Man -- > Poem

[Man]

Poem



The Motorbike Rider by


The motorbike rider,
Excited and thrilled.
Adrenalin,
Pumping through his veins.

He gets on his bike,
Only fun in his eyes.
About to take off,
Another perfect start.

Racing through the forest,
Up and down hills.
Looking for more than just modest,
Everyday thrills.

With a crash and a bang,
He comes to the ground.
His friends think he’s insane,
But the rider feels no pain



-- -- --



~ By Is2tamara




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



What are Friends For?


Sometimes I think
where would I be without you,
which makes me think
about all we've been through.

You are my support,
my solid rock,
and if I died I'd send my soul
to forever by you walk.

I'd help you through your troubles,
as you have done with mine,
and if you ever need me
I'll be there, double time.

The memories we share together,
I hope for many more.
If you wanted the moon, I'd get it,
but hey, what are friends for?



-- -- --



~ By Trikstar89




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Attack in the Night


She attacked me during my sleep,
The ache I felt in my head
Was sharp, strong and painful,
Why did it happen while I was in bed?

I was dreaming of a beautiful place,
A world when I was on top,
That pain woke me from sleep,
She was relentless and did not stop.

She made my eyes water,
And I felt my nose run,
The pain I felt through my body,
Believe me it was no fun.

I got out of bed to make her stop,
She followed and made me sweat,
Relentless in her aim to floor me,
She posed a very big threat.

Victory was with her that day,
In a bed miserable and blue,
I know it may seem quite abusive,
But man, do I hate the Flu.



-- -- --



~ By Johnny_Damon




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



A Joey's Plea


Please don't wring my neck because a car hit my mum today
Best you don't let her suffer any more - OK?

But first pick me up carefully and tuck me into your shirt
I'm scared and I'm frightened and I really don't want to be hurt.

You know, there are kind people who devote their love and time
To look after orphans like me, so take care to see who you can find.

You could contact your local vet or just generally ask around.
It's not really that difficult before a wildlife carer can be found.

I have a really good chance at life even though I may be hairless and pink
With the correct care and attention I deserve a go - don't you think?

So please don't wring my neck just because someone shot mum today
Do find a wildlife carer who will look after me - OK?


-- -- --



~ By Noah91




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Christmas Time


Well here we are, December again
gifts to buy, and cards to send
decorate the house, put up the tree
all to see the children's glee

Christmas eve, kids are early to sleep
for us parents, around we creep
our duty is done, Santa has been
in the morning, the mess we'll clean

Its all worth it, their look of surprise
you see the happiness in their eyes
the day goes quick, as fast as it come
the kids are tired, its been so much fun

Now it's time for us to wind down
and wait for next year to come around.


-- -- --



~ By Ditti1




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Poet of Poetry


To be a good poet
You must have some skill
A good way with words
And with a pen or quill

Some paper to write on
And then you are set
To write what you feel
And feel how you get

Most forms of poems
Start with a rhyme
A series of words
All used in due time

Special techniques
Are used all around
To give it some depth,
Some mood and some sound

The mind of a poet
Is complex at best
The rhyming and wording
Can really cause stress

Though perseverance
Is the key
Let the rhymes flow
And set your mind free



-- -- --



~ By Tobias_227876




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Gift to Nature


Tendrils creep along my limbs
Drifting through my leaves.
Seeping deep into my being
The death of brother trees.

Smoke-filled haze surrounds me
As I sway in heated breeze
Knowing there is no escape
Within deep earth I'm seized.

Fire comes licking lazily
Towards my trunk to tease
Its flames flicker and mesmerize
A hypnotic dance it seems.

Pounding of the earth is felt
In pumping arms and knees
Man and tree stand in arms
And hose spouts instant ease.

Alone again the man moves on
Ash water fills my roots
Who would have thought
My saviour would be

Someone in orange boots.



-- -- --



~ By Midnightsun




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Odette


With the wind in the air,
And the rain coming in,
The cyclone big and strong,
And the warning looking dim,

Odette is getting closer,
So it's time to hunker down,
And get up so very high,
Where we are off the ground.

Will the water rise,
Or will it stay down low?
All we really know,
Is it's gonna be a big blow!

The time is getting nearer,
And it's cloudy overhead,
All I really have to say,
Is - bring it on, Odette!



-- -- --



~ By MJ19




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



My Online Friends


Smiles and friendship waiting there,
Fun and laughter, we can share,
Though we’ve never really met,
We share a faith, across the net.

God is not tied by time and space,
His Spirit dwells not in one place,
But He lives where His people are,
His family is spread afar.

His joy and fun they love to share,
Yet still have time to offer prayer,
Though sites and chat rooms can be bad,
True Christians use them for their “Dad”.

And those who cannot speak their pain,
Type silently, and comfort gain,
As brother, sister in the Lord,
Declare that His love, is assured.

We are not bound by looks nor skill,
Cannot spread germs, the times we’re ill;
For those who cannot go too far,
God brings His people where they are.

And when we type upon the net,
Reply to people we’ve not met,
If we will let His Spirit lead,
We’ll find we often meet a need.

So let the love of God shine through,
And honour Him in all you do,
And you will spread His gospel more,
Than all the saints who’ve gone before.

And I will offer up this prayer,
For all in ‘cyber-space’ out there,
“My God supply His grace divine,
To all my ‘fami



-- -- --



~ By Lionslamb




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Time Has Its Season



Alas, the sting of summer,
the sizzling ground beneath my feet,
the panting trees and embracing air,
the parched grass and the stalking heat.

Alas, the awe of autumn,
warm colours dancing upon the trees,
exquisite clouds painted in the sky,
and the sweet whisper of a gentle breeze.

Alas, the waking of winter,
the quiescent skies are stirred by fierce yawns,
droplets rush to meet the land, clothing the earth
as winters chill dismisses a sun who mourns.

Alas, the scent of spring,
as it dances to a cheerful song,
flowers stretching from a long slumber,
rejoice in golden glory, all day long.

Alas, time that changes seasons,
Carries in its hands, things to cherish.
It sings of love and joy, things we must embrace,
As one day, time itself will perish.




-- -- --



~ By BeatJul





--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Henry the Friendly Spider


Henry was a spider
I first saw him on the floor
He turned and sped to greet me
I ran screaming for the door

He then became my housemate
On the ceiling upside-down
I told no one to harm him
So he happily ran around

Then one night in the kitchen
There came a sudden crash
A war was on full-swing
Henry versus the cat

I was too late to save him
The cat struck one last hit
Henry the friendly spider
You will be dearly missed



-- -- --



~ By Pizzacat





--> Man

[Man]

Poem



My Garden Gone


My garden is gone there is no doubt,
a victim of the ravages of the cursed drought
The grass is dead, in fallen repose
Survived perhaps by the resilient rose.

The trees are bare, the twigs do snap
and there is an empty bowl beneath the tap
The ground is cracking, brittle and dry
and there’s not a cloud in the clear blue sky.

The smell of citrus has departed the air
and the dust has settled every where.
The sun sears down and dries one’s eyes
a constant companion, the heat and the flies

If a cloud appears it is gone in a day
Leaving no moisture for which we pray
The sky turns red as the sun starts its rest
But the heat lingers and makes us depressed

I yearn for the Autumn or is it the Fall
For long cool evenings and grass that is tall.
For the dew on the leaves and smells like spice
and the colourful hues that look ever so nice.

I want the greens and the reds to colour my day
and long days of rain to wash the dust away
For the soil to dampen and fill every crack
But most of all, I want my garden back.



-- -- --



~ By BEVO2





--> Man

[Man]

Poem



A Cracker of a Journey

The rent's paid up, soccer's on hold
A brand new journey is about to unfold
With no trepidation the car is packed
Many destinations already mapped

There'll be fun and laughter along the way
The only question asked, how long to stay?
Pretty women and good cheers
Hotel rooms and plenty of beers

Glistening ocean and white sand beaches
Cool rainforests with loads of leeches
Small town pubs and trendy bars
Amazing nights camping under the stars

Many a tale will be told
Ahhh what will this journey behold?
The time has come for you to be going
The moment here for me to search my knowing

But while you're gone - I'll ask you this.....
If you find a place that I'd like to see
Photograph it please and think of me.
Keep him safe, this friend of mine
How he makes many a heart shine

Driving off, he's over this place
Biggest smile on his handsome face
Adventures of God only knows?
The car is packed and off he goes.



-- -- --



~ By Lissy77





--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Snow beneath whose chilly softness


942

Snow beneath whose chilly softness
Some that never lay
Make their first Repose this Winter
I admonish Thee

Blanket Wealthier the Neighbor
We so new bestow
Than thine acclimated Creature
Wilt Thou, Austere Snow?







-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





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[Man]

Poem




Snow flakes


36

Snow flakes.

I counted till they danced so
Their slippers leaped the town,
And then I took a pencil
To note the rebels down.
And then they grew so jolly
I did resign the prig,
And ten of my once stately toes
Are marshalled for a jig!








-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





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[Man]

Poem




So bashful when I spied her!


91

So bashful when I spied her!
So pretty—so ashamed!
So hidden in her leaflets
Lest anybody find—

So breathless till I passed here—
So helpless when I turned
And bore her struggling, blushing,
Her simple haunts beyond!

For whom I robbed the Dingle—
For whom I betrayed the Dell—
Many, will doubtless ask me,
But I shall never tell!





-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





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[Man]

Poem




So from the mould


66

So from the mould
Scarlet and Gold
Many a Bulb will rise—
Hidden away, cunningly, From sagacious eyes.

So from Cocoon
Many a Worm
Leap so Highland gay,
Peasants like me,
Peasants like Thee
Gaze perplexedly!





-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





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[Man]

Poem




So glad we are—a Stranger'd deem


329

So glad we are—a Stranger'd deem
'Twas sorry, that we were—
For where the Holiday should be
There publishes a Tear—
Nor how Ourselves be justified—
Since Grief and Joy are done
So similar—An Optizan
Could not decide between—




-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem




So has a Daisy vanished


28

So has a Daisy vanished
From the fields today—
So tiptoed many a slipper
To Paradise away—

Oozed so in crimson bubbles
Day's departing tide—
Blooming—tripping—flowing
Are ye then with God?





-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem




So much Summer


651

So much Summer
Me for showing
Illegitimate—
Would a Smile's minute bestowing
Too exorbitant

To the Lady
With the Guinea
Look—if She should know
Crumb of Mine
A Robin's Larder
Would suffice to stow—






-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem




So proud she was to die


So proud she was to die
It made us all ashamed
That what we cherished, so unknown
To her desire seemed.

So satisfied to go
Where none of us should be,
Immediately, that anguish stooped
Almost to jealousy.





-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem




So set its Sun in Thee


808

So set its Sun in Thee
What Day be dark to me—
What Distance—far—
So I the Ships may see
That touch—how seldomly—
Thy Shore?



-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





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[Man]

Poem




So the Eyes accost—and sunder


752

So the Eyes accost—and sunder
In an Audience—
Stamped—occasionally—forever—
So may Countenance

Entertain—without addressing
Countenance of One
In a Neighboring Horizon—
Gone—as soon as known—




-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





So well that I can live without


456

So well that I can live without—
I love thee—then How well is that?
As well as Jesus?
Prove it me
That He—loved Men—
As I—love thee—







-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Soil of Flint, if steady tilled


681

Soil of Flint, if steady tilled—
Will refund by Hand—
Seed of Palm, by Libyan Sun
Fructified in Sand—








-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Some Keep the Sabbath Going to Church


Some keep the Sabbath going to Church --
I keep it, staying at Home --
With a Bobolink for a Chorister --
And an Orchard, for a Dome --

Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice --
I just wear my Wings --
And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,
Our little Sexton -- sings.

God preaches, a noted Clergyman --
And the sermon is never long,
So instead of getting to Heaven, at least --
I'm going, all along.








-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Some Rainbow—coming from the Fair!


64

Some Rainbow—coming from the Fair!
Some Vision of the World Cashmere—
I confidently see!
Or else a Peacock's purple Train
Feather by feather—on the plain
Fritters itself away!

The dreamy Butterflies bestir!
Lethargic pools resume the whir
Of last year's sundered tune!
From some old Fortress on the sun
Baronial Bees—march—one by one—
In murmuring platoon!

The Robins stand as thick today
As flakes of snow stood yesterday—
On fence—and Roof—and Twig!
The Orchis binds her feather on
For her old lover - Don the Sun!
Revisiting the Bog!

Without Commander! Countless! Still!
The Regiments of Wood and Hill
In bright detachment stand!
Behold! Whose Multitudes are these?
The children of whose turbaned seas—
Or what Circassian Land?





-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Some such Butterfly be seen


541

Some such Butterfly be seen
On Brazilian Pampas—
Just at noon—no later—Sweet—
Then—the License closes—

Some such Spice—express and pass—
Subject to Your Plucking—
As the Stars—You knew last Night—
Foreigners—This Morning—







-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Some things that fly there be


89

Some things that fly there be—
Birds—Hours—the Bumblebee—
Of these no Elegy.

Some things that stay there be—
Grief—Hills—Eternity—
Nor this behooveth me.

There are that resting, rise.
Can I expound the skies?
How still the Riddle lies!







-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Some—Work for Immortality


406

Some—Work for Immortality—
The Chiefer part, for Time—
He—Compensates—immediately—
The former—Checks—on Fame—

Slow Gold—but Everlasting—
The Bullion of Today—
Contrasted with the Currency
Of Immortality—

A Beggar—Here and There—
Is gifted to discern
Beyond the Broker's insight—
One's—Money—One's—the Mine—








-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Some, too fragile for winter winds


141

Some, too fragile for winter winds
The thoughtful grave encloses—
Tenderly tucking them in from frost
Before their feet are cold.

Never the treasures in her nest
The cautious grave exposes,
Building where schoolboy dare not look,
And sportsman is not bold.

This covert have all the children
Early aged, and often cold,
Sparrow, unnoticed by the Father—
Lambs for whom time had not a fold.









-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Some—Work for Immortality


406

Some—Work for Immortality—
The Chiefer part, for Time—
He—Compensates—immediately—
The former—Checks—on Fame—

Slow Gold—but Everlasting—
The Bullion of Today—
Contrasted with the Currency
Of Immortality—

A Beggar—Here and There—
Is gifted to discern
Beyond the Broker's insight—
One's—Money—One's—the Mine—











-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Soto! Explore thyself!


832

Soto! Explore thyself!
Therein thyself shalt find
The "Undiscovered Continent"—
No Settler had the Mind.








-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Soul, Wilt thou toss again?


139

Soul, Wilt thou toss again?
By just such a hazard
Hundreds have lost indeed—
But tens have won an all—

Angel's breathless ballot
Lingers to record thee—
Imps in eager Caucus
Raffle for my Soul!





-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





South Winds jostle them


86

South Winds jostle them—
Bumblebees come—
Hover—hesitate—
Drink, and are gone—

Butterflies pause
On their passage Cashmere—
I—softly plucking,
Present them here!






-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Sown in dishonor


62

"Sown in dishonor"!
Ah! Indeed!
May this "dishonor" be?
If I were half so fine myself
I'd notice nobody!

"Sown in corruption"!
Not so fast!
Apostle is askew!
Corinthians 1. 15. narrates
A Circumstance or two!






-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Speech—is a prank of Parliament—


"Speech"—is a prank of Parliament—
"Tears"—is a trick of the nerve—
But the Heart with the heaviest freight on—
Doesn't—always—move—





-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Split the Lark—and you'll find the Music


861

Split the Lark—and you'll find the Music—
Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled—
Scantilly dealt to the Summer Morning
Saved for your Ear when Lutes be old.

Loose the Flood—you shall find it patent—
Gush after Gush, reserved for you—
Scarlet Experiment! Sceptic Thomas!
Now, do you doubt that your Bird was true?






-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Spring is the Period


844

Spring is the Period
Express from God.
Among the other seasons
Himself abide,

But during March and April
None stir abroad
Without a cordial interview
With God.




-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Strong Draughts of Their Refreshing Minds


711

Strong Draughts of Their Refreshing Minds
To drink—enables Mine
Through Desert or the Wilderness
As bore it Sealed Wine—

To go elastic—Or as One
The Camel's trait—attained—
How powerful the Stimulus
Of an Hermetic Mind—





-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Struck, was I, not yet by Lightning


925

Struck, was I, not yet by Lightning—
Lightning—lets away
Power to perceive His Process
With Vitality.

Maimed—was I—yet not by Venture—
Stone of stolid Boy—
Nor a Sportsman's Peradventure—
Who mine Enemy?

Robbed—was I—intact to Bandit—
All my Mansion torn—
Sun—withdrawn to Recognition—
Furthest shining—done—

Yet was not the foe—of any—
Not the smallest Bird
In the nearest Orchard dwelling
Be of Me—afraid.

Most—I love the Cause that slew Me.
Often as I die
Its beloved Recognition
Holds a Sun on Me—

Best—at Setting—as is Nature's—
Neither witnessed Rise
Till the infinite Aurora
In the other's eyes.





-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem







Success is Counted Sweetest


Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple Host
Who took the Flag today
Can tell the definition
So clear of Victory

As he defeated--dying--
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear!








-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Such is the Force of Happiness


787

Such is the Force of Happiness—
The Least—can lift a Ton
Assisted by its stimulus—

Who Misery—sustain—
No Sinew can afford—
The Cargo of Themselves—
Too infinite for Consciousness'
Slow capabilities.







-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Summer for thee, grant I may be


31

Summer for thee, grant I may be
When Summer days are flown!
Thy music still, when Whipporwill
And Oriole—are done!

For thee to bloom, I'll skip the tomb
And row my blossoms o'er!
Pray gather me—
Anemone—
Thy flower—forevermore!





-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Summer Shower


A drop fell on the apple tree,
Another on the roof;
A half a dozen kissed the eaves,
And made the gables laugh.

A few went out to help the brook,
That went to help the sea.
Myself conjectured, Were they pearls,
What necklaces could be!

The dust replaced in hoisted roads,
The birds jocoser sung;
The sunshine threw his hat away,
The orchards spangles hung.

The breezes brought dejected lutes,
And bathed them in the glee;
The East put out a single flag,
And signed the fete away.



-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Sunset at Night—is natural


415

Sunset at Night—is natural—
But Sunset on the Dawn
Reverses Nature—Master—
So Midnight's—due—at Noon.

Eclipses be—predicted—
And Science bows them in—
But do one face us suddenly—
Jehovah's Watch—is wrong.





-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Superfluous were the Sun


999

Superfluous were the Sun
When Excellence be dead
He were superfluous every Day
For every Day be said

That syllable whose Faith
Just saves it from Despair
And whose "I'll meet You" hesitates
If Love inquire "Where"?

Upon His dateless Fame
Our Periods may lie
As Stars that drop anonymous
From an abundant sky.



-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Surgeons must be very careful


108

Surgeons must be very careful
When they take the knife!
Underneath their fine incisions
Stirs the Culprit—Life!






