O the mother’s joys!
The watching, the endurance, the precious love,
the anguish, the patiently yielded life.
O the joy of increase, growth, recuperation;
The joy of soothing and pacifying
the joy of concord and harmony.
O to go back to the place where I was born!
To hear the birds sing once more!
To ramble about the house and barn,
and over the fields, once more,
And through the orchard and along the old lanes once more.
O the engineer’s joys!
To go with a locomotive!
To hear the hiss of steam—the merry shriek—the steam-whistle—the laughing
To push with resistless way, and speed off in the distance.
O the gleesome saunter over fields and hill-sides!
The leaves and flowers of the commonest weeds—the moist fresh stillness of the woods,
The exquisite smell of the earth at day-break, and all through the forenoon.
O the horseman’s and horsewoman’s joys!
The saddle—the gallop—the pressure upon the seat—the cool gurgling by the
O to make the most jubilant poem!
Even to set off these, and merge with these, the carols of Death.
O full of music! full of manhood, womanhood, infancy!
Full of common employments! full of grain and trees.
O for the voices of animals! O for the swiftness and balance of fishes!
O for the dropping of rain-drops in a poem!
O for the sunshine, and motion of waves in a poem.
O the joy of my spirit! it is uncaged! it darts like lightning!
It is not enough to have this globe, or a certain time;
When you wear a cloudy collar and a shirt that isn’t white,
And you cannot sleep for thinking how you’ll reach to-morrow night,
You may be a man of sorrows, and on speaking terms with Care,
And as yet be unacquainted with the Demon of Despair;
For I rather think that nothing heaps the trouble on your mind
Like the knowledge that your trousers badly need a patch behind.
I have noticed when misfortune strikes the hero of the play,
That his clothes are worn and tattered in a most unlikely way;
And the gods applaud and cheer him while he whines and loafs around,
And they never seem to notice that his pants are mostly sound;
But, of course, he cannot help it, for our mirth would mock his care,
If the ceiling of his trousers showed the patches of repair.
When I pass… I’ll be young and looking my best. Wrap me in silk shrouds And place shiny pearls On my chest. Sent me above to the clouds Into the alluring after world. Everyone will remember me, That’s immortality. Everyone will love me when I’m gone. They will say I was wise, skilled and strong-willed […]
Some people say it’s selfish. Some say it’s stupid. Everyone says its a permanent solution, to a temporary problem. I’ve heard all the reasons, I’ve heard all the pleads. But tonight is the night Suicide shall end my life. (Poem by Sammi Haley) […]
I came to visit, did you see? I left a note for you, did you see? I miss you, I miss you, Three words that matter so little. Sometimes, I need you now. I polished it, again and again, Until the marble glowed. For the briefest second, I could’ve sworn I felt you presence. “I […]
Groody blew spices, it sounded like jazz in the south but that was a long time ago. When he kicked the bucket all the neighborhood kids hushed outside, thinking he would come back and play if they were quiet. The folks who danced to his sound, when he played in town never went back there […]