July

A boat beneath a sunny sky,
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July –

Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hear –

Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die:
Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:

Ever drifting down the stream –
Lingering in the golden dream –
Life, what is it but a dream?

- Lewis Carroll

Nothing gold can stay

Nothing gold can stay, originally uploaded by purest_lies.

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

~Robert Lee Frost

When March is scarcely here…

When March is scarcely here…, originally uploaded by purest_lies.

A light exists in spring

A light exists in spring
Not present on the year
At any other period.
When March is scarcely here

A color stands abroad
On solitary hills
That science cannot overtake,
But human naturefeels.

It waits upon the lawn;
It shows the furthest tree
Upon the furthest slope we know;
It almost speaks to me.

Then, as horizons step,
Or noons report away,
Without the formula of sound,
It passes, and we stay:

A quality of loss
Affecting our content,
As trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a sacrament.

~Emily Dickinson

Maybe

Within your lifetime will, perhaps,
As souvenirs from distant suns
Be carried back to earth some maps
Of planets and you’ll find that one’s
So hard to color that you’ve got
To use five crayons. Maybe, not.

~Marlow Sholander, “Maybe”

Sense and Sensibility

I don’t know how exactly I lost it.
They divide life into compartments those fools.
Thinking they’d better utilize it.
Seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years…
Time is a meaningless measure of life.
And life is a meaningless span of time.
Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.
Dumb! Dumb! Dumb! Dumb!

I don’t know how exactly I lost it.
Violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, red…
All merge into the same white light.
Happiness, doubts, joy, pain, peace, regrets…
All merge into the same empty void.
It’s so hard to differentiate.
When they are just the opposite sides of the same coin.
They try to separate one part of the spectrum from another, those fools.
It is the light which creates shadows.
Not the other way around.

I don’t know how exactly I lost it.
Conquer the world. Make your mark.
Justify your existence. Choose a path.
Run. Run. Run. Run.
There must be someplace to go.
What if I make it?
What if I don’t?
What if I try?
What if I won’t?
But what if it’s a circle stupid?

There was a tight cord once in my head.
And I could only take so much.
I don’t know how exactly I lost it.
I just heard a SNAP…
And then everything made sense.

//Sense and Sensibility by Erum Waseem

Sonnet for the End of a Sequence

So take my vows and scatter them to sea;
Who swears the sweetest is no more than human.
And say no kinder words than these of me:
"Ever she longed for peace, but was a woman!
And thus they are, whose silly female dust
Needs little enough to clutter it and bind it,
Who meet a slanted gaze, and ever must
Go build themselves a soul to dwell behind it."

//Dorothy Parker