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Endless and ever Were the pathways which they took On that scented night Guided by their longing stars Following another kiss
There was a time amid a Joyous flow Where rainbow’s hopes each morning would bestow And winds refreshed the air with season’s spice Here lovers’ dreams had splendor’s fields to sew -
In nothingness I was forsaken All that was true was now shaken Yet I’ll persevere Through each bitter tear When wife shouted we’re out of bacon
Whisper your moments A warm breeze urged a flower Sparking memories
With the endlessly energetic Gerard, small and roundish, reciting, singing and playing kazoo and saw, the visually contrasting William Bealby-Wright, tall and thin and slightly lugubrious, on the homemade cacofiddle once described in the Guardian as "
Do not stand at my grave and weep: I am not there; I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow, I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn
You were the stranger with which I fell in love; You were the emptiness that became my own fulfillment; You were the outline that absorbed every colour of the spectrum when you spoke to me; You were the face of
Perhaps the most revealing item is Sparks' plea for satire and ridicule rather than sentimental and emotional art. She claims we have a culture of 'depicted suffering'', for instance regarding familial and racial injustice, which makes many feel
A contemporary poet I know once said she never quite understood why the Internet generation of readers rarely consumed poetry. Poetry, she argued, is everything that's distinctive of our times, for it speaks to you instantly, is read in minutes and
There is a person that I would like to throw off of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. He goes by the name of Justin Ross Harris. With his parenting skills, he never got far Because he left his child to die in a hot car.