Pink is a combination of red and white. The pink of my choice is of a very mild shade, hardly discernible from white. It is a beautiful colour, not the gaudy pink. This shade matches perfectly with the black. I love this combination, oo la la.
"Pink is the color of universal love. Pink is a quiet color. Lovers of beauty favor pink. " It provides feelings of caring, tenderness, self-worth and love, acceptance. Wear pink when you want to present yourself as a peaceful, calm person who is not threatening.

sigh!
I was just kidding guys.. you have my permission to like any color combination you wish

another nice one..

THE PHRENOLOGY OF ANAGLYPTA

I am living in the wallpaper;
it is as full of sqiggles as an Arab mosque.
It's a Chelsea Flower Show,
an undergrowth of ferns,
a Mickey Mouse of nursery shapes,
a riot of colours and shades.
It is as cool as candy stripe,
as chunky as cable stitch,
hairy as a 'floc' of sheep,
as shizophrenic as a mood change,
as abstract as concentration failure,
as intense as studying,
as specialised as an eye-balling.

Why am I living in the wallpaper?
I am living in the wallpaper because
the room has been shrinking and shrinking,
more and more, over the last few months,
so much so that the paper on the west wall
is now on the east wall
and vice versa.
I am disorientated.
Peel me off, soak and strip me,
replace me with a new pattern of life;
or at least gloss over me.
Otherwise it's D.I.Y. or die.

- Geoff Stevens


By a peninsula, the painter sat and
Sketched the uneven valley groves
The apostle gave alms to the
Meek, the volcano burst
In fusive sulfur and hurled
Rocks and ore into the air
Heaven's sudden change at
The drawing tempestuous
Darkening shade of Dense clouded Hues
The wanderer soon chose
His spot of rest, they bore the
Chosen hero upon their shoulders
Whom they strangely admired - as,
The Beach tide Summer of people desired.

- Samuel Greenberg (1893-1917)

And a few by Hazel Hall (1886- 1924) - Brief fame in the 1920s would not last for this invalid poet. Note the density of music & rime, & how she undermines many of the lines which would fall to cliché in a lesser poet. She combines the best of Emily Dickinson & Edna St. Vincent Millay, yet with little of their downsides.


Company

A footstep sounded from the street...
Listening, I knew of you!
With the good singing of your feet
You came in, too.

Companioned by the sun and rain,
Mingling with the winds at will,
You passed, but in your step's refrain
I have you still.

Hazel Hall (1886-1924)


Finished To-Night

I have unleashed my hands, like hounds,
And I must not call them back;
They are off with virile bounds
On the hidden quarry's track.
Though there come rain or sun-
Fleet and lean and white,
They will follow the scent until they run
The quarry to earth, and the quarry is night.

Hazel Hall (1886-1924)

Light Sleep

Women who sing themselves to sleep
Lie with their hands at rest,
Locked over them night-long as though to keep
Music against their breast.

They who have feared the night and lain
Mumbling themselves to peace
Sleep a light sleep lest they forget the strain
That brings them their release.

They dream, who hold beneath the hand
A crumpled shape of song,
Of trembling sound they do not understand,
Yet love the whole night long.

Women who sing themselves to sleep
Must lie in fear till day,
Clasping an amulet of words to keep
The leaning dark away.

Hazel Hall (1886-1924)

Stairways

Why do I think of stairways
With a rush of hurt surprise?
Wistful as forgotten love In remembered eyes;
And fitful as the flutter
Of little draughts of air
That linger on a stairway
As though they loved it there.

New and shining stairways,
Stairways worn and old,
Where rooms are prison places
And corridors are cold,
You intrigue with fancy,
You challenge with a lore
Elusive as a moon's light
Shadowing a floor.
You speak to me not only
With the lure of storied art-
For wonder of old footsteps
Lies lightly on my heart;
And more than the reminiscence
Of yesterday's renown-
Laughter that might have floated up,
Echoes that should drift down.

