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A Case Of You
HAVE A HEARTH"
I heard the news from a friend of mine and urs
She said the smell of missing me
was coming from ur pores!
She said i broke ur hearth so bad
I didnt deserve u back
But dont u have a hearth 1st b4 u get it broken?
Dont u have 2 wanna tell the truth b4 a word is spoken?
So what about the hearthbreak?
Everybody's had one c
The fault of mine goes 2 L.A 2 the streets of N.Y.C
but aint crying about payements overdue
I got some milk but no drop is spilled
over things u put me truh
Can't u c we're all just trying
Trying 2 get ths hustle on...
Looking 4 the rightteous 2 buuy in...
til we right everyone of the wrongs
So what about the heaerthbreak?
Everyone had one c...
Have a hearth
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perfection
If my sorrow's cause of the Sigh
thy loveth not thine but thine guy
Thou hearth bleeds, with no eyes CRY
input per second's thousand a lie
if thine hearth's to pass by
yet to affect only mine
if my words and his rhyme never
then you'd choose no one forever
nonetheless its just fiction
never there was friction
and no differs in diction
yet I question your perfection.
poem by Ellirie Aviles
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Buddha Steps # 8
the trees are alive!
even in the dead of winter,
if you're still,
you can feel their pulse,
waiting....
chainsaws and axes,
matches and hearth.
you are alive!
just below your numbness,
if you're still,
you can feel your pulse,
waiting...
chainsaws and axes,
matches and hearth.
God is alive!
just beyond your conceptions,
if you're still,
you can feel eternity's pulse,
waiting...
chainsaws and axes,
matches and hearth.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Mumbai Wedding: An Obituary
Familiar signal for all to gather and bless
All rejoice but eye brims with unshed tear
Two become one, but grow more not less
Farewell to hearth draws ever more near
All rejoice but eye brims with unshed tear
The signature droning sound of shehnai
Farewell to hearth draws ever more near
Plaintive notes waft sweet and high.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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The Christian
I heard a story of a sailing man.
He was a surly sort of mariner,
He used to swear at all the seven seas,
And rode them dauntless up and down the earth.
But when he sickened of the windy wash,
He took to wife a proper village woman
And put her in a precious little house;
And there he weathered many winter seasons,
Knocking the ashes neatly from his pipe
Upon the tended hearth.
And only when he went upon the moors,
And felt the sting and censure of the winds,
And tasted of the salt blown in from sea,
Then only would he curse the marriage morning,
And swear he'd not go skulking back again
To sit that hearth like any broken bitch
Whose running time was over.
poem by John Crowe Ransom
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0208 If poets had a tail to wag
As your beloved, faithful dog
returns to his dear master's hearth
after burying deep some promising fine bone
as hostage to the future,
and with the long-lunged sigh
of those who know they could not have done better,
lays him on the hearth (with nose too near the falling coal)
to pass the sleep of a blissful clear conscience
broken only by the twitchy dream of chasing rabbits
(and like humans, does he never quite catch them before he wakes?
we'll never know...)
so the poet closes the notebook, switches off the PC,
and with the clear conscience of one
who knows that his poetry may not be all that good -
but that he couldn't have done better -
retires to bed, satisfied, content.
If bliss is then the emptied mind
the Muse of Poetry is kind.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Come on
Come on give me those cherry lips blooming
I'm cast in your dice
I'm cast to your side
And pray to my Lord
In winter's abode
My love for you
In hearth to abide
No past no future just a gift of present
Beautiful beautiful present from above
Cherry lips blooming in a cup of your love
In winter's freezing white washed desert
Your heart burning around my hearth
A gift from heaven winter joy and mirth
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Ah, Bleak And Barren Was The Moor
Ah! bleak and barren was the moor,
Ah! loud and piercing was the storm,
The cottage roof was shelter'd sure,
The cottage hearth was bright and warm—
An orphan-boy the lattice pass'd,
And, as he mark'd its cheerful glow,
Felt doubly keen the midnight blast,
And doubly cold the fallen snow.
They marked him as he onward press'd,
With fainting heart and weary limb;
Kind voices bade him turn and rest,
And gentle faces welcomed him.
The dawn is up—the guest is gone,
The cottage hearth is blazing still:
Heaven pity all poor wanderers lone!
Hark to the wind upon the hill!
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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He who has a stepmother has the devil at his hearth.
What's done in the corner will come to the hearth.
Scottish Gaelic proverbs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The real theater of the sex war is the domestic hearth.
quote by Germaine Greer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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