The Widow

Cold was the night wind, drifting fast the snows fell, Wide were the downs and shelterless and naked, When a poor Wanderer struggled on her journey Weary and way-sore. Drear were the downs, more dreary her reflexions; Cold was the night wind, colder was her bosom! She had no home, the world was all before her, She had no shelter.

Historion

No man hath dared to write this thing as yet, And yet I know, how that the souls of all men great At times pass athrough us, And we are melted into them, and are not Save reflexions of their souls. Thus am I Dante for a space and am One Francois Villon, ballad-lord and thief, Or am such holy ones I may not write Lest blasphemy be writ against my name; This for an instant and the flame is gone.

Histrion

No man hath dared to write this thing as yet, And yet I know, how that the souls of all men great At times pass athrough us, And we are melted into them, and are not Save reflexions of their souls. Thus am I Dante for a space and am One Francois Villon, ballad-lord and thief, Or am such holy ones I may not write Lest blasphemy be writ against my name; This for an instant and the flame is gone.

Contents Page

The jungle, from the floor to the canopy, Clogs and entwines Its every rung and level with rank growth. The python dines Among an epiphytic gaudery And hungry vines. On the mizzled hair of the two-toed sloth Moss has designs. Yet all that climbing tonnage is content-free. The top limbs sway as though to write in air,

Reflexions

Maybe it's a dream that was never meant to be Only borrowed love lost in eternity Maybe it's the window to your soul Only blinding you with rock and roll Maybe it's the sounds of silence in the wind Elusive butterfly of love from Bob Lind Maybe it's only a feeling that we're coming together Husband and wife father and mother brother and sister Maybe we're gathering for peace and loving And we are mourning Woodstock not surviving

Muse Sings On Rhyme

MUSE SINGS ON RHYME If by poetry we mean thoughts or feelings on a page transcribed allowing each to guage inner meanings, purposed theme, then rhyme – which frames with golden gleam life’s page – may seem to set the stage for deeper dreams, reflexions sage,

All The Colors In A Rainbow

How did a bird, all the colours In a rainbow, come to find us. How was she discovered, brothers Wonders - my love is this for us. I promise you gifts, like this Don't fall out of magician's cuffs Look, look at her reflexions bliss, How beautiful, how beauteous How radiant her reflexion: Is she the sun, over water?

I Can't Avoid His Crown Of Thorns…

In a soggy crib, a pocket of winter I can't avoid His crown of thorns Loving reflexions on a Judas accuser His tongues sharp; glacier swords. Oh, Rasputin, they're mine own too Oh, don't split hairs dear blasphemer You're I is no peasant, mystic You're no adviser faith-healer to me.

Réflexions Constantes

Un ptéro-dactosaure dans le passé pré-historique est en fait un reptile ordinaire enfin loin dans les premiers temps de l'histoire un très énorme reptile voler constamment mais seulement pendant un certain temps son genre se réfère à un groupe maintenant éteint de reptiles ailés connus sous le nom de groupe de ptérosaures Je me souviens du ptéron grec,

Mignonne, Charles Varenagh Aznavour N'est Plus Avec Nous

Mon papa aimait beaucoup, plantureusement Charles Aznavour. Il écoutait ses chansons quand il buvait avec ses amis. Aznavour était pour nous, le prince, par excellence, de l'amour Qui possédait des grands talents et des styles inouïs. Au berceau, c'étaient les mélodies de sa voix qui me faisaient dormir, C'étaient ses chansons qui me plongeaient dans des sommeils, Où je rêvais et mouillais le drap blanc que le soleil, Plus tard, sécherait avec ses rayons d'or et de myrrhe.

Je Ne Dors Pas; Je Rêve

Je ne dors pas; je rêve Mes deux yeux sont ouverts Je vois le soleil à la crève Je réalise que le monde est pervers Après tant de réflexions De calculs et de contestations Les choses changent comme le caméléon Nous sommes tous encerclés par des lions. Je ne dors pas; je t'écoute

En Septembre

Nous sommes au mois de Septembre L'été vient juste de perdre ses membres Sa chaleur, sa beauté et sa tendresse. La température commence à se refroidir Toi, la parfaite perfide, viens de partir Avec tes cheveux garnis de vieillesse. Oh! Les choses ne restent pas les mêmes Tout change, tout se fond comme la crème

Réflexions

Je réfléchis sur mon pays Le sol natal de ma patrie Et ses supplications Et ses dépravations Je réfléchis sur nos malheurs Et mon coeur meurtri de douleurs Peuple déchu, mains tendues Plan déçu, âme rendue.

Grief From Mind End A.S. Griboedov

・THE PHENOMENON 21 The same and Hlestova, Sofia, Molchalin, Platon Mihajlovich, Natalia Dmitrievna, the Countess the grand daughter, the Princess with daughters, Zagoretsky, Skalozub, then Famusov and many others. Hlestovа Has become crazy! I ask obedient! Yes accidentally! Yes as it is quick! You, Sofia, heard? Platon Mihajlovich Who is the first do divulged?

Fine Wine

Adding and Subtracting the core of fine wine Arising mixtures of elements that are fine and aged with time. Sensations of the words of bittersweet, A drying texture running down slow to the satisfaction of a river that runs so deep. The unique stresses of affections yet the blessings come and go within the souls of imperfections.

I Miss You!

So many are the days, Added with hope, To read what you say. But today is just another day, Tomorrow maybe, From you I might hay. I miss you, and from missing you,

Mirrors

Mirrors all you see is reflexions how do you know that what you see is real all i see when i look into a mirrior is everything appears backwards My house reminds me of a fun house we have mirrors in almost every room all we need is a pointed roof over our heads and we will be living just like those circus clowns do

Home Sweet Home

Home sweet home, Ce n’est pas ce havre de paix trop bien rangé, Brillant de propreté, séduisant l’éventuel visiteur, Mais ta présence permanente, avec son désordre… Home sweet home, Ce n’est pas ce repas, préparé machinalement, Pris malgré moi dans l’inconscience des saveurs, Mais le partage attendu et le plaisir dans tes yeux...

Résignation

Après les déraisons et déceptions, Je reste désormais sans illusions, Il faut que je m’en fasse une raison Pour commuer l’échec en dérision. Soirs et matins se noient sous l’horizon De jours sans soleil, guéris de passions, Où le silence, tenace compagnon, Me nargue de sa commisération.

To Mate

The doubledance of sex entrains Reflexions of the predator With those of submission. Each advance of capability Entails the culpable as well. Each ploy to capture joy Demands designs to drop defense So that the meld, when closely held, Makes mosaics of soft flesh And sharply pointed fangs.