Sunlight Through A Window

Beauty streamed into my hand
In sunlight through a pane of glass;
Now at last I understand
Why suns must pass.

I have held a shadow, cool
Reflection of a burning gold,
And it has been more beautiful
Than hands should hold.
To that delicate tracery
Of light, a force my lips must name
In whispers of uncertainty,
Has answered through me in a flame.

Beauty is the core of fire
To reaching hands; even its far
Passing leaves a hurt desire
Like a scar.

Things That Grow

I like things with roots that know the earth,
Trees whose feet, nimble and brown,
Wander around in the house of their birth
Until they learn, by growing down,
To build with branches in the air;
Ivy-vines that have known the loam
And over trellis and rustic stair,
Or old grey houses, love to roam;
And flowers pushing vehement heads,
Like flames from a fire's hidden glow,
Through the seething soil in garden-beds.
Yet I, who am forbidden to know
The feel of earth, once thought to make
Singing out of a heart's old cry!
Untaught by earth how could I wake
The shining interest of the sky?

Gee thanks

Time And Again



Time and again,however well we know the landscape of love

and the little church-yard with lamenting names,

and the frightfully silent ravine wherin all the others

end; time and again we go out two together,

under the old trees, lie down again and again

between the flowers, face to face with the sky


Rainer Maria Rilke

btw.. since we have so many contributers here, why dont we also start discussing the poems that we are posting? Trying to compare notes on what we understood from a given poem?
or maybe celebrate poet weeks?

Sure, please do shivani

Shadow Poetry

Hidden within the shadows of night
Poets by the dozens begin to write
Pens, the paintbrush of imagination
Blank paper, a canvas of creation
Verses in rhythm, a rhyming scheme
A poet's life, a written dream
Seeking the light, souls revealed
Sharing of poetry, once concealed

The Me That I'm Not

Who is the me that hides in the shadows,
Playing hide and seek with the me that I see.
I capture a glimpse every once in awhile,
But when I turn to look, I am gone again.
I fear the dark places where the other me dwells,
Those anguished corridors that would lead me to my self.
Housing hidey-holes for the me that I am not,
The passageways seemingly go on forever,
Only to eventually disappear all together.
The me that I cannot see,
Gleefully taunts from its secret places,
“I bet you can’t catch me!”
And try as hard as I might,
I cannot seem to capture the other me.
The one who hides and the one who mocks,
The one who certainly can’t be me.

by Laurie Benedict

Suhas, Catch, Shiv...

Hey aaplok ye peom thread ko dress thread banadala...

BTW welcome Pinky to the thread - sorry I am late - could not
log in few days due to work pressure

GR8 poems all of you - it is lovely to share
these with like minded people..

Now, something from my side

]I Should Not Dare

by Emily Dickinson

I should not dare to leave my friend,
Because if he should die
While I was gone and I -too late,
Should reach the heart that wanted me,

If I should disappoint the eyes
That hunted, hunted so, to see
And could not bear to shut until
He noticed me, -he noticed me,

If I should stab the patient faith
So sure I'd come -so sure I'd come
It listening, listening went to sleep
Reciting my tardy name.

My heart would wish it broke before
Since breaking then, since breaking then,
Is useless as next morning's sun
To erase a midnight's tear.


Love's Trinity

by Alfred Austin

Soul, heart, and body, we thus singly name,
Are not in love divisible and distinct,
But each with each inseparably link'd.
One is not honour, and the other shame,
But burn as closely fused as fuel, heat, and flame.

They do not love who give the body and keep
The heart ungiven; nor they who yield the soul,
And guard the body. Love doth give the whole;
Its range being high as heaven, as ocean deep,
Wide as the realms of air or planet's curving sweep.

Good on Catch ..simple and lovely..

