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Poetry Corner

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  • Re: Poetry Corner

    "A cloud is passing "

    That damn cloud passed by alright-and dumped 12 inches of snow on us!
    Hayastan or Bust.

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    • Re: Poetry Corner

      aww that sucks. I dont miss the snow

      In dedication to your last one though..
      Snow by Jay M. McCabe

      Snow is falling
      A beautiful sight
      Snow is falling
      It plays with the light
      Snow is falling
      It plays it's game
      Snow is falling
      It makes all that's different look the same
      Snow is falling
      It's source is storm
      Snow is falling
      It makes all conform
      Snow is falling
      It blinds all who see
      Snow is falling
      It hides you from me
      Snow is falling
      From a sky of lead
      Snow is falling
      Never mind...we're dead

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      • Re: Poetry Corner

        Force of nature

        freak of nature
        King some call him
        Prince I say
        Crowned by the nba.
        A throne awaits him
        ring he has not won
        prince I say.
        Shaqcelot has come
        The ring may come
        nevermore nevermore
        Because there's 4 shamrocks
        that stand in their way.
        2 knights of roundball
        some may say.
        Prince James will
        be King One day...

        I got this from http://www.makeliterature.com/reviewing/storyline-7798
        Positive vibes, positive taught

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        • Re: Poetry Corner

          How Many Of You? (poem) *written by me*

          How many of you are sitting there,

          reading this, your heart laid bare?

          How many of you are scared to share,

          but want someone to hold you and care?



          How many of you try to put on a face,

          so skillfully crafted to show no trace

          of the sorrow you wish you could erase?

          Bolder yet, put happiness in its place?



          How many of you know how this feels?

          I'm sure some of you now are shedding tears.

          A face is quite useful as a tool that reveals,

          with your grief as thief, your smile it steals.



          With your arms folded tightly around you,

          you look at the world - the one you once knew.

          You stare and ponder: what now will I do?

          You'll face this world. To yourself, be true.

          Comment


          • Re: Poetry Corner

            To Do List From God

            I ran my life in search of worldly things;
            My time and will were firmly in control.
            I thought I had no need for what God brings;
            I gave no heed to murmurs from my soul.

            “You’re planning, doing all the time,” it said,
            “But something else is missing deep inside.
            Your mind is whirling, but your heart is dead,
            So turn to God and let go of your pride.”

            I did, and God said, “Here’s My plan for you:
            Give your life to Me, and just let go.
            Have faith and pray, and read the Bible through,
            And you’ll have blessings more than you can know.”

            So simple, yet it brings me perfect peace,
            Living life for God the way I should.
            Direction, purpose, fullness and release—
            Life with God is very, very good.

            By Joanna Fuchs
            Positive vibes, positive taught

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            • Re: Poetry Corner

              "If you could only see yourself through my eyes,
              You would never, I bet, let me out of your sight"

              short poem by anonymous

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              • Re: Poetry Corner

                Dreams

                Hold fast to dreams
                For if dreams die
                Life is a broken-winged bird
                That cannot fly.

                Hold fast to dreams
                For when dreams go
                Life is a barren field
                Frozen with snow.

                -Langston Hughes
                Positive vibes, positive taught

                Comment


                • Re: Poetry Corner

                  Poem to My Boyfriend, Spenser


                  I don't know what lays before us,
                  but I know where we have been.
                  So, why don't we take each other's hand,
                  and follow our gut instinct within?
                  It's no secret we've had our troubles,
                  ...but working together I know we'll win.

                  With our fingers in this entwine,
                  our future we will divine.
                  As long as you're still mine,
                  I'll suspect we'll be just fine.

                  Have you noticed something lately?
                  It's something very true.
                  I'm not sure how to make it more obvious,
                  since it's something you already knew.
                  How? Because..., have you guessed it?
                  I love you. ♥
                  Last edited by Tali; 03-04-2011, 11:12 AM. Reason: didn't want to double post

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                  • Re: Poetry Corner

                    The Buddha at Kamakura

                    "And there is a Japanese idol at Kamakura"

                    O ye who tread the Narrow Way
                    By Tophet-flare to Judgment Day,
                    Be gentle when the 'heathen' pray
                    To Buddha at Kamakura!

                    To him the Way, the Law, apart,
                    Whom Maya held beneath her heart,
                    Ananda's Lord, the Bodhisat,
                    The Buddha of Kamakura.

                    For though he neither burns nor sees,
                    Nor hears ye thank your Deities,
                    Ye have not sinned with such as these,
                    His children at Kamakura.

