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Completing All The Touches

Her pupil shone –
Black stole a peek

Her smile wore sleek
Beneath a knowingness
That I would seek
A slipping down of garments,
Jealous of their role
To hide the jewels that complement,
Completing all the touches.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Holocaust Files & Other Theme Poems

Theme: Love Poems (various forms of love,10 poems only)
*any theme category may be extended upon reader interest and requests
A Family Blessing
Changing Scene
For Our Loved Ones
Look Across Time
Memory Of A Lover
My Love
Single Red Ribbon
Snowpowder
Song Of My Love
True Love

The Holocaust Files: (32 poems) are a work in process and this reference will be removed upon completion. This is a collection of holocaust related poems to give voice to the 12 million killed, tortured and enslaved by the SS during World War II. The Poles, Romani and Slavic victims who are sometimes overlooked in brief reviews or marginalized, will hopefully have a poem as their voice by the completion of this project. The poems will ease into and out of the full extent of this horror, to contrast kaleidoscopic images of the holocaust in tribute to the slaughtered, and may provide a differing overview of Nazi Ideology to address succinct examples of how and why in historical perspective. (Historical optional background notes, have been added below some poems to assist in this purpose.)
The cruelty of topic material in some of the main poems may shock or offend innocent readers. Looking up pictorial images of these events is not advised for children.
The poems should be read in the order listed below: -
A Vibrant Life 18.5.2010
Appeasement For Adolf Hitler 15&16.10.2010
Indomitable Will To Survive 12.7.2010
Holocaust Latvia Begins 30.5.2012
Nazi Death Squads Enter Eastern Europe 29.5.2012
SS Single Shot Executioners 28.5.2012
Legal Genocide Committed On Industrial Scale 16.10.2010
Stone Cross Prologue 85 87
Stone Cross 85 87
Hitler's Holocaust Product Of A Demonic Mind 1987
When Satanic Power Ruled A Third Reich 1987
Blind Neo-Nazi Nationalism Hitler's New World Order 1987
How Evil Regenerates Perpetuates 1987
Nazi Evolution Vile Carbon Monoxide Gas To Zyklon-B 1987
Indictment Against Entire Nations 1987
An Image Of The Beast Rules
Fallen Nation Transformation 1987
Cartoon Caricature Of The Master Race 17.5.2010
The SS Who Will You Kill 17.5.2010
Classic Dance Steps 17.2.1989
Peaked Cap; Skull-And-Crossbones Badge 17&18.3.2010
A Moral Civilized World 17.3.2010
The Death Of Adolf Hitler's Personal Physican 17.5.2010
Dagmar Topf A Defence Of Family Ovens 17&18.3.2010
Not To Be Written 7.5.2010
Struck Down With A Thunderbolt 20.4.2010
Love Has Rewards Worth Attaining 19.5.2010
SS Demons 15.12.2010
How Did You Kill Me?
They Did It All Before You 18.5.2010
'Angel Of Death' A Demonic Nazi Doctor 9.3.2011
Proclaiming Retrofit New World Order 9&10.3.2011

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Witch

Eyes, rivulets of red that run beneath a canopy
Of green-tinged lashes –
Tear blood playing on the grey-white skin,
Stretched across the twin peaks of cheekbone.

That slender pillar of a neck –
Magnet of eroticism, blinds to
Veins gorging on the flesh,
Dancing under pulse of blood –
Or whatever pumps inside.

Coal-black lips word intentions –
Castigations – variations of the horror
She was born to be.

O the hair! – a flame-orange avalanche
Thundering down to Hell
Where seething mounds of torn bodies lost their souls
To viler wants and fouler holes of
Scatological minds.

And the plunge of lavish breast –
E’er the siren’s weapon! –
Baits the mortal man –
Were he to chance his hand across
The certainty of doom.

But still we go, our weakness on display –
Hers will not a challenge be to see to our decay.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Old Gold Diggin' Geezer

Peek a boo doo peek a boo doo,
Peek a boo doo boo!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
Peek a boo doo peek a boo doo,
Peek a boo doo boo!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.

You just wanna ride in my car.
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
And take you to places to feed your greedness.
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
Peek a boo doo peek a boo doo,
Peek a boo doo boo!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.

You just wanna have an easy life.
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
And you think I'm the one gon' give it!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
Peek a boo doo peek a boo doo,
Peek a boo doo boo!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.

