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A dozen poems
For todayA version friendly to printer and palmtop
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The Quiet Singer, by Charles Hanson Towne
(Ave! Francis Thompson)
He had been singing -- but I had not heard his voice;
He had been weaving lovely dreams of song,
O many a morning long.
But I, remote and far,
Lost, by Luna Hoola
Confused road leading to nowhere intertwined lives seperate us from our reality's kissing heaven on a sunday afternoon let us hear the praise that raise us from scrawny boys to metapysical men wanting to evolve from the puddle of mud we crawl from our lives confused a road of thread intertwined lives pass by swimming in oceans of red jello anger and hate take over our lives lost little boys lost little girls look for each other there fates sealed inside a box of cereal candy colored clowns who thrive on chaos lure them into there auto mobiles wanting a bit more sacared soulfull solitude we lay our hearts into what else could we ask for lost little boys searching for peace and love but opening there bright colerfull eye's to murder, sex, and hate the words that mezmorize words that hypnotize lies and deciet all at youre feet begging for there forgiveness but all you give them is greif tearfull tantrims tastefull sighs signs of the apocolypse on a distant horizen waiting for!
one applause the one from nowhere the one that only exists in youre mind so now the unbelevible line is drawn which you stand at the edge waiting for you metapysical mind to come to terms with the soul that left you high and dry standing at the edge with youre own two feet you stand to contemplate how lost you have gotten the wirey little boy lost for a lifetime in search of the lost little girl who waits for him on the otherside of hell waiting for the bell of time to end to come to terms of how well her life was spent.
searching for meaning a neverend betrayed and dismayed by lucky stars hanging behind locked doors black as the night it was bliss that we missed not to long ago where our fates where locked with messages from space twiglight and long ours and day time races that last for ages all this to be found in hours of glory we witness our stories bieng read from a book that we just happen to have took from a little lost girl who we happened to find wandering alone in the dark woods where colors mean nothing and distortions fasinate or realm of thought the lost little girl carried a frown that seemed glued to her personality she seemed so distraught by what she had seen she grew up in the same world as us where little lost girls grow up have such little trust waiting for lost little boys to hear you chants of "come save us" SO THE SHIVERS run down you spine you still cant trust lost little boy whispers trusting me is a must not everyone is a gloomy gus candy coated and loaded!
with fears of mistrust why cant you believe what i say im not here to harm you i just want to be freinds with a girl i seem to like lost or found i still want you around youre a groovy little girl who captured my soul who broke the boundries and created the elements boundless like the laws of gravity.
Fair and Fair, by George Peele
Oenone. FAIR and fair, and twice so fair,
As fair as any may be;
The fairest shepherd on our green,
A love for any lady.
Paris. Fair and fair, and twice so fair,
Letty's Globe, by Charles Tennyson Turner
WHEN Letty had scarce pass'd her third glad year,
And her young artless words began to flow,
One day we gave the child a colour'd sphere
Of the wide earth, that she might mark and know,
By tint and outline, all its sea and land.
I am in Love with High Far-Seeing Places, by Arthur Davison Ficke
I am in love with high far-seeing places
That look on plains half-sunlight and half-storm, --
In love with hours when from the circling faces
Veils pass, and laughing fellowship glows warm.
You who look on me with grave eyes where rapture
Sirena, by Michael Drayton
NEAR to the silver Trent
SIRENA dwelleth;
She to whom Nature lent
All that excelleth;
By which the Muses late
Song, by Edward J. O'Brien
She goes all so softly
Like a shadow on the hill,
A faint wind at twilight
That stirs, and is still.
She weaves her thoughts whitely,
Lament for Culloden, by Robert Burns
THE lovely lass o' Inverness,
Nae joy nor pleasure can she see;
For e'en and morn she cries, 'Alas!'
And aye the saut tear blin's her e'e:
'Drumossie moor, Drumossie day,
Song, by Aphra Behn
LOVE in fantastic triumph sate
Whilst bleeding hearts around him flow'd,
For whom fresh pains he did create
And strange tyrannic power he show'd:
From thy bright eyes he took his fires,
The Ninety and Nine, by Rose Elizabeth Smith
There are ninety and nine that work and die,
In hunger and want and cold,
That one may revel in luxury,
And be lapped in the silken fold.
And ninety and nine in their hovels bare,
The Dreamer, by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
"~Why do you seek the sun,
In your Bubble-Crown ascending?
Your chariot will melt to mist,
Your crown will have an ending.~"
"Nay, sun is but a Bubble,
Adherence Crafted, by Joe Duvernay
Move me
You heavens appear
And earth to stand on
And I will take the short route
To a happiness gathers you under sleeve.
The DayPoems web site, www.daypoems.net, is copyright 2001-2012 by Timothy Keith Bovee. All rights reserved.
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