Sourabh2/Poem_MultiM · Datasets at Hugging Face

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	shovel them under and let me work i am the grass i cover all and pile them high at gettysburg and pile them high at ypres and verdun shovel them under and let me work two years ten years and passengers ask the conductor what place is this where are we now i am the grass let me work
	when you wish upon a star makes no difference who you are anything your heart desires will come to you if your heart is in your dreams no request is to extreme when you wish upon a star as dreamers do fate is kind she brings to those who love
	the moon drops one or two feathers into the fields the dark wheat listens be still now there they are the moon's young trying their wings between trees a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow of her face and now she steps into the air now she is gone wholly into the air i stand alone by an elder tree i do not dare breathe
	this is the land the sunset washes these are the banks of the yellow sea where it rose or whither it rushes these are the western mystery night after night her purple traffic strews the landing with opal bales merchantmen poise upon horizons dip and vanish with fairy sails
	there is a place up on the ridge over by claytown on a county road short cut where bales of hay save the warmth from a late summer sun autumn has yet to touch this tree that made
	they walked on the sinner and the poet to the crest of the small hill they reached the top and looked over it seemed they had been on a plateau for down below laid out like a painting was the most beautiful valley fraser had ever seen
	the sun shines not on us but in us the rivers flow not past but through us thrilling tingling vibrating every fiber and cell of the substance of our bodies making them glide and sing the trees wave and the flowers bloom in our bodies as well as our souls and every bird song wind song and tremendous storm song of the rocks in the heart of the mountains is our song our very own and sings our love
	you know what i look out my kitchen window and i see cornfields that's what we live here for cornfields and cows we don't like the smell of manure but hey it's better than wal-mart
	some people drift along like a cork on a river feeling that they cannot do anything except drift moment to moment this is an attitude of mind everyone can be constructive even in tiny ways
	a green plastic watering can for a fake chinese rubber plant in the fake plastic earth that she bought from a rubber man in a town full of rubber plans to get rid of itself it wears her out it wears her out it wears her out it wears her out she lives with a broken man a cracked polystyrene man
	i need the sea because it teaches me i don't know if i learn music or awareness if it's a single wave or its vast existence or only its harsh voice or its shining one a suggestion of fishes and ships the fact is that until i fall asleep in some magnetic way i move in the university of the waves it's not simply the shells crunched as if some shivering planet
	give the buried flower a dream make the settled snowbank steam
	why are the woods so alluring a forest appears to a young girl one morning as she combs the dreams out of her hair the trees rustle and whisper shimmer and hiss in this way a maiden is driven toward the dangers of a forest
	frosty the snowman was a jolly happy soul with a corncob pipe and a button nose and two eyes made out of coal frosty the snowman is a fairy tale they say he was made of snow but the children know how he came to life one day there must have been some magic in that old silk hat they found for when they placed it on his head he began to dance around
	in this woods this air that whispers your name it flows through me where we'd watch together for the sun to rise again in this woods i miss you
	love the trees until their leaves fall off then encourage them to try again
	as time goes on i realize just what you mean to me and now now that you're near promise your love that i've waited to share and dreams of our moments together color my world with hope of loving you
	in autumn when the trees are brown the little leaves come tumbling down they do not make the slightest sound but lie so quietly on the ground until the wind comes puffing by and blows them off towards the sky the winds will blow their own freshness into you and the storms their energy while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of autumn
	faded love and winter roses always bloom in memory faded love and winter roses yearning hearts that used to be will they meet again tomorrow where we parted yesterday give me back the winter roses and the love you took away faded love and winter roses sprinkled with a lonely tear faded love and winter roses still recall each yesteryear will i always be a dreamer dreaming of the used to be faded love and winter roses live and die in memory
	to see a world in a grain of sand and a heaven in a wild flower hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour
	the conch of my heart repeats the jangle of foam nudged apart silverly dims
	sleep is a drug dreams its succor how better to drift toward another world but with leaves falling their warmth draping us our stomachs full and fat with summer
	seeing a solo plant makes me smile the last hollyhock bloom left and just look at those lovely seeds yesterday is gone and its tale told today new seeds are growing