You ain't got a mortgage or a lease on me.
None that we've agreed upon.
And none that you can see.
You ain't got a ring or a title to keep me leashed up tight.
And what you think I've got,
You're not gonna get that close to take a bite!
With or without your teeth behind your 'grill'...
You old gold diggin' geezer!

Peek a boo doo peek a boo doo,
Peek a boo doo boo!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
Peek a boo doo peek a boo doo,
Peek a boo doo boo!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.

You just wanna ride in my car.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fantasy IV

Pounce of nipple
Snatches,
Catches me off guard

Flounce and ripple
Thro' the breasts
Arrests

Landing hard,
I'm flung upon my back
To analyse the ceiling -
No appealing under stress

Now under dress -
Panties gone
And she upon
My countenance -
I rouse to bait
Her feminine way

Lead astray by
Aromatic warming
Of her womanhood,
I tune her body's
Resonance
Thro' eloquence of tongue -

Her shrieking
Highly strung

We up the play

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2012

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Search Party

You touched my tongue
With yours - blending buds,
Kindling minds, racing worlds,
Unifying two lovers - one body.

Tongues wrestled violently,
Fluidly, in fluid -
Juice flowed, fluidity rousing -
Endorphin storms erupted;
Hearts raged, blood gorged
Cock, clit, tit.

Search-party hands
- desperate -
Found their feelings,
Feeling up, squeezing, sliding,
Rubbing, working, fingers fiddling.

Lungs breathed - sighing, rushing,
Panting, huffing, heaving
- ciliated turmoil.
Hearts worked harder,
Forcing blood torrents;
Whirlpool minds raced,
Blinded, careless, caring, daring.

Clothes faded, cast out - jetsam.
Skin flesh moulded, melded -
Oh to split! for
Inner flesh wanted in.

Pulses pounded,
Rounded mounds flirted nipples
At the lips;
Phallus begging, forcing, pushing,
Pushed;
Ripples crossing skin dunes
Under shudders:
The Quake of Coming - coming -
Came.

We came.
We found.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Troubadour. Canto 2

THE first, the very first; oh! none
Can feel again as they have done;
In love, in war, in pride, in all
The planets of life's coronal,
However beautiful or bright,--
What can be like their first sweet light?

When will the youth feel as he felt,
When first at beauty's feet he knelt?

As if her least smile could confer
A kingdom on its worshipper;
Or ever care, or ever fear
Had cross'd love's morning hemisphere.
And the young bard, the first time praise
Sheds its spring sunlight o'er his lays,
Though loftier laurel, higher name,
May crown the minstrel's noontide fame,
They will not bring the deep content
Of his lure's first encouragement.
And where the glory that will yield
The flush and glow of his first field
To the young chief? Will RAYMOND ever
Feel as he now is feeling?--Never.

The sun wept down or ere they gain'd
The glen where the chief band remain'd.

It was a lone and secret shade,
As nature form'd an ambuscade
For the bird's nest and the deer's lair,
Though now less quiet guests were there.
On one side like a fortress stood
A mingled pine and chesnut wood;
Autumn was falling, but the pine
Seem'd as it mock'd all change; no sign
Of season on its leaf was seen,
The same dark gloom of changeless green.
But like the gorgeous Persian bands
'Mid the stern race of northern lands,
The chesnut boughs were bright with all
That gilds and mocks the autumn's fall.

Like stragglers from an army's rear
Gradual they grew, near and less near,
Till ample space was left to raise,
Amid the trees, the watch-fire's blaze;
And there, wrapt in their cloaks around,
The soldiers scatter'd o'er the ground.

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poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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Jealous

(jo allen)
Jealous, jealous, jealous, jealous,
Jealous, jealous,
When I see you with that guy
And he catches your pretty eye
You know it makes we want to die
And Im left out to dry
You know it makes me want to feel
Jealous, jealous,
Jealous, jealous,
Dont you know that it makes me green
When I think about you and him
Im just an end to all your means
And Im torn apart at the seams
You know it makes me want to feel
Jealous, jealous,
Jealous, jealous,
When I see you with that guy
And he catches your pretty eye
You know it makes we want to die
Oh, and Im left out to dry
You know it makes me want to feel
You know it makes me want to feel jealous, jealous,
Jealous, jealous,
Jealous, jealous,
Jealous, jealous,
Jealous, jealous,
Jealous, jealous,
Jealous, jealous,
Jealous, jealous,

song performed by Robert Palmer
Added by Lucian Velea
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Thurso’s Landing

