Apollo Musagete, Poetry, And The Leader Of The Muses
Nothing is given which is not taken.
Little or nothing is taken which is not freely desired,
freely, truly and fully.
"You would not seek me if you had not found me": this is
true of all that is supremely desired and admired...
"An enigma is an animal," said the hurried, harried
schoolboy:
Television Addiction
Tom said, ” My! Dearest Friend Hick,
Why do you appear so weak and sick?
Do you have any major stress? ,
You seem to be in a great distress.'
'Has your father excluded you from his will? ,
Or has your wife again incurred a hefty bill?
'Has your son topped from bottom in his class?
Or has your boss again called you an 'ass' '
~ Ma Mama Ma Mama Ma Maaaa! ~
~ Ma Mama Ma Mama Ma Maaaa! ~
Ms. Nivedita
UK
23 November 2010
Into ~ After reading several comments I humbly give backdropp of this poem.
In poetry much experimentation are going on and critiques are categorizing in various ways like Realism Surrealism Modernism Romanticism etc.
To be honest no poetry can be canopied under one canvas and there will be pits where other flavors fill up.
First Light
Who are you oh painter?
How are you smiling?
Under the beneath of cracked cloud,
From whom you have got power?
Will not you whisper?
Oh dear smiley child of dawn,
We know, we know about,
You are First Light,
You are first painter,
Bringing essence of delighted mind,
Why Regret
Didn't you like the way the ants help
the peony globes open by eating the glue off?
Weren't you cheered to see the ironworkers
sitting on an I-beam dangling from a cable,
in a row, like starlings, eating lunch, maybe
baloney on white with fluorescent mustard?
Wasn't it a revelation to waggle
from the estuary all the way up the river,
the kill, the pirle, the run, the rent, the beck,
the sike barely trickling, to the shock of a spring?
Casanova
Nautical boundaries of your mind
Elapsed beneath the time frame
Of your wondrous consigns
Noteworthy for applauded brain game
In a mid of challenge
You stuttered for no apparent reason
A strategy beckons
Bestowed on amorous and gallant
Creating all the pleasant
He
Walking down the solitary lane
He kept on searching for the beautiful dame
For many years, as harsh time went,
Loneliness destroyed that sensuous scent
Fat skin though made him a cruel casanova
As his estranged mind wandered
Pursuing for the ravishing diva
And one day, he saw, as he suddenly stood by
It was her with her pout, smiling on a high,
That beauty mole was still there on her soft chin
Casanova
A ride in his car
all girls wished
To fly up in the sky
he never missed
To say you are my star
girls were in his arms
And they slipped into
his charm
His hazel eyes
were so bright
Then My Boldness Ran Away!
In my most recent path
upon stumbled beauty and opportunity
my eyes met her with a friendly greeting
it was like when an eagle spots its prey
or when two love birds first hear the others song
my vision was stuck and unmoved
the time called for boldness to scream and answer
but like a computer coded with too much information
I froze, I was to make action then my boldness ran away
just as ink runs out of a writers pen
The Old Yellow Brick Road
Where did my soul wander in the fields of time?
As I pondered,
At the slip, sliding of time,
Memories like an old movie reel,
With all my sentimental appeal,
How did I used to feel?
When my emotions soared into orbit,
With my thundering passion into a constant loving fit,
Twisting and turning with fiction,
3 Husbands
Numero Un:
To have and to hold,
A Midas,
Replete with gold.
Lord of mountain hideaway,
In Aspen,
For family play.
Casanova
I walk lamely
I stutter when I speak
I forget things easily
names, dates, places.
Why is it so?
Blame it on the casanova.
Venice
I swing my heart on Vivaldi's ‘Spring':
Blissfully I dance amongst the flowers!
Echoes in the ether—violin on strings,
And I promenade at rosy twilight-hours.
O sweet, nostalgic, dreamy Venice!
If only I could live in that epoch:
With curls, silk, satin, pearls, and lace:
Venice...Art in majestic grandeur!
Madam La Maquise
Said Hongray de la Glaciere unto his proud Papa:
"I want to take a wife mon Père," The Marquis laughed: "Ha! Ha!
And whose, my son?" he slyly said; but Hongray with a frown
Cried, "Fi! Papa, I mean - to wed, I want to settle down."
The Marquis de la Glaciere responded with a smile;
"You're young my boy; I much prefer that you should wait awhile."
But Hongray sighed: "I cannot wait, for I am twenty-four;
And I have met my blessed fate: I worship and adore.
A Wig Of Casanova.
A wig Of Casanova.
Lucifer became so clever -
Dreamt of a wig Casanova.
He forgot something main -
Passion unenough even fine.
The Chance Operations Of Short History And Features Of The World Literature Into Verse Paragraph
The Chance Operations Of Short History And Features Of The World Literature Into Verse Paragraph
20 January, 2019
World literature is sometimes used to refer to the sum total of the world's national literatures, but usually it refers to the circulation of works into the wider world beyond their country of origin. Often used in the past primarily for masterpieces of Western European literature, world literature today is increasingly seen in global context. Readers today have access to an unprecedented range of works from around the world in excellent translations, and since the mid-1990s a lively debate has grown up concerning both the aesthetic and the political values and limitations of an emphasis on global processes over national traditions.
Nesting Bird … 1712-2k12
The bonds that
In which, she took ample pride
So much like
a wilted blossom, too early died
A gentleman Ah!
supposed lone ranger, on eager steeds
sooner then not
on hand to many, in Casanova deeds
(((Second Hand Devotion)))
Here you go playin' with my heart again-
Practicin' your second hand devotion-
Stirrin' me into a lovin' hope again-
You're playin' with my emotion;
Why'd you have to come back anyway?
Messin' with my wore out heart?
Drivin' hope into my lonely soul-
Only-to take it all apart;
(falling Today) As Less Smart
A word reminds me why I feel so less than strong
Struggle as I feel I can't stand up ever so tall
A way leaves me feeling much less bolder
Yet I know that I'll never be like a Casanova
A time denies these stages
Deciding that it's best that I begin to cry from afar
But for now your aura continues to be colourful
Now falling today as less smart
Casanova
the chinese
portrait painter
boasts
for 10 bucks
i can also be:
a smoking Bogart
a riding Brando
or just Casanova