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Leisure by W. H. Davies
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
Ian
New Zealand - Monday, December 23, 2002 at 04:25:29 (EST)
there once was a pig called sam,
who got in a terrible jam.
he was fattened real nice,
and pickled with spice.
now poor sam is a ham
siobhan
<sio123@hotmail.com>
scotland - Thursday, December 19, 2002 at 14:11:43 (EST)
I'm looking for a poem that has a line "the love of one drunk for another"
I have no more information! IT'S FRUSTRATING but the friend who gave me the
line knows in his heart the poem exists. I'd love give him the gift. Do you
have suggestions about how/where I might search?
Very kind wishes.
Bob
<rjfadams@comcast.net>
Nashville, TN USA - Monday, December 16, 2002 at 23:50:19 (EST)
Nobody Knows It But Me
-Patrick O'Leary
There's a place that I travel,
When I want to roam
And nobody knows it but me.
The roads don't go there,
And the signs stay home
And nobody knows it but me.
It's far far away,
And way way afar
It's over the moon and the sea.
And where ever you are going,
That's where you are
And nobody knows it but me.
Kathy Curley
<katie_did40@yahoo.com>
Washington, NJ USA - Thursday, December 05, 2002 at 08:52:37 (EST)
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Nigel Taylor
<nigeltaylor@ntlworld.com>
Binfield, UK - Friday, November 29, 2002 at 17:42:39 (EST)
Let Me Be
Boxed in
Full of sin
Ready to get out
Ready to shout
To breath the air
To see and care
Why don't they just let me be
Why don't they just let me see
Because one day fear will override
One day fear will choose my side
My fear is my light
My fear is my right
We live in a world of race
We live in a world of judging a face
As i look in the miror
I wonder why so many live in fear
They fear the darkness
They fear the light
They fear they're own sight
Jade Young
<Miss_Princess27@hotmail.com>
Regina, Canada - Wednesday, November 27, 2002 at 21:58:02 (EST)
MY FAVORITE POEM IS PHENOMENAL WOMAN BY MAYA ANGELOU
CASSANDRA WILLIAMS
<mspeaches57@hotmail.com>
Mississippi State, MS USA - Monday, November 04, 2002 at 23:33:21 (EST)
Friend Will You Forgive Me?
I want to run
I want to hide
I want to get away from here
What should I do about missing you?
Yeah I really miss you
I really hope you miss me to
I didn't mean the things I said to you
Instead of being your friend I turned and ran
I hope you forgive me
Cause I really miss you
You were the friend I never knew I had
Until I said goodbye
I didn't think I would miss you so much
But I do miss you
I sit up every night wondering why I said goodbye to the friend I had
So I'am asking you to forgive me and to be my friend again
I was blind and confessed and didn't know exactly what to do I guess I was
scared of you
I think that's why I turned and run
I should of never listen to my friends and what they said bout you
I hope you will still be my friend
Cause I know I will never be the same again knowing that you are not my friend
Just because we are different does not mean, I can't be your friend
I hope you will still be my friend cause
I'll be your friend till the end
I know I brought this on my self by telling you to go away
But I' am asking you will you be my friend again?
When I wrote that letter saying
I didn't want to be your friend
I wasn't really mad at you
I was really mad at the people who told me to stay away from you.
I hate the facts but they are true because one of my friends is dating you
and the other one is hating you.
I don't care if you are dating one of my friends, because all I want is
for us to be friends again
All I want now is for you to forgive me and hopefully forget what happened
in the past
I really wish we could start over again as friends.
But we can't start over yet because you have not forgiven me
You probably never ever will forgive me because of what I said and did
But I understand if you never ever want to see me again
So now if you haven't forgiven me yet then
I'll have to go down on my hands and knees and beg for your forgiveness
and then I'll ask you again will you forgive me friend???
Karaletta
<talkgirl2003_2003@yahoo.com
>
Kansas City , Mo USA - Thursday, October 03, 2002 at 20:13:22 (EDT)
When the airless wind shall sing,
When the broken circle mends,
When the brittle night creeps softly through the void,
I will yet remember thee.
Robin Chase
<gil_t_boy2002@yahoo.com>
Winnipeg, Mb Canada - Wednesday, October 02, 2002 at 13:42:46 (EDT)
Alwayz an forever
Altho it may seem,
dat I don care,
And altho it may seem
dat when u need me
I wont be dere,
Jus puth ur faith in me,
and in da end,I promise,
I wont turn my back on u
ever again
and I will forever
be ur angel.
In my heart I know
it will be u
whom I will love,
Alwayz an forever.
By: angel_pryde66
angel_pryde
<sweet_melody25@hotmail.com>
Yigo, Guam USA - Friday, September 06, 2002 at 06:27:01 (EDT)
True Love
Writtin with a pen,
Sealed with a kiss,
If u love me Please
answer dis,
Do u love me?
or do u not?
u told me once but I forgot
so tell me now
and tell me true
so I can say I love.
