Opening The Window
THUS I lift the sash, so long
Shut against the flight of song;
All too late for vain excuse,--
Lo, my captive rhymes are loose.
Rhymes that, flitting through my brain,
Beat against my window-pane,
Some with gayly colored wings,
Some, alas! with venomed stings.
Shall they bask in sunny rays?
Shall they feed on sugared praise?
Shall they stick with tangled feet
On the critic's poisoned sheet?
Are the outside winds too rough?
Is the world not wide enough?
Go, my winged verse, and try,--
Go, like Uncle Toby's fly!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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The White Moth
IF a leaf rustled, she would start:
And yet she died, a year ago.
How had so frail a thing the heart
To journey where she trembled so?
And do they turn and turn in fright,
Those little feet, in so much night?
The light above the poet’s head
Streamed on the page and on the cloth,
And twice and thrice there buffeted
On the black pane a white-winged moth:
’T was Annie’s soul that beat outside
And “Open, open, open!” cried:
“I could not find the way to God;
There were too many flaming suns
For signposts, and the fearful road
Led over wastes where millions
Of tangled comets hissed and burned—
I was bewildered and I turned.
“O, it was easy then! I knew
Your window and no star beside.
Look up, and take me back to you!”
—He rose and thrust the window wide.
’T was but because his brain was hot
With rhyming; for he heard her not.
But poets polishing a phrase
Show anger over trivial things;
And as she blundered in the blaze
Towards him, on ecstatic wings,
He raised a hand and smote her dead;
Then wrote “That I had died instead!”
poem by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
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A Rondeau of College Rhymes
Our college rhymes,--how light they seem,
Like little ghosts of love's young dream
That led our boyish hearts away
From lectures and from books, to stray
By flowery mead and flowing stream!
There's nothing here, in form or theme,
Of thought sublime or art supreme:
We would not have the critic weigh
Our college rhymes.
Yet if, perchance, a slender beam
Of feeling's glow or fancy's gleam
Still lingers in the lines we lay
At Alma Mater's feet today,
The touch of Nature may redeem
Our college rhymes.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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The Year
What can be said in New Year rhymes,
That's not been said a thousand times?
The new years come, the old years go,
We know we dream, we dream we know.
We rise up laughing with the light,
We lie down weeping with the night.
We hug the world until it stings,
We curse it then and sigh for wings.
We live, we love, we woo, we wed,
We wreathe our prides, we sheet our dead.
We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,
And that's the burden of a year.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Uncle Salty
Uncle salty told me
Stories of the lonely
Baby, we can only come alive to me
Her man he was lusted
Daddy he was busted
They left her to be trusted
To the orphanage
But when she cried at night
No one cared
And when she cried at night
Went insane
Uncle salty told me
When she was just a baby
That she could buy a mabye
Someday shed see
Soon she found that money
Is love for all the others
The pushers and the shovers
Was the life to me
But when she cried at night
No one cared
And when she cried at night
Went insane
Oh, its a sunny day outside my window
Oh, its a sunny day outside my window
Oh, oh yeah
Oh, oh yeah
Now shes doin many
For money and the penny
Sell her for a penny or two or three
Hers is the cunnin
For men that come a runnin
They all come for fun and it seems to me
That when she cried at night
No one cared
And when she cried at night
Went insane
Oh, its a sunny day outside my window
Oh, its a sunny day outside my window
Oh, its a sunny day outside my window
Oh, its a sunny day outside my window
Oh, its a sunny day outside my window
Oh, its a sunny day outside my window
Oh, its a sunny day outside my window
Oh, its a sunny day outside my window
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Got More Rhymes
[ VERSE 1 ]
Now from planet to planet, and from star to star
It doesn't really matter, baby, just who you are
And from Earth to solar system, and to galaxy
It's real hard to get a ticket to hear Young MC
Because I rock like a professional, this ain't no lark
You either hear me at a party, or you see me in the park
I rocked the many places far away from my home
I guess that must be the reason why I'm so well known
I rocked from Iowa to Idaho, Canada to Mexico
I came into the place, you party people, just to let you know
My name is the Young MC, ladies want to come to me
And when they're in my arms, the ladies never ever front on me
Thinkin that you know the deal, boy, why don't you be for real
I love to rock the mic, and sometimes even rock the wheels of steel
Rock the place without a doubt, now I'm gonna turn it out
So listen very close, so I can tell you that it's all about
