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I listened too closely
And heard only quiet
I looked all too near
And saw only hear
I touched what could sing
But felt what was mute
The sounds from your flute
Offended my ear
When all i could hear was godawfully moot
- anonymous -
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I grieve and dare not show my discontent,
I love and yet am forced to seem to hate,
I do, yet dare not say I ever meant,
I seem stark mute but inwardly do prate.
I am and not, I freeze and yet am burned,
Since from myself another self I turned.
My care is like my shadow in the sun,
Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it,
Stands and lies by me, doth what I have done.
His too familiar care doth make me rue it.
No means I find to rid him from my breast,
Till by the end of things it be supprest.
Some gentler passion slide into my mind,
For I am soft and made of melting snow;
Or be more cruel, love, and so be kind.
Let me or float or sink, be high or low.
Or let me live with some more sweet content,
Or die and so forget what love ere meant.
- Elizabeth I, Queen of England -
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Oh, I'm being eaten
By a boa constrictor,
A boa constrictor,
A boa constrictor,
I'm being eaten by a boa constrictor,
And I don't like it--one bit.
Well, what do you know?
It's nibblin' my toe.
Oh, gee,
It's up to my knee.
Oh my,
It's up to my thigh.
Oh, fiddle,
It's up to my middle.
Oh, heck,
It's up to my neck.
Oh, dread,
It's upmmmmmmmmmmffffffffff . . .
- Shel Silverstein -
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That's my window. This minute
So gently did I alight
From sleep--was still floating in it.
Where has my life its limit
And where begins the night?
I could fancy all things around
me
Were nothing but I as yet;
Like a crystal's depth, profoundly
Mute, translucent, unlit.
I have space to spare inside
me
For the stars, too: so full of room
Feels my heart; so lightly
Would it let go of him, whom
For all I know I have started
To love, it may be to hold.
Strange, as if never charted,
Stares my fortune untold.
Why is it I am bedded
Beneath this infinitude,
Fragrant like a meadow,
Hither and thither moved,
Calling out, yet fearing
Someone might hear the cry,
Destined to disappearing
Within another I.
- Rainer Maria Rilke - |
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The endless possibilities
Tempt the probabilities
That someone actually fits with me
And joins me for some figs and tea
Pull up the chair and sit by me
We'll stare at chocolate cream in glee
And talk the probabilities of people in the seventies
Discuss the possibilities of animals in lemon trees
We'll wipe them out if need it be
And all the world if you will please
Just so you and I can be
The perfect he and perfect she.
- anonymous -
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ALTER? When the hills do.
Falter? When the sun
Question if his glory
Be the perfect one.
Surfeit? When the daffodil
Doth of the dew:
Even as herself, O friend!
I will of you!
- Emily Dickinson - |
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