Seige ll
On the great, Marquinia table, inlaid pink and orange, he tossed the mockery bearing the English queen's seal with its manifold stamps and fancy ribbons.
'Thanks. Thanks, thanks. Much indebted... Thanks for...thanks...thanks, thanks...etc.'
-Of course. Don't mention it.
The envoys, who delivered the parchment but couldn't read it, were feasting on plaice and drinking Sicilian wine in the hall, below.
But the sea was bristling with ships, sailing placidly to Genoa, Marseilles, and faraway Valencia, bearing wheat and spices from the Levant and slaves to London.
'Good riddance. And the vile language! Barbaric.
Well, there was lots to do. Old horrors fade before fresh triumphs.
Across the harbor the new city was rising fast. He, himself, laid the first stone. Would he live to see it done?
He doubted it. Not the way he felt. But, God willing, he would.
On the mantel the clock chimed six. Along the peninsula, from every little belfrey, swung a bell on its rung. Soon there were many, a chorus. They rang a whole minute, then ceased.
Old Valette liked the sound of the bells. He would have a little dinner, then go to bed.
'And, Oliver-'
'Yes, sir? '
'Go to bed.'
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Related quotes
Seige
'I can't believe it, ' murmured old Valette, in toney Italian.'The nerve! '
His secretary's quip was earthier. He revered the old man and his crazy bravery.
'Who does she think she is? Thanks for nothing. Can she think of noone's interest but her own? A chip off the old block. Scandal! '
And so on...
'Oliver, she's your sovereign.'
Oliver said nothing. True, he didn't like siding against his queen. Say naught, regret naught. But he wanted his loyalties clear.
Looking out the corbelled window, across the harbor toward the ruins of St Elmo's, old Valette watched the crumbled western rampart and the stone-filled moat and the searching figures of the engineers on top. Like ants. He remembered the battle-those long, awful, bloody summer hours and days he would rather forget, but couldn't.
He thought of the men-how bravely they fought, how gladly and horribly they died. Looking nearer, he saw the ochre fronts of cliff-borne palaces. Like graceful outcroppings of the limestone they rose from.. Both turned fiery gold in the low sun. The in-between expanse of dozing water seemed an overspill for descending angels to bathe in. It turned back the sun's rays. Magnificent.
'As it always would be, ' he thought. Thanks to him. Anachronism, indeed.
But he didn't really think that last part. He just felt it.
Turning from the window and limping to the fireplace, he swore an expletive in Italian that must have sounded mild to Oliver's ears. Without doubt, English was the language of expletives.
On the great...
poem by Morgan Michaels
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The Bellman
He rang it in the marketplace,
He rang it in the street,
Old Silas was the Bellman
In the village of Purfleet,
He'd rung the bell for sixty years,
He'd rung the bell for war,
He'd rung it for the harvest
But would ring the bell no more!
The Mayor and all his councillors
Had met within the Hall,
Discussed the ponderous questions
That would bear upon them all,
Their gowns were trimmed with ermine
And the mayor, he wore his chain,
The solemn Majesty of State
Was heard in their refrain!
‘We must dismiss the Bellman, '
Said the hoary Abel Creep,
‘He rings it at the strangest times,
I just can't get to sleep! '
‘Agreed, ' said Horace Fumblewit,
It's more than time enough,
I thought that he'd be dead by this…'
‘Hear hear! ' said Toby Gruff.
They called him to the chamber
And delivered him the score,
Old Silas staggered back in shock,
They'd rocked him to the core!
He raised the bell above his head
And gave a mighty ‘Clang! '
Then jumped up on their table
Where they sat, their ears rang!
‘I've been the Bellman sixty years,
My father taught me then,
His father went before him, rang
The bell for Inkerman;
But way, way back before that time
My forebears had a stake,
They warned of the Armada,
Rang the bell for Francis Drake! '
He stomped along their table
In his coarse old hob-nailed boots,
He silenced their authority
To rule in mean disputes,
For every time a councillor
Would seek to raise his voice,
The bell would drown his utterance,
It gave them little choice!