RHYMES
More RHYMES
Party people, I'm the Young MC, and I got RHYMES
Let me tell you something
Young MC got more RHYMES
[ VERSE 2 ]
Now with a voice like this I rock so well
But I'm not Prince, Lionel Richie, or Patti Labelle
I'm not the Cars, the Pretenders, or the B-52's
My name is Young MC, and I'm the one you should choose
Cause when the music comes in, the beat starts thumpin
And I'm the only man to keep the girlies high jumpin
I'm the doctor on the mic, and yes, I'm so sure
That all you need is one visit, then you'll be cured
Cause in the game of rap I am the referee
When the others need help, they'll come to me
Like Judge Joe Wapner on the _People's Court_
My name is Young MC, rockin on the mic is my sport
And now you know, just from those 12 lines
That a fella like me never falls behind
Cause I'm the cream of the crop, and the leader of the pack
Once you give me the mic, you know there's no turnin back
Because I got more rhymes then the other guys do
They're just a monkey, I'm the whole damn zoo
I can't use a book, I use a hefty bag
Because they're just a string, I'm the American flag
I got more rhymes than water seen by a sailor
More than husbands of Elizabeth Taylor
More than Babe Ruth has hit home runs
Yo, my name is Young MC, so go out there and have some fun
With RHYMES
More RHYMES
I gotta tell you something
Young MC got RHYMES
Party people, I got more RHYMES
Bust it
[ VERSE 3 ]
RHYMES - what are these things that I talk about?
Hear them in the walkman everytime you wanna walk about
Never lost a battle in which I fought
And if rhyme was a crime, I'd never get caught
I had to go to college, because I am an intellectual
I only sleep with women, cause I am heterosexual
Rock the microphone anyplace, anytime
That's why I had to write a jam and call it Got More Rhymes
Now as a consequence of this
I'd like to make some sense of this
And tell the party people all the reasons that I sent you this
RHYME that I continue to say
School starts in September, graduation in May
And when I graduate RHYMES'll keep comin
Girls try to flock and jock, but stop bummin
Cause I'm the kinda guy that you never wanna toy with
And now you know that I'm talkin about the boy with
RHYMES
More RHYMES
When you say Young MC, you are sayin RHYMES
Party people, Young MC got more RHYMES
Yeah
song performed by by Young MC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rain Keeps Fallin
I remember the night so well.
The rain was fallin but I just couldnt tell,
If it was you that was callin to my love-sick brain.
But the rain kept fallin on my window pane.
Out of the night the thunder rang in my ear.
I cant fight the feelin, lord, that brings forth my fears.
I wish it was over, lord, please stop the rain.
The rain thats fallin on my window pane.
The rain thats fallin on my window pane.
Every night the rains on time, I can feel it in this heart of mine.
But I dont know what to do.
Well, I guess I could go back home, cause you know back home is where I belong.
But it just aint home without you.
And I dont know what to do, baby.
Well, I guess Im a looser but it just dont seem fair.
I lost all my life so tell me, why should I care?
The night that you left me is the night that it came.
And the rains still fallin on my window pane.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
You know the rain.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
I said the rain.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
You know the rain.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
I said the rain.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
You know the rain ...
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
... keeps right on fallin.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
I said, the rain keeps fallin ...
song performed by by Grand Funk Railroad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Bit Clumsy But You'd Like It
i knew one day i'd recognise my wings
i knew the heart would start beating faster
i'd say it in a whisper a night vaguely heard
i'd see you there when first wings wide open
the dance of your moonlight
across my face a beautiful pale
my midnight would your early morning be
but somewhere in the middle of all time
eternal spread will feed all the rhymes
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Fancy`s Wings
How I praise thy sweetness and lovely charms
That ever rose in the ancient rhymes
Never failing and keep up climbs
Thou art blest the mortal breast
Since long that great Homer got to rest
Thy fragrance and frolic
Effect alcoholic
How often you are assumed
In falling dews and in the rising sun
In darkling dawn when all light shun
In glade and grief, we have belief
We art blest from thy lasting relief
Ages gone but mortals` praised never eclipse
Amorous Notes always adorn their lips
O good nature! Let my fancy gets wings strong
To make my rhymes sweet and prolong
poem by Gulsher john
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Rhyme-Smith
Oh, I was born a lyric babe
(That last word is a bore -
It's only rhyme is astrolabe,"
Whose meaning I ignore.)
