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Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night-Dylan Thomas Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 
Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. | There Once Was An Island-Carrie De Ruyter There once was an island,Small, beautiful, and bright,Where peaceful people worked peacefully,Cheerfully and right.There once was an islandBut no longer does it existBecause of something evilThat came upon its midst.Sonnet 43-Elizabeth Barrett BrowningHow do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and heightMy soul can reach, when feeling out of sightFor the ends of Being and ideal Grace.I love thee to the level of every day'sMost quet need, by sun and candlelight.I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.I love thee with the passion put to useIn my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.I love thee with a love I seemed to loseWith my lost saints-I love thee with the breath,Smiles, tears, of all my life!-and, if God choose,I shall but love thee better after death. | The Secret-Ralph S. Cushman, Spiritual Hilltops I met God in the morningWhen the day was at its best, And His presence came like sunrise Like a glory withing my breast. All day long the presence lingered All day long He stayed with me; And we sailed in perfect calmness O'er a very troubled sea. Other ships were blown and battered, Other ships were sore distressed; But hte winds that seemed to drive them Brought to us a peace and rest. Then I thought of other mornings, With a keen remorse of mind, When I too, had loosed the moorings, With His presence left behind. So I think I know the secret Learned from many a troubled way; You must seek God in the morning If you want Him through the day. |
Heather-Carrie De Ruyter The sound of a little girl’s laugh filled the air As she ran, shouting, "Over here! Over here!" Her blond curls came after her, Her blue eyes held a spark of joy and mischief Her hat with its flowers tipped precariously on her head The flowers seemed to raise themselves to look at this joyous face The birds were not afraid of her, nor the wild animals of the woods Even the big brown grizzly bear seemed to smile at her as she went by. The pastel green dress, with its pink and white flowers, seemed to come alive The white pettioats and pinafore with Its pink ribbon and lace Seemed to give her the comfort of a mother bird to its young. O, how she made everyone want to be a kid again!Friends-Carrie De Ruyter You were my brother, You were my friend, I thought that we'd fight it until the end. But one day I was hurt, And no longer is it we, But just me. | When I Was One-and-Twenty-A.E. HousmanWhen I was one-and-twenty I heard a wise man say, "Give crowns and pounds and guineas But not your heart away; Give pearls away and rubies But keep your fancy free." But I was one-and-twenty, No use to talk to me.
When I was one-and-twenty
I heard him say again,
"The heart out of the bosom
Was never given in vain;
'Tis paid with sighs a plenty
And sold for endless rue."
And I am two-and-twenty,
And oh, 'tis true, 'tis true. | Tears, Idle Tearsfrom The Princess-Alfred, Lord TennysonTears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the hear, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days taht are no more.
Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more. |
Peacocks Under Shattered Glass-Janet I. Buck Electric fences on the page. Candor’s fabric. Brillo Pads. The empty sheet, a weary hand. Twist and shout, a horrid task. Treasure Islands in my mind. The white, it bleeds with grim rewards. All I see in evening’s shade are deserts growing dunes of sand. Peacocks screaming on a plate beneath such badly shattered glass. I went to church and said my prayers. For making filters go away. For widows black. Eternal nights. To leave me be. To smash themsleves. To start attending summer skies or someone’s else’s hopeless mass.
Wire clippers of a pen.
I’ve paid them well with heart and mind.
Still they sit like axes poised
and ready for the chopping block.
Certain issues lingering.
Margins like binoculars
so hard to move and realign.
Give me something like content
in place of all this wandering
among the ropes and rivals cold
beneath my tender, fragile skin;
perhaps replace this lion’s cage
and scrutinizing razor blades
with rather smooth and verdant grass,
so splinters under fingernails
will not infect themselves again. | "A Sad Little Poem"-untitled-Alex--asacui@hotmail.com no pants no trance no hallogen lamps no one who sees beyond no walls no balls no midnight calls no fresh wind blows anywhere | Twas the Night After Finals-Carrie De Ruyter Twas the night after finals,> And all through the halls, People were shouting and screaming And releasing the stress of it all. Some cried over spilt milk Just two days before While others procrasinated Preferring rest over more (other stuff) And I in my jammies My roommate in her/his cap Finally settled down For our long-awaited (too long actually) nap. When suddenly there came A knock on the door And who was standing there But a friend from another floor. "Go party! Have fun!" He/she shouted at me While I just stood there Looking at him/her so groggily. When my mind finally processed What he/she had just said I slammed the door in his/her face And went back to bed. |
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