Quotes about twins, page 19
Dawn In Summer
When now no more th' alternate twins are fired,
And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze,
Short is the doubtful empire of the Night;
And soon, observant of approaching Day,
The meek-eyed Morn appears, mother of dews,
At first faint-gleaming in the dappled east:
Till far o'er ether spreads the widening glow;
And, from before the lustre of her face,
White breaks the clouds away. With quicken'd step,
Brown Night retires: young Day pours in apace,
And opens all the lawny prospects wide.
The dripping rock, the mountain's misty top
Swell on the sight, and brighten with the dawn.
Blue, through the dusk, the smoking currents shine;
And from the bladed field the fearful hare
Limps, awkward; while along the forest glade
The wild deer trip, and often turning, gaze
At early passenger. Music awakes
The native voice of undissembled joy;
And thick around the woodland hymns arise.
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poem by James Thomson
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This Is Why
The elder of a pair of twins - my lil sis suddenly
called - Please open the gate, I'm waiting outside;
I went out, there she was on a BIG motorbike, she
explained taxman said we tax your business unless
you spend - she and life partner bought BIG motor-
bikes, riding to a Hotel - Formula One
Overwhelmed, never knew she and Pete - Petrus in
local parlance - had to fight taxman to keep enterprise
going; she bought an enormous scooter - 650 CC and
Pete bought a 1 050 CC - they drove off to Musina; the
back of the beyond where large trucks pass on their way
to far-off Zimbabwe and Mozambique
My lil sis drove till they tackled the mountains where she
was too tired to continue; Pete stopped, someone else
drove the rest of the way; she picked up by car; they
arrived safely - she has fun with her paintings, pool
and most important, taking care of Mom and Dad -
her mind is occupied; though
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Mad Thoughts
You think I drink too much?
Never mind me, dreamed too much
They all drowned in the sea too much.
You think you love me more?
Wait till you know me more
And find that I love you but I'm not God.
You think the truth is hard?
Spew more lies, then try detangling the web hard
You'll find the truth is the most freeing lad.
You have Expectations?
His mom had to give birth to identical twins
Meet his twin, Disappointment
He's sure to make his appointment.
You trust no one?
Oh darn cynic!
No trust, no love
No trust, no unity, no Babel.
You love someone?
Wear a blind fold
'Cos from the factory of Eden
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poem by Jenim Dibie
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Reality For Equality
This morning was same as any other in the past,
However this day our ladies felt need for a task.
The morning sun had just began to gleam
In the very fertile land of girlhood dreams.
Out they step together like twins of a gazelle,
Like rose of sharons around a stone-walled well.
A fundamental right they hope everyone enjoys,
The one that had been for only men and boys.
The ladies with dignity remove their top,
Letting their breasts out and about to flop.
Gorgeous nymphs reveal their soft projections
Among grandmother gourds of human confection.
With less care than bones blowing bubbles,
They dismiss any concern for puritan troubles.
Their lactiferous glands looking very real,
Sweetness alive there to see and fun to feel.
Some full and some small but all full of bounce,
Beauty invisible now pleasure by the ounce.
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poem by Albert Price
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His Boat
This boat you see, friends, will tell you
that she was the fastest of craft,
not to be challenged for speed
by any vessel afloat, whether
driven by sail or the labour of oars.
The threatening Adriatic coast won’t deny it,
nor the isles of the Cyclades,
nor noble Rhodes, nor fearful Bosphorus,
nor the grim bay of the Black Sea
where, before becoming a boat, she was
leafy wood: for on the heights of Cytorus
she often hissed to the whispering leaves.
The boat says these things were well known to you,
and are, Amastris and box-wood clad Cytorus:
she says from the very beginning she stood
on your slope, that she dipped her oars
in your water, and carried her owner from there
over so many headstrong breakers,
whether the wind cried from starboard
or larboard, or whether Jupiter struck at the sheets
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poem by Gaius Valerius Catullus
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The Easier It Looks
The easier it looks,
For one to do something done.
And to keep those from the outside,
Looking in...
With that perception undefended.
The harder it gets,
For one to do this...
Without getting sleep or rest.
And yet,
Making appearances everywhere...
As if,
There is nothing but time wasted.
To do what one pleases without care,
With a team unseen sweating in despair.
And supervised nonstop,
To produce with perfection their very best.
'It is not humanly possible,
To do what he is known to do...
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Self Security Is What
That doubt is cut…
And a pond is just that…
Because of the Lotus…
Self security is what…
A heart beat which is…
Complete for love is there…
And after the rain…
The dew glistens under the sun-light…
The night is full of stars…
And without…there is no night…
Darkness, a deep hole within ones…
SOUL…
Lessening the smile upon a face…
Self security is what…
A lover returning real love…
For it is shared…
Security should not be false…
Do all is lost…
Love, Self-respect, and growth…
If when you look at self…
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poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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Ars Poetica
Some from within, some from without,
without a doubt set to,
as soul-song spins tale which begins
to flow, grow, glow. Thereto
through weaving in and weeding out
touch base with Nature, cue
time, place, as twins defeat and wins
ignored are through and through.
No need to shout, run roundabout,
use artificial glue,
scribe’s violin tunes, underpins,
technique as heart rings true.
Sensations scout, don’t beat about
the bush, tout false virtue,
The poet’s string must second skin
become, ne’er dumb, askew.
Words work their way by night and day
from phases past, to light
through threads at play that more threads lay,
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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An Intruder 4
I am not superstitious. In the least.
But I found his suggestion to reach inside the nest-
However shambley-grab the eggs and sow them in the vacant lot next door
Over the rail, you know, among the standing tares and purple thistles
(Opening Nature's ring...slipping in the non-conducting link,
So to speak) wierd.
Barbaric. Unlucky. Un-nerving. Contra naturam. All that.
Also a bit crude.
And certain to have the same unwholesome effect
As opening an umbrella in the house, say, or
Failing to say 'gesundheit' when somebody sneezes,
Allowing a black cat to race across your path,
Separating twins and other indiscretions
Popularly (and, so, indisputably) held
To conduit disaster.
This, I recalled, was the new millenium. There
Was only one thing to do-get a second opinion.
'From many, one.' The more the merrier.
So I called my other friend Grey Wolf-
Part Shoshone-who better to ask?
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poem by Morgan Michaels
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Dream Brother
brother, your darkness
closes over me like an eyelid
and I am invited into
the hole your absence
tears into our mother's heart
brother, brought to me in a dream
you are the boy & the truth
that never was
and I am enticed by the
secrets hidden behind your lips
dream brother, your mouth,
wrought onto mine, spills
the secrets of your nonexistence
your life unlived;
how before my time
our mother wept at your bedside
clutching the sheets
where your body left no indention
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poem by Ryan Blood
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