From cradlehood I lisped in numbers,
Made jingles even in my slumbers.
Said Ma: "He'll be a bard, I know it."
Said Pa: "let's hoe he will outgrow it."
Alas! I never did and so
A dreamer and a drone was I,
Who persevered in want and woe
His misery to versify.
Yea, I was doomed to be a failure
(Old Browning rhymes that last with "pale lure"):
And even starving in the gutter,
My macaronics I would utter.
Then in a poor, cheap book I crammed,
And to the public maw I tossed
My bitter Dirges of the Damned,
My Lyrics of the Lost.
"Let carping critic flay and flout
My Ditties of the Down and Out -
"There now," said I, "I've done with verse,
My love, my weakness and my curse."
Then lo! (As I would fain believe,
Before they crown, the fates would shame us)
I went to sleep one bitter eve,
And woke to find that I was famous. . . .
And so the sunny sequels were a
Gay villa on the Riviera,
A bank account, a limousine, a
Life patterned dolce e divina.
Oh, yes, my lyric flight is flighty;
My muse is much more mite than mighty:
But poetry has been my friend,
And rhyming's saved me in the end.
poem by Robert William Service
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The Beaten Track
Lying in a trance on a rocking chair,
In the living room of my quiet home,
The buzzing sound of a fretful bee,
Woke me up from my pleasant reverie.
Again and again the droning hiss,
Fell faintly in my vacant ear.
It came so close from the window sill,
Fastened tight with glass shutters.
On looking up, I chanced to glance,
A little fly that reeled around,
Trying in vain to find its way,
Through the narrow slit, into the open sky.
For the poor insect trapped inside,
It was all a matter of live or die,
Again and again it beat so hard,
Against the glass window that lay ajar.
I watched lazily its poignant tussle,
To get away or to stay asunder.
Desperate between life and death,
It mustered all its remaining strength.
Try hard and try again,
Was all that what it dared to do,
And every feat converged on -
Getting out through the window pane.
Alas! Across the room, quite close,
Lay open the door, it never did see,
With hurdles none to block its way,
Or hinder it in its forward flight.
Had it taken a different course,
It could dart out into the world it sought,
And spared the strength it burnt in vain,
In the frenzied move to set it free.
By treading through the beaten track,
We might perish like the trapped fly.
For reaching out into wider skies,
We may take as well a different route.
poem by Valsa George
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Rays [Raze]
If this time I wanna gather lots of rays to end my grief
It's because the furrowed foreheads, which the sorrow has bent down,
When the crown of rays surrounds them find a holy quick relief
And forget the howl of passion coming from the crazy town.
Now, for me, the distant heavens can no more obscure the light,
I exchange my worldly kingdom for my kingdom in the sky,
To the day that's everlasting with my wings I soar in flight,
So the fate may crush me harshly with its heel and let me die.
I'll get dressed this time in bright rays, so my garb will be refined,
I have played my part in earnest in this world which is so wide
If I leave behind my body I do this to lift my mind
And I'm sure will understand me only those who grieved and sighed.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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Aedh gives his Beloved certain Rhymes
Fasten your hair with a golden pin,
And bind up every wandering tress;
I bade my heart build these poor rhymes:
It worked at them, day out, day in,
Building a sorrowful loveliness
Out of the battles of old times.
You need but lift a pearl-pale hand,
And bind up your long hair and sigh;
And all men's hearts must burn and beat;
And candle-like foam on the dim sand,
And stars climbing the dew-dropping sky,
Live but to light your passing feet.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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He Gives His Beloved Certain Rhymes
FASTEN your hair with a golden pin,
And bind up every wandering tress;
I bade my heart build these poor rhymes:
It worked at them, day out, day in,
Building a sorrowful loveliness
Out of the battles of old times.