I
The coast-road was being straightened and repaired again,
A group of men labored at the steep curve
Where it falls from the north to Mill Creek. They scattered and hid
Behind cut banks, except one blond young man
Who stooped over the rock and strolled away smiling
As if he shared a secret joke with the dynamite;
It waited until he had passed back of a boulder,
Then split its rock cage; a yellowish torrent
Of fragments rose up the air and the echoes bumped
From mountain to mountain. The men returned slowly
And took up their dropped tools, while a banner of dust
Waved over the gorge on the northwest wind, very high
Above the heads of the forest.
Some distance west of the road,
On the promontory above the triangle
Of glittering ocean that fills the gorge-mouth,
A woman and a lame man from the farm below
Had been watching, and turned to go down the hill. The young
woman looked back,
Widening her violet eyes under the shade of her hand. 'I think
they'll blast again in a minute.'
And the man: 'I wish they'd let the poor old road be. I don't
like improvements.' 'Why not?' 'They bring in the world;
We're well without it.' His lameness gave him some look of age
but he was young too; tall and thin-faced,
With a high wavering nose. 'Isn't he amusing,' she said, 'that
boy Rick Armstrong, the dynamite man,
How slowly he walks away after he lights the fuse. He loves to
show off. Reave likes him, too,'
She added; and they clambered down the path in the rock-face,
little dark specks
Between the great headland rock and the bright blue sea.

II
The road-workers had made their camp
North of this headland, where the sea-cliff was broken down and
sloped to a cove. The violet-eyed woman's husband,
Reave Thurso, rode down the slope to the camp in the gorgeous
autumn sundown, his hired man Johnny Luna
Riding behind him. The road-men had just quit work and four
or five were bathing in the purple surf-edge,
The others talked by the tents; blue smoke fragrant with food
and oak-wood drifted from the cabin stove-pipe
And slowly went fainting up the vast hill.
Thurso drew rein by
a group of men at a tent door
And frowned at them without speaking, square-shouldered and
heavy-jawed, too heavy with strength for so young a man,
He chose one of the men with his eyes. 'You're Danny Woodruff,

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poem by Robinson Jeffers
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I Stole Your Love

I remember the day that we met
I needed someone, you needed someone too, yeah
Spend time takin all you could get
Givin yourself was one thing you never could do
You played with my heart, played with my head
I got to laugh when I think of the things you said
cause I stole your love, stole your love
Aint never gonna let you go
I, oh yeah, stole your love, I stole your love
Stole your love, I stole your love
You never stop runnin around
You pick me up, then you could still put me down
You were the girl that nobody could own
Stay for a while, then you would leave me alone
Im somethin different, aint like the rest
How does it feel to find out youre failin your test
cause I stole your love, stole your love
Aint never gonna let you go
I, i, stole your love, I stole your love
Stole your love, I stole your love
Guitar
Listen, I stole your love, stole your love
Aint never gonna let you go
I, i, stole your love, I stole your love
Stole your love, I stole your love
I stole your love, stole your love
I stole your love, stole your love
I stole your love, oh
I, oh yeah, stole your love, I stole your love
Stole your love, I stole your love
I, oh yeah, stole your love, oh yeah, stole your love, alright

song performed by Kiss
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Loves of the Angels

'Twas when the world was in its prime,
When the fresh stars had just begun
Their race of glory and young Time
Told his first birth-days by the sun;
When in the light of Nature's dawn
Rejoicing, men and angels met
On the high hill and sunny lawn,-
Ere sorrow came or Sin had drawn
'Twixt man and heaven her curtain yet!
When earth lay nearer to the skies
Than in these days of crime and woe,
And mortals saw without surprise
In the mid-air angelic eyes
Gazing upon this world below.

Alas! that Passion should profane
Even then the morning of the earth!
That, sadder still, the fatal stain
Should fall on hearts of heavenly birth-
And that from Woman's love should fall
So dark a stain, most sad of all!

One evening, in that primal hour,
On a hill's side where hung the ray
Of sunset brightening rill and bower,
Three noble youths conversing lay;
And, as they lookt from time to time
To the far sky where Daylight furled
His radiant wing, their brows sublime
Bespoke them of that distant world-
Spirits who once in brotherhood
Of faith and bliss near ALLA stood,
And o'er whose cheeks full oft had blown
The wind that breathes from ALLA'S throne,
Creatures of light such as still play,
Like motes in sunshine, round the Lord,
And thro' their infinite array
Transmit each moment, night and day,
The echo of His luminous word!