A Celestial Fantasy

An Angel cried beside my bed last night.
I held her face and wiped away a tear,
I opened up my arms and held her tight,
And never dreamed that Paradise was near.
Her perfect form, her first sweet earthbound kiss
Creating such exotic harmony.
Ethereal enchantment gave such bliss
That Heaven opened wide its gates to me.

Warm is the love that mends this aching heart.
Impassioned fires that make my body whole!
Begin the dance and let Love's music start
And weave your web around my long lost soul.

For I am you, and you, Sweet Love, are me;
Entwined together in our Poetry.

*****************************************

Eternal Love
No love can last forever;
No love remains sublime.
But sometimes there's a moment
in the canopy of time.

A fleeting, precious moment
when all the world stands still;
That subtle special second
that only love can fill.

Small minutes of seclusion
that only lovers share;
Mere temporal diffusions
may never venture there.

A place of perfect passion,
a glade of joy and tears,
Where love may reign, enduring,
throughout the passing years.

Then when our time is ended,
and days are judged complete,
There may be, in the Cosmos,
a place where lovers meet.

So why should we be troubled
For who can question why,
if spirits are immortal
Then how can true love die?

******************************************

Both the poems written by Thomas Vaughan

Liked this one a lot ..

Dimps .. you always post nicest of ED .. thanks a lot

[i] When You Are Old


By W.B.Yates



When you are old and grey and full of sleep

Nodding by the fire, take down this book

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

your eyes had once, and theit shadows deep



How many loved your moments of glad grace

and loved your beauty with love false or true

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you

And loved the sorrows of your changing face



And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars

[quote name='shivani' date='May 9 2006, 11:57 PM' post='251644']
lovley poems all of you..
Welcome to thread Pinky and Snita

Thanks, Shivani!

She is Venus, when she smiles;
But she’s Juno, when she walks,
And Minerva, when she talks.

The voice so sweet, the words so fair,
As some soft chime had stroked the air;
And though the sound were parted thence,
Still left an echo in the sense.

**************************************************************
‘That Women are but Men’s Shadows’ (1616)

Follow a shadow, it still flies you;
Seem to fly it, it will pursue:
So court a mistress, she denies you;
Let her alone, she will court you.
Say, are not women truly then
Styled but the shadows of us men?

************************************************************

Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I’ll not look for wine.

*************************************************************

A lily of a day
Is fairer far, in May,
Although it fall and die that night;
It was the plant and flower of light.
In small proportions we just beauty see,
And in short measures life may perfect be.

*************************************************************

Still to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast;
Still to be powdered, still perfumed,
Lady, it is to be presumed,
Though art’s hid causes are not found,
All is not sweet, all is not sound.
Give me a look, give me a face,
That makes simplicity a grace;
Robes loosely flowing, hair as free:
Such sweet neglect more taketh me,
Than all the adulteries of art;
They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.

**************************************************************************

Soul of the Age!
The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage!
My Shakespeare...
Thou art a monument, without a tomb,
And art alive still while thy book doth live,
And we have wits to read, and praise to give.

‘To the Memory of Mr William Shakespeare’

This figure that thou here seest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut,
Wherein the graver had a strife
With Nature, to out-do the life:
O could he but have drawn his wit
As well in brass, as he has hit
His face; the print would then surpass
All that was ever writ in brass:
But since he cannot, reader, look
Not on his picture, but his book.

On the Portrait of Shakespeare,

***************************************************

All of the above by Ben Jonson

Be Careful For Some

By ; Diana.F.Gatewood

Be careful do not speak
For some are strong
And some are weak


Be careful choose wise
For some are true
Some just tell lies


Be careful of who you love
For some take for granted of
What we were sent from above


Be careful, be very aware
For some takes our love
Some doesn't really care


Be careful of what you thought
you have to gain
For some will say i love you
And turn around and leave you in pain


Be careful do turn and run
For some will love you and
Some will say it was only for fun!!!

