Nevermore! http://www.heise.de/ix/raven/Literature/Lore/
TheRaven.html... [show more]

Nevermore!

http://www.heise.de/...TheRaven.html [show less]

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down ... [show more]

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same, 10

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. 15

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I"
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 20 [show less]

What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore-- And then run? Does it st... [show more]

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode? [show less]

(No description provided)

I know what the caged bird feels, alas! When the sun is bright on the upland slopes; When the wind stirs soft... [show more]

I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals--
I know what the caged bird feels!

I know why the caged bird beats his wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
And they pulse again with a keener sting--
I know why he beats his wing!

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,--
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings--
I know why the caged bird sings! [show less]

by Eliza Grizwold What are we now but voices who promise each other a life neither one can deliver, not for lack of wanting ... [show more]

by Eliza Grizwold

What are we now but voices
who promise each other
a life neither one can deliver,
not for lack of wanting
but wanting cant make it so.
We hang from a vine
at the cliffs edge.
There are tigers above
and below. Let us love
one another and let go. [show less]

Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods f... [show more]

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep. [show less]

(No description provided)

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.... [show more]

'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 hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
A 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. [show less]

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done by o... [show more]

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart) [show less]

They fuck you up, your mum and dad. They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you up with faults they had And add some extra... [show more]

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you up with faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one anothers throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And dont have any kids yourself. [show less]

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I'm not cute or built to suit a model's fashion size. But when I start to tell them ... [show more]

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a model's fashion size.
But when I start to tell them
they think I'm telling lies.
I say
It's in the reach of my arms,
the span of my hips,
the stride of my steps,
the curl of my lips,
I'm a woman.
Phenomenally,
Phenomenal woman ,
that's me.

I walk into a room,
just as cool as you please,
and to a man,
the fellows stand or
fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me like
a hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes
and the flash of my teeth,
the swing of my waist,
and the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman,
Phenomenally,
Phenomenal woman,
that's me.

Men themselves have wondered
what they see in me.
They try so much
but they can't touch,
my inner mystery.
When I try to show them,
they say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
the sun of my smile,
the ride of my breasts,
the grace of my style.
I'm a woman.
Phenomenally,
Phenomenal woman,
that's me.

Now you understand
just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about,
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing,
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
the bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
the need for my care.
'Cause I'm a woman.
Phenomenally,
Phenomenal woman,
that's me. [show less]

The leaves on the trees in colorful repose cascading and swirling, paint their way to the ground like the path to you I found. ... [show more]

The leaves on the trees in colorful repose
cascading and swirling, paint their way to
the ground like the path to you I found.
I fall for you.

Blue sky clouds and misty days of dew slip
blankets of covering comfort to envelope,
the way I love you.

Orange sunrise, peach sunset.
Not a day past without the warmth
of the Son in you.
Blessing me from the moment I saw
your lovely face. Thank God we met.

Snow banks white billowing drifts
trips and dips and spills in
thankfulness for friendships gifted
Grateful for your love.

Winds blow changing times into our lives,
days of new reasons to live.
My heart is alive and it's to you that I give
Spend time with me. I'll spend it with you.

Waxing moon swells like my heart
reminding me how much you mean to me
Glimmering shining sliver of light
Brightness that you are my love, lighting my night

Thanks be to God for His grace and love
without it we would not have been blessed
with you and me. Together we are the gift.
God's gift of love. [show less]

(No description provided)

If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men dou... [show more]

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son! [show less]

If I were young as once I was, and dreams and death more distant then, I wouldn't split my soul in two, and keep half in ... [show more]

If I were young as once I was,

and dreams and death more distant then,

I wouldn't split my soul in two,

and keep half in the world of men,

So half of me would stay at home,

and strive for Farie in vain,

While all the while my soul would stroll

up narrow path, down crooked lane,

And there would meet a fairy lass

and smile and bow with kisses three,

She'd pluck wild eagles from the air

and nail me to a lightning tree

And if my heart would run from her

or flee from her, be gone from her,

Shed wrap it in a nest of stars

and then she'd take it on with her

Until one day she'd tire of it,

all bored with it and done with it.

She'd leave it by a burning brook,

and off brown boys would run with it.

They'd take it and have fun with it

and stretch it long and cruel and thin,

They'd slice it into four and then

they'd string with it a violin.