Of Heaven they spoke and, still more oft,
Of the bright eyes that charmed them thence;
Till yielding gradual to the soft
And balmy evening's influence-
The silent breathing of the flowers-
The melting light that beamed above,
As on their first, fond, erring hours,-
Each told the story of his love,
The history of that hour unblest,
When like a bird from its high nest

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poem by Thomas Moore
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Vision of Columbus – Book 3

Now, twice twelve years, the children of the skies
Beheld in peace their growing empire rise;
O'er happy realms, display'd their generous care,
Diffused their arts and soothd the rage of war;
Bade yon tall temple grace the favourite isle.
The gardens bloom, the cultured valleys smile,
The aspiring hills their spacious mines unfold.
Fair structures blaze, and altars burn, in gold,
Those broad foundations bend their arches high,
And heave imperial Cusco to the sky;
From that fair stream that mark'd their northern sway,
Where Apurimac leads his lucid way,
To yon far glimmering lake, the southern bound,
The growing tribes their peaceful dwellings found;
While wealth and grandeur bless'd the extended reign,
From the bold Andes to the western main.
When, fierce from eastern wilds, the savage bands
Lead war and slaughter o'er the happy lands;
Thro' fertile fields the paths of culture trace,
And vow destruction to the Incan race.
While various fortune strow'd the embattled plain,
And baffled thousands still the strife maintain,
The unconquer'd Inca wakes the lingering war,
Drives back their host and speeds their flight afar;
Till, fired with rage, they range the wonted wood,
And feast their souls on future scenes of blood.
Where yon blue summits hang their cliffs on high;
Frown o'er the plains and lengthen round the sky;
Where vales exalted thro' the breaches run;
And drink the nearer splendors of the sun,
From south to north, the tribes innumerous wind,
By hills of ice and mountain streams confined;
Rouse neighbouring hosts, and meditate the blow,
To blend their force and whelm the world below.
Capac, with caution, views the dark design,
From countless wilds what hostile myriads join;
And greatly strives to bid the discord cease,
By profferd compacts of perpetual peace.
His eldest hope, young Rocha, at his call,
Leaves the deep confines of the temple wall;
In whose fair form, in lucid garments drest,
Began the sacred function of the priest.
In early youth, ere yet the genial sun
Had twice six changes o'er his childhood run,
The blooming prince, beneath his parents' hand,
Learn'd all the laws that sway'd the sacred land;
With rites mysterious served the Power divine,
Prepared the altar and adorn'd the shrine,
Responsive hail'd, with still returning praise,
Each circling season that the God displays,

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poem by Joel Barlow
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Slipping Away

i keep slipping away
i keep slipping away
i keep slipping
i keep slipping
i keep slipping away
myself keeps slipping away
myself keeps slipping away
myself keeps slipping away
myself keeps slipping away
myself keeps slipping away
myself keeps slipping away
myself keeps slipping away
myself keeps slipping away
myself keeps slipping away
myself keeps slipping away
myself keeps slipping away
myself keeps slipping away
myself keeps slipping away
tried to save myself
tried to save myself
tried to save myself
tried to save myself
tried to save myself
tried to save myself
tried to save myself
tried to save myself
tried to save myself
tried to save myself
tried to save myself
tried to save myself
tried to save myself
tried to save myself
tried to save myself
tried to save
tried to save myself
tried to save myself
tried to save myself
tried to save myself
tried to save
tried to save
tried to save myself
tried to save myself
tried to save myself
tried to save myself
tried to save
save
save
keep slipping
save
keep slipping

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song performed by Nine Inch Nails
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Jealous

