To G. C. And R. L.
'TWAS you, or I, or he, or all together,
'Twas one, both, three of them, they know not whether;
This, I believe, between us great or small,
You, I, he, wrote it not--'twas Churchill's all.
poem by Oliver Goldsmith
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To my small Hearth His fire came
638
To my small Hearth His fire came—
And all my House aglow
Did fan and rock, with sudden light—
'Twas Sunrise—'twas the Sky—
Impanelled from no Summer brief—
With limit of Decay—
'Twas Noon—without the News of Night—
Nay, Nature, it was Day—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Tinker Dick
Good Parson Dickson preached, I'm told,
A sermon-ah, 'twas very old
And very, very, bald!
'Twas all about-I know not what
It was about, nor what 'twas not.
'A Screw Loose' it was called.
Whatever, Parson Dick, you say,
The world will get each blessed day
Still more and more askew,
And fall apart at last. Great snakes!
What skillful tinker ever takes
His tongue to turn a screw?
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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I Had No Need
I had no need to be awake.
'Twas better in my bed.
The thought of facing life without him
was a thought better dead.
I had no need to open my eyes.
'Twas better not to see.
The thought of seeing the sun without him
was devastating to me.
I had no need to know the time.
'Twas better that time slip away.
The thought of time lingering now
is endless time each day.
There are no needs that now are mine.
'Twas a time I had them all.
We woke, we saw and knew the time,
now too hurtful to recall.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Body Of God!
forgive me, i erred,
i thought God contained
in the wind.... but twas
only one breath of infinity!
i thought i saw God
in the starving child's eyes,
but twas only one heartbeat
of compassion!
i thought i heard God
in the cries of the dying
on the battlefields of greed...
but twas human despair!
i thought i found God
down in the homeless shelter,
but twas only the faces
of my brothers and sisters!
so i walked away,
thinking God didnt care....
then a voice startled me...
'but you're my body! '
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Twas such a little—little boat
107
'Twas such a little—little boat
That toddled down the bay!
'Twas such a gallant—gallant sea
That beckoned it away!
'Twas such a greedy, greedy wave
That licked it from the Coast—
Nor ever guessed the stately sails
My little craft was lost!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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November's Chill
For 'twas in November's month
the change of guards took place
the month my heart fell to sleep
For 'twas in that darken time
our Love slowly faded away
and in passing, our words were few.
And I am left lonely an' oh so cold.....
For 'twas in November's month
we became two ships in passing
entering port's harbour at separate times
For 'twas in that lonely state
two hearts screamed of Love
and the sheets never warmed again.
And I am left lonely an' oh so cold.......
For 'twas in Novembers month
we tasted Love once again
and like the first time I know home
For 'twas in that lonely bed
separately we lay our heads
yet in dream, you are near as am I
No longer left lonely an' oh so cold...........
poem by Geoff Warden
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Twas Love—not me
394
'Twas Love—not me—
Oh punish—pray—
The Real one died for Thee—
Just Him—not me—
Such Guilt—to love Thee—most!
Doom it beyond the Rest—
Forgive it—last—
'Twas base as Jesus—most!
Let Justice not mistake—
We Two—looked so alike—
Which was the Guilty Sake—
'Twas Love's—Now Strike!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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The Way I Treated Father [A Bush Song]
I WORKED with father in the bush
At splitting rails and palings.
He never was unkind to me,
Although he “had his failings:”
And now his grave is old and green,
And now at times I’m rather
Inclined to think ’twas very mean
The way I treated father.
The mother had for years been dead,
And Dad and I and Stumpy
Were living in a little shed—
What bushmen call a humpy;
And now I think when day began,
And it was cold and chilly,
’Twas mean to see a grey old man
Get up and boil the billy.
And though my lazy limbs were stiff;
And though ’twas winter weather.
And though my eyes were shut as if
The lids were glued together,
I think ’twas mean to lie in bed;
I think that I was silly,
Because I growled if father said,
“Git up and bile the billy!”
I didn’t help the cooking much
For I was always “tired”—
’Twas strange that I could eat with such
An appetite as I had;
But now I mind I never growled
When father shouted, “Willie!
It’s gittin’ on for dinnertime;
Go home and bile the hilly.”
His grave is growing old and green
And things have altered rather;
But still I think ’twas mighty mean
The way I treated father.
He left a tidy sum to me,
But I’d give all the money
To hear him say, “Will you get up
And bile the billy, Sonny?”
poem by Henry Lawson
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'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore.
Night of Nights
‘Twas deep; so deep of night,
When I saw what I had seen -
So truly deep of night,
When I went where I had been,
And really deep of night,
When I heard what I had heard:
Perhaps a fox or badger,
Or a sort of night-time bird.
‘Twas late that night of nights,
When something there was there -
So very late that night of nights,
Where that thing was where -
'Twas deep of night of nights,
When it ran to where it ran:
Perhaps a stoat or Billy goat,
Or ghostly little man.
‘Twas in the night of night of nights,
When something scary caused a scare -
So late of night of night of nights,
When something hairy raised my hair -
The deep of night of night of nights…
So don't you wonder what it was?
