Fruit colors are popular colors. The people liked the result of colors in all times. Still Life with Fruit and fruit bowl paintings to the famous paintings of fruit. Renowned artists also have the power of the paintings of rotting fruit. The artists of the modern era have also been successful in creating masterpieces of the fruit still painting in oil and oil pastel paintings of fruit.
As the painting is a thriving industry in the world, fruit paintings, and their part. There are many fruits painting lovers. The people who like to decorate their homes, offices and restaurants with fruit colors. People buy fruit paintings to send the donations to their relatives. Paintings of fruit can be donated to special occasions. It is particularly birthday gift, a gift to the wedding, Don new home, new office donation and donation new restaurant, etc.
Still life with fruit colors, almost all fruits. The famous paintings of fruits contain the fruits of grapes, apples, bananas, guavas, pineapples in the scene. Fruit painters do the high quality of the fruits of their colors with great artistic skills. The paintings of rotting of fruits make the best of works of art in the fruit colors. Renowned artists have managed to reach the controls in the paintings of rotting fruit. Bol fruit colors are simply wonderful. This fruit bowl paintings, the most of their presence on the walls in a dining room.
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Famous paintings, many admired in the history of art. Art famous paintings are of inestimable value and a great historical importance. Renowned artists were successful in creating works of art by famous paintings. Canvas oil paintings do most popular form of the most famous paintings in oil. Famous Oil Paintings are of different styles. It is particularly famous painting landscape, still life famous paintings, famous paintings of fruit, paintings famous Seemann, paintings by famous contemporaries.
Paintings of well-known artist brought the recognition around the world during the various times. Famous painters color really an advantage for the fine arts. There were a large number of famous painters in different parts of the world at different times. It is particularly important, Marc Chagall, Salvador Dali, Leonardo Da Vinci, Paul Klee, Henri Matisse, Claude Monet, Pablo Picasso, Pierre Auguste Renoir, Henri Rousseau, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Vincent Van Gogh, Andy Warhol.
Famous paintings of these abstract art at the highest level. Summary greatly known artists were highly appreciated for their summary of the famous paintings in oil. Picasso is one of the most famous abstract painters. Picasso is very famous because they work in several styles. Famous paintings by Picasso's Guernica, three musicians, dancers and the three Self Portrait: Yo Picasso.Picasso famous paintings have earned him worldwide recognition.
Many of the most famous paintings of flowers were by the painter of flowers in the balance. Famous Floral Oil Paintings are in variety of styles. The famous floral art fine colors are excellent. Famous landscape paintings are the master of works of art. Famous landscape painters have a large number of paintings by the famous landscape. Celebrate the art of landscape was much admired in all times. Famous landscape painters have achieved mastery of the art in the landscape.
Still Life with Fruit and fruit bowl paintings to the famous paintings of fruit. The artists have also created the highly famous paintings of rotting of the fruit. The most famous artists of the modern era of success are neither the creation of masterpieces nor the fruits of the paintings in oil and oil pastel paintings of fruit.
Still Life celebrates the art, glass, food, pipes, and books and so on. Nature mortem famous paintings are indeed the master of works of art. Female portrait paintings, the famous portrait paintings. There are also paintings of portraits of famous men. Portraits of famous paintings by Oscar dela where were very much appreciated. Japanese portrait of women colors are very popular in the Japanese culture. In addition to portraits of women and the table’s table’s portraits of people, there are many famous painting portraits of pets and the famous painting of portraits of houses and the famous paintings of sports cars.
Islamic famous painting of the Holy Places and the famous Islamic calligraphy of the Holy verses were really in a position to represent the Islamic art. Famous artists have developed Muslims to take control of the Islamic art of calligraphy. The famous Islamic tables and the paintings of the Holy Places such as Khana Kaaba, Masjid-e-Nabvi and other famous mosques and shrines. Islamic art is fascinating and famous has always been popular. The famous Islamic galleries have a large number of famous painter’s Islamic and Muslim calligraphist famous.
In addition to styles above, there are many other famous paintings issues. It is in particular to the famous paintings of war, famous paintings of Jesus, the well-known figure in the painting, the most famous religious paintings, romantic tables famous paintings of the famous battle paintings by famous military, the sunset, famous paintings, famous paintings of women, famous paintings of love, the famous water paintings, famous acrylic paints, paintings of famous buildings, the famous dance of colors, colors famous Dragon, black famous paintings, famous paintings in the autumn, famous paintings cats, the famous paintings of children, the most famous Paintings by friends, well-known paintings by Christianity, famous paintings of Jesus and famous paintings of humanity. There is also the famous paintings of America and the famous Spanish painting.
Floral Oil Paintings are large variety of styles. The colors of the flowers are so numerous that the number of species of flowers. These colors have a great attraction for the spectators. The Fine Arts blossom aromas colors are excellent. There is wide range of artistic flower. Flower paintings are in many media and on different matters. The paintings in oil on canvas flowers were very popular. In addition, there are many flowers painting art. It is particularly to the art parietal flower painting, flower pot painting, flower, dried art, the art of flowers in spring, the hibiscus flower clip art, floral art framed. Painters of flowers were successful in reproducing high-quality flower art. You paint the flowers beautiful.
The flowers are for a broad spectrum of functions and events around the world, and the colors of the flowers. The people love it, the aesthetics of flowers Oil Paintings gifts to their families on special occasions. These beautiful colors of the flowers as gifts to Birthday Party, to celebrate weddings, birthdays, Valentine's Day, Father's Day, Mother of the day, etc. etc. Floral Oil Paintings gifts are also hot on the request at festivals such as X-mas festivals and the Aïd .
The flowers are a symbol of beauty. They are real feelings of the people. Roses bring a smile to your face. They were a long time and admired by the people, to beautify their environment. In Western culture, many flowers have symbolic meanings. The practice of awarding the meanings of the flowers known as the fluorography. Red roses are a symbol of love, beauty and passion. Lilies are often used to the life or resurrection. Poppies are a symbol of solace in times of death. Red poppies are sent to the soldiers who died in times of war the United Kingdom, Australia and Canada. Floral Oil Paintings not only the charm of view, but also of great importance for the flower species.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Saturday, July 26, 2008
As Fast
It is as if the world revolves around the loss. I have the impression to explain that would be pointless. If more in box is never a pleasure it is a time, we overcome the "t fast enough. Back building itself as a person. It seems that in the last few days are nothing become soft, mild, loves nothing. Nothings I dare not forget. The most beautiful treason, the unforgettable autumn. I travel in my heart and spade in the head that ... in the early autumn. I rise of UN memory, knew only to forget the old Memories. The true love, true story that she was ready to fiction, but with a better end. Cries for different words, nothing to get this a blessing, but one that I am sad ... Its as if all this I have already said, lost in a time known as the wind swirls, twirling, the destruction of New Orleans. The world is a picture of our been completed, cold asphyxiation. I remember the ice you on my back, as weighed through the ice, lived in my heart. It’s almost as if the world revolved around us, but now that we are the exception, he has yarn away from me, and I feel like nothing is reminiscent of the emptiness and maturity. If that is good, why is it bad? Why do you feel almost like a burning sensation, as if I was dying? Rebirth in non-birth. It feels a little like the freeze is without end. It feels almost..... As fast.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Don’t Know!
You're my light braided revelation, the butterfly whiz and mutter the words of love.
But time and the trip was my way, and I have my holiday.
He sent me a complaint every hour, every moment to cry them to sleep.
I forgot my endure difficult for you, we were to heal.
In my absence, his shadow chaotic stratosphere unclear how it ruined taking the pulse of love your heart beat.
Old demons life difficult and it has your mind, he took me in your heart, I am in the same bowl to him, and so I nipped in the bud choke.
I did everything I could to you, your happiness my first priority, including myself.