You need but lift a pearl-pale hand,
And bind up your long hair and sigh;
And all men's hearts must burn and beat;
And candle-like foam on the dim sand,
And stars climbing the dew-dropping sky,
Live but to light your passing feet.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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The Good, Old-Fashioned People
When we hear Uncle Sidney tell
About the long-ago
An' old, old friends he loved so well
When _he_ was young--My-oh!--
Us childern all wish _we'd 'a'_ bin
A-livin' then with Uncle,--so
We could a-kindo' happened in
On them old friends he used to know!--
The good, old-fashioned people--
The hale, hard-working people--
The kindly country people
'At Uncle used to know!
They was God's people, Uncle says,
An' gloried in His name,
An' worked, without no selfishness,
An' loved their neighbers same
As they was kin: An' when they biled
Their tree-molasses, in the Spring,
Er butchered in the Fall, they smiled
An' sheered with all jist ever'thing!--
The good, old-fashioned people--
The hale, hard-working people--
The kindly country people
'At Uncle used to know!
He tells about 'em, lots o' times,
Till we'd all ruther hear
About 'em than the Nurs'ry Rhymes
Er Fairies--mighty near!--
Only sometimes he stops so long
An' then talks on so low an' slow,
It's purt'-nigh sad as any song
To listen to him talkin' so
Of the good, old-fashioned people--
The hale, hard-working people--
The kindly country people
'At Uncle used to know!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Ancient Angel Ii
Just as i suspected
This dim-layer that suddenly brightened-bright
Inspecting the night
Advertising stars in such a mid-day
Dozing as if descending
With wisp watching whispers
Whispering the wings of their clippers
Drew a bridge of white sings
A thunder stroke
And visiting was the pallars of rain
Running these races of angel brain
The visit was to earth
Seeking the men of earth
The dim-night clouding the ground
Was overshadowed by rhymes
These rhymes rusting
Born of acrostic
Tortured the sky sounding
O my greatest surprise
They were singing
poem by Ebi Robert
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Dedication To Providence
I loved to toy with tuneful rhyme,
My fancies into verse to weave;
For as I walked my words would chime
So bell-like I could scarce believe;
My rhymes rippled like a brook,
My stanzas bloomed like blossoms gay:
And that is why I dream this book
A verseman's holiday.
The palm-blades brindle in the blaze
Of sunsets splendouring the sea;
The Gloaming is a lilac haze
That impish stars stab eagerly. . . .
O Land of Song! Oh golden clime!
O happy me, whose work is play!
Please take this tribute of my rhymes:
A verseman's holiday.
poem by Robert William Service
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An Imitation of Spenser
Golden Apollo, that thro' heaven wide
Scatter'st the rays of light, and truth's beams,
In lucent words my darkling verses dight,
And wash my earthy mind in thy clear streams,
That wisdom may descend in fairy dreams,
All while the jocund hours in thy train
Scatter their fancies at thy poet's feet;
And when thou yields to night thy wide domain,
Let rays of truth enlight his sleeping brain.
For brutish Pan in vain might thee assay
With tinkling sounds to dash thy nervous verse,
Sound without sense; yet in his rude affray,
(For ignorance is Folly's leasing nurse
And love of Folly needs none other's curse)
Midas the praise hath gain'd of lengthen'd ears,
For which himself might deem him ne'er the worse
To sit in council with his modern peers,
And judge of tinkling rimes and elegances terse.
And thou, Mercurius, that with wingèd brow
Dost mount aloft into the yielding sky,
And thro' Heav'n's halls thy airy flight dost throw,
Entering with holy feet to where on high
Jove weighs the counsel of futurity;
Then, laden with eternal fate, dost go
Down, like a falling star, from autumn sky,
And o'er the surface of the silent deep dost fly:
If thou arrivest at the sandy shore
Where nought but envious hissing adders dwell,
Thy golden rod, thrown on t 1000 he dusty floor,
Can charm to harmony with potent spell.
Such is sweet Eloquence, that does dispel
Envy and Hate that thirst for human gore;
And cause in sweet society to dwell
Vile savage minds that lurk in lonely cell
O Mercury, assist my lab'ring sense
That round the circle of the world would fly,
As the wing'd eagle scorns the tow'ry fence
Of Alpine hills round his high aëry,
And searches thro' the corners of the sky,
Sports in the clouds to hear the thunder's sound,
And see the wingèd lightnings as they fly;
Then, bosom'd in an amber cloud, around
Plumes his wide wings, and seeks Sol's palace high.
