A Marriage – Carolyn Brunelle

In some force of nature
He reaches for her
Time and time again.
And time after time
She soothes his fevered brow,
Calms and strokes the fury in him.
A marriage of sea and shore
Embracing only one another;
And yearning for nothing more
They thrash and crash about.
The going has always been rough but
They cling to their life in one another;
Knowing separately each would die there.
But together, their dance continues
Painting a mesmorizing beauty;
Timeless and enduring
Through sunshine as well as storm.

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A Marriage – Robert Creeley

The first retainer
he gave to her
was a golden
wedding ring.

The second–late at night
we woke up,
leaned over on an elbow,
and kissed her.

The third and the last–
he died with
and gave up loving
and lived with her.

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Marriage & Love – Santhosh Vijayakumar

Love spoke to marriage,
“It is I who come first.”
For which marriage replied,
“It is for me you come.”
Arguments arose and words clashed.
Both who were one with another,
Split away and, the result,
No love ended in marriage,
And all marriages broke.
At last, He the Maker spoke,
“Love, you are My happening.
Marriage, you are My new beginning.
Without the other you shan’t survive.”
And then on, they walked hand-in hand.

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Marriage Bells – Emma Lazarus

Music and silver chimes and sunlit air,
Freighted with the scent of honeyed orange-flower;
Glad, friendly festal faces everywhere.
She, rapt from all in this unearthly hour,
With cloudlike, cast-back veil and faint-flushed cheek,
In bridal beauty moves as in a trance
Alone with him, and fears to breathe, to speak,
Lest the rare, subtle spell dissolve perchance.
But he upon that floral head looks down,
Noting the misty eyes, the grave sweet brow–
Doubts if her bliss be perfect as his own,
And dedicates anew with inward vow
His soul unto her service, to repay
Richly the sacrifice she yields this day.

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Marriage – Khalil Gibran

Then Almitra spoke again and said, ‘And what of Marriage, master?’

And he answered saying:

You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.

You shall be together when white wings of death scatter your days.

Aye, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.

But let there be spaces in your togetherness,

And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

Love one another but make not a bond of love:

Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup.

Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.

Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,

Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.

For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.

And stand together, yet not too near together:

For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.

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Migrated Culture – Nassy Fesharaki

In me there is something like blood
I brought in my heart after the flood
Next visit I searched, was not found
Sample of what I know deepen fond
Was removed and buried under mud
In me but it remains forever, is alive
The changes in old way, not in mind
Old is fresh till I live, in bones, heart.

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Pop And Culture – Lawrence S. Pertillar

Peeps peep on pop and culture.
People peep on pop and culture.
There’s a peep on pop and culture,
With not a poop to stop.

They peep on pop and culture.
People peep on pop and culture.
There is a peep on pop and culture,
Without a poop to stop.

Lady Gaga got that pop.
People peep on pop and culture.
Taylor Swift’s got Country Rock.
People peep on pop and culture.
And Kanye’s a social poppa.
People peep on pop and culture.
With Beyonce and Jay-Z,
Seen on top in magazines.

Peeps peep on pop and culture.
People peep on pop and culture.
There’s a peep on pop and culture,
With no poop to stop.

Peeps peep on pop and culture.
People peep on pop and culture.
There’s a peep on pop and culture,
With no poop to stop.

We feed on Beatles.
Those songs of Beatles.
We feed on Beatles.
And…
Prince is there with beats.
And Michael Jackson’s Pop is sweet.

We feed on Beatles.
Those songs of Beatles.
We feed on Beatles.
And Lady Gaga just rocks.

We feed on Beatles.
And they introduced this culture shock.

Peeps peep on pop and culture.
People peep on pop and culture.
There’s a peep on pop and culture,
With not a poop to stop.

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Sin Culture – Hasmukh Amathalal

Have no doubt
When we talk about
Death is certain
We want it to come without pain

Each soul has to depart
As we are part
Of the divine theory
And put in motion already

Whether you like it or not
The solution has to be sought
The life is to be spent in orderly manner
Not to side with evil or sin culture

You shall have choice
When raise voice
About your past and present
You acted as messenger sent from above

Such belief makes you carefree
You have no reason to worry
As each passenger has to get down
When the destination is already known

The death may knock
In the early morning when warned by cock
As raising alarm over the appearance of death God
To take you away and free from load

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Culture Flowers – Lonnie Hicks

We’re all lashed
to Cultural Helms
besodden
ingrained eyes
narrowed to squinty plane
seeing;
not seeing
only mine;
and not mine
blind.

Culture is the Gardener’s Death
who’s kind to only one flower;
other’s bloom in the garden darkened
by blindness over-powered.

Strain some may
against the mast
yet they most times
cultivate only their own gardens;
time and the past
cause other flowers
to bloom and wither
before our very countenance.

Tempted we may be
by soul’s desire
to look beyond the garden walls:
But few cannot,
but lift the spade
and plow the same furrows,
which etch our brow
contain our lives
until our death
we having known
only one garden flower:
grown beautifully
in straight
and narrow furrows.

A few sometimes
smell other blooms
thereby open up
genius
which is
simply
being willing
to sip and know
Not Like We-Ness.

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Art And Culture – Edward Kofi Louis

Art and culture,
Going my own way;
With my imagination,
With my style,
With my innovation,
With my works,
With my words,
With my mind,
Respecting my culture!
And, touching the world with my muse.
Art and culture!
The mus eof life;
With the ways of nature,
Resting on mankind,
In every land.
My imgination!
My nation;
The place of my birth,
With my works to the world.

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The First Kiss – Norman Rowland Gale

On Helen’s heart the day were night!
But I may not adventure there:
Here breast is guarded by a right,
And she is true as fair.

And though in happy days her eyes
The glow within mine own could please,
She’s purer than the babe who cries
For empire on her knees.

Her love is for her lord and child,
And unto them belongs her snow;
But none can rob me of her wild
Young kiss of long ago!

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No Money – Ashley Jensen

no money to do anything with
its hard enough to get by
with out some riche kid walking by
they flant their three credit cards in your face
plus their 2005 mitibushi eclipse
yet they complain that they have no money
but yet their dad has another car for them
it all makes no sense when we people must
suffer and yet survive with little money but
the other half lives in riches
if some one is in help they will not help unless it
is there friend who actually doesnt need help
but for them who really cares
no money for us only those who can afford it but
no one notices us because we try to blend in anyway

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Christmas – Abigaile Housemans

christmas list
and christmas wish
all apart of the christmas theme
without any of it its like there is no meaning
but im here to tell
im here to yell
that christmas is not all about you
christmas she get you in the spirit for what you need to do
help the poor
help the needy
help the ones that dont get this or that
help the ones that have that and this
christmas is not all about you
if i need to yell or scream
to tell you what christmas means
i will
i promise
because christmas is not all about me
its not all about you
just what you need to do

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Sad This Christmas – Donna Nimmo

Christmas time is getting near
I don’t have much Christmas cheer
Pain from the past much on my mind
To all my loved ones, I’ll be kind
Thinking about those, I lost in the past
Wanting this to be over, pretty fast
Don’t want to shop or go to the store
For me this year a real sad chore
I don’t even want to put up a tree
But I can’t think about only me
I’ll have to wear a mask this year
And hope I don’t shed a single tear
My family needs to think I’m happy
I’ll hide my feeling’s, feeling crappie
Merry Christmas to all of you
And I will smile, as if on cue!

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Poem – An Inscription

Go little book,
To him who, on a lute with horns of pearl,
Sang of the white feet of the Golden Girl:
And bid him look
Into thy pages: it may hap that he
May find that golden maidens dance through thee.

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Poem – To Milton

MILTON! I think thy spirit hath passed away
From these white cliffs, and high-embattled towers;
This gorgeous fiery-coloured world of ours
Seems fallen into ashes dull and grey,
And the age changed unto a mimic play
Wherein we waste our else too-crowded hours:
For all our pomp and pageantry and powers
We are but fit to delve the common clay,
Seeing this little isle on which we stand,
This England, this sea-lion of the sea,
By ignorant demagogues is held in fee,
Who love her not: Dear God! is this the land
Which bare a triple empire in her hand
When Cromwell spake the word Democracy!

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Poem – To Govern

To govern simply by statute and to maintain order by means of penalties is to
render the people evasive and devoid of a sense of shame.

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Poem – The Master Said

The Master said,
‘It is by the Odes that the mind is aroused.’
It is by the Rules of Propriety that the character is established.
‘It is from Music that the finish is received.’
The Master said,
‘The people may be made to follow a path of action,
but they may not be made to understand it.

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Poem – Lament For Three Brothers

They flit about, the yellow birds,
And rest upon the jujubes find.
Who buried were in duke Muh’s grave,
Alive to awful death consigned?

‘Mong brothers three, who met that fate,
‘Twas sad the first, Yen-seih to see.
He stood alone; a hundred men
Could show no other such as he.
When to the yawning grave he came,
Terror unnerved and shook his frame.

Why thus destroy our noblest men,
To thee we cry, O azure Heaven!
To save Yen-seih from death, we would
A hundred lives have freely given.

They flit about, the yellow birds,
And on the mulberry-trees rest find.
Who buried were in duke Muh’s grave,
Alive to awful death consigned?

‘Mong brothers three, who met that fate,
‘Twas sad the next, Chung-hang to see.
When on him pressed a hundred men,
A match for all of them was he.
When to the yawning grave he came,
Terror unnerved and shook his frame.

Why thus destroy our noblest men,
To thee we cry, O azure Heaven!
To save Chung-hang from death, we would
A hundred lives have freely given.

They flit about, the yellow birds,
And rest upon the thorn-trees find.
Who buried were in duke Muh’s grave,
Alive to awful death consigned?

‘Mong brothers three, who met that fate,
‘Twas sad the third, K’een-foo, to see.
A hundred men in desperate fight
Successfully withstand could he.
When to the yawning grave he came,
Terror unnerved and shook his frame.

Why thus destroy our noblest men,
To thee we cry, O azure Heaven!
To save K’een-foo from death, we would
A hundred lives have freely given.

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Poem – The Generous Nephew

I escorted my uncle to Tsin,
Till the Wei we crossed on the way.
Then I gave as I left
For his carriage a gift
Four steeds, and each steed was a bay.

I escorted my uncle to Tsin,
And I thought of him much in my heart.
Pendent stones, and with them
Of fine jasper a gem,
I gave, and then saw him depart.

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Poem – A Festal Ode

With sounds of happiness the deer
Browse on the celery of the meads.
A nobler feast is furnished here,
With guests renowned for noble deeds.
The lutes are struck; the organ blows,
Till all its tongues in movement heave.
Each basket loaded stands, and shows
The precious gifts the guests receive.
They love me and my mind will teach,
How duty’s highest aim to reach.

With sounds of happiness the deer
The southern-wood crop in the meads,
What noble guests surround me here,
Distinguished for their worthy deeds!
From them my people learn to fly
Whate’er is mean; to chiefs they give
A model and a pattern high;–
They show the life they ought to live.
Then fill their cups with spirits rare,
Till each the banquet’s joy shall share.

With sounds of happiness the deer
The salsola crop in the fields.
What noble guests surround me here!
Each lute for them its music yields.
Sound, sound the lutes, or great or small.
The joy harmonious to prolong;–

And with my spirits rich crown all
The cups to cheer the festive throng.
Let each retire with gladdened heart,
In his own sphere to play his part.

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Beauty In Nature – Arti Chopra

Theres a poem in every flower,
a sonnet in every tree,
a tale in every lifetime
its just for you to see…

theres a lyric in every brook
as it rushes over rocks,
theres an ode in every nuance,
as loves wonder unlocks,

theres rhythm in every sound,
every beating of a heart,
theres poetry in every union
and every couple who are apart

and just as there is wonder
in every new life created
there is sadness and regret,
for the unsaid and unfeted

just listen for the music
that your ears cannot hear,
just strain yourself for the melody
thats so far and yet so near

the wonder of the creator,
the magic of the divine
is there to feel, for all of us,
to soon be yours and mine

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Nature – Eva Chopra

I always thought,
What is there in the nature?
Why everyone wants to be in the nature’s lap?
Where is the end of this nature?
Who has made this nature?
When will it destroy?

So one day,
To find solution to these 5 w’s
Went away from pollution,
And found a place,
Behind a
Beautiful, huge, leafy
Tree
I spend just 15 minutes
In the green glory
And instead of having my answers with me,
My questions took a new meaning.

Now I thought,
What is not there in this nature?
Why some people doesn’t want to sit in the nature’s lap?
Why one wants to end this nature?
Who is destroying this nature?
Why will it destroy?

