Twenty-First. Night. Monday

Twenty-first. Night. Monday. Silhouette of the capitol in darkness. Some good-for-nothing -- who knows why-- made up the tale that love exists on earth. People believe it, maybe from laziness or boredom, and live accordingly: they wait eagerly for meetings, fear parting, and when they sing, they sing about love.

Crossing Brooklyn Ferry

FLOOD-TIDE below me! I watch you face to face; Clouds of the west! sun there half an hour high! I see you also face to face. Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes! how curious you are to me! On the ferry-boats, the hundreds and hundreds that cross, returning home, are more curious to me than you suppose; And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence, are more to

Take-Home Pay

Now that you arrived in the afterlife, What was your earned income? Hope you did not see the ugliness Of laziness, greediness, and loftiness, Damaging gratifications of hideous temptations, Deadly leprosy of hidden jealousy, The unsightliness of superfluity, The repulsiveness of impurity and irascibility.

Men! ! ! !

Men lament that they have no time to do things needed being done. Yet, they sit wasting time, watching T.V. for hours at a time. Not associating it with their apparent laziness and lack of initiative.

A Fable For Critics

Phoebus, sitting one day in a laurel-tree's shade, Was reminded of Daphne, of whom it was made, For the god being one day too warm in his wooing, She took to the tree to escape his pursuing; Be the cause what it might, from his offers she shrunk, And, Ginevra-like, shut herself up in a trunk; And, though 'twas a step into which he had driven her, He somehow or other had never forgiven her; Her memory he nursed as a kind of a tonic, Something bitter to chew when he'd play the Byronic,

The Poet

The riches of the poet are equal to his poetry His power is his left hand It is idle weak and precious His poverty is his wealth, a wealth which may destroy him like Midas Because it is that laziness which is a form of impatience And this he may be destroyed by the gold of the light which never was On land or sea. He may be drunken to death, draining the casks of excess That extreme form of success.

New Attire And

New attire and Sunday,9th May 2021 It is me in a new attire people may satire and pass the comments but I love to present as I look like it made me to come out with a new outlook shrug off the laziness and look forward

On Children's Day.

On the children's day, To the Lord I pray. May God bless, To one and all success. To be a good teacher, And humanity preacher. To be a fine weaver, Of virtues and character. I pray to the Lord, To all children award.

A Lounger

He leant against a lamp-post, lost In some mysterious reverie: His head was bowed; his arms were crossed; He yawned, and glanced evasively: Uncrossed his arms, and slowly put Them back again, and scratched his side-- Shifted his weight from foot to foot, And gazed out no-ward, idle-eyed. Grotesque of form and face and dress,

Weed Out The Indolent And Corrupt

You got your seat Without any drop of sweat Relied on your grandfather Your namesake And full time provider. Your platform of government Was capitalized On his exemplary service Integrity beyond reproach

Homes Of Poverty

La Chevelure (Her Hair)

Ô toison, moutonnant jusque sur l'encolure! Ô boucles! Ô parfum chargé de nonchaloir! Extase! Pour peupler ce soir l'alcôve obscure Des souvenirs dormant dans cette chevelure, Je la veux agiter dans l'air comme un mouchoir! La langoureuse Asie et la brûlante Afrique, Tout un monde lointain, absent, presque défunt, Vit dans tes profondeurs, forêt aromatique! Comme d'autres esprits voguent sur la musique,

The Coach Of Life

Although her load is sometimes heavy, The coach moves at an easy pace; The dashing driver, gray-haired time Drives on, secure upon his box. At dawn we gaily climb aboard her We're ready for a crazy ride, And scorning laziness and languor, We shout: 'Get on, there! Don't delay!'

The Dice Player

Who am I to say to you what I say to you? I was not a stone polished by water and became a face nor was I a cane punctured by the wind and became a flute... I am a dice player, Sometimes I win and sometimes I lose I am like you

You Are Late

In my laziness I started late To meet you, You talked to me Your voice trembling You were in great pain But your courage You did not make me realize You asked me that I pray for you I left you to others care

La Serpent Qui Danse (The Dancing Serpent)

Que j'aime voir, chère indolente, De ton corps si beau, Comme une étoffe vacillante, Miroiter la peau! Sur ta chevelure profonde Aux âcres parfums, Mer odorante et vagabonde Aux flots bleus et bruns,

No Tomorrow And

No tomorrow Wednesday,4th July 2018 Yes no wait for anything before it seals the fate for everything get on fast with the target and never get late the year may have many days but it may stall the way

Order To The Mind

Satan residing little mind Listen to my words from today Don't you go searching alone For Im your leader, you better know Mother Sakthi's feet and Righteousness, as what I proclaim to be Without laziness you shall stand and work I sermonize, abide and you will live high.

ray's Favorite Writings

“I SPEAK TO THEE OF LIGHT” The Master spoke… Brethren, I speak to thee of Light: The dark/cold void is dead, The Light warm and life-giving Verily I say unto thee,

Daffodil He Will He Will

Why this imagined need to look outside oneself for direction? Is it laziness? Or, more likely, the fear of discovering the truth? Divine creation