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Don Quixote
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Topic: Very Short Poems - up to 8 Lines Posted: 26-Jan-2012 at 03:15 |
Emily Dickinson HIS mind, of man a secret makes, | |
I meet him with a start, | |
He carries a circumference | |
In which I have no part, | |
Or even if I deem I do— | 5 |
He otherwise may know. | |
Impregnable to inquest, | |
However neighborly. |
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Don Quixote
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Posted: 04-Jan-2012 at 00:11 |
. . . You call impossibilities but other names, and cover them with wild flowers and all But still impossibilities they are, and on the ground they are bound to fall Like snowflakes heavy with itself are drawn down like smelted lead Like birds in hurricane, like ships crushed in waves, like bullets in the head
And there is no power on Earth that can stop them - as being bound down Like some horrendous flight, that turns in fight with the gravity is drown And the direction in which to go is dragging itself on the ground So take your eyes away and don't insist to stop the rain - just go without sound. DQ
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Don Quixote
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Posted: 28-Dec-2011 at 18:22 |
. . . Don't rend your shirt in front of me in some pathetic lecture- Not your shirt, your chest to rend for me is empty gesture. The loudest the clamor is the falseness to conceal And learned play and borrowed style don't make the real deal.
You can make one fall in love with an image pasted - But the truth will come out and love will be wasted. Don't waste time to run behind me and try to get me back - I have no time for circus tricks and for poor parlor acts. DQ
Edited by Don Quixote - 28-Dec-2011 at 18:23
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Don Quixote
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Posted: 28-Dec-2011 at 15:37 |
Anna Akhmatova - Echo There’re no paths to where the former gone is.
I don’t crave for the passed by long ago.
And what is there? The lit with blood floor stones,
The immur’d and forgotten door,
Or echo which still doesn’t have any patience
To be quite mute, though I’ve prayed much for that…
This helpless echo fell in the same station,
In which is one in my heart set.
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Don Quixote
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Posted: 27-Dec-2011 at 01:32 |
Emily Dickinson GLORY is that bright tragic thing, | |
That for an instant | |
Means Dominion, | |
Warms some poor name | |
That never felt the sun, | 5 |
Gently replacing | |
In oblivion. |
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Chookie
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Joined: 14-Apr-2008
Location: Alba
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Posted: 25-Dec-2011 at 16:30 |
Walk light on the land (Chookie)
Walk light on the land,
cause no hurt to the earth, live from your heart, not from your head. Be what you are, not what you're told.
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For money you did what guns could not do.........
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Don Quixote
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Posted: 18-Dec-2011 at 16:36 |
Emily Dickinson: IF what we could were what we would— | |
Criterion be small; | |
It is the Ultimate of talk | |
The impotence to tell. | |
Edited by Don Quixote - 18-Dec-2011 at 16:39
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Don Quixote
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Posted: 14-Dec-2011 at 23:51 |
Emily Dickinson: NO romance sold unto, | |
Could so enthrall a man | |
As the perusal of | |
His individual one. | |
’T is fiction’s, to dilute | 5 |
To plausibility | |
Our novel, when ’t is small enough | |
To credit,—’t isn’t true! |
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Don Quixote
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Posted: 13-Dec-2011 at 01:16 |
In Instance
It happened instantly and inforgivingly - like Death. And what is dead cannot be resurrected. Don't try to water a dead plant, or feed dead mouse - In vain is it, in vain will be yet.
It's easy to kill a Butterfly - one only needs To smear her wings and the fairies' dreams Will shrink in an instant and shrivel like wings Of dead Nymphs - dry and gone. It's Done. DQ
Edited by Don Quixote - 13-Dec-2011 at 01:21
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Don Quixote
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Posted: 13-Dec-2011 at 00:44 |
Lament
Even Rain - crustal clear, pure, fine Runs like mid when brought into dust And mixed with dirt, turns into sticky mud. When looked upon in this way Crystal Rain is only dirty stain.
And Rain cannot be rain no more. Don't ask the Rain to rain no more For Rain is dead. Weep for Rain, for Rain is gone. DQ
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Don Quixote
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Posted: 05-Dec-2011 at 03:25 |
Dark It Is
Dark time is coming in a storm And flows over my breath - But not this time and not this space I will regret,
Not this touch and not this silence Not this cry and not those words - I'll not regret you, my very close One While the Earth still moves. DQ
Edited by Don Quixote - 07-Dec-2011 at 18:44
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Nick1986
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Posted: 22-Nov-2011 at 20:10 |
Bilbo's Last Song
Day is ended, dim my eyes,
but journey long before me lies.
Farewell, friends! I hear the call.
The ship’s beside the stony wall.
Foam is white and waves are grey;
beyond the sunset leads my way.
Foam is salt, the wind is free;
I hear the rising of the Sea.
Farewell, friends! The sails are set,
the wind is east, the moorings fret.