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गजल : कहिले शुन्य, कहिले हजारमा

कहिले शुन्यमा कहिले हजारमा हुन्छु
कहिले गाँउमा कहिले बजारमा हुन्छु

खै मान्छेहरु मलाई यति महत्व दिन्छन्
कहिले किनारमा कहिले मझधारमा हुन्छु

कोही खाली हात कोही बिस्तरा बनाउँछन्
कहिले निराशामा कहिले उपहारमा हुन्छु

 

न रिसाउँछन् मसँग न माया गर्न सक्छन
कहिले आक्रोशमा कहिले स्विकारमा हुन्छु

म कसैको होईन तर सबै आफ्नो ठान्छन
कहिले बिछोडमा कहिले प्यारमा हुन्छु ।।

Source:https://www.onlinekhabar.com/2014/07/172914

 

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Nature – Kerri King

Nature is beautiful
nature is fun
love it or hate it
nature is something to love
nature is god’s gift to us
Nature

Nature we love
wate and feed nature
Nature water’s and feed’s us
god gave us nature
we cant live with out it
nature makes us

i know nature
Nature is beautiful
Nature is about the earth
nature has flower; s and weed’s
weed’s or flower’s nature is us
NATURE

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गजल – मन दुख्दै छ सरकार

मन दुख्दै छ सरकार नजर होस्
आँशु मात्र छ उपहार नजर होस्

 

हामी लडिराछौं हजुरको ईशारामा
किन हुँदैन जितहार नजर होस्

के अपराध भयो हामीबाट मालिक
लुटिन्छ खुसी बारबार नजर होस्

आउँछन् घाउ हेर्छन् अनि जान्छन्
कोही गर्दैन उपचार नजर होस्

तैयार हामी भएकै हो ज्यान दिन
लुटियो आज घरबार नजर होस् ।।

 

Source: https://www.onlinekhabar.com/2014/07/174310

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The Home Of Peace – Charles Harpur

Trust and treachery, wisdom, folly,
Madness, mirth and melancholy,
Love and hatred, thrift and pillage,
All are housed in every village.
And in such a world’s mixed being,
Where may peace, from ruin fleeing,
Find fit shelter and inherit
All the calm of her own merit?

In a bark of gentle motion
Sailing on the summer ocean?
There worst war the tempest wages,
And the hungry whirlpool rages.

In some lonely new-world bower
Hidden like a forest flower?
There, too, there, to fray the stranger
Stalks the wild-eyed savage, danger!

In some Alpine cot, by fountains
Flowing from snow-shining mountains?
There the avalanches thunder,
Crushing all that lieth under!

In some hermit-tent, pitched lowly
Mid the tombs of prophets holy?
There to harry and annoy her
Roams the infidel destroyer.

In palatial chambers gilded,
Guarded round with towers high-builded?
Change may enter these to-morrow,
And with change may enter sorrow.

Find, O peace, thy home of beauty
In the steadfast heart of duty,
Dwelling ever there, and seeing
God through every phase of being

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Kavita : Sarpako Khojima

काठमाडौँ
अझ भनौँ
यो सिङ्गै देश नै
दिन पर दिन
कालो–नीलो हुँदै गैरहेको छ
सर्पदंशित मान्छेझैँ

म सर्पको खोजीमा छु
हो, म ती विषालु सर्पहरूको खोजीमा
धेरै अघिदेखि हिँडिरेहछु
असन पसेर जसले
नुन–चामलका बोरा
र तेलका टिनलाई डसे
बजार घुमेर मोटा कपडा
र इँटा सिमेन्ट–सिमेन्ट–छड र कर्कटपातालाई डसे
स्लाइनको नली भएर थुपै्र बिरामीलाई
बालबालिकाका दूधका डब्बालाई डसे
विद्यालय पसेर देशका भविष्यलाई डसे
हाकिमको कलमको निब भएर असंख्य कर्मचारीलाई डसे
मलाई खोजी छ
हो, मलाई खोजी छ
ती काला विषालु सर्पहरूको
एक युग वित्यो
म हातमा लौरो बोकी
गल्ली गल्ली
चोक चोक
वन जङ्गल
र बाटाघाटामा ती सर्पको खोजीमा हिँडेको
तर सर्पका साटामा मैले बरु
गल्ली, चोक, वन, जङगल र बाटाघाटाहरू पो दंशित पाएँ
अब म बढी सतर्कताको साथ खोज्दैछु
पछ्याउँदैछु
ती छदमभेषी सर्प
जसले सभ्य रूपमा सभ्यतालाई र
पुजारी भई देवतालाई डसे
मलाई खोजी छ
जसले भिडियो भित्र पसी
नीला सर्प भई हाम्रो संस्कृतिलाई डसे
नदेखिएका पनि होइनन् ती अँध्यारामा
तर तर मेरो प्रहारभन्दा अघि
दुलोभित्र पस्थे
तिनलाई पनि नभत्काएको होइन मैल
तर मैले पछ्याउँदा पछ्याउँदै पनि
ती भागेर पर्खाल भित्र पसे
पर्खाल भत्त्काएँ
तर अफशोच !
ती यति अग्ला पर्खालभित्र पसे
जसलाई म
न त उक्लिन सक्छु
न भित्र पस्न सक्छु
मलाई थाहा छ
व्यर्थ छ मेरो अभियान
सर्प मार्नु ता परै जाओस
बरु कुनै पनि क्षण
म आफै डसिन सक्छु
तै पनि बसेको छु म पर्खाल कुरेर
पर्खाल घुरेर
कारण मालई खोजी छ ती सर्पको
जसले यो सुन्दर देशलाई बारम्बार डसिरहेछ
डसिरहेछ ।

 

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War And Peace – Nate Snowball

War is Peace
Peace is War

War unites against
One common enemy
Peace tears apart
A dream-like society

The fear during War
Gives control to the government
The calmness of Peace
Lets your guard down with sentiment

War causes death
Physically, Statistically

Peace ends life
Emotionally, Personally

War is Peace
Peace is War

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Peace Or Poverty – Sonali Shah

Their skin soaks up the heat
Leaving it as black as the midnight sky,
Their eyes wide, white, pleading
Begging to the passersby.
They litter the street
Half naked bodies,
Red and colouring their feet
Searching for a entrance
A door out of the circle of poverty.

Poverty means destruction
Destruction means fear
Behind locked doors we sit in early evening
Too scared to see a black face
Terrified of black feet crossing the threshold.
But why be fearful of your slaves,
Those you whip and beat
Treating like the dirt from the doormat
Where you wipe your feet.

Role diversity causes poverty
Poverty destroys peace
But peace minus poverty
Means Equality should increase.

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Peace – Patrick Kavanagh

And sometimes I am sorry when the grass
Is growing over the stones in quiet hollows
And the cocksfoot leans across the rutted cart-pass
That I am not the voice of country fellows
Who now are standing by some headland talking
Of turnips and potatoes or young corn
Of turf banks stripped for victory.
Here Peace is still hawking
His coloured combs and scarves and beads of horn.

Upon a headland by a whinny hedge
A hare sits looking down a leaf-lapped furrow
There’s an old plough upside-down on a weedy ridge
And someone is shouldering home a saddle-harrow.
Out of that childhood country what fools climb
To fight with tyrants Love and Life and Time?