But try as I might I might not have enough protest what happens.
I was excited, and you my broken chains and I fell into oblivion.
Loved ones like me, and me to refrain.
A sunset of gold is in the darkness, those crystals from my heart with more cold.
His hands pathetic were breaking my wing reduction.
I love you; please don `t goes.
But my love, you must choose, you must learn that it is your heart, you must use.
I can don’t deception that for yourself, and then I would calmly break for you to break the silence with the name you say over and over again.
I can only say that I Register.
But time and the trip was my way, and I have my holiday.
He sent me a complaint every hour, every moment to cry them to sleep.
I forgot my endure difficult for you, we were to heal.
In my absence, his shadow chaotic stratosphere unclear how it ruined taking the pulse of love your heart beat.
Old demons life difficult and it has your mind, he took me in your heart, I am in the same bowl to him, and so I nipped in the bud choke.
I did everything I could to you, your happiness my first priority, including myself.
But try as I might I might not have enough protest what happens.
I was excited, and you my broken chains and I fell into oblivion.
Loved ones like me, and me to refrain.
A sunset of gold is in the darkness, those crystals from my heart with more cold.
His hands pathetic were breaking my wing reduction.
I love you; please don `t goes.
But my love, you must choose, you must learn that it is your heart, you must use.
I can don’t deception that for yourself, and then I would calmly break for you to break the silence with the name you say over and over again.
I can only say that I Register.
As I Disappear
In the endless blurry in this allure inattentive that I accept that the cats purely contemplate and the impossibility of my healing and to wait...
If I go as the spring came, I felt hope again for a "new, out of the darkness is due, and that I was to light the shadow, a Hello just outside heartbeat.
Me Away, however, fantasies and desires are gone.
I tried to keep, but no desire to stay with me my wrist slit.
Have you ever thought what's next? Like every time you try to your self threw your return? And spit? And I have and tried to be alive, but the time has come, and I knew that to be true.
If an end despite my beggars in the endless blurry in this inattentive allure success I cats and Fur contemplate suck that I have not bad...
And wait for him when I disappear.
In the evening mysticism, the freezing nights still pleasurable clock every morning when I came back from the dead, the advent of night sleep Hunter blood.
Autumn is the autumn fell on us, and that the days went.
I looked inside.
My friends held hands as we skip fate that we moved.
As the clock winded, as well as I.
I hope before, hello.
I thought the man was back boogie, and nobody can care.
That my blood started to boil, as my desire to end my life to end my pain but I kept on fighting, suffered by the hopelessly beautiful nights.
Miss the Northern Lights Because I was too busy to drown in my tears.
Halloween is a sacred aniline advance, that the hope, but slipped into chaos.
I have the impression dive inconsistent... you get the cold.....
I have the impression dive cut itself ... and I am tired...
In the endless blur in this inattentive allure Wednesday as Memories This time, I would like for like every time I’ll wait... as I did disappear.
Sleep consumes, I feel so fucking deaf, I cannot even breathe, don `t believe that the blood, as it cuts! Not believe my body as it roots.
I believe that I am beaten, unless that what I thought.
But his soul, my harlot of this Carnivore purchased.
Trigger for me a bear tricking me a case of torture.
Coldest days are the night’s can I’ve known, and the nights are dark clothing, it would I’ve worn out.
I’d give my life to get warm.
but the summer is done... and I am torn into the infinite blur In this inattentive allure memories are now dreams I believe in me the darkness of sleep schemes another season, I'm dying as I disappear.
If I go as the spring came, I felt hope again for a "new, out of the darkness is due, and that I was to light the shadow, a Hello just outside heartbeat.
Me Away, however, fantasies and desires are gone.
I tried to keep, but no desire to stay with me my wrist slit.
Have you ever thought what's next? Like every time you try to your self threw your return? And spit? And I have and tried to be alive, but the time has come, and I knew that to be true.
If an end despite my beggars in the endless blurry in this inattentive allure success I cats and Fur contemplate suck that I have not bad...
And wait for him when I disappear.
In the evening mysticism, the freezing nights still pleasurable clock every morning when I came back from the dead, the advent of night sleep Hunter blood.
Autumn is the autumn fell on us, and that the days went.
I looked inside.
My friends held hands as we skip fate that we moved.
As the clock winded, as well as I.
I hope before, hello.
I thought the man was back boogie, and nobody can care.
That my blood started to boil, as my desire to end my life to end my pain but I kept on fighting, suffered by the hopelessly beautiful nights.
Miss the Northern Lights Because I was too busy to drown in my tears.
Halloween is a sacred aniline advance, that the hope, but slipped into chaos.
I have the impression dive inconsistent... you get the cold.....
I have the impression dive cut itself ... and I am tired...
In the endless blur in this inattentive allure Wednesday as Memories This time, I would like for like every time I’ll wait... as I did disappear.
Sleep consumes, I feel so fucking deaf, I cannot even breathe, don `t believe that the blood, as it cuts! Not believe my body as it roots.
I believe that I am beaten, unless that what I thought.
But his soul, my harlot of this Carnivore purchased.
Trigger for me a bear tricking me a case of torture.
Coldest days are the night’s can I’ve known, and the nights are dark clothing, it would I’ve worn out.
I’d give my life to get warm.
but the summer is done... and I am torn into the infinite blur In this inattentive allure memories are now dreams I believe in me the darkness of sleep schemes another season, I'm dying as I disappear.
Black Angel Rose
In a world of people, I'm all alone, an angel lost in a world of people, where my people?
I was once, and how happy the same problems and issues, such as you.
But if I supported, which broke my heart and my wings have fallen.
A friend came down, a crow wings.
Reaching for peace, a place where I do not go.
Just as a man, seraphim's dusk.
I was once a man, but now, like an animal, wrapped the commitment I give recommendations and try to exercise restraint.
I look and more, and now it remains to be done, that’s. I'm trying to keep, but I slipped, dropped;
In a world where it is not obvious, in a world where the evil is, and if their times accompanied by evidence there was I lying hopeless.
And in this world is my suffering.
For ever be left behind by my acquaintances.
In the old methods inspire I knew, and in the shade, I will avenge and as the rain falls....
I see why.
In a world where everything I can do is to cry.
I look me in all that’s real, and by his lie, the other reminds me of and surrounded by false happiness, PEOPLE and manipulated, and a world in people, deceiver me.
If people try to kill me, I want is to die but if my heart no longer pumps the reason why I beg be me alive.
People for all that I lost and for all the pain and memories through the gel;
I want to be, they are what in me, but that’s s exactly how they try to kill me, they tell me I can not have this thing that in every time I see my face.
A call from my past, a call from my crazy, but in the end I have one thing that’s true.
A heart that believes a heart interests and even if all laugh, point, and stare.
And all the gangs to me to propose;
But when I touched the ground, it makes a sound, love is nothing, I am a little deeper, even more so, a river of sorrow, where my soul will never go.
So, I sit and look out the window, the world has me again.
I reach for the sky, but the sky has closed its doors to me.
The hatred the sheer lie because everyone in the world that’s good left.
Then on the thorns of the Rose, bite me of the beauty, and the timing of flowering, my blood will be collected.
A blackened heart picks a soul successful.
Tutor to those who sowed the pain.
So I lie down and close your eyes think of a world without me. Hide in the shade until the rain tomorrows.
A little Cry in the silence of pain.
Every friend I help today has more fun the next day.
I have patience, I try to pray.
But when I touch, I have removed.
Now I am awake again, The Black Rose guardian angel yesterday.
In a world prey that’s where I decay, my past stray souls.
And the devil in his I have my freedom...
My love for and gradually with time, I will not and the restoration of demons, to my duty, flood, places of reflection, I can never be.
Protect you dash suffering for what you’ve lived, my attempts, are my eye torture.
