Hebe
Hebe had true glamor:
she cost a whole twelve dollars
at Cunningham department store's
bird nook in 1964.
She wore a stole of golden plumes
and peeped with bright eyes through the bars
of her little gilded room
decorated with a cuttlebone.
Sipped and shovelled
water and mill
from clear plastic cups
that were always kept full.
Of course we bought her right away
but pretty soon, at home, she opened her bill
and much, much to our dismay
uttered a loud, unexpurgated trill.
Grandma, who lived in the annex
and had mild diabetes informed us
to our shock that females don't sing-
that Hebe must, accordingly, be a boy.
Which news.....
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hebe II
Which news threw the household
into dire confusion. She sang-
so now we'd need to rename
the bloody thing.
But what? Stevie, perhaps, or
Jeff, maybe, or Bill?
Imagine our consternation when
out from Hebe flew another trill.
What should it be?
Hannibal? Caruso?
Hourly, we badgered Grandma
who smiled, not unpleasantly,
pleased to be arbitor
in so delicate a matter.
She thought and thought
of what was right and meet
and finally, God-like, delivered her verdict:
'Let he be Hebe. Change naught'.
So we did as she bid-Hebe kept his name
but sang alot
and that was the end of that.
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silver
Nirvana- Silver
Mom and dad went to a show
They dropped me off at Grandpa Joe's
I kicked and screamed, said please don't go
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Had to eat my dinner there
Mashed potatoes and stuff like that
I couldn't chew my meats too good
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
She said, well, don't you start your crying
Go outside and ride your bike
That's what I did, I killed my toe
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
After dinner, I had ice cream
I fell asleep and watched TV
I woke up in my mother's arms
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
I wanna be alone
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Canary In His Cage
SING away, ay, sing away,
Merry little bird,
Always gayest of the gay,
Though a woodland roundelay
You ne'er sung nor heard;
Though your life from youth to age
Passes in a narrow cage.
Near the window wild birds fly,
Trees are waving round:
Fair things everywhere you spy
Through the glass pane's mystery,
Your small life's small bound:
Nothing hinders your desire
But a little gilded wire.
Like a human soul you seem
Shut in golden bars:
Placed amidst earth's sunshine-stream,
Singing to the morning beam,
Dreaming 'neath the stars:
Seeing all life's pleasures clear,--
But they never can come near.
Never! Sing, bird-poet mine,
As most poets do;--
Guessing by an instinct fine
At some happiness divine
Which they never knew.
Lonely in a prison bright
Hymning for the world's delight.
Yet, my birdie, you're content
In your tiny cage:
Not a carol thence is sent
But for happiness is meant--
Wisdom pure as sage:
Teaching, the true poet's part
Is to sing with merry heart.
So, lie down thou peevish pen,
Eyes, shake off all tears;
And my wee bird, sing again:
I'll translate your song to men
In these future years.
'Howsoe'er thy lot's assigned,
Bear it with a cheerful mind.'
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pete's Music City
Well
Northern Georgia, highway 41,
Beside the carpet mill and the gas station
There was a music store, slash radio shack
With the sound of dreamers jamming in the back
Well we rocked all night and we rolled all day
We never bought nothin but we sure did play
The music was loud and the girls were pretty
There was always some magic down at Petes Music City
We had electric guitars just a gathering dust
And a chrome mic stand with just a little bit of rust
And a couple of amps with the volume on 10
When the last bell rings thats when the music begins
And we rocked all night
And we rolled all day
We never bought nothin but we sure did play
The music was loud and the girls were pretty
There was always some magic down at Petes music city
Well the years have been long, and they aint been kind
And they say all thats left is the old faded sign
But the musics still ringing loud in my heart
Down at Petes Music City where I got my start
Well we rocked all night
And we rolled all day
We never bought nothin but we sure did play
The music was loud and the girls were pretty
There was always some magic down at Petes Music City
We rocked all night and we rolled all day
We never bought nothin but we sure did play
The music was loud and the girls were pretty
There was always some magic down at Petes Music City
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Visit Of The Gods. Imitated From Schiller
Never, believe me,
Appear the Immortals,
Never alone:
Scarce had I welcomed the Sorrow-beguiler,
Iacchus! but in came Boy Cupid the Smiler;
Lo! Phoebus the Glorious descends from his throne!
