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Sleep, let me sleep, for I am sick of care;
Sleep, let me sleep, for my pain wearies me.
Shut out the light; thicken the heavy air
With drowsy incense; let a distant stream
The room is full of you!-As I came in
And closed the door behind me, all at once
A something in the air, intangible,
Yet stiff with meaning, struck my senses sick!-
Edna St. Vincent Millay
My Super Man
In the dreams I dream
Only you visible in thee
My perfect human
With a pale skin you were handsomely made
Machineel In A Cassock
The guiltless shepherd
is a collared machineel in a cassock
He bears pretty tasty apples
That accord him innocent and benovelent looks
Butterflies are white and blue
In this field we wander through.
Suffer me to take your hand.
Death comes in a day or two.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Do memories last forever?
This thought runs through the mind of thinkers.
Memories are destined to fade,
But your most important memories,
You lived for a short while and then you left me alone
I was not prepared for your demise
It came with its shock
And it still shocks
People that build their houses inland,
People that buy a plot of ground
Shaped like a house, and build a house there,
Far from the sea-board, far from the sound
Edna St. Vincent Millay
What Is Time?
a running track, that clock's good and bad
minute of temptations and trials
seconds of death and judgment
Afe Tosin Shola
We stood among the boats and nets . . .
We marked the risen moon
Walk swaying o'er the trembling seas
As one sways in a swoon;
What language do you speak
To instruct the sky to stay meek,
With which you sweeten the lovely air.
Her baby was so full of glee,
And through the day
It laughed and babbled on her knee
In happy play.
Our Mothers, lovely women pitiful;
Our Sisters, gracious in their life and death;
To us each unforgotten memory saith:
“Learn as we learned in life's sufficient school,
Some sigh for this and that,
My wishes don't go far;
The world may wag at will,
So I have my cigar.
In The Bayou
Lazy and slow, through the snags and trees
Move the sluggish currents, half asleep;
Around and between the cypress knees,
Like black, slow snakes the dark tides creep-
I see a dysfunctional future
Wailing in hunger. Many tongues scrabbling for a single bone
Living corpses pile the street.
I hear soothsayers boast in their ignorance and claim a stolen future
Love Lies Bleeding
You call it, "Love lies bleeding," so you may,
Though the red Flower, not prostrate, only droops,
As we have seen it here from day to day,
From month to month, life passing not away:
Only a second apart raindrops will touch the ground
Making a sound of peace for all around
For peace was the image he had in mind when he created the ground
But the only mistake he made was the beings he situated on the ground
Hear now a curious dream I dreamed last night,
Each word whereof is weighed and sifted truth.
I stood beside Euphrates while it swelled
The shutter of my eyes
have crossed all thier lines
into endless peace
but have cost me my scars
Every soul shall have the taste of Death,
Life is a precious gift,
Live everyday as it is your last day on Earth,
You are unique, a masterpiece
Here alone it makes me feel bad.
Mostly when i keep thinking about the plans we had, sad.
My heart is broken, no craft maker would even fix it.
All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
Are all but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Now while my lips are living
Their words must stay unsaid,
And will my soul remember
To speak when I am dead?
"Oh, show me how a rose can shut and be a bud again!"
Nay, watch my Lords of the Admiralty, for they have the work in train.
They have taken the men that were careless lads at Dartmouth in 'Fourteen
And entered them at the landward schools as though no war had been.
Love Will Wane
When your love begins to wane,
Spare me from the cruel pain
Of all speech that tells me so -
Spare me words, for I shall know,
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Michael: A Pastoral Poem
If from the public way you turn your steps
Up the tumultuous brook of Green-head Ghyll,
You will suppose that with an upright path
Your feet must struggle; in such bold ascent
16 Minutes Of Life
16 minutes of life
He is fidgeting uncontrollably, breathing slowly but the alarm clocks harps happily.
Indicating 16 minutes of more pain..
Through the chaos of nerves in his brain he calculates the time, revaluates his plan and awaits death.
My death is an excuse,
Some sleepy sleeping people have to wake up.
Mother, do not think that the red will hang on you hanging on the hanging, you just see how many young people will bleed the cold by watching them hang on a hanging trap.
Even after my death, Iqbalab will speak every stroke of my blood's blood.