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  Apr 2018 david o'neill
Rumi
A lover asked his beloved,
Do you love yourself more
than you love me?



The beloved replied,
I have died to myself
and I live for you.



I’ve disappeared from myself
and my attributes.
I am present only for you.



I have forgotten all my learning,
but from knowing you
I have become a scholar.



I have lost all my strength,
but from your power
I am able.



If I love myself
I love you.
If I love you
I love myself.
  Apr 2018 david o'neill
Walt Whitman
When I heard the learn’d astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.
  Apr 2018 david o'neill
Walt Whitman
On the beach at night alone,
As the old mother sways her to and fro, singing her husky song,
As I watch the bright stars shining—I think a thought of the clef of the universes, and of the future.

A vast similitude interlocks all,
All spheres, grown, ungrown, small, large, suns, moons, planets, comets, asteroids,
All the substances of the same, and all that is spiritual upon the same,
All distances of place, however wide,
All distances of time—all inanimate forms,
All Souls—all living bodies, though they be ever so different, or in different worlds,
All gaseous, watery, vegetable, mineral processes—the fishes, the brutes,
All men and women—me also;
All nations, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, languages;
All identities that have existed, or may exist, on this globe, or any globe;
All lives and deaths—all of the past, present, future;
This vast similitude spans them, and always has spann’d, and shall forever span them, and compactly hold them, and enclose them.
  Apr 2018 david o'neill
Walt Whitman
1

Beat! beat! drums!—Blow! bugles! blow!
Through the windows—through doors—burst like a ruthless force,
Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation;
Into the school where the scholar is studying;
Leave not the bridegroom quiet—no happiness must he have now with his bride;
Nor the peaceful farmer any peace, plowing his field or gathering his grain;
So fierce you whirr and pound, you drums—so shrill you bugles blow.

2

Beat! beat! drums!—Blow! bugles! blow!
Over the traffic of cities—over the rumble of wheels in the streets:
Are beds prepared for sleepers at night in the houses? No sleepers must sleep in those beds;
No bargainers’ bargains by day—no brokers or speculators—Would they continue?
Would the talkers be talking? would the singer attempt to sing?
Would the lawyer rise in the court to state his case before the judge?
Then rattle quicker, heavier drums—you bugles wilder blow.

3

Beat! beat! drums!—Blow! bugles! blow!
Make no parley—stop for no expostulation;
Mind not the timid—mind not the weeper or prayer;
Mind not the old man beseeching the young man;
Let not the child’s voice be heard, nor the mother’s entreaties;
Make even the trestles to shake the dead, where they lie awaiting the hearses,
So strong you thump, O terrible drums—so loud you bugles blow.
  Apr 2018 david o'neill
Jeff Gaines
Every day, I bring her a flower.
Sometimes, more than one.

And if she asked me, I'd surely bring her
every flower under the Sun.

Every day, she makes me smile
and I always try and do the same.

But it's not hard when it comes to me ...
I need only hear her name.

Every day, I rejoice
just knowing that she is mine.

And every day that this gets older,
it ages just like a wine.

Every day is better than the last.
Every night, impossible to describe.

She is like an addiction I relish in ...
from which I'll forever imbibe.

Every day, I stare at her
just as the sun comes through our window.

Like watching an Angel, asleep beside me,
the greatest joy that I'll ever know.

Every day, feels like a dream.
Sometimes ... I fear I'll wake up.

And if this dream were some potion ...
I'd never set down that cup.

Every day, I love to hold her ...
feeling her breathe while standing by my side.

To have her look up, while in my arms
like being swept away with a tide.

Every day ... the greatest day.
The greatest I've ever known.

Every day ... the greatest love.
The greatest I've ever been shown.
This poem, from DEEP in my archives, is probably older than you are.
david o'neill Apr 2018
1
Pitter patter raindrops
falling from the sky,
Mesmorize my dreary eyes
for I would sooner die.
Than stay inside this hollow glass cage
As you begin to pour,
Shake me from these shackles now
And burst me out this door.

2
Pitter patter raindrops
Now you fall upon my face,
No longer will I have to wait
For your eager embrace.
I'm free to roam,
I'm free to laugh,
I'm free to love again.
You start to drench
But I welcome your scent
And know that true freedom shall begin.

3
Pitter patter raindrops
Now you soak me to my skin,
I hold my cup,
For you to fill up,
To the very brim.
The time has come,
The rat race run,
A new life to get underway.
I'll embark upon,
With journeys song,
A bright and prosperous new day.

4
Pitter patter raindrops
Falling from the sky,
Mesmorize my dreary eyes
For I would rather die.
Than be one of those people
who live by all those rules.
I'll carry on,
With my own song,
And to this I will stay true.
david o'neill Apr 2018
Infinite instants spent in endless embrace
Keep my heart warmer than a mid summer sun
Magnetic moments that I’m certain to chase
Call to my soul with reckless abandon.

My love for you is deep
Spreading like a vast expansive lake
Your secrets I long to keep
Honour bound to never break.
I radiate my longings and keep my cruelty to the min
For you I am a better man no longer to live in sin.
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