Quotes about tether, page 8
Waiting
The sun has slipped his tether
And galloped down the west.
(Oh, it's weary, weary waiting, love.)
The little bird is sleeping
In the softness of its nest.
Night follows day, day follows dawn,
And so the time has come and gone:
And it's weary, weary waiting, love.
The cruel wind is rising
With a whistle and a wail.
(And it's weary, weary waiting, love.)
My eyes are seaward straining
For the coming of a sail;
But void the sea, and void the beach
Far and beyond where gaze can reach!
And it's weary, weary waiting, love.
I heard the bell-buoy ringing--
How long ago it seems!
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poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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For Government To Be Fair!
for any government to be fair,
every citizen has to be
just as important as every other.
every citizen has to have equal rights,
whether black or white,
rich or poor, gay or straight.
whether they believe in the same god,
in another, or in none.
whether they speak english,
or another language.
whether they are educated,
or not!
every citizen has to have an equal chance,
for employment, for education,
for housing, for love and happiness.
and every citizen has to respect,
both himself, and others...
this government should be
a government by the people...
any leader should be from among the people.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Adventure
Out of the wood my White Knight came:
His eyes were bright with a bitter flame,
As I clung to his stirrup leather;
For I was only a dreaming lad,
Yet oh, what a wonderful faith I had!
And the song in my heart was never so glad,
As we took to the trail together.
"Friends and lovers, good-bye," I said;
Never once did I turn my head,
Though wickedly wild the weather
min were the rover's rags and scars,
And the rover's bed beneath the stars,
But never the shadow of prison bars,
As we ranged the world together.
Dreary and darkling was the trail,
But my Knight was clad in a gleaming mail,
And he plucked from his plume a feather.
And oh how foolishly proud was I!
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poem by Robert William Service
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Downfall - 1053 - Current Version of Fallen is Star
Fallen is star which once brightly,
there clear in fair firmament shone,
no trace now remains as Time lightly
grieves sleeves, life's sheeved leaves ever gone.
Love's star which once seemed infinitely
to bloom beyond tomb meets doom, dumb,
as sentiments sent expeditely
to Lethe mock joyride's vain sum.
Dreams' themes lie unechoed, contritely
one wonders what might have become
if fate had dealt less reconditely
ere great expectations succumb.
Whosoever would compromise slightly
with principles life's staff has spun
must offer impression unsightly
some pity, some spurn, and most shun.
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Whence We Came
We whom sway not our fertile seed
Mute are we in our conception
Absent are the concept of time and memory
Oblivious are we to our tether eons binding
Unresisting, our soul instilled
Divine action distinctively molds
Unsullied, we embark on life's journey anew
To wit, our epic moment arrives
Hope gleams? Favoring arms await?
With consciousness endowed, thus stirs the will
Heirs to universal wonders, absolutes soon to be denied
Conflicts ensue, paradoxical immortals we simply resolve to be
Illusionists too inclined, veiled imageries easily entice
Impassioned, roads well traveled subtly beguile
Reluctantly, life's impasses too often realized
Pretense, oh fragile bastion
Welcomed balm that cloaks that hides
Beginnings too quickly end and our end too quickly arrives
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poem by Charles Hughes
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Scattered Notes / Shifting Scenes
Re-piecing scattered notes as the music
rises and floats, riding off toward the unseen
horizon
old soul acoustics that whimper and moan
lacquered eyes of a lost hound crying dry
twangy tears over the harbor at sunrise
pruning weeds, planting seeds
fruit ripening, petals blossoming
tending the process of growth
reaping rewards of the harvest
Just a dog riding along
passenger side with his head
out the window, tongue flapping
in the wind, trying to follow the passing world
passing second hand shops smelling of
worn leather and pass me down denim
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poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Heart Attack (a Sestina)
What angelic chorals sing?
These messengers of heaven
Whose words are none of earth
Rising like mists amid the mountains
Rolling down to pastoral valleys
Stirring my fragile heart
My sullen, throbbing heart
Mumbling, for it can't quite sing
Its beat more full of valleys
Than peaks toward heaven
I miss those tracings in the shape of mountains
Which anchor me to this earth
Sweet, sweet earth
How you fill my heart!
Your noble, snowy mountains
Rising proudly to sing
At the feet of heaven
I long to see your valleys
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poem by John Christensen
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The Laird Of Waristoun
Down by yon garden green,
Sae merrily as she gaes;
She has twa weel-made feet,
And she trips upon her taes.
She has twa weel-made feet;
Far better is her hand;
She's as jimp in the middle
As ony willow wand.
'Gif ye will do my bidding,
At my bidding for to be,
It's I will make you lady
Of a' the lands you see.'
* * * * *
He spak a word in jest;
Her answer was na good;
He threw a plate at her face,
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poem by Andrew Lang
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Geo_metrics after XJ Kennedy Geometry
They say who play at blindman's buff,
verse trophies strive to gain,
that lines time challenge long enough
won’t find their waiting vain.
Any two lines laid parallel
which one day seem point miss
may meet with recognition well
above contemporary hiss.
Anticipation staves off curse.
Although today most spurn
my verse they surely shall rehearse
each strophe and return
thereto when Shakespeare's long forgot,
his sonnets Styx shall swallow,
while critics, p[r]etty prickly lot,
read s[l]ick screeds boomerang hollow.
29 December 2008 parody X.J. Kennedy Geometry robi3_1xxx_kenn2_0005
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Molecular Evolution
At quite uncertain times and places,
The atoms left their heavenly path,
And by fortuitous embraces,
Engendered all that being hath.
And though they seem to cling together,
And form "associations" here,
Yet, soon or late, they burst their tether,
And through the depths of space career.
So we who sat, oppressed with science,
As British asses, wise and grave,
Are now transformed to wild Red Lions,
As round our prey we ramp and rave.
Thus, by a swift metamorphosis,
Wisdom turns wit, and science joke,
Nonsense is incense to our noses,
For when Red Lions speak, they smoke.
Hail, Nonsense! dry nurse of Red Lions,
From thee the wise their wisdom learn,
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poem by James Clerk Maxwell
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