by ashitaka 46 Replies latest social entertainment
Very nice everyone,Ashi,you're good. Does anyone like Rossetti?
I have no wit, no words, no tears;
My heart within me like a stone
is numbed too much for hopes or fears
Look right' look left' I dwell alone
I lift mine eyes, but dimmed with grief
No ever lasting hills i see
my life is in the falling leaf
O Jesus quicken me.
STARS......annon
as beacons flared in sudden hope
they cause my heart and eye to gaze
and i will watch forever more
or then till mornings early haze
GREETING..........bye some arab bloke
i send you salams as many as birds fly
as many as there are stars in the sky
I love the Moxon Tennyson rossetti did stuff in their.id buy it if it did take a years wage.
one of the most beautifully illustrated books ever.........
I call this one. A love song for the depressed
Oh I love you
No you don't you want my money
I think you're beautiful!
You only want sex. Admit it.
You have a wonderful personality!
I hate myself and you hate me too
I love you!!
No you don't.
Fine then!! I'm leaving!!
I knew it.
haha, right on naebs!
so is this like the continuation of
I love you.
No you don't
Yes I do.
Do you?No.
THE NEGRO SPEAKS OF RIVERS
By Langston Hughes
I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow
of human blood in human veins.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln went
down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy bosom turn
all golden in the sunset.
I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
An old favorite of mine.
ONE....
bigboi
Our Forever Song
The cherished secret of silent song,
two hearts as one entwined belong.
Building love where there is none.
Two hearts they write as if but one.
Dreaming thoughts of living free.
Unbridled worlds of fantasy,
floating in our heart and mind,
forbidden love and distant time.
If but once I walked into
the secret life inside of you
& looked & touched & heard your song
would I forever there belong?
Copyright ©2001 IMBlueFire
Bigboi,
When I was young I thought that poem was boring, but it's so beauitful...
Here's another from the ashi vaults
....................
A Woman
Your face on light,
smooth like an ancient canyon well,
Rich wind through leaves.
Treasure below your eyes
rising from your skin
the bones of your face.
Painted like a ghost on glass
My ever haunted image
Of a woman.
it's great to be seen....especially by you
should I tell everyone about us?
nah it'll be our little secret
I didnt know you wrote poems wow great one
YOU GO GIRL!!-WTLies
haha William ... where have you been??? I missed your post (sorry) Looking forward to hearing LOTS from you in the near future! *smiles* I have two names on this board...(i'm not a troll...it just happened) I'll be merging myself soon, I heard it gives Simon a headache.
edited..cuz it looks like they caught me stealing bandwidth from the bumper sticker site. *sigh*
Two more of Mommie's tuneless ditties...
The Sea
You hypnotize me
with your gentle insistent kiss,
and draw me deep and deeper
through the shattering moonlight on your skin
toward the tropic heat of a distant sea bed.
Your mouth on my skin
moves like waves on the shore,
returning persistently,
with the surf's rhythm,
gently nibbling the sand of sanity
from beneath my fevered flesh,
pulling me into your sea;
we are limned with phosphorescence
from the foamig depth of your desire.
I swim along coral reefs
in the greenish glimmering depths.
I may drown in these sea-caves
when the tide turns;
you have lured me forever beyond safe return.
Your passion is strewn with memory's jetsam:
gold, rotting lace, and crumbling bones
of old love affairs.
******
Your Silence
Your silence is so cold,
my breath steams around it.
I spoke harshly,
some mayfly complaint,
and you took the anger and sealed it
in that cave where you store your grudges,
that subterranean icebox
where you store your grievances
whole, intact, for seemingly ever.
Your silence seals the tomb,
but you cannot keep the cold
from seeping out
around the tight gaskets
of your lips.
I am ready for forgiveness,
for warm sunsine on my face,
but you hoard the cold silence
as if it could nourish you
when I am gone
some lonely winter day.
*****
Cool stuff again, guys.
Here's one from WB Yeats.
The Man Who Dreamed Of Faeryland
HE stood among a crowd at Dromahair;
His heart hung all upon a silken dress,
And he had known at last some tenderness,
Before earth took him to her stony care;
But when a man poured fish into a pile,
It Seemed they raised their little silver heads,
And sang what gold morning or evening sheds
Upon a woven world-forgotten isle
Where people love beside the ravelled seas;
That Time can never mar a lover's vows
Under that woven changeless roof of boughs:
The singing shook him out of his new ease.
He wandered by the sands of Lissadell;
His mind ran all on money cares and fears,
And he had known at last some prudent years
Before they heaped his grave under the hill;
But while he passed before a plashy place,
A lug-worm with its grey and muddy mouth
Sang that somewhere to north or west or south
There dwelt a gay, exulting, gentle race
Under the golden or the silver skies;
That if a dancer stayed his hungry foot
It seemed the sun and moon were in the fruit:
And at that singing he was no more wise.
He mused beside the well of Scanavin,
He mused upon his mockers: without fail
His sudden vengeance were a country tale,
When earthy night had drunk his body in;
But one small knot-grass growing by the pool
Sang where - unnecessary cruel voice -
Old silence bids its chosen race rejoice,
Whatever ravelled waters rise and fall
Or stormy silver fret the gold of day,
And midnight there enfold them like a fleece
And lover there by lover be at peace.
The tale drove his fine angry mood away.
He slept under the hill of Lugnagall;
And might have known at last unhaunted sleep
Under that cold and vapour-turbaned steep,
Now that the earth had taken man and all:
Did not the worms that spired about his bones
proclaim with that unwearied, reedy cry
That God has laid His fingers on the sky,
That from those fingers glittering summer runs
Upon the dancer by the dreamless wave.
Why should those lovers that no lovers miss
Dream, until God burn Nature with a kiss?
The man has found no comfort in the grave.
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