‘There's been a Bellman in this burgh
Right back, before King John,
You think you petty underlings
Can rule once I am gone?
Your ancestors lie buried in
The gravel by the Church,
While mine live on in history…
I'll knock you off your perch!
He raised the bell and made it peal,
It rocked the ancient hall,
The walls shook with vibrations
‘Til the roof began to fall,
The beams came crashing down in a
Scenario from Hell,
‘Your time is not forever, ' cried
The man who rang the bell!
poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Bell From Europe
The tower bell in the Tenth Street Church
Rang out nostalgia for the refugee
Who knew the source of bells by sound.
We liked it, but in ignorance.
One meets authorities on bells infrequently.
Europe alone made bells with such a tone,
Herr Mannheim said. The bell
Struck midnight, and it shook the room.
He had heard bells in Leipzig, Chartres, Berlin,
Paris, Vienna, Brussels, Rome.
He was a white-faced man with sad enormous eyes.
Reader, for me that bell marked nights
Of restless tossing in this narrow bed,
The quarrels, the slamming of a door,
The kind words, friends for drinks, the books we read,
Breakfasts with streets in rain.
It rang from europe all the time.
That was what Mannheim said.
It is good to know, now that the bell strikes noon.
In this day's sun, the hedges are Episcopalian
As noon is marked by the twelve iron beats.
The rector moves ruminantly among the gravestones,
And the sound of a dead Europe hangs in the streets.
poem by Weldon Kees
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Duet
Milestone:
All my troubles disappear,
When the dinner-bell I hear,
Over woodland, dale, and fell,
Swinging slow with solemn swell,---
The dinner-bell! the dinner-bell!
Hippy:
What can bid my heart-ache fly?
What can bid my heart-ache die?
What can all the ills dispel,
In my morbid frame that dwell?
The dinner-bell! the dinner-bell!
Both:
Hark!---along the tangled ground,
Loudly floats the pleasing sound!
Sportive Fauns to Dryads tell,
'Tis the cheerful dinner-bell!
The dinner-bell! the dinner-bell!
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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PINK and GOLD Ribbons
These are the thoughts as my eyes see
Pink and gold ribbons calling me.
In the early morning rising I run to my window
And peer toward the far horizon
To see ribbons in the sky delighting my eye,
Bands of pink outlining oak and evergreen
This is the prettiest sight I've ever seen.
The pink precedes golden ribbons now appearing
Stretching wider into bands of color nearing
The onset of the sun so big, bright and beautiful
In daily praise and thanksgiving I am dutiful.
On a cloud-filled morning, no sun adorning
I know far above the gray and stormy cloud
Are angels in joyful chorus aloud
Waiting for me to join in their singing
And my own soul finds itself winging
Through the clouds, through pink ribbons
Through golden bands toward the Son
When my earthly life is done
My soul He has won.
Such are the thoughts as my eyes see
Pink and gold ribbons calling me.
© Mel Patterson,1-2-08
poem by Mel Patterson
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Dinner Bell
Ive been leaving on my things
So in the morning when the morning bird sings
Theres still dinner on my dinner jacket
til the dinner bell rings
Experimental dog*
Salivating dog
Good dog
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the dinner bell)
Dinner bell dinner bell ring
Ive been leaving on my things
So in the morning when the morning bird sings
Theres still dinner on my dinner jacket
til the dinner bell rings
I dont want a pizza, I dont want a piece of (experimental dog)
Peanut brittle, I dont want a pear.
I dont want a bagel I dont want a bean I wouldnt like (salivating dog)
A bag of beef or a beer or a
Cup of chowder, corn, cake, or creamed cauliflower cause Im (good dog)
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the dinner bell)
Dinner bell dinner bell ring
Shoulder, bicep, elbow, arm
Forearm, thumb, wrist, knuckle, palm
Middle, pinky, index, ring
Dinner bell dinner bell ding
I dont know whether Id rather be having a bottle of vinegar (experimental dog)
I dont know whether Id rather be having an egg.
I dont know whether Id rather be having an order of bacon (salivating dog)
Or whether Id rather be having a basket of garlic bread.
