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| Daily Poetry Ends All that we did here — talking, reading, sleeping — I thought was a building of sorts, but the doors grew tired and flew away in search of another house. — So many names whose bodies are gone. They are jars we store in dark closets, but sometimes light gets in and they shine. Ocean — all day — doing its grand back and forth, and from the shore fire watched, diminishing, then our breaths applauded and were gone as we began to rehearse the different versions. Each of us dressed as a season, then waited to change or be changed while the snow on that hill resembled an enormous egg whose green wings were already ahead of the melting story, the one that will never rise. Mark Irwin Son Düzenleyen Hi-LaL; 23-03-2007 @ 00:00. | |
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| | #2 (mesaj-linki) | |
| Cvp: Daily Poetry... Love Unexpressed The sweetest notes among the human heart-strings are dull with rust; The sweetest chords, adjusted by the angels, are clogged with dust; We pipe and pipe again our dreary music upon the self-same strains, While sounds of crime, and fear, and desolation, come back in sad refrains. On through the world we go, an army marching with listening ears, Each longing, sighing, for the heavenly music he never hears; Each longing, sighing, for a word of comfort, a word of tender praise, A word of love, to cheer the endless journey of earth's hard, busy days. They love us, and we know it; this suffices for reason's share. Why should they pause to give that love expression with gentle care? Why should they pause? But still our hearts are aching with all the gnawing pain Of hungry love that longs to hear the music, and longs and longs in vain. We love them, and they know it; if we falter, with fingers numb, Among the unused strings of love's expression, the notes are dumb. We shrink within ourselves in voiceless sorrow, leaving the words unsaid, And, side by side with those we love the dearest, in silence on we tread. Thus on we tread, and thus each heart in silence its fate fulfils, Waiting and hoping for the heavenly music beyond the distant hills. The only difference of the love in heaven from love on earth below Is: Here we love and know not how to tell it, and there we all shall know. Constance Fenimore Woolson | |
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| | #3 (mesaj-linki) | |
| Cvp: Daily Poetry... Adam's Complaint Denise Levertov Some people, no matter what you give them, still want the moon. The bread, the salt, white meat and dark, still hungry. The marriage bed and the cradle, still empty arms. You give them land, their own earth under their feet, still they take to the roads. And water: dig them the deepest well, still it's not deep enough to drink the moon from. | |
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| | #4 (mesaj-linki) | |
| Cvp: Daily Poetry... Tears, Idle Tears Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more. Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds To dying ears, when unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square; So sad, so strange, the days that are no more. Dear as remembered kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more! Alfred, Lord Tennyson | |
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| | #5 (mesaj-linki) | |
| Cvp: Daily Poetry... Alone by Maya Angelou Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone I came up with one thing And I don't believe I'm wrong That nobody, But nobody Can make it out here alone. Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone. There are some millionaires With money they can't use Their wives run round like banshees Their children sing the blues They've got expensive doctors To cure their hearts of stone. But nobody No, nobody Can make it out here alone. Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone. Now if you listen closely I'll tell you what I know Storm clouds are gathering The wind is gonna blow The race of man is suffering And I can hear the moan, 'Cause nobody, But nobody Can make it out here alone. Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone. | |
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| | #6 (mesaj-linki) | |
| Cvp: Daily Poetry... An Entrapment My love, I have tried with all my being to grasp a form comparable to thine own, but nothing seems worthy; I know now why Shakespeare could not compare his love to a summer’s day. It would be a crime to denounce the beauty of such a creature as thee, to simply cast away the precision God had placed in forging you. Each facet of your being whether it physical or spiritual is an ensnarement from which there is no release. But I do not wish release. I wish to stay entrapped forever. With you for all eternity. Our hearts, always as one. - Anthony Kolos - | |
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| | #7 (mesaj-linki) | |
| Cvp: Daily Poetry... Beautiful Dreamer Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me, Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee; Sounds of the rude world heard in the day, Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd away! Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song, List while I woo thee with soft melody; Gone are the cares of life's busy throng. Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me! Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me! Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea, Mermaids are chaunting the wild lorelie; Over the streamlet vapors are borne, Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn. Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart, E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea; Then will all clouds of sorrow depart, Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me! Stephen Foster | |
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| | #8 (mesaj-linki) | |
| Cvp: Daily Poetry... If I could catch a rainbow I would do it just for you, And share with you its beauty On the days you're feeling blue If I could build a mountain You could call your very own, A place to find serenity, A place to be alone If I could take your troubles I would toss them in the sea, But all these things I'm finding Are impossible for me I cannot build a mountain, Or catch a rainbow fair, But let me be what I know best, A friend who's always there - Kahlil Gibran - | |
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| | #9 (mesaj-linki) | |
| Cvp: Daily Poetry... A Dream In visions of the dark night I have dreamed of joy departed- But a waking dream of life and light Hath left me broken-hearted. Ah! what is not a dream by day To him whose eyes are cast On things around him with a ray Turned back upon the past? That holy dream- that holy dream, While all the world were chiding, Hath cheered me as a lovely beam A lonely spirit guiding. What though that light, thro' storm and night, So trembled from afar- What could there be more purely bright In Truth's day-star? Edgar Allan Poe | |
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| | #10 (mesaj-linki) | |
| Cvp: Daily Poetry... Birches by Robert Frost When I see birches bend to left and right Across the lines of straighter darker trees, I like to think some boy's been swinging them. But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning After a rain. They click upon themselves As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel. Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust-- Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen. They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load, And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed So low for long, they never right themselves: You may see their trunks arching in the woods Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair Before them over their heads to dry in the sun. But I was going to say when Truth broke in With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm I should prefer to have some boy bend them As he went out and in to fetch the cows-- Some boy too far from town to learn baseball, Whose only play was what he found himself, Summer or winter, and could play alone. One by one he subdued his father's trees By riding them down over and over again Until he took the stiffness out of them, And not one but hung limp, not one was left For him to conquer. He learned all there was To learn about not launching out too soon And so not carrying the tree away Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise To the top branches, climbing carefully With the same pains you use to fill a cup Up to the brim, and even above the brim. Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish, Kicking his way down through the air to the ground. So was I once myself a swinger of birches. And so I dream of going back to be. It's when I'm weary of considerations, And life is too much like a pathless wood Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs Broken across it, and one eye is weeping From a twig's having lashed across it open. I'd like to get away from earth awhile And then come back to it and begin over. May no fate willfully misunderstand me And half grant what I wish and snatch me away Not to return. Earth's the right place for love: I don't know where it's likely to go better. I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree, And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more, But dipped its top and set me down again. That would be good both going and coming back. One could do worse than be a swinger of birches. | |
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Daily Poetry Konusuna Benzer Konular | ||||
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| Danity Kane - Poetry | nünü | Yabancı Şarkı Sözleri | 0 | 17-04-2008 10:57 |