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One Man- Thousand Feelings
Of course I miss you. I miss your laughter, your lame jokes, your touch, your voice, your brown eyes. I never stop waiting for you. Not a day goes by that I dont look at your pictures and smile. When I'm lost, I look for you. Nothing will ever change except for my love for you will grow more with each day.
I promise that I will love you for who you are. I feel the need to be with you forever. I love it when you give me your full attention. My love is not really a feeling, but its a kind of commitment to love you every day emotionally and physically when we'll be together. You're a blessing in my life.
Set My Limits
I made myself limited, limited to the words eyes and attention, there was no better creation then your presentation. The presentation of your personality was what majority never had. That was what made you limited edition
I made myself scares. I was afraid to lose myself in the darkness of the world. that is why I hid in your light for safety and warmth. In your light my eyes were open. My teacher of life. It was tough love that tought me there is no such thing as love . It was you who thought me how to fight for things that could but that was pure selfish . Who was I looking for knowledge from. A greedy human who knew nothing but herself satisfaction
I welcome you my son on earth
More especially in this continent of Africa
In a village of which her people are only warm to foreigners
Feel free my son, I am here for you
In Praise Of Limestone
If it form the one landscape that we, the inconstant ones,
Are consistently homesick for, this is chiefly
Because it dissolves in water. Mark these rounded slopes
With their surface fragrance of thyme and, beneath,
W. H. Auden
An agate-black, your roguish eyes
Claim no proud lineage of the skies,
No starry blue; but of good earth
The reckless witchery and mirth.
Madison Julius Cawein
Walking, snow falling, it is possible
to focus at various distances
in turn on separate flakes, sharply engage
the attention at several spatial points:
Bread And Jam
I wish I was a poet like the men that write in books
The poems that we have to learn on valleys, hills an' brooks;
I'd write of things that children like an' know an' understand,
An' when the kids recited them the folks would call them grand.
Edgar Albert Guest
I DON'T get much attention now,
Although I'm not complaining;
I'm forced to get on anyhow,
Another king is reigning.
Edgar Albert Guest
For longer war they came, and with a fury
That only Modred's opportunity,
Seized in the dark of Britain, could have hushed
And ended in a night. For Lancelot,
Edwin Arlington Robinson
Ye blooming youth, possest of every grace,
Which can delight the eye, or please the ear,
Who boast a polish'd mind and faultless face,
Awhile the councils of Philemon hear!
The sun went down, and the dark after it
Starred Merlin's new abode with many a sconced
And many a moving candle, in whose light
The prisoned wizard, mirrored in amazement,
Edwin Arlington Robinson
A Masque Presented At Ludlow Castle, 1634, Before
The Earl Of Bridgewater, Then President Of Wales.
They spent my life plotting against me.
With nothing to do but cultivate themselves,
but to be there, aligning their shadows,
they were planning to undo me,
The Odyssey: Book 20
Ulysses slept in the cloister upon an undressed bullock's hide, on
the top of which he threw several skins of the sheep the suitors had
eaten, and Eurynome threw a cloak over him after he had laid himself
down. There, then, Ulysses lay wakefully brooding upon the way in
Lost Mr. Blake
Mr. Blake was a regular out-and-out hardened sinner,
Who was quite out of the pale of Christianity, so to speak,
He was in the habit of smoking a long pipe and drinking a glass of
grog on a Sunday after dinner,
William Schwenck Gilbert
Truth Of The Mind
The mind is ignorant & conscious too,
Mind has a ability to judge mind itself,
When the ignorant mind overcomes you,
The conscious mind emerges & make you conscious.
Thou hast nor youth nor age
But as it were an after dinner sleep
Dreaming of both.
T. S. Eliot
A Friendly Game Of Football
We were challenged by The Dingoes - they're the pride of Squatter's Gap-
To a friendly game of football on the flat by Devil's Trap.
And we went along on horses, sworn to triumph in the game,
For the honour of Gyp's Diggings, and the glory of the same.
Edward George Dyson
Sleep fell upon my senses and I dreamed
Long years had circled since my life had fled.
The world was different, and all things seemed
Remote and strange, like noises to the dead.
The Curse Of Cromwell
You ask what-I have found, and far and wide I go:
Nothing but Cromwell's house and Cromwell's murderous crew,
The lovers and the dancers are beaten into the clay,
And the tall men and the swordsmen and the horsemen, where are they?
William Butler Yeats
They all ask me to jump
to invigorate and to play soccer,
to run, to swim and to fly.
Little Green Buttons
The honeymoon ended a decade ago,
If he still loves her he don't say so,
So she's taking her blues to the House af Tattoos,
Getting little green buttons on her birthday suit.
THE FRANK COURTSHIP.
Grave Jonas Kindred, Sybil Kindred's sire,
Was six feet high, and look'd six inches higher;
The Indiscreet Confessions
FAMED Paris ne'er within its walls had got,
Such magick charms as were Aminta's lot,
Youth, beauty, temper, fortune, she possessed,
And all that should a husband render blessed,
Jean De La Fontaine
A. You told me, I remember, glory, built
On selfish principles, is shame and guilt;
The deeds that men admire as half divine,
Stark naught, because corrupt in their design.
WHERE the red wine-cup floweth, there art thou!
Where luxury curtains out the evening sky;--
Triumphant Mirth sits flush'd upon thy brow,
And ready laughter lurks within thine eye.
Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
I might as well begin by saying how much I like the title.
It gets me right away because I'm in a workshop now
so immediately the poem has my attention,
like the Ancient Mariner grabbing me by the sleeve.
Rum And Water
Stifling was the air, and heavy; blowflies buzzed and held a levee,
And the mid-day sun shone hot upon the plains of Bungaroo,
As Tobias Mathew Carey, a devout bush missionary,
Urged his broken-winded horse towards the township of Warhoo.
Thomas E. Spencer
I remember when I wrote The Circus
I was living in Paris, or rather we were living in Paris
Janice, Frank was alive, the Whitney Museum
Was still on 8th Street, or was it still something else?
The Time hath been, a boyish, blushing Time,
When Modesty was scarcely held a crime,
When the most Wicked had some touch of grace,
And trembled to meet Virtue face to face,
Gawaine, his body trembling and his heart
Pounding as if he were a boy in battle,
Sat crouched as far away from everything
As walls would give him distance. Bedivere
Edwin Arlington Robinson