-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Suspense—is Hostiler than Death


705

Suspense—is Hostiler than Death—
Death—tho'soever Broad,
Is Just Death, and cannot increase—
Suspense—does not conclude—

But perishes—to live anew—
But just anew to die—
Annihilation—plated fresh
With Immortality—






-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Sweet Mountains—Ye tell Me no lie


722

Sweet Mountains—Ye tell Me no lie—
Never deny Me—Never fly—
Those same unvarying Eyes
Turn on Me—when I fail—or feign,
Or take the Royal names in vain—
Their far—slow—Violet Gaze—

My Strong Madonnas—Cherish still—
The Wayward Nun—beneath the Hill—
Whose service—is to You—
Her latest Worship—When the Day
Fades from the Firmament away—
To lift Her Brows on You—







-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Sweet—safe—Houses


457

Sweet—safe—Houses—
Glad—gay—Houses—
Sealed so stately tight—
Lids of Steel—on Lids of Marble—
Locking Bare feet out—

Brooks of Plush—in Banks of Satin
Not so softly fall
As the laughter—and the whisper—
From their People Pearl—

No Bald Death—affront their Parlors—
No Bold Sickness come
To deface their Stately Treasures—
Anguish—and the Tomb—

Hum by—in Muffled Coaches—
Lest they—wonder Why—
Any—for the Press of Smiling—
Interrupt—to die—







-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered


523

Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered
Every time—for Two—
So that the Sum be never hindered
Through Decay of You—

Say if I erred? Accuse my Farthings—
Blame the little Hand
Happy it be for You—a Beggar's—
Seeking More—to spend—

Just to be Rich—to waste my Guineas
On so Best a Heart—
Just to be Poor—for Barefoot Vision
You—Sweet—Shut me out—






-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Sweet, to have had them lost


901

Sweet, to have had them lost
For news that they be saved—
The nearer they departed Us
The nearer they, restored,

Shall stand to Our Right Hand—
Most precious and the Dead—
Next precious
Those that rose to go—
Then thought of Us, and stayed.






-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Sweet—safe—Houses


457

Sweet—safe—Houses—
Glad—gay—Houses—
Sealed so stately tight—
Lids of Steel—on Lids of Marble—
Locking Bare feet out—

Brooks of Plush—in Banks of Satin
Not so softly fall
As the laughter—and the whisper—
From their People Pearl—

No Bald Death—affront their Parlors—
No Bold Sickness come
To deface their Stately Treasures—
Anguish—and the Tomb—

Hum by—in Muffled Coaches—
Lest they—wonder Why—
Any—for the Press of Smiling—
Interrupt—to die—








-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered


523

Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered
Every time—for Two—
So that the Sum be never hindered
Through Decay of You—

Say if I erred? Accuse my Farthings—
Blame the little Hand
Happy it be for You—a Beggar's—
Seeking More—to spend—

Just to be Rich—to waste my Guineas
On so Best a Heart—
Just to be Poor—for Barefoot Vision
You—Sweet—Shut me out—










-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





T was just this time last year I died.


'T was just this time last year I died.
I know I heard the corn,
When I was carried by the farms,--
It had the tassels on.

I thought how yellow it would look
When Richard went to mill;
And then I wanted to get out,
But something held my will.

I thought just how red apples wedged
The stubble's joints between;
And carts went stooping round the fields
To take the pumpkins in.

I wondered which would miss me least,
And when Thanksgiving came,
If father'd multiply the plates
To make an even sum.

And if my stocking hung too high,
Would it blur the Christmas glee,
That not a Santa Claus could reach
The altitude of me?

But this sort grieved myself, and so
I thought how it would be
When just this time, some perfect year,
Themselves should come to me.





-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Take your Heaven further on


388

Take your Heaven further on—
This—to Heaven divine Has gone—
Had You earlier blundered in
Possibly, e'en You had seen
An Eternity—put on—
Now—to ring a Door beyond
Is the utmost of Your Hand—
To the Skies—apologize—
Nearer to Your Courtesies
Than this Sufferer polite—
Dressed to meet You—
See—in White!






-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Taking up the fair Ideal


428

Taking up the fair Ideal,
Just to cast her down
When a fracture—we discover—
Or a splintered Crown—
Makes the Heavens portable—
And the Gods—a lie—
Doubtless—"Adam"—scowled at Eden—
For his perjury!

Cherishing—our pool Ideal—
Till in purer dress—
We behold her—glorified—
Comforts—search—like this—
Till the broken creatures—
We adored—for whole—
Stains—all washed—
Transfigured—mended—
Meet us—with a smile—






-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Talk with prudence to a Beggar


119

Talk with prudence to a Beggar
Of "Potose," and the mines!
Reverently, to the Hungry
Of your viands, and your wines!

Cautious, hint to any Captive
You have passed enfranchised feet!
Anecdotes of air in Dungeons
Have sometimes proved deadly sweet!






-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Teach Him—When He makes the names


227

Teach Him—When He makes the names—
Such an one—to say—
On his babbling—Berry—lips—
As should sound—to me—
Were my Ear—as near his nest—
As my thought—today—
As should sound—
"Forbid us not"—
Some like "Emily."




-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Tell All The Truth


Tell all the truth but tell it slant,
Success in circuit lies,
Too bright for our infirm delight
The truth's superb surprise;

As lightning to the children eased
With explanation kind,
The truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind.







-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Tell all the Truth but tell it slant


1129

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant—
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise

As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind—





-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






That after Horror—that 'twas us


286

That after Horror—that 'twas us—
That passed the mouldering Pier—
Just as the Granite Crumb let go—
Our Savior, by a Hair—

A second more, had dropped too deep
For Fisherman to plumb—
The very profile of the Thought
Puts Recollection numb—

The possibility—to pass
Without a Moment's Bell—
Into Conjecture's presence—
Is like a Face of Steel—
That suddenly looks into ours
With a metallic grin—
The Cordiality of Death—
Who drills his Welcome in—






-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem







That Distance was between Us


863

That Distance was between Us
That is not of Mile or Main—
The Will it is that situates—
Equator—never can—





-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem



That first Day, when you praised Me, Sweet


659

That first Day, when you praised Me, Sweet,
And said that I was strong—
And could be mighty, if I liked—
That Day—the Days among—

Glows Central—like a Jewel
Between Diverging Golds—
The Minor One—that gleamed behind—
And Vaster—of the World's.









-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson





--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Goose Blind


Wild reeds woven to a small room,
dying tips brown-gold and whispering
in wind-rattle. Porter, whose farm is
bare, fields married to water, honks
as if the earth is talking, his old gun
hugged to him, his bone nose up
for two dipping fly-bys. They veer, but
glide around. "Mated pair," he says softly.

I think of us, forty years ago, side by side,
going south on 17, Dismal Swamp's
bogs all green lace because March is
done, April's warm inlet calls us,
because we lay on the sand, car radio
booming James Brown, joyful news.
At Nags Head Bridge we turned back,
just married, tiny boats half-sunk in marsh.

Shivering, wondering why I am here,
a guest among floaters above bottom's
empty shells that once were oysters, each
wet black eye that knows only rising,
falling with the sun's time, unafraid,
like you, saying let's go so far years
will drift, up roads like still bays,
roofs, wood lines where the horizon is.

Round and round the two fly, wanting
to eat, afternoon graying, wanting
to lie with the field's others, wanting
home's fixed, swaying silhouettes.
On sky's stair-steps, like guests, pairs
slip long V-lines, no reason. They just
just can't go on, Porter says, honking
urgent cries they seem not to want to hear.







-- -- --



~ By Dave Smith





--> Man

[Man]

Poem



All of You Must Know How Much I Love You

All of you must know how much I loved you.
Never did I stint on saying so.
In death you were the song that let me go
To sleep in beauty, dancing as I sang you.
And though I'm gone, don't think that I'll forget you.
Just think of me as waiting, even though,
Agnostic or believer, you may know
No certainty beyond what love can tell you.
Each of you still lives within my heart.
Though I am not, I am. So is the truth
Opposed to sense, more relevant than thought.
What is, is often what could never be.
Nor need you grieve, though we may seem apart.
Sing with me, as we look back with ruth,
Each the source of what sweet balm we sought,
No mother and children more in touch than we,
Deep within life's unsolved mystery.











-- -- --



~ By Dimitri Shostakovich





--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Coaches Must Be Mentors, Friends, and Goals

Coaches must be mentors, friends, and goals.
On them we place the chore of inspiration,
Altering ourselves in emulation,
Crowding with our dreams their undreamt souls.
How can they bear the burdens that we lay,
Except they know some coach along the way
Stood for them in just the same relation.









-- -- --



~ By Dimitri Shostakovich





--> Man

[Man]

Poem



So many of us have cycled through your body,
Each performing madly for our supper,
Vendors of our souls, that you might prosper,
Embracing you for love, but also money.
Nor could we see the price we paid for plenty,
The tides collecting all we had to offer,
Years of grace, of which we were the grantors,
Feeding as you fed upon our frenzy.
In good faith we took our sustenance,
Viscera pretending to be brain,
Even as you took from us our glory,
Yielding more than we will ever know.
Embodiment of some long-severed sense,
Agent of a will no will can tame,
Regent for some still-evolving fury,
Sail on, to where no one of us will go.








-- -- --



~ By Francois Couperin




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Jocelyn



Jocelyn is more than meets the eye.
On her, of course, all male eyes are glued.
Clarity and wit are on a mission,
Engaged to amplify her erudition,
Lest students wonder whether, what, or why.
Young enough to know how youth is wooed,
Nor strict nor lax, she sets her own sights high.









-- -- --



~ By Dimitri Shostakovich




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



On the Death of a Teacher



Now that you have entered the long silence,
Lying in state so long as I have life,
I lay my gratitude across your memory
Like flowers strewn across an open bier.
Not often does one soul ignite another
With such intensity as yours did mine.
I'm burning still with all your inner fire,
Humankind to your Promethean joy.

There is no gift so glowing I can give you,
Nor any way my love can reach your heart.
All I can do is pass your torch to someone
To whom the distant midnight mountains call.







-- -- --



~ By Dimitri Shostakovich




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Sister Margaret



Sister Margaret's been here many years
In service to the children and the Lord.
She is one lovely note within a chord
Too vast and beautiful for human ears.
Even those who've carved out bright careers
Remember long and fondly one who poured
More love into their hearts than they could hoard,
A river sweeping through their childhood tears;
Remember, too, the beauty of a life
Given as an act of charity,
All of it, not one desire held back.
Ruled by need, they pause in harmony,
Even in the midst of daily strife,
To see in her a passion that they lack.






-- -- --



~ By Dimitri Shostakovich




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Teachers Are the Sculptors of Young Lives



Teachers are the sculptors of young lives.
How fortunate our child was shaped by you!
A year in your class taught him how to study,
No longer lost in thoughts that he finds new,
Knowing now the paths each thought derives.
Your love and strong solicitude embody
Other virtues our child has tried on, too.
Under your good guidance hope survives.





-- -- --



~ By Domenico Scarlatti




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Teachers Dwell in Some Far-Distant Heaven



Teachers dwell in some far-distant heaven,
Even the most plain and down-to-earth.
All your expertise and dedication
Captures our naive imagination,
Heightening the aura of your worth.
Eventually, that youthful admiration
Returns as we embrace what you have given,
Serving as the seed of our rebirth.




-- -- --



~ By William Byrd.




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Teachers Flow like Mountain Streams



Teachers flow like mountain streams
High up through ice and snow,
And bring their learning down to earth
Not far from what we know.
Knowledge you have pure and cold,
Yet one thing, naturally,
Of all you know I value most:
Understanding me.




-- -- --



~ By Michael Praetorius




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Teachers Teach What They Will Never Know



Teachers teach what they will never know,
However thoroughly they may prepare.
After all the books and lesson plans,
No test can touch the things that make us care.
Knowledge is not the choicest seed they sow.
Your devotion is a pair of hands
Offering a sculpture fierce and rare,
Unveiling a place where I must go.



-- -- --



~ By Dimitri Shostakovich




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Thank You for Being Simply the Best



Thank you for being simply the best!
How you do it, we'll never know:
A passionate teacher, yet one of the guys;
Never the boss, yet controlling the flow;
Kind, free and caring; groovy and wise.
Your excellence spoils us for all of the rest.
On leaving your care, we must look back to grow.
Upon these bright memories, we lay our good-byes.




-- -- --



~ By Dimitri Shostakovich




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Thank You For Being Such a Good Friend



Thank you for being such a good friend.
How you put up with me I'll never know:
An awfully big heart and a fuse that is slow?
Nothing I broke was too shattered to mend.
Kids know good teachers by the stars in their eyes.
You had those stars by the dozens and more.
Open your heart and you open a door.
Under your love are my free, clear blue skies.




-- -- --



~ By William Byrd




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Thank You for Being Where All These Years Went



Thank you for being where all these years went.
Happiness comes from the people we are.
All we believe in and value is here,
Nearby our hearts with the door still ajar.
Knowledge is wealth that can never be spent.
Years from now, searching somewhere for a star,
Our skies full of diamonds, each in each blent,
Unknowing, in you we will find what is clear.





-- -- --



~ By William Byrd




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Thank You for Being Where All These Years Went



Thank you for opening a door for me,
Having the desire to share your joy.
A teacher gives much more than thought and skill,
Nor is her heart the least she might employ,
Knowing well the rules of ecstasy.
You are yourself the lesson we deploy,
Owning all the passion of your will,
Unraveling in ourselves your mystery.





-- -- --



~ By William Byrd




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Thank You for Your Good and Gentle Care



Thank you for your good and gentle care,
Having made your classroom bright with song,
Apparent in my child's frequent smiles,
Nestled in his thoughts of right and wrong.
Kids, like teachers, know when love is there.
You are the connoisseur of many styles,
Opening through days difficult and long
Understandings supple, sweet, and fair.



-- -- --



~ By William Byrd




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



The Coaches I Have Had Here Have Been Giants



The coaches I have had here have been giants,
Heads above the rest in mind and heart.
After all, their young and restless clients
Need still to find the grace to be a part.
Know that all we students share your dream,
Yet not always, yet, your wise persistence:
Offering the gift to be a team,
Undoing by success our staunch resistance.



-- -- --



~ By Marco Cara.




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



There Are No Words to Match My Gratitude



There are no words to match my gratitude,
However much like Shakespeare I might write.
Above all else, you've shaped my attitude,
Nurturing me with discipline and light.
Knowledge is the least of what you taught,
Yet that least at least prepared my head.
Out of your heart I've learned the things I ought,
Underscoring words you never said.





-- -- --



~ By George Friedrich Handel




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



To Give as You Have Given Takes a Love



To give as you have given takes a love
Hallowed by a special kind of grace.
After all, the lives we will embrace,
Now are shaped by those that our hearts move.
Kids need the kind of leader you have been.
Your efforts don't come close to the real sum:
On your life we build what we become,
Undertaking only what we've seen.




-- -- --



~ By Thomas Campion.




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



To Mrs. Quinn, Queen of Poetry



To Mrs. Quinn, the Queen of Poetry:
Having held for twenty years your teas
And given to us all the gift of beauty,
Now you may at last enjoy your ease,
Knowing all the pleasures of your duty.
You've walked among the loveliest of trees,
Out gathering the harvest, rich and fruity,
Undying words that feed the will to be.





-- -- --



~ By William Byrd.




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Tom Thumb Hockey Coaches Must Be Giants



Tom Thumb hockey coaches must be giants,
Heads above the rest in height and heart.
After all, your miniature clients
Need still to find the grace to be a part.
Know that all we parents share your dream,
Yet cannot share, alas!, your wise persistence:
Offering the gift to be a team,
Undoing by success their staunch resistance.



-- -- --



~ By Marco Cara.




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Twenty-Eight



Twenty-eight enjoys a busy morning
Working unabated in her garden.
Each tiny plant is years away from bloom,
Needing now the gift of ample room
To grow before the ground begins to harden.
Yet there is much to savor in this dawning.
Each year the winter whistles its chill warning,
Inviting her to lay aside her burden,
Glimpse unsought of universal doom.
Hard at work, she finds her inner guerdon
To be the shoot that rises from the tomb.





-- -- --



~ By Marco Cara.




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



You're the Person That I Most Admire


You're the person that I most admire,
The person that I most would like to be.
Your friendship, like a torch, has lit a fire
Deep within the cave where I am me.
Because of you, I want to be a teacher,
Touching someone's life as you've touched mine.
And when I'm you I'll know just how to reach her,
Giving her the faith that she can shine.
Though you now must leave, and we must part,
A little piece of you remains behind,
Held with gratitude within my heart,
A portrait of a lady good and kind.
You will be part of everything I do;
When I need strength, I'll look inside for you.






-- -- --



~ By Erik Satie




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



You've Been Everything to Me


You've been everything to me: a father,
Teacher, playmate, model, conscience, friend.
Sometimes I'm not certain why you bother,
If your feelings on my words depend.
I know I haven't been the child I should:
Far from it, and I really can't say why.
I know exactly what I'd label good,
But in the real world something goes awry.
Underneath my actions there is love,
Gratitude, respect, and admiration.
Sometimes I don't know what I'm thinking of,
But I thank God you're in for the duration.
I'm sorry, sorry for the things I do,
But please believe I cherish Mom and you.





-- -- --



~ Composer Unknown.




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



A Father and a Dad Are Not the Same


A father and a dad are not the same:
One can be a dad and not a father,
Or one can be a father and not bother
To earn through love the more endearing name.
Some find fatherhood a bit too tame,
Leaving all the details to the mother,
Or dumping the sweet burden on another
Man with just a passing twinge of shame.
You have been our dad so many years
That you've become the landscape that is home,
The mountain that we look to from afar.
No matter where we go we're not alone,
For you remain within to still our fears
And be the word that tells us who we are.





-- -- --



~ By Dimitri Shostakovich.




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




That I did always love


549

That I did always love
I bring thee Proof
That till I loved
I never lived—Enough—

That I shall love alway—
I argue thee
That love is life—
And life hath Immortality—

This—dost thou doubt—Sweet—
Then have I
Nothing to show
But Calvary—






-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




That is solemn we have ended


934

That is solemn we have ended
Be it but a Play
Or a Glee among the Garret
Or a Holiday

Or a leaving Home, or later,
Parting with a World
We have understood for better
Still to be explained.





-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Admirations—and Contempts—of time


906

The Admirations—and Contempts—of time—
Show justest—through an Open Tomb—
The Dying—as it were a Height
Reorganizes Estimate
And what We saw not
We distinguish clear—
And mostly—see not
What We saw before—

'Tis Compound Vision—
Light—enabling Light—
The Finite—furnished
With the Infinite—
Convex—and Concave Witness—
Back—toward Time—
And forward—
Toward the God of Him—





-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Angle of a Landscape


375

The Angle of a Landscape—
That every time I wake—
Between my Curtain and the Wall
Upon an ample Crack—

Like a Venetian—waiting—
Accosts my open eye—
Is just a Bough of Apples—
Held slanting, in the Sky—

The Pattern of a Chimney—
The Forehead of a Hill—
Sometimes—a Vane's Forefinger—
But that's—Occasional—

The Seasons—shift—my Picture—
Upon my Emerald Bough,
I wake—to find no—Emeralds—
Then—Diamonds—which the Snow

From Polar Caskets—fetched me—
The Chimney—and the Hill—
And just the Steeple's finger—
These—never stir at all—




-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Battle fought between the Soul


594

The Battle fought between the Soul
And No Man—is the One
Of all the Battles prevalent—
By far the Greater One—

No News of it is had abroad—
Its Bodiless Campaign
Establishes, and terminates—
Invisible—Unknown—

Nor History—record it—
As Legions of a Night
The Sunrise scatters—These endure—
Enact—and terminate—





-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Bee is not afraid of me


111

The Bee is not afraid of me.
I know the Butterfly.
The pretty people in the Woods
Receive me cordially—

The Brooks laugh louder when I come—
The Breezes madder play;
Wherefore mine eye thy silver mists,
Wherefore, Oh Summer's Day?






