The Windmill – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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Behold! a giant am I!
Aloft here in my tower,
With my granite jaws I devour
The maize, and the wheat, and the rye,
And grind them into flour.

I look down over the farms;
In the fields of grain I see
The harvest that is to be,
And I fling to the air my arms,
For I know it is all for me.

I hear the sound of flails
Far off, from the threshing-floors
In barns, with their open doors,
And the wind, the wind in my sails,
Louder and louder roars.

I stand here in my place,
With my foot on the rock below,
And whichever way it may blow,
I meet it face to face,
As a brave man meets his foe.

And while we wrestle and strive,
My master, the miller, stands
And feeds me with his hands;
For he knows who makes him thrive,
Who makes him lord of lands.

On Sundays I take my rest;
Church-going bells begin
Their low, melodious din;
I cross my arms on my breast,
And all is peace within.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Gif: gifimage.net

toward the east: for Qiaoen

Leonard Durso

the scent of jasmine
hangs in the air
the cup of tea
grows cold on the desk
a lone dog
howls in the dark
the clock on the wall
ticks away the night
and my mind
turns toward the east
five long hours away
where the morning sun
shines high in the sky
and this planet earth
is graced by her smile

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When You Think Of Her ~ Neil Gaiman

There are a hundred things she has tried to chase away the things she won’t remember and that she can’t even let herself think about because that’s when the birds scream and the worms crawl and somewhere in her mind it’s always raining a slow and endless drizzle.

You will hear that she has left the country, that there was a gift she wanted you to have, but it is lost before it reaches you. Late one night the telephone will sign, and a voice that might be hers will say something that you cannot interpret before the connection crackles and is broken.

Several years later, from a taxi, you will see someone in a doorway who looks like her, but she will be gone by the time you persuade the driver to stop. You will never see her again.

Whenever it rains you will think of her.

Neil Gaiman

GoodReads

Stay

Gems And Stars- Poetry and Prose

What do you when you’re drowning
Do you pull every branch out there
Do you hold on to the shallow ends in the hope they’ll keep you safe
Do you let someone try to keep you from drowning
And take them down with you

When you’re falling
Do you panic and ruin everything around you like the storm that you are
Do you avoid the deep ends
Or do you take every rope extended to you that makes you stayz

When you’re running away
Do you take those you love with you
Or do you leave them behind for their own good
Do you kiss them goodbye

So when you’re drowning
Falling
And running away
How do you stumble upon your perserverance and indefatigable efforts and stay where you are?

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Shane Koyczan: The Story Of Now From GRID13

this wind

Leonard Durso

this wind that howls
outside my windows
spraying rain at times
on the terraces the balconies
this wind that moans
beyond my windows
is the only music
I listen to
and for reasons unexplained
comforts me
more than Sibelius
or Ralph Vaughan Williams
could today

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no. 23

(re)imagining the mundane

sunday music

the people downstairs are singing

their piano thrums through my floor

maybe it is a rehearsal for they are far from perfect

still, it is endearing, the hint of harmony

the love that resonates in their vocals

the pianist slowly sheds performance anxiety

for authoritativeness as the holder of the

rhythm, tempo and dynamics

i listen, i imagine myself there with them

from my upstairs chair

i open my mouth and harmonize with

ooohs and aahs even though i know the words

but then, their music peters out:

i wonder did they hear me and take offense

next time i will just listen, an imaginary audience,

and wrap myself in the music of their lazy sunday afternoon.

(written 28 january 2018)

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An Artist

Life is all about PAIN !!

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Pale fingers

filled with nicotine

On the white paper moved well..

Red eyes

In the imaginary world

glanced and gazed !

I wonder

How far your imaginations reach?

But they never fly over my roof

Where I stand

Each night

With a wish to feel you !!!


Come out of my dreams and imaginations.

Thank you dear Artist. Please contact me, if you ever see this !

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Atop of the World, Mom! (two)

Rantings Of A Third Kind

Posted in the Daily Post: Atop

“Climbing to the top demands strength,
whether it is to the top of Mount Everest
or to the top of your career”
A. P. J. Abdul Kalam

Atop of the World, Mom!

Fully glass plated houses
All the way up to the very top
This is no place for louses
Nothing hidden, nothing secret
But soon enough, some regrets
As the gazes will never stop

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