When I think that you I see the pain around and the fallen world
I was once, and how happy the same problems and issues, such as you.
But if I supported, which broke my heart and my wings have fallen.
A friend came down, a crow wings.
Reaching for peace, a place where I do not go.
Just as a man, seraphim's dusk.
I was once a man, but now, like an animal, wrapped the commitment I give recommendations and try to exercise restraint.
I look and more, and now it remains to be done, that’s. I'm trying to keep, but I slipped, dropped;
In a world where it is not obvious, in a world where the evil is, and if their times accompanied by evidence there was I lying hopeless.
And in this world is my suffering.
For ever be left behind by my acquaintances.
In the old methods inspire I knew, and in the shade, I will avenge and as the rain falls....
I see why.
In a world where everything I can do is to cry.
I look me in all that’s real, and by his lie, the other reminds me of and surrounded by false happiness, PEOPLE and manipulated, and a world in people, deceiver me.
If people try to kill me, I want is to die but if my heart no longer pumps the reason why I beg be me alive.
People for all that I lost and for all the pain and memories through the gel;
I want to be, they are what in me, but that’s s exactly how they try to kill me, they tell me I can not have this thing that in every time I see my face.
A call from my past, a call from my crazy, but in the end I have one thing that’s true.
A heart that believes a heart interests and even if all laugh, point, and stare.
And all the gangs to me to propose;
But when I touched the ground, it makes a sound, love is nothing, I am a little deeper, even more so, a river of sorrow, where my soul will never go.
So, I sit and look out the window, the world has me again.
I reach for the sky, but the sky has closed its doors to me.
The hatred the sheer lie because everyone in the world that’s good left.
Then on the thorns of the Rose, bite me of the beauty, and the timing of flowering, my blood will be collected.
A blackened heart picks a soul successful.
Tutor to those who sowed the pain.
So I lie down and close your eyes think of a world without me. Hide in the shade until the rain tomorrows.
A little Cry in the silence of pain.
Every friend I help today has more fun the next day.
I have patience, I try to pray.
But when I touch, I have removed.
Now I am awake again, The Black Rose guardian angel yesterday.
In a world prey that’s where I decay, my past stray souls.
And the devil in his I have my freedom...
My love for and gradually with time, I will not and the restoration of demons, to my duty, flood, places of reflection, I can never be.
Protect you dash suffering for what you’ve lived, my attempts, are my eye torture.
When I think that you I see the pain around and the fallen world
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Fourth Song
Only the joy, now, here you are,
Diane to hear, and the ease my care;
What my voice whispers,
Sweet reward for the strong pain;
Take me of you, and you in me.
No, no, no, no, my dear, leave.
In the night, all in his robe,
Glistening stars love lead thoughts:
Danger doth also carefully store,
The jealousy that doth sleep;
Take me of you, and you in me.
No, no, no, no, my dear, leave.
The best minds can not find,
Cupid's yoke to lose or to link:
This sweet flower bed too thin,
-- We in the language of their best woo;
Take me of you, and you in me.
No, no, no, no, my dear, leave.
This little light of the moon,
Give your rays, but reveal
So, I come to higher;
Fear nothing else, we can not announce:
Take me of you, and you in me.
No, no, no, no, my dear, leave.
What did you, but a mouse,
Dumb holes sleep, the whole house;
However, sleeping, Methinks they say,
The young people who take the time while you May:
Take me of you, and you in me.
No, no, no, no, my dear, leave.
Niggard time threats, if we miss
The large range of our happiness,
Langer ere he stay the same;
Sweet then, it is that every thing doth framework,
Take me of you, and you in me.
No, no, no, no, my dear, leave.
Her mother has just Abed,
Candles, curtains and dissemination:
They do not believe that you letters to write.
Letter, but let me first of all to the charge:
Take me of you, and you in me.
No, no, no, no, my dear, leave.
Sweet, unfortunately, why seek to you?
Concord better fitted us:
March, the power of hands,
Your energy for your beauty;
Take me of you, and you in me.
No, no, no, no, my dear, leave.
Woe to me and not you swear
Hate me, but I waive
Cursèd all of my fate
This has me so high in autumn:
A short time with my death I ask you.
No, no, no, no, my dear, leave.
Diane to hear, and the ease my care;
What my voice whispers,
Sweet reward for the strong pain;
Take me of you, and you in me.
No, no, no, no, my dear, leave.
In the night, all in his robe,
Glistening stars love lead thoughts:
Danger doth also carefully store,
The jealousy that doth sleep;
Take me of you, and you in me.
No, no, no, no, my dear, leave.
The best minds can not find,
Cupid's yoke to lose or to link:
This sweet flower bed too thin,
-- We in the language of their best woo;
Take me of you, and you in me.
No, no, no, no, my dear, leave.
This little light of the moon,
Give your rays, but reveal
So, I come to higher;
Fear nothing else, we can not announce:
Take me of you, and you in me.
No, no, no, no, my dear, leave.
What did you, but a mouse,
Dumb holes sleep, the whole house;
However, sleeping, Methinks they say,
The young people who take the time while you May:
Take me of you, and you in me.
No, no, no, no, my dear, leave.
Niggard time threats, if we miss
The large range of our happiness,
Langer ere he stay the same;
Sweet then, it is that every thing doth framework,
Take me of you, and you in me.
No, no, no, no, my dear, leave.
Her mother has just Abed,
Candles, curtains and dissemination:
They do not believe that you letters to write.
Letter, but let me first of all to the charge:
Take me of you, and you in me.
No, no, no, no, my dear, leave.
Sweet, unfortunately, why seek to you?
Concord better fitted us:
March, the power of hands,
Your energy for your beauty;
Take me of you, and you in me.
No, no, no, no, my dear, leave.
Woe to me and not you swear
Hate me, but I waive
Cursèd all of my fate
This has me so high in autumn:
A short time with my death I ask you.
No, no, no, no, my dear, leave.
Not despair
Not despair you are not the man, and he does not booming,
Who are you that you need, when applied to light?
Are you not a man, and in your heart
If there is no war and thoughts of fear and chip?
Are you not afraid, and also in fear of cruel,
Do not, as usual,
Faint goal, the desire to be loved,
Sticking to a virtuous thoughts moved by the beauty?
Like your wife, you keep your dear children,
Secondly, this does not mean that man is reprehensible, but says they are.
But they are not. It's about your judgment
Presumptuous, false, totally pointless, but only your own
Trustless not aim, outdoors,
Done a philosophy prinked, beautified
In fine dress and in the world
To cope with the worst, it is as if the escape.
Oh know your own heart, the heart, that not all bad,
And in the context of the great judges,
If you need to assess, but sympathy with the life,
Or, you hopeless, the fleeing unrest
Who are you that you need, when applied to light?
Are you not a man, and in your heart
If there is no war and thoughts of fear and chip?
Are you not afraid, and also in fear of cruel,
Do not, as usual,
Faint goal, the desire to be loved,
Sticking to a virtuous thoughts moved by the beauty?
Like your wife, you keep your dear children,
Secondly, this does not mean that man is reprehensible, but says they are.
But they are not. It's about your judgment
Presumptuous, false, totally pointless, but only your own
Trustless not aim, outdoors,
Done a philosophy prinked, beautified
In fine dress and in the world
To cope with the worst, it is as if the escape.
Oh know your own heart, the heart, that not all bad,
And in the context of the great judges,
If you need to assess, but sympathy with the life,
Or, you hopeless, the fleeing unrest
Mr Nobody
I know a funny little man,
As quiet as a mouse,
Who is not that bad
In the House of the world!
There is no one never sees his face,
And yet, we are all agreed
What we break one record was broken
By M. Nobody.
