The Hill by Rupert Brooke

May 14, 2012 § Leave a comment

Breathless, we flung us on the windy hill,
   Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.
   You said, “Through glory and ecstasy we pass;
Wind, sun, and earth remain, the birds sing still,
When we are old, are old… .” “And when we die
   All’s over that is ours; and life burns on
Through other lovers, other lips,” said I,
—-“Heart of my heart, our heaven is now, is won!”

“We are Earth’s best, that learnt her lesson here.
   Life is our cry. We have kept the faith!” we said;
   ”We shall go down with unreluctant tread
Rose-crowned into the darkness!” … Proud we were,
And laughed, that had such brave true things to say.
—-And then you suddenly cried, and turned away.


100 words

December 20, 2011 § 2 Comments

Neil Gaiman is one of my favorite authors. And did you know that he writes such beautiful poems as well? When I read this one, I knew I wanted to look at it every day. So I ordered this as a little birthday present to myself from Neverwear
100 Words by neverwear and it’s a signed print 😀 😀 😀 (Can’t wait for it to arrive)
Have a read yourself –

100 Words by Neil Gaiman

A hundred words to talk of death?
At once too much and not enough.
My plans beyond that final breath
are currently a little rough.

The dying thing comes on so slow:
reluctance to get out of bed
is magnified each day and so
transmuted into dead.

I dream of dying all alone,
nobody there to watch me pass
nothing remains for me to own,
no breath remains to fog the glass.

And when I do put down my pen
my memories will fly like birds.
When I am done, when I am dead,
and finished with my hundred words.

Boast of Quietness by Jorge Luis Borges

March 26, 2008 § Leave a comment

Writings of light assault the darkness, more prodigious than meteors.
The tall unknowable city takes over the countryside.
Sure of my life and death, I observe the ambitious and would like to
understand them.
Their day is greedy as a lariat in the air.
Their night is a rest from the rage within steel, quick to attack.
They speak of humanity.
My humanity is in feeling we are all voices of that same poverty.
They speak of homeland.
My homeland is the rhythm of a guitar, a few portraits, an old sword,
the willow grove’s visible prayer as evening falls.
Time is living me.
More silent than my shadow, I pass through the loftily covetous multitude.
They are indispensable, singular, worthy of tomorrow.
My name is someone and anyone.
I walk slowly, like one who comes from so far away he doesn’t expect to arrive

My Dream..

March 26, 2008 § Leave a comment

Look out from the window
that’s my dream which is flying
that’s my dream leaving me
leaving me all alone
leaving me in this box

Open up the window
for I need to catch my dream
I need my dream to carry on
to look forward to another day

Let me go
I need to stop my dream from running away
I need to tell me dream that I still care
I still need it to be where I want to go

Look at the clouds
They took my dream in their arms
They are taking it to a new place
to a new city and new people

That was my dream which left me
But now it belongs to another little girl
She is cherishing it like I did
I hope this time it won’t run away
and stay with her forever…

Where Am I?

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