	hearts will never be practical until they are made unbreakable
	pride slays thanksgiving but an humble mind is the soil out of which thanks naturally grow a proud man is seldom a grateful man for he never thinks he gets as much as he deserves
	have never seen a gull catch a baby lobster nor for that matter have i ever seen a baby lobster the heron was a regular in front of our little cottage the gull looks mighty proud here i did add the sign for yucks and grins but everything else is authentic
	the leaves are falling falling as from way off as though far gardens withered in the skies they are falling with denying gestures and in the nights the heavy earth is falling from all the stars down into loneliness we all are falling this hand falls and look at others: it is in them all and yet there is one who holds this falling endlessly gently in his hands
	you are the daughter of the sea oregano's first cousin swimmer your body is pure as the water cook your blood is quick as the soil everything you do is full of flowers rich with the earth your eyes go out toward the water and the waves rise your hands go out to the earth and the seeds swell you know the deep essence of water and the earth conjoined in you like a formula for clay naiad: cut your body into turquoise pieces they will bloom resurrected in the kitchen
	the fair breeze blew the white foam flew the furrow follow'd free we were the first that ever burst into that silent sea down dropt the breeze the sails dropt down 'twas sad as sad could be and we did speak only to break the silence of the sea all in a hot and copper sky the bloody sun at noon
	and travellers now within that valley through the encrimsoned windows see vast forms that move fantastically to a discordant melody while like a ghastly rapid river through the pale door a hideous throng rush out forever and laugh but smile no more
	i to the world am like a drop of water that in the ocean seeks another drop who falling there to find his fellow forth unseen inquisitive confounds himself
	i am the autumnal sun with autumn gales my race is run when will the hazel put forth its flowers or the grape ripen under my bowers when will the harvest or the hunter's moon turn my midnight into mid-noon i am all sere and yellow and to my core mellow the mast is dropping within my woods the winter is lurking within my moods
	find the owner of the voice i zip in the bag and drove all across the noise examine the hairline his archives in the strands he turned into something that puts the weakness in my hands i see what i suppose i breathe what i dispose black wheels get yellow in the sand
	in the confusion and the aftermath you are my signal fire the only resolution and the only joy is the faint spark of forgiveness in your eyes there you are standing right in front of me all this fear falls away to leave me naked hold me close cause i need you to guide me to safety no i won't wait forever
	the bicycle the bicycle surely should always be the vehicle of novelists and poets
	when the beer it flows like water and the talk it turns to war then we speak of absent comrades and the honor of our corps of the fights in distant places and the friends who are no more dying faithful to the nation and the honor of our corps though our bones are growing brittle and our eyes are growing poor
	come to me with the wind's hand place your terrible mouth on my warm neck put all your fingers into the leaves' whisper make it fall silent
	let it be forgotten as a flower is forgotten forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold let it be forgotten for ever and ever time is a kind friend he will make us old if anyone asks say it was forgotten long and long ago as a flower as a fire as a hushed footfall in a long forgotten snow
	like the sunflower i yearn to turn my face to the dawn i am waiting for the day
	dry seeds scatter from my hand into the wind one clings as if to say there is in me something yet to be
	when one door of happiness closes another opens
	hear not the wind view not the woods look out oer vale and hill in spring the sky encircled them the sky is round them still come autumns scathe come winters cold come change and human fate whatever prospect heaven doth bound can neer be desolate
	o hushed october morning mild thy leaves have ripened to the fall tomorrows wind if it be wild should waste them all the crows above the forest call tomorrow they may form and go o hushed october morning mild begin the hours of this day slow make the day seem to us less brief hearts not averse to being beguiled
	sweet thames run softly till i end my song the river bears no empty bottles sandwich papers silk handkerchiefs cardboard boxes cigarette ends or other testimony of summer nights the nymphs are departed and their friends the loitering heirs of city directors departed have left no addresses by the waters of leman i sat down and wept sweet thames run softly till i end my song sweet thames run softly for i speak not loud or long but at my back in a cold blast i hear
	how often gazing where a bird reposes rocked on the wavelets drifting with the tide i lose myself in strange metempsychosis and float a sea-fowl at sea-fowl's side
	at one time the book must have opened opened flat to these pages these pages stamped in dirt and one clear print someones shoe must have made the mystery book had been sold to me as new closed there was no inkling of this soiled interior
