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M Eastman Jan 2015
She's beautifully chaotic
a whirlwind of makeup and hoopla
she'll kick bushes on her way;
to a can of beer and a good comic book
M Eastman Jan 2015
Sometimes I write landscapes
sometimes I paint abstract thought
sometimes emotions split
the iron I have wrought
M Eastman Jan 2015
Don thy best armours
For your heart flies
a lock of her shining hair
betwixt the spear shaft
to pierce the hearts of men
their broken forms lay strewn
across aphrodites battlefields
Beware you glimpse
such grace as ever strode
the folds of firmas breast
M Eastman Jan 2015
pound the table
another round
here liquid courage
is to be found!

out flow the ales
pour forth the meads
hoist axe and buckler
there's mighty need!

For bearded froth
and battle hymns
tonight we drink
we drink from skins!

we drink from cups
we drain our steins
we'll drink until
our eyes go blind!

So hoist yer glass
join us tonight
put up yer fists
prepare to fight!

Put down that barstool
Ha! Ya missed
And sing the
Cadence of the ******!

Then pound the table
one last round
there's liquid courage
to be found!
WHERE dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berries
And of reddest stolen chetries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With afacry, hand in hand,
For the world's morefull of weeping than you
can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's morefully of weeping than you
can understand.}
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To to waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For to world's morefully of weeping than you
can understand.
Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal-chest.
For be comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
from a world more full of weeping than you
can understand.
M Eastman Jan 2015
When the night is clear and cold
and the stars poke through
the pine branches
hold yourself closer and block out the wind
and grip my hand tighter in the dark
I'll keep you safe
from a startled deer
In evenings shade
  Jan 2015 M Eastman
Devon Webb
The longest day
I've ever known
was the one I
wasted
waiting
for you to miss me
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