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Way To Go
She was born in the hills
dotted with villages quiet and small.
Her village was breathtakingly beautiful
With a scenic landscape,
C K Rawat
A red-roofed house is shining to the skies;
A house red-roofed and brilliant in the wind:
A house of colour filled with wandering eyes;
And all the eyes are blind.
The Old Survey
Our money's all spent, to the deuce went it!
The landlord, he looks glum,
On the tap-room wall, in a very bad scrawl,
He has chalked to us a sum.
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
WHEN night drifts along the streets of the city,
And sifts down between the uneven roofs,
My mind begins to peek and peer.
It plays at ball in old, blue Chinese gardens,
A Servant To Servants
I didn't make you know how glad I was
To have you come and camp here on our land.
I promised myself to get down some day
And see the way you lived, but I don't know!
In the room we stood
Silent: The room was confined in a grave
Faced each other
We made no moves
You are the flame in my candle,
that lights the darkness of my room.
You are the scented flowers,
that makes my heart full bloom.
The other day as I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room
bouncing from typewriter to piano
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
I looked up the sky
and I saw the sadness of the moon
garzing at the cloud crying to give
light to its lover and shield away
Pray For Me
She rushed into a house
darkghost where haltup
evildims where hiddown
Her room was tumultly dreadful
Saviour A Willie
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.
I Am A Killer
My name is depression and I am a killer,
I am everywhere, I am the darkness, the grief, the sadness.
Once I enter your head, it would be hard for you to get me off of your system.
Although you sit in a room that is gray,
Except for the silver
Of the straw-paper,
Scenes From The Heaven [kashmir]
Oh! the dreamers of heaven, have you just dreamt of heaven?
Have you seen it? Have you felt it?
Obviously not, So here am I
Here I am the one who has seen the scenes of heaven.
The Old Huntsman
I've never ceased to curse the day I signed
A seven years' bargain for the Golden Fleece.
'Twas a bad deal all round; and dear enough
It cost me, what with my daft management,
Last, to the chamber where I lie
My fearful footsteps patter nigh,
And come out from the cold and gloom
Into my warm and cheerful room.
Robert Louis Stevenson
The Sunshine Cat
They did this to her, the men who know her, the man
She loved, who loved her not enough, being selfish
And a coward, the husband who neither loved nor
Used her, but was a ruthless watcher, and the band
O Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes;
Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, Earth;
Lie close around her; leave no room for mirth
With its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs.
I don't see why Pa likes him so,
And seems so glad to have him come;
He jabs my ribs and wants to know
If here and there it's hurting some.
Edgar Albert Guest
We have tested and tasted too much, lover-
Through a chink too wide there comes in no wonder.
But here in the Advent-darkened room
Where the dry black bread and the sugarless tea
The forest ended. Glad I was
To feel the light, and hear the hum
Of bees, and smell the drying grass
And the sweet mint, because I had come
He was our leader and our guide;
He was our saviour and our star.
We walked in friendship by his side,
Yet set him where our heroes are.
Today I pass the time reading
a favorite haiku,
saying the few words over and over.
One day to me in my dim room, a dream.
Three days later, a nightmare
The mountain held the town as in a shadow
I saw so much before I slept there once:
I noticed that I missed stars in the west,
Where its black body cut into the sky.
D E A T H
Death is but a second stage
Sanctified by God for eternal bliss.
A stage in paradise with a dulcet slumber,
That everyone get ere the judgement.
The Tripodal Firestones
Women! You are like our tripodal Firestones
Blackened by service; confined within
The ashen heat of your masters,
Burning with broken promises and matrimonial taboos
She was dragged into pain,
Her heart in bitter ordain,
And her dress, wet with tears,
That flow from heart bars,
Yesterday, I lay awake in the palm of the night.
A soft rain stole in, unhelped by any breeze,
I ask not that my bed of death
From bands of greedy heirs be free;
For these besiege the latest breath
Of fortune's favoured sons, not me.
A Basket Of Summer Fruit
First see those ample melons-brindled o'er
With mingled green and brown is all the rind;
For they are ripe, and mealy at the core,
And saturate with the nectar of their kind.
People pray to each other. The way I say 'you' to someone else,
respectfully, intimately, desperately. The way someone says
'you' to me, hopefully, expectantly, intensely ...