	on the shingle spit stones lie in drifts graded according to the vagaries of wind and tide sorted by the shifting sea and the pull of the moon here tiny pebbles rounded polished yellow and white and buff there irregular stones rough with quartz veins like string parcelling time itself between are shoals of shells turrets clams broken
	the lighthouse keeper dark dark comes the night time to turn on the light tread tread up the stairs goes the keeper with his wares snip snip he trims the wick stirs the oil clear and thick strike strike goes the match fire on the wick does catch glimmer glimmer spark takes hold
	i can't keep my eyes open wish i had my radio i tune in to some friendly voices talking about stupid things i can't be left to my imagination let me sleep and dream of sheep
	she would say of leaves that they roar over her closed eyes and she pressed her burning mouth to the tree trunk's rough bark on a flat wall nailed by a stream of light
	down in a valley off a gravel road behind fine trees sits a red brick church built in 1 on old indian land if you walk the fields near by just after harvest time you can find arrow heads
	never give children a chance of imagining that anything exists in isolation make it plain from the very beginning that all living is relationship show them relationships in the woods in the fields in the ponds and streams in the village and in the country around it rub it in
	standing tall casting hope the old man is his skiff however corroded may be the grip of his net tells a different tail as heaven brightens the somber night standing tall the old man sings faith is the assurance of things we hope for the conviction of things not seen
	ok i am bored and smell of cardboard and was born from the dark lord i am trying to rhyme meanwhile passing the time while i am looking for a dime i dont know what i am saying i am really just playing with the many displaying ways you can make rhymes
	bees are black with gilt surcingles buccaneers of buzz
	ever since the birds flew away from my words and the stars went out i don't know what to call fear and death and love
	morning sun on green water leaves stretching growing moving to the music of the light
	you speak as though no sunlight ever surprised the mind groping on its cloudy path sunlight's a thing that needs a window before it enters a dark room windows don't happen
	i would rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself than be crowded on a velvet cushion
	with six small diamonds for his eyes he walks upon the summer skies drawing from his silken blouse the lacework of his dwelling house
	they have many different names depending on who you ask the soft and bountiful globes i carry luscious and full to nearly breaking their sweet nectar filling to overbearing such mouth-watering flavor and the hungry gazes of those starving gentlemen
	slow buds the pink dawn like a rose from out night's gray and cloudy sheath softly and still it grows and grows petal by petal leaf by leaf
	some nights you don't win you'll try and try but just sink deeper and destroy more so just quit for that night the devils are out to trip you blow arrows pour glue and you'll itch enjoy the silence
	faith means living with uncertainty feeling your way through life letting your heart guide you like a lantern in the dark
	a violinist had a violin a painter his palette all i had was myself i was the instrument that i must care for
	gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight shining blossoms flaunting in the eye of day tremulous leaves with soft and silver lining buds that open only to decay brilliant hopes all woven in gorgeous tissues flaunting gayly in the golden light large desires with most uncertain issues tender wishes blossoming at night
	thou half-unfolded flower with fragrance-laden heart what is the secret power that doth thy petals part what gave thee most thy hue the sunshine or the dew
	i am the blossom pressed in a book found again after two hundred years i am the maker the lover and the keeper when the young girl who starves sits down to a table she will sit beside me i am food on the prisoner's plate i am water rushing to the wellhead filling the pitcher until it spills i am the patient gardener
	i am the daughter of earth and water and the nursling of the sky i pass through the pores of the ocean and shores i change but i cannot die for after the rain when with never a stain the pavilion of heaven is bare and the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams build up the blue dome of air i silently laugh at my own cenotaph and out of the caverns of rain
	no flowers no bees no bees no flowers blooming and buzzing buzzing and blooming married and still in love
	come to me with the wind's hand place your terrible mouth on my warm neck put all your fingers into the leaves' whisper make it fall silent
	i returned to a long strand the hammered shod of a bay and found only the secular powers of the atlantic thundering i faced the unmagical invitations of iceland the pathetic colonies of greenland and suddenly those fabulous raiders those lying in orkney and dublin
	like music in his heart his constant waking dream navigating air
	i laid me down upon a bank where love lay sleeping i heard among the rushes dank weeping weeping then i went to the heath and the wild to the thistles and thorns of the waste and they told me how they were beguiled driven out and compelled to the chaste i went to the garden of love and saw what i never had seen