It is he still the tears in the books
Who leaves the door
He takes the keys of our booklets,
And scattered Afar-pin;
This squeaking always squeal,
For prithee, you do not see
We leave the oil spill to do
By M. Nobody.
The fingerprints on the door
In none of us are;
We must never allow the curtains unclosed,
To ensure that the curtains.
The inks are we never sense the boots
What makes the rounds lie you see
It is not our boots, they are all
For Mr Nobody.
As quiet as a mouse,
Who is not that bad
In the House of the world!
There is no one never sees his face,
And yet, we are all agreed
What we break one record was broken
By M. Nobody.
It is he still the tears in the books
Who leaves the door
He takes the keys of our booklets,
And scattered Afar-pin;
This squeaking always squeal,
For prithee, you do not see
We leave the oil spill to do
By M. Nobody.
The fingerprints on the door
In none of us are;
We must never allow the curtains unclosed,
To ensure that the curtains.
The inks are we never sense the boots
What makes the rounds lie you see
It is not our boots, they are all
For Mr Nobody.
Bet on all naked
Bet on all naked in his bed,
And I have by throwing;
No headscarf, but the curtains of the spread,
No, but I cover:
Her head looks on the shoulders
Hang in Weisberg negligence,
And many of his reddening cheeks,
And wishes were his eyes.
Her blood is still fresh in his face,
As a message to come
To explain that in another place
This meant another game;
Her cherry lips moist, plump and straight,
Millions of kissing crown,
Those ready and unstopped dangle,
And the branches weighed.
Her chest, so that welled plump and high-quality
Bred pleasant pain in me,
For all the world I do not challenge
How fortunate;
Her thighs and abdomen, soft and straight,
For me only:
To have seen such a meat, and not to eat
Had malcontent entirely of stone.
Poser his knees up slightly,
And all the laity to hollow,
Like so on the terms, it means that they
To separates not forced;
It is sufficient that the Queen does not lie Cyprien,
Expecting in his Bower;
To stay too long had held the boy
After his time promised.
"Clown in color," quote she, "why you retard
such offers happiness?
You can no other way
Similarities to do? “
Mad, I thunder
Start on my arms,
but the smallpox upon was but a dream.
And if I without them.
And I have by throwing;
No headscarf, but the curtains of the spread,
No, but I cover:
Her head looks on the shoulders
Hang in Weisberg negligence,
And many of his reddening cheeks,
And wishes were his eyes.
Her blood is still fresh in his face,
As a message to come
To explain that in another place
This meant another game;
Her cherry lips moist, plump and straight,
Millions of kissing crown,
Those ready and unstopped dangle,
And the branches weighed.
Her chest, so that welled plump and high-quality
Bred pleasant pain in me,
For all the world I do not challenge
How fortunate;
Her thighs and abdomen, soft and straight,
For me only:
To have seen such a meat, and not to eat
Had malcontent entirely of stone.
Poser his knees up slightly,
And all the laity to hollow,
Like so on the terms, it means that they
To separates not forced;
It is sufficient that the Queen does not lie Cyprien,
Expecting in his Bower;
To stay too long had held the boy
After his time promised.
"Clown in color," quote she, "why you retard
such offers happiness?
You can no other way
Similarities to do? “
Mad, I thunder
Start on my arms,
but the smallpox upon was but a dream.
And if I without them.
Friday, July 11, 2008
(“O you mad, you superbly drunk!...”)
Here's another poem by Rabindranath Tagore hope you'll enjoy!!!
(“O you mad, you superbly drunk!...”)
O you mad, you superbly drunk!
If you kick open your doors and play the fool in public;
If you empty your bag in a night, and snap your fingers at prudence;
If you walk in curious paths and play with useless things;
Reck not rhyme or reason;
If you break the rudder in two unfurling your sails before the storm:
Then I will follow you, comrade, and be drunken and go to the dogs.
I have wasted my days and nights in the company of steady wise neighbors.
Much knowing has turned my hair grey, and much watching has made my sight dim.
For years I have gathered and heaped all scraps and fragments of things;
Crush them and dance upon them, and scatter them all to the winds!
For I know ’tis the height of wisdom to be drunken and go to the dogs.
Let all crooked scruples vanish, let me hopelessly lose my way.
Let a gust of wild giddiness come and sweep me away from my anchors.
The world is peopled with worthies, and workers useful and clever;
There are men who are easily the first, and men who come decently next:
Let them be happy and prosperous, and let me be foolishly futile.
For I know ’tis the end of all works to be drunken and go to the dogs.
I swear to surrender this moment all claim to the ranks of the sensible.
I let go my pride of learning and judgment of right and of wrong.
I’ll shatter the vessel of memory, scattering the last drop of tears;
With the foam of the ruby red wine, I’ll bathe and brighten my laughter.
The badge of the proper and prim I’ll tear into shreds for the nonce.
I’ll take the holy vow of being worthless, and be drunken and go to the dog
(“O you mad, you superbly drunk!...”)
O you mad, you superbly drunk!
If you kick open your doors and play the fool in public;
If you empty your bag in a night, and snap your fingers at prudence;
If you walk in curious paths and play with useless things;
Reck not rhyme or reason;
If you break the rudder in two unfurling your sails before the storm:
Then I will follow you, comrade, and be drunken and go to the dogs.
I have wasted my days and nights in the company of steady wise neighbors.
Much knowing has turned my hair grey, and much watching has made my sight dim.
For years I have gathered and heaped all scraps and fragments of things;
Crush them and dance upon them, and scatter them all to the winds!
For I know ’tis the height of wisdom to be drunken and go to the dogs.
Let all crooked scruples vanish, let me hopelessly lose my way.
Let a gust of wild giddiness come and sweep me away from my anchors.
The world is peopled with worthies, and workers useful and clever;
There are men who are easily the first, and men who come decently next:
Let them be happy and prosperous, and let me be foolishly futile.
For I know ’tis the end of all works to be drunken and go to the dogs.
I swear to surrender this moment all claim to the ranks of the sensible.
I let go my pride of learning and judgment of right and of wrong.
I’ll shatter the vessel of memory, scattering the last drop of tears;
With the foam of the ruby red wine, I’ll bathe and brighten my laughter.
The badge of the proper and prim I’ll tear into shreds for the nonce.
I’ll take the holy vow of being worthless, and be drunken and go to the dog
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
(“Lest I should know you...”)
Again this poem is written by Rabindranath Tagore a poet that has amazing style in writing poetry... I really like this poet because of his excellence in writing poetry... Wish I met him but maybe it's too late for me. The only way that i can see him now or meet him is by reading his poem... Hope you'll like this poem as it is written by one of the best poet in the world... Enjoy reading this poem and all the poem posted here in Secondattempt... Good Day...
(“Lest I should know you...”)
Lest I should know you too easily, you play with me.
You blind me with flashes of laughter to hide your tears.
I know, I know your art;
You never say the word you would.
Lest I should prize you not, you elude me in a thousand ways.
Lest I should mix you with the crowd, you stand aside.
I know, I know your art;
You never walk the path you would.
Your claim is more than others; that is why you are silent.
With a playful carelessness you avoid my gifts.
I know, I know your art;
You never accept what you would.
(“Lest I should know you...”)
Lest I should know you too easily, you play with me.
You blind me with flashes of laughter to hide your tears.
I know, I know your art;
You never say the word you would.
Lest I should prize you not, you elude me in a thousand ways.
Lest I should mix you with the crowd, you stand aside.
I know, I know your art;
You never walk the path you would.
Your claim is more than others; that is why you are silent.
With a playful carelessness you avoid my gifts.
I know, I know your art;
You never accept what you would.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
(“Tell me if this is all true...”)
Again a poem from Rabindranath Tagore enjoy reading and please wait for my own poem to be publish here at secondattempt... thank you so much! Hope you'll enjoy reading all the poems here... God bless us all...