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निबन्ध: ट्रान्जिटमा तन्नेरीका कुरा

स्थान: ट्रान्जिट लाउन्ज, सुवर्णभूमि अन्तराष्ट्रिय विमानस्थल, बैंकक ।

माइकल ओन्टाजीका उपन्यास ‘अनिल्स गोस्ट’ का केही पानाहरूमा आँखाहरू दौडाएपछि म पढाइलाई विश्राम दिदै ट्रान्जिट लाउन्जछेउको एउटा कफी पसलमा पुग्छु । चालीस भाट तिरेर एक बोतल पानी किन्छु र लाउन्जको अर्को छेउतिर हान्निन्छु । लाउन्जमा विभिन्न रूप र रङ्गका, उमेर र आकारका यात्रुहरूको चहल पहल छ । काठमाडौं विमानस्थलमै परिचित जस्ता देखिने दुई तन्नेरी अनुहारहरू लाउन्जको कुर्सीछेउ उभिएका छन् । हँसिला देखिने उनीहरूसँग आँखा जुध्न पुग्छ । “भाइहरू कहाँसम्म नि ?” म उत्सुकतापूर्वक कुराकानी शुरू गर्दछु । “सिड्नी जान लागेको”, उनीहरू प्रतिप्रश्न गर्छन्, “अनि दाइ कहाँसम्म नि ?” आफू कोरियाबाट प्राप्त एउटा निम्तोमा राजधानी सिउलतर्फ लाग्दै गरेको बताएपछि हामी तुरून्तै घुलमिल हुन्छौं । तन्नेरीहरूको साथ पाएपछि ट्रान्जिट र लामो हवाई यात्राका साथी पुस्तक (यसपटक माइकल ओन्टाजीको ‘अनिल्स गोस्ट’) बाट म आफूलाई मुक्त गर्दछु । र, किताबलाई झोला भित्र घुसार्दै उनीहरू संगैको सोफाछेउ बस्छु । ट्रान्जिटकै सोफामा अन्य दुई तन्नेरीहरू पहिल्यै पल्टिरहेका छन् । तिनको छेउकै अर्को सोफामा तिनीहरूकै उमेरकी एउटी किशोरी पछ्यौराले ढाकिएर निदाउने कोसिक गरिरहेकी छे । केही भोकाएका उनीहरूमध्ये एकले वाइ-वाइ चाउचाउको पुरिया फोरेको छ, जसलाई उनीहरू बाडिचुडी पनि खादैछन् । यी सव हाउभाउवाट मैले अनुमान गरे यी तन्नेरीहरू एकैसाथ सिड्नी उडेका ‘जिगरी दोस्त’ वा सहपाठी हुनुपर्छ । भाइहरूसँगै हिँड्नुभएको होला, होइन र ?”, म प्रश्न तेर्साउछु ।

“होइन दाइ, यही तल काउन्टरमा सिड्नीका लागि बोर्डिङ् पास लिदा हाम्रो परिचय भएको हो ।” “एक्साइडेड हुनुहोला नि भाइहरू, अब परदेशमा चाँडै कलेज लाइफ शुरू हुँदै छ। नयाँ ठाउँ नयाँ उत्साह !” “खै कलेज पढ्ने भन्ने कि भाँडा माझ्ने भन्ने दाइ” एउटाले ठट्यौलो पारामा दिएको जवाफ सुनेर सबै गलल्ल हाँस्न थाल्छन् । यो हाँसोले साच्चै नै हाम्रो कुराकानीको ‘आइस ब्रेक’ गर्छ । र, अब म यी तन्नेरीहरूसँग क्याजुअल (अनौपचारिक) कुराकानी गर्दछु । अब परिचयको साटासाट पछि यी तन्नेरीहरू आफ्नो सुविधाअनुसार मसंग दाइ, अंकल र ब्रोको संवोधनमा निसंकोच भलाकुसारी गर्न थाल्छन् । तन्नेरीहरूका कुराकानीमा उमंगको थोरै र संशयको धेरै मात्रा छ । आफूहरूले तीन घण्टा पहिले छाडेर आएको देश कतै आफ्नो अनुपस्थितिमा भड्खालोमा त जाँदैन भन्ने चिन्ता र संशय उनीहरूको प्रत्येक अभिब्यक्तिमा प्रष्ट महसुस गर्न सकिन्छ । प्रस्टै छ उनीहरू अहिले हवाई यात्राको मात्र नभएर जिन्दगीकै ट्रान्जिटमा छन् । अब आउने केही वर्षहरूले उनीहरूलाई आफ्नो गन्तब्यतिर डोहोर्‍याउनेछ । अभिभावकको प्रत्यक्ष मार्गदर्शन र निगरानीबाट मुक्त उनीहरूले यस अघिको यात्रा अब आफ्नै भरमा तय गर्नुपर्नेछ ।

यसरी यात्रा गर्नेहरूमा उनीहरू मात्र एक्ला होइनन् । नेपालबाट दैनिक हजारौं युवाहरू पढाइ वा रोजगारीका निम्ति हवाई मार्ग हुँदै विदेसिन्छन् । यस अर्थमा यी भाग्यमानी तन्नेरीहरू हुन्, जो अभिभावकको खर्चमा सही शिक्षाका निम्ति एक समृद्ध मुलुकतर्फको यात्रामा छन् । उनीहरूका न त नवविवाहिता श्रीमती वा दूधे बालक वा रूग्न बाबुआमालाई छाडेर हिँडेका छन्, न त ऋणको भारी बोकेर नै । त्यसैले उनीहरूमा उल्लास टनाटन छ, भलै भर्खरै देश छाड्नु परेकाले केही नियास्रिएकै होस् । उमंग र कौतुहलको तराजुमा उनीहरू तैरिरहेका छन् । म दी काठमाण्डू पोस्टमा कार्यरत एउट सञ्चारकर्मी रहेको थाहा पाएपछि उनीहरू ममाथि अनेकौं प्रश्नहरू बर्साउँछन् । “अंकल हाम्रो देशमा साँच्चै शान्ति आउला त ?”, “हैन दाइ ज्ञानेन्द्रले फेरि कू गर्लान् त ?”, “के आर्मी चुप लागेर बस्ला र ?, “माओवादी फेरि जंगल पसे त बबाल हुन्छ नि ब्रो !” “के संविधान सभाको चुनाव भएर, संविधान बन्ला त ?”

