Monday, May 4, 2009

The Lesson

The Lesson by Maya Angelou
I keep on dying again.
Veins collapse, opening like the
Small fists of sleeping
Children.
Memory of old tombs,
Rotting flesh and worms do
Not convince me against
The challenge. The years
And cold defeat live deep in
Lines along my face.
They dull my eyes, yet
I keep on dying,
Because I love to live.
Bryan Hernandez
 

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Songs of Innocence

PIPING down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of peasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he, laughing, said to me:
 
'Pipe a song about a lamb!'
So I piped with merry cheer.
'Piper, pipe that song again;'
So I piped: he wept to hear.
 
'Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;
Sing thy songs of happy cheer!'
So I sang the same again,
While he wept with joy to hear.
 
'Piper, sit thee down and write
In a book, that all may read.'
So he vanished from my sight;
And I plucked a hollow reed,
 
And I made a rural pen,
And I stain'd the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.
 
By: William Blake
 
Submited by: Irene Tracey

Thursday, April 30, 2009

When We Two Parted

When We Two Parted

by George Gordon Byron


When we two parted     In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted     To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold,     Colder thy kiss; Truly that hour foretold     Sorrow to this.  The dew of the morning     Sunk chill on my brow--  It felt like the warning    Of what I feel now. Thy vows are all broken,     And light is thy fame; I hear thy name spoken,     And share in its shame.  They name thee before me,     A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes o'er me--    Why wert thou so dear? They know not I knew thee,     Who knew thee too well-- Long, long shall I rue thee,     Too deeply to tell.  In secret we met--    In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget,     Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee     After long years, How should I greet thee?--    With silence and tears.
 
Submitted by: Jessica Clegg

As soon as fred gets out of bed

Samantha Wills
As Soon as Fred Gets Out of Bed by Jack Prelutsky
As soon as Fred gets out of bed,
his underwear goes on his head.
His mother laughs, "Don't put it there,
a head's no place for underwear!"
But near his ears, above his brains,
is where Fred's underwear remains.

At night when Fred goes back to bed,
he deftly plucks it off his head.
His mother switches off the light
and softly croons, "Good night! Good night!"
And then, for reasons no one knows,
Fred's underwear goes on his toes.

One Struggle More, And I Am Free


One Struggle More, And I Am Free

By Lord Byron

One struggle more, and I am free
From pangs that rend my heart in twain;
One last long sigh to love and thee,
Then back to busy life again.
It suits me well to mingle now
With things that never pleased before !
Though every joy is fled below,
What future grief can touch me more?

Then bring me wine, the banquet bring;
Man was not form'd to live alone:
I'll be that light, unmeaning thing
That smiles with all, and weeps with none.
It was not thus in days more dear,
It never would have been, but thou
Hast fled, and left me lonely here;
Thou 'rt nothing --- all are nothing now.

In vain my lyre would lightly breathe !
The smile that sorrow fain would wear
But mocks the woe that lurks beneath,
Like roses o'er a sepulchre.
Though gay companions o'er the bowl
Dispel awhile the sense of ill :
Though pleasure fires the maddening soul,
The heart, --- the heart is lonely still !


On many a lone and lovely night
It sooth'd to gaze upon the sky;
For then I deem'd the heavenly light
Shone sweetly on thy pensive eye:
And oft I thought at Cynthia's noon,
When sailing o'er the Ægean wave,
" Now Thyrza gazes on that moon " ---
Alas, it gleam'd upon her grave !

When stretch'd on fever's sleepless bed,
And sickness shrunk my throbbing veins,
" 'T is comfort still,"   I faintly said,
" That Thyrza cannot know my pains: "
Like freedom to the time-worn slave,
A boon 'tis idle then to give,
Relenting Nature vainly gave
My life, when Thyrza ceased to live !

My Thyrza's pledge in better days,
When love and life alike were new !
How different now thou meet'st  my gaze !
How tinged by time with sorrow's hue !
The heart that gave itself with thee
Is silent --- ah, were mine as still !
Though cold as e'en  the dead can be,
It feels,  it sickens with the chill.

Thou bitter pledge !    thou mournful token !
Though painful,  welcome to my breast !
Still,  still preserve that love unbroken,
Or break the heart to which thou'rt press'd.
Time tempers love, but not removes,
More hallow'd when its hope is fled:
Oh !   what are thousand living loves
To that which cannot quit the dead ?

Submitted By: David Ferullo

Lyin' Larry

Larry's such a liar--
He tells outrageous lies.
He says he's ninety-nine years old
Instead of only five.
He says he lives up on the moon.
He says that he once flew.
He says he's really six feet four
Instead of three feet two.
He says he had a billion dollars
'Stead of just a dime.
He says he rode a dinosaur
Back in some distant time.
He says his mother is the moon
Who taught him magic spells.
He says his father is the wind
That rings the morning bells.
He says he can take stones and rocks
And turn them into gold.
He says he can take burnin' fire
And turn it freezin' cold.
He said he'd send me seven elves
To help me with my chores.
But Larry's such a liar--
He only sent me four.

By Shel Silverstein.