They advance, they float in, the Olympians all!
With Divinities fills my
Terrestrial hall!
How shall I yield you
Due entertainment,
Celestial quire?
Me rather, bright guests! with your wings of upbuoyance
Bear aloft to your homes, to your banquets of joyance,
That the roofs of Olympus may echo my lyre!
Hah! we mount! on their pinions they waft up my soul!
O give me the nectar!
O fill me the bowl!
Give him the nectar!
Pour out for the poet,
Hebe! pour free!
Quicken his eyes with celestial dew,
That Styx the detested no more he may view,
And like one of us Gods may conceit him to be!
Thanks, Hebe! I quaff it! Io Paean, I cry!
The wine of the Immortals
Forbids me to die!
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hillfor the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
poem by Maya Angelou
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Caged Bird
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
poem by Maya Angelou (1994)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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My Nordic Christmas Story
I bought boots for Christmas to tread the icy plains.
I bought toys for Christmas with Santas in my trains.
I lit my home for Christmas with a Cedar bright.
I made cup cakes for Christmas for my love's delight.
I bought Jane a dress for Christmas with ribbons pink.
I bought for my grandma a cozy Christmas mink.
I bought for Jill two amazing Christmas Sparrows.
I bought for Jack a toy quiver full of arrows.
I bought an Elk for Christmas with nose giving light.
I bought for Christmas, candles for a solemn night.
I made for Christmas a warm and sweet lemonade,
and I sang on Christmas morn, a sweet Serenade.
poem by Joseph C Ogbonna (18 December 2020)
Submitted by Joseph C Ogbonna
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Keep Me Informed
Keep me informed,
When you think you see dawn.
And you are through with darkness
That supplied subdued restlessness.
And you wish to move on!
Yes...
Keep me informed.
Keep me informed,
When you're hopelessness has gone.
I will be there,
To chip aware what is left of your despair.
And you are prepared to sing songs!
Yes...
Please keep me informed.
Keep me informed,
If you feel you've been wronged.
With me I will help you undo...
Bitterness I have felt too!
And we will build a love...
Recognized and true.
Yes...
That is what we will do.
If you keep me informed.
Just keep me informed,
Take your time...
But don't take that time too long!
I've been searching for you.
You are someone who sees through...
Clouds you wish to lift!
And I am here,
To assist with the lifting of it!
Yes...
Keep me informed.
I know together we belong!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dithyramb
Believe me, together
The bright gods come ever,
Still as of old;
Scarce see I Bacchus, the giver of joy,
Than comes up fair Eros, the laugh-loving boy,
And Phoebus, the stately, behold!
They come near and nearer,
The heavenly ones all--
The gods with their presence
Fill earth as their hall!
Say, how shall I welcome,
Human and earthborn,
Sons of the sky?
Pour out to me--pour the full life that ye live!
What to ye, O ye gods! can the mortal one give?
The joys can dwell only
In Jupiter's palace--
Brimmed bright with your nectar,
Oh, reach me the chalice!
"Hebe, the chalice
Fill full to the brim!
Steep his eyes--steep his eyes in the bath of the dew,
Let him dream, while the Styx is concealed from his view,
That the life of the gods is for him!"