यी चिन्ताहरूसँगै उनीहरूमा विदेशको पढाइ र बसाईबारे पनि उत्तिकै कौतुहल छ । कतै बाँकी जीवन भाँडा माझ्दामाझ्दै सकिने त होइन भन्ने संसय र त्रासले उनीहरूलाई उत्तिकै गाँजेको पनि छ । उनीहरूको चिन्ता सहजै बुझेकाले पनि उमेर र अनुभवको धरातलमा टेक्दै म आफूले जानेसम्म उनीहरूको कौतुहल मेटाउने प्रयत्न गर्दैछु । करिब दशक अघि आफू पनि उनीहरूकै जस्तो अवस्था र मनोदशामा उच्चशिक्षाका निम्ति लण्डन पुगेको बताए पछि उनीहरू मसंग निकै नजिकिन्छन् । कसरी काम खोज्ने, अनि कामसंगसंगै पढाइलाई सन्तुलनमा राख्नेबारे मबाट ‘टिप्स’ खोजिरेका छन् उनीहरू । विदेशमा रहँदा काम गर्ने वा भाँडा माझ्ने कुराबाट बिचलित हुनुभन्दा पनि मूल उद्देश्य पढाइमा अडिग रहनेतर्फ प्रतिबद्ध रहनेतर्फ गम्भीर रहन म सल्लाह दिन्छु । कामको वर्गीकरणभन्दा पनि परिश्रमको कदर गर्नु महत्वपूर्ण हुने बताउँछु म । र, आफूले लन्डनमा काम गर्दा गर्दै कष्टकासाथ उच्च शिक्षा हासिल गरेको फेहरिस्त पनि उनीहरूलाई सुनाउँछु । मेरो कुराबाट उनीहरूमा आत्मविश्वास भरिएर केही राहत महसुस गरे झै देख्छु म । उमेर र हाउभाउले अल्लारे देखिए तापनि भित्रीरूपले यी तन्नेरीहरू संवेदनशील रहेको अनुभव पनि गर्छु ।

हुन पनि अस्ट्रेलियामा दिन प्रतिदिन उर्लंदो नेपाली विद्यार्थीहरूको चाप र यसका कारण नेपालीहरूलाई सस्ता कामदारका रूपमा दुरूपयोग गरिने प्रबृतिवारे विज्ञ भएकाले पनि यी तन्नेरीहरूको चिन्ता स्वाभाविक छ । विदेशमा नेपालीले नेपालीलाई असहयोग गर्ने, ईर्ष्यालु बन्ने र ढाडस दिनुपर्ने ठाउँमा झनै खुट्टा तान्ने प्रवृत्तिबारे भलिभाती जानकार छन् यिनीहरू । अनि नयाँ रहन-सहन भिज्न सक्नु पर्ने र प्रविधिहरूमा तुरून्तै अभ्यस्त हुनु पर्ने चुनौती पनि छ यिनीहरूलाई । उनीहरूका चिन्ता र उद्देश्य जे-जस्ता भए पनि यिनीहरू आत्मविश्वासी र वाचाल छन् । र, यिनीहरूका हर्कतहरू त झनै रङ्गदार छन् । एकाध नन-फिक्सन डकुमेन्ट्री बनाइसकेको म यी तन्नेरीहरूका गतिविधि क्यामरा मार्फत उधिन्न सके एउटा जीवन्त डकुमेन्ट्री बन्न सक्ने कल्पना गर्दछु । र, आफूसँग ह्याण्डिकेम (भिडियो क्यामेरा) साथै नभएकोमा थकथकी पनि मान्छु । स्वाभाविक छ, देशका अन्य तन्नेरीहरू जस्तै उनीहरू पनि मुलुकको परिस्थिति बिगार्नेहरू प्रति नै क्रुद्ध छन् । राजा ज्ञानेन्द्रको निरंकुशता भर्खरै भोगेका हुनाले पनि उनीहरू राजा बिनाकै मुलुकको कल्पनामा छन् । तर, दोस्रो जनआन्दोलन पछिका नेताहरू पनि ‘जुन जोगी आए पनि कानै चिरेका’ हुने त होइनन् भन्ने चिन्ताले सताइएका छन् यिनीहरू । तीमध्येका भट्टराई थरका एक हसमुख तन्नेरी, जसले परिचयका क्रममा मेरा स्कूले जीवनका एक सहपाठी प्रमोद दवाडीका भान्जा रहेको बताएका थिए, राजा ज्ञानेन्द्रबारेको एउटा रोचक किस्सा सविस्तार गर्छन् ।

‘एकपटक ज्ञानेन्द्र सिरहा पुगेछन् । राजा आउने खबर सुनेका एक स्थानीय बृध्द राजासंग गुनासो राख्न कोसौदेखि टन्टलापुर घाममा दौडेर आइपुगेछन् । आफ्नै आँखाका अगाडि साक्षात राजालाई पाउँदा ती वृद्ध निकै नर्भस भएछन् । र, बोल्ने लाख कोसिस गर्दा पनि तिनको बक राम्ररी फुट्न सकेनछ । ती स्वाँ-स्वाँ गर्दै बर्बराउन थालेछन् – सरकार, सरकार, सरकार !’ ‘राजाले त्यो सुनेर टाउको हल्लाउँदै भनेछन्- ए बुझेँ बुझेँ, तिमीलाई दम भएको रहेछ ।’ यस प्रसंगवाट फेरि एक पटक हाँसोको पर्राले ट्रान्जिट लाउन्ज गुन्जाएमान बन्छ । हाँसो सकिदै गर्दा बोर्डिङ् पास लिने क्रममा दौंतरी बनेका अर्का तन्नेरी कम्प्लिमेन्ट गर्छन्, “आम्मै ! यो ब्रो त हरिप जोकर पो त रहेछ ।” हुन पनि यी चार तन्नेरीहरू चार दिशाका छन् । भिन्न चरित्र र रूचिहरूका । राजनीति, मिडिया, पढाइ र जीवनशैली हाम्रा कुराकानीका विषय बन्छन् । समूहका एक जो निकै अग्ला तर लिखुरे ज्यानका छन्, जसलाई उनीहरू ‘लम्बु ब्रो’ भनेर सम्वोधन गर्छन्, टोक्योतिर उड्न लागेकी एक युवतीको साथ छन् । झट्ट हाउभाउ हेर्दा ती युवती लम्बुकी गर्लफ्रेन्ड जस्ती देखिन्छिन् । कुरा त्यस्तो नभएर उनी पनि ट्रान्जिटमै परिचित हुन पुगेकी रहिछिन् । लम्बु केही बेरमा तिनै युवतीका साथ आउँछन् । युवतीको अनुहार केही मलिन छ । उनी यी तन्नेरीहरूसँग विदावारी हुन आएकी रहिछिन् । बिदाईपछि लम्बु युवतीलाई पुर्‍याउन उनको प्रस्थान कक्षतिर लाग्छन् । “हो यसैगरी भाइहरू एकअर्कालाई पालैपालो डिपार्चरतिर पुर्‍याउने काम गर्नुस्”, म सुझावको शैलीमा व्यङ्ग्य गर्छु, “यसो गर्दा ट्रान्जिटको समय सजिलै कट्नेछ ।” सबै फेरि एकपल्ट गलल्ल हाँस्छन् । यसरी हाँसो र ठट्टा मै मेरो ट्रान्जिटको पाँच घण्टामध्ये चार घन्टा सकिएता पनि ती तन्नेरीहरूका सर्लक्कै चौध घण्टा समय बाँकी नै छ ।