Of all da people I ever met
ur the one I'll neva forget
And if I die befor u do
I'll go to heaven an wait for u
but if ur not dere on judgement day.
I'll know u went da other way.
I'll give d angels back dere wings,
And risk da loss of everything,
To prove to u my love is true,
I'll go to hell jus to be with you.
Yvette Pil
<babyvette12@hotmail.com>
yigo, guam USA - Friday, September 06, 2002 at 06:17:57 (EDT)
THE SONG OF THE SWORD
William Ernest Henley
The Sword
Singing -
The voice of the Sword from the heart of the Sword
Clanging imperious
Forth from Time's battlements
His ancient and triumphing Song.
In the beginning,
Ere God inspired Himself
Into the clay thing
Thumbed to His image,
The vacant, the naked shell
Soon to be Man:
Thoughtful He pondered it,
Prone there and impotent,
Fragile, inviting
Attack and discomfiture;
Then, with a smile -
As He heard in the Thunder
That laughed over Eden
The voice of the Trumpet,
The iron Beneficence,
Calling his dooms
To the Winds of the world -
Stooping, He drew
On the sand with His finger
A shape for a sign
Of his way to the eyes
That in wonder should waken,
For a proof of His will
To the breaking intelligence.
That was the birth of me:
I am the Sword.
Bleak and lean, grey and cruel,
Short-hilted, long shafted,
I froze into steel;
And the blood of my elder,
His hand on the hafts of me,
Sprang like a wave
In the wind, as the sense
Of his strength grew to ecstasy;
Glowed like a coal
In the throat of the furnace;
As he knew me and named me
The War-Thing, the Comrade,
Father of honour
And giver of kingship,
The fame-smith, the song-master,
Bringer of women
On fire at his hands
For the pride of fulfilment,
PRIEST (saith the Lord)
OF HIS MARRIAGE WITH VICTORY
Ho! then, the Trumpet,
Handmaid of heroes,
Calling the peers
To the place of espousals!
Ho! then, the splendour
And glare of my ministry,
Clothing the earth
With a livery of lightnings!
Ho! then, the music
Of battles in onset,
And ruining armours,
And God's gift returning
In fury to God!
Thrilling and keen
As the song of the winter stars,
Ho! then, the sound
Of my voice, the implacable
Angel of Destiny! -
I am the Sword.
Heroes, my children,
Follow, O, follow me!
Follow, exulting
In the great light that breaks
From the sacred Companionship!
Thrust through the fatuous,
Thrust through the fungous brood,
Spawned in my shadow
And gross with my gift!
Thrust through, and hearken
O, hark, to the Trumpet,
The Virgin of Battles,
Calling, still calling you
Into the Presence,
Sons of the Judgment,
Pure wafts of the Will!
Edged to annihilate,
Hilted with government,
Follow, O, follow me,
Till the waste places
All the grey globe over
Ooze, as the honeycomb
Drips, with the sweetness
Distilled of my strength,
And, teeming in peace
Through the wrath of my coming,
They give back in beauty
The dread and the anguish
They had of me visitant!
Follow, O follow, then,
Heroes, my harvesters!
Where the tall grain is ripe
Thrust in your sickles!
Stripped and adust
In a stubble of empire,
Scything and binding
The full sheaves of sovranty:
Thus, O, thus gloriously,
Shall you fulfil yourselves!
Thus, O, thus mightily,
Show yourselves sons of mine -
Yea, and win grace of me:
I am the Sword!
I am the feast-maker:
Hark, through a noise
Of the screaming of eagles,
Hark how the Trumpet,
The mistress of mistresses,
Calls, silver-throated
And stern, where the tables
Are spread, and the meal
Of the Lord is in hand!
Driving the darkness,
Even as the banners
And spears of the Morning;
Sifting the nations,
The slag from the metal,
The waste and the weak
From the fit and the strong;
Fighting the brute,
The abysmal Fecundity;
Checking the gross,
Multitudinous blunders,
The groping, the purblind
Excesses in service
Of the Womb universal,
The absolute drudge;
Firing the charactry
Carved on the World,
The miraculous gem
In the seal-ring that burns
On the hand of the Master -
Yea! and authority
Flames through the dim,
Unappeasable Grisliness
Prone down the nethermost
Chasms of the Void! -
Clear singing, clean slicing;
Sweet spoken, soft finishing;
Making death beautiful,
Life but a coin
To be staked in the pastime
Whose playing is more
Than the transfer of being;
Arch-anarch, chief builder,
Prince and evangelist,
I am the Will of God:
I am the Sword.
The Sword
Singing -
The voice of the Sword from the heart of the Sword
Clanging majestical,
As from the starry-staired
Courts of the primal Supremacy,
His high, irresistible song.
Who Is John Galt
<Secret@No.com>
San Fransisco, CA USA - Tuesday, August 20, 2002 at 17:09:22 (EDT)
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