Tell me if this is all true, my lover?
tell me if it is true.
When the eyes of me flash their lightning on you,
dark clouds in your breast make stormy answer;
Is it then true that the dew
drops fall from the night when
I am seen,
and the morning light is glad
when it wraps my body?
Is it true, is it true,
that your love travelled alone
through ages and worlds in search of me?
that when you found me at last,
your age-long desire found utter peace
in my gentle speech and my eyes
and lips and flowing hair?
Is it then true that the mystery of the Infinite
is written on this little brow of mine?
Tell me, my lover, if all this is true!
Tell me if this is all true, my lover?
tell me if it is true.
When the eyes of me flash their lightning on you,
dark clouds in your breast make stormy answer;
Is it then true that the dew
drops fall from the night when
I am seen,
and the morning light is glad
when it wraps my body?
Is it true, is it true,
that your love travelled alone
through ages and worlds in search of me?
that when you found me at last,
your age-long desire found utter peace
in my gentle speech and my eyes
and lips and flowing hair?
Is it then true that the mystery of the Infinite
is written on this little brow of mine?
Tell me, my lover, if all this is true!
Thursday, June 26, 2008
“Come as you are..."
This poem is written by Rabindranath Tagore a good and one of my favorite poet... Hope you'll enjoy reading his poem...
“Come as you are..."
Come as you are, tarry not over your toilet.
If your braiding has come loose, if the parting of your hair be not straight, if the ribbons of your bodice be not fastened, do not mind.
Come as you are, tarry not over your toilet.
Come with quick steps over the grass.
If your feet are pale with the dew, if your anklets slacken, if pearls drop out of your chain, do not mind.
Come with quick steps over the grass.
Do you see the clouds wrapping the sky?
Flocks of cranes fly up from the further riverbank and fitful gusts of wind rush over the heath.
The anxious cattle run to their stalls in the village.
Do you see the clouds wrapping the sky?
In vain you light your toilet lamp; it flickers and goes out in the wind.
Surely, who would know that with lamp-black your eyelids are not touched? For your eyes are darker than rain clouds.
In vain you light your toilet lamp; it goes out.
Come as you are, tarry not over your toilet.
If the wreath is not woven, who cares? If the wrist-chain has not been tied, leave it by.
The sky is overcast with clouds; it is late.
Come as you are, tarry not over your toilet.
“Come as you are..."
Come as you are, tarry not over your toilet.
If your braiding has come loose, if the parting of your hair be not straight, if the ribbons of your bodice be not fastened, do not mind.
Come as you are, tarry not over your toilet.
Come with quick steps over the grass.
If your feet are pale with the dew, if your anklets slacken, if pearls drop out of your chain, do not mind.
Come with quick steps over the grass.
Do you see the clouds wrapping the sky?
Flocks of cranes fly up from the further riverbank and fitful gusts of wind rush over the heath.
The anxious cattle run to their stalls in the village.
Do you see the clouds wrapping the sky?
In vain you light your toilet lamp; it flickers and goes out in the wind.
Surely, who would know that with lamp-black your eyelids are not touched? For your eyes are darker than rain clouds.
In vain you light your toilet lamp; it goes out.
Come as you are, tarry not over your toilet.
If the wreath is not woven, who cares? If the wrist-chain has not been tied, leave it by.
The sky is overcast with clouds; it is late.
Come as you are, tarry not over your toilet.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Mad Song
Here's a poem from William Blake, hope you like it as i do... Its a good poem. Enjoy your reading...
Mad Song
The wild winds weep
Mad Song
The wild winds weep
And the night is a-cold;
Come hither, Sleep,
And my griefs infold:
But lo! the morning peeps
Over the eastern steeps,
And the rustling birds of dawn
The earth do scorn.
Lo! to the vault
Of paved heaven,
With sorrow fraught
My notes are driven:
They strike the ear of night,
Make weep the eyes of day;
They make mad the roaring winds,
And with tempests play.
Like a fiend in a cloud,
With howling woe,
After night I do crowd,
And with night will go;
I turn my back to the east,
From whence comforts have increas'd;
For light doth seize my brain
With frantic pain.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Cancel, Repeat, ignore?
Once on a midnight dreary, fingers and bleary narrow vision,
Manuals on the stacked and the waste of paper on the floor,
Longing for the warmth of bed linen, I still sit here to work sheets.
After reaching the bottom line, I took a disk from the tray
I then called the command SAVE and expects the hard disk,
It is the only and nothing more.
Deep in the monitor peering, long I sat there wondering, fear
doubting, while the disk kept sterile, turns a little more out.
But the rest was intact, and the rest are no symbolic significance.
"Save!" I said, "You mother cursed! Save my data!"
One thing that Luminophore answer, and only in that no longer
Just, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"
Was it an illusion, mysterious, some Manic intrusion?
These elections are side effects, which I never had problems before.
I carefully weighed, that the election of the hard disk makes noises playful.
The cursor flashes, stubborn, to start the guy has me a little.
It is clear that I have a button to press an election and no longer,
"Cancel, Repeat, ignore?"
With the fingers pale and trembling, slowly at the keyboard, bending --
Longing for a happy end, in the hope that all would be back,
Praying for a certain guarantee, shy, I did press a button.
But on the screen, which is still the words are as before.
Épouvantable damage they disappear and taunted, have been obsessed, as my patience,
To say, "Cancel, Repeat, ignore?"
I tried the chips wanted and stressed again, but twice as strong.
I was cursed with the machine, I beg the tears from her body, and then I swore.
Now, in desperation powerful and try to make the chance of combinations,
nevertheless, it came the incantation formula, as senseless as before.
The blinking cursor, anger, winking, blinking as nonsense.
There I sat, desperate, exhausted by my own machine accosted.
Getting Up, I turned away and the rhythm of the floor.
And then I saw a terrible sight zipper made a cut through the night.
A glimpse of the horrors about me, me to my heart.
The lightning zapped my previous data is lost, and forever.
Not once, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"
Until now, I do not know the location where the loss of data on the website.
As far as we are demonic world shaped bottom, where loss of data stored,
Beyond the reach of mortal souls, on the airwaves, black holes?
But make sure that the C, Pascal, Lotus, Ashton-Tate and more
You're one day be left to stray, lost to certain Plutonian shore,
Relying on "Cancel, Repeat, ignore?"
Friday, June 13, 2008
In a time of darkness
In a dark time the eye begins
I have my shadow in the deepening shadow;
I hear my echo echo in wood
A Lord of the natural wine to a tree.
I live between the heron and the roitelet,
Animals on the hills and the snakes of the cave.
What is madness, but the nobility of the soul
Across the fact? The day in flames!
I know that the purity of pure despair,
My shadow stuck against a wall to sweat.
The space between the rocks is a cave,
Or way? The edge is what I have.
A storm regular correspondence!
A night with birds, which flows, a moon in shreds,
And in large and twelve days, come again!
A man is good to know what it is --
Even death in a long night tearless,
All forms of natural light illuminating nature.
The nightfall, my light dark, dark, and my wish.
My soul, like a little heat-maddened stolen,
Allows the totals of the threshold. What I am I?
A man, I fell from my fear.
The spirit of itself, and the Spirit of God,
And one is free in the turmoil of the wind.
I have my shadow in the deepening shadow;
I hear my echo echo in wood
A Lord of the natural wine to a tree.
I live between the heron and the roitelet,
Animals on the hills and the snakes of the cave.
What is madness, but the nobility of the soul
Across the fact? The day in flames!
I know that the purity of pure despair,
My shadow stuck against a wall to sweat.
The space between the rocks is a cave,
Or way? The edge is what I have.
A storm regular correspondence!
A night with birds, which flows, a moon in shreds,
And in large and twelve days, come again!