It murmurs, it sparkles,
The fount of delight;
The bosom grows tranquil--
The eye becomes bright.
poem by Friedrich Schiller
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I Love Ladies
Ya heard the ice was rockin, ticket sales were high
Bought some fresh adidas so you could look fly
Broke out from your crib rushin to get here
Tripped ans stumbled almost broke your neck comin down the stairs
Jumped into your ride, pushed the speed to the limit
Jumped out of your car faster than you jumped in it
Now youre at the jam but in for a shock
Stupid big line wrapped around the block
Through the walls of the hall you could hear me rhyme
Methodically you schemed a way to cut in line
But when you got inside the sight straightened your curls
Cause as you look around all you could see were girls
I love ladies
I think its time that I tell the truth
I been dissin females since my early youth
But you know thats a drag and theres no doubt
Cause females are the one thing that I cant do without
Female companionship is my one vice
I love to buy the girls things, love to treat em real nice
Homeboys you must admit the best part of each day
Is when a beautiful lady comes walkin your way
Females possess that one commodity that no man will ever have
Not that hangs around me
They got it, we want it, they move it, and flaunt it
They shake it and sway it, well die just to lay it
We try to supress it until they undress it
And beg em to use it, and cry not to lose it
No man can deny it so dont even try it!!!
I love ladies
Ladies are you with me? (yeeaahh!!)
I love ladies
Ladies are you with me? (yeeaahh!!)
That sounds nice (you know we love you ice!!)
Im junkie for females and thats a fact
Im not into havin my homeboys rubbin my back
Dont dig goin to the movies alone
Or talkin to myself on the telephone
Goin to a disco thats packed with men
Thats like tryin to get a dance in the federal pen
Walkin through a park with a gang of the guys
And a beach full of fellas never opened my eyes
And man if females are one thing that you dont need
You better get away from me at a high rate of speed
Cause if you dont like them you must like men
And homeboy thats where our serious problems begin
Because to me women are gods true gift
Theres absolutely no question who Id rather be with
I love ladies
I seen this fly girl walkin down the street
Jammin a box rockin to the beat
The girl looked pretty, she really looked nice
So I said to myself shes got to be with the ice
Walked over to her, started sayin my rhyme
She said ice youre so bad, you damn near blew my mind
I kept on rappin, runnin my mouth
The next thing I knew I was at her house
Looked at her closely, said for goodness sake
The girl was cut like a diamond, had curves like a snake
Her top half was heaven, the bottom was the hell
I knew tonight that the ice was gonna rock well
But then she started talkin mess about love and romance
Until she noticed the bulge growin in my pants
You shoulda seen the girls eyes as my body expanded
She grabbed for my leg, raw sex she demanded
My knees started knockin, I tried to run
She said please dont leave ice, I want you to come
This girl meant business I had no doubt
This is just about the time that the ice passed out
The next day I woke the girl was through
Room still smokin, my legs black and blue
My eyes bloodshot, my hair pressed straight
My knees still knockin, I knew I lost weight
She was the best yall, yes on this earth
I woulda paid a million dollars, thats what it was worth
If I had got her name or number it woulda been nice
But Im here to let you know the girl went off on the ice
I love ladies
Ladies are you with me? (yeeaahh!!)
I love ladies
Ladies are you with me? (yeeaahh!!)
That sounds nice (you know we love you ice!!)
No when it comes to partyin the ladies know how
When I ask for a reply they always scream owww!!
Its the homeboys always tryin to act real chill
Sometimes its jealous mcs mad cause they aint on the bill
Maybe they scared if they say ho!
They might lose their cool
But I got some news for you: a fools a fool
But dont get me wrong, most fellas do rock
They put their hands in the air, they take the show to the top
They start rockin with the ladies once the show begins
They dont stand lookin stupid like some mannequins
They dont lean against the wall like theyre I some trance
They did not come with no intention to party or dance
You know what? yo dead beats should just stay home
Leave me, my homeboys, and the ladies alone
We love ladies
song performed by by Ice T
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fan
LOVELY Semiramis
Closes her slanting eyes:
Dead is she long ago.