If You Could Read My Mind
Gordon Lightfoot

If you could read my mind love,
what a tale my thoughts could tell.
Just like an old time movie
about a ghost from a wishing well.
In a castle dark or a fortress strong
with chains upon my feet.
You know that ghost is me
and I will never be set free
as long as I'm a ghost that you can see.


If I could read your mind love,
what a tale your thoughts could tell.
Just like a paperback novel,
the kind the drugstore sells.
When you reach the part where the heartaches
come the hero would be me.
Heroes often fail.
And you won't read that book again
because the endings just to hard to take.

Love that song - haven't heard for ages - thanks for reminding.

Here's another one:


A MESSAGE TO THE WIND
(Gordon Lightfoot)

Hold my hand, so I can hold you in my heart
Hold my hand, so I can guide you through the forest of the night
By the sea upon the raging tide

A message to the wind
I must begin to write of love and rain

Touch my heart for it is beating just for you
Hear my song, as I sing it to the lost and lonely ones
If there were time to spend another day

A message to the wind
I would begin if he could blow my thoughts to you

Hold my hand, now it is time for me to go
Take my love and let it rest
for we must meet again somehow

When you're alone and willows start to bend
and rain begins to fall
at times you will pretend and not pretend at all
I'll be with you again

A message to the wind

That's a nice one snita, one that touches the heart

If you could Sing

If you could sing a melody
you’d know how birds feel in the trees
the branches sway in harmony
& dancing, dancing to the tune
the golden leaves, the golden leaves.

A song is such a simple thing
you open up your heart & sing
the words come spilling out of you
like notes that fly across the moon
they’re leaving soon, they’re leaving soon.

The world is old & full of song
we cannot help but sing along
yet we grow up & we forget
we’re so afraid to get it wrong
we lose the song, we lose the song.

But sometimes when you’re all alone
& sometimes when you’re far from home
& sometimes when your day is through
you hear the song pass over you
& then you swear you would take wing
if you could sing, if you could sing.

Patrick O'Leary

A little satire on........

A TYPICAL LOVE POEM

There once was a woman who lived in a jar.
She didn't live near; she didn't live far.
She didn't live wide; she didn't live tall.
She didn't do much real living at all.

There once was a man whose heart had been shattered.
So broken was he that nothing real mattered.
He slept all the day and waked all the night.
And never did hope it would ever come right.

Now in typical poems these two would now meet.
They'd walk by each other on a dark busy street.
They turn and their eyes would do what eyes do
(if you read poetry and you think that stuff's true.)

But here's the real scoop. Life isn't a poem.
Two strangers were neighbors and they were alone.
Her jar was a house. His heart was a life.
She'd lost a husband and he'd lost a wife.

They looked for each other without even knowing
what they were missing and where they were going.
Life gave her a push, life gave him a pull
His heart it was mended and her jar it was full.

Patrick O'Leary
*******************************************

Nobody Knows It But Me

There’s a place that I travel
when I want to roam
and nobody knows it but me.

The roads don’t go there
and the signs stay home
and nobody knows it but me.

It’s far far away
and way way afar.
It’s over the moon and the sea.

And wherever you’re going
that’s wherever you are
and nobody knows it but me.

Patrick O'Leary

**********************************************

If Trees Could Sing
by charliechen

What do you see when you look at the colour blue?
If I saw it through your eyes would it still be true?
What do you feel when you look into my eyes?
If I could only see you. Would you shed the disguise?

Through all the fury and tumble of colours
Have you a canvas? Can we be lovers?
Paint me a forest with minstrels and birds
And unicorns dancing amongst your words

And if trees could sing they would sound like clarinets
A big band sound, playing a jazzy set
But a single tree on a solitary hill
Would hum a bluesy melody to keep its heart still

As we walk through this foggy forest of desires
Can you hear the music that your presence inspires?
Yet I stand enraptured like that solitary tree
With my branches in flames that no one can see

And a fire is dancing through these streets of rain
Melting the ice that cages the pain
A warmth is rising up from the soil
A potion of desire is beginning to boil

At night I reach to feel the life that you breathe
The rising and falling - the melancholy underneath
I want to know the dreams that you are dreaming
And discover the truth of your visions steaming

In your mind do you see the colour blue?
Or hear the trills that only trees can do?
Do you feel the heat that threatens your heart?
Then live the love of my seductive art

Put a little sunshine
In someone's day.
Lend a helping hand
Along the way.

