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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.
Some things sometimes feel like a black hole
A dream that cannot be shaken off
Yet we depend on it to survive
Love is a feeling that connects hearts
A friend I lost, a friend so close,
A friend I cared about the most.
A friend I loved, cherished like a rose,
A friend I admired, beyond words.
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
Wouldst thou be taught, when sleep has taken flight,
By a sure voice that can most sweetly tell,
How far off yet a glimpse of morning light,
And if to lure the truant back be well,
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-
Deep In Silence
i stared at all my stars as each one fell to the ground
i opened my mouth to scream but failed to make a single sound
The serpent's tail wrapped all around my body as i fight to breathe
Making all these decisions, contemplating, wondering where they'll all lead
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
The Sea Wind
I am a pool in a peaceful place,
I greet the great sky face to face,
I know the stars and the stately moon
And the wind that runs with rippling shoon-
What I Miss
I miss the taste of wine,
Cakes with cherries on top.
I miss the dust on a line
Which never seemed enough.
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
They brought the mighty chief to town;
They showed him strange, unwonted sights;
Yet as he wandered up and down,
He seemed to scorn their vain delights.
Life, Love And Lessons
Life has changed in many ways,
But thoughts of you stayed the same.
I lost count in the number of days,
But each day my love grew like a flame.
But see! . . . the body does not sink;
It rides upon the tide
(A starbeam on the dagger's haft),
With staring eyes and wide . . .
my striking empathy
wake and skate my day
i have a gush to redden
when fairness of earth embedded like deluge
The touch of your lips
The flow of your hips
The curvature of your bosom
The flawlessness of your bottom
The Printing Machine
It begins at the brink of the dawn,
with the sound of chrring printing machine.
Chrring bloody scenes into bold black ink and we drink to that ink that make our stomach sink yet the machine harps happily.
and there goes the busy printing machine louder and louder, More louder than the screams of a woman screaming for help in a warehouse while she was raped, brutally but the fair and lovely ad gets more space snootily and strangly we go on reading the newspaper with our daily cup of tea perpetually.
Did you ever looked at the artwork
And wished it was a reality ?
Did you ever wanted to immerse in it ,and become onesss with a painting ?
Did you ever heard the rytmic sound of poems in the poetry book playing only for you ?
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.
Is it not strange? A year ago to-day,
With scarce a thought beyond the hum-drum round,
I did my decent job and earned my pay;
Was averagely happy, I'll be bound.
She is hot to the sea that crouches beside,
Human and hot to the cool stars peering down,
My passionate city, my quivering town,
And her dark blood, tide upon purple tide,
Small, shapeless drifts of cloud
Sail slowly northward in the soft-hued sky,
With blur half-tints and rolling summits bright,
By the late sun caressed; slight hazes shroud
A Rainy Day
Oh, what a blessed interval
A rainy day may be!
No lightning flash nor tempest roar,
But one incessant, steady pour
Venus And Adonis
Even as the sun with purple-coloured face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheeked Adonis hied him to the chase;
Hunting he loved, but love he laughed to scorn.
Addressed to Francis Greenleaf Allison of Burlington, New Jersey.
You scarcely need my tardy thanks,
Who, self-rewarded, nurse and tend--
John Greenleaf Whittier
The Old Grey Mare
There's a line of rails on an upland green
With a good take-off and a landing sound,
Six fences grim as were ever seen,
And it's there I would be with fox and hound.
R. C. Lehmann
Changes Building Up
Maybe the only thing keeping me here
The thought of never being able to exist again
I’d be long gone if it was a different concept
If existence was possible even after going six feet underground