From her fan, sliding slow,
Parrot-bright fire's feathers,
Gilded as June weathers,
Plumes bright and shrill as grass
Twinkle down; as they pass
Through the green glooms in Hell
Fruits with a tuneful smell,
Grapes like an emerald rain,
Where the full moon has lain,
Greengages bright as grass,
Melons as cold as glass,
Piled on each gilded booth,
Feel their cheeks growing smooth.
Apes in plumed head-dresses
Whence the bright heat hisses,--
Nubian faces, sly
Pursing mouth, slanting eye,
Feel the Arabian
Winds floating from the fan.
poem by Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Old-Year Song
As through the forest, disarrayed
By chill November, late I strayed,
A lonely minstrel of the wood
Was singing to the solitude
I loved thy music, thus I said,
When o'er thy perch the leaves were spread
Sweet was thy song, but sweeter now
Thy carol on the leafless bough.
Sing, little bird! thy note shall cheer
The sadness of the dying year.
When violets pranked the turf with blue
And morning filled their cups with dew,
Thy slender voice with rippling trill
The budding April bowers would fill,
Nor passed its joyous tones away
When April rounded into May:
Thy life shall hail no second dawn,--
Sing, little bird! the spring is gone.
And I remember--well-a-day!--
Thy full-blown summer roundelay,
As when behind a broidered screen
Some holy maiden sings unseen
With answering notes the woodland rung,
And every tree-top found a tongue.
How deep the shade! the groves how fair!
Sing, little bird! the woods are bare.
The summer's throbbing chant is done
And mute the choral antiphon;
The birds have left the shivering pines
To flit among the trellised vines,
Or fan the air with scented plumes
Amid the love-sick orange-blooms,
And thou art here alone,--alone,--
Sing, little bird! the rest have flown.
The snow has capped yon distant hill,
At morn the running brook was still,
From driven herds the clouds that rise
Are like the smoke of sacrifice;
Erelong the frozen sod shall mock
The ploughshare, changed to stubborn rock,
The brawling streams shall soon be dumb,--
Sing, little bird! the frosts have come.
Fast, fast the lengthening shadows creep,
The songless fowls are half asleep,
The air grows chill, the setting sun
May leave thee ere thy song is done,
The pulse that warms thy breast grow cold,
Thy secret die with thee, untold
The lingering sunset still is bright,--
Sing, little bird! 't will soon be night.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eventail
Lovely Semiramis
Closes her slanting eyes:
Dead is she long ago,
From her fan sliding slow
Parrot-bright fire's feathers
Gilded as June weathers,
Plumes like the greenest grass
Twinkle down; as they pass
Through the green glooms in Hell,
Fruits with a tuneful smell--
Grapes like an emerald rain
Where the full moon has lain,
Greengages bright as grass,
Melons as cold as glass
Piled on each gilded booth
Feel their cheeks growing smooth;
Apes in plumed head-dresses
Whence the bright heat hisses,
Nubian faces sly,
Pursing mouth, slanting eye,
Feel the Arabian
Winds floating from that fan:
See how each gilded face
Paler grows, nods apace:
'Oh, the fan's blowing
Cold winds.... It is snowing!'
poem by Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pickney Red
Once lived a little black gal
And in de town dem said
Dat she wore a bright red cloak
So dem call her ‘Pickney Red.'
‘To grandma yu must gwan'
Her mudder sweetly said.
‘And tek dis wicker basket
Mi dear, dear, Pickney Red.'
So off she skipped quite happily
Without nu fear nor dread
Tru' de dark, dark woods
De basket nuff, nuff spread.
But poor Red never realized
Dat way up on ahead,
Lived a nasty, dutty wolf
And him name was Mr Fred.
‘What's yu name missy? '
Asked de cunning Mr Fred.
‘Why sir, yu nu know?
Dem called mi ‘Pickney Red.'