-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Beggar Lad—dies early


717

The Beggar Lad—dies early—
It's Somewhat in the Cold—
And Somewhat in the Trudging feet—
And haply, in the World—

The Cruel—smiling—bowing World—
That took its Cambric Way—
Nor heard the timid cry for "Bread"—
"Sweet Lady—Charity"—

Among Redeemed Children
If Trudging feet may stand
The Barefoot time forgotten—so—
The Sleet—the bitter Wind—

The Childish Hands that teased for Pence
Lifted adoring—them—
To Him whom never Ragged—Coat
Did supplicate in vain—





-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The Bible is an antique Volume


1545

The Bible is an antique Volume—
Written by faded men
At the suggestion of Holy Spectres—
Subjects—Bethlehem—
Eden—the ancient Homestead—
Satan—the Brigadier—
Judas—the Great Defaulter—
David—the Troubador—
Sin—a distinguished Precipice
Others must resist—
Boys that "believe" are very lonesome—
Other Boys are "lost"—
Had but the Tale a warbling Teller—
All the Boys would come—
Orpheus' Sermon captivated—
It did not condemn—





-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Bird must sing to earn the Crumb


880

The Bird must sing to earn the Crumb
What merit have the Tune
No Breakfast if it guaranty

The Rose content may bloom
To gain renown of Lady's Drawer
But if the Lady come
But once a Century, the Rose
Superfluous become—




-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Birds begun at Four o'clock


783

The Birds begun at Four o'clock—
Their period for Dawn—
A Music numerous as space—
But neighboring as Noon—

I could not count their Force—
Their Voices did expend
As Brook by Brook bestows itself
To multiply the Pond.

Their Witnesses were not—
Except occasional man—
In homely industry arrayed—
To overtake the Morn—

Nor was it for applause—
That I could ascertain—
But independent Ecstasy
Of Deity and Men—

By Six, the Flood had done—
No Tumult there had been
Of Dressing, or Departure—
And yet the Band was gone—

The Sun engrossed the East—
The Day controlled the World—
The Miracle that introduced
Forgotten, as fulfilled.







-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Birds reported from the South


743

The Birds reported from the South—
A News express to Me—
A spicy Charge, My little Posts—
But I am deaf—Today—

The Flowers—appealed—a timid Throng—
I reinforced the Door—
Go blossom for the Bees—I said—
And trouble Me—no More—

The Summer Grace, for Notice strove—
Remote—Her best Array—
The Heart—to stimulate the Eye
Refused too utterly—

At length, a Mourner, like Myself,
She drew away austere—
Her frosts to ponder—then it was
I recollected Her—

She suffered Me, for I had mourned—
I offered Her no word—
My Witness—was the Crape I bore—
Her—Witness—was Her Dead—

Thenceforward—We—together dwelt—
I never questioned Her—
Our Contract
A Wiser Sympathy





-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Black Berry—wears a Thorn in his side


The Black Berry—wears a Thorn in his side—
But no Man heard Him cry—
He offers His Berry, just the same
To Partridge—and to Boy—

He sometimes holds upon the Fence—
Or struggles to a Tree—
Or clasps a Rock, with both His Hands—
But not for Sympathy—

We—tell a Hurt—to cool it—
This Mourner—to the Sky
A little further reaches—instead—
Brave Black Berry—









-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Body grows without


578

The Body grows without—
The more convenient way—
That if the Spirit—like to hide
Its Temple stands, alway,

Ajar—secure—inviting—
It never did betray
The Soul that asked its shelter
In solemn honesty





-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Brain—is wider than the Sky


632

The Brain—is wider than the Sky—
For—put them side by side—
The one the other will contain
With ease—and You—beside—

The Brain is deeper than the sea—
For—hold them—Blue to Blue—
The one the other will absorb—
As Sponges—Buckets—do—

The Brain is just the weight of God—
For—Heft them—Pound for Pound—
And they will differ—if they do—
As Syllable from Sound—





-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Brain, within its Groove


556

The Brain, within its Groove
Runs evenly—and true—
But let a Splinter swerve—
'Twere easier for You—

To put a Current back—
When Floods have slit the Hills—
And scooped a Turnpike for Themselves—
And trodden out the Mills—







-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The braind within its groove


The brain within its groove
Runs evenly and true;
But let a splinter swerve,
'T were easier for you
To put the water back
When floods have slit the hills,
And scooped a turnpike for themselves,
And blotted out the mills!







-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The bustle in a house


The bustle in a house
The morning after death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon earth,--

The sweeping up the heart,
And putting love away
We shall not want to use again
Until eternity.




-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Chemical conviction


954

The Chemical conviction
That Nought be lost
Enable in Disaster
My fractured Trust—

The Faces of the Atoms
If I shall see
How more the Finished Creatures
Departed me!




-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Child's faith is new


637

The Child's faith is new—
Whole—like His Principle—
Wide—like the Sunrise
On fresh Eyes—
Never had a Doubt—
Laughs—at a Scruple—
Believes all sham
But Paradise—

Credits the World—
Deems His Dominion
Broadest of Sovereignties—
And Caesar—mean—
In the Comparison—
Baseless Emperor—
Ruler of Nought—
Yet swaying all—

Grown bye and bye
To hold mistaken
His pretty estimates
Of Prickly Things
He gains the skill
Sorrowful—as certain—
Men—to anticipate
Instead of Kings—





-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Colour of a Queen, is this


776

The Color of a Queen, is this—
The Color of a Sun
At setting—this and Amber—
Beryl—and this, at Noon—

And when at night—Auroran widths
Fling suddenly on men—
'Tis this—and Witchcraft—nature keeps
A Rank—for Iodine—






-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Colour of the Grave is Green


411

The Colour of the Grave is Green—
The Outer Grave—I mean—
You would not know it from the Field—
Except it own a Stone—

To help the fond—to find it—
Too infinite asleep
To stop and tell them where it is—
But just a Daisy—deep—

The Color of the Grave is white—
The outer Grave—I mean—
You would not know it from the Drifts—
In Winter—till the Sun—

Has furrowed out the Aisles—
Then—higher than the Land
The little Dwelling Houses rise
Where each—has left a friend—

The Color of the Grave within—
The Duplicate—I mean—
Not all the Snows could make it white—
Not all the Summers—Green—

You've seen the Color—maybe—
Upon a Bonnet bound—
When that you met it with before—
The Ferret—cannot find—








-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Court is far away


235

The Court is far away—
No Umpire—have I—
My Sovereign is offended—
To gain his grace—I'd die!

I'll seek his royal feet—
I'll say—Remember—King—
Thou shalt—thyself—one day—a Child—
Implore a larger—thing—

That Empire—is of Czars—
As small—they say—as I—
Grant me—that day—the royalty—
To intercede—for Thee—







-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The cricket sang,


The cricket sang,
And set the sun,
And workmen finished, one by one,
Their seam the day upon.

The low grass loaded with the dew,
The twilight stood as strangers do
With hat in hand, polite and new,
To stay as if, or go.

A vastness, as a neighbor, came,--
A wisdom without face or name,
A peace, as hemispheres at home,--
And so the night became.







-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



The American Dream


America America
The land of the brave
I love you so dearly
But they treat you so bad
The politicians and business men
Treat you like mad

What we once loved is suddenly fading
Our dreams won't come true
Our lives broken for you

We need to preserve the great nation
And turn it from bad
For you are our hope
And everything for we stand






-- -- --



~ By Gary R. Hess




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Fight


Serious anxiety flowing
Crashing through my mind
Blood rushing through my veins
Muscles tightening upon compression

The moment is soon to come
Where losers will not win
The masks come off from posers
And winners show their skills

The death of one has come quickly
Another soon to fall
The abilities matched between us
Strength, quickness, stamina
Just the same

I choose the weapon I know best
To fight off the evil souls
Outnumbering my foolish hatred
They strike quickly

This moment of oppression
Only seen by some
It’s the time to attack
My weapon swung but too soon

They move quickly to retaliate
My arm struck, bleeding
My opponent strong but still foolish
I use my mind to strike back
Weakening their hope to win

Seeing the passion within my eyes
They settle into fear
Victory will soon come
Victory will soon come





-- -- --



~ By Gary R. Hess




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



America the Greedy


Hundreds of dollars spent on time
Money wasted for every being
Getting hurt every moment
Losing faith this very second

What is there to do in this life?
Knowing I won't have what I need
Not the house or secure job
Not the right life to live

America the great
Or injustice
That's the way it is
In this great nation

The poor can't succeed
The poor can't live
The poor can't live love
America is misery







-- -- --



~ By Gary R. Hess




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Our Duty


What kind of world is it today
When love for our country
Is tearing us apart
When love for our country
Is taking our freedoms
When love for our country
Is killing our children

So much wrong with the world today
So much can be done
The states need to help those in need
And stop hurting the ones who bleed

Differences between our nations
Are not as great as it seems
We are all hungry
And need to breathe

Countries with growing poverty and hunger
Need our help more than ever
Spend money not on oil
Not on weapons to kill
Spend the money on food
Spend the money to cure cancer
Spend the money to cure aids

We can do this
All we need is to help
Cure the hatred
Instead of pleasing our greed








-- -- --



~ By Gary R. Hess




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Confused


What is this feeling I have?
I seem to love you
But other times I seem to loathe you

I can't be without you
Or maybe just without anyone
I think about you all the time
But why do I have this feeling?

I long for your voice
And I would die to hear your laugh
But is this love
Or merely lust?






-- -- --



~ By Gary R. Hess




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Disappearing Love


What happened to our love?
It used to be so bright
Loving, laughing, caring
Then soon caught the night

You were my one and only love
Cared for you too much

Then something happened
And slept with that man
You deceived me
I never felt so desperate

But I try to forgive you now
And try not to think about before
I love you so much
It just hurts to ponder now

Everything I have
Is because of you
Everything I bought
Was because of you

I just love you so much
I'm scared to lose you




-- -- --



~ By Gary R. Hess




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Goodbye


I don't really want to say goodbye
I don't really want to leave you
But now I have to go away
Stay away from you forever

What we had was something special
Deep down from our hearts
But now I have to go away
And leave you from my heart




-- -- --



~ By Gary R. Hess




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



The Healing Heart


Shattered heart forced to heal
as greatness unveils thine soul.
Hope whispered in the distance,
to recover thine lost love.

'Tis night brings tender passing,
healing thine soul with glorious blunder.
Caus' not one or two,
but dissipated nights of dreams.

Sadness comes to end,
happiness conquered hate.
Love sprouting -- sadness shrinking,
hope has come again.





-- -- --



~ By Gary R. Hess




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



I Thought


I thought I finally received a break
Only to see the sun fall

My eyes will not see what they longed to see
My lips will not taste what they longed to taste

Why does life have to be like this
Full of hatred and pain
Instead of joy and bliss





-- -- --



~ By Gary R. Hess




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Lost Love



I loved you more than I have ever known
Those starry eyes
Those tender lips
You made my heart melt
Then boil into a roaring fire
I now know
What my eyes could not see
You are the only one that is for me
Many nights those tears flew
Being myself without anyone
Anyone to care about the thoughts
Looking at the sky and knowing
Many mistakes I had
Many mistakes I have had





-- -- --



~ By Gary R. Hess




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Love ?



When love has come
But soon is gone
It begs the question
Was it there

The love was lost
And never found
Lost without you
Lost without me
Lost into eternity

The love was just a figment
A figment of our minds
Something we could ponder
But never express

Was it love or just a feeling
Was it love or just healing

Healing from the hatred
The hatred of our hearts
Our past was deep and full of pain
We needed this to release the stain

For this I do not regret
The time with you that I had spent




-- -- --



~ By Gary R. Hess




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Night



The night we met I felt so good
The stars fell from heaven
The moon shined so bright
I never thought it could

But then the owls hooted
The coyotes barked
I wished it was day
My mind was polluted

The rain came pouring
The moon eclipsed
The night was blackened
By this single doing

I felt lost
I felt scared
But then morning came
And it was all just a dream




-- -- --



~ By Gary R. Hess




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Time Lost



Wasting a lifetime
Trying to find love
Nothing happens
No hope, no girl

Suddenly see her
But ten years before
Can't do anything
Used to be friends, nothing more

Now realized affection
Can go no further
Lost a lifetime
And lost desire

Try to forget
But can't
Try to die
But don't

Mind suddenly gone
No end is near
Nothing to do now
But go on



-- -- --



~ By Gary R. Hess




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



The Wait


Time Clicks as I await
The hour ends before my take
Sitting, thinking, waiting; my mind escapes

The day grows old as night passes
Wolves crying, coyotes howling; anticipating
Watching, staring, seeing -- nothing

Silence begins the day
as morning comes without notice
Tears begin to fall, slowly

The day moves on without hope
Wishing to be what is not to be

The sun moves to its peak
without a whisper or retreat

Time moving, but still empty
Stomach aching, curling
Still waiting



-- -- --



~ By Gary R. Hess




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Was


I hate the way you treated me
I hate what you did to me

When you laughed at what I asked
When you weren't there when I passed

I loved you more than anything
I loved that you thought the same thing

You made me feel like I was in heaven
You now have me seeking a safe haven




-- -- --



~ By Gary R. Hess




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Hate me today Hate me tomorrow

love baby heart sweet midnight hours


Fly be midnight hours I'm rejuvenated in sorrow

I'm looking at the other side if I could see tomorrow

I got scars on my haead and bruises in my heart

I want to confess my loneliness but tell me how to start

I know I didn't call you when you had your nightmares

Yes I didn't say good things when you highlighted your hairs

I hate to go to shopping coz you take so long to choose

I know you wanted to buy a dress but I wanted to buy shoes

So hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you

Yes I gave away the book you gifted on our first date

I admit I'm wrong, no wonder still how worse can it get

I never listen to you no matter how hard you scream

I'm only interested if you do not eat anymore icecreams

I get really drunk sometimes and feel breezy on my feet

And if I'm on my own it makes me crawl in an empty street

I know you don't sleep at night but you don't pick up my calls

I always say sorry but I feel like I'm talking to some deaf walls

So hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you

Hate me in ways
In ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you


There were times when I thought that you are better off me alone

But just a single Hi from you and I feel like I'm reborn

I go naughty once a while and like to pull your both legs

It's hard to decide what's great, kissing your lips or your neck!

No, I 'ven't joined a gym as you told me but I'm contemplating something

You are not innocent yourself too, tell me what happened to swimming?

More over i was dead angry last night you switched off your cell

I wanted to give a goodnight kiss, but baby what the hell !!


So hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you

Hate me in ways
In ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you


There are moments I've made you cry

Though I swear I don't like tears in your eyes

Will you forgive me if I say I forgot your birthday ?

Yes, You're right, I'm stupid and I'll be like this always

I'm just a messed up little boy caught in the rain

Just an embrace honey and there'll be no more pain

So hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you

So hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~

*** Just a few afterwords. I've never written anything true than this. And for my sweet babes, no words could be enough. Now, it is based on, and you could say, inspired by a Blue October song HATE ME. The first few verses of the song are as pasted below. ***

I have to block out thoughts of you so I don't lose my head
They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed
Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I'm alone
Playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home
There's a burning in my pride, a nervous bleeding in my brain
An ounce of peace is all I want for you. Will you never call again?
And will you never say that you love me just to put it in my face?
And will you never try to reach me? It is I that wanted space

Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you

Hate me in ways
Yeah ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you

....... lyrics by Blue October





-- -- --



~ By blood_lime




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Nine Lives

amnesia


I don't remember how I started

I was busy holding my shaking hands

Two dose of amnesia

And my generous pathogenice strands

Darker than you ever believe

A vision to turn the world

Vague but much adequate

With a shadow ten feet tall

Children of misfortune

With sighs and mortified wisdom

Nine lives to learn the fall

Nine deaths to sense the fatutiy of freedom

I started a story to spell my end

Written on the hall of forever doomed

Could've changed my fate if you ask

But yet too foolish yet to assume

There goes another broken song driven by my faith

Another deep growl mystified carrying the mighty weight

Hallucination in the aftermath of another fake attack

Caffeinated, distorted sleeping eyes never to awake

Heart is a stupid place

Hurt is a wise word to lean on

We play the game of quick expectations

While the day comes when the light is gone

Hungry is a soul that relies on sad tricks

Devour lies as we walk soothing to know we live no more

Crossing a distance that grows on

Between your head and my tried and failed folklore

Giving in is a fatal addiction, I'm drugged in my own disease

Sadness is a cure for the veiled emotions if you know how to release

I hope I didn't say too many words to take away the shame

If I woke up in a silent room with no doors do I know who to blame?









-- -- --



~ By blood_lime




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



My Silent Friends



I have many friends close and dear

They do smile and talk that you cannot hear



I have my walk in the nearby park

When the day peeps out of the dark

On the way, I see the coconut vender

Who only sells those green and tender



Then there are many trees big and small

As I walk under leaves do fall

Hello, I say, in reply the trees do talk

That you cannot hear even if you hark



I find many walkers on the oval trail

Who are brisk or slow as their ages tell

Some are fat and some are thin

The fats walk to lose the thin want to gain



Along the track, my friends plant and bush

Some have flowers that smile and blush

Some more friends, parrots and doves

Those hop and pop over the boughs



Some monkeys and dogs do pass by

Must beware if some snacks you buy

These are my friends close and dear

Who do smile and talk that you cannot hear









-- -- --



~ By Narayan MKV




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



A Perfect Woman.


heart and soul new woman A Couple.


It was last night that we were friends

Lovers, Partners and all things else

Today is the beginning to the end

Now we will remain at our own ends



Destined together we were till the end

Wonder what really happened to us then?

Last night you told me there was someone else

How can I tolerate this among all else?



You said I was not woman enough for you

Cause I talked too much and was egotistic too

Soft and warm I wasn’t to you

In addition to that always nagging you



You said I should be polite and adjust to you

Be supportive, not draw comparisons with others of you

I should listen without a debate to you

Remain calm, totally trusting you



I don’t fit into your idea of a woman

For I flare at the slightest provocation

Arguments are an integral part with me

As you said I talk nonsense incessantly



A man you said- there might be out there for me

But you certainly are not meant for me

I could settle for any or all of them I want

Because you had found the woman you really want



I know what you said of me is not true

Jealousy made me a new woman to you

Cause I knew well you had another woman too

How I wished this wasn’t really true



Why didn’t you leave me only a clue?

Justification I didn’t need, of your new woman I knew

Killing my spirit - heart and soul was so brutally crude

Can I ever rise over this character assassination so rude?



Love is acceptance of the others weaknesses too

Strengths one can accept without loving too

You said I am not the perfect woman for you

A Perfect Woman accepts flaws, yet loves her man true





-- -- --



~ By Shuvashree




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



ON THE REBOUND

illusion finding love heart

I thought I was in love with you,

But maybe I was wrong.

It was an illusion I was chasing,

A phantom called love it was.



The closer I came to finding love,

It deluded me some more,

Though it was you I chased,

Love is what I truly looked for.



I came across you right then,

When my heart was so sore.

All I really wanted from you,

Was to just love me once more.



It did not really matter to me,

Who or what you truly were.

All I ever wanted then, was

For you to love me for sure.



Lost and lonely after love, I was

When I found you at the fore.
I just fell in love with you,when-

It was love I really looked for



This space I created in my heart,

Falling in love for the first time.

With love I need to keep it filled,

Or pain, I'm afraid will fill it up.