“यस्तो नि हुन्छ ट्रान्जिट अंकल ?’ एउटा दिक्दारी प्रकट गर्छ, “यो रड्डी भयो नि !” अनि थप्छ, “चौध घण्टा के गरेर बिताउने ? यसो तास-सास भएको भए खेल्न पनि हुन्थ्यो ।”
“यस्तो थाहा पाएको भए मै बोकेर आउथे नि”, अर्को सहमति जनाउँछ । “ल ब्रो पालै पालो सुत्नुपर्ला । यसो गर्दा समान पनि हराउन सक्दैन । अनि सुत्दा-सुत्दै प्लेन पनि छुट्दैन”, तेस्रो जुक्ती फुराउँछ । उनीहरू सुत्दा सुत्दै प्लेन नै छुटेको हरिवंश आचार्य र मदनकृष्ण श्रेष्ठ अभिनीत टेलिचलचित्र ‘१५ गते’ सन्दर्भसँग अहिलेको ट्रान्जिटको बसाइलाई जोड्छन् ।
“भाइ हो, मजाले सुते हुन्छ”, म सल्लाहको भावमा सान्तना दिन्छु, “चौध घण्टाको ट्रान्जिटमा कति लामो नै पो सुतिएला र ? आज सुतेर पर्सी उठ्ने त पक्कै होइन होला ?” एक पल्ट फेरि ट्रान्जिट हाँसोले गुन्जिन्छ । यसैबीच जापान जाने युबतीलाई बिदाइ गर्न हिडेका लम्बु आइपुग्छन् । “के रहेछ ब्रो त्यो केटीको नाम?” एउटा सोध्छ । “खै ब्रो, नाम त सोधिएन’, लम्बु जवाफ फर्काउछ। केही समय मात्रको युवतीको साथका कारण साथीहरूमाझ लम्बु जिज्ञासा र ईर्ष्याको केन्द्र बनिसकेको छ। “इमेल त पक्कै लिएका हौला नि ?” अर्को चाहिँले केरकार गर्छ ।

“का लिनु ब्रो”, लम्बु सफाइको शैलीमा जवाफ फर्काउछन् । हामी बीचको कुराकानी फेरि अघि बढ्छ । पत्रकारले बनाउने पहिचान र उनीहरूलाई मिल्ने सहुलियत बारे उनीहरू निकै जिज्ञासु बन्छन् । “अंकललाई त मोज छ नि”, एउटा थप्छ, “पत्रकारहरूलाई सित्तैमा घुम्ने मौका निकै आउँदो हो ।” “हेर्नुस्, भाइहरू हो उमेरको आफ्नै फाउदा र बेफाइदा हुन्छन्”, म उनीहरूको चित्त बुझाउन खोज्छु, “अहिले घुम्न त पाइन्छ तर तपाईंहरू जस्तै ठिटीको पछि लाग्न मिल्दैन नि !” मेरो कुराले तन्नेरीहरूको अनुहारमा खुशीको भाव झल्किन्छ । “बूढाहरू झन् खल्ली हुन्छन्”, लम्बु जवाफ फर्काउनमा कुनै कन्जुस्याइ गर्दैनन् । अब मेरो बाँकी एक घण्टा पनि लगभग सकिनै लागेको छ । तन्नेरीहरूको सानिध्यका कारण मैले ट्रान्जिटका पाँच घण्टा पाँच मिनेट झैं बिताएको छु । अब छुटिने तरखर गर्दै तन्नेरीहरूलाई आगामी विद्यार्थी जीवनको शुभकामना दिँदै म आफ्नो प्रस्थान कक्षतिर लाग्छु ।

(पत्रकार खरलेको हालै सार्वजनिक मैले नदेखेका हिप्पी निबन्ध संग्रहबाट । यो संग्रह सांगि्रला बुक्सले बजारमा ल्याएको हो ।)

Source: http://www.onlinekhabar.com/2013/08/110524

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The Powers Of Hate – Vega Destiny Star

Hate is the opposite of love.
These emotions are powerful.
Hate stirs up conflicts and wars.
Discrimination is a cause of hate.

People say hate is a powerful word.
It is indeed a powerful word hate.

Hate brings on Anxiety
Anxiety leads to fear.
Fear brings on anger.
Anger leads to suffering.
Suffering causes death.

This feeling is dark and dreadful.
Hate is represented by the color black.
Such a dark deep color like hate.
In the dictionary there are too many words that mean hate.
Does all Humanity hate each other.

People hate you for your beliefs, interests, dress, even the way you look.
Thinking that hate will be a solved problem is only a madman’s dream.

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Hate – Mate – Herbert Nehrlich

There once was a little swine
he was partial to blueberry wine
and he had a fat mother
who had smothered his father
someone said you are out of line.

And the mother was really huge
and she dreamed of an oily deluge
where she would lose it all
and become a sweet doll
but the God of all fat was a scrooge.

So she went on a rampage to stab
all those thin ones who did not have flab
but she was so inept
that she finally wept
and she hoped for the gift of the gab.

But the weather had turned rather sour
it was raining from shower to shower
so she called to the crowd
that today is allowed
real fighting in mud, woman power.

But the people who’d smelled her objected
she was fat, had completely neglected
her old body at that
and she was rather fat
so she found that they all had defected.

When the stars came out shining in gold
and this fatso had done what she’s told
she just jumped from the castle
to avoid further hassle
she had always seen others as old.

What this proves is the subject of hate
is so futile to use on a mate
if you hate you are dumb
they should flog your old bum
but I think that we may be too late.

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Hate – Sandra Osborne

Somewhere, it must have happened first,
The fear, the anger,
The helpless feeling of guilt.

Somewhere, it must have happened first,
The sarcasm, the malice,
The wearied feeling of shame.

Somewhere, it must have happened first,
The desertion, the anarchy,
The drained feeling of alone.

Somewhere, it must have happened first,
The lost love, the lost faith,
The stoic feeling of the end

Somewhere, it must have happened first,
Somewhere, it must have.

