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| Writings & Quotes |
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| She lies upon the couch, asleep, her head turned to one side, hair seeming to flow back upon the pillow. Her blouse is open at the throat, an artery pulses aginst the pale skin. Her breathing is regular, peaceful. She is a child, despite the long artificial eyelashes, the carefully done hair, the voluptuous body; the spirit of the child hangs over her like an innocent light. Her eyelids tremble, a dream perhaps........ Her eyes open. She asks fully awake, "What day is it?" Norman Rosten Of Gemini born, the twin stars, Twin demons of her cold sky, The body aflame, the soul in dread. Round her the Furies in their black ring. Obscenely mocked, crying Give us love. We watched and brought her anguish with our coins. To live a life full of fear and fear itself in love is to be untouched, through all time incomplete....but to fail a risk of the heart when true love is at stake, is morning to thy spirit, all eternity alast. "To The Weaping Willow" -------------------------- I stood beneth your limbs and you flowered and finally clung to me, and when the wind struck with the earth and sand-you chung to me. Thinner than a cobweb I, sheerer than any- but it did attach itself and held fast in strong winds life-of which at singular times I am both of your directions- somehow I remain hanging downward the most, as both of your directions pull me. Quicksand Years ------------------ Quicksand years that whirl me, I know not whither. Only the theme I sing, the great and strong posessed soul, eludes not; Ones self must never give way--that is the final substance--that out of all is sure; Out of politics, triumps, battles, life--what atlast finally remains? When shows break up, what but Ones Self is sure? Walt Whitman Beauty is truth, truth beauty-that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know. John Keats Butterfly ----------- Not long ago a man placed his tentative foot outside. Looking for more than his mere existance. Feeling and feeling the ugly form of his thoughts, it's many legs and every hungry mouth consuming life. Toiling in an empty wasteland of foliage, going from to day to day not seeing, nor giving back. The man gave up weaving himself a cocoon. Spun in the pain of yesteryears, it's threads tightly bound together, supple as silk yet strong as steel as it seemed, as he lay there thinking of a miserable life, without joy or contentment. Inside this tiny prison there seemed to be light still, "But from what source?" he wondered while there. For even though the complete darkness enveloped him, still a little light winked, teasing him. And as he pondered this to himself, he began to grow, he began to change. Inside his little world he became confused. He was confused because he was becoming somthing new. Somthing he had only dreamed of being, and had only brief awareness of in his other small world. Somthing that he had barley noticed. And then one day he found he was cramped inside his walls. The sinew had become too tight for him. And he struggled...and struggled...feeling the urge to go onwards. Toward whatever lay outside his limited domain. To be free...he thought...as he had never been free before. And as he broke through the walls, he felt a new creature. and as he looked at his body he wondered at it. For he was somthing all together different. His numerous feet had changed to a few. His body instead of being ugly had changed, it was long and beautiful and it had wings! And as he unfolded them he reconized the beauty of them, and how delicate and lovley they were. And he said to himself, how can this be? But very shortly after he made sure this was not a dream. With the next passing breeze, he flew out in the meadow in a rush, eager to see all the things that he had missed. And the magnificence of his wings shining out, sending a glow into the world in appreciation. *Andrew* Drifting --------- Are we just drifting away Flotsam on life's sea? Are we leaves blown off our branch By the winds of change? Are we two peas in a pod Now sheltered and in deep freeze Are we the queen of heart and the king of spade Dealt out by the hand of fate? Or are we just giving each other A little needed space? Sunil Shabad Weeds -------- My minds front yard is wild with weeds Fear, hurt, sorrow Will you help me pluck them out, Mop down despair, Plant seeds of peace. Watch flowers of joy Bloom in the spring of our lives? Sunil Shibad "In her heart is a questing fever that will give her no peace, that drives her on "to strive, to seek, to find" and then to strive and seek again. Her soul will allways be restless, unquiet." Maurice Zolotow From time to time I make it rhyme, but don't hold that kind of thing aginst me- Oh well, what the hell so it won't sell. What I want to tell- is what's on my mind: 'taint Dishes, 'taint Wishes, it's thoughts Flinging by before I die- and to think in ink. "Gaurdian Angel, I sail away with you by my side"....Orange clouds roll by; They burn into your image and your still alive. Heart Searching, By: Hope I question what is missing Why is it that I seek Why am I ever searching, Upon lips that never speak The searching continues How will my heart survive My mind you left alert Will answers ever arrive I'm left here at a standstill Still hoping you can revele With emptiness in my heart I am making this appeal I hold you responsible for making my heart weak Only you have the answers I think it's time to speak What are you afraid of Is your heart breaking too I seek and search for answers They can only come from you Seeking unsolved mysteries Questioning and hoping to find Feelings that's left in your heart Revealing what's there on the mind And Where Were You, By: Valerie I never thought I'd see this day. I never thought I'd feel this way. You...A stranger to me now. I'm left with emptiness... I wish I knew now how it could be, That we were once so open and free. You were like my brother...yet so much more I wish I would have seen what I see now before. For, I did not and it's too late. My friend, my lover once, is now unknown. And what hurts the most is I now know... What I lost...and I'm alone, To face a challenge life has sent, And not a moment with you I've spent. I hope one day I can forgive you, my friend.. I miss you.... Why did you go? I Am Alone ------------ I am alone and allways will be-- Even tho he says he loves me. We have not shared a kiss... Or felt the heat of longing touch But our hearts are entwined forever I am alone and always will be But I will stand at heavens gate And he will find me....my soul mate. If, By: Rudyard Kipling If you can keep your head when all about you are loosing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowence for their doubtig too; If you can wait and not be tired by waitig, nor being lied about, don't deal in lies, nor be hated, don't give way to hating, and yet don't look too good, nor walk too wise: If you can dream - and not make dreams your master: If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim, If you can meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two imposters just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build 'em up with warn out tools: If you can make one heap with all your winnings and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, and loose, and start again at your beginnings and never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you except the will which says to them: "Hold on!" If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, or walk with kings - nor loose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds worth of distance run, yours is the earth and everything that's in it, and - which is more - you'll be a man, my son! We bury with many different emotions. Rarley with intimations of mortality. "Buried" is the ultimate seperation of them and us. As others lives are often only dreams to us, so also others' deaths. Josephine Hart - "Sin" Life is a series of experiences, each one of which makes us bigger, even though it is hard to realize this. For the world was built to develop character, and we must learn that the setbacks and griefs which we endure help us in our marching onward. Henry Ford (1863-1947) George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron 1788-1824 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 fortold; Sorrow to this The due 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 it's 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 decieve. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee? With silence and tears. |
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