Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Insufficient Oct 2014
High o'er the mountains
And the majestic pines
Come the Giants
Black and gray
Bearing waterfalls within thy self
Cooling the atmosphere.
It's a rainy day
  Oct 2014 Insufficient
vamsi sai mohan
I don't know what it is,
and that is precisely the reason why I am living...
This life is the disguise of the divine.
Had we known the destination,there wouldn't have been any inertia...
Insufficient Oct 2014
The old fable covers a doctrine ever new and sublime; that there is One Man, — present to all particular men only partially, or through one faculty; and that you must take the whole society to find the whole man. Man is not a farmer, or a professor, or an engineer, but he is all. Man is priest, and scholar, and statesman, and producer, and soldier. In the divided or social state, these functions are parcelled out to individuals, each of whom aims to do his stint of the joint work, whilst each other performs his. The fable implies, that the individual, to possess himself, must sometimes return from his own labor to embrace all the other laborers. But unfortunately, this original unit, this fountain of power, has been so distributed to multitudes, has been so minutely subdivided and peddled out, that it is spilled into drops, and cannot be gathered. The state of society is one in which the members have suffered amputation from the trunk, and strut about so many walking monsters, — a good finger, a neck, a stomach, an elbow, but never a man.

Man is thus metamorphosed into a thing, into many things. The planter, who is Man sent out into the field to gather food, is seldom cheered by any idea of the true dignity of his ministry. He sees his bushel and his cart, and nothing beyond, and sinks into the farmer, instead of Man on the farm. The tradesman scarcely ever gives an ideal worth to his work, but is ridden by the routine of his craft, and the soul is subject to dollars. The priest becomes a form; the attorney, a statute-book; the mechanic, a machine; the sailor, a rope of a ship.
Excerpt from an Oration delivered before the Phi Beta Kappa Society, at Cambridge, August 31, 1837 by Emerson
  Oct 2014 Insufficient
the first time I saw her,
everything in my head fell silent.
her eyes were reflections of galaxies
so many have gotten lost in before me.
her lips formed a smile like a flickering candle,
but a smile nonetheless.
her hair was let loose like a restless ocean.
she was breathtaking.
and it was when i felt my heart skip a beat
that i knew *i had to have her.
Insufficient Oct 2014
You gotta understand that I'm hard to understand
I am not the same person at 10am and 10pm.
Insufficient Oct 2014
I write in hopes to see the lightning bolt yellow.
I feel accomplished if it lights up at least once
  Oct 2014 Insufficient
Ashley Nicole
There's something about the night
That brings out raw emotion.
Maybe it's the moonlight,
Somber and sad
Or the quiet loneliness
That leaves you with your thoughts.
But for some
Unexplained reason
The pain we carry
During the day
Spills out of the cracks
Of the broken heart
When the sun sets
And the moon
Takes its place
In the sky
Next page