I know I’m going to hurt again,

When soon this illusion goes.

Can I not keep away the void somehow?

Having fallen in love on the rebound.






-- -- --



~ By Shuvashree




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



THE FLOWING RIVER


A thought on Love watching the moon those memories happy days townships pubs


It’s been so long since we have met,

Cause we now reside at different ends.

I had thought that you were in the past,

Suddenly I see you, in front of me pass.



Walking together hand in hand.

We once lived life to the full extent,

Parties, games and films we seldom missed,

Though often together, from work we slipped.



Where are they gone, those happy days now?

When together we moved around town,

Those roads and alleys remind me of you,

Where lazily we drove around at noon.



At restaurants and pubs I see you too,

Where often we sat watching the moon.

Seeing the love for me in your eyes,

Always gave me the longest, biggest high.



Though now I love someone else,

How can I forget what we once shared?

Going to the town where we once lived,

Again those memories of us I relive.



Love is like a river that calmly flows,

Creating townships of memories along its course.

As the river moves to a new settlement to build,

The township remains remembering the river still.








-- -- --



~ By Shuvashree




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



CONFUSION SUFFERS DELETION BY DEVOTION




Keep hope always new and fresh

Get not trapped in worry-mesh

Measure not life in terms of cash

Mind can become a treasure or trash



If without aim mind is empty

What is the use of securing liberty?

The Almighty loves his true devotee

Only when he performs sincerely his duty



Whatever ambition one may seek

Simultaneously troubles will sneak

One must not become meek or weak

Confidence must not at all leak



When life-road is rough and tough

Colossal determination provides the stuff

Attack problems until they cry “enough”

Arrest evading success putting hope-cuff



In someway everyone is a sleuth

With a path that is not smooth

But day to day injuries prayers soothe

And dwarf problems that are mammoth



Grab shrewdly every golden opportunity

From defeat none gets immunity

Bitter experience shapes the personality

Bestowing lasting benefits via serendipity



Show to all undiminishing care

Exactly like the unseen air

From the Sky learn “how to share”

Torn mind, learn “how to repair”



All live with kith and kin

During living all commit sin

Who accounts for sin is a question

This only makes God-faith begin





-- -- --



~ By M.V.VENKATARAMAN




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



THUNDER WILL SURRENDER GIVING WONDER IF LOVE WE RENDER


Love need not be just only in tales
It must occur between males and females
With love, mountainous life, heart scales
Without females are crippled males

Love does not need foresight
Love need not come through eye-sight
Heart is its construction -site
It will excite bringing divinely delight

On monetary theory if love is based
Love feelings can better be erased
Then "Love is blind" is rightly phrased
Heart can be chased, but not purchased

Love out of mere eye-contact
May not end in life-contract
Involved hearts must fastly react
Even reference must create a great impact

Hearts that are in love's grip
Wiil make to Heaven pleasure trip
In happiness-river take a dip
Lips will supply love essence to sip

Developing attitude love promotes
Eyes express, hearts take quick notes
Lovers' words become quotable quotes
Thoughts float on clouds like boats

Unintentional acts will injure
If beauty or riches lure
That love will be a failure
As such love is purely impure

Love changes body-chemistry
How it does is a real mystery!
Love's aftereffects are numbering three
Vanish hurry, worry, and mind becomes free

Very happily every second will pass
Unseen moments will be considered a loss
Will go unnoticed all visible flaws
Hearts will start studying love-laws

To all love never occurs
Not occurring is a kind of curse
Love can be compared to flowers
God will save the true lovers

Combining two souls is purely God's decision
He always does it with precision
Every love-affair needs God's permission
Succeed in love-mission with God's supervision.




-- -- --



~ By M.V.VENKATARAMAN




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



LEAD, PROCEED, SOW HOPE SEED, AND SUCCEED



Follow the chosen path rigidly
Progess will arrive rapidly
Come not to conclusions hurriedly
Get not attached to anything morbidly

A scheme may be a flop
Do not all of a sudden drop
Remember how grows a crop
From goal to goal, do not hop

Basically start any venture enthusiastically
Great efforts change the World dramatically
Any scheme must be looked at critically
It must work out theoretically and practically

When defeat adds the last straw
From the goal do not at all withdraw
Try to locate where lies the flaw
Brain-sword is there to draw

Give up not but persist
To sanction success to God insist
Have faith in brain not in fist
Get the name included in winners' list

Thousand failures may suddenly crowd
Still mind must not be cowed
Slightest fear must not be allowed
Using prayer life must be towed

Fate's impassable gate please penetrate
Efforts needed are indeed great
For every success hard-work is the rate
With deep God-faith heart must vibrate

Clean the heart of impurity
Empty the mind of vanity
Fill them with Divinity
God will give life security

The power of mind is immense
Uncontrolled mind is ruled by demons
If level of mind-training is intense
Peace can be obtained without any expense

Achieve before the time allotted
Fulfil what mind has plotted
By death when life is spotted
Our achevements must be deep-rooted

Being to being vast variance
Being to being strange alliance
If on God is placed reliance
Personality will glow with radiance

In her fold, all, Time includes
At the right time, departure excludes
Escape from Time's control, God precludes
May be "Time is God", mind concludes.



-- -- --



~ By M.V.VENKATARAMAN




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



PRAYER HAS MASTERY OVER MYSTERY


Prayer is the first requirement
It helps soul after body's retirement
It gives in man's favour an endorsement
After life it is the only accompaniment

It can be in any language
Can be chanted irrespective of age
Follow any kind of prayer in usage
Every one is a sage after a stage

Some may say not to imagine
But is needed fuel for heart-engine
When punishment is given for sin,
Will not share it our kith and kin

"Justice is God" is an apt definition
For prayer there will be recognition
For mind prayer gives the best nutrition
Evils suffer an automatic demolition

After every prayer-receipt
God gives a heart-visit
It must not bring conceit
Conceit means God will not repeat

Justice is God's trade
Universe is God-made
If truth is strictly obeyed
God sanctions the best grade

Whether an ant or a whale
Movement is made by soul
Soul escapes by which hole?
After death what is soul's role?

Stealing soul from the body casket
Is a very well-guarded Divine secret
Despite exploration using sophisticated Rocket
Happenings are unknown after kicking the bucket

Birth and death none can prognosticate
To investigate means to complicate
Through prayer with God communicate
Offering prayer is not at all intricate

Just like man creating a computer
Universe is made by the creator
God is the operator cum administrator
Time is the age-calculator cum meter.



-- -- --



~ By M.V.VENKATARAMAN




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Loneliness...........




Don’t be afraid
Don’t be scared
Just reach out for my hand
I will be there anytime .
I will catch you when you fall
Tell me what you need
Tell me what is it you desire
Tell me how to make you a happy
I want to admire your beauty all my life
I want to be lost in your love

His kind and beautiful words paint me
A picture.. I would never seen before
A necklace made of stars
A beautiful valley of flowers
What does it mean to
Have some one in life ?
What it means to never loose them
Why is my heart tingled by a strange emotion?
Why does he rake up?
Those feelings in me
The silence is filled with melody
The clamor is seeped in silence
Why does my heart feel HE is the man
I want to spend rest of my life like
An unbreakable cord,
A living growing bond
Always together, true lovers forever
I am waiting patiently
The days are passing
But he doesn't come

Was it a game he played with me
Or with all women?
I still cannot believe it
The shadow of relationship scattered
My own trust laughs at me….
Loneliness stings me to break this bond!!!! .



-- -- --



~ By Womanslove




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Lost Horizons…


counterfeit coin endless time grave yard heavy loads Love.




Born somewhere, die somewhere, live somewhere…
Days and nights pass by carrying heavy
Loads of life’s miseries, on the shoulders,
Limping, and staggering, like a lame duck,
We are scapegoats of our destiny.

Where did this journey commence?
From a point in eternity, or endless time?
Where do we get a rest in this illimitable journey?
Our desires cease to exist with the last breath.
All human relations terminate at the grave yard.
Who placed a counterfeit coin in the purse of the heart?
Called dreams, besmirched with distress.

Friends who shun you; or the society
Longing to cast stones at you?
Those flowers, withered and diffused in the earth,
As dead ones, whose treads they have imprinted
In this soil, will certainly return one day,
After having changed their soiled attire,
From their chambers, in Hades.
Like the sun returns to the sky, after the eclipse.




-- -- --



~ By Kunjubi




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Missing and Waiting

mystery ride song of my life pleasure and pain heart pain



Missing someone is a pleasure and pain
Encompassing you in a mystery ride itself
Feelings enchant me thinking of him
Would he be missing me as much as me?

The breeze gently tickles my heart
Reminding me the way it ruffled his hair
Would that passing breeze remind him of me
The way my hair used to tickle his face?

The blooming flowers remind me of his smile
Showering the fragrance of love all unbind
Would he glance at a flower for a while
Trying to find my face hidden in petals behind?

Spending sleepless nights engrossed in his thoughts
Looking at sky sparkled with stars
Would he be thinking of me while watching the stars
Thinking of dreams we had woven at that hour

He is in every poem or song of my life
His laughter is the music which keeps me senile
Would he be dreaming of the time we would meet?
And singing the song of love we cherish?

So many thoughts and so many doubts
But one thought comes back without doubt
HE LOVES ME WITH ALL HIS HEART
Pain of missing flowing through my eyes
Pleasure of waiting converting them to smile




-- -- --



~ By Ehsaas




--> Man

[Man]

Poem



Escapade?

dreary night evening glow rancour love enjoyable life crescent moon



Memories throng, like the incessant patter,
Of a rainy night.
Like showers of nectar on to the hull of the soul.
The fading mist; diluted evening glow
Entering, into the gloom of a dreary night.
The dismal wailing of a forlorn bird, in the distance.
All sneaking at the door of my earthen hut,
And getting away, never even uttering
A word of consolation, to me...

Why did you re-emerge, in my dear flute
As a sonata of an amiable daze,
Resonating in my forlorn psyche?
Like the crescent moon, having lost its way
Among the darkened clouds,
You came to me, in compliant diffidence
Shrouded in a veil, in accord, with my
Mute and imposing imagination.

We built our castles with glass and cardboards,
On a shore of the sea, of idle tears.
We coveted to live eternally, beyond time and tides.
Through millenniums; you and me, alone.

My existent being is worthless, except that
I can merely felicitate you, for an enjoyable life;
Sans reminiscence, sans lost aspirations, and yearnings,
Sans rancour, and frustrations.

Enveloped in rapture, I will put a lid,
On top, of all my longings, hitherto cherished.
How many more births and seasons
I will have to greet, in my life?
How far my birth will extend to own you?
I don’t know…




-- -- --



~ By Kunjubi




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




Passions.

sudden seizure fire and flame love disastrous consequences sacrificial ritual




Passion in the mind felt for one’s mate
Abruptly changes to hatred, in the mind,
With disastrous consequences!
It is like the sudden seizure of oxygen in
The air we breathe, convert the world
In the chasm, of a stand still, eternally.
Not wishing for flowers to bloom to morrow
Is factually committing suicide or homicide;
Closing the house of maternal labor,
Inducting, the finale of the human race.

They are not inclined to bear each other
Through the matrimonial link, which now
Bind them, and declare husband and wife,
Till the gates, of the cemetery.
Their wombs refuse to bear a child;
Disinterested and immune to love,
Passion, or lust, not even goodwill.

Such feelings perpetrate, to create a pyre,
To burn and annihilate the mankind;
They are not prepared to make a fire by attrition
In a sacrificial ritual and kindle it,
And sustain it without extinction,
To give out the warmth, for nurturing the posterity.

Those who safeguard that fire and flame
Turns passion, into honoured love.
They are the ones, who build the house
Of humans; for generations, yet to originate,
To live in comfort, in years to come...
How amazing is that, the last hook
In the link of passions, is bonded to love,
In the human mind, and soul;
And in its wake, a bi-product emerges - LUST!


-- -- --



~ By Kunjubi




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




Enlightenment…



History was written topsy- turvy.
Myths adapted as corner stones
On the edifice of faith.
Religion fostered myths as scriptures.
Rationale is hired by religions and churches.
God is created in their fancy, and fantasies.
Intellect of humans, are governed by legislation.
Imagination imprisoned by imbeciles.
Power politics sway at the controls.
Human rights are stampeded by cattle,
In the guise, of jurists.
Freedom of thinking is in shackles.
God men/women are amassing and hoarding
Wealth, directing and producing blue films;
Dealing in arms and narcotics,
Exploiting the faithful, through magic,
Miracle healing touch and prayers.

Multitudes are under sedation of scriptures,
Translated, according to their whims.
Religion has truly become, the ‘opium of the people’.
And turned them into puppets; strings in the hands
Of marauders, behind the curtain.

The world is under siege by demons,
At the helm of all affairs; good and bad.
This is the Golden Era of Enlightenment!
Similar to French Revolution, Renaissance
And Second World War!
We talk of global warming, common market,
Ozone layer, nuclear power, and landing on Mars,
When people are leading strife strewn days,
Vitiated morals, and spewing violence;
And people are dying without food and shelter,
Of tsunamis, earth quakes, floods, and hurricanes.
We are progressing! But whither?





-- -- --



~ By Kunjubi




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




Honeymooning!

delightful time reprimand maidens

“Why are you teasing me before
I finish narrating to you, my maidens?”

“When it was dusk, didn’t you takeover
The splendour of the sky into your countenance,
Thinking of a sensual, sleepless night?”

“Didn’t the bangles, dingle like bells peeling,
At midnight, when you blew off the small lamp,
In the flower bedecked chamber, before sleeping?”

“Didn’t a rainbow glisten on your timid cheeks,
When the door of the bedchamber was closed?”

“Didn’t you reprimand and censure the rooster,
When it crowed early in the morning?”

“Come on my friends, this time is precious.
We can not afford to waste it, with our empty words.
This is a delightful time, fragrant with sweet passions,
Of an ever remembered, night of honeymoon.
The spring has arrived, can’t you just hear
The impassioned moments, calling you?”

“I know, if I keep tight lipped, you will make me,
Tell you everything that happened, with me;
And once I tell you, you will start taunting me!
Impossible to spend my hours with you like this,
I am baffled and fed up, my dearest friends.”…



-- -- --



~ By Kunjubi




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The House of Death


Retuning to the past A return from the past
Returning to my birthplace

After two decades

Only to find the river

On the bank of which I grew.



It flowed yet seemed immobile

For the muck and all the mush

Floating on its heavy chest

Like pus oozing out of sore.



The old house stood alone

All hopes of my return lost

The return of the lone inheritor

Yet alive with a dead mind!



My parents lay there buried

Under the mango tree

That stood before me

With open wounds-like fruits.



Scared to enter the house

Of my childhood days

To kiss the hand again

From the distant past



That rocked me to sleep

And fed me with her milk

That bathed me in the river

And clothed me in silk.



I turned my back on the door

And hurried back to the road

That led me to the distant tracks

To board the remorseless train.




-- -- --



~ By Satishchandran M




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Serenade I Was Afraid to Sing

Memories of lost love A lifetime of guilt


There is a cry in the rains
Which begins as a hushed sob
Gradually opening up into
A heart rending wail

I could see the train on the distant tracks
Wheeling ahead hooting about like mad
Reeling under the suffocating breath of loss
Of love I suffered when she walked on me
Angry and dejected for my failure
To reach the railroad station in time
To flee together from all protests brewing around

Now I am married with a grown-up daughter
With long oily eyes that long for whistling winds
Splashing rains, surging waves inviting
Her to take the plunge her father feared to take
When someone like her awaited him long ago
And disappeared with the mocking train in despair
Never to come back again and see his cowardly face

The rains are here again lashing against
A life time of guilt, self pity and unbearable despondency
Wile my daughter with oily eyes standing at her window
Singing the serenade, which I was afraid to sing!




-- -- --



~ By Satishchandran M




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




Please Take Care Of My Mom

Dutiful father Passing times Daughter's request

You took me to the school on your mobike

To enroll me in the kindergarten. Ever since

Went with me to PTA meetings and fests

Offering suggestions and accepting accolades.



Time passed so swiftly pushing me out of school

Making me ride my own bike not bothering any

You too drifted from me for your demanding jobs

Leaving me to be nurtured and groomed by mom.



Now I am married off to some faraway land

Where a young entrepreneur takes me to his home

To shape a lifetime together, flourish and bloom

Farther from you father, please take care of my mom!






-- -- --



~ By Satishchandran M




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




WORKING MOM


Planting a soft kiss on your sweet chubby cheeks

Before I release your tiny fingers twirled around mine

Reluctantly leaving for work, tho' I'd like to linger

To hold you a wee bit longer,

To hold you a little more closer

To bury my face in your wispy soft hair

And forget all else in the world.





I wish I could hold you, cuddle you, bathe you

And do all those baby things that stay-at-home Mommies do.

It breaks my heart to see you pout

When it's time for me to leave for work

Baby, I've got other responsibilities

That I can't possibly shirk.



You come first, undoubtedly, on my priority list

My whole world comes apart when I have to release

my finger from your firmly clenched fist.

Just let me go today, only for a day please



As I wipe away a stray tear,

I console myself that I'm doing all this

For a better life and future, my darling daughter

You can't fathom my feelings, about how much I miss

Your sugar sweet smiles and gurgles

When you chortle with laughter

And coo in wonder

Pain rips my heart asunder.







-- -- --



~ By Sushma Koppikar




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




HAIKU


My love for you is

Rainbow spanning horizons

Rekindling lost flame.


Quiet sea reflects

Blazing orange sunset, as

Forlorn tree watches.




Dewy fresh beauty

Purity personified

Oh! Pristine white rose.





Mirror images meet

Placidly on lake where the

Undercurrents lurk.





Gossamer veil of

Dawn drops down coquettishly

On shimmering sea.





Bask in the sunshine.

Soon the autumn gold will turn

Cold and wintry white.



Embedded in sand,

Stands the bare tree forlornly

Watching time slip by.








-- -- --



~ By Sushma Koppikar




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




25 minutes of tears


tears little angel

She
knelt before the statue;

right beside me;

with eyes closed

i began to thank and

ask for his providence.



thanking stopped & asking began

went on and on...

give me this and give me that

felt a hand tap on me

found none

eyes drifted towards the lad



gazing at the statue she wept;

the 1st drop,

2nd drop &

the 3rd ….

no words said; eyes fixed

tear crystals tripled down.



minutes passed;

tears seized not.

my heart sank,

asking stopped, knelt perplexed!

wonder why; wonder what was

she weeping for???????



wild thoughts….. is her

mother sick, father no more,

is she an orphan; starving without food.



25 MINUTES!!!

she knelt

tears still dropping....

an unpleasant sadness chocked my throat,

her tears became mine

prayers turned hers



surprise she got up;

tears stopped;

she began to walk,

made a move towards the girl

questioned if she wishes help.



an unshakeable faith
her smile said it all

emotions swelled up

eyes saturated;

no words

kissed her & bid her farewell

it touched me, it actually did


went back & cried,

learnt a lesson;

a lesson of love

a lesson of sacrifice

a lesson to help

a lesson to be learnt every day.




that 25 minutes of teardrops

linger……

very very close to my .



--------------------------------------

Got inspired by a 5 year old kid, both parents doctors in a reputed hospital, the little angel had actually prayed for a boy at her mama’s clinic who eventually happens to be her neighbor.