Yeah.. youknowhatimsayin? eh-heh
Its real funny youknowhatimean?
I like cant believe this yknow
Jealousy like tried to move on me youknowhatimsayin?
So I said nah I aint gonna, yknow
Make no energetic hyped up yellin, type joint, knowhatimean?
Im just gon cool back, youknowhatimsayin?
Word up to this slow gangster beat type thing
Check it out yo..
Jealousy - I wanna kill him and shoot him
Hes a sucker - Id like to execute him
Recruit him - put him in my school and school him
I said somethin simple, and I knew that Id fool him
Hes only mediocre, jealousy cant get with me
Hang up your clothes, cause jealousy aint spent to me
Hes just a monkey, ridin my back
In fact I kidnap, ramsack, hijack and backslap the fool..
.. see my name is cool j
I play for keeps, the microphones my tool
Ive been holdin back long enough I had to bring it
Jealousy is in the house yall, fellas sing it
Jealous.. jealous..
Theres no need to be
Jealous.. jealous..
Bih mellow, youknowhatimsayin?
Jealous.. jealous..
Gangster groove, word up knowhatimsayin?
Jealous.. jealous..
Check it out yall
Im not lackadaisical or lazy on the microphone
I bring the bacon home so jealousy go home
Or play the wall and pout about the way the prince is rollin
So when they give it up, stand back and start foldin
All your jealous show clothes, I think you need to grab a
Half-pint of cisco and hang out with backstabber
Cause ima break down all walls jealousy built
And then walk tall, like Im standin on stilts yeah
Jealousy the jam is mean youll have to rewind it
If you didnt know about him, you must have been blinded
Ask him if Im right, hell tell you he sure is
Excuse me for a moment, fellas sing a smooth chorus
Jealous.. jealous..
Knowhatimsayin? smooth, word up
Jealous.. jealous..
Huh, crazy gangster beat, youknowhatimsayin?
Its like a gangster lean
Jealous.. jealous..
Yeah yeah youknowhatimsayin?
Its cool j in the house, youknowhatimsayin?
Jealous.. jealous..

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song performed by LL Cool J
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Idylls of the King: The Last Tournament (excerpt)

Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood
Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table Round,
At Camelot, high above the yellowing woods,
Danced like a wither'd leaf before the hall.
And toward him from the hall, with harp in hand,
And from the crown thereof a carcanet
Of ruby swaying to and fro, the prize
Of Tristram in the jousts of yesterday,
Came Tristram, saying, "Why skip ye so, Sir Fool?"

For Arthur and Sir Lancelot riding once
Far down beneath a winding wall of rock
Heard a child wail. A stump of oak half-dead.
From roots like some black coil of carven snakes,
Clutch'd at the crag, and started thro' mid air
Bearing an eagle's nest: and thro' the tree
Rush'd ever a rainy wind, and thro' the wind
Pierced ever a child's cry: and crag and tree
Scaling, Sir Lancelot from the perilous nest,
This ruby necklace thrice around her neck,
And all unscarr'd from beak or talon, brought
A maiden babe; which Arthur pitying took,
Then gave it to his Queen to rear: the Queen
But coldly acquiescing, in her white arms
Received, and after loved it tenderly,
And named it Nestling; so forgot herself
A moment, and her cares; till that young life
Being smitten in mid heaven with mortal cold
Past from her; and in time the carcanet
Vext her with plaintive memories of the child:
So she, delivering it to Arthur, said,
"Take thou the jewels of this dead innocence,
And make them, an thou wilt, a tourney-prize."

To whom the King, "Peace to thine eagle-borne
Dead nestling, and this honour after death,
Following thy will! but, O my Queen, I muse
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or zone
Those diamonds that I rescued from the tarn,
And Lancelot won, methought, for thee to wear."

"Would rather you had let them fall," she cried,
"Plunge and be lost--ill-fated as they were,
A bitterness to me!--ye look amazed,
Not knowing they were lost as soon as given--
Slid from my hands, when I was leaning out
Above the river--that unhappy child
Past in her barge: but rosier luck will go
With these rich jewels, seeing that they came
Not from the skeleton of a brother-slayer,

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poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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The Last Tournament

Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood
Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table Round,
At Camelot, high above the yellowing woods,
Danced like a withered leaf before the hall.
And toward him from the hall, with harp in hand,
And from the crown thereof a carcanet
Of ruby swaying to and fro, the prize
Of Tristram in the jousts of yesterday,
Came Tristram, saying, `Why skip ye so, Sir Fool?'

For Arthur and Sir Lancelot riding once
Far down beneath a winding wall of rock
Heard a child wail. A stump of oak half-dead,
From roots like some black coil of carven snakes,
Clutched at the crag, and started through mid air
Bearing an eagle's nest: and through the tree
Rushed ever a rainy wind, and through the wind
Pierced ever a child's cry: and crag and tree
Scaling, Sir Lancelot from the perilous nest,
This ruby necklace thrice around her neck,
And all unscarred from beak or talon, brought
A maiden babe; which Arthur pitying took,
Then gave it to his Queen to rear: the Queen
But coldly acquiescing, in her white arms
Received, and after loved it tenderly,
And named it Nestling; so forgot herself
A moment, and her cares; till that young life
Being smitten in mid heaven with mortal cold
Past from her; and in time the carcanet
Vext her with plaintive memories of the child:
So she, delivering it to Arthur, said,
`Take thou the jewels of this dead innocence,
And make them, an thou wilt, a tourney-prize.'

