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Today's anniversary: Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou

Conceit

Give me your hand

Make room for me
to lead and follow
you
beyond this rage of poetry.

Let others have
the privacy of
touching words
and love of loss
of love.

For me
Give me your hand.

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Topic of the Day: dogs

4 April 1873: the Kennel Club is founded, the oldest and first official registry of purebred dogs in the

Puppy In A Cup

Have a cup of puppy,
Puppy in a cup.
Brown and slightly sugary,
Puppy in a cup.
Warm, soft and cuddly,
Puppy in a cup.
Don't drink the puppy, silly,
Just pick the puppy up!

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About poetry

There is no good poetry and bad poetry, it's just a matter of perception: some lines match more minds and souls, others less.

in The Shadow of the Sea (Umbra mării) (2011)Report problemRelated quotes
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Poems

Charles Kingsley

The Old, Old Song

When all the world is young, lad,
And all the trees are green;
And every goose a swan, lad,
And every lass a queen—
Then hey for boot and horse lad,
And round the world away;
Young blood must have its course, lad,
And every dog his day.

When all the world is old, lad,
And all the trees are brown;
And all the sport is stale, lad,
And all the wheels run down—
Creep home, and take your place there,
The spent and manned among;
God grant you find one face there
You loved when all was young.

poem by from The Water Babies, Chapter 2 (1863)Report problemRelated quotes
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In War

Hearing the terrors of the war, sore troubled,
By each new victim of the combat torn--
Nor friend, nor wife I give my utmost pity,
Nor do I for the fallen hero mourn.
Alas! the wife will find a consolation.
The friend by friend is soon forgot in turn.

But somewhere is the one soul that remembers--
That will remember unto death's dark shore,
Nor can the tears of a heart-stricken mother
Forget the sons gone down on fields of gore.
One soul there is that like the weeping willow
Can never raise its drooping branches more.

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Long-felt desires

Long-felt desires, hopes as long as vain -
sad sighs - slow tears accustomed to run sad
into as many rivers as two eyes could add,
pouring like fountains, endless as the rain -

cruelty beyond humanity, a pain
so hard it makes compassionate stars go mad
with pity: these are the first passions I've had.
Do you think love could root in my soul again?

If it arched the great bow back again at me,
licked me again with fire, and stabbed me deep
with the violent worst, as awful as before,

the wounds that cut me everwhere would keep
me shielded, so there would be no place free
for love. It covers me. It can pierce no more.

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