Put a little love
In someone's heart.
Show a little appreciation
For someone's art.

Put a little belief
In someone's dream.
Have a little faith
In someone's being.

Put a little kindness
In someone's life.
See a little worth
In someone's time.

Put a little hope
In someone's sorrow.
Make a little effort
In a better tomorrow.

- Kenn Clark

GRANDMA'S FLOWERS
Each time I go to Grandma's place
To spend some summer hours,
She lets me pick a big bouquet
Of pretty garden flowers.
I've learned the names of almost all
The flowers Grandma grows:
Carnation, iris, pansy, phlox
Petunia, and rose.
The sweet pea is my favorite;
It has a lovely smell.
The flower Grandma likes the best
Is Canterbury bell.
I think my Grandma's wonderful
And hope that when I'm grown,
I'll have a "green thumb" just like hers
And flowers of my own.

~By Pauline S. Walker~

Word of Cheer
Drop a word of cheer and kindness,
Just a flash, and it is gone;
But there's half a hundred ripples
Circling on and on and on,
Bearing hope and joy and comfort
On each, splashing, dashing wave,
Till you wouldn't believe the volume
Of the one kind word you gave.

Drop a word of cheer and kindness,
In a minute you forget;
But there's gladness still a'swelling,
And there's joy a-circling yet.
And you've rolled a wave of comfort
Whose sweet music can be heard
Over miles and miles of water,
Just by dropping one kind word.
What Difference Does it Make?
If you know you are being faithful
To the vision you have in view,
If you're sure you are holding steadfast,
There's nothing else you can do,
And that firm and true conviction,
Will take out the hurt and ache
From your heart when folks misjudge you---
What difference does it make?

There are various minds and problems
So think of your fellow man
As living true to his vision
And doing the best he can.
Then hold to your goal undaunted,
Keep ever alert and awake,
Nor mind what the world is saying,
What difference does it make?

If people don't like your methods
And criticize all you do,
So long as you know you're trying,
You're best---what matter to you?
Stick to your sincere convictions.
Be loyal for Truth's own sake,
And even though some condemn you
What difference does it make?
-Unknown

Day By Day
Let me be a little kinder
Let me be a little blinder,
To the faults of those about me;
Let me praise a little more.
Let me be when I am weary
Just a little bit more cheery,
Let me serve a little better
Those that I am striving for

Let me be a little braver
When temptation bids me waver,
Let me strive a little harder
To be all that I should be.
Let me be a little meeker
With a brother that is weaker,
Let me think more of my neighbor,
And a little less of me.

Let me be a little sweeter
Making my life a bit completer,
By doing what I should do
Every minute of the day.
Let me toil without complaining,
By doing what I should do
Every minute of the day.
Let me toil without complaining
Not a humble task disdaining,
Let me face the summons calmly
When death beckons me away.
- Unknown

Keep Sweet
Suppose a world of trouble do
Annoy you day by day;
Suppose that friends considered true
Your trust in them betray;
And rocks may bruise and thorns may tear
Your warn and weary feet,
And every day you meet a snare---
KEEP SWEET
Suppose you have not each desire
That forms within your mind;
And earth denies you half your hire,
And heaven seems unkind;
And you have not the best to wear,
Nor yet the best to eat;
What though you have the meanest fare?
KEEP SWEET
A bitter heart will make things worse
And harder still to bear;
A merry heart destroys the curse
And makes the heavens fair.
So I advise whate'er your cause,
Whatever you may meet-Dwell on the good-
Forget the base---KEEP SWEET

- Unknown


..this.. is lovely .. more than that actually

this.. is for a gentleman
Charm
Good manners
With inherent grace
A quality of dignity
and a happy face

Good grooming
With posture tall
A knowledge of etiquette
And feelings for all

Conversing with others
and listening too
With eyes that say
I'm interested in you

Having a funny bone
in times of stress
Looking at the bright side
because its best

Does not judge
his neighbors' acts
Is aware of a difference
between opinion and facts

Is loving and giving
and happy to be
in a world of beauty
with much to see.