To whom the King, `Peace to thine eagle-borne
Dead nestling, and this honour after death,
Following thy will! but, O my Queen, I muse
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or zone
Those diamonds that I rescued from the tarn,
And Lancelot won, methought, for thee to wear.'

`Would rather you had let them fall,' she cried,
`Plunge and be lost-ill-fated as they were,
A bitterness to me!-ye look amazed,
Not knowing they were lost as soon as given-
Slid from my hands, when I was leaning out
Above the river-that unhappy child
Past in her barge: but rosier luck will go
With these rich jewels, seeing that they came
Not from the skeleton of a brother-slayer,

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poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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The Undying One- Canto III

'THERE is a sound the autumn wind doth make
Howling and moaning, listlessly and low:
Methinks that to a heart that ought to break
All the earth's voices seem to murmur so.
The visions that crost
Our path in light--
The things that we lost
In the dim dark night--
The faces for which we vainly yearn--
The voices whose tones will not return--
That low sad wailing breeze doth bring
Borne on its swift and rushing wing.
Have ye sat alone when that wind was loud,
And the moon shone dim from the wintry cloud?
When the fire was quench'd on your lonely hearth,
And the voices were still which spoke of mirth?

If such an evening, tho' but one,
It hath been yours to spend alone--
Never,--though years may roll along
Cheer'd by the merry dance and song;
Though you mark'd not that bleak wind's sound before,
When louder perchance it used to roar--
Never shall sound of that wintry gale
Be aught to you but a voice of wail!
So o'er the careless heart and eye
The storms of the world go sweeping by;
But oh! when once we have learn'd to weep,
Well doth sorrow his stern watch keep.
Let one of our airy joys decay--
Let one of our blossoms fade away--
And all the griefs that others share
Seem ours, as well as theirs, to bear:
And the sound of wail, like that rushing wind
Shall bring all our own deep woe to mind!

'I went through the world, but I paused not now
At the gladsome heart and the joyous brow:
I went through the world, and I stay'd to mark
Where the heart was sore, and the spirit dark:
And the grief of others, though sad to see,
Was fraught with a demon's joy to me!

'I saw the inconstant lover come to take
Farewell of her he loved in better days,
And, coldly careless, watch the heart-strings break--
Which beat so fondly at his words of praise.
She was a faded, painted, guilt-bow'd thing,
Seeking to mock the hues of early spring,
When misery and years had done their worst

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poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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The Columbiad: Book III

The Argument

Actions of the Inca Capac. A general invasion of his dominions threatened by the mountain savages. Rocha, the Inca's son, sent with a few companions to offer terms of peace. His embassy. His adventure with the worshippers of the volcano. With those of the storm, on the Andes. Falls in with the savage armies. Character and speech of Zamor, their chief. Capture of Rocha and his companions. Sacrifice of the latter. Death song of Azonto. War dance. March of the savage armies down the mountains to Peru. Incan army meets them. Battle joins. Peruvians terrified by an eclipse of the sun, and routed. They fly to Cusco. Grief of Oella, supposing the darkness to be occasioned by the death of Rocha. Sun appears. Peruvians from the city wall discover Roch an altar in the savage camp. They march in haste out of the city and engage the savages. Exploits of Capac. Death of Zamor. Recovery of Rocha, and submission of the enemy.

Now twenty years these children of the skies
Beheld their gradual growing empire rise.
They ruled with rigid but with generous care,
Diffused their arts and sooth'd the rage of war,
Bade yon tall temple grace their favorite isle,
The mines unfold, the cultured valleys smile,
Those broad foundations bend their arches high,
And rear imperial Cusco to the sky;
Wealth, wisdom, force consolidate the reign
From the rude Andes to the western main.

But frequent inroads from the savage bands
Lead fire and slaughter o'er the labor'd lands;
They sack the temples, the gay fields deface,
And vow destruction to the Incan race.
The king, undaunted in defensive war,
Repels their hordes, and speeds their flight afar;
Stung with defeat, they range a wider wood,
And rouse fresh tribes for future fields of blood.

