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Monday, May 19, 2008

  • A Dylan Thomas poem:
    Do not go gentle into that good night,Old age should burn and rave at close of day;Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Though wise men at their end know dark is right,Because their words had forked no lightning theyDo not go gentle into that good night.Good men, the last wave by, crying how brightTheir frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,Do not go gentle into that good night.Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sightBlind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.And you, my father, there on the sad height,Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.Do not go gentle into that good night.Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

    When You are Old  
    by W. B. Yeats

    When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
    And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
    And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
    Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

    How many loved your moments of glad grace,
    And loved your beauty with love false or true,
    But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
    And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

    And bending down beside the glowing bars,
    Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
    And paced upon the mountains overhead
    And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Sunday, March 16, 2008

  • A good poem

    Found this on the net, its a good one I think!

     


    Once in a lifetime,
     

    Once in a lifetime,
    Some one you meet
    Will steal your heart away,
    Sweep you off your feet

    If that love is shared,
    Stays fresh and strong
    It will keep lasting
    Your whole life long

    I know of such a love
    Many memories we have made
    Our dreams have come true
    The love has still stayed

    It's been tested and tried
    But bounced back every time
    Because it's true love
    My husband's and mine

Monday, February 25, 2008

  • Becoming Real....

    "Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real." "Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit. "Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt." "Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?" "It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

    -- by Margery Williams, from The Velveteen Rabbit --

Sunday, February 03, 2008


  • Daddy,
    I wish I'd heard this song when you were still alive.  If I would have then maybe my regrets would not have been so large and maybe I'd have understood you better.  I love you so much and miss you.
    Love,
    Your Cinderella,
    Lesley
     
     
    I came to see her daddy for sit down man to man
    It wasn't any secret i'd be asking for her hand
    I guess that's why he left me waiting in the living room by myself
    with at least a dozen pictures of her sitting on a shelf

    - Chorus -

    She was playing Cinderella
    She was riding her first bike
    Bouncing on the bed and looking for a pillow fight
    Running through the sprinkler with a big popsicle grin
    Dancing with her dad, looking up at him
    In her eyes i'm Prince Charming
    But to him i'm just some fella
    riding in and stealing Cinderella

    I leaned in towards those pictures to get a better look at one
    When I heard a voice behind me say "Now, ain't she something, son?"
    I said "Yes, she quite a woman"
    and he just stared at me
    Then I realized that in his eyes she would always be

    Playing Cinderella
    Riding her first bike
    Bouncing on the bed and looking for a pillow fight
    Running through the sprinkler with a big popsicle grin
    Dancing with her dad, looking up at him
    In her eyes i'm Prince Charming
    But to him i'm just some fella
    riding in and stealing Cinderella

    He slapped me on the shoulder
    Then he called her in the room
    When she threw her arms around him
    That's when I could see it too

    Playing Cinderella
    Riding her first bike
    Bouncing on the bed and looking for a pillow fight
    Running through the sprinkler with a big popsicle grin
    Dancing with her dad, looking up at him
    If he gives me a hard time
    I can't blame the fella
    I'm the one who's stealing Cinderel

Sunday, January 27, 2008

  • A lovely verse...

    For my long-time friend and love... John King


    Love seeketh not Itself to please,
    Nor for itself hath any care;
    But for another gives its ease,
    And builds a Heaven in Hells despair.
              ....................William Blake..............................

     

    Lovers2

Lesley

  • Visit Lesley's Xanga Site
    • Name: Lesley
    • Gender: Female
    • Member Since: 3/15/2001

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