a humble poet
Among the blight-killed eucalypts, among trees and bushes rusted by Christmas frosts, the yards and hillsides exhausted by five years of drought,
By Shahid Ali3 years ago in Poets
War is never over Thought the treaties may be signed The memories of the battles Are forever in our minds War is never over
The war will change many things in art and life, and among them, it is to be hoped, many of our own ideas as to what is, and what is not, "intellectual."
Prepare, prepare the iron helm of war, Bring forth the lots, cast in the spacious orb; Th' Angel of Fate turns them with mighty hands,
Your beliefs Your attitude Your thoughts Your perspective How honest you are Who your friends are What books you read
Lovers all are soldiers, and Cupid has his campaigns: I tell you, Atticus, lovers all are soldiers. Youth is fit for war, and also fit for Venus.
One day you'll wake up, And feel an awful ache. It's then you'll realize you're candles, Won't fit upon your cake. It's an inevitable thing,
He was the sort of man who wouldn't hurt a fly. Many flies are now alive while he is not. He was not my patron. He preferred full granaries, I battle.
Out there, we've walked quite friendly up to Death,- Sat down and eaten with him, cool and bland,- Pardoned his spilling mess-tins in our hand.
An immortal soul, that's something for me wish for, To be off on a long trek after my body's buried And my friends have driven way from the graveyard.
Good night, good rest, ah, neither be my share! She bade good night that kept my rest away, And daff'd me to a cabin hang'd with care,
It was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of three, That liked of her master, as well as well might be, Til looking on an Englishman, the fairest that