Submitted by: Enoch Lee


Windows Live™ Hotmail®:…more than just e-mail. Check it out.

On Anothers Sorrow

by William Blake

Can I see another's woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another's grief,
And not seek for kind relief?

Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow's share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be with sorrow fill'd?

Can a mother sit and hear
An infant groan an infant fear?
No, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!

And can he who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small,
Hear the small bird's grief & care,
Hear the woes that infants bear,

And not sit beside the nest,
Pouring pity in their breast;
And not sit the cradle near,
Weeping tear on infant's tear;

And not sit both night & day,
Wiping all our tears away?
O, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!

He doth give his joy to all;
He becomes an infant small;
He becomes a man of woe;
He doth feel the sorrow too.

Think not thou canst sigh a sigh
And thy maker is not by;
Think not thou canst weep a tear
And thy maker is not near.

O! he gives to us his joy
That our grief he may destroy;
Till our grief is fled & gone
He doth sit by us and moan. 

 

 

Home by Lisa Emry

Home is the place your heart resides
Home is the place that you decide
Home is the womb that holds the soul
Home is the place where one is whole

Home is the glow you hold in your eye
Home is the emotion that makes you cry
Home is safe and a place of peace
Home is where all strivings cease

Home is protective against the others
Home is full of sisters and brothers
Home is where you find your rest
Home is where you feel your best

Home is a memory that follows your being
Home is a dream for those agreeing
Home is the place where reserves fall
Home is the place you yearn to call

Home is where the family meets
Home is a place of restful retreats
Home is the place you know you'll be heard
Home is the pace where nothing blurs

Home is all these wonderful things
Home is the place you develop wings
Home is the place that you'll find one day
Home is the place where your heart will stay
 
Artem Shakhramanyan (Eng 102-013)

Music by Alexis Rolon

Music is my life
Music is my laughter that makes me cry
Music is the thing that changed my life
Music is my happiness I always feel in side
Music is my every thing
When you are down let music turn you around
What ever you are feeling let music take it over
Turn the music up real loud and jest scream it all out
Let the pain run write through you
Let the tears undue you
Do nothing more but sing your soul out
And tell everyone what you are about! ! !
Music is my life
Music is my laughter that makes me cry
Music is the thing that changed my life
Music is my happiness I always feel in side
Music is my every thing
Tell every one what you are all about
Jest expresses your self and let it out!
Let no one tell you ….
You can not live your dreams
If you want to sing, sing, sing the music
You like while you tell them what you are all about!
Music is my life
Music is my laughter that makes me cry
Music is the thing that changed my life
Music is my happiness I always feel in side
Music is my every thing
Music can be my heart beating for you
Music can be the sound of your voice
Music can be the butterflies in my belly when they talk about you
Music can be the cars beeping in the high way
Music is the thing that's get you off your feet
Music is my life
Music is my laughter that makes me cry
Music is the thing that changed my life
Music is my happiness I always feel in side
Music is my every thing
Music is everywhere around you! ! ! !



Wednesday, April 29, 2009

The Pleasures of Ordinary Life by Judith Viorst

I've had my share of necessary losses,
Of dreams I know no longer can come true.
I'm done now with the whys and the becauses.
It's time to make things good, not just make do.
It's time to stop complaining and pursue
The pleasures of an ordinary life.

I used to rail against my compromises.
I yearned for the wild music, the swift race.
But happiness arrived in new disguises:
Sun lighting a child's hair. A friend's embrace.
Slow dancing in a safe and quiet place.
The pleasures of an ordinary life.

I'll have no trumpets, triumphs, trails of glory.
It seems the woman I've turned out to be
Is not the heroine of some grand story.
But I have learned to find the poetry
In what my hands can touch, my eyes can see.
The pleasures of an ordinary life.

Young fantasies of magic and of mystery
Are over. But they really can't compete
With all we've built together: A long history.
Connections that help render us complete.
Ties that hold and heal us. And the sweet,
Sweet pleasures of an ordinary life.

submitted by Julie Yu Brit Lit

NIGHT By Dong-Myung Kim

Night is
A lake shrouded in blue fog.
I am a fisherman
On a sleep's sailboat,
Fishing dreams.
 
The author is blaming him self because he dreams independence of his country
 
however, there is not such a thing that he can do for.
 
From. LI 206 - 004 student. Jungho Kim

ROCK by Chi-Hwan Yu

ROCK by Chi-Hwan Yu

When I die,
I will become a rock,
never touched
by compassion, joy or anger.
While being torn down by wind and rain,
It will only whip itself inwards
in eterenal, impersonal silence,
and at last forget its own existence;
Floating clouds, distant thunder!
Though it may dream,
it will never sing.
Though broken in pieces,
it will never utter a word.
I will become such a rock.
 
 
I think this one is interesting because it does not say anything directly
 
however the author wishes independence of his country Korea from Japan.
 
From. LI 206 - 004 student Jungho Kim.

Vincent Hayes. Poem: Sand Oasis

 

SAND OASIS

By: Vincent John Hayes

 

You tell me that it's hard sometimes

To make your feet align.