-Unknown


and this .. for me
We Two
The donkey and I, alike to a tee
Have wills like steel when we do
not agree.
Standing firm on our convictions
we will not budge
And cannot be moved by a gentle nudge.
"Heaven and earth shall pass away"
But there we are and there to stay.
Yet, when slowly creeps the dawn
and lo, we see,
Thereafter, would you believe it
We are as nice as we can be.

U wrote that?
Abhi U were telling me abt roses.

No wonder Ur unknown writer is unknown. Who wnts to read abt myths!!!

Thanks. How much more?


Who is this lucky gentleman?

Years before
are laid beneath painted skies
as the birds chase each other
in a swarm
and I imagine you here
once again, beside me
your voice still echos
with the fullness of love

It is time for a new season
though it is not like all the rest
I have changed once again
while my dream gets closer
It is now within my reach
and the values
you taught me
ring in my ears once again

I shall not forget my thoughts
which are colored
like a wondrous pageant
of floral bouquets
lined up against
the white picket fence
and the pristine house
which only you, my grandma
could charm
with your open arms

I see you in my mind's eye
and it is just like
you are fluttering
like an angel with wings
and you have given me
all that I could desire

I feel your love to the fullest
because you
left your light
beneath my path...

- Antoinette Kopperfield

WE LOOK BEFORE AND AFTER
AND PINE FOR WHAT IS NOT
OUR SINCEREST LAUGHTER
WITH SOME PAIN IS FROST,
OUR SWEETEST SONGS ARE THOSE
THAT TELL OF SADDEST THOUGHT.

This was by Shelley who fall among the category of romanticists.
Quoted from memory. Hope it is correct..


NASIR.

The Spring and the Fall

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

In the spring of the year, in the spring of the year,
I walked the road beside my dear.
The trees were black where the bark was wet.
I see them yet, in the spring of the year.
He broke me a bough of the blossoming peach
That was out of the way and hard to reach.

In the fall of the year, in the fall of the year,
I walked the road beside my dear.
The rooks went up with a raucous trill.
I hear them still, in the fall of the year.
He laughed at all I dared to praise
And broke my heart, in little ways.

Year be spring or year be falling,
The bark will drip and the birds be calling.
There's much that's fine to see and hear
In the spring of a year, in the fall of a year.
'Tis not love's going hurt my days,
But that it went in little ways.

Reminds me of pal bhar ke liye koi humein pyaar kar le. As a kid I thot, how silly. But love can make one so desperate, even a lie would suffice if it could take away the pain.

Why Did I Let You Go?


by Sara Jo Sparks


Why does it hurt so much inside?
Why aren't you here by my side?
I made a mistake a long time ago-
I denied my true feelings, and let you go.

I miss you so much, I don't know what to do.
All the thoughts in my head revolve around you.
I tried to make right what I did wrong,
So, I keep my head up and try to be strong.

You said, "I'm sorry, I just want to be your friend."
I said, "Okay," but that won't make my heart mend."
You think I am mad at all you do,
But I am not at all mad at you.

Naturally, I am still upset from what you said.
My feelings for you aren't changing like the thoughts in my head.
I still love you so very much,
As I sit here longing for your touch.

I know I hurt you at a certain time.
Now, I am as lonely, as a dark, silent mime.
I will let you go, if that is what you please,
If that will set your heart and mind at ease.

Just remember I will always love you,
and I hope you will, one day, love me, too.

