Powered all by dearth of wounds
the hearth grows coals glowed ember.
Disparate paths from childhood's leave
like leaves fall each November.
Man steps out one to make two
even Adolf marries you know who.
Veiled in threat we seek the joy
that in children is but a rightful toy.
Nurture nature and repel all borders
spoonfuls of chaos with ancient orders.
Growing so old riding tools well drilled
though some don't work quite as billed.
Yesterday, tomorrow, today, mixed and fertile
prompting reaction from your own personal reptile.
Whistling a tune learned at age two
tis a simple melody well fitted to you.
And me and them and all you meet
the whistling is the same, just you change seat.
How does that wisdom deal and dole out the day?
How does mind window what you may say?
How does your lizard walk you on your way?
How do your hopes meet your needs when you pray?
Is love the stitching and binding you fear?
If that it is then behoove bring it near.
Time grows mature and the statutes are fading
fears tools and wisdoms just so much braiding.
Slanting sun in a western sky
distant herding buffalo inching by.
Don't say farewell
without learning this verse.
Don't doubt your life
start now, don't rehearse...
David Jackman, yawning, stretching, and waking up
Tis just my thinking
By Samuel Taylor Coleridge
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round;
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:
And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean;
And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight ’twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise