My mind's a map. A mad sea-captain drew it Under a flowing moon until he knew it; Winds with brass trumpets, puffy-cheeked as jugs, And states bright-patterned like Arabian rugs. "Here there be tygers." "Here we buried Jim." Here is the strait where eyeless fishes swim About their buried idol, drowned so cold He weeps away his eyes in salt and gold. A country like the dark side of the moon, A cider-apple country, harsh and boon, A country savage as a chestnut-rind, A land of hungry sorcerers. Your mind?
--Your mind is water through an April night, A cherry-branch, plume-feathery with its white, A lavender as fragrant as your words, A room where Peace and Honor talk like birds, Sewing bright coins upon the tragic cloth Of heavy Fate, and Mockery, like a moth, Flutters and beats about those lovely things. You are the soul, enchanted with its wings, The single voice that raises up the dead To shake the pride of angels. I have said.
From childhood's hour I have not been As others were -- I have not seen As other saw -- I could not bring My passions from a common spring --- From the same source I have not taken My sorrow -- I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone -- And all I lov'd -- I lov'd alone -- Then -- in my childhood -- in the dawn Of a most stormy life -- was drawn From ev'ry depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still -- From the torrent, or the fountain -- From the red cliff of the mountain -- From the sun that 'round me roll'd In its autumn tint of gold -- From the lightening in the sky As it pass'd me flying by -- From the thunder, and the storm -- And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view --
There once was a wee Asian Weaver Ant Who lived on a big banana tree plant. When they cut down his tree, a problem arose, Moving to a rubber tree would be too on-the-nose.
The Blue Sheep must be ever so sad: For of all the colors in which its clad -- None is blue; there're shades of brown, black, and white, But blue must be symbolic, if judged by sight.
A Cheetah can beat a Porsche to a hundred. (Imagine the tumble if a clumsy one blundered.) In fact, Cheetah's are so very, very fast that your future is way, way back in its past.
The Donkey 's known to be a stubborn beast, But when one won't move - maybe wheels weren't greased. I've seen angry humans push, pull, and tug, But never give a peptalk or a hug.
The Pelican, when it has formed a group, Is said to be a squadron, pouch, or scoop. I find that naming scheme quite puzzling; Isn't its "pouch" where it keeps soup for guzzling?
I saw a snake had made a gnarly bed -- On logs and stones, its length did curl and thread. Ah, to be comfy on bark's ragged bumps... I wake up when PJ's wad to a lump.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 