I dont know whether Id rather be having some pie or (good dog)
Saving my appetite cause im
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the dinner bell)
Dinner bell dinner bell ring
Ive been leaving on my things (Ive been leaving on)
So in the morning when the morning bird sings (the morning)
Theres still dinner on my dinner jacket (on my)
til the dinner bell does the bell thing
Dinner bell dinner bell do the bell thing
Im waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the ding)
Dinner bell dinner bell ding ding ding
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the ding)
Dinner bell dinner bell ding ding ding
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the ding)
Dinner bell dinner bell ding
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Genoa
A long farewell to Genoa
That rises to the skies,
Where the barren coast of Italy
Like our own coastline lies.
A sad farewell to Genoa,
And long my heart shall grieve,
The only city in the world
That I was loath to leave.
No sign of rush or strife is there,
No war of greed they wage.
The deep cool streets of Genoa
Are rock-like in their age.
No garish signs of commerce there
Are flaunting in the sun.
A rag hung from a balcony
Is by an artist done.
And she was fair in Genoa,
And she was very kind,
Those pale blind-seeming eyes that seem
Most beautifully blind.
Oh they are sad in Genoa,
Those poor soiled singing birds.
I had but three Italian words
And she three English words.
But love is cheap in Genoa,
Aye, love and wine are cheap,
And neither leaves an aching head,
Nor cuts the heart too deep;
Save when the knife goes straight, and then
There’s little time to grieve—
The only city in the world
That I was loath to leave.
I’ve said farewell to tinted days
And glorious starry nights,
I’ve said farewell to Naples with
Her long straight lines of lights;
But it is not for Naples but
For Genoa that I grieve,
The only city in the world
That I was loath to leave.
poem by Henry Lawson
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I See You...
I see you...
Holding onto someone else.
I see you,
Peeking from behind a disguise...
Trying to send a naked eye too!
I see you!
I see you!
Or do you think...
You are not in public view?
I see you...
Let others cuddle up and touch.
I see you...
Grinning like a mouse on weed too much.
And ready...
To taste some delicious fresh cheese.
I see you...
Opening up your eyes.
I see you...
Coming out of it,
Like you've been hypnotized.
Do I...
Look like marmalade or jelly?
Do I...
Look as if I'm not,
Processed cheese?
I see you...
Opening up your eyes.
I see you...
Coming out of it,
Like you've been hypnotized.
But do I,
Give-it-all-up-to-saaaayyyy...
Good luck.
Goodbye!
And...
Good riddance.
I see you...
And good luck.
And goodbye...
And,
Good-but-never-ever-wassss...
Riddance.
I see you...
And good riddance.
I see you...
And good riddance..
I see you...
And good riddance.
I see you...
And good riddance..
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Cities
(david byrne)think of london - small city
Dark - dark in the daytime
People sleep - sleep in the daytime
If they want to - if they want to
Im checkin em out
Im checkin em out
Ive got it figured out
Ive got it figured out
Theres some good points - some bad points
But it all works out - Im just a little freaked out
Find your city -
Find yourself a city to live in
I will find a city -
Find yourself a city to live in
A lot of bridges in birmingham
A lot of ghosts - and a lot of houses
Look over there - dry ice factory
Good place to get some thinking done
Im checkin em out
Im checkin em out
Ive got it figured out
Im the one who got it figured out
Theres some good points - some bad points
Find your city -
Find yourself a city to live in
I will find a city -
Find yourself a city to live in
Did I forget to mention -
Forget to mention memphish
Home of elvis and the ancient greeks
Do I smell - I smell home cooking
Its only the river - its only the river
Im checkin em out
Im checkin em out
Ive got it figured out
Ive got it figured out
Theres some good points - some bad points
Are those things real? denied!
Find your city -
Find yourself a city to live in
I will find a city -
Find yourself a city to live in
I will find a city -
Find yourself a city to live in
I will find a city
Find yourself a city to live in
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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London
CRUEL City, London, London,
Where, duped slaves of devils' creeds,
Men and women desperate, undone,
Dream such dreams, and do such deeds:
London, London, cruel city,
By day serpent, by night vampire —
God, in thy great pity, pity,
Give us light — though it be fire!