                    Yet spare us still the Western joke
                    When joss-sticks turn to scented smoke
                    The little sins of little folk
                    That worship at Kamakura --

                    The grey-robed, gay-sashed butterflies
                    That flit beneath the Master's eyes.
                    He is beyond the Mysteries
                    But loves them at Kamakura.

                    And whoso will, from Pride released,
                    Contemning neither creed nor priest,
                    May feel the Soul of all the East
                    About him at Kamakura.

                    Yea, every tale Ananda heard,
                    Of birth as fish or beast or bird,
                    While yet in lives the Master stirred,
                    The warm wind brings Kamakura.

                    Till drowsy eyelids seem to see
                    A-flower 'neath her golden htee
                    The Shwe-Dagon flare easterly
                    From Burmah to Kamakura,

                    And down the loaded air there comes
                    The thunder of Thibetan drums,
                    And droned -- "Om mane padme hums" --
                    A world's-width from Kamakura.

                    Yet Brahmans rule Benares still,
                    Buddh-Gaya's ruins pit the hill,
                    And beef-fed zealots threaten ill
                    To Buddha and Kamakura.

                    A tourist-show, a legend told,
                    A rusting bulk of bronze and gold,
                    So much, and scarce so much, ye hold
                    The meaning of Kamakura?

                    But when the morning prayer is prayed,
                    Think, ere ye pass to strife and trade,
                    Is God in human image made
                    No nearer than Kamakura?

                    -- Rudyard Kipling

                    Spring

                    This morning
                    two birds
                    fell down the side of the maple tree

                    like a tuft of fire
                    a wheel of fire
                    a love knot

                    out of control as they plunged through the air
                    pressed against each other
                    and I thought

                    how I meant to live a quiet life
                    how I meant to live a life of mildness and meditation
                    tapping the careful words against each other

                    and I thought—
                    as though I were suddenly spinning like a bar of silver
                    as though I had shaken my arms and lo! they were wings—

                    of the Buddha
                    when he rose from the green garden
                    when he rose in his powerful ivory body

                    when he turned to the long dusty road without end
                    when he covered his hairs with ribbons and the petals of flowers
                    when he opened his hands to the world

                    -- Mary Oliver (1935 - )
                    Last edited by freakyfreaky; 03-24-2011, 11:34 PM.
                    Between childhood, boyhood,
                    adolescence
                    & manhood (maturity) there
                    should be sharp lines drawn w/
                    Tests, deaths, feats, rites
                    stories, songs & judgements

                    - Morrison, Jim. Wilderness, vol. 1, p. 22

                    Comment


                    • Re: Poetry Corner

                      ooohh Rudyard Kipling!! nice, reminds me of his other poem:

                      Take up the White Man's burden--
                      Send forth the best ye breed--
                      Go bind your sons to exile
                      To serve your captives' need;
                      To wait in heavy harness,
                      On fluttered folk and wild--
                      Your new-caught, sullen peoples,
                      Half-devil and half-child.

                      Take up the White Man's burden--
                      In patience to abide,
                      To veil the threat of terror
                      And check the show of pride;
                      By open speech and simple,
                      An hundred times made plain
                      To seek another's profit,
                      And work another's gain.

                      Take up the White Man's burden--
                      The savage wars of peace--
                      Fill full the mouth of Famine
                      And bid the sickness cease;
                      And when your goal is nearest
                      The end for others sought,
                      Watch sloth and heathen Folly
                      Bring all your hopes to nought.

                      Take up the White Man's burden--
                      No tawdry rule of kings,
                      But toil of serf and sweeper--
                      The tale of common things.
                      The ports ye shall not enter,
                      The roads ye shall not tread,
                      Go mark them with your living,
                      And mark them with your dead.

                      Take up the White Man's burden--
                      And reap his old reward:
                      The blame of those ye better,
                      The hate of those ye guard--
                      The cry of hosts ye humour
                      (Ah, slowly!) toward the light:--
                      "Why brought he us from bondage,
                      Our loved Egyptian night?"

                      Take up the White Man's burden--
                      Ye dare not stoop to less--
                      Nor call too loud on Freedom
                      To cloke (1) your weariness;
                      By all ye cry or whisper,
                      By all ye leave or do,
                      The silent, sullen peoples
                      Shall weigh your gods and you.

                      Take up the White Man's burden--
                      Have done with childish days--
                      The lightly proferred laurel, (2)
                      The easy, ungrudged praise.
                      Comes now, to search your manhood
                      Through all the thankless years
                      Cold, edged with dear-bought wisdom,
                      The judgment of your peers!

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