Kids teach us lot; never seen a small kid praying so fervently; just tears dropping, no words & no moves. Her belief was awesome, for a small lad to kneel for 25 minutes & pray for someone is a miracle. That day stopped asking or cribbing.






-- -- --



~ By Opulence




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




My Offspring!!!



Pregnant I stood all alone

no home to stay;

looked for shelter found no way.



Time was short for a place to rest,

wired and hungry tried my best.

climbed a sycamore tree step by step;

finally reached a bark filled with leaves & flowers

a safe place to build my webbed nest.



Fasten my belt in the scorching sun,

with the 1st golden thread, started my web;

slipped from branches had no choice,

Recollected our motto “try try never give up until you succeed”



4 hours of labor, knitted a wonderful web,

sure enough to lay my eggs;

legs trembling & limbs weak,

wish I had something to eat.

God felt my pain and he did send,

a juicy house-fly for me to apprehend.



Lived on the house-fly eggs did I lay;

1,2,3 a count of 1000 to my dismay.

nourished & waited for that day

eggs hatched; my little ones smiled at me with gay.



Each had a home the toil of my sweet,

cuddled together for warmth of my breast.

held them close with pride and love,

home of joy, beam of sunlight & dew drops around.



One day they would build a web of their own;

with that same determination; have a majestic throne.



Oh My offspring!!! My offspring!!!







-- -- --



~ By Opulence




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




THE LAST TRUTH



This I always hear

‘Away she has gone, away she has gone’

But let me say

Don’t say, ‘She is no more’

Because it’s a lie

And this I cannot bear

It wounds my heart.

To mortal beings

Coming and going are two separate things

So whatever they say

Bears some hope.

I want to lose my soul in that ocean

Where to be and not to be

Fill it to the full

And are mixed in a balance.

Transcreation of Shesh pratistha, the last poem of the collection Palataka, by Rabindranath Tagore. It was written immediately after the tragic death of the poet’s first child, his eldest daughter, Madhurilata



-- -- --



~ By Rabindranath Tagore




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




THE BRAHMIN



From the Chhandogya Upanishad

In the shades of the darkening woodlands

On the banks of the river Saraswati

The evening sun had just set;

The sons of the rishis

Bearing on their head

Loads of timber from the woods

For their sacred fire

Had returned to the hermitage;

They had brought their gentle cattle too

Back to the fold

After their daylong grazing;

Having taken their evening bath

They had assembled

In the compound of the hermitage

Lighted by the holy fire

And taken their seats

Around their mentor Gautama.
Peace prevailed like deep meditation

Above in the boundless skies

Where the stars in clusters

Like curious scholars

Were seated in rows

In deep silence.

Now the quiet hermitage became busy;

The great sage Gautama

Told his disciples

'Be attentive, my sons,

Now I shall talk about the supreme being'.



At that very moment

A young boy with his hands full of offerings

Entered the compound;

Putting them on the feet of the sage

And saluting him in reverence

Told in his sweet young voice

'Divine sir, I am eager to learn

The knowledge of the divine

I have come for initiation

My name is Satyakama

I am a resident of Kushakshetra'.

Whereupon the sage smiled

And in gentle words

Told the boy,

'I wish you well my son.

But what is your pedigree?

Only the brahmins have a right

To know such things'.

To this the boy gently replied,

'Sir, I don't know my pedigree

I seek your leave

To ask my mother

And come back tomorrow'.



So saying and paying reverence to the sage

Satyakama went

Taking the dark forest path.

He crossed on foot

The crystal clear waters

Of the narrow Saraswati

And arrived at his mother's cottage

Which stood on the sandy banks

And silently slept at the village-end.



Within the cottage

The lamp lighted in the evening

Was still burning;

And mother Javala reclining at the door

Was waiting for her son;

Seeing him back

She pressed him against her breast

And kissed his forehead and wished him well.

Satyakama asked,

'Tell me mother, what is my father's name,

What is my pedigree?

I had gone to Gautama for initiation

And the sage told me

Only the brahmins have a right

To divine knowledge'.

Hearing this

The mother in a subdued voice

And with a bowed head

Told,

'In poverty at my young age

I had conceived you

After serving many people,

You have been born to unmarried Javala,

I don't know who is your father, my son'.



On the day following

The fresh and fair morning had broken

On the treetops of the hermitage.

All the scholars,

Like dew-bathed fresh morning light

Like rays of spiritual flames

Brightened by devotion,

Having taken their morning bath

With their matted locks of hair still wet

Like the very pictures of purity and beauty

Were seated around their preceptor Gautama

At the foot of the ancient banyan tree.

And in harmony with the songs of the birds,

The humming of the bees

And the sounds of the flowing streams

There was rising a sombre and sweet sound

Of the divine sama songs

Sung in a collective tune

Of many young voices.

At the moment like this

Satyakama came and saluted the sage –

Without blinking his eyes he waited in silence.

The teacher blessed him and asked,

'What is your pedigree, my fair boy?'

Raising his head the boy replied,

'Sir, I don't know.

I had asked my mother

Who has told me –

‘I had conceived you after serving many people,

You have been born to unmarried Javala,

I don't know who is your father –'

Hearing this

The students began to murmur in a low voice

As the bees become agitated

When a stone is thrown at their hive –

All were awe-struck

Some smiled in derision,

Some threw abusive words

Seeing the impudence of the boy

Quite unbecoming of an Aryan.

The sage Gautama stood up

And with his arms outspread

Embraced the boy and told,

'My son, you are not a non-brahmin.

You are the best of the twice-born,

You have the true pedigree'.

Transcreation of the poem 'Brahman' from the collection Katha by Rabindranath Tagore. Compare poem 64 of Fruit-Gathering.

Best recording of its recitation is by Gouri Ghosh.







-- -- --



~ By Rabindranath Tagore




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




..and thee?



This moment, a quietness of now,
a buzzing sound of a restless bee,
too many questions seek solace
in knowing
you are watching -
me;

The sea would join a chorus,
to my racing heart and a tapping foot,
this eyes search you -
playing chase - childlike, futile
you seem to win -
always;

The greens would play the part
sacrifice, spring, sunshine,
for butterflies, buffaloes, buffoons -
unpoetic, hopelessly rhymed,
like
people put together
in mad jigsaw of life;

A stray beast would wander,
a strangely earned freedom,
shot down soon - complexities
delicious meat with wine of France
toasting to more events like this,
celebrating killing
or
celebrating another birth year;

A new child would ask questions
old of generation,
challenging wisdom of set systems -
useless, expired, hypocrite
only to be named -
rude, disrespectful, satanic;

Trying relationships,
breaking new hearts - learning to give a chance to love,
breaking old hearts - learnt to relove,
experimenting, experiencing, playing
that old game of love,
being wise?
or
being a great sportsman?;


..and thee?

Closed soul, open eyes
search in wide sky of blue,
a star would twinkle - suddenly,
the hopes rise higher,
are you really there?
or
playing that human game -
just pretending to be there -
soulless?!

Into one such wilderness -






-- -- --



~ By Anjaline




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




Man and Woman


Like chalk to cheese,
a bee and a butterfly,
such paradoxes, such metaphors
such us;

As rhyme to reason,
giving up and giving in,
such streetsmartness, such naivity,
such us;

As mars to venus,
you angered as restless storm, me calm as a dead petal,
such praticality, such loving,
such us;

Like fiery sun to quiet moon,
you killing the subject, me seeking the solution,
such confirmations, such consolations,
such us;


As being hopeless to being hopeful,
in unfair, in all fairness,
such consolations, such confirmations
such us;

Like questions to answers;
in rage, in peace
such loveless love, such lovefull love,
such us;

such opposites are us
like
natural
this thing
you - adjustment
me - love






-- -- --



~ By Anjaline




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




Her


Her -
the titled verse
sometimes meaningless, sometimes pierced
right through a heart;

Her -
a small town girl,
trusting all -
you, me and the devils in us,
such naivity, such purity -
so rare heart;

Her -
keeping to herself, on a impossible goal
walking, almost stumbling -
a cursed path
trying to reach somewhere, making own bloods -
proud,
such a fruitless attempt -
suicidal;

Her -
suppressed dreams, confused mind
walking right?
or
walking sly?
such dilemma
such going under in a tunnel -
nightmares on early morn
restless, wine-drown midnights;

Her -
searching, finding, disappointing
temporary
pillow to rest tears -
Him
like
odd jobs on soul-less saturdays
underpaid, a compromise;

silence - a deathbed
inviting, cosy
to rest
undream - just sleep
do you know that feeling?

where she rests -
undreaming, such silence,
unloved, misunderstood
like
caged bird in unfree shops
selling cheap, making trade
look smart;

do you know
Her?





-- -- --



~ By Anjaline




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




Uncapitalised life


Broken toys, spider-crowded corners
overestimated wonderful life,
acting and failing -
to keep up the spring of existence;

generally speaking -
drifting and non-reaching
a faded goal,
a question-marked self -
confusions and mazes
of circumstances and fake co-incidences,
as painted dolls in markets of China
- cheap and affordable;

metal pieces of utmost importance,
making men - animals,
such blatant lies
and
a suppressed soul would sing -
can you hear the song?!

are we better than yesterday -
or plainly boosting self-ego,
in such a untitled world?!

dead would die again
a life mean so cursed,
is world being good -
or are we
cheating ourselves -
like our fellows in yesterdays?

in such a uncapitalised life!







-- -- --



~ By Anjaline




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




Forgotten



They whisper songs of yesterday,

smiling a while, wondering later

liked tired souls on a lost island

awaiting warm bath of lavendar and lemon;



Amidst that waiting,

pulse grasping leftover breaths,

a dew-kissed pathway, expecting strangers next morn,

like madonna dancing in love-cushioned moon-night;



a candle at the window -

flicker, then rest, later lose faith

on wind,

so much like a romeo

under that jinxed balcony,

an irony that is life -

he probably would exclaim

will he?!


the sonnets go missing,

as summer sun in a autumn -

like unfaithful lover

on passion-kissed night,

forgotten -
as a dead poet

so forgotten!

*written for the poet Sara Teasdale




-- -- --



~ By Anjaline




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Daisy follows soft the Sun


106

The Daisy follows soft the Sun—
And when his golden walk is done—
Sits shyly at his feet—
He—waking—finds the flower there—
Wherefore—Marauder—art thou here?
Because, Sir, love is sweet!

We are the Flower—Thou the Sun!
Forgive us, if as days decline—
We nearer steal to Thee!
Enamored of the parting West—
The peace—the flight—the Amethyst—
Night's possibility!




-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Day Came Slow


The day came slow, till five o'clock,
Then sprang before the hills,
Like hindered rubies, or the light,
A sudden musket spills.

The purple could not keep the east.
The sunrise shook from fold.
Like breadths of topaz, packed a night,
The lady just unrolled.

The happy winds their timbrels took;
The birds in docile rows,
Arranged themselves around their prince.
(The wind is prince of those.)

The orchard sparkled like a Jew,---
How mighty 'twas to stay,
A guest in this stupendous place,
The parlor of the day.





-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The day came slow, till five o' clock


The day came slow, till five o'clock
Then sprang before the hills
Like hindered rubies, or the light
A sudden musket spills

The purple could not keep the east,
The sunrise shook from fold,
Like breadths of topaz, packed a night,
The lady just unrolled.

The happy winds their timbrels took;
The birds, in docile rows,
Arranged themselves around their prince
(The wind is prince of those).

The orchard sparkled like a Jew, --
How mighty 't was, to stay
A guest in this stupendous place,
The parlor of the day!



-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Day that I was crowned


356

The Day that I was crowned
Was like the other Days—
Until the Coronation came—
And then—'twas Otherwise—

As Carbon in the Coal
And Carbon in the Gem
Are One—and yet the former
Were dull for Diadem—

I rose, and all was plain—
But when the Day declined
Myself and It, in Majesty
Were equally—adorned—

The Grace that I—was chose—
To Me—surpassed the Crown
That was the Witness for the Grace—
'Twas even that 'twas Mine—






-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Day undressed—Herself


716

The Day Undressed—Herself—
Her Garter—was of Gold—
Her Petticoat—of Purple plain—
Her Dimities—as old

Exactly—as the World—
And yet the newest Star—
Enrolled upon the Hemisphere
Be wrinkled—much as Her—

Too near to God—to pray—
Too near to Heaven—to fear—
The Lady of the Occident
Retired without a care—

Her Candle so expire
The flickering be seen
On Ball of Mast in Bosporus—
And Dome—and Window Pane—







-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Definition of Beauty is


988

The Definition of Beauty is
That Definition is none—
Of Heaven, easing Analysis,
Since Heaven and He are one.












-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The difference between Despair


305

The difference between Despair
And Fear—is like the One
Between the instant of a Wreck
And when the Wreck has been—

The Mind is smooth—no Motion—
Contented as the Eye
Upon the Forehead of a Bust—
That knows—it cannot see—











-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Doomed—regard the Sunrise


294

The Doomed—regard the Sunrise
With different Delight—
Because—when next it burns abroad
They doubt to witness it—

The Man—to die—tomorrow—
Harks for the Meadow Bird—
Because its Music stirs the Axe
That clamors for his head—

Joyful—to whom the Sunrise
Precedes Enamored—Day—
Joyful—for whom the Meadow Bird
Has ought but Elegy!




-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Drop, that wrestles in the Sea


284

The Drop, that wrestles in the Sea—
Forgets her own locality—
As I—toward Thee—

She knows herself an incense small—
Yet small—she sighs—if All—is All—
How larger—be?

The Ocean—smiles—at her Conceit—
But she, forgetting Amphitrite—
Pleads—"Me"?






-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Dust behind I strove to join


992

The Dust behind I strove to join
Unto the Disk before—
But Sequence ravelled out of Sound
Like Balls upon a Floor—





-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The dying need but little, dear,--


The dying need but little, dear,--
A glass of water's all,
A flower's unobtrusive face
To punctuate the wall,

A fan, perhaps, a friend's regret,
And certainly that one
No color in the rainbow
Perceives when you are gone.





-- -- --



~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The face I carry with me—last


336

The face I carry with me—last—
When I go out of Time—
To take my Rank—by—in the West—
That face—will just be thine—

I'll hand it to the Angel—
That—Sir—was my Degree—
In Kingdoms—you have heard the Raised—
Refer to—possibly.

He'll take it—scan it—step aside—
Return—with such a crown
As Gabriel—never capered at—
And beg me put it on—

And then—he'll turn me round and round—
To an admiring sky—
As one that bore her Master's name—
Sufficient Royalty!




-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The feet of people walking home


7

The feet of people walking home
With gayer sandals go—
The Crocus— til she rises
The Vassal of the snow—
The lips at Hallelujah
Long years of practise bore
Til bye and bye these Bargemen
Walked singing on the shore.

Pearls are the Diver's farthings
Extorted from the Sea—
Pinions— the Seraph's wagon
Pedestrian once— as we—
Night is the morning's Canvas
Larceny— legacy—
Death, but our rapt attention
To Immortality.

My figures fail to tell me
How far the Village lies—
Whose peasants are the Angels—
Whose Cantons dot the skies—
My Classics veil their faces—
My faith that Dark adores—
Which from its solemn abbeys
Such ressurection pours.



-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The Fingers of the Light


1000

The Fingers of the Light
Tapped soft upon the Town
With "I am great and cannot wait
So therefore let me in."

"You're soon," the Town replied,
"My Faces are asleep—
But swear, and I will let you by,
You will not wake them up."

The easy Guest complied
But once within the Town
The transport of His Countenance
Awakened Maid and Man

The Neighbor in the Pool
Upon His Hip elate
Made loud obeisance and the Gnat
Held up His Cup for Light.




-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The first Day that I was a Life


902

The first Day that I was a Life
I recollect it—How still—
That last Day that I was a Life
I recollect it—as well—

'Twas stiller—though the first
Was still—
"Twas empty—but the first
Was full—

This—was my finallest Occasion—
But then
My tenderer Experiment
Toward Men—

"Which choose I"?
That—I cannot say—
"Which choose They"?
Question Memory!






-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The first Day's Night had come


410

The first Day's Night had come—
And grateful that a thing
So terrible—had been endured—
I told my Soul to sing—

She said her Strings were snapt—
Her Bow—to Atoms blown—
And so to mend her—gave me work
Until another Morn—

And then—a Day as huge
As Yesterdays in pairs,
Unrolled its horror in my face—
Until it blocked my eyes—

My Brain—begun to laugh—
I mumbled—like a fool—
And tho' 'tis Years ago—that Day—
My Brain keeps giggling—still.

And Something's odd—within—
That person that I was—
And this One—do not feel the same—
Could it be Madness—this?




-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The Flower must not blame the Bee


206

The Flower must not blame the Bee—
That seeketh his felicity
Too often at her door—

But teach the Footman from Vevay—
Mistress is "not at home"—to say—
To people—any more!




-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The Future—never spoke


672

The Future—never spoke—
Nor will He—like the Dumb—
Reveal by sign—a syllable
Of His Profound To Come—

But when the News be ripe—
Presents it—in the Act—
Forestalling Preparation—
Escape—or Substitute—

Indifference to Him—
The Dower—as the Doom—
His Office—but to execute
Fate's—Telegram—to Him—





-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The Gentian weaves her fringes


18

The Gentian weaves her fringes—
The Maple's loom is red—
My departing blossoms
Obviate parade.

A brief, but patient illness—
An hour to prepare,
And one below this morning
Is where the angels are—
It was a short procession,
The Bobolink was there—
An aged Bee addressed us—
And then we knelt in prayer—
We trust that she was willing—
We ask that we may be.
Summer—Sister—Seraph!
Let us go with thee!

In the name of the Bee—
And of the Butterfly—
And of the Breeze—Amen!




-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The good Will of a Flower


849

The good Will of a Flower
The Man who would possess
Must first present
Certificate
Of minted Holiness.





-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The Grace—Myself—might not obtain


707

The Grace—Myself—might not obtain—
Confer upon My flower—
Refracted but a Countenance—
For I—inhabit Her—




-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The Guest is gold and crimson


15

The Guest is gold and crimson—
An Opal guest and gray—
Of Ermine is his doublet—
His Capuchin gay—

He reaches town at nightfall—
He stops at every door—
Who looks for him at morning
I pray him too—explore
The Lark's pure territory—
Or the Lapwing's shore!









-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Grass so little has to do


The Grass so little has to do –
A Sphere of simple Green –
With only Butterflies to brood
And Bees to entertain –
And stir all day to pretty Tunes
The Breezes fetch along –
And hold the Sunshine in its lap
And bow to everything –

And thread the Dews, all night, like Pearls –
And make itself so fine
A Duchess were too common
For such a noticing –

And even when it dies – to pass
In Odors so divine –
Like Lowly spices, lain to sleep –
Or Spikenards, perishing –

And then, in Sovereign Barns to dwell –
And dream the Days away,
The Grass so little has to do
I wish I were a Hay –









-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The hallowing of Pain


772

The hallowing of Pain
Like hallowing of Heaven,
Obtains at a corporeal cost—
The Summit is not given

To Him who strives severe
At middle of the Hill—
But He who has achieved the Top—
All—is the price of All—






-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The heart asks pleasure first


The heart asks pleasure first
And then, excuse from pain-
And then, those little anodynes
That deaden suffering;

And then, to go to sleep;
And then, if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor,
The liberty to die.




-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Heart has narrow Banks


928

The Heart has narrow Banks
It measures like the Sea
In mighty—unremitting Bass
And Blue Monotony

Till Hurricane bisect
And as itself discerns
Its sufficient Area
The Heart convulsive learns

That Calm is but a Wall
Of unattempted Gauze
An instant's Push demolishes
A Questioning—dissolves.