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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I Want You
Guilty undertaker sighs
Lonesome organ grinder cries
Silver saxophone says
That I should wait for you
The crack bells and the washed out horns
Blowing into my face with scorn
That's not the way
I wasn't born to lose you
[Chorus:]
I want you, I want you
I want you so bad
Honey I want you
Drunken politicians leap upon the street
While mothers weep
And saviors were fast asleep
They wait for you
I wait for them to read your looks
While drinking from my broken cup
And ask me to open up the gate for you
[Chorus]
I turn to the queen of spades
And talk to my chambermaid
She knows I'm not afraid to look at her
She is good to me
And there's nothing that she doesn't see
She knows where I like to be
But it doesn't matter
[Chorus]
Now you're dancing child
With his Chinese suit
He spoke to me and I took his flute
I know I wasn't very cute to him was I
But I did it because you like
Because you took him for a ride
Because the time was on his side
And because
[Chorus]
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bells and Queen Victoria
1911
"Gay go up and gay go down
To ring the Bells of London Town."
When London Town's asleep in bed
You'll hear the Bells ring overhead.
In excelsis gloria!
Ringing for Victoria,
Ringing for their mighty mistress--ten years dead!
THE BELLS:
Here is more gain than Gloriana guessed--
Then Gloriana guessed or Indies bring--
Then golden Indies bring. A Queen confessed--
A Queen confessed that crowned her people King.
Her people King, and crowned a11 Kings above,
Above a11 Kings have crowned their Queen their love--
Have crowned their love their Queen, their Queen their love!
Denying her, we do ourselves deny,
Disowning her are we ourselves disowned.
Mirror was she of our fidelity,
And handmaid of our destiny enthroned;
The very marrow of Youth's dream, and still
Yoke-mate of wisest Age that worked her will!
Our fathers had declared to us her praise--
Her praise the years had proven past all speech.
And past all speech our loyal hearts always,
Always our hearts lay open, each to each--
Therefore men gave the treasure of their blood
To this one woman--for she understood!
Four o' the clock! Now all the world is still.
Oh, London Bells, to all the world declare
The Secret of the Empire--read who will!
The Glory of the People--touch who dare!
THE BELLS:
Power that has reached itself all kingly powers,
St. Margaret's: By love o'erpowered--
St. Martin's: By love o'erpowered--
St. Clement Danes: By love o'erpowered,
The greater power confers!
THE BELLS:
For we were hers, as she, as she was ours,
Bow Bells: And she was ours--
St. Paul's: And she was ours--
Westminister: And she was ours,
As we, even we, were hers!
THE BELLS
As we were hers!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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An Inscription
At this fair oak table sat
Whilom he our Laureate,
Poet, handicraftsman, sage,
Light of our Victorian age,
William Morris, whose art's plan
Laid its lines in ample span,
Wrought it, trestle board and rib,
With good help of Philip Webb,
For an altar of carouse
In his own home, the Red House.
Thirty years and five here he
Made good cheer and company,
Feasting all with more than bread.
Had men stored the things he said,
Jests profound and foolings wise,
Truths unliveried of lies,
Basenesses chastised and set
Like hounds slain beneath his feet,
Knowledge prodigally poured,
His best wine, at this free board;
Nay, if but the crumbs he shed
Nightly round of heart and head
Gleaned had we, not this good hall
Half the wonders might install,
Wit's wealth lost, which now must sleep
Dumb when we have ceased to weep.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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It Must Have Been The Roses
Annie laid her head down in the roses.
She had ribbons, ribbons, ribbons, in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
I dont know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
Ten years the waves roll the ships home from the sea,
Thinkin well how it may blow in all good company,
If I tell another what your own lips told to me,
Let me lay neath the roses, till my eyes no longer see.
I dont know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
One pane of glass in the window,
No one is complaining, no, come in and shut the door,
Faded is the crimson from the ribbons that she wore,
And its strange how no one comes round any more.