Well I never really truly saw it -
Why? Because because!
‘Twas in the night of night of night of nights
Oh I've had enough!
Night night.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Night night, night night
Night night, night night
Night night
night
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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My Dream About You
My grief 'twas unendurable
Suffocating each instant in my breaths sigh
Ne'er to forget the reality that 'twas you
Forever as the Benediction of light in the sky;
Oh, that final moment still tarrys too long
All the flowers burned in a pyre of despair
I looked for a book of answers or an anthem
Suffering 'twas almost too much to bear;
I chose to praise your inner beauty and balance
Loosing myself in the immortal life stream
Recalling your face in a fragment of sweet memory
Oh, how blessed, are those who can still dream;
poem by Theodora Onken
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The Day that I was crowned
356
The Day that I was crowned
Was like the other Days—
Until the Coronation came—
And then—'twas Otherwise—
As Carbon in the Coal
And Carbon in the Gem
Are One—and yet the former
Were dull for Diadem—
I rose, and all was plain—
But when the Day declined
Myself and It, in Majesty
Were equally—adorned—
The Grace that I—was chose—
To Me—surpassed the Crown
That was the Witness for the Grace—
'Twas even that 'twas Mine—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink
566
A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink—
I hunted all the Sand—
I caught the Dripping of a Rock
And bore it in my Hand—
His Mighty Balls—in death were thick—
But searching—I could see
A Vision on the Retina
Of Water—and of me—
'Twas not my blame—who sped too slow—
'Twas not his blame—who died
While I was reaching him—
But 'twas—the fact that He was dead—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Upon The Sherrifs Beere
The Sheriffe of Oxford late is grown so wise
As to repreive his Beere till next assize:
Alas! twas not so quick, twas not so heady,
The Jury sate and found it dead already.
poem by William Strode
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To a Dead Poet
I knew not if to laugh or weep;
They sat and talked of you--
"'Twas here he sat; 'twas this he said!
'Twas that he used to do.
"Here is the book wherein he read,
The room wherein he dwelt;
And he" (they said) "was such a man,
Such things he thought and felt."
I sat and sat, I did not stir;
They talked and talked away.
I was as mute as any stone,
I had no word to say.
They talked and talked; like to a stone
My heart grew in my breast--
I, who had never seen your face
Perhaps I knew you best.
September Days
'Twas the last time that I need you
'Twas the last time that I love you
'Twas the last I'm gonna say your name
Now you're begging for forgiveness
Sorry boy I can't forgive you
'Coz you've now broken my emo heart
Pre Chorus:
The sunlight's already gone down
The roses already wilted up
But sometimes...
Chorus:
I miss your loving ways
That I lost during
Those September days
I hope that
You'll be back someday
I want you to be the same
September's day is dying cold
The days are coming back to me now
Ring out the grief that saps your heart
And let yourself run Into my arms again
poem by Jas Andrada
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The Call to Ireland
We have fought so much for the nation
In the tents we helped to divide;
Shall the cause of our common fathers
On our earthstones lie denied?
For the price of a field we have wrangled
While the weather rusted the plow,
' twas yours and 'twas mine and 'tis ours yet
And it's time to be fencing it now.
poem by Francis Ledwidge
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Polyphemus
Twas a sick young man with a face ungay
And an eye that was all alone;
And he shook his head in a hopeless way
As he sat on a roadside stone.
'O, ailing youth, what untoward fate
Has made the sun to set
On your mirth and eye?' 'I'm constrained to state
I'm an ex-West Point cadet.
''Twas at cannon-practice I got my hurt
And my present frame of mind;
For the gun went off with a double spurt-
Before it, and also behind!'
'How sad, how sad, that a fine young chap,
When studying how to kill,
Should meet with so terrible a mishap
Precluding eventual skill.
'Ah, woful to think that a weapon made
For mowing down the foe
Should commit so dreadful an escapade
As to turn about to mow!'
No more he heeded while I condoled:
He was wandering in his mind;
His lonely eye unconsidered rolled,
And his views he thus defined:
''Twas O for a breach of the peace-'twas O
For an international brawl!
But a piece of the breech-ah no, ah no,
I didn't want that at all.'
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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I Remember That Day In My Life
'twas early morning
when i climbed
the mango tree
and at the top
i sat on the big branch
for a long time
i looked at the
tranquility of the barrio
where i spent
my childhood
i breathed the air
filled my lungs with
so much peace
i did not have anything in mind
except that little escape
from every day's boredom
'twas a day without words.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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'Twas Na Her Bonie Blue E'e
'Twas na her bonie blue e'e was my ruin:
Fair tho' she be, that was ne'er my undoin.
'Twas the dear smile when naebody did mind us.
'Twas the bewitching, sweet, stoun glance o' kindness!
Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me,
Sair do I fear that despair maun abide me;
But tho' fell Fortune should fate us to sever,
Queen shall she be in my bosom for ever.
Chloris, I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest,
And thou hast plighted me love o' the dearest,
And thou'rt the angel that never can alter -
Sooner the sun in his motion would falter!
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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