Shadows long before me lie,
beneath the ever-bending sky,
but islands lie behind the Sun
that I shall raise ere all is done;
lands there are to west of West,
where night is quiet and sleep is rest.
Guided by the Lonely Star,
beyond the utmost harbour-bar,
I’ll find the heavens fair and free,
and beaches of the Starlit Sea.
Ship, my ship! I seek the West,
and fields and mountains ever blest.
Farewell to Middle-earth at last.
I see the Star above my mast!
— J. R. R. Tolkein (1892 - 1973)
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Me Grimlock not nice Dino! Me bash brains!
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Don Quixote
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Posted: 15-Nov-2011 at 02:13 |
Devising Ways To Keep You With Me
I'm wrapping your image around my wrist - with a kiss, a touch, and twist So I can have you in my day - come what may. I'm planting you all over in my skin in a thousand seeds of light - within - So I can have you in my night - dark or bright.
I'm dipping my fingers in you - so with you they are imbued, So I have you every hour - with the same power. I'm drinking my eyes on you - so they on you are drunk So they see you everywhere I look - and in you be sunk. DQ
Edited by Don Quixote - 15-Nov-2011 at 02:14
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Don Quixote
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Posted: 12-Nov-2011 at 23:50 |
On Wasting Time
I was being cavalier in managing my time with you Wasting moments in not kissing and embracing Wasting moments in not at your face gazing Wasting time without adoration - of you.
Now how I beg a moment to have spared So I can hug you close and get replenished So I can kiss you and get myself renewed Now how I beg for a second more with you! DQ
Edited by Don Quixote - 12-Nov-2011 at 23:52
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Don Quixote
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Posted: 07-Nov-2011 at 15:43 |
My Dreams
My dreams are full of your hands - And the clouds Your hands are trains rolling on my rails Out of bounds
Your hands are ships floating on my waves And submarines are are diving in my depths Your hands are planes taking me in, taking me up My dreams - full of your hands - are my haven on earth. DQ
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Don Quixote
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Posted: 04-Nov-2011 at 17:14 |
So Beautiful and Not a Dream
I was dreaming in a dream which I dreamt That I was sleeping and your eyes on me were spent Whit such tenderness I've no words to describe Radiating towards me sweet delight.
I was so overwhelmed by such a bliss That my eyes were afraid that they will it miss They slightly opened and I looked and my mind did bent When I noticed that your eyes on me were spent. DQ
Edited by Don Quixote - 04-Nov-2011 at 23:39
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Don Quixote
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Posted: 31-Oct-2011 at 14:03 |
Time Out of Time In
The time is flowing again like a river in spring when The snow is melting in the mountains and pouring in them In a outburst of beating water and crystal whipping foam Breaking the light in thousand pieces, light like only light can be Hitting urging going on itself fierce and out like you do on me In a day when the fences are taken down and the air is steamed And the time is in limbo and sliding in the bended inside of a ring Sliding on itself like I slide on you...like in March...the air smells of spring. DQ
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PADDYBOY
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Posted: 31-Oct-2011 at 12:35 |
Just a wee ditty that was hammered into my head when I was a youngster.
The auld broon troot lay unner a stane, Unner a stane lay he, An he thocht o' the wund, An he thocht o' the rain, An the troot that he uist tae be. A'm a gey auld troot, said he tae hissel, A gey auld troot, said he, An there's mony a queer-like Tale A cuid tell O' the things that hae happened tae me. They wee-hafflin trooties are aa verra smart, They're aa verra smert, said he, They ken aa the rules O' the gemm aff by hairt, An they're no aften catched, A'll agree. They're thinkin A'm auld an they're thinkin A'm duin, They're thinkin A'm duin, said he, They're thinkin A'm no Worth the flirt o' a fin Or the blink o' a bonnie black ee. But A'm safe an A'm smug in ma bonnie wee neuk, A'm safe an A'm snug, said he, A'm the big fush that Nae fusher can heuk, An A'll aye be that - till A dee!
I was forced to memorize this poem when I was about six years old. I didn't understand a word of it and am somewhat surprised that I have never forgotten it.
PS For those who don't understand it. It's basically saying that elderly are a heck of a lot smarter/wiser than the young uns.
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Don Quixote
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Posted: 31-Oct-2011 at 12:12 |
Originally posted by Centrix Vigilis
There once was a poet named DQ..whose love of writing about love was the cue. Late thru the night well into the light.. Was the verse rendered.. with such passionate might. That all who read it...day or night exclaimed their admiration and delight.
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Thank you, Centrix, I'm quite flattered .
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Centrix Vigilis
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Posted: 30-Oct-2011 at 21:30 |
There once was a poet named DQ.. whose love of writing about love was the cue. Late thru the night well into the light.. Was the verse rendered.. with such passionate might. That all who read it...day or night exclaimed their admiration and delight.
Edited by Centrix Vigilis - 30-Oct-2011 at 22:41
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"Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence"
S. T. Friedman
Pilger's law: 'If it's been officially denied, then it's probably true'
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