Searching for Myself

by Debbie Pettengill

I remember a time when my heart would sing out
I remember the joy and what life was about
But something has happened to that girl I knew
I wish I could find her but I haven't a clue

I search for the happiness that was taken away
I search for my heart, every night, every day
A search that's exhausting, that gnaws at the mind
I search for myself, for my heart I must find

It's a lonely road but the path holds just me
It's a journey of rebirth, of trying to break free
But I will find my heart, somewhere on that road
And remember once again of days long ago

To those people who try and get hurt none-the-less
In trying to help me in this time of duress,
Please don't give up, remember me then
Back in the days, when my smile came from within

I'm trying to find my way back to that place
Where laughter and joy put a smile on my face
Where friends and family meant the world to me
I pray that I find it, I pray to be free

I get scared sometimes of what I've become
Will my heart stay like stone? But I can't succumb
I have to stay strong for what lies ahead
I have nothing to fear, I have nothing to dread

The search for myself has been a long, lonely one
But I will find me and lead me back to the sun
To a place not so distant, a place not unknown
To a place I remember, a place I call home...

Good one, the last one, dimps !

"LEISURE"

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

By Wm. Henry Davies.


NASIR.


What's this Life full of Care
We have no time to stand and Star

LONGING......

She rises uo from restless sleep, To greet yet another day
She wonders if he thought of her, As he started on his way


The first thing on her mind was him, And her love swells like a tide
She always starts her morning out, Wishing he were at her side


She looks up with saddened eyes, To catch a lonely stare
The lost girl in the mirror sighs, And brushes back her hair


For just a brief few moments, She smiles a secret smile
Her finger reaches out to trace, I love you, on the tile


Memories so bitter sweet, Go rushing through her head
Thoughts of how he held her close, As they shared the same soft bed


Music,Wine and Candlelight, Making love at break of day
Then the sadness of a brave goodbye, As she slowly walked away


She knew when it all started, Some days would feel this blue
Real love is worth the price you pay, And she knows this one is true


So she pulls herself together, as she whispers out his name
Not knowing many miles away, He's whispering the same

Empty Sky

No white elephant shaped clouds
Or grey fluff full of musky rain
Don't really miss the silver line

The brilliant stars seem too far
And seem pondering over something
Don't care much for moon to shine

No balloon ever wanders this way
Nor a bright yellow orange kite
Who bothers for a UFOs missing sign

Birds don't sing and fly here
Neither wind roar in vast spaces
This empty sky is all mine

You and i


You and I are connected in a way
that goes beyond romance, beyond friendship
beyond what we've ever had before
it has defied time, distance
and changes in ourselves
and in our lives.
It has defied every explanation.
Except one:
Pure and Simply, We're soul mates.


I can't explain, i just feel it
It's there in the way my spirit lifts
Whenever we talk
The sound of your voice brings me home,
in a way i can't explain
It's in the delight I feel, when we laugh
at exactly the same things
When I'm with you, it's like a tiny piece
of the universe shifts into place.
A place it's supposed to be, and all's right
with the world



These things and so many more have made
me understand that this is
once in a lifetime, forever connection
A connection, that could only exist
between you and me.
And deep in my soul
I know that our relationship is a rare gift.
One that brings us
Extraordinary happiness
all through our lives


- Anita Higgins -

Nothing Gold Can Stay
- Robert Frost

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

I Held A Jewel
-Emily Dickenson

I held a jewel in my fingers
And went to sleep
The day was warm, and winds were prosy
I said, "Twill keep"

I woke - and chide my honest fingers,
The Gem was gone
And now, an Amethyst remembrance
Is all I own

Azure and gold
by Amy Lowell

April had covered the hills
With flickering yellows and reds,
The sparkle and coolness of snow
Was blown from the mountain beds.

Across a deep-sunken stream
The pink of blossoming trees,
And from windless appleblooms
The humming of many bees.

The air was of rose and gold
Arabesqued with the song of birds
Who, swinging unseen under leaves,
Made music more eager than words.