‘And where yu di gwan
With dat basket full of bread? '
‘Mi gwan to see mi grandmudder
Who lives far, up a-head
‘Yu wi get there quick, quick, quick
If yu tek dat route instead.'
‘Oh tank yu sir, so kindly'
And off skipped ‘Pickney Red.'
De Wolf him very swift
And found grandmudder in bed
He gobbled her up in one
And put her cap pon him head.
Red bang pan Grandma's door
‘Come in, mi Pickney Ned? '
‘No Grandma ah mi, ah mi,
Yu darling Pickney Red.'
‘Oh, Ah yu.' crocked de wolf-
‘Have yu brought mi hard-dough bread? '
‘Oh yes Grandma, dem freshly baked.
But yu voice! ' Gasped, Pickney Red.
‘Mi have a little cold, so what?
Dat's why mi still in bed.
What yu staring at child? '
‘Oh Grandma it's yu head! '
‘And what big ears yu have, '
‘De better to hear, Pickney Jed.'
‘No Grandma ah mi, ah mi,
Yu darling Pickney Red.'
‘And what big eyes yu have.'
‘De better to see, Pickney Ed.'
‘No Grandma, ah mi, ah mi,
Yu darling Pickney Red.'
‘And what big teeth yu have.'
‘De better to eat yu Red.'
‘Yu nat, yu nat, mi Grandma? '
And out de door she fled.
A woodsman heard one bawl
Towards de noise him sped
And when him see de ugly wolf
Gobble down Pickney Red.
He took his saw and jook him.
And there de wolf bled, bled.
And not so very long afterwards
De ginnall wolf was dead.
Den out dropped grandmudder
And out dropped Pickney Red
Dey thanked de woodsman kindly
Dat de ginnall wolf was dead!
poem by Elayne Ogbeta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Great Man's House
It was written in marble in golden letters:
here a great man lived and worked and died.
He laid the gravel for these paths personally.
This bench — do not touch — he chiseled by himself
out of stone.
And — careful, three steps — we're going inside.
He made it into the world at just the right time.
Everything that had to pass, passed in this house.
Not in a high rise,
not in square feet, furnished yet empty,
amidst unknown neighbors,
on some fifteenth floor,
where it's hard to drag school field trips.
In this room he pondered,
in this chamber he slept,
and over here he entertained guests.
Portraits, an armchair, a desk, a pipe, a globe, a flute,
a worn-out rug, a sun room.
From here he exchanged nods with his tailor and
shoemaker
who custom made for him.
This is not the same as photographs in boxes,
dried out pens in a plastic cup,
a store-bought wardrobe in a store-bought closet,
a window, from which you can see clouds better
than people.
Happy? Unhappy?
That's not relevant here.
He still confided in his letters,
without thinking they would be opened on their
way.
He still kept a detailed and honest diary,
without the fear that he would lose it during a
search.
The passing of a comet worried him most.
The destruction of the world was only in the hands
of God.
He still managed not to die in the hospital,
behind a white screen, who knows which one.
There was still someone with him who remembered
his muttered words.
He partook of life
as if it were reusable:
he sent his books to be bound;
he wouldn't cross out the last names of the dead from
his address book.
And the trees he had planted in the garden behind
the house
grew for him as Juglans regia
and Quercus rubra and Ulmus and Larix
and Fraxinus excelsior.
poem by Wislawa Szymborska
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The King's Daughter
WE WERE ten maidens in the green corn,
Small red leaves in the mill-water:
Fairer maidens never were born,
Apples of gold for the king’s daughter.
We were ten maidens by a well-head,
Small white birds in the mill-water:
Sweeter maidens never were wed,
Rings of red for the king’s daughter.
The first to spin, the second to sing,
Seeds of wheat in the mill-water;
The third may was a goodly thing,
White bread and brown for the king’s daughter.
The fourth to sew and the fifth to play,
Fair green weed in the mill-water;
The sixth may was a goodly may,
White wine and red for the king’s daughter.