A man is good to know what it is --
Even death in a long night tearless,
All forms of natural light illuminating nature.
The nightfall, my light dark, dark, and my wish.
My soul, like a little heat-maddened stolen,
Allows the totals of the threshold. What I am I?
A man, I fell from my fear.
The spirit of itself, and the Spirit of God,
And one is free in the turmoil of the wind.
Friday, June 6, 2008
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Thursday, June 5, 2008
The child death
He could not die, if the trees were green,
Indeed, he loved the time.
His small hands, when flowers were seen
Web cam for Bluebell,
as it was o'er Greens.
His gaze who knows little about-nosed bee;
He knew that these children spring:
When he was good and the lea
He held one of his hands to sing,
what is his heart filled with glee.
Young children, children of the source!
How can a child die
if butterflies are on the wing,
Green Grass, and such a sky?
How can it die in the spring?
He kept his hands to the white daisy,
and then blue violet,
and it all night in bed
The fact that in green areas grew,
How sweet it childhood pleasure.
And then he just closes its eyes,
and the flowers of reference;
of the esters of birds and eggs does not cause surprise,
He received no flowers;
they met with sighs plaintiffs.
When winter came and blasts have sighed,
And bald was purely and tree,
Given the ease to lie in bed,
His soul seemed with the free software,
He died too silent.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
"Fog"
Night's back before last dream awake,
Holding the dissolution of hands,
What is not a line of older citizens,
But pair of headlamps morning was delayed.
It was when the tears when the wet sheets,
And he continued to medicines
In the steam was the presence of the ocean, mind
From deep water and salt bite.
Here you can find your body,
The hand in front of the face and the face that it touches
Floating eyes, the feet on the ground invisible,
Blur, as in another skin.
Published in any case, because it was morning,
To taste, touch, blind hardness
As the ruins of marble, rock and edges,
Shaver in goose down, couches "achievements of the fist.
Suddenly, it seems, on the waves,
Transmute hanging mineral money,
Before the eyes in the curve metals
This intrusion into the soup lather Queen Anne's Lace.
In a big nothing, a theology.
On the amorphous, an institution edgeless
Or a hunting as a mass of Krause
This rush to the bottom of the sand, put the hunger.
I remember a gang of friends
Courses of a bank of fog along the beach attack.
Seal-black, hot sun
That would be something to eat, they run a laugh.
The fog has arrived. And they were beautiful,
The three boys and a girl, nor in their combination,
And the dissolution of the overrun,
Your stridency, full of faith, always be heard.
Every morning you can breed in a dove like.
The fog itself satisfied with overwhelming
The meager Tau, the watering of doors
0f snails, clams in the wind, and more.
And then almost twelve there was a concentration
As if the sky is trying to smooth a word
-- Or to remember that the right to
Where he is in an area not known.
And knew. Power and Light. Wide Awake.
Holding the dissolution of hands,
What is not a line of older citizens,
But pair of headlamps morning was delayed.
It was when the tears when the wet sheets,
And he continued to medicines
In the steam was the presence of the ocean, mind
From deep water and salt bite.
Here you can find your body,
The hand in front of the face and the face that it touches
Floating eyes, the feet on the ground invisible,
Blur, as in another skin.
Published in any case, because it was morning,
To taste, touch, blind hardness
As the ruins of marble, rock and edges,
Shaver in goose down, couches "achievements of the fist.
Suddenly, it seems, on the waves,
Transmute hanging mineral money,
Before the eyes in the curve metals
This intrusion into the soup lather Queen Anne's Lace.
In a big nothing, a theology.
On the amorphous, an institution edgeless
Or a hunting as a mass of Krause
This rush to the bottom of the sand, put the hunger.
I remember a gang of friends
Courses of a bank of fog along the beach attack.
Seal-black, hot sun
That would be something to eat, they run a laugh.
The fog has arrived. And they were beautiful,
The three boys and a girl, nor in their combination,
And the dissolution of the overrun,
Your stridency, full of faith, always be heard.
Every morning you can breed in a dove like.
The fog itself satisfied with overwhelming
The meager Tau, the watering of doors
0f snails, clams in the wind, and more.
And then almost twelve there was a concentration
As if the sky is trying to smooth a word
-- Or to remember that the right to
Where he is in an area not known.
And knew. Power and Light. Wide Awake.
Magic
We have Booth by old farmer on the spot.
Robust and it was right, his body steel
With tenacity and age. We have our eyes
Flinched who never shot or compromise,
And "opportunity", he cried, "good luck!" And a sign, arms,
Knotted boat and how, how, for example, farm
In each of Maine was able to boast, and the difference
He turned back on the amount of his new hair cut hay. . .
It was a pleasant, to curve
He has once more demonstrated now works in the late
At a big way to its eighty years
As the flags in the wind lifted thunder.
Then we have suddenly taken off the road
Cup village, the one with the commander
Looking from the river. And we Strode
Faster now on the long pier which has shown
If the fragile boats were kept Indian Landing.
In the dinghy, we strengthened our paddle hardened
The decline in leisure, and the thin bark glided
Information on the water. Well then
We turned the nose curling against the current,
Feeling the rise of the river half a deterrent
Pull out the range that we turned the blade
In order not swerving rounds, while we delayed
To the curious wavelength eaten locks;
Or pass, with lazy, alternately, picnic rocks ....
Blue eels flew among us, and the fish dieted
A thousand possibilities, the great chain, once declined.
And about the wise and noble heart
Twilight tilted downwards, the sunset, fog were separated --
And we, with reflections on tiptoe, slunk
Down the green, the rotation of the streets Kennebunk,
Property in meadows
The trees, rocks, the cows. . .
And quiet drips from the shadows
As the heavy rain parts.
The tree toads are ringing
The constant bells money;
A country without a breeze came coast swing
His country incense boiler odors.
The Little River Canyon
Ausdehnend in dark areas;
Like a dark and silent companion
Evening was held in his hand.
Maire the twilight bravadoes;
For lunch, cut a scream --
And quietly slipped the shadow
In gliding stars from the sky. . .
It must be one hour longer, or later,
If the stagnation again through the forest Piney,
We thought that the years fly back, fraternity
The forests We had and we have seen the satyre!
There is a swimming pool, until her neck, when he returned
And to see smile we look infidels --
To surprise, not to forget the fear or theft.
Feeling the threat in the night tricky,
We have turned, if the execution is here, he called to us!
With our behalf much he called it. We have made
With squealing the courage to Avenue
From birches, until we have seen, the compensation,
(Not by a more sensitive, light green light)
Familiar curves and shrubs, user-friendly way --
And Farmer Booth by wood in his bath!
The wood is on his background, every tree
Resemblant part of it, and was created, and the release of
The beauty of this serenity Theodosius;
The power of the silence of age, the smiles and squared
His shoulders against the clock. . . And in the same night
Free in and out of it, as if the contents
With such a native element;
frosh, a spirit completely
Like the old, as well as Placid and confident. . .
Sideways we shot. More and shiny and unclad
He made a leap in the bank, the light like a boy,
His body drops in the moonlight stars. . .
We went back in through the pasture bars.
Robust and it was right, his body steel
With tenacity and age. We have our eyes
Flinched who never shot or compromise,
And "opportunity", he cried, "good luck!" And a sign, arms,
Knotted boat and how, how, for example, farm
In each of Maine was able to boast, and the difference
He turned back on the amount of his new hair cut hay. . .
It was a pleasant, to curve
He has once more demonstrated now works in the late
At a big way to its eighty years
As the flags in the wind lifted thunder.
Then we have suddenly taken off the road
Cup village, the one with the commander
Looking from the river. And we Strode
Faster now on the long pier which has shown
If the fragile boats were kept Indian Landing.