And every day and every night

they'd play upon my heart a song

So plaintive and so wild and strange

that all who heard it danced along

And sang and whirled and sank and trod

and skipped and slipped and reeled and rolled

Until, with eyes as bright as coals,

they'd crumble into wheels of gold . . . .



But I am young no longer now,

for sixty years my heart's been gone

To play its dreadful music there,

beyond the valley of the sun.

I watch with envious eyes and mind,

the single"souled, who dare not feel

The wind that blows beyond the moon,

who do not hear the Fairy Reel.

If you don't hear the Fairy Reel,

they will not pause to steal your breath.

When I was young I was a fool.

So wrap me up in dreams and death. [show less]

http://en.wikisource...rass/Book_III

If you puke on me I will cover it with velvet and sequins and sell it back to you. --The Nixon Poems, 1971... [show more]

If you puke on me
I will cover it with velvet and sequins
and sell it back to you.

--The Nixon Poems, 1971 [show less]

http://members.tripo...oems/howl.txt

Emily Dickinson

http://hobbes.ncsa.uiuc.edu/desiderata.html

I had a dream, which was not all a dream. The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal spac... [show more]

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;

Morn came and went -and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chilled into a selfish prayer for light;

And they did live by watchfires -and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings -the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed,
And men were gathered round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other's face;

Happy were those which dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanoes, and their mountain-torch;
A fearful hope was all the world contained;
Forests were set on fire -but hour by hour
They fell and faded -and the crackling trunks
Extinguished with a crash -and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light

Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them: some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled;

And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnashed their teeth and howled; the wild birds shrieked,

And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawled
And twined themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless -they were slain for food;

And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again; -a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought -and that was death,

Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails -men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devoured,

Even dogs assailed their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famished men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the drooping dead
Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answered not with a caress -he died.

The crowd was famished by degrees; but two
Of an enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies: they met beside
The dying embers of an altar-place
Where had been heaped a mass of holy things
For an unholy usage: they raked up,

And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other's aspects -saw, and shrieked, and died -

Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless -
A lump of death -a chaos of hard clay.

The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirred within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
And their masts fell down piecemeal; as they dropped

They slept on the abyss without a surge -
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The Moon, their mistress, had expired before;
The winds were withered in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perished! Darkness had no need
Of aid from them -She was the Universe! [show less]

by Mervyn Peake Out of the chaos of my doubt And the chaos of my art I turn to you inevitably As the needle to the pole Tur... [show more]

by Mervyn Peake

Out of the chaos of my doubt
And the chaos of my art
I turn to you inevitably
As the needle to the pole
Turns... as the cold brain to the soul
Turns in its uncertainty;

So I turn and long for you;
So I long for you, and turn
To the love that through my chaos
Burns a truth,
And lights my path. [show less]

Call the roller of big cigars, The muscular one, and bid him whip In kitchen cups concupiscent curds. Let the wenches dawdle in... [show more]

Call the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one, and bid him whip
In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.
Let the wenches dawdle in such dress
As they are used to wear, and let the boys
Bring flowers in last month's newspapers.
Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.

Take from the dresser of deal,
Lacking the three glass knobs, that sheet
On which she embroidered fantails once
And spread it so as to cover her face.
If her horny feet protrude, they come
To show how cold she is, and dumb.
Let the lamp affix its beam.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream. [show less]

Three matches one by one struck in the night The first to see your face in it's entirety The second to see your eyes The last t... [show more]

Three matches one by one struck in the night
The first to see your face in it's entirety
The second to see your eyes
The last to see your mouth
And the darkness all around to remind me of all these
As I hold you in my arms.

http://www.ductape.net/~mass/poem3a.html#PO [show less]

An orange upon the table Your dress on the rug And you in my bed Sweet present of the present Freshness of the night Warmth o... [show more]

An orange upon the table
Your dress on the rug
And you in my bed
Sweet present of the present
Freshness of the night
Warmth of my life.

http://www.ductape.net/~mass/poem3a.html#AM

The pic is of the city Alicante, Spain (hence the title). [show less]

By Brent Henry Published in "Twilight Musings" The International Libary of Poetry... [show more]

By Brent Henry
Published in "Twilight Musings"
The International Libary of Poetry [show less]

Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leafs a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides t... [show more]

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leafs a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay. [show less]

"Thou thoughest that I was altogether such a one as thyself"
Psalm 50.21

among several of his works