The seventh to woo, the eighth to wed,
Fair thin reeds in the mill-water;
The ninth had gold work on her head,
Honey in the comb for the king’s daughter.
The ninth had gold work round her hair,
Fallen flowers in the mill-water;
The tenth may was goodly and fair,
Golden gloves for the king’s daughter.
We were ten maidens in a field green,
Fallen fruit in the mill-water;
Fairer maidens never have been,
Golden sleeves for the king’s daughter.
By there comes the king’s young son,
A little wind in the mill-water;
“Out of ten maidens ye’ll grant me one,”
A crown of red for the king’s daughter.
“Out of ten mays ye’ll give me the best,”
A little rain in the mill-water;
A bed of yellow straw for all the rest,
A bed of gold for the king’s daughter.
He’s ta’en out the goodliest,
Rain that rains in the mill-water;
A comb of yellow shell for all the rest,
A comb of gold for the king’s daughter.
He’s made her bed to the goodliest,
Wind and hail in the mill-water;
A grass girdle for all the rest,
A girdle of arms for the king’s daughter.
He’s set his heart to the goodliest,
Snow that snows in the mill-water;
Nine little kisses for all the rest,
An hundredfold for the king’s daughter.
He’s ta’en his leave at the goodliest,
Broken boats in the mill-water;
Golden gifts for all the rest,
Sorrow of heart for the king’s daughter.
“Ye’ll make a grave for my fair body,”
Running rain in the mill-water;
“And ye’ll streek my brother at the side of me,”
The pains of hell for the king’s daughter.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A flower for the night
I dreamed about a magical garden
where an assortment of flowers grows
with the most beautiful colours and hues,
delicate leaves and shapes
and as a full moon arced into the sky
throwing its golden rays
buds opened one after another
and the air was filled
with the most lovely scent
and that I found you
next to a pool with drifting lotuses
opening their cups
and when I opened my eyes
you lay beside me
and the scent was still in the air
and it was almost if we were still there.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grandma Sang A Special
Grandma sang a special in Montgomery
In the church where her youngest preached the word
He turned the tape recorder on and caught it
And still today, my Grandma can be heard
Grandma sang “I know who holds tomorrow”
And she sang it loud for everyone to hear
Today my Grandma’s singing it for Jesus
‘Cause he held a place for her in heaven’s choir
Grandma sang a special in Montgomery
And every time I hear that tape today
If I shut my eyes and listen to it closely
It seems like she is right here in this place
Grandma sang “I know who holds tomorrow”
And she sang it loud for everyone to hear
Today my Grandma’s singing it for Jesus
‘Cause he held a place for her in heaven’s choir
Grandma sings her specials now in heaven
And I’m sure that all who hear her say Amen!
I look forward to the day I’ll be in heaven
And, in person, I’ll hear Grandma sing again
Grandma sang “I know who holds tomorrow”
And I know he holds tomorrow for me too
One day he’ll come back and take me with him
‘Cause he held a place for me in heaven too
Grandma sang “I know who holds tomorrow”
And she sang it loud for everyone to hear
Today my Grandma’s singing it for Jesus
‘Cause he held a place for her in heaven’s choir
Copyright: C R Clark -9/13/08
poem by C.R. Clark
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song. The Smile
LET others love the pearly tear,
The blushing cheek adorning;
And say, 'tis like the dew-drop clear,
That gems the rose of morning.
Let others love to see the fair
With pensive mien appearing;
Be mine, to hail the sprightly air,
The dimpled smile endearing.
It speaks good-humour's mild control,
With magic fascination;
It tells the feelings of the soul,
With sportive animation.
Superior to the brightest eyes,
Or cheek with roses blooming;
A winning charm it still supplies,
The lovely face illuming.
'Twas Hebe taught fair beauty's queen,
The gay, bewitching wile;
And still her glowing lips are seen,
To wear a playful smile.
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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