-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem




The Heaven vests for Each


694

The Heaven vests for Each
In that small Deity
It craved the grace to worship
Some bashful Summer's Day—

Half shrinking from the Glory
It importuned to see
Till these faint Tabernacles drop
In full Eternity—

How imminent the Venture—
As one should sue a Star—
For His mean sake to leave the Row
And entertain Despair—

A Clemency so common—
We almost cease to fear—
Enabling the minutest—
And furthest—to adore—









-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The Himmaleh was known to stoop


481

The Himmaleh was known to stoop
Unto the Daisy low—
Transported with Compassion
That such a Doll should grow
Where Tent by Tent—Her Universe
Hung out its Flags of Snow—




-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The Hollows round His eager Eyes


955

The Hollows round His eager Eyes
Were Pages where to read
Pathetic Histories—although
Himself had not complained.
Biography to All who passed
Of Unobtrusive Pain
Except for the italic Face
Endured, unhelped—unknown.





-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The Judge is like the Owl


699

The Judge is like the Owl—
I've heard my Father tell—
And Owls do build in Oaks—
So here's an Amber Sill—

That slanted in my Path—
When going to the Barn—
And if it serve You for a House—
Itself is not in vain—

About the price—'tis small—
I only ask a Tune
At Midnight—Let the Owl select
His favorite Refrain.









-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The Juggler's Hat her Country is


330

The Juggler's Hat her Country is—
The Mountain Gorse—the Bee's!






-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The Lady feeds Her little Bird


941

The Lady feeds Her little Bird
At rarer intervals—
The little Bird would not dissent
But meekly recognize

The Gulf between the Hand and Her
And crumbless and afar
And fainting, on Her yellow Knee
Fall softly, and adore—








-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The Lamp burns sure—within


233

The Lamp burns sure—within—
Tho' Serfs—supply the Oil—
It matters not the busy Wick—
At her phosphoric toil!

The Slave—forgets—to fill—
The Lamp—burns golden—on—
Unconscious that the oil is out—
As that the Slave—is gone.





-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The last Night that She lived


1100

The last Night that She lived
It was a Common Night
Except the Dying—this to Us
Made Nature different

We noticed smallest things—
Things overlooked before
By this great light upon our Minds
Italicized—as 'twere.

As We went out and in
Between Her final Room
And Rooms where Those to be alive
Tomorrow were, a Blame

That Others could exist
While She must finish quite
A Jealousy for Her arose
So nearly infinite—

We waited while She passed—
It was a narrow time—
Too jostled were Our Souls to speak
At length the notice came.

She mentioned, and forgot—
Then lightly as a Reed
Bent to the Water, struggled scarce—
Consented, and was dead—

And We—We placed the Hair—
And drew the Head erect—
And then an awful leisure was
Belief to regulate—





-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Leaves Like Women Interchange


987

The Leaves like Women interchange
Exclusive Confidence—
Somewhat of nods and somewhat
Portentous inference.

The Parties in both cases
Enjoining secrecy—
Inviolable compact
To notoriety.






-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Lightning playeth—all the while


Hi There! I see you're enjoying the site, and just wanted to extend an invitiation to register for our free site. The members of oldpoetry strive to make this a fun place to learn and share - hope you join us! - Kevin






-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Loneliness One dare not sound


777

The Loneliness One dare not sound—
And would as soon surmise
As in its Grave go plumbing
To ascertain the size—

The Loneliness whose worst alarm
Is lest itself should see—
And perish from before itself
For just a scrutiny—

The Horror not to be surveyed—
But skirted in the Dark—
With Consciousness suspended—
And Being under Lock—

I fear me this—is Loneliness—
The Maker of the soul
Its Caverns and its Corridors
Illuminate—or seal—









-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The lonesome for they know not What


262

The lonesome for they know not What—
The Eastern Exiles—be—
Who strayed beyond the Amber line
Some madder Holiday—

And ever since—the purple Moat
They strive to climb—in vain—
As Birds—that tumble from the clouds
Do fumble at the strain—

The Blessed Ether—taught them—
Some Transatlantic Morn—
When Heaven—was too common—to miss—
Too sure—to dote upon!







-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Love a Life can show Below


673

The Love a Life can show Below
Is but a filament, I know,
Of that diviner thing
That faints upon the face of Noon—
And smites the Tinder in the Sun—
And hinders Gabriel's Wing—

'Tis this—in Music—hints and sways—
And far abroad on Summer days—
Distils uncertain pain—
'Tis this enamors in the East—
And tints the Transit in the West
With harrowing Iodine—

'Tis this—invites—appalls—endows—
Flits—glimmers—proves—dissolves—
Returns—suggests—convicts—enchants—
Then—flings in Paradise—







-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Malay—took the Pearl


452

The Malay—took the Pearl—
Not—I—the Earl—
I—feared the Sea—too much
Unsanctified—to touch—

Praying that I might be
Worthy—the Destiny—
The Swarthy fellow swam—
And bore my Jewel—Home—

Home to the Hut! What lot
Had I—the Jewel—got—
Borne on a Dusky Breasty—
I had not deemed a Vest
Of Amber—fit—

The Negro never knew
I—wooed it—too—
To gain, or be undone—
Alike to Him—One—








-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Manner of its Death


468

The Manner of its Death
When Certain it must die—
'Tis deemed a privilege to choose—
'Twas Major Andre's Way—

When Choice of Life—is past—
There yet remains a Love
Its little Fate to stipulate—

How small in those who live—

The Miracle to tease
With Bable of the styles—
How "they are Dying mostly—now"—
And Customs at "St. James"!






-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Martyr Poets—did not tell


544

The Martyr Poets—did not tell—
But wrought their Pang in syllable—
That when their mortal name be numb—
Their mortal fate—encourage Some—

The Martyr Painters—never spoke—
Bequeathing—rather—to their Work—
That when their conscious fingers cease—
Some seek in Art—the Art of Peace—







-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The Missing All—prevented Me


985

The Missing All—prevented Me
From missing minor Things.
If nothing larger than a World's
Departure from a Hinge—
Or Sun's extinction, be observed—
'Twas not so large that I
Could lift my Forehead from my work
For Curiosity.





-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The Months have ends—the Years—a knot


423

The Months have ends—the Years—a knot—
No Power can untie
To stretch a little further
A Skein of Misery—

The Earth lays back these tired lives
In her mysterious Drawers—
Too tenderly, that any doubt
An ultimate Repose—

The manner of the Children—
Who weary of the Day—
Themself—the noisy Plaything
They cannot put away—





-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The Moon is distant from the Sea


429

The Moon is distant from the Sea—
And yet, with Amber Hands—
She leads Him—docile as a Boy—
Along appointed Sands—

He never misses a Degree—
Obedient to Her Eye
He comes just so far—toward the Town—
Just so far—goes away—

Oh, Signor, Thine, the Amber Hand—
And mine—the distant Sea—
Obedient to the least command
Thine eye impose on me—






-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The Moon was but a Chin of Gold


737

The Moon was but a Chin of Gold
A Night or two ago—
And now she turns Her perfect Face
Upon the World below—

Her Forehead is of Amplest Blonde—
Her Cheek—a Beryl hewn—
Her Eye unto the Summer Dew
The likest I have known—

Her Lips of Amber never part—
But what must be the smile
Upon Her Friend she could confer
Were such Her Silver Will—

And what a privilege to be
But the remotest Star—
For Certainty She take Her Way
Beside Your Palace Door—

Her Bonnet is the Firmament—
The Universe—Her Shoe—
The Stars—the Trinkets at Her Belt—
Her Dimities—of Blue—





-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The Morning after Woe


364

The Morning after Woe—
'Tis frequently the Way—
Surpasses all that rose before—
For utter Jubilee—

As Nature did not care—
And piled her Blossoms on—
And further to parade a Joy
Her Victim stared upon—

The Birds declaim their Tunes—
Pronouncing every word
Like Hammers—Did they know they fell
Like Litanies of Lead—

On here and there—a creature—
They'd modify the Glee
To fit some Crucifixal Clef—
Some Key of Calvary—





-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The morns are meeker than they were


12

The morns are meeker than they were—
The nuts are getting brown—
The berry's cheek is plumper—
The Rose is out of town.

The Maple wears a gayer scarf—
The field a scarlet gown—
Lest I should be old fashioned
I'll put a trinket on.





-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





The Mountain sat upon the Plain


975

The Mountain sat upon the Plain
In his tremendous Chair—
His observation omnifold,
His inquest, everywhere—

The Seasons played around his knees
Like Children round a sire—
Grandfather of the Days is He
Of Dawn, the Ancestor—





-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





head down


Some days
it feels like
fighting a fierce wind

You just have
to lean into it
and move a little
slower



-- -- --




~ By D. James




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Regenerative



That dog padded home wearing a rip
in his back, clicked onto the kitchen linoleum
with a five-inch smile down his saddling spine.

Where pebbles and dark grit stuck to the wound's
lips, vertebrae like molars grinned through
in an anemic bluish white. The dumb grey

meat of his tongue like a sodden flag waiting
for breeze in the post-storm still of that house--
how he lashed the plucked chicken length of it,

then lapped at the seepage that hung from black
flews. He turned, and turned, and in turning sparks
of shock shot from his eyes as his chances of seeing

pain dimmed, coiled to a brute whine in his chest, I
pictured a bald nest of lab mice pulsing in there
crying its cancer away; pictured a shed door, askew

on its hinges, mowing thick weeds as it swung; even
pictured a field in that dog, where choirs of crickets
sawed through the night with the ache in their legs.

I could smell the top-heavy cattails' thinning brown
felt as it burst, breathing commas on para****es
into the world; heard the travelling s's of garter snakes

playing wet grass blades with cadmium scales as
they passed through invisible shivers. A lost leather
sneaker shone near a stump, like a child's plug-in

night-light, or a chipped-off sample of moon. Blue
shell casings coughed funnelled web from the throats
where their packed shot had been, and bleached-out

pages of porn doubled as mainsails, fitted to masts
of wild rose. Dew, meltwater cold, slid down my calves
like wet wrists unburdening jewels in my boots. Then no one

I knew approached through the dark, swinging a carved
column of light, prodding the bramble and weeds with
his staff that worked like a blind man's stick in reverse.

The mauve starbursts of thistles passed through it, casting
peaked shadows like crowns. Bugs strafed the beam, reared
from the black, threading it again, and again. He didn't

call out or raise his free hand or even target his lamp
on my head, just kept cresting the weeds with the twin
brows of his knees while scanning the foreground

for snags. Whether it was that he couldn't imagine me
there, and therefore I wasn't, or that my body actually
weighed in at nothing, doused as it was in that field's

feral moulting, bucking, breathing--its bull-stubborn
morphing of intrauterine moments--I couldn't decide.
There wasn't time. He passed on the left, dragged by

this light as if some shadowy leashed mastiff tractored
him on, plunging through weed. Solid black silhouette, receding,
until distance undermined outline, form bled into field.



-- -- --




~ By Ken Babstock




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Listening to jazz now



1.

Listening to jazz now, I'm happy
sun shining outside like it was my lifetime achievement award.
I'm happy,
with my friend and her dog up in Durango, her emailing
me this morning
no coon hound ailing yowls
vibrant I love yous.
I'm happy,
my smile a big Monarch butterfly
after having juiced up some carrots, garlic, seaweed,
I stroll the riverbank, lazy as a deep cello
in a basement bar--

smoke, cagney'd out patrons
caramel and chocolate women in black
shoulder strap satin dresses,
and red high heels.






-- -- --




~ By Jimmy Santiago Baca




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





This Day



I feel foolish,
like those silly robins jumping on the ditch boughs
when I run by them.
Those robins do not have the grand style of the red tailed hawk,
no design, no dream, just robins acting stupid.
They've never smoked cigarettes, drank whiskey, consumed drugs
as I have.
In their mindless
fluttering about
filled with nonsense,
they tell me how they
love the Great Spirit,
scold me not to be self-pitying,
to open my life
and make this day a bough on a tree
leaning over infinity, where eternity flows forward
and with day the river runs
carrying all that falls in it.
Be happy Jimmy, they chirp,
Jimmy, be silly, make this day a tree
leaning over the river eternity
and fuss about in its branches.





-- -- --




~ By Jimmy Santiago Baca




--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Between the Beating Clocks



Cheap, made to travel they throw their tiny drumbeats out in stereo from the bed table
to the work station. They fill the room
with a music of ticking, only just out
of synch. It could be maddening,
Poe's buried heart, or that spinning toy,
a shuttlecock, ratcheting over nylon cord
slap, slap, slap. Or the body's racket
in the blood, the slow tock of sex undone.
It soothes, they do, soothe, the ping-pong
rhythm of their second-clapping hands:
red line, a vein between this and that.





-- -- --




~ By Crystal Bacon



--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Luxury to apprehend


815

The Luxury to apprehend
The Luxury 'twould be
To look at Thee a single time
An Epicure of Me

In whatsoever Presence makes
Till for a further Food
I scarcely recollect to starve
So first am I supplied—

The Luxury to meditate
The Luxury it was
To banguet on thy Countenance
A Sumptuousness bestows

On plainer Days, whose Table far
As Certainty can see
Is laden with a single Crumb
The Consciousness of Thee.







-- -- --




~ By Emily Dickinson




--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Sonnet upon a Swedish Cottage

Written on the Road, Within a Few Miles of Stockholm

HERE, far from all the pomp ambition seeks,
Much sought, but only whilst untasted praised,
Content and innocence, with rosy cheeks,
Enjoy the simple shed their hands have raised.

On a grey rock it stands, whose fretted base
The distant cat'ract's murm'ring waters lave,
Whilst o'er its mossy roof, with varying grace,
The slender branches of the white birch wave.

Around the forest-fir is heard to sigh,
On which the pensive ear delights to dwell,
Whilst, as the gazing trav'ller passes by,
The grey goat, starting, sounds his tinkling bell.
Oh! in my native land, ere life's decline,
May such a spot, so wild, so sweet, be mine!








-- -- --




~ By Sir John Carr




--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Robinson Crusoe

THE night was thick and hazy
When the Piccadilly Daisy
Carried down the crew and captain in the sea;
And I think the water drowned 'em,
For they never, never found 'em,
And I know they didn't come ashore with me.

Oh! 'twas very sad and lonely
When I found myself the only
Population on this cultivated shore;
But I've made a little tavern
In a rocky little cavern,
And I sit and watch for people at the door.

I spent no time in looking
For a girl to do my cooking,
As I'm quite a clever hand at making stews;
But I had that fellow Friday
Just to keep the tavern tidy,
And to put a Sunday polish on my shoes.

I have a little garden
That I'm cultivating lard in,
As the things I eat are rather tough and dry;
For I live on toasted lizards,
Prickly pears, and parrot gizzards,
And I'm really very fond of beetle-pie.

The clothes I had were furry,
And it made me fret and worry
When I found the moths were eating off the hair;
And I had to scrape and sand 'em,
And I boiled 'em and I tanned 'em,
Till I got the fine morocco suit I wear.

I sometimes seek diversion
In a family excursion
With the few domestic animals you see;
And we take along a carrot
As refreshments for the parrot,
And a little can of jungleberry tea.

Then we gather as we travel
Bits of moss and dirty gravel,
And we chip off little specimens of stone;
And we carry home as prizes
Funny bugs of handy sizes,
Just to give the day a scientific tone.

If the roads are wet and muddy
We remain at home and study,--
For the Goat is very clever at a sum,--
And the Dog, instead of fighting,
Studies ornamental writing,
While the Cat is taking lessons on the drum.

We retire at eleven,
And we rise again at seven;
And I wish to call attention as I close,
To the fact that all the scholars
Are correct about their collars,
And particular in turning out their toes.










-- -- --




~ By Charles Edward Carryl




--> Man

[Man]

Poem






A Nautical Ballad

A CAPITAL ship for an ocean trip
Was The Walloping Window-blind --
No gale that blew dismayed her crew
Or troubled the captain's mind.
The man at the wheel was taught to feel
Contempt for the wildest blow,
And it often appeared, when the weather had cleared,
That he'd been in his bunk below.

The boatswain's mate was very sedate,
Yet fond of amusement, too;
And he played hop-scotch with the starboard watch,
While the captain tickled the crew.
And the gunner we had was apparently mad,
For he sat on the after-rail,
And fired salutes with the captain's boots,
In the teeth of the booming gale.

The captain sat in a commodore's hat
And dined, in a royal way,
On toasted pigs and pickles and figs
And gummery bread, each day.
But the cook was Dutch, and behaved as such;
For the food that he gave the crew
Was a number of tons of hot-cross buns,
Chopped up with sugar and glue.

And we all felt ill as mariners will,
On a diet that's cheap and rude;
And we shivered and shook as we dipped the cook
In a tub of his gluesome food.
Then nautical pride we laid aside,
And we cast the vessel ashore
On the Gulliby Isles, where the Poohpooh smiles,
And the Anagazanders roar.

Composed of sand was that favored land,
And trimmed with cinnamon straws;
And pink and blue was the pleasing hue
Of the Tickletoeteaser's claws.
And we sat on the edge of a sandy ledge
And shot at the whistling bee;
And the Binnacle-bats wore water-proof hats
As they danced in the sounding sea.

On rubagub bark, from dawn to dark,
We fed, till we all had grown
Uncommonly shrunk, -- when a Chinese junk
Came by from the torriby zone.
She was stubby and square, but we didn't much care,
And we cheerily put to sea;
And we left the crew of the junk to chew
The bark of the rubagub tree.







-- -- --




~ By Charles Edward Carryl




--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Making of Man

AS the insect from the rock
Takes the color of its wing;
As the boulder from the shock
Of the ocean's rhythmic swing
Makes itself a perfect form,
Learns a calmer front to raise;
As the shell, enamelled warm
With the prism's mystic rays,
Praises wind and wave that make
All its chambers fair and strong;
As the mighty poets take
Grief and pain to build their song:
Even so for every soul,
Whatsoe'er its lot may be,--
Building, as the heavens roll,
Something large and strong and free,--
Things that hurt and things that mar
Shape the man for perfect praise;
Shock and strain and ruin are
Friendlier than the smiling days.

John White Chadwick



Recognition

WHEN souls that have put off their mortal gear
Stand in the pure, sweet light of heaven's day,
And wondering deeply what to do or say,
And trembling more with rapture than with fear,
Desire some token of their friends most dear,
Who there some time have made their happy stay,
And much have longed for them to come that way,
What shall it be, this sign of hope and cheer?
Shall it be tone of voice or glance of eye?
Shall it be touch of hand or gleam of hair
Blown back from spirit-brows by heaven's air,--
Things which of old we knew our dearest by?
Oh, naught of this; but, if our love is true,
Some secret sense shall cry, 'Tis you and--you!









-- -- --




~ By John White Chadwick




--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Starlight

"LOOK up," she said; and all the heavens blazed
With countless myriads of quiet stars,
Whereon a moment silently he gazed,
And drank that peace no trouble ever mars.
Then looking down into her face upturned,
Two other stars that did outshine the rest
Upward to him with such soft splendor yearned
That all her secret was at once confessed.
Then he with kisses did put out their light
And said, "O strange, but more, dear love, to me
Are thy pure eyes than all the stars of night
That shine in heaven everlastingly!
Night still is night, with every star aglow;
But light were night didst thou not love me so."