I hesitate to speak

But I think you're just hopelessly inclined

And hell-bent to abide

To the taunting gestures

Of blinded strangers.

These baseless fantasies are making your mind

Ire,

Because you know damn well

That every road is a lonely one

In good time

And that's just osmosis

In its most basic nature

Taking and splitting all of your bliss

And leaves you searching for another

Sand Oasis  

 

Pack your baggage

And sharpen your beak

Yea, I'm gona stagger

Right from this could of defeat

In the roads that are to come

I'll find someone else just like me

See them dead where they fell

And I'll scavenge

On their cathartic meat.

 

Did you forget to pack away

Some light?

Is that why you chase the sun around the Earth?

Hoping that it might

Someday give a home to your cruse.

You know damn well that the sun will return

On its normal course

But that's not what you need

Not right now, no, of course

So says that holy ghost

With a wanderer's blisters on his feet.

Sometimes I wonder if anything of yours

Will ever be requited

When you're so navigational and spasmodic

I know the ideas are disquieting

And I can see the urges are leaking from your

Pours

To be sensational and nomadic

Hoping that it might cure

Your ugly stasis

Yea, she's gona search for her

 Sand Oasis.

 

Pack your baggage

And sharpen your beak

Yea, I'm gona stagger

Right from this could of defeat

In the roads that are to come

I'll find someone else just like me

See them dead where they fell

And I'll scavenge

On their cathartic meat.

 

Broken down and sorry

She's contemplative

And wants to know exactly why

She was never happy

She's failed to find that common purpose

And knows that this is the end of her story

But just the beginning of so many more divorces

Still to come are future remorses

And their courses for settling down

Without a sound

But now, at least, there no more reasons to be sad

Or frowning

She's picked off those scabs

Of arthritis

And has finally found her

Sand Oasis


Tuesday, April 28, 2009

I am Apache

EN-102-006 Ian Brett
 
 
 
I Am Apache



by Harvey A. Mendez
Sunday, July 04, 2004


The poem won third place in 1994
in The National Library of Poetry contest.


I am Apache, rage of first rainstorm,
Child of the Water, spring of the morning.
I rise from dark hidden caves,
challenge and slay the giant beast.

I am Apache, brother to the fox,
kin to eagles, kin to bears.
I run free through deep arroyos,
on desert grasslands flush with deer.

I am Apache, lance of victory,
thunder, my chager, lightning, my shield.
I wear feathers of First Chief
avenging spirits of our dead.

I am Apache, stronghold of ambush,
enemy in mountains, twister in deserts.
My burning arrow asks no quarter
when war paint flares, war drums beat.

I am Apache, blood of battle clouds,
flesh of rawhide, dust of Mother Earth.
I ride the Great Mustang in hidden canyons,
sacred and deep, after Usen burns my wickiup.

Harvey A. Mendez

Touched by An Angel by Maya Angelou

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.

To Professor: whalen

From : pharah dubuisson Lefevre

A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

To professor: whalen
From : pharah dubuisson Lefevre

I carry your heart with me by E. E. Cummings

I carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
I fear
no fate(for you are my fate, my sweet) I want
no world for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart I carry it in my heart


To;professor whalen
From : pharah dubuisson Lefevre

Start Where You Stand by Berton Braley

Start where you stand and never mind the past,
The past won't help you in beginning new,
If you have left it all behind at last
Why, that's enough, you're done with it, you're through;

This is another chapter in the book,
This is another race that you have planned,
Don't give the vanished days a backward look,
Start where you stand.

The world won't care about your old defeats
If you can start anew and win success;
The future is your time, and time is fleet
And there is much of work and strain and stress;

Forget the buried woes and dead despairs,
Here is a brand-new trial right at hand,
The future is for him who does and dares,
Start where you stand.

Old failures will not halt, old triumphs aid,
To-day's the thing, to-morrow soon will be;
Get in the fight and face it unafraid,
And leave the past to ancient history,

What has been, has been; yesterday is dead
And by it you are neither blessed nor banned;
Take courage, man, be brave and drive ahead,
Start where you stand.

 

"Poetry's Value"

       "Poetry's Value"
     
                    by Xi Murong
 
       If you ask me abruptly
       Why write poetry
       Why not do
       Something useful
 
       Then I won't know  
       How to answer you
       I am like a goldsmith hammering day and night
       Just so I can extend pain
       Into a gold ornament as thin as a cicada's wing
 
       I don't know if working so hard
       To transform sorrows into
       Shimmering words and phrases
       Is also
       Beautifully worthwhile
 
                      Maureen Whalen

"Do Not Throw Away"

"Do Not Throw Away"
 
               by Lin Huiyin
 
Do not throw away
That scoop of passion from the past
Even though passion flows softly like water
At the bottom of a cool mountain spring
In a pine grove on a dark night
And sighs an elusive sigh,
You must still preserve that truth.
The moon is still bright;
The lights below the hills are still on;
The sky is still full of stars
Hanging like dreams.
You ask the night for
Those words back---you must still believe
Their echoes
In the valley.
 
Maureen Whalen