	prayer is sitting in the silence until it silences us choosing gratitude until we are grateful praising god until we ourselves are a constant act of praise
	often i had gone this way before but now it seemed i never could be and never had been anywhere else 'twas home one nationality we had i and the birds that sang one memory
	it was a cold day with you it was a cold day without you frozen water frozen hearts frozen time frozen memories
	i held a moment in my hand brilliant as a star fragile as a flower a tiny sliver of one hour i dripped it carelessly ah i didn't know i held opportunity
	they flutter behind you - your possible pasts some bright-eyed and crazy some frightened and lost a warning to anyone still in command of their possible future to take care
	freed from the back breaking labor of going backwards and forward carrying burdens for others now freed to become something much larger and his only burden would be to watch things grow delightfully certain spontaneously looking over this is what peace could be
	who loves not a false imagining an unreal character in us but looking through all the rubbish of our imperfections loves in us the divine ideal of our natures - not the man that we are but the angel that we may be
	yellow butterflies look like flowers flying through the warm summer air
	just across the blue ridge where the high meadows lay and the galax spreads through the new mown hay theres a rusty iron bridge cross a shady ravine where the hard road ends and turns to clay with a suitcase in his hand there the lonesome boy stands gazing at the river sliding by beneath his feet but the dark water springs from the black rocks and flows out of sight where the twisted laurel grows
	we exist through love we are love we blossoming in the aquamarine may under the great empty sky
	ample make this bed make this bed with awe in it wait till judgment break excellent and fair
	the church clock strikes four and we have cherries hanging on the tree for tea variable in sweetness some bitter vermilion bird cherries others oozing purple honeyed stickiness poppies blow in viridian fields of ripening rape overlooking the vale with far gloucesters tower and may hills summit copse just visible in the haze of afternoon we have passed his house
	i couldnt feel your presents i couldnt hear your voice i couldnt smell your scent your touch i miss the most the house was so empty and dim it cant be called home no more your room door was locked god that was so cruel my rooms walls embraced me my sole shelter and refuge
	tell me about despair yours and i will tell you mine meanwhile the world goes on meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes over the prairies and the deep trees the mountains and the rivers
	adored the noble game of golf he spent each moment of his week deploying niblick spoon and cleek but to poor rolfs undying shame he never won a single game his handicap got worse and worse and not the sort to swear and curse he sought a coach one hamish bean who joined him early on the green now hamish knew a thing or three
	the old door stood open all weathered and worn the paint was peeling the hinges were torn left there abandoned with glass in the floor i felt the sadness of the green open door there once was a time of clean shiny floors
	deep in the woods outside a tiny town near to a lake there is a path leading to a cabin and a old man called jacob near the cabins door sits a graveyard his parrents are there
	when i had no eyes i listened when i had no ears i thought when i had no thought i waited
	without withholding with love with words with eyes with all that is left within
	always we are following a light always the light recedes with groping hands we stretch toward this glory while the lands we journey through are hidden from our sight dim and mysterious folded deep in night we care not all our utmost need demands is but the light the light so still it stands surely our own if we exert our might fool never can'st thou grasp this fleeting gleam its glowing flame would die if it were caught
	there are so many lines killing tenderness and so many dimmed lights not whispering of love
	still home for the holidays just past movie night perhaps now stir the fire and close the shutters fast let fall the curtains wheel the sofa round and while the bubbling and loud hissing urn throws up a steamy column and the cups that cheer but not inebriate wait on each
	sometimes we love with nothing more than hope sometimes we cry with everything except tears in the end that's all there is love amp its duty sorrow amp its truth in the end that's all we have - to hold on tight until the dawn
	now i lay me down to sleep i pray this cushy life to keep i pray for toys that look like mice and sofa cushions soft and nice for grocery bags where i can hide just like a tiger crouched inside i pray for gourmet kitty snacks and someone nice to scratch my back for window sills all warm and bright for shadows to explore at night
	orange sky was gone very quick orange sky was gone by now orange sky was there maybe before the night it was gone
	roses come in all colours of the rainbow especially when it rains wish i could be a rose in the rain raindrops which fall on each rose makes a pretty pattern but its a shame it has to rain to make that pretty pattern but i wish i could be a rose out in the rain like the others dancing in the rain

