Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Box me up and ship me home
Put my medals on my chest
Tell my mom I did my best
Tell my love not to cry
I was a soldier born to die!
- Words from Tim O'Brien's tour of duty in the Vietnam war.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
The sun is rising, clear and bright,
winds gushing from all over,
a huge dust storm looms,
its pale shadowing the white.
The road ahead livens hope
despite the traffic's relaxing noise
falling leaves from trees remind
around one, our lives are loped.
Few hours of the lightened dark
dampens the inherent fears
a small window in the bottom right
rejuvinates them to re-embark.
If only one could sense
rains are meant to come close
and not to wither apart
holding one's hands in one's hands.
A misguided choice it may seem
but the truth is concealed
inside the riddle of variance
between doom and deem.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
If there ever was a way devised
to quantum how much I love you
and in my arms you could surmise
realizing, it, for sure to be true
No path was ever paved
nor the course ever shown
which may lead to the way
where love herbs are grown
But what love would be
if one were to discover such a path
none but the power demeaned
inviting your inner soul’s wrath
for love is a blessing, not a wile,
whose fragrance can be felt
when looking at me, you smile
the magic making my heart melt!
Sunday, January 16, 2011
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
- Robert Frost