Where yon blue ridges hang their cliffs on high,
And suns infulminate the stormful sky,
The nations, temper'd to the turbid air,
Breathe deadly strife, and sigh for battle's blare;
Tis here they meditate, with one vast blow,
To crush the race that rules the plains below.
Capac with caution views the dark design,
Learns from all points what hostile myriads join.
And seeks in time by proffer'd leagues to gain
A bloodless victory, and enlarge his reign.

His eldest hope, young Rocha, at his call,
Resigns his charge within the temple wall;
In whom began, with reverend forms of awe,
The functions grave of priesthood and of law,

In early youth, ere yet the ripening sun
Had three short lustres o'er his childhood run,
The prince had learnt, beneath his father's hand,
The well-framed code that sway'd the sacred land;
With rites mysterious served the Power divine,
Prepared the altar and adorn'd the shrine,
Responsive hail'd, with still returning praise,
Each circling season that the God displays,

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poem by Joel Barlow
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Jealous Lover

To all of those who had their doubts
Now those doubts... I forgive them
To everyone whos led one life
Then love life... its humble rhythm
To all of those who harbour dreams
All you get... is what youre given
Meanwhile the maximum... maximum goes down
Right from the start
I knew youd break my heart
Jealous lover... jealous lover
Rope tied and bound
I been lost and found
Jealous lover... jealous lover
Jealous of my loving
Jealous of my leaving...jealous
Jealous of my living
Jealous of my breathing
Jealous lover... jealous lover
If all they say and do were true
Just like you... Id be with em
But lies survive... and cut right through
While the truth... remains forbidden
For every single point of view
Then theres two... that must be hidden
Meantime the maximum... maximum goes down
Right from the start
I knew youd break my heart
Jealous lover... jealous lover
Rope tied and bound
I been lost and found
Jealous lover... jealous lover
Jealous of my loving
Jealous of my leaving...jealous
Jealous of my living
Jealous of my breathing
Jealous lover... theres no other
Meantime - the maximum... maximum
Nothing more and nothing less
Grip tight - the maximum... the maximum
You say no... I say yes
Dont be... dont be... dont be
Jealous lover - jealous lover

song performed by Abc
Added by Lucian Velea
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IX. Juris Doctor Johannes-Baptista Bottinius, Fisci et Rev. Cam. Apostol. Advocatus

Had I God's leave, how I would alter things!
If I might read instead of print my speech,—
Ay, and enliven speech with many a flower
Refuses obstinate to blow in print,
As wildings planted in a prim parterre,—
This scurvy room were turned an immense hall;
Opposite, fifty judges in a row;
This side and that of me, for audience—Rome:
And, where yon window is, the Pope should hide—
Watch, curtained, but peep visibly enough.
A buzz of expectation! Through the crowd,
Jingling his chain and stumping with his staff,
Up comes an usher, louts him low, "The Court
"Requires the allocution of the Fisc!"
I rise, I bend, I look about me, pause
O'er the hushed multitude: I count—One, two—

Have ye seen, Judges, have ye, lights of law,—
When it may hap some painter, much in vogue
Throughout our city nutritive of arts,
Ye summon to a task shall test his worth,
And manufacture, as he knows and can,
A work may decorate a palace-wall,
Afford my lords their Holy Family,—
Hath it escaped the acumen of the Court
How such a painter sets himself to paint?
Suppose that Joseph, Mary and her Babe
A-journeying to Egypt, prove the piece:
Why, first he sedulously practiseth,
This painter,—girding loin and lighting lamp,—
On what may nourish eye, make facile hand;
Getteth him studies (styled by draughtsmen so)
From some assistant corpse of Jew or Turk
Or, haply, Molinist, he cuts and carves,—
This Luca or this Carlo or the like.
To him the bones their inmost secret yield,
Each notch and nodule signify their use:
On him the muscles turn, in triple tier,
And pleasantly entreat the entrusted man
"Familiarize thee with our play that lifts
"Thus, and thus lowers again, leg, arm and foot!"
—Ensuring due correctness in the nude.
Which done, is all done? Not a whit, ye know!
He,—to art's surface rising from her depth,—
If some flax-polled soft-bearded sire be found,
May simulate a Joseph, (happy chance!)—
Limneth exact each wrinkle of the brow,
Loseth no involution, cheek or chap,
Till lo, in black and white, the senior lives!
Is it a young and comely peasant-nurse

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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