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Hate – Victor Osorio

They say hate is another fear
A fear to not love
A fear to not belong
A fear to not be here
A fear that is wrong
I’m consumed with more than enough
I feel it all the time
More than the feeling of love
More than being afraid
Dark thoughts make me cold
Making it a part of me
Until I grow old
Until I can no longer see
I let the evil within
Take over my soul
By commiting this sin
I pay a greater toll
Slowly, now I’m fading
Blurry and freezy
It hurts to be hating.

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कविता – सेतो लुगामा कालो

अरूका लागि भोकै बस्न
कठिन रहेछ !

सुनेर पनि नसुनेझैं गरिरहेछन्
भोगेर पनि नभोगेझैं गरिरहेछन्
देखेर पनि नदेखेझैं गरिरहेछन्
हात बाँधेर आफ्नो
केवल हेरिरहेछन् कतै 
र खोजिरहेछन्
आफ्नै नाभिको कस्तूरी !

चारैतिर शून्यता चलेका बेला
आवाज निकाल्न
ठूलै शाहस चाहिने रहेछ !

सानो हुँदा सिकाए–

सज्जन हुनू
ठूलो भएपछि पनि भनिरहे–
पेसामा निष्ठावान् हुनू
तिनका लागि लड्नू, जसलाई साँच्चै जरूरी छ !

सपथ लिएको पनि एकै हो–
सेतो लुगामा कहिल्यै कालो लगाउने छैनौं ।

मलाई कहिल्यै थाहा भएन
निष्ठाको परिभाषा कसरी फरक-फरक हुन्छ ?
कालो र सेतोको अनुहार उस्तै-उस्तै कसरी बन्छ ?

आफ्नै लडाइँ लड्न किन डराउँछन् मान्छे ?
किन हराउँछन् देशलाई चाहिएको बेला ?

लड्दा–लड्दै बेथितिविरूद्ध
म पागल भएँ
तर,
सज्जनहरूको बहुमतमा
पागल हुन त झनै कठिन रहेछ ।

अब एउटै डर छ-
मेरो मृ्त्युपछि
यी म्युट चेतनाहरूले
मलाई सहिद भनिदेलान् !

 

Source – http://baahrakhari.com

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Poem – The New Remorse

The sin was mine; I did not understand.
So now is music prisoned in her cave,
Save where some ebbing desultory wave
Frets with its restless whirls this meagre strand.
And in the withered hollow of this land
Hath Summer dug herself so deep a grave,
That hardly can the leaden willow crave
One silver blossom from keen Winter’s hand.

But who is this who cometh by the shore?
(Nay, love, look up and wonder!) Who is this
Who cometh in dyed garments from the South?
It is thy new-found Lord, and he shall kiss
The yet unravished roses of thy mouth,
And I shall weep and worship, as before.

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Poem – In The Forest

Out of the mid-wood’s twilight
Into the meadow’s dawn,
Ivory limbed and brown-eyed,
Flashes my Faun!

He skips through the copses singing,
And his shadow dances along,
And I know not which I should follow,
Shadow or song!

O Hunter, snare me his shadow!
O Nightingale, catch me his strain!
Else moonstruck with music and madness
I track him in vain!

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Poem – My Voice

WITHIN this restless, hurried, modern world
We took our hearts’ full pleasure–You and I,
And now the white sails of our ship are furled,
And spent the lading of our argosy.

Wherefore my cheeks before their time are wan,
For very weeping is my gladness fled,
Sorrow hath paled my lip’s vermilion,
And Ruin draws the curtains of my bed.

But all this crowded life has been to thee
No more than lyre, or lute, or subtle spell
Of viols, or the music of the sea
That sleeps, a mimic echo, in the shell.

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Poem – The True Knowledge

Thou knowest all; I seek in vain
What lands to till or sow with seed –
The land is black with briar and weed,
Nor cares for falling tears or rain.

Thou knowest all; I sit and wait
With blinded eyes and hands that fail,
Till the last lifting of the veil
And the first opening of the gate.

Thou knowest all; I cannot see.
I trust I shall not live in vain,
I know that we shall meet again
In some divine eternity.

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Poem – The House Of Judgement

And there was silence in the House of Judgment, and the Man came
naked before God.

And God opened the Book of the Life of the Man.

And God said to the Man, ‘Thy life hath been evil, and thou hast
shown cruelty to those who were in need of succour, and to those
who lacked help thou hast been bitter and hard of heart. The poor
called to thee and thou didst not hearken, and thine ears were
closed to the cry of My afflicted. The inheritance of the
fatherless thou didst take unto thyself, and thou didst send the
foxes into the vineyard of thy neighbour’s field. Thou didst take
the bread of the children and give it to the dogs to eat, and My
lepers who lived in the marshes, and were at peace and praised Me,
thou didst drive forth on to the highways, and on Mine earth out of
which I made thee thou didst spill innocent blood.’

And the Man made answer and said, ‘Even so did I.’

And again God opened the Book of the Life of the Man.

And God said to the Man, ‘Thy life hath been evil, and the Beauty I
have shown thou hast sought for, and the Good I have hidden thou
didst pass by. The walls of thy chamber were painted with images,

and from the bed of thine abominations thou didst rise up to the
sound of flutes. Thou didst build seven altars to the sins I have
suffered, and didst eat of the thing that may not be eaten, and the
purple of thy raiment was broidered with the three signs of shame.
Thine idols were neither of gold nor of silver that endure, but of
flesh that dieth. Thou didst stain their hair with perfumes and
put pomegranates in their hands. Thou didst stain their feet with
saffron and spread carpets before them. With antimony thou didst
stain their eyelids and their bodies thou didst smear with myrrh.
Thou didst bow thyself to the ground before them, and the thrones
of thine idols were set in the sun. Thou didst show to the sun thy
shame and to the moon thy madness.’

And the Man made answer and said, ‘Even so did I.’

And a third time God opened the Book of the Life of the Man.

And God said to the Man, ‘Evil hath been thy life, and with evil
didst thou requite good, and with wrongdoing kindness. The hands
that fed thee thou didst wound, and the breasts that gave thee suck
thou didst despise. He who came to thee with water went away
thirsting, and the outlawed men who hid thee in their tents at
night thou didst betray before dawn. Thine enemy who spared thee
thou didst snare in an ambush, and the friend who walked with thee
thou didst sell for a price, and to those who brought thee Love
thou didst ever give Lust in thy turn.’

And the Man made answer and said, ‘Even so did I.’

And God closed the Book of the Life of the Man, and said, ‘Surely I
will send thee into Hell. Even into Hell will I send thee.’

And the Man cried out, ‘Thou canst not.’

And God said to the Man, ‘Wherefore can I not send thee to Hell,
and for what reason?’

‘Because in Hell have I always lived,’ answered the Man.