shovel them under and let me work i am the grass i cover all and pile them high at gettysburg and pile them high at ypres and verdun shovel them under and let me work two years ten years and passengers ask the conductor what place is this where are we now i am the grass let me work

when you wish upon a star makes no difference who you are anything your heart desires will come to you if your heart is in your dreams no request is to extreme when you wish upon a star as dreamers do fate is kind she brings to those who love

the moon drops one or two feathers into the fields the dark wheat listens be still now there they are the moon's young trying their wings between trees a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow of her face and now she steps into the air now she is gone wholly into the air i stand alone by an elder tree i do not dare breathe

this is the land the sunset washes these are the banks of the yellow sea where it rose or whither it rushes these are the western mystery night after night her purple traffic strews the landing with opal bales merchantmen poise upon horizons dip and vanish with fairy sails

there is a place up on the ridge over by claytown on a county road short cut where bales of hay save the warmth from a late summer sun autumn has yet to touch this tree that made

they walked on the sinner and the poet to the crest of the small hill they reached the top and looked over it seemed they had been on a plateau for down below laid out like a painting was the most beautiful valley fraser had ever seen

the sun shines not on us but in us the rivers flow not past but through us thrilling tingling vibrating every fiber and cell of the substance of our bodies making them glide and sing the trees wave and the flowers bloom in our bodies as well as our souls and every bird song wind song and tremendous storm song of the rocks in the heart of the mountains is our song our very own and sings our love

you know what i look out my kitchen window and i see cornfields that's what we live here for cornfields and cows we don't like the smell of manure but hey it's better than wal-mart

some people drift along like a cork on a river feeling that they cannot do anything except drift moment to moment this is an attitude of mind everyone can be constructive even in tiny ways

a green plastic watering can for a fake chinese rubber plant in the fake plastic earth that she bought from a rubber man in a town full of rubber plans to get rid of itself it wears her out it wears her out it wears her out it wears her out she lives with a broken man a cracked polystyrene man

i need the sea because it teaches me i don't know if i learn music or awareness if it's a single wave or its vast existence or only its harsh voice or its shining one a suggestion of fishes and ships the fact is that until i fall asleep in some magnetic way i move in the university of the waves it's not simply the shells crunched as if some shivering planet

give the buried flower a dream make the settled snowbank steam

why are the woods so alluring a forest appears to a young girl one morning as she combs the dreams out of her hair the trees rustle and whisper shimmer and hiss in this way a maiden is driven toward the dangers of a forest

frosty the snowman was a jolly happy soul with a corncob pipe and a button nose and two eyes made out of coal frosty the snowman is a fairy tale they say he was made of snow but the children know how he came to life one day there must have been some magic in that old silk hat they found for when they placed it on his head he began to dance around

in this woods this air that whispers your name it flows through me where we'd watch together for the sun to rise again in this woods i miss you

love the trees until their leaves fall off then encourage them to try again

as time goes on i realize just what you mean to me and now now that you're near promise your love that i've waited to share and dreams of our moments together color my world with hope of loving you

in autumn when the trees are brown the little leaves come tumbling down they do not make the slightest sound but lie so quietly on the ground until the wind comes puffing by and blows them off towards the sky the winds will blow their own freshness into you and the storms their energy while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of autumn

faded love and winter roses always bloom in memory faded love and winter roses yearning hearts that used to be will they meet again tomorrow where we parted yesterday give me back the winter roses and the love you took away faded love and winter roses sprinkled with a lonely tear faded love and winter roses still recall each yesteryear will i always be a dreamer dreaming of the used to be faded love and winter roses live and die in memory

to see a world in a grain of sand and a heaven in a wild flower hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour

the conch of my heart repeats the jangle of foam nudged apart silverly dims

sleep is a drug dreams its succor how better to drift toward another world but with leaves falling their warmth draping us our stomachs full and fat with summer

seeing a solo plant makes me smile the last hollyhock bloom left and just look at those lovely seeds yesterday is gone and its tale told today new seeds are growing