-- -- --




~ By John White Chadwick




--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Rise of Man

THOU for whose birth the whole creation yearned
Through countless ages of the morning world,
Who, first in fiery vapors dimly hurled,
Next to the senseless crystal slowly turned,
Then to the plant which grew to something more,--
Humblest of creatures that draw breath of life,--
Wherefrom through infinites of patient pain
Came conscious man to reason and adore:
Shall we be shamed because such things have been,
Or bate one jot of our ancestral pride?
Nay, in thyself art thou not deified
That from such depths thou couldst such summits win?
While the long way behind is prophecy
Of those perfections which are yet to be.





-- -- --




~ By John White Chadwick




--> Man

[Man]

Poem






A Wedding-Song

I SAID: "My heart, now let us sing a song
For a fair lady on her wedding-day;
Some solemn hymn or pretty roundelay,
That shall be with her as she goes along
To meet her joy, and for her happy feet
Shall make a pleasant music, low and sweet."

Then said my heart: "It is right bold of thee
To think that any song that we could sing
Would for this lady be an offering
Meet for such gladness as hers needs must be,
What time she goes to don her bridal ring,
And her own heart makes sweetest caroling."

And so it is that with my lute unstrung,
Lady, I come to greet thy wedding-day;
But once, methinks, I heard a poet say,
The sweetest songs remain for aye unsung.
So mine, unsung, at thy dear feet I lay,
And with a "Peace be with you!" go my way.



-- -- --




~ By John White Chadwick




--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Men of Verdun


There are five men in the moonlight
That by their shadows stand;
Three hobble humped on crutches,
And two lack each a hand.

Frogs somewhere near the roadside
Chorus their chant absorbed:
But a hush breathes out of the dream-light
That far in heaven is orbed.

It is gentle as sleep falling
And wide as thought can span,
The ancient peace and wonder
That brims in the heart of man.

Beyond the hills it shines now
On no peace but the dead,
On reek of trenches thunder-shocked,
Tense fury of wills in wrestle locked,
A chaos of crumbled red!

The five men in the moonlight
Chat, joke, or gaze apart.
They talk of days and comrades,
But each one hides his heart.

They wear clean cap and tunic,
As when they went to war;
A gleam comes where the medal's pinned:
But they will fight no more.

The shadows, maimed and antic,
Gesture and shape distort,
Like mockery of a demon dumb
Out of the hell-din whence they come
That dogs them for his sport:

But as if dead men were risen
And stood before me there
With a terrible fame about them blown
In beams of spectral air,

I see them, men transfigured
As in a dream, dilate
Fabulous with the Titan-throb
Of battling Europe's fate;

For history's hushed before them,
And legend flames afresh, --
Verdun, the name of thunder,
Is written on their flesh.






-- -- --




~ By Laurence Binyon




--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Verdun


Three hundred thousand men, but not enough
To break this township on a winding stream;
More yet must fall, and more, ere the red stuff
That built a nation's manhood may redeem
The Master's hopes and realize his dream.

They pave the way to Verdun; on their dust
The Hohenzollerns mount and, hand in hand,
Gaze haggard south; for yet another thrust
And higher hills must heap, ere they may stand
To feed their eyes upon the promised land.

One barrow, borne of women, lifts them high,
Built up of many a thousand human dead.
Nursed on their mothers' bosoms, now they lie --
A Golgotha, all shattered, torn and sped,
A mountain for these royal feet to tread.

A Golgotha, upon whose carrion clay
Justice of myriad men still in the womb
Shall heave two crosses; crucify and flay
Two memories accurs'd; then in the tomb
Of world-wide execration give them room.

Verdun! a clarion thy name shall ring
Adown the ages and the Nations see
Thy monuments of glory. Now we bring
Thank-offering and bend the reverent knee,
Thou star upon the crown of Liberty!








-- -- --




~ By Eden Philpotts





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Guns of Verdun


Guns of Verdun point to Metz
From the plated parapets;
Guns of Metz grin back again
O'er the fields of fair Lorraine.

Guns of Metz are long and grey,
Growling through a summer day;
Guns of Verdun, grey and long,
Boom an echo of their song.

Guns of Metz to Verdun roar,
"Sisters, you shall foot the score;"
Guns of Verdun say to Metz
"Fear not, for we pay our debts."

Guns of Metz they grumble, "When?"
Guns of Verdun answer then,
"Sisters, when to guard Lorraine
Gunners lay you East again!"










-- -- --




~ By Patrick R. Chalmers





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Qui Vive?


Qui vive? Who passes by up there?
Who moves -- what stirs in the startled air?
What whispers, thrills, exults up there?
Qui vive?
"The Flags of France."

What wind on a windless night is this,
That breathes as light as a lover's kiss,
That blows through the night with bugle notes,
That streams like a pennant from a lance,
That rustles, that floats?
"The Flags of France."

What richly moves, what lightly stirs,
Like a noble lady in a dance,
When all men's eyes are in love with hers
And needs must follow?
"The Flags of France."

What calls to the heart -- and the heart has heard,
Speaks, and the soul has obeyed the word,
Summons, and all the years advance,
And the world goes forward with France -- with France?
"The Flags of France."

What flies -- a glory, through the night,
While the legions stream -- a line of light,
And men fall to the left and fall to the right,
But they fall not?
"The Flags of France."

Qui vive? Who comes? What approaches there?
What soundless tumult, what breath in the air
Takes the breath in the throat, the blood from the heart?
In a flame of dark, to the unheard beat
Of an unseen drum and fleshless feet,
They approach -- they come. Who comes? (Hush! Hark!)
"Qui vive?"
"The Flags of France."

Uncover the head and kneel -- kneel down,
A monarch passes, without a crown,
Let the proud tears fall but the heart beat high:
The Greatest of All is passing by,
On its endless march in the endless Plan:
"Qui vive?"
"The Spirit of Man."

"O Spirit of Man, pass on! Advance!"
And they who lead, who hold the van?
Kneel down!
The Flags of France.













-- -- --




~ By Grace Ellery Channing
Paris, 1917





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Merciles Beautè

I. CAPTIVITY

YOUR yën two wol slee me sodenly,
I may the beautè of hem not sustene,
So woundeth hit through-out my herte kene.

And but your word wol helen hastily
My hetres wounde, whyl that hit is grene,
Your yën two wol slee me sodenly,
I may the beautè of hem not sustene.

Upon my trouthe I seyy yow feithfully,
That ye ben of my lyf deeth the quene;
Foe with my deeth the trouthe shal be sene.
Your yën two wol slee me sodenly,
I may the beautè of hem not sustene,
So woundeth hit through-out my herte kene.













-- -- --




~ By Geoffrey Chaucer





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Merciles Beautè

II. REJECTION

So hath your beautè fro your herte chaced
Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne;
For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne.

Giltles my deeth thus han ye me purchaced;
I sey yow sooth, me nedeth not to feyne;
So hath your beautè fro your herte chaced
Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne.

Allas! that nature hath in yow compassed
So greet beautè; that no man may atteyne
To mercy, though he sterves for the peyne.
So hath your beautè fro your herte chaced
Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne;
For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne.







-- -- --




~ By Geoffrey Chaucer





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Merciles Beautè

III. ESCAPE

Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat,
I never think to ben in his prison lene;
Sin I am free, I counte him not a bene.

He may answere, and seye this or that;
I do no fors, I speke right as I mene.
Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat,
I never think to ben in his prison lene.

Love hath my name y-strike out of his sclat,
And he is strike out of my bokes clene
For ever-mo; ther s non other mene.
Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat,
I never think to ben in his prison lene;
Sin I am free, I counte him not a bene.



-- -- --




~ By Geoffrey Chaucer





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Complaint of Chaucer to his Purse


Note: The king addressed in the 'Lenvoy' is probably Henry IV

TO you, my purse, and to none other wight
Complain I, for you be my lady dear!
I am so sorry, now that you be light;
For certain, but you make me heavy cheer,
Me were as lief be laid upon my bier;
For which unto your mercy thus I cry:
Be heavy again, or else might I die!

Now voucheth safe this day, or be it night,
That I of you the blissful sound may hear,
Or see your colour like the sun bright,
That of yellowness had never peer.
You be my life, you be mine heart's steer*, *helmsman
Queen of comfort and of good company:
Be heavy again, or else might I die!

Now, purse, that be to me my life's light
And saviour, as done in this world here,
Out of this town help me through your might,
Since that you will not be my treasurer;
For I am shaved as nigh as any friar.
But yet I pray unto your courtesy:
Be heavy again, or else might I die!


Lenvoy de Chaucer

O conqueror of Brute's Albion*, *England
Which that by line and free election
Be very king, this song to you I send;
And you, that may all our harms amend,
Have mind upon my supplication!



-- -- --




~ By Geoffrey Chaucer





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Great Is To-Day

OUT on a world that has run to weed!
The great tall corn is still strong in his seed;
Plant her breast with laughter, put song in your toil,
The heart is still young in the old mother soil:
Never bluer heavens nor greener sod
Since the round world rolled from the hand of god.

The clouds keep their promise; believe, and sow!
There are sweet banks yet where the south winds blow;
The sun still plunges and mounts again,
The new moons fill when the old moons wane:
There's sunshine and bird song, and red and white clover,
And love lives yet, skies under and over.

Is wisdom dead now Solon's no more?
Are the children done playing at the Muse's door?
While your Plato, your Shakespeare goes down to the tomb,
His brother stirs in the good mother-womb;
There's dreaming of daisies and running of brooks,
Yes, life enough yet to put in the books.

Out on a world that has run to weed!
The lusty hours, as of old they breed,
And the man child thrives. For your Jacob no tears;
Rachel is there, at the end of the years.
The waving of wheat, of the tall strong corn!
His heart-blood is water who wanders forlorn.





-- -- --




~ By John Vance Cheney





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Lepanto

WHITE founts falling in the courts of the sun,
And the Soldan of Byzantium is smiling as they run;
There is laughter like the fountains in that face of all men feared,
It stirs the forest darkness, the darkness of his beard,
It curls the blood-red crescent, the crescent of his lips,
For the inmost sea of all the earth is shaken with his ships.
They have dared the white republics up the capes of Italy,
They have dashed the Adriatic round the Lion of the Sea,
And the Pope has cast his arms abroad for agony and loss,
And called the kings of Christendom for swords about the Cross,
The cold queen of England is looking in the glass;
The shadow of the Valois is yawning at the Mass;
From evening isles fantastical rings faint the Spanish gun,
And the Lord upon the Golden Horn is laughing in the sun.

Dim drums throbbing, in the hills half heard,
Where only on a nameless throne a crownless prince has stirred,
Where, risen from a doubtful seat and half attainted stall,
The last knight of Europe takes weapons from the wall,
The last and lingering troubadour to whom the bird has sung,
That once went singing southward when all the world was young,
In that enormous silence, tiny and unafraid,
Comes up along the winding road the noise of the Crusade.
Strong gongs groaning as the guns boom far,
Don John of Austria is going to the war,
Stiff flags straining in the night-blasts cold
In the gloom black-purple, in the glint old-gold.

Torchlight crimson on the copper kettle-drums,
Then the tuckets, then the trumpets, then the cannon, and he comes.
Don John laughing in the brave beard curled,
Spurning of his stirrups like the throne of all the world,
Holding his head up for a flag of all the free.
Love-light of Spain -- hurrah!
Death-light of Africa!
Don John of Austria
Is riding to the sea.

Mahound is in his paradise above the evening star,
(Don John of Austria is going to the war.)
He moves a mighty turban on the timeless houri's knees,
His turban that is woven of the sunset and the seas.
He shakes the peacock gardens as he rises from his ease,
And he strides among the tree-tops and is taller than the trees,
And his voice through all the garden is a thunder sent to bring
Black Azrael and Ariel and Ammon on the wing.
Giants and the Genii,
Multiple of wing and eye,
Whose strong obedience broke the sky
When Solomon was king.

They rush in red and purple from the red clouds of the morn,
From temples where the yellow gods shut up their eyes in scorn;
They rise in green robes roaring from the green hells of the sea
Where fallen skies and evil hues and eyeless creatures be;
On them the sea-valves cluster and the grey sea-forests curl,
Splashed with a splendid sickness, the sickness of the pearl;
They swell in sapphire smoke out of the blue cracks of the ground,--
They gather and they wonder and give worship to Mahound.
And he saith, `Break up the mountains where the hermit-folk can hide,
And sift the red and silver sands lest bone of saint abide,
And chase the Giaours flying night and day, not giving rest,
For that which was our trouble comes again out of the west.
We have set the seal of Solomon on all things under sun,
Of knowledge and of sorrow and endurance of things done,
But noise is in the mountains, in the mountains, and I know
The voice that shook our palaces -- four hundred years ago:
It is he that saith not `Kismet'; it is he that knows not Fate;
It is Richard, it is Raymond, it is Godfrey at the gate!
It is he whose loss is laughter when he counts the wager worth,
Put down your feet upon him, that our peace be on the earth.'
For he heard drums groaning and he heard guns jar,
(Don John of Austria is going to the war.)
Sudden and still -- hurrah!
Bolt from Iberia!
Don John of Austria
Is gone by Alcalar.

St Michael's on his mountain in the sea-roads of the north
(Don John of Austria is girt and going forth.)
Where the grey seas glitter and the sharp tides shift
And the sea folk labour and the red sails lift.
He shakes his lance of iron and he claps his wings of stone;
The noise is gone through Normandy; the noise is gone alone;
The North is full of tangled things and texts and aching eyes
And dead is all the innocence of anger and surprise,
And Christian killeth Christian in a narrow dusty room
And Christian dreadeth Christ that hath a newer face of doom,
And Christian hateth Mary that God kissed in Galilee,
But Don John of Austria is riding to the sea.
Don John calling through the blast and the eclipse
Crying with the trumpet, with the trumpet of his lips,
Trumpet that sayeth ha!
Domino gloria!
Don John of Austria
Is shouting to the ships.

King Philip's in his closet with the Fleece about his neck
(Don Juan of Austria is armed upon the deck.)
The walls are hung with velvet that is black and soft as sin,
And little dwarfs creep out of it and little dwarfs creep in.
He holds a crystal phial that has colours like the moon,
He touches, and it tingles, and he trembles very soon,
And his face is as a fungus of a leprous white and grey
Like plants in the high houses that are shuttered from the day,
And death is in the phial; and the end of noble work,
But Don John of Austria has fired upon the Turk.
Don John's hunting, and his hounds have bayed --
Booms away past Italy the rumour of his raid
Gun upon gun, ha! ha!
Gun upon gun, hurrah!
Don John of Austria
Has loosed the cannonade.

The Pope was in his chapel before day or battle broke,
(Don John of Austria is hidden in the smoke.)
The hidden room in man's house where God sits all the year,
The secret window whence the world looks small and very dear.
He sees as in a mirror on the monstrous twilight sea
The crescent of his cruel ships whose name is mystery;
They fling great shadows foe-wards, making Cross and Castle dark,
They veil the plumèd lions on the galley's of St. Mark;
And above the ships are palaces of brown, black-bearded chiefs,
And below the ships are prisons, where with multitudinous griefs,
Christian captives sick and sunless, all a labouring race repines
Like a race in sunken cities, like a nation in the mines.
They are lost like slaves that swat, and in the skies of morning hung
The stair-ways of the tallest gods when tyranny was young.
They are countless, voiceless, hopeless as those fallen or fleeing on
Before the high Kings' horses in the granite of Babylon.
And many a one grows witless in his quiet room in hell
Where a yellow face looks inward through the lattice of his cell,
And he finds his God forgotten, and he seeks no more a sign --
(But Don John of Austria has burst the battle-line!)
Don John pounding from the slaughter-painted poop,
Purpling all the ocean like a bloody pirate's sloop,
Scarlet running over on the silvers and the golds,
Breaking of the hatches up and bursting of the holds,
Thronging of the thousands up that labour under sea
White for bliss and blind for sun and stunned for liberty.
Vivat Hispania!
Domino Gloria!
Don John of Austria
Has set his people free!

Cervantes on his galley sets the sword back in the sheath
(Don John of Austria rides homeward with a wreath.)
And he sees across a weary land a straggling road in Spain,
Upon which a lean and foolish knight forever rides in vain,
And he smiles, but not as Sultans smile, and settles back the blade...
(But Don John of Austria rides home from the Crusade.)





-- -- --




~ By G.K. Chesterton





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Rolling English Road



BEFORE the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,
The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road.
A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire,
And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire;
A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread
The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head.

I knew no harm of Bonaparte and plenty of the Squire,
And for to fight the Frenchman I did not much desire;
But I did bash their baggonets because they came arrayed
To straighten out the crooked road an English drunkard made,
Where you and I went down the lane with ale-mugs in our hands,
The night we went to Glastonbury by way of Goodwin Sands.

His sins they were forgiven him; or why do flowers run
Behind him; and the hedges all strengthening in the sun?
The wild thing went from left to right and knew not which was which,
But the wild rose was above him when they found him in the ditch.
God pardon us, nor harden us; we did not see so clear
The night we went to Bannockburn by way of Brighton Pier.

My friends, we will not go again or ape an ancient rage,
Or stretch the folly of our youth to be the shame of age,
But walk with clearer eyes and ears this path that wandereth,
And see undrugged in evening light the decent inn of death;
For there is good news yet to hear and fine things to be seen,
Before we go to Paradise by way of Kensal Green.





-- -- --




~ By G.K. Chesterton





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






A Ballade of an Anti-Puritan

THEY spoke of Progress spiring round,
Of light and Mrs Humphrey Ward--
It is not true to say I frowned,
Or ran about the room and roared;
I might have simply sat and snored--
I rose politely in the club
And said, `I feel a little bored;
Will someone take me to a pub?'

The new world's wisest did surround
Me; and it pains me to record
I did not think their views profound,
Or their conclusions well assured;
The simple life I can't afford,
Besides, I do not like the grub--
I want a mash and sausage, `scored'--
Will someone take me to a pub?

I know where Men can still be found,
Anger and clamorous accord,
And virtues growing from the ground,
And fellowship of beer and board,
And song, that is a sturdy cord,
And hope, that is a hardy shrub,
And goodness, that is God's last word--
Will someone take me to a pub?

Envoi
Prince, Bayard would have smashed his sword
To see the sort of knights you dub--
Is that the last of them--O Lord
Will someone take me to a pub?




-- -- --




~ By G.K. Chesterton





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Elegy in a Country Churchyard

THE men that worked for England
They have their graves at home:
And birds and bees of England
About the cross can roam.

But they that fought for England,
Following a falling star,
Alas, alas for England
They have their graves afar.

And they that rule in England,
In stately conclave met,
Alas, alas for England
They have no graves as yet.




-- -- --




~ By G.K. Chesterton





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Englishman

ST George he was for England.
And before he killed the dragon
He drank a pint of English ale
Out of an English flagon.
For though he fast right readily
In hair-shirt or in mail.
It isn't safe to give him cakes
Unless you give him ale.

St George he was for England,
And right gallantly set free
The lady left for dragon's meat
And tied up to a tree;
But since he stood for England
And knew what England means,
Unless you give him bacon
You mustn't give him beans.

St George he is for England,
And shall wear the shield he wore
When we go out in armour
With the battle-cross before.
But though he is jolly company
And very pleased to dine,
It isn't safe to give him nuts
Unless you give him wine.