And there was silence in the House of Judgment.

And after a space God spake, and said to the Man, ‘Seeing that I
may not send thee into Hell, surely I will send thee unto Heaven.
Even unto Heaven will I send thee.’

And the Man cried out, ‘Thou canst not.’

And God said to the Man, ‘Wherefore can I not send thee unto
Heaven, and for what reason?’

‘Because never, and in no place, have I been able to imagine it,’
answered the Man.

And there was silence in the House of Judgment.

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Poem – Under The Balcony

O beautiful star with the crimson mouth!
O moon with the brows of gold!
Rise up, rise up, from the odorous south!
And light for my love her way,
Lest her little feet should stray
On the windy hill and the wold!
O beautiful star with the crimson mouth!
O moon with the brows of gold!

O ship that shakes on the desolate sea!
O ship with the wet, white sail!
Put in, put in, to the port to me!
For my love and I would go
To the land where the daffodils blow
In the heart of a violet dale!
O ship that shakes on the desolate sea!
O ship with the wet, white sail!

O rapturous bird with the low, sweet note!
O bird that sits on the spray!
Sing on, sing on, from your soft brown throat!
And my love in her little bed
Will listen, and lift her head
From the pillow, and come my way!
O rapturous bird with the low, sweet note!
O bird that sits on the spray!

O blossom that hangs in the tremulous air!
O blossom with lips of snow!
Come down, come down, for my love to wear!
You will die on her head in a crown,
You will die in a fold of her gown,
To her little light heart you will go!
O blossom that hangs in the tremulous air!
O blossom with lips of snow!

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Sad Eyes – Mariana Zita

These eyes of mine cry
This heart of mine bleeds
This soul of mine breaks
As i slowly die, the colours
of my face fade and my once
happy life is know like the walls
of a dungeon, black, dark and
empty with no one there to comfort
me and the one person i thought
would be there is the farthest one away
from me.Come back i call come back
but the more i shout and scream her name
the more she walks not even looking at my
sad eyes that shimmer with unshed tears.
I call her to please come back, but she keeps
on walking as if not hearing my pleas, and as
she keeps on walking into the light of there
scorn and hate, i cry with every step she takes.
As my body crumbles to the ground a heap of
broken bones, she turns back for one last glance
and see’s my fallen body, running back to me she
calls my name with a desperate tone in her voice.
Its to late though for I am gone out of the prison
that once held me for so long, never will i return

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Winter Sleep – Elinor Morton Wylie

When against earth a wooden heel
Clicks as loud as stone on steel,
When stone turns flour instead of flakes,
And frost bakes clay as fire bakes,
When the hard-bitten fields at last
Crack like iron flawed in the cast,
When the world is wicked and cross and old,
I long to be quit of the cruel cold.

Little birds like bubbles of glass
Fly to other Americas,
Birds as bright as sparkles of wine
Fly in the nite to the Argentine,
Birds of azure and flame-birds go
To the tropical Gulf of Mexico:
They chase the sun, they follow the heat,
It is sweet in their bones, O sweet, sweet, sweet!
It’s not with them that I’d love to be,
But under the roots of the balsam tree.

Just as the spiniest chestnut-burr
Is lined within with the finest fur,
So the stoney-walled, snow-roofed house
Of every squirrel and mole and mouse
Is lined with thistledown, sea-gull’s feather,
Velvet mullein-leaf, heaped together
With balsam and juniper, dry and curled,
Sweeter than anything else in the world.

O what a warm and darksome nest
Where the wildest things are hidden to rest!
It’s there that I’d love to lie and sleep,
Soft, soft, soft, and deep, deep, deep!

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Winter – Walter de la Mare

Clouded with snow
The cold winds blow,
And shrill on leafless bough
The robin with its burning breast
Alone sings now.

The rayless sun,
Day’s journey done,
Sheds its last ebbing light
On fields in leagues of beauty spread
Unearthly white.

Thick draws the dark,
And spark by spark,
The frost-fires kindle, and soon
Over that sea of frozen foam
Floats the white moon.

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Husband – Angelica Machado

I never knew what love meant until I met you
Your always there for me
Whenever I need you
You worry so much for me
And I do too
That when we are not together
We miss each other all the way through.

You always comfort me
When I’m sad
You try so hard to make me happy
Even when I’m mad,
I dont know sometimes how you put up with me
I guess thats very nice
To have a wonderfull husband
Always by my side.

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Husband – Donna Saphier

Where did you go
When you left that day
Do you know I’m still crying
Do you know I still pray
The last words you said
Were please hold my hand
Then what happened next
I just don’t understand
You just went to sleep
But where did you go
I’ve been crying and waiting
And missing you so
You weren’t ready to go
I remember you said
That it’s gonna be years
Before you were dead
We had plans for our future
We had plans for today
I still can’t believe
That you’ve gone away
I miss you each minute
Of everyday
Are you not allowed back
If I ask and I pray
I’ll forget about my future
I’ll live in the past
And then my dear husband
Forever we’ll last
I love you so much
I would give up my life
Then we’ll always remain
Husband and wife x

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A Husband – Christopher Higginson

I’m looking for a husband, you know the sort of chap
The kind of guy who copes with things and never has a flap
The one who fixes cars and bikes and often mows the lawn
Takes the kids on Sunday hikes while I with hammock yawn

I’m looking for a husband, you know the sort of bloke
Who listens to the things I say and laughs out when I joke
He’ll do the Sunday B B Q and carves the Sunday roast
Then gives me a foot massage, that’s the thing I like the most

I’m looking for a husband dependable and true
Who likes to have discussions but never will argue
Can sit in friendly silence, and never has to babble
Will make and pour the tea for me and lets me win at scrabble

I’m looking for a husband; I know they’re pretty rare
The kind who opens doors for me and lets me have his chair
And earns enough at his travail so we’re debt and mortgage free
But doesn’t put his work ahead of caring about me

The husband I am looking for might seem quite rare to you
And friends have tried to tell me that in number they are few
But I have hope of finding one I hope he will be free
‘Cause I’ve been one for forty years, I want one just like me!

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The Husband – Leon Gellert

Yes, I have slain, and taken moving life
From bodies. Yea! And laughed upon the taking;
And, having slain, have whetted still the knife
For more and more, and heeded not the making
Of things that I was killing. Such ’twas then!
But now the thirst so hideous has left me.
I live within a coolness, among calm men,
And yet am strange. A something has bereft me
Of a seeing, and strangely love returns;
And old desires half-known, and hanging sorrows.
I seem agaze with wonder. Memory burns.
I see a thousand vague and sad tomorrows.
None sees my sadness. No one understands
How I must touch her hair with bloody hands.

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