What lives behind that ornate door
that's carved of snakes and vines?
I see them writhe and feel a shift
in its symbols and signs.
Ominous [Common Meter]
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Tag Archives: Common Meter
Play Mind [Common Meter]
What is this cloud above my head
on such a sunny day?
You may think it foreshadows rain.
I think that it brings play.
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Armenia [Common Meter]
I once sped through an ancient land
that blurred of gray and green.
Its pastures had been neatly grazed
by some livestock, unseen.
Its mountains rugged, under clouds
whose drift could not be seen.
It felt like a long-lost painting
or unremembered dream.
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“Song” by James Joyce [w/ Audio]
My love is in a light attire
Among the apple trees,
Where the gay winds do most desire
To run in companies.
There, where the gay winds stay to woo
The young leaves as they pass,
My love goes slowly, bending to
Her shadow on the grass.
And where the sky’s a pale blue cup
Over the laughing land,
My love goes lightly, holding up
Her dress with dainty hand.
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“His steady sails he never furls” by Henry David Thoreau [w/ Audio]
His steady sails he never furls
At any time o' year,
And perching now on Winter's curls,
He whistles in his ear
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“Could that sweet Darkness where they dwell” (1493) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]
Could that sweet Darkness where they dwell
Be once disclosed to us
The clamor for their loveliness
Would burst the Loneliness —
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“We should not mind so small a flower” by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]
We should not mind so small a flower
Except it quiet bring
Our little garden that we lost
Back to the Lawn again -
So spicy her Carnations nod -
So drunken, reel her Bees -
So silver, steal a hundred flutes
From out a hundred trees -
That whoso sees this little flower
By faith, may clear behold
The Bobolinks around the throne
And Dandelions gold.
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“The Soul has Bandaged moments” (360) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]
The Soul has Bandaged moments -
When too appalled to stir -
She feels some ghastly Fright come up
And stop to look at her -
Salute her, with long fingers -
Caress her freezing hair -
Sip, Goblin, from the very lips
The Lover - hovered - o'er -
Unworthy, that a thought so mean
Accost a Theme - so - fair -
The soul has moments of escape -
When bursting all the doors -
She dances like a Bomb, abroad,
And swings opon the Hours,
As do the Bee - delirious borne -
Long Dungeoned from his Rose -
Touch Liberty - then know no more -
But Noon, and Paradise
The Soul's retaken moments -
When, Felon led along,
With shackles on the plumed feet,
And staples, in the song,
The Horror welcomes her, again,
These, are not brayed of Tongue -
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“The Bell” by Ralph Waldo Emerson [w/ Audio]
I love thy music, mellow bell,
I love thine iron chime,
To life or death, to heaven or hell,
Which calls the sons of Time.
Thy voice upon the deep
The home-bound sea-boy hails,
It charms his cares to sleep,
It cheers him as he sails.
To house of God and heavenly joys
Thy summons called our sires,
And good men thought thy sacred voice
Disarmed the thunder's fires.
And soon thy music, sad death-bell,
Shall lift its notes once more,
And mix my requiem with the wind
That sweeps my native shore.
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“There is a finished feeling” (856) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Recording]
There is a finished feeling
Experienced at Graves—
A leisure of the Future—
A Wilderness of Size.
By Death’s bold Exhibition
Preciser what we are
And the Eternal function
Enabled to infer.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 