Oasis.

how did i miss this thread? some of my favourite poets here - Byron, sighs. what moments, what wonders, words can create given the right mind weilding them
 
Emily

There is a solitude of space
A solitude of sea
A solitude of death, but these
Society shall be
Compared with that profounder site
That polar privacy
A soul admitted to itself —
Finite Infinity.
 
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Peter Sinfield

sophieloves said:
sigh. the rain - when you get so wet, clothes seem a nonsense
Outside my window
In the courtyard of the world
A gentle rain was falling
No breath of wind
No cry of beast or bird
Too quiet, too still, I turned

To see the raindrops
Like a thousand poet's words
Splash their circles on the stones
And seem to wash
Over everything with love
And for a moment the courtyard heard

Until the sun
Came bursting through the clouds
Hung up his rainbows in the sky
And with a laugh of flames
Said, "Now go chase the gold"
And the world became the world

Now we're all travellers
Some seekers and some sought
Who leave the courtyard to be caught
In nets of self
Damned certainty and choice
But do you believe our voice?

You — you've got what must belong to me
I need — I'll bleed for more possessions
You — you've got no right to disagree
Bow, kneel, or fear my aggressions


Thank God if sometimes
Your oyster holds a pearl
When the world remains the world
 
ty - i've never read that before.


To see the raindrops
Like a thousand poet's words
Splash their circles on the stones
And seem to wash
Over everything with love
And for a moment the courtyard heard




ahhhhh. s'lovely
 
sophieloves said:
ty - i've never read that before.


To see the raindrops
Like a thousand poet's words
Splash their circles on the stones
And seem to wash
Over everything with love
And for a moment the courtyard heard




ahhhhh. s'lovely
http://www.songsouponsea.com

On soft grey mornings widows cry
The wise men share a joke
I run to grasp divining signs
To satisfy the hoax
The yellow jester does not play
But gently pulls the strings
And smiles as the puppets dance
In the court of the Crimson King
 
Tell-tale signs

You can tell a lot from a person's fingerprints. And from the nails - the length of the nail, the way the nail is cut, the cleanliness of the nail, the choice of nail polish, the way in which implements are held, the blood seen coursing through the vessels, the hues of the skin, places those fingers have ventured and worked, signs of pending arthritis. Makes me think of flexing and extending and abducting and adducting and circumducting. And of fingering. All good.
 
Wings

If I had wings to fly
I'd breathe in deep
and spread them wide
as I leap from the cliff
into the wind
where the gulls glide.

Crossing this wide sea
I glide above cruel waves
that reach up to drown my flight
in their cold
deep
blue-green graves.

And as your day grows slowly light
I'd arrive on worn-out wings
to hold you
in your waking dreams
and feel you soft
and gently warm
in my embrace at last.
 
Lisa

While I have no direct evidence, in retrospect (and from constant replays) I believe the person may well have been female. Wow. Soooooo exciting, especially for Lily.
 
We were there

It was such a dream -
We were there
I felt you breathing
I danced in your eyes
I stroked your lips
I stole a kiss

It was such a feeling -
We were there
Oh so warm inside and out
I laughed with you
I talked with you
I touched you
I hugged you

Our souls were together
We were there
Angels danced
Stars twinkled a little brighter
The moon smiled at us
The world stopped

No one can understand -
We were there
We became one
for a moment in time
We are now a part of each other
for a lifetime

It was the sweetest of sweet -
We were there
I took a part of you to keep
I gave you a part of me to keep
We gave each other a dream
We were there
 
For Lily

Night after night
darkness
enters the face
of the lily
which, lightly,
closes its five walls
around itself,
and its purse
of honey,
and its fragrance,
and is content
to stand there
in the garden,
not quite sleeping,
and, maybe,
saying in lily language
some small words
we can’t hear
even when there is no wind
anywhere,
its lips
are so secret,
its tongue
is so hidden –
or, maybe,
it says nothing at all
but just stands there
with the patience
of vegetables
and saints
until the whole earth has turned around
and the silver moon
becomes the golden sun –
as the lily absolutely knew it would,
which is itself, isn’t it,
the perfect prayer?

Your acanthus is troubling me, by Arthur Sze.

xoxo
 
Got message

Been on long exhaustive country trip. Headache precludes writing more. Catch you later, Lily.
 
November 1

Tradition to contact on this date yet extremely awkward as never alone all day and in midst of training. May I have, in lieu, some of your special verse...would mean a great deal? Heaps happening here, Lily.

XOXOXO
 
Wow

That's a lovely letter. Pang, pang, panggggggggggggggg. Was just searching in w/c under the nomenclature AsBloke. Miss you. Terribly.

XOXOXO
 
62 opals

Happily, I went to http://www.lightningridge.net.au/ and found 69, which is a much nicer number. Each one is 8mm but, when wet, can becum 8cm dilated by a special tool. We call these 'twelve and a half inches of throbbing flesh' tools. I hope this may assist your query. Which I'm not.

XOXOXO
 
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