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A Minor Bird,  by Robert Frost

I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;

Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more.

The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key.

And of course there must be something wrong
In wanting to silence any song.

 

 

                         (¯`v´¯)

                                 `*.¸.*´
                                  ¸.•´¸.•*¨) ¸.•*¨)

                                             •´ (¸.•´ .•´ ¸¸.•¨¯`•

 

 

 

For you:

The blueprint was finished,
a simple door, one room.
Maybe a window.

Johnny and Doug, my friends,
craftsmen and ready to  build
and the materials
have been ordered.

We look to the sky
for delivery.

Snowforts can be fun ... with snow of course ...

 

by Blackpooljimmy

 

 

 

 

Up For Grabs

 

come and get your blending of whispering's
spread out over the morning of day dreams
when an earth remembered its swiveling's
balancing itself between a moon's moods

we are no more or less than human frailty
alive with remorse or absentminded gaiety
winking at danger or delving into insanity
never as deep as an ocean light in brevity

come the world awaits your special place
where embarrassment or joy is no disgrace
as want for meeting up with a friendly face
and comfort of finery is trimmed with lace

these things of life that demand so much
as love and hate indenture us with touch

 

 

by Michael Thomas

 

 

 

 

  ¸.•´¸.•*¨) ¸.•*¨) •´ (¸.•´ .•´ ¸¸.•¨¯`•

 

 

 

 

 

 

      ¸.•´¸.•*¨) ¸.•*¨) •´ (¸.•´ .•´ ¸¸.•¨¯`•

 

 

 

 

 

                             

  

 

 

 ¸.•´¸.•*¨) ¸.•*¨) •´ (¸.•´ .•´ ¸¸.•¨¯`•

 

 

 

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