In the dinghy, we strengthened our paddle hardened
The decline in leisure, and the thin bark glided
Information on the water. Well then
We turned the nose curling against the current,
Feeling the rise of the river half a deterrent
Pull out the range that we turned the blade
In order not swerving rounds, while we delayed
To the curious wavelength eaten locks;
Or pass, with lazy, alternately, picnic rocks ....
Blue eels flew among us, and the fish dieted
A thousand possibilities, the great chain, once declined.
And about the wise and noble heart
Twilight tilted downwards, the sunset, fog were separated --
And we, with reflections on tiptoe, slunk
Down the green, the rotation of the streets Kennebunk,
Property in meadows
The trees, rocks, the cows. . .
And quiet drips from the shadows
As the heavy rain parts.
The tree toads are ringing
The constant bells money;
A country without a breeze came coast swing
His country incense boiler odors.
The Little River Canyon
Ausdehnend in dark areas;
Like a dark and silent companion
Evening was held in his hand.
Maire the twilight bravadoes;
For lunch, cut a scream --
And quietly slipped the shadow
In gliding stars from the sky. . .
It must be one hour longer, or later,
If the stagnation again through the forest Piney,
We thought that the years fly back, fraternity
The forests We had and we have seen the satyre!
There is a swimming pool, until her neck, when he returned
And to see smile we look infidels --
To surprise, not to forget the fear or theft.
Feeling the threat in the night tricky,
We have turned, if the execution is here, he called to us!
With our behalf much he called it. We have made
With squealing the courage to Avenue
From birches, until we have seen, the compensation,
(Not by a more sensitive, light green light)
Familiar curves and shrubs, user-friendly way --
And Farmer Booth by wood in his bath!
The wood is on his background, every tree
Resemblant part of it, and was created, and the release of
The beauty of this serenity Theodosius;
The power of the silence of age, the smiles and squared
His shoulders against the clock. . . And in the same night
Free in and out of it, as if the contents
With such a native element;
frosh, a spirit completely
Like the old, as well as Placid and confident. . .
Sideways we shot. More and shiny and unclad
He made a leap in the bank, the light like a boy,
His body drops in the moonlight stars. . .
We went back in through the pasture bars.
Here I'am Waiting
I am the waiting list for my case to come to
and I'm in the queue
for a revival of wonder
and I am one of the waiting list for
to really discover America
and Wail
and I'm in the queue
for the discovery
a new frontier of the Western symbolic
and I'm in the queue
American Eagle
really to spread its wings
and again and fly
and I'm in the queue
for the age of anxiety
up dead
and I'm in the queue
that the war be fought
, A safer world
for anarchy
and I'm in the queue
for the last withering away
all governments,
and I am still in the queue
a revival of wonder
I am waiting list for the second coming
and I'm in the queue
for a religious renewal
Scan through the Arizona State
and I'm in the queue
Grapes for the wrath of the store
and I'm in the queue
demonstrate
God is really that U.S. --
and I'm in the queue
to see God on television
Church leadership on the altars
if only they can find
the right channel
to listen to
and I'm in the queue
for the Last Supper to be served again
with a new and strange drinks
and I am still in the queue
a revival of wonder
I am the waiting list for my phone number
and I'm in the queue
for the army to take the Hello is
and I'm in the queue
for the mild blessed
and inherit the earth
Without taxes
and I'm in the queue
for the forest and the animals
returned to the earth than its
and I'm in the queue
for a way to evolve
destroy all nationalisms
person without killing
and I'm in the queue
for linnets and planets to fall like the rain
and I am waiting list for the lovers and weepers
Sleeping together again
in a new renaissance of wonder
I am waiting list for the Great Divide to overcome
and I am impatiently waiting
To learn the secrets of eternal life to discover
by an obscure family doctor
and I'm in the queue
for the storms of life
more
and I'm in the queue
, The course to happiness
and I'm in the queue
for a new Mayflower
to reach America
with its history and the image of TV rights
sold in advance for the autochthonous
and I'm in the queue
the loss of music for his new
in the lost continent
in a new renaissance of wonder
I am the waiting list for the day
market that all things clearly
and I am in anticipation of revenge
for what America has
Tom Sawyer
and I'm in the queue
for Alice in Wonderland
for forwarding to me
his dream of total innocence
and I'm in the queue
Childe Roland for future
The last round of the darker
and I'm in the queue
for Aphrodite
grow live arms
At the end of a conference on disarmament
in a new renaissance of wonder
I'm in the queue
for some intimations
immortality
recollecting from my early childhood
and I'm in the queue
Tomorrow, on the Green to come back
Silent films small green fields come back again
and I'm in the queue
for certain stem cells do not intentionally art
to operate, my typewriter
and I am responsible for the letter
the great poem indelible
and I'm in the queue
Enthusiasm for the last negligence too long
and I am still in the queue
for lovers of escape to the Grecian Urn
the other, over the past
and adopt
and I'm in the queue
over and over
a revival of wonder
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
I'm Alone
Ah! that is why the Church site on this page
Poor lorn a little. errant Dost Thou?
Thy slightly undulating, but hide the locks
The tears that your blue eyes dim-ray;
And so you complain and moan,
And cry, you're alone?
You will not be left alone, poor boy,
The traveler stops to hear your story;
No heart, as hard as you chew!
Indeed, if your mother is played by the pale
And among the height at the grave stone,
You are not, Urchin, left alone.
I know you well! your hair yellow
Silky In many cases I have seen:
Your face and dimpled fresh and fair,
Roguish your smile, your mischievous preliminary figures
When all to me, a poor orphan, is known,
Ere Fate had left you alone!
Thy russet fur scans, and back-and-messengering,
Your pale cheek is now deadly!
Your eyes are dark, your looks forlorn,
And your topless conforms to the Galleries;
And I hear you groan often deeply,
Whether you, poor boy, left alone art.
Thy painfully bare feet are injured
With thorns, the crossroads of streets of your newspaper;
The winds of winter for you shout,
The church yard is your home dark;
Your pillows now a tombstone cold --
And you truelove's mourning alone!
The rain has drenched you, throughout the night;
Frost nipping your breasts frozen;
And after as before, shadows under the ifs,
I have heard your woes sigh artless;
I have heard of you, until the star has shone day
In the darkness and cry cry alone!
Often, I saw you, boy,
After your stepmother knee;
Indeed, whether they lived, you value their joy,
Although now you must be mourner!
For it is weak, where the stone Ie serious
Announce that you are left alone.
Wines, not crying, there on the hill
The bells ring gay village;
The funny reeds and brawling Rill
Call sport rustic away from you.
So why moan and groan and cry,
A crowd of only truant?
"I can not climb the green hills,
I can not keep pace Highlands mead;
I can not participate in the valley
To hear strange retentiveness technique:
For all remains under Ice stone,
Where is my poor mother left alone!
"I can not pick flowers Seeing
Dress hard on the scene revels
I can not spend the evening
Among the noisy crowd of village;
For alone and in darkness
My mother sleeps under Ice stone.
"You see, like the stars beginning to shine,
The dog-sheep cloche's time;
The night-fly "buzzing the beam moon
Peeps-through the trees if "shady line:
It falls on the white stone,
Where is my dear mother sleeps alone.
"O stay does not myself, because I must go,
Upland The path to tread in haste;
For them grow pale primroses,
They thrive on the dress my mother's bed.
You have to peep before the time of day, strewn,
Wherever they read all the formation of mold alone.
"My father o'er the sea storm
In distant countries were taken into city,
And my mother stayed still with me,
And toiled crying night and day.
And I will never be an end of the stone
Where is the one she left for sleep.
"My father died, and again, I found
My mother loves and friendly to me;
I felt with the removal of the breast links
When I first caused to the knee --
And then my child loud bang,
And no reflection on the tombstone of IE.