hearts will never be practical until they are made unbreakable

pride slays thanksgiving but an humble mind is the soil out of which thanks naturally grow a proud man is seldom a grateful man for he never thinks he gets as much as he deserves

have never seen a gull catch a baby lobster nor for that matter have i ever seen a baby lobster the heron was a regular in front of our little cottage the gull looks mighty proud here i did add the sign for yucks and grins but everything else is authentic

the leaves are falling falling as from way off as though far gardens withered in the skies they are falling with denying gestures and in the nights the heavy earth is falling from all the stars down into loneliness we all are falling this hand falls and look at others: it is in them all and yet there is one who holds this falling endlessly gently in his hands

you are the daughter of the sea oregano's first cousin swimmer your body is pure as the water cook your blood is quick as the soil everything you do is full of flowers rich with the earth your eyes go out toward the water and the waves rise your hands go out to the earth and the seeds swell you know the deep essence of water and the earth conjoined in you like a formula for clay naiad: cut your body into turquoise pieces they will bloom resurrected in the kitchen

the fair breeze blew the white foam flew the furrow follow'd free we were the first that ever burst into that silent sea down dropt the breeze the sails dropt down 'twas sad as sad could be and we did speak only to break the silence of the sea all in a hot and copper sky the bloody sun at noon

and travellers now within that valley through the encrimsoned windows see vast forms that move fantastically to a discordant melody while like a ghastly rapid river through the pale door a hideous throng rush out forever and laugh but smile no more

i to the world am like a drop of water that in the ocean seeks another drop who falling there to find his fellow forth unseen inquisitive confounds himself

i am the autumnal sun with autumn gales my race is run when will the hazel put forth its flowers or the grape ripen under my bowers when will the harvest or the hunter's moon turn my midnight into mid-noon i am all sere and yellow and to my core mellow the mast is dropping within my woods the winter is lurking within my moods

find the owner of the voice i zip in the bag and drove all across the noise examine the hairline his archives in the strands he turned into something that puts the weakness in my hands i see what i suppose i breathe what i dispose black wheels get yellow in the sand

in the confusion and the aftermath you are my signal fire the only resolution and the only joy is the faint spark of forgiveness in your eyes there you are standing right in front of me all this fear falls away to leave me naked hold me close cause i need you to guide me to safety no i won't wait forever

the bicycle the bicycle surely should always be the vehicle of novelists and poets

when the beer it flows like water and the talk it turns to war then we speak of absent comrades and the honor of our corps of the fights in distant places and the friends who are no more dying faithful to the nation and the honor of our corps though our bones are growing brittle and our eyes are growing poor

come to me with the wind's hand place your terrible mouth on my warm neck put all your fingers into the leaves' whisper make it fall silent

let it be forgotten as a flower is forgotten forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold let it be forgotten for ever and ever time is a kind friend he will make us old if anyone asks say it was forgotten long and long ago as a flower as a fire as a hushed footfall in a long forgotten snow

like the sunflower i yearn to turn my face to the dawn i am waiting for the day

dry seeds scatter from my hand into the wind one clings as if to say there is in me something yet to be

when one door of happiness closes another opens

hear not the wind view not the woods look out oer vale and hill in spring the sky encircled them the sky is round them still come autumns scathe come winters cold come change and human fate whatever prospect heaven doth bound can neer be desolate

o hushed october morning mild thy leaves have ripened to the fall tomorrows wind if it be wild should waste them all the crows above the forest call tomorrow they may form and go o hushed october morning mild begin the hours of this day slow make the day seem to us less brief hearts not averse to being beguiled

sweet thames run softly till i end my song the river bears no empty bottles sandwich papers silk handkerchiefs cardboard boxes cigarette ends or other testimony of summer nights the nymphs are departed and their friends the loitering heirs of city directors departed have left no addresses by the waters of leman i sat down and wept sweet thames run softly till i end my song sweet thames run softly for i speak not loud or long but at my back in a cold blast i hear

how often gazing where a bird reposes rocked on the wavelets drifting with the tide i lose myself in strange metempsychosis and float a sea-fowl at sea-fowl's side

at one time the book must have opened opened flat to these pages these pages stamped in dirt and one clear print someones shoe must have made the mystery book had been sold to me as new closed there was no inkling of this soiled interior