I dont know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
Annie laid her head down in the roses.
She had ribbons, ribbons, ribbons, in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Creeds Of The Bells
How sweet the chime of the Sabbath bells!
Each one its creed in music tells
In tones that float upon the air
As soft as song, as sweet as prayer,
And I will put in simple rhyme
The language of the golden chime.
My happy heart with rapture swells
Responsive to the bells, sweet bells.
'Ye purifying waters swell!'
In mellow tones rang out a bell;
'Though faith alone in Christ can save,
Man must be plunged beneath the wave,
To show the world unfaltering faith
In what the Sacred Scripture saith;
Oh, well! ye rising water, swell!'
Pealed out the clear-toned Baptist bell.
'O, heed the ancient landmarks well!'
In solemn tones exclaimed a bell.
'No progress made by mortal man
Can change the just, eternal plan;
With God there can be nothing new;
Ignore the false, embrace the true,
While all is well! is well! is well!'
Pealed out the good old Dutch church bell.
'In deeds of love excel! excel!'
Chimed out from ivied towers a bell.
'This is the church not built on sands,
Emblem of one not built with hands;
Its forms and sacred rites revere -
Come worship here! come worship here!
Its rituals and faith excel!'
Chimed out the Episcopalian bell.
'No faith alone, but works as well,
Must test the soul!' said a soft bell.
'Come here and cast aside your load!
And work your way along the road
With faith in God and faith in man,
And hope in Christ, where hope began.
Do well! do well! do well! do well!'
Rang out the Unitarian bell.
'To all the truth we tell, we tell!'
Shouted in ecstacies, a bell.
'Come all ye weary wanders, see!
Our Lord has made salvation free!
Repent, believe, have faith, and then
Be saved! and praise the Lord! Amen!
Salvation’s free! we tell! we tell!'
Shouted the Methodistic bell.
'Farewell! farewell! base world, farewell!'
In touching tones exclaimed a bell.
'Life is a boon to mortals given,
To fit the soul for bliss in heaven.
Do not invoke the avenging rod.
Come here and learn the way to God.
Say to the world, ‘farewell! farewell!’'
Pealed forth the Presbyterian bell.
'In after life there is no hell!'
In raptures rang a cheerful bell.
'Look up to heaven this holy day,
When angels wait to lead the way.
There are no fires, no fiends to blight
The future life; be just and right.
No hell! No hell! No hell! No hell!'
Rang out the Universalist bell.
'The Pilgrim Fathers heeded well
My cheerful voice!' pealed forth a bell.
'No fetters here to clog the soul,
No arbitrary creed control
The free heart and progressive mind
That leave the dusty paths behind.
Speed well! speed well! speed well! speed well!'
Pealed forth the Independent bell.
'No pope, no pope, to doom to hell
The Protestant!' rang out a bell.
'Great Luther left his fiery zeal
Within the hearts that truly feel
What loyalty to God swill be
The faulty that makes men free,
No images where incense fell!'
Rang out old Martin Luther’s bell.
'Find rest! find rest! find rest! find rest!
Upon our Holy Mother’s breast,
From wearying strifes that never cease,
The mother church gives rest and pace.
Come, penitents, your sins confess
Where white-robed priests the faithful bless,
Where sacred Masses peal and swell!'
Deep tolled d the Roman Catholic bell.
Neatly attired, in manner plain,
A pilgrim see - no spot, no satin -
Slowly, with soft and measured tread,
In Quaker garb - no white, no red -
To passing friend I hear him say,
'Here worship thou, this is the way;
No churchly form, it is not well;
No bell - no bell - no bell - no bell.'
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Ships
If all the ships I have at sea
Should come a-sailing home to me,
From sunny lands, and lands of cold,
Ah well! the harbor could not hold
So many sails as there would be
If all my ships came in from sea.
If half my ships came home from sea,
And brought their precious freight to me,
Ah, well! I should have wealth as great
As any king who sits in state,
So rich the treasures that would be
In half my ships now at sea.