"No longer gentle voice, I hear,
No smile to see their preference;
So I wonder not break the scales
She died would have to follow me!
And she still sleeps under Ice stone,
And I live alone to cry.
"Your mischievous child, he liked her,
Senior Cliff what Ive seen;
I heard the sound of tinkling bell far,
What are the seemed of aid in vain to call --
I have heard the end of the suffering innocent groan,
Grieved and he was left alone.
"Our faithful dog crazy grew up and died,
The Lightning smote Our holiday house down --
We did not have a resting place beside,
And knew that we should not go:
Indeed, we were poor and the hearts of stone
If ever palpitate in misery's groan.
"My mother has survived, nor for me,
She me concentrate on the front mountain
You watched me, while there tree
I sat, and the branch webfeet oozier;
And she wept often, not afraid, myself!
You should not, young to be left alone. "
"The blast furnace was blowing strong, the torrent Rose
And brought our children shattered reads:
And where the clear stream flows rapidly,
On the lawn at the dawn of day,
If the sun seemed full of light shine,
I wandered, friendless and alone! "
You're not the case, a young, I saw
Thy tiny traces of pressure dew,
And while the morning sky herein
Spread o'er the hill a yellow hue,
I heard your sad and plaintive groan,
In addition to the Stone Cold sepulchral.
And if summer time noontide
In sweltering rays of the campaign to disseminate
I marked, weaving fragrant flowers
To make your bed bridge mother silent!
Even in the stone church site is simple
Value you ill Urchin left alone.
Jae ate followed along the valley,
And the forest shadowy Way:
I heard your sad story
How slowly sunk star du jour:
In addition, glittering light, if it is stolen
From a value of all immigrants alone.
"O! Yes, I was! East, and yet
A hiker, sadness and forlorn;
Indeed, what everyone else for me --
What are the dews and buds of tomorrow?
As she left me sad that alone
In the darkness sleeps under Ice stone!
N''Lame brother fall for me,
Indeed, I never knew no brother;
Not to share the fate of my friend cry,
For friends are rare and only a few tears;
No, I can see, save yourself in this stone,
Where I'm going to stay and cry alone.
"My father never return,
It lies below sea level-green wave
I have no relationship by mourning
When I hidden in the tomb there:
Not on a dress with flowers stone!
So, certainly, I am left alone!
Poor lorn a little. errant Dost Thou?
Thy slightly undulating, but hide the locks
The tears that your blue eyes dim-ray;
And so you complain and moan,
And cry, you're alone?
You will not be left alone, poor boy,
The traveler stops to hear your story;
No heart, as hard as you chew!
Indeed, if your mother is played by the pale
And among the height at the grave stone,
You are not, Urchin, left alone.
I know you well! your hair yellow
Silky In many cases I have seen:
Your face and dimpled fresh and fair,
Roguish your smile, your mischievous preliminary figures
When all to me, a poor orphan, is known,
Ere Fate had left you alone!
Thy russet fur scans, and back-and-messengering,
Your pale cheek is now deadly!
Your eyes are dark, your looks forlorn,
And your topless conforms to the Galleries;
And I hear you groan often deeply,
Whether you, poor boy, left alone art.
Thy painfully bare feet are injured
With thorns, the crossroads of streets of your newspaper;
The winds of winter for you shout,
The church yard is your home dark;
Your pillows now a tombstone cold --
And you truelove's mourning alone!
The rain has drenched you, throughout the night;
Frost nipping your breasts frozen;
And after as before, shadows under the ifs,
I have heard your woes sigh artless;
I have heard of you, until the star has shone day
In the darkness and cry cry alone!
Often, I saw you, boy,
After your stepmother knee;
Indeed, whether they lived, you value their joy,
Although now you must be mourner!
For it is weak, where the stone Ie serious
Announce that you are left alone.
Wines, not crying, there on the hill
The bells ring gay village;
The funny reeds and brawling Rill
Call sport rustic away from you.
So why moan and groan and cry,
A crowd of only truant?
"I can not climb the green hills,
I can not keep pace Highlands mead;
I can not participate in the valley
To hear strange retentiveness technique:
For all remains under Ice stone,
Where is my poor mother left alone!
"I can not pick flowers Seeing
Dress hard on the scene revels
I can not spend the evening
Among the noisy crowd of village;
For alone and in darkness
My mother sleeps under Ice stone.
"You see, like the stars beginning to shine,
The dog-sheep cloche's time;
The night-fly "buzzing the beam moon
Peeps-through the trees if "shady line:
It falls on the white stone,
Where is my dear mother sleeps alone.
"O stay does not myself, because I must go,
Upland The path to tread in haste;
For them grow pale primroses,
They thrive on the dress my mother's bed.
You have to peep before the time of day, strewn,
Wherever they read all the formation of mold alone.
"My father o'er the sea storm
In distant countries were taken into city,
And my mother stayed still with me,
And toiled crying night and day.
And I will never be an end of the stone
Where is the one she left for sleep.
"My father died, and again, I found
My mother loves and friendly to me;
I felt with the removal of the breast links
When I first caused to the knee --
And then my child loud bang,
And no reflection on the tombstone of IE.
"No longer gentle voice, I hear,
No smile to see their preference;
So I wonder not break the scales
She died would have to follow me!
And she still sleeps under Ice stone,
And I live alone to cry.
"Your mischievous child, he liked her,
Senior Cliff what Ive seen;
I heard the sound of tinkling bell far,
What are the seemed of aid in vain to call --
I have heard the end of the suffering innocent groan,
Grieved and he was left alone.
"Our faithful dog crazy grew up and died,
The Lightning smote Our holiday house down --
We did not have a resting place beside,
And knew that we should not go:
Indeed, we were poor and the hearts of stone
If ever palpitate in misery's groan.
"My mother has survived, nor for me,
She me concentrate on the front mountain
You watched me, while there tree
I sat, and the branch webfeet oozier;
And she wept often, not afraid, myself!
You should not, young to be left alone. "
"The blast furnace was blowing strong, the torrent Rose
And brought our children shattered reads:
And where the clear stream flows rapidly,
On the lawn at the dawn of day,
If the sun seemed full of light shine,
I wandered, friendless and alone! "
You're not the case, a young, I saw
Thy tiny traces of pressure dew,
And while the morning sky herein
Spread o'er the hill a yellow hue,
I heard your sad and plaintive groan,
In addition to the Stone Cold sepulchral.
And if summer time noontide
In sweltering rays of the campaign to disseminate
I marked, weaving fragrant flowers
To make your bed bridge mother silent!
Even in the stone church site is simple
Value you ill Urchin left alone.
Jae ate followed along the valley,
And the forest shadowy Way:
I heard your sad story
How slowly sunk star du jour:
In addition, glittering light, if it is stolen
From a value of all immigrants alone.
"O! Yes, I was! East, and yet
A hiker, sadness and forlorn;
Indeed, what everyone else for me --
What are the dews and buds of tomorrow?
As she left me sad that alone
In the darkness sleeps under Ice stone!
N''Lame brother fall for me,
Indeed, I never knew no brother;
Not to share the fate of my friend cry,
For friends are rare and only a few tears;
No, I can see, save yourself in this stone,
Where I'm going to stay and cry alone.
"My father never return,
It lies below sea level-green wave
I have no relationship by mourning
When I hidden in the tomb there:
Not on a dress with flowers stone!
So, certainly, I am left alone!
Welcome To My Site
hi I'm Alex and welcome to the little part of my site! Here you can find poems that can relieve your stress just a little. You can forget about the world full of hardship that you can't imagine your being down. Hope you'll find your way to tranquility and peace of mind. Stay in touch and let this site free your soul.... Enjoy your reading....!
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You can also try my other site. Just click a link below; Thank you!
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