Of a sudden, aslant the road,
A brightness to dazzle and stun,
A glint of the bluest blue,
A flash from a sapphire sun.

Blue-birds so blue, 't was a dream,
An impossible, unconceived hue,
The high sky of summer dropped down
Some rapturous ocean to woo.

Such a colour, such infinite light!
The heart of a fabulous gem,
Many-faceted, brilliant and rare.
Centre Stone of the earth's diadem!.

Centre Stone of the Crown of the World,
"Sincerity" graved on your youth!
And your eyes hold the blue-bird flash,
The sapphire shaft, which is truth.

Remembrance
-Emily Bronte

Cold in the earth—and the deep snow piled above thee,
Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave!
Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee,
Severed at last by Time's all-severing wave?

Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover
Over the mountains, on that northern shore,
Resting their wings where heath and fern-leaves cover
That noble heart for ever, ever more?

Cold in the earth, and fifteen wild Decembers
From those brown hills have melted into spring:
Faithful indeed is the spirit that remembers
After such years of change and suffering!

Sweet Love of youth, forgive if I forget thee,
While the world's tide is bearing me along:
Sterner desires and other hopes beset me,
Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong!

No later light has lightened up my heaven;
No second morn has ever shone for me:
All my life's bliss from thy dear life was given,
All my life's bliss is in the grave with thee.

But when the days of golden dreams had perished,
And even Despair was powerless to destroy,
Then did I learn how existence could be cherished,
Strengthened, and fed without the aid of joy;

Then did I check the tears of useless passion,
Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine;
Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten
Down to that tomb already more than mine.

And even yet I dare not let it languish,
Dare not indulge in Memory's rapturous pain;
Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,
How could I seek the empty world again?

You and Me and P.B. Shelley
-Ogden Nash

What is life? Life is stepping down a step or sitting in a chair.
And it isn’t there.
Life is not having been told that the man has just waxed the floor.
Life is pulling doors marked PUSH and pushing doors marked PULL and not
noticing notices which say PLEASE USE OTHER DOOR.
It is when you diagnose a sore throat as an unprepared geography lesson
and send your child weeping to school only to be returned an hour
later covered with spots that are indubitable genuine.
Life is a concert with a trombone soloist filling in for Yehudi Menuhin.
But, were it not for frustration and humiliation
I suppose the human race would get ideas above its station.
Somebody once described Shelley as a beautiful and ineffective angel
beating his luminous wings against the void in vain.
Which is certainly describing with might and main.
But probably means that we are all brothers under our pelts.
And that Shelley went around pulling doors marked PUSH and pushing doors
marked PULL just like everybody else.

Funeral Blues
-W. H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Mirror

I am silver and exact.I have no preconceptions.
Whatever i see i swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful,
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time i meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is part of my heart.But it flickers.
Faces and Darknes seperate us over and over.


Now i am a Lake.A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her.She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.


by Sylvia plath



The Falling Leaves


Today as i rode by,
I saw the brown leaves dropping from their tree
In a still afternoon,
When no wind whirled them whistling to the sky,
But thickly, silently,
They fell, like snowflakes wiping out the noon;
And wandered slowly thence
For thinking of a gallant multitude
Which now all withering lay,
Slain by no wind or age or pestlence,
But in their beauty strewed
Like snowflakes falling on the Flemish day.


by Margaret Postgate Cole

Poem 22 ( I gave myself to him )
by Emily Dickinson

I gave myself to him,
And took himself for pay.
The solemn contract of a life
Was ratified this way

The value might disappoint,
Myself a poorer prove
Than this my purchaser suspect,
The daily own of Love

Depreciates the sight;
But, 'til the merchant buy,
Still fabled, in the isles of spice
The subtle cargoes lie.

At least, 'tis mutual risk,
Some found it mutual gain;
Sweet debt of Life, each night to owe,
Insolvent, every noon.