If just one ship I have at sea
Should come a-sailing home to me,
Ah well! the storm clouds then might frown,
For if the others all went down
Still rich and proud and glad I’d be,
If that one ship came back to me.
If that one ship were down at sea,
And all the others came to me,
Weighed down with gems and wealth untold,
With glory, honor, riches, gold,
The poorest soul on earth I’d be
If that one ship came not to me.
O skies be calm! O winds blow free--
Blow all my ships safe home to me.
But if thou sendest some awrack
To never more come sailing back,
Send any--all that skim the sea--
But bring my love-ship home to me.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Pour Me A Glass
Once upon a time I was sitting by,
A bottle of wine and all I knew was i,
I was gonna sip it down in a little while,
I drink it glass for glass but theres no reason why,
The bottle of wine has a taste so fine,
It makes feel good, it makes me blow my mind,
I cannot stop pour me another glass,
I would if I could, but now I need it fast,
I lost my friends, nobody holds my hand,
Like a lonley stranger in a long lost land,
I felt the feelings no one ever has,
Bartender, pour me a glass!
Chorus:
Pour me a glass, pour me a glass of a bottle wine...
Im drinking, Im not drinking, I cant tell you why,
How it started, how it ends but I do deny,
That I wanna ruin my life but now I wanna dive,
Into the silent ocean where there is no cry,
For hope, for me that I cannot see,
But if I faced the facts and go inside of me,
I would see myself, my own reality,
I would see myself, my own insanity,
Scared to move another step ahead,
I would lose the strength so I will fast forget,
What I do to myself, why dont you take a guess,
Bartender, pour me a glass!
Chorus...
song performed by by H-BlockX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Song Re-Sung
I saw three ships a-sailing,
A-sailing on the sea,
The first her masts were silver,
Her hull was ivory.
The snows came drifting softly,
And lined her white as wool;
Oh, Jesus, Son of Mary,
Thy Cradle beautiful!
I saw three ships a-sailing,
The next was red as blood,
Her decks shone like a ruby,
Encrimsoned all her wood.
Her main-mast stood up lonely,
A lonely Cross and stark.
Oh, Jesus, Son of Mary,
Bring all men to that ark!
I saw three ships a-sailing.
The third for cargo bore
The souls of men redeemed,
That shall be slaves no more.
The lost beloved faces,
I saw them glad and free.
Oh, Jesus, Son of Mary,
When wilt thou come for me?
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Weddin' Bells
I have the invitation that you sent me
You wanted me to see you change your name
I couldn't stand to see you wed another
But dear I hope you're happy just the same
Wedding bells are ringing in the chapel
That should be ringing out for you and me
Down the aisle with someone else you're walking
Those wedding bell will never ring for me
I planned a little cottage in the valley
I even bought a little band of gold
I thought some day I'd place it on your finger
But now the future looks so dark and cold
Wedding bells are ringing in the chapel
I hear the children laughing out with glee
At home alone I hang my head in sorrow
Those wedding bells will never ring for me
I fancy that I see a bunch of roses
A blossom from an orange tree in your hair
And while the organ plays I love you truly
Please let me pretend that I am there
Wedding bells are ringing in the chapel
Ever since the day you set me free
I knew someday that you would wed another
But wedding bells will never ring for me
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Compulsion To Settle For Simplicity....
there is no denying that as a native
i think like a native
am no Englishman from
London Bridge
but a Bisayan from
Mindanao,
as such, i have no choice
but just to be myself,
in the utter simplicity of my language
translating myself
word by word in the nuances of
your Anglo-American world,
there is this attempt to be a part of
your world
did they say that Enlightenment?
that Genius of ideas
is only possible in your world
and not in the
land of my ancestors who know
nothing but only about spices and
spears and arrows and
jugs of wine and tattoos and
barbaric songs?
let me say what i want to say
in a few vocabularies
you may not listen, but at least
i have spoken.
I am thus compelled for that
simplicity that allows me to write this way.
Because i have nothing more
to offer you
Because what i have is only this
insistence to open my heart
and speak
what little love is still
left in there.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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