Romance ~

  • Thought ~
    Thought, I love thought. But not the juggling and twisting of already existent ideas I despise that self-important game. Thought is the welling up of unknown life into consciousness, Thought is the testing of statements on the touchstone of consciousness, Thought is gazing onto the face of life and reading what can be read, Thought […]
  • DON’T DO IT ~
    I think Charles Bukowski is the greatest poet of the 20th century-bar none. He came to the party late, not writing his first poetry until he was 35 years of age. But ageism is one of those self inflicted human curses that plague western society. Physical beauty is a fleeting, ephemeral creature, but inner beauty […]
  • A Lover’s Envy – Henry Van Dyke
    I envy every flower that blows Along the meadow where she goes, And every bird that sings to her, And every breeze that brings to her The fragrance of the rose. I envy every poet’s rhyme That moves her heart at even time, And every tree that wears for her Its brightest bloom, and bears […]
  • ~ A Passing Bell – David Herbert
    Mournfully to and fro, to and fro the trees are waving; What did you say, my dear? The rain-bruised leaves are suddenly shaken, as a child Asleep still shakes in the clutch of a sob Yes, my love, I hear. One lonely bell, one only, the storm-tossed afternoon is braving, Why not let it ring? […]
  • ~ Weather – Ambrose Bierce
    Once I dipt into the future far as human eye could see, And I saw the Chief Forecaster, dead as anyone can be Dead and damned and shut in Hades as a liar from his birth, With a record of unreason seldom paralleled on earth. While I looked he reared him solemnly, that incandescent youth, […]

Romance, who loves to nod and sing

With drowsy head and folded wing

Among the green leaves as they


Far down within some shadowy lake,

To me a painted paroquetHath been—most familiar bird—Taught me my alphabet to say

To lisp my very earliest word

While in the wild wood I did lie,

A child—with a most knowing eye.

Of late, eternal condor years

So shake the very Heaven on high

With tumult as they thunder by,

I have no time for idle cares

Through gazing on the unquiet sky;

And when an hour with calmer wingsIts down upon my spirit flings,

That little time with lyre and rhymeTo while away—forbidden things—My heart would feel to be a crimeUnless it trembled with the strings.

By ace101

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