on the shingle spit stones lie in drifts graded according to the vagaries of wind and tide sorted by the shifting sea and the pull of the moon here tiny pebbles rounded polished yellow and white and buff there irregular stones rough with quartz veins like string parcelling time itself between are shoals of shells turrets clams broken

the lighthouse keeper dark dark comes the night time to turn on the light tread tread up the stairs goes the keeper with his wares snip snip he trims the wick stirs the oil clear and thick strike strike goes the match fire on the wick does catch glimmer glimmer spark takes hold

i can't keep my eyes open wish i had my radio i tune in to some friendly voices talking about stupid things i can't be left to my imagination let me sleep and dream of sheep

she would say of leaves that they roar over her closed eyes and she pressed her burning mouth to the tree trunk's rough bark on a flat wall nailed by a stream of light

down in a valley off a gravel road behind fine trees sits a red brick church built in 1 on old indian land if you walk the fields near by just after harvest time you can find arrow heads

never give children a chance of imagining that anything exists in isolation make it plain from the very beginning that all living is relationship show them relationships in the woods in the fields in the ponds and streams in the village and in the country around it rub it in

standing tall casting hope the old man is his skiff however corroded may be the grip of his net tells a different tail as heaven brightens the somber night standing tall the old man sings faith is the assurance of things we hope for the conviction of things not seen

ok i am bored and smell of cardboard and was born from the dark lord i am trying to rhyme meanwhile passing the time while i am looking for a dime i dont know what i am saying i am really just playing with the many displaying ways you can make rhymes

bees are black with gilt surcingles buccaneers of buzz

ever since the birds flew away from my words and the stars went out i don't know what to call fear and death and love

morning sun on green water leaves stretching growing moving to the music of the light

you speak as though no sunlight ever surprised the mind groping on its cloudy path sunlight's a thing that needs a window before it enters a dark room windows don't happen

i would rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself than be crowded on a velvet cushion

with six small diamonds for his eyes he walks upon the summer skies drawing from his silken blouse the lacework of his dwelling house

they have many different names depending on who you ask the soft and bountiful globes i carry luscious and full to nearly breaking their sweet nectar filling to overbearing such mouth-watering flavor and the hungry gazes of those starving gentlemen

slow buds the pink dawn like a rose from out night's gray and cloudy sheath softly and still it grows and grows petal by petal leaf by leaf

some nights you don't win you'll try and try but just sink deeper and destroy more so just quit for that night the devils are out to trip you blow arrows pour glue and you'll itch enjoy the silence

faith means living with uncertainty feeling your way through life letting your heart guide you like a lantern in the dark

a violinist had a violin a painter his palette all i had was myself i was the instrument that i must care for

gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight shining blossoms flaunting in the eye of day tremulous leaves with soft and silver lining buds that open only to decay brilliant hopes all woven in gorgeous tissues flaunting gayly in the golden light large desires with most uncertain issues tender wishes blossoming at night

thou half-unfolded flower with fragrance-laden heart what is the secret power that doth thy petals part what gave thee most thy hue the sunshine or the dew

i am the blossom pressed in a book found again after two hundred years i am the maker the lover and the keeper when the young girl who starves sits down to a table she will sit beside me i am food on the prisoner's plate i am water rushing to the wellhead filling the pitcher until it spills i am the patient gardener

i am the daughter of earth and water and the nursling of the sky i pass through the pores of the ocean and shores i change but i cannot die for after the rain when with never a stain the pavilion of heaven is bare and the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams build up the blue dome of air i silently laugh at my own cenotaph and out of the caverns of rain

no flowers no bees no bees no flowers blooming and buzzing buzzing and blooming married and still in love

come to me with the wind's hand place your terrible mouth on my warm neck put all your fingers into the leaves' whisper make it fall silent

i returned to a long strand the hammered shod of a bay and found only the secular powers of the atlantic thundering i faced the unmagical invitations of iceland the pathetic colonies of greenland and suddenly those fabulous raiders those lying in orkney and dublin

like music in his heart his constant waking dream navigating air

i laid me down upon a bank where love lay sleeping i heard among the rushes dank weeping weeping then i went to the heath and the wild to the thistles and thorns of the waste and they told me how they were beguiled driven out and compelled to the chaste i went to the garden of love and saw what i never had seen

