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AUTUMN is over the long leaves that love us,
And over the mice in the barley sheaves;
Yellow the leaves of the rowan above us,
And yellow the wet wild-strawberry leaves.
The hour of the waning of love has beset us,
And weary and worn are our sad souls now;
Let us patt, ere the season of passion forget us,
With a kiss and a tear on thy drooping brow.
Julian Delia Sep 2018
Is-solitudni hija inkredibbli.
Il-pinna tirtogħod jien u nikteb,
Estensjoni tat-taħwid ta’ ġismi.
Inħossni qisni forti imwaqqa’, inaċċessibli.
Xi kultant, nitħajjar nitfa ruħi għall-irkant;
Nagħmel patt ma’ xi dB jew xi Gasan,
Jew inkella, mal-mexxej, l-aqwa negozjant.

Mhux xorta?
X’fiha billi nilqgħu il-partit f’darna?
X’jimporta?
Mhux l-aqwa li mmorru l-fosos bi ħġarna?

Iżda, mhux dak hu l-messaġġ;
Minn dil-lejla siekta, nixtieq niehu vantaġġ.
Xtaqt neżamina għalfejn ninsab waħdi;
Qiegħed id-dar b’ommi u missieri sular taħti,
Iżda, minflok ninsab hawn, magħluq f’kamarti.
Mistoħbi, bl-iskuża li qiegħed noħloq l-arti.

Sħabi kollha xogħol jew isaħħarhom xi eżami,
B’hekk, ninsab nirrifletti, b’espressjoni gravi.
Fejn tobsor, li ta’ tlieta u għoxrin
Tkun weħilt go ħabs mentali agħar minn Kordin?
Ċella magħmula mill-ħsibijiet,
Joħorgu qishom ħalba mis-smewwiet.

Tgħix b’mohh mixgħul ġo pajjiż li jħobb id-dlam
Tħossok distint daqs tazza inbid aħmar li waqgħet *** l-irham.
Xi kultant, mejjet tkun biex titfieh;
Xejn ma jirnexxilek tagħmel biex tistrieh.

_________

(in English)

The solitude is incredible.
The pen shakes as I write,
An extension of my body's agitation.
I feel like a ruined fort, inacessible.
Sometimes, I fancy putting my soul up for auction;
Strike a deal with dB or Gasan (1),
Or maybe, with our leader, the best merchant (of them all).

Is it not all the same?
So what if we let the party in our household?
What does it matter,
As long as we go to il-Fosos (2), en masse?

But, that is not the message;
Of this quiet night, I'd like to take advantage.
I wanted to examine why I'm all alone;
I'm at home, with my parents a floor below me,
Yet, I find myself here, locked in my room,
Hidden, with the excuse of making art.

My friends are either working or bewitched by an exam,
Hence, I find myself reflecting, with a grave expression.
Who would've thought, at age twenty-three
I would be stuck in a mental prison worse than Kordin (3)?
A cell made of thoughts,
That come out like a storm from the heavens.

To live with an enlightened mind in a country that loves darkness
Feels as distinct as a glass of red wine spilled on a marble tile.
Sometimes, you just wish you could switch it off;
Nothing helps to give you relief.
1 = enormous local entities that have amassed wealth through the exploitation of my country and its people.
2 = a popular spot for political mass meetings in Floriana.
3 = an area in Paola where the local prison is.
THE Colonel went out sailing,
He spoke with Turk and Jew,
With Christian and with Infidel,
For all tongues he knew.
"O what's a wifeless man?' said he,
And he came sailing home.
He rose the latch and went upstairS
And found an empty room.
The Colonel went out sailing.
"I kept her much in the country
And she was much alone,
And though she may be there,' he said,
"She may be in the town.
She may be all alone there,
For who can say?' he said.
"I think that I shall find her
In a young man's bed.'
The Colonel went out sailing.

