|
|
Cookie or brownie? |
Cookie |
|
68% |
[ 13 ] |
Brownie |
|
31% |
[ 6 ] |
|
Total Votes : 19 |
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 06, 2005 7:57 pm
The Garden of Proserpina
These things are there. The garden and the tree The serpent at its root, the fruit of gold The woman in the shadow of the boughs The running water and the grassy space. They are and were there. At the old world's rim, In the Hesperidean grove, the fruit Glowed golden on eternal boughs, and there The dragon Ladon crisped his jewelled crest Scraped a gold claw and sharped a silver tooth And dozed and waited through eternity Until the tricksy hero Herakles Came to his dispossession and the theft.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 06, 2005 8:03 pm
After mortal trouble Let me lie still Where the wind drives and the clouds stream Over the hill Where grass's thousand thirsty mouths Sup their fill Of slow dew and sharp rain Of the mantling snow dissolv'd again At Heaven's sweet will
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 06, 2005 8:16 pm
Men may be martyred
Any where
In desert, cathedral
Or Public Square.
In no Rush of Action
This is our doom
To Drag a Long Life out
In a Dark Room.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 13, 2005 8:23 pm
take a wild guess who this one's by.....
141
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes, For they in thee a thousand errors note; But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise, Who in despite of view is pleased to dote; Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted, Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone, Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited To any sensual feast with thee alone: But my five wits nor my five senses can Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man, Thy proud hearts slave and vassal wretch to be: Only my plague thus far I count my gain, That she that makes me sin awards me pain.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 21, 2005 6:48 pm
Annabel Lee
It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea; But we loved with a love that was more than love- I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsman came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me- Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we- Of many far wiser than we- And neither the angels in Heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride, In the sepulchre there by the sea, In her tomb by the side of the sea.
-Edgar Allen Poe
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 24, 2005 9:14 pm
Really starting to like this song the more I hear it...
CROSSFADE LYRICS
Cold
Looking back at me I see That I never really got it right I never stopped to think of you I'm always wrapped up in Things I cannnot win You are the antidote that gets me by Something strong Like a drug that gets me high
What I really meant to say Is I'm sorry for the way I am I never meant to be so cold to you
And I'm sorry about all the lies Maybe in a different light You could see me stand on my own again Cause now i can see You were the antidote that got me by Something strong like a drug that got me high I never meant to be so cold
I never really wanted you to see The screwed up side of me that I keep Locked inside of me so deep It always seems to get to me I never really wanted you to go So many things you should have known I guess for me theres just no hope I never meant to be so cold
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jul 13, 2005 7:52 pm
DarkUltimos Really starting to like this song the more I hear it... CROSSFADE LYRICS Cold Looking back at me I see That I never really got it right I never stopped to think of you I'm always wrapped up in Things I cannnot win You are the antidote that gets me by Something strong Like a drug that gets me high What I really meant to say Is I'm sorry for the way I am I never meant to be so cold to you And I'm sorry about all the lies Maybe in a different light You could see me stand on my own again Cause now i can see You were the antidote that got me by Something strong like a drug that got me high I never meant to be so cold I never really wanted you to see The screwed up side of me that I keep Locked inside of me so deep It always seems to get to me I never really wanted you to go So many things you should have known I guess for me theres just no hope I never meant to be so cold neutral eh. its all right. it just get overplayed WAY TOO MUCH at my local rock radio station. eek but that last stanza is powerful. someone admiting to hiding emotions. POWERFUL.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jul 29, 2005 10:43 am
Emily Dickinson (1830-86), Complete Poems; 1924. Part Three: Love
XLV
I've got an arrow here; Loving the hand that sent it, I the dart revere.
Fell, they will say, in "skirmish"! Vanquished, my soul will know, By but a simple arrow Sped by an archer's bow.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jul 31, 2005 11:34 pm
"Travel" (a.k.a the story of my life rolleyes )
The railroad track is miles away, And the day is loud with voices speaking, Yet there isn't a train goes by all day But I hear its whistle shrieking.
All night there isn't a train goes by, Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming, But I see its cinders red on the sky, And hear its engine steaming.
My heart is warm with friends I make, And better friends I not be knowing; Yet there isn't a train I'd rather take, No matter where it's going.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Aug 01, 2005 7:00 pm
[ Message temporarily off-line ]
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Aug 19, 2005 10:43 am
Love's Philosophy By Percy Bysshe Shelley
The fountains mingle with the river, And the rivers with the ocean, The winds of heaven mix forever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by law divine In one another's being mingle;-- Why not I with thine?
See the mountains kiss high heaven And the waves clasp one another No sister flower would be forgiven If it disdained its brother; And sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea; What are all these kissings worth If thou kiss not me?
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Sep 24, 2005 3:16 pm
I measure every grief I meet by Emily Dickinson
I measure every grief I meet With analytic eyes; I wonder if it weighs like mine, Or has an easier size.
I wonder if they bore it long, Or did it just begin? I could not tell the date of mine, It feels so old a pain.
I wonder if it hurts to live, And if they have to try, And whether, could they choose between, They would not rather die.
I wonder if when years have piled-- Some thousands--on the cause Of early hurt, if such a lapse Could give them any pause;
Or would they go on aching still Through centuries above, Enlightened to a larger pain By contrast with the love.
The grieved are many, I am told; The reason deeper lies,-- Death is but one and comes but once And only nails the eyes.
There's grief of want, and grief of cold,-- A sort they call 'despair,' There's banishment from native eyes, In sight of native air.
And though I may not guess the kind Correctly yet to me A piercing comfort it affords In passing Calvary,
To note the fashions of the cross Of those that stand alone Still fascinated to presume That some are like my own.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|