prayer is sitting in the silence until it silences us choosing gratitude until we are grateful praising god until we ourselves are a constant act of praise

often i had gone this way before but now it seemed i never could be and never had been anywhere else 'twas home one nationality we had i and the birds that sang one memory

it was a cold day with you it was a cold day without you frozen water frozen hearts frozen time frozen memories

i held a moment in my hand brilliant as a star fragile as a flower a tiny sliver of one hour i dripped it carelessly ah i didn't know i held opportunity

they flutter behind you - your possible pasts some bright-eyed and crazy some frightened and lost a warning to anyone still in command of their possible future to take care

freed from the back breaking labor of going backwards and forward carrying burdens for others now freed to become something much larger and his only burden would be to watch things grow delightfully certain spontaneously looking over this is what peace could be

who loves not a false imagining an unreal character in us but looking through all the rubbish of our imperfections loves in us the divine ideal of our natures - not the man that we are but the angel that we may be

yellow butterflies look like flowers flying through the warm summer air

just across the blue ridge where the high meadows lay and the galax spreads through the new mown hay theres a rusty iron bridge cross a shady ravine where the hard road ends and turns to clay with a suitcase in his hand there the lonesome boy stands gazing at the river sliding by beneath his feet but the dark water springs from the black rocks and flows out of sight where the twisted laurel grows

we exist through love we are love we blossoming in the aquamarine may under the great empty sky

ample make this bed make this bed with awe in it wait till judgment break excellent and fair

the church clock strikes four and we have cherries hanging on the tree for tea variable in sweetness some bitter vermilion bird cherries others oozing purple honeyed stickiness poppies blow in viridian fields of ripening rape overlooking the vale with far gloucesters tower and may hills summit copse just visible in the haze of afternoon we have passed his house

i couldnt feel your presents i couldnt hear your voice i couldnt smell your scent your touch i miss the most the house was so empty and dim it cant be called home no more your room door was locked god that was so cruel my rooms walls embraced me my sole shelter and refuge

tell me about despair yours and i will tell you mine meanwhile the world goes on meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes over the prairies and the deep trees the mountains and the rivers

adored the noble game of golf he spent each moment of his week deploying niblick spoon and cleek but to poor rolfs undying shame he never won a single game his handicap got worse and worse and not the sort to swear and curse he sought a coach one hamish bean who joined him early on the green now hamish knew a thing or three

the old door stood open all weathered and worn the paint was peeling the hinges were torn left there abandoned with glass in the floor i felt the sadness of the green open door there once was a time of clean shiny floors

deep in the woods outside a tiny town near to a lake there is a path leading to a cabin and a old man called jacob near the cabins door sits a graveyard his parrents are there

when i had no eyes i listened when i had no ears i thought when i had no thought i waited

without withholding with love with words with eyes with all that is left within

always we are following a light always the light recedes with groping hands we stretch toward this glory while the lands we journey through are hidden from our sight dim and mysterious folded deep in night we care not all our utmost need demands is but the light the light so still it stands surely our own if we exert our might fool never can'st thou grasp this fleeting gleam its glowing flame would die if it were caught

there are so many lines killing tenderness and so many dimmed lights not whispering of love

still home for the holidays just past movie night perhaps now stir the fire and close the shutters fast let fall the curtains wheel the sofa round and while the bubbling and loud hissing urn throws up a steamy column and the cups that cheer but not inebriate wait on each

sometimes we love with nothing more than hope sometimes we cry with everything except tears in the end that's all there is love amp its duty sorrow amp its truth in the end that's all we have - to hold on tight until the dawn

now i lay me down to sleep i pray this cushy life to keep i pray for toys that look like mice and sofa cushions soft and nice for grocery bags where i can hide just like a tiger crouched inside i pray for gourmet kitty snacks and someone nice to scratch my back for window sills all warm and bright for shadows to explore at night

orange sky was gone very quick orange sky was gone by now orange sky was there maybe before the night it was gone

roses come in all colours of the rainbow especially when it rains wish i could be a rose in the rain raindrops which fall on each rose makes a pretty pattern but its a shame it has to rain to make that pretty pattern but i wish i could be a rose out in the rain like the others dancing in the rain