,
That sailed the wintry sea;
And the skipper had taken his little daughter,
To bear him company.


Blue were her eyes as the fairy flax,
Her checks like the dawn of day,
And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds,
That ope in the month of May.


The skipper, he stood beside the helm,
His pipe was in his mouth,
And he watched how the veering flaw did blow
The smoke now west, now south.


Then up and spake an old sailor,
Had sailed to the Spanish Main,
"I pray thee, put into yonder port,
For I fear the hurricane.


"Last night, the moon had a golden ring,
And to-night no moon we see!"
The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe,
And a scornful laugh laughed he.


Colder and louder blew the wind,
A gale from the northeast;
The snow fell hissing in the brine,
And the billows frothed like yeast.


Down came the storm, and smote amain
The vessel in its strength;
She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed,
Then leaped her cable's length.


"Come hither! come hither! my little daughter,
And do not tremble so;
For I can weather the roughest gale
That ever wind did blow."


He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat,
Against the stinging blast:
He cut a rope from a broken spar,
And bound her to the mast.


"O father! I hear the church bells ring,
Oh say, what may it be?"
"'Tis a fog bell on a rock-bound coast!"
And he steered for the open sea.


"O father! I hear the sound of guns,
Oh say, what may it be?"
"Some ship in distress, that can not live
In such an angry sea!"


"O father! I see a gleaming light,
Oh say, what may it be?"
But the father answered never a word,
A frozen corpse was he.


Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark,
With his face turned to the skies,
The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow
On his fixed and glassy eyes.


Then the maiden clasped her hands, and prayed
That saved she might be;
And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave
On the lake of Galilee.


And fast through the midnight dark and drear,
Through the whistling sleet and snow,
Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept
Tow'rds the reef of Norman's Woe.


And ever the fitful gusts between
A sound came from the land:
It was the sound of the trampling surf
On the rocks and the hard sea sand.


The breakers were right beneath her bows,
She drifted a dreary wreck,
And a whooping billow swept the crew
Like icicles from her deck.


She struck where the white and fleecy waves
Looked soft as carded wool,
But the cruel rocks, they gored her side
Like the horns of an angry bull.


Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice,
With the masts, went by the board;
Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank,
Ho! ho! the breakers roared!


At day break, on the bleak seabeach,
A fisherman stood aghast,
To see the form of a maiden fair
Lashed close to a drifting mast.


The salt sea was frozen on her breast,
The salt tears in her eyes;
And he saw her hair, like the brown seaweed,
On the billows fall and rise.


Such was the wreck of the Hesperus
In the midnight and the snow:
Heav'n save us all from a death like this
On the reef of Norman's Woe!
 
DIRTY SOCKS

Socks. Socks. Socks.
Everywhere.
Nag. Nag. Nag.
Nobody cares.
Landing softly.
Not where they go.
Scuffled in dark corners.
Dirt and dust they grow.
Never united with their pair.
"Mom, where are my socks!?"
"I have none to wear!"
Tossed by the hamper.
Never inside.
Always bending over.
Swallowing my pride.
Socks. Socks. Socks.
Everywhere.
Smelly and dirty.
Next to the underwear.

Becky Wells
 
And the stranger beamed, and he looked, it seemed,
Like he'd been born anew-
For perched on his pole was the lovely hole
Of the lady that's known as Lou.

Dangerous Dan McGrew
 
Sold Out

The yard sale was great.
Sold everything in my place.
Now to start over new.
Influencers tell me what to do.
Have a need for food, shelter, and clothes.
They say that's not the way to go.
Buy products online,
Thats cheap and refined.
Use a credit card,
Get whatever you want.
Paying the bill is just an affront,
Go to thrift stores for a better jump.
What you want and need,
May be different indeed.
I can't fry my eye lashes to eat,
Hair products can't keep me warm.
Tattoos won't make a room for you.
No place to keep all my stuff that was cheap,
Live in a car with no place to sleep!

Kim Stone
 
@david007 Übertreib doch nicht und warte mal das ein anderer was Schreibt.

 
Some things vanish.
Others become language.

A star dies in silence.
But the metaphor it leaves behind keeps speaking.

Some people burn loud and fast,
but leave nothing worth repeating.

Others live like quiet truths
and leave behind stories that stay.
 
Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night …

by William Blake
 
Die Ruh’ ist wohl das Beste,
Von allem Glück der Welt,
Mit jedem Wiegenfeste
Wird neue Lust vergällt,
Die Rose welkt in Schauern,
Die uns der Frühling giebt;
Wer haßt, ist zu bedauern,
Und mehr noch fast, wer liebt.

(Wilhelm Waiblinger 1804-1830)

 
Two men looked out from prison bars,
One saw the mud, the other saw stars.
 
My soul is a hollow lantern,
swinging in the wind of endings.
Its light has guttered,
the wick drowned in its own wax.

I feel the cold breath of the grave
curling into my lungs,
teaching me to exhale silence.


Beneath my ribs,
a black ocean rises,
and somewhere deep inside it
a single bell tolls,
calling my name
again and again
until the marrow answers.

Hollow Lantern
 
Fire and Ice

Fire and ice
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice, 5
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

Robert Frost
 

Memento

Cuando yo me muera
enterradme con mi guitarra
bajo la arena.

Cuando yo me muera,
entre los naranjos
y la hierbabuena.

Cuando yo me muera,
enterradme, si queréis,
en una veleta.

¡Cuando yo me muera!

Federico García Lorca
 
Solitude

Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,
In his own ground.
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.
Blest! who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,
Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mix'd; sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please,
With meditation.
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.

Alexander Pope
 
For whom the bell tolls

No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend’s were.
Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.
John Donne
 
Hope

Hope was but a timid friend-
She sat without my grated den
Watching how my fate would tend
Even as selfish-hearted men.
She was cruel in her fear.
Through the bars, one dreary day,
I looked out to see her there
And she turned her face away!
Like a false guard false watch keeping
Still in strife she whispered peace;
She would sing while I was weeping,
If I listened, she would cease.
False she was, and unrelenting.
When my last joys strewed the ground
Even sorrow saw repenting
Those sad relics scattered round;
Hope - whose whisper would have given
Balm to all that frenzied pain -
Stretched her wings and soared to heaven;
Went- and ne'er returned again!
Emily Jane Brontë
 
The Posion Tree

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears
Night and morning with my tears,
And I sunned it with smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright,
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine, –
And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning, glad, I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
William Blake
 
She Walks in Beauty

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Lord Byron
 

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