-- -- --




~ By G.K. Chesterton





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Wine and Water

OLD Noah he had an ostrich farm and fowls on the largest scale,
He ate his egg with a ladle in a egg-cup big as a pail.
And the soup he took was Elephant Soup and the fish he took was Whale.
But they all were small to the cellar he took when he set out to sail,
And Noah he often said to his wife when he sat down to dine,
'I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine.'

The cataract of the cliff of heaven fell blinding off the brink
As if it would wash the stars away as suds go down a sink,
The seven heavens came roaring down for the throats of hell to drink,
And Noah he cocked his eye and said, 'It looks like rain, I think.
The water has drowned the Matterhorn as deep as a Mendip mine,
But I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine.'

But Noah he sinned, and we have sinned; on tipsy feet we trod.
Till a great big black teetotaller was sent to us for a rod,
And you can't get wine at a P.S.A., or chapel, or Eisteddfod,
For the Curse of Water has come again because of the wrath of God,
And water is on the Bishop's board and the Higher Thinker's shrine,
But I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine.



-- -- --




~ By G.K. Chesterton





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Song of the Oak

THE Druids waved their golden knives
And danced around the Oak
When they had sacrificed a man;
But though the learned search and scan
No single modern person can
Entirely see the joke.
But though they cut the throats of men
They cut not down the tree,
And from the blood the saplings spring
Of oak-woods yet to be.
But Ivywood, Lord Ivywood,
He rots the tree as ivy would,
He clings and crawls as ivy would
About the sacred tree.

King Charles he fled from Worcester fight
And hid him in the Oak;
In convent schools no man of tact
Would trace and praise his every act,
Or argue that he was in fact
A strict and sainted bloke.
But not by him the sacred woods
Have lost their fancies free,
And though he was extremely big
He did not break the tree.
But Ivywood, Lord Ivywood,
He breaks the tree as ivy would,
And eats the woods as ivy would
Between us and the sea.

Great Collingwood walked down the glade
And flung the acorns free,
That oaks might still be in the grove
As oaken as the beams above,
When the great Lover sailors love
Was kissed by Death at aea.
But though for him the oak-trees fell
To build the oaken ships,
The woodman worshipped what he smote
And honoured even the chips.
But Ivywood, Lord Ivywood,
He hates the tree as ivy would,
As the dragon of the ivy would
That has us in his grips.



-- -- --




~ By G.K. Chesterton





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Song against Grocers

GOD made the wicked Grocer
For a mystery and a sign,
That men might shun the awful shops
And go to inns to dine;
Where the bacon's on the rafter
And the wine is in the wood,
And God that made good laughter
Has seen that they are good.

The evil-hearted Grocer
Would call his mother 'Ma'am,'
And bow at her and bob at her,
Her aged soul to damn,
And rub his horrid hands and ask
What article was next,
Though mortis in articulo
Should be her proper text.

His props are not his children,
But pert lads underpaid,
Who call out 'Cash!' and bang about
To work his wicked trade;
He keeps a lady in a cage
Most cruelly all day
And makes her count and calls her 'Miss'
Until she fades away.

The righteous minds of innkeepers
Induce them now and then
To crack a bottle with a friend
Or treat unmoneyed men,
But who hath seen the Grocer
Treat housemaids to his teas
Or crack a bottle of fish-sauce
Or stand a man a cheese?

He sells us sands of Araby
As sugar for cash down;
He sweeps his shop and sells the dust
The purest salt in town,
He crams with cans of poisoned meat
The subjects of the King,
And when they die my thousands
Why, he laughs like anything.

The wicked Grocer groces
In spirits and in wine,
Not frankly and in fellowship
As men in inns do dine;
But packed with soap and sardines
And carried off by grooms,
For to be snatched by Duchesses
And drunk in dressing-rooms.

The hell-instructed Grocer
Has a temple made of tin,
And the ruin of good innkeepers
Is loudly urged therein;
But now the sands are running out
From sugar of a sort,
The Grocer trembles; for his time,
Just like his weight, is short.


-- -- --




~ By G.K. Chesterton





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Road to Roundabout

SOME say that Guy of Warwick
The man that killed the Cow,
And brake the mighty Boar alive
Beyond the bridge at Slough;
Went up against a Loathly Worm
That wasted all the Downs,
And so the roads they twist and squirm
(If a may be allowed the term)
From the writhing of the stricken Worm
That died in seven towns.
I see no scientific proof
That this idea is sound,
And I should say they wound about
To find the town of Roundabout,
The merry town of Roundabout,
That makes the world go round.

Some say that Robin Goodfellow,
Whose lantern lights the meads
(To steal a phrase Sir Walter Scott
In heaven no longer needs),
Such dance around the trysting-place
The moonstruck lover leads;
Which superstition I should scout
There is more faith in honest doubt
(As Tennyson has pointed out)
Than in those nasty creeds.
But peace and righteousness (St John)
In Roundabout can kiss,
And since that's all that's found about
The pleasant town of Roundabout,
The roads they simply bound about
To find out where it is.

Some say that when Sir Lancelot
Went forth to find the Grail,
Grey Merlin wrinkled up the roads
For hope that he would fail;
All roads lead back to Lyonesse
And Camelot in the Vale,
I cannot yield assent to this
Extravagant hypothesis,
The plain, shrewd Briton will dismiss
Such rumours (Daily Mail).
But in the streets of Roundabout
Are no such factions found,
Or theories to expound about,
Or roll upon the ground about,
In the happy town of Roundabout,
That makes the world go round.



-- -- --




~ By G.K. Chesterton





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Who Goes Home?

IN the city set upon slime and loam
They cry in their parliament 'Who goes home?'
And there comes no answer in arch or dome,
For none in the city of graves goes home.
Yet these shall perish and understand,
For God has pity on this great land.

Men that are men again; who goes home?
Tocsin and trumpeter! Who goes home?
For there's blood on the field and blood on the foam
And blood on the body when Man goes home.
And a voice valedictory . . . Who is for Victory?
Who is for Liberty? Who goes home?



-- -- --




~ By G.K. Chesterton





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






A Cider Song

To J.S.M.

THE wine they drink in Paradise
They make in Haute Lorraine;
God brought it burning from the sod
To be a sign and signal rod
That they that drink the blood of God
Shall never thirst again.

The wine they praise in Paradise
They make in Ponterey,
The purple wine of Paradise,
But we have better at the price;
It's wine they praise in Paradise,
It's cider that they pray.

The wine they want in Paradise
They find in Plodder's End,
The apple wine of Herford,
Of Hafod Hill and Herford,
Where woods went down to Herford,
And there I had a friend.

The soft feet of the blessed go
In the soft western vales,
The road of the silent saints accord,
The road from heaven to Herford,
Where the apple wood of Herford
Goes all the way to Wales.


-- -- --




~ By G.K. Chesterton





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Antichrist, or the Reunion of Christendom: An Ode

'A Bill which has shocked the conscience of every Christian community in Europe.' -- Mr. F.E. Smith, on the Welsh Disestablishment Bill.

ARE they clinging to their crosses,
F.E. Smith,
Where the Breton boat-fleet tosses,
Are they, Smith?
Do they, fasting, trembling, bleeding,
Wait the news from this our city?
Groaning 'That's the Second Reading!'
Hissing 'There is still Committee!'
If the voice of Cecil falters,
If McKenna's point has pith,
Do they tremble for their altars?
Do they, Smith?

Russian peasants round their pope
Huddled, Smith,
Hear about it all, I hope,
Don't they, Smith?
In the mountain hamlets clothing
Peaks beyond Caucasian pales,
Where Establishment means nothing
And they never heard of Wales,
Do they read it all in Hansard
With a crib to read it with --
'Welsh Tithes: Dr Clifford Answered.'
Really, Smith?

In the lands where Christians were,
F.E. Smith,
In the little lands laid bare,
Smith, O Smith!
Where the Turkish bands are busy
And the Tory name is blessed
Since they hailed the Cross of Dizzy
On the banners from the West!
Men don't think it half so hard if
Islam burns their kin and kith,
Since a curate lives in Cardiff
Saved by Smith.

It would greatly, I must own,
Soothe me, Smith!
If you left this theme alone,
Holy Smith!
For your legal cause or civil
You fight well and get your fee;
For your God or dream or devil
You will answer, not to me.
Talk about the pews and steeples
And the Cash that goes therewith!
But the souls of Christian peoples . . .
Chuck it, Smith!


-- -- --




~ By G.K. Chesterton





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






A Song of Defeat

THE line breaks and the guns go under,
The lords and the lackeys ride the plain;
I draw deep breaths of the dawn and thunder,
And the whole of my heart grows young again.
For our chiefs said 'Done,' and I did not deem it;
Our seers said 'Peace,' and it was not peace;
Earth will grow worse till men redeem it,
And wars more evil, ere all wars cease.
But the old flags reel and the old drums rattle,
As once in my life they throbbed and reeled;
I have found my youth in the lost battle,
I have found my heart on the battlefield.
For we that fight till the world is free,
We are not easy in victory:
We have known each other too long, my brother,
And fought each other, the world and we.

And I dream of the days when work was scrappy,
And rare in our pockets the mark of the mint,
When we were angry and poor and happy,
And proud of seeing our names in print.
For so they conquered and so we scattered,
When the Devil road and his dogs smelt gold,
And the peace of a harmless folk was shattered;
When I was twenty and odd years old.
When the mongrel men that the market classes
Had slimy hands upon England's rod,
And sword in hand upon Afric's passes
Her last Republic cried to God.
For the men no lords can buy or sell,
They sit not easy when all goes well,
They have said to each other what naught can smother,
They have seen each other, our souls and hell.

It is all as of old, the empty clangour,
The Nothing scrawled on a five-foot page,
The huckster who, mocking holy anger,
Painfully paints his face with rage.
And the faith of the poor is faint and partial,
And the pride of the rich is all for sale,
And the chosen heralds of England's Marshal
Are the sandwich-men of the Daily Mail,
And the niggards that dare not give are glutted,
And the feeble that dare not fail are strong,
So while the City of Toil is gutted,
I sit in the saddle and sing my song.
For we that fight till the world is free,
We have no comfort in victory;
We have read each other as Cain his brother,
We know each other, these slaves and we.





-- -- --




~ By G.K. Chesterton





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The New Freethinker

JOHN Grubby who was short and stout
And troubled with religious doubt,
Refused about the age of three
To sit upon the curate's knee;
(For so the eternal strife must rage
Between the spirit of the age
And Dogma, which, as is well known,
Does simply hate to be outgrown).
Grubby, the young idea that shoots,
Outgrew the ages like old boots;
While still, to all appearance, small,
Would have no Miracles at all;
And just before the age of ten
Firmly refused Free Will to men.
The altars reeled, the heavens shook,
Just as he read of in the book;
Flung from his house went forth the youth
Alone with tempests and the Truth.
Up to the distant city and dim
Where his papa had bought for him
A partnership in Chepe and Deer
Worth, say twelve hundred pounds a year.
But he was resolute. Lord Brute
Had found him useful; and Lord Loot,
With whom few other men would act,
Valued his promptitude and tact;
Never did even philanthrophy
Enrich a man more rapidly:
'Twas he that stopped the Strike in Coal,
For hungry children racked his soul;
To end their misery there and then
He filled the mines with Chinamen
Sat in that House that broke the Kings,
And voted for all sorts of things --
And rose from Under-Sec. to Sec.
With scarce a murmur or a check.
Some grumbled. Growlers who gave less
Than generous worship to success,
The little printers in Dundee,
Who got ten years for blasphemy,
(Although he let them off with seven)
Respect him rather less than heaven.
No matter. This can still be said:
Never to supernatural dread
Never to unseen deity,
Did Sir John Grubby bend the knee;
Nor was he bribed by fabled bliss
To kneel to any world but this.
The curate lives in Camden Town,
His lap still empty of renown,
And still across the waste of years
John Grubby, in the House of Peers,
Faces that curate, proud and free,
And never sits upon his knee.




-- -- --




~ By G.K. Chesterton





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






A Hymn

O GOD of earth and altar,
Bow down and hear our cry.
Our earthly rulers falter,
Our people drift and die;
The walls of gold entomb us,
The swords of scorn divide,
Take not thy thunder from us,
But take away our pride.

From all that terror teaches,
From lies of tongue and pen,
From all the easy speeches
That comfort cruel men,
For sale and profanation
Of honour and the sword,
From sleep and from damnation,
Deliver us, good lord.

Tie in a living tether
The prince and priest and thrall,
Bind all our lives together,
Smite us and save us all;
In ire and exultation
Aflame with faith, and free,
Lift up a living nation,
A single sword to thee.



-- -- --




~ By G.K. Chesterton





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Shakespeare Memorial

LORD Lilac thought it rather rotten
That Shakespeare should be quite forgotten,
And therefore got on a Committee
With several chaps out of the City,
And Shorter and Sir Herbert Tree,
Lord Rothschild and Lord Rosebery,
And F.C.G. and Comyn Carr
Two dukes and a dramatic star,
Also a clergy man now dead;
And while the vain world careless sped
Unheeding the heroic name --
The souls most fed with Shakespeare's flame
Still sat unconquered in a ring,
Remembering him like anything.

Lord Lilac did not long remain,
Lord Lilac did not some again.
He softly lit a cigarette
And sought some other social set
Where, in some other knots or rings,
People were doing cultured things.
-- Miss Zwilt's Humane Vivarium
-- The little men that paint on gum
-- The exquisite Gorilla Girl . . .
He sometimes, in this giddy whirl
(Not being really bad at heart),
Remembered Shakespeare with a start --
But not with that grand constancy
Of Clement Shorter, Herbert Tree,
Lord Rosebery and Comyn Carr
And all the other names there are;
Who stuck like limpets to the spot,
Lest they forgot, lest they forgot.

Lord Lilac was of slighter stuff;
Lord Lilac had had quite enough.



-- -- --




~ By G.K. Chesterton





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Secret People

SMILE at us, pay us, pass us; but do not quite forget.
For we are the people of England, that never have spoken yet.
There is many a fat farmer that drinks less cheerfully,
There is many a free French peasant who is richer and sadder than we.
There are no folk in the whole world so helpless or so wise.
There is hunger in our bellies, there is laughter in our eyes;
You laugh at us and love us, both mugs and eyes are wet:
Only you do not know us. For we have not spoken yet.

The fine French kings came over in a flutter of flags and dames.
We liked their smiles and battles, but we never could say their names.
The blood ran red to Bosworth and the high French lords went down;
There was naught but a naked people under a naked crown.
And the eyes of the King's Servants turned terribly every way,
And the gold of the King's Servants rose higher every day.
They burnt the homes of the shaven men, that had been quaint and kind.
Till there was not bed in a monk's house, nor food that man could find.
The inns of God where no main paid, that were the wall of the weak,
The King's Servants ate them all. And still we did not speak.

And the face of the King's Servants grew greater than the King:
He tricked them, and they trapped him, and stood round him in a ring.
The new grave lords closed round him, that had eaten the abbey's fruits,
And the men of the new religion, with their bibles in their boots,
We saw their shoulders moving, to menace or discuss,
And some were pure and some were vile, but none took heed of us.
We saw the King as they killed him, and his face was proud and pale;
And a few men talked of freedom, while England talked of ale.

A war that we understood not came over the world and woke
Americans, Frenchmen, Irish; but we knew not the things they spoke.
They talked about rights and nature and peace and the people's reign:
And the squires, our masters, bade us fight; and never scorned us again.
Weak if we be for ever, could none condemn us then;
Men called us serfs and drudges; men knew that were were men.
In foam and flame at Trafalgar, on Albeura plains,
We did and died like lions, to keep ouselves in chains.
We lay in living ruins; firing and fearing not
The strange face of the Frenchman who know for what they fought,
And the man who seemed to be more than man we strained against and broke;
And we broke our own right with him. And still we never spoke.

Our patch of glory ended; we never heard guns again.
But the squire seemed struck in the saddle; he was foolish, as if in pain.
He leaned on a staggering lawyer, he clutched a cringing Jew,
He was stricken; it may be, after all, he was stricken at Waterloo.
Or perhaps the shades of the shaven men, whose spoil is in his house,
Come back in shining shapes at last to spil his last carouse:
We only know the last sad squires ride slowly towards the sea,
And a new people takes the land: and still it is not we.

They have given us into the hand of new unhappy lords,
Lords without anger and honour, who dare not carry their swords.
They fight by shuffling papers; they have bright dead alien eyes;
They look at our labour and laughter as a tired man looks at flies.
And the load of their loveless pity is worse than the ancient wrongs,
Their doors are shut in the evening; and they know no songs.

We hear men speaking for us of new laws strong and sweet,
Yet is there no man speaketh as we speak in the street.
It may be we shall rise the last as Frenchmen rose the first,
Our wrath come after Russia's wrath and our wrath be the worst.
It may be we are meant to mark with our riot and our rest
God's scorn for all men governing. It may be beer is best.
But we are the people of England; and we have not spoken yet.
Smile at us, pay us, pass us. But do not quite forget.



-- -- --




~ By G.K. Chesterton





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






A Ballade of Suicide

THE gallows in my garden, people say,
Is new and neat and adequately tall.
I tie the noose on in a knowing way
As one that knots his necktie for a ball;
But just as all the neighbours -- on the wall --
Are drawing a long breath to shout 'Hurray!'
The strangest whim has seized me . . . After all
I think I will not hang myself today.

Tomorrow is the time I get my pay --
My uncle's sword is hanging in the hall --
I see a little cloud all pink and grey --
Perhaps the Rector's mother will not call --
I fancy that I heard from Mr Gall
That mushrooms could be cooked another way --
I never read the works of Juvenal --
I think I will not hang myself today.

The world will have another washing day;
The decadents decay; the pedants pall;
And H.G. Wells has found that children play,
And Bernard Shaw discovered that they squall;
Rationalists are growing rational --
And through thick woods one finds a stream astray,
So secret that the very sky seems small --
I think I will not hang myself today.

Envoi
Prince, I can hear the trumpet of Germinal,
The tumbrils toiling up the terrible way;
Even today your royal head may fall --
I think I will not hang myself today.



-- -- --




~ By G.K. Chesterton





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Donkey

W HEN fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born.

With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devil's walking parody
On all four-footed things.

The tatter'd outlaw of the earth
Of ancient crooked will
Starve, scourge, deride me, I am dumb
I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.




-- -- --




~ By G.K. Chesterton





--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Song of Elf

Blue-eyed was Elf the minstrel,
With womanish hair and ring,
Yet heavy was his hand on sword,
Though light upon the string.

And as he stirred the strings of the harp
To notes but four or five,
The heart of each man moved in him
Like a babe buried alive.

And they felt the land of the folk-songs
Spread southward of the Dane
And they heard the good Rhine flowing
In the heart of all Allemagne.

They felt the land of the folk-songs,
Where the gifts hang on the tree,
Where the girls give ale at morning
And the tears come easily.

The mighty people, womanlike,
That have pleasure in their pain;
As he sang of Balder beautiful,
Whom the heavens loved in vain.

As he sang of Balder beautiful,
Whom the heavens could not save,
Till the world was like a sea of tears
And every soul a wave.

'There is always a thing forgotten
When all the world goes well
A thing forgotten, as long ago
When the gods forgot the mistletoe,
And soundless as an arrow of snow
The arrow of anguish fell.

'The thing on the blind side of the heart,
On the wrong side of the door;
The green plant groweth, menacing
Almighty lovers in the spring;
There is always a forgotten thing,
And love is not secure.'




-- -- --




~ By G.K. Chesterton





--> Man