And thou, O warrior maid invincible,
Arm'd with the terrors of Almighty Jove,
Pallas, Minerva, maiden terrible,
Lov'st thou to walk the peaceful solemn grove,
In solemn gloom of branches interwove?
Or bear'st thy AEgis o'er the burning field,
Where, like the sea, the waves of battle move?
Or have thy soft piteous eyes beheld
The weary wanderer thro' the desert rove?
Or does th' afflicted man thy heav'nly bosom move?
poem by William Blake
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Parakeet
You wake up in the morning
And fall out of your bed
Mean cats eat parakeets
And this ones nearly dead
You dearly wish the wind would shift
And greasy windows slide
Open for the parakeet
Whos colored bitter lime
Open the window
And lift into your dreams
Lately baby
You can barely breathe
A broken wrist
An accident
You know that somethings wrong
You fold the leavings of your past
No one knows youve gone
The sunspot flares of the early
Nineties light up your wings
And scan the shortwave radio
Its tracking outer rings
The tectonic dispatcher shifts
To smooth the ocean floor
And flattens out to warmer winds
Of brisbanes sunny shore
Where buddhas tend to mending wrists
A tea made from the leaves
Of eucalyptus fragrances
And coriander seeds
You wake up in the morning
To warm pacific breeze
Where mean cats chew on licorice
And cannot climb the trees
Open your window
And lift into a dream
Baby baby
Baby starts to breathe
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet VI: How Many Paltry Things
How many paltry, foolish, painted things,
That now is coaches trouble every street,
Shall be forgotten, whom no Poet sings,
Ere they be well wrapt in their winding-sheet.
Where I to thee eternity shall give,
When nothing else remaineth of these days,
And Queens hereafter shall be glad to live
Upon the alms of thy superfluous praise.
Virgins and matrons, reading these my rhymes,
Shall be so much delighted with thy story
That they shall grieve they liv'd not in these times,
To have seen thee, their sex's only glory.
So shalt thou fly above the vulgar throng,
Still to survive in my immortal song.
poem by Michael Drayton
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PRETTY'S NO EXCUSE...by Talile Ali
SEEN ALL KINDS OF UGLINESS DONE BY FOLKS THESE DAYS
JUST CAUSE THEY'RE PRETTY THEY SEEM TO THINK IT'S OK
TO RUN AROUND WRECKLESSLY AND DESTROY WHAT THEY MAY
FOR SOME REASON NO ONE WILL PUT THEM IN THEIR PLACE
THEY LET THEM RUN AROUND AND RUIN THE SPACE
BEING PRETTY IS THEIR LICENCE TO DEFACE
PRETTY IS NO EXCUSE
FOR PERPETUATING SELF-SERVING ABUSE
RAGING BULL ON THE LOOSE
PRETTY IS NO
PRETTY IS NO EXCUSE
WHEN AN ARGUEMENT COMES WALKIN THRU THAT FRONT DOOR
PRETTY WILL BE USED TO SHUT IT DOWN AND WHATS MORE
IT NEVER GIVES A DAMN OR WHAT THE HELL FOR
SAD TRUTH ABOUT IT IS THAT WE ALL PLAY
AROUND WITH PRETTY HOPING TO BE RUBBED RIGHT THAT DAY
BUT PRETTY ALWAYS HAS IT DONE JUST ONE WAY-ITS WAY
PRETTY IS NO EXCUSE
FOR PERPETUATING SELF-SERVING ABUSE
RAGING BULL ON THE LOOSE
PRETTY IS NO
PRETTY IS NO EXCUSE
SO IF YOU FIND YOUR SELF BEING DRAWN UPON SOME DAY
BY SOMEONE PRETTY, THEN IT'S BEST YOU RUN AWAY
CAUSE IF YOU DON'T YOU WILL BE CHEWED UP AND THROWN AWAY
AS YOU WATCH YOUR WORLD SPIN OUT OF CONTROL
YOU REALIZE HOW MUCH A FOOL YOU'VE BEEN SHOWED
YOUR IMAGE CORRUPTED AS IT APPEARS WHEN IT SO WITH
PRETTY PEOPLE
PRETTY IS NO EXCUSE
FOR PERPETUATING SELF-SERVING ABUSE
RAGING BULL ON THE LOOSE
PRETTY IS NO
PRETTY IS NO EXCUSE
poem by Talile Ali
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