III
The Colonel met a pedlar,
Agreed their clothes to swop,
And bought the grandest jewelry
In a Galway shop,
Instead of thread and needle
put jewelry in the pack,
Bound a thong about his hand,
Hitched it on his back.
The Colonel wcnt out sailing.
The Colonel knocked on the rich man's door,
"I am sorry,' said the maid,
"My mistress cannot see these things,
But she is still abed,
And never have I looked upon
Jewelry so grand.'
"Take all to your mistress,'
And he laid them on her hand.
The Colonel went out sailing.
And he went in and she went on
And both climbed up the stair,
And O he was a clever man,
For he his slippers wore.
And when they came to the top stair
He ran on ahead,
His wife he found and the rich man
In the comfort of a bed.
The Colonel went out sailing.
The Judge at the Assize Court,
When he heard that story told,
Awarded him for damages
Three kegs of gold.
The Colonel said to Tom his man,
"Harness an *** and cart,
Carry the gold about the town,
Throw it in every patt.'
The Colonel went out sailing.

VII
And there at all street-corners
A man with a pistol stood,
And the rich man had paid them well
To shoot the Colonel dead;
But they threw down their pistols
And all men heard them swear
That they could never shoot a man
Did all that for the poor.
The Colonel went out sailing.

VIII
"And did you keep no gold, Tom?
You had three kegs,' said he.
"I never thought of that, Sir.'
"Then want before you die.'
And want he did; for my own grand-dad
Saw the story's end,
And Tom make out a living
From the seaweed on the strand.
The Colonel went out sailing.
A L Davies Dec 2011
i)
moving a couch:
our labour pained
by darkened skies.

ii)
smoky room and the long long couch
-- freshly moved,
a multi-hued curvy affair of fabrics, orange & salmon
my old man, the artist & i all sit, cigarettes between fingers
talking.
gives us two paintings, his, for the help.
sitting in the livingroom now while they
talk &
looking out onto the street
clicking a lamp on & off.
two girls see the light blinking,
look up,
wave for me.
so i go down the steps and they ask
if i *know
the artist. if i paint??
"i play with words."
--won't i please read them something??
having moved the couch just then, i read them "couch"
-- poem of the summer previous
(furniture on the brain?)
wringing their hands they use words like
great !
enveloping !
eclectic pittr-patt'ring of your words !
-- at this turn away, quoting b. dylan:
"it's very tiring having other people tell you how much they dig you."
instead of standing in the doorway offer
to buy them
                      coffee.
(they greedily accept sans even a blink -- the leeches!)
make 'em wait while i light another cigarette.
& once in cafe
they don't have much of interest to say so
i take my cup and go
sit on the artist's roof.
        
      dig that
          sunset ! ...
two for de price of 1
Ian J Caldwell Aug 2014
Pitter patter of the rainy view from my porch
Cars wiz by, some with urgency like there is really somewhere to be
The rain splashes a cool mist upon my feet that's oh so refreshing
The sun fighting hard to burst through the line of clouds,
Maybe hoping to help turn this gloominess around,
Pitter patter

Pitter Patter of the rain falling hard
The aroma of fresh coffee steaming from my cup
Flowers lie in wait to gain what they need to bloom again
Clouds zoom by as the rain tries to slow
Pitter patter

Pitter patter of the rain as it slides down the smooth surface of fresh growing tomatoes,
A pink yard flamingo hiding behind the vines
The newspaper sits in a plastic bag as it waits to be put inside
It feels like the world is barely awake or maybe it's just me,
There are so many feelings to feel and sights to see
But good morning rain!
You are welcome
You are welcome from the place that you fell from
The sound of rain dissipates as the sun shines near

Pitter patter
Pitter patt
Pitter pa
Pitter
Pitt
Pi
A view from my porch one morning.
Sharina Saad Apr 2013
Hundred Things To say.....

I just need one more day..
Before we really break away..
we have chosen our ways...
But there is no reason to keep things that way
Let me clear everything anyway...

Remember the promise we’ve made?
To love completely from the day we met?
But you fell in the arms of unfaithful *****...
You were with Katt and then with your girlfriend Patt..
Think I’d rather feel sorry for you than mad...

Its ok.. I will survive..
Well.. look I am still alive..
You have new game new toy for another season..
I am saying good bye now do I need a reason?

Your love changes in any seasons..
You are running away without solid reasons..
Hundred words of lies are your reasons..
Stay for a while and try to listen...
I have hundreds of things to say..
Before we break away....
Listen, I dont love you anymore.. . anyway...
Michael John  Jan 2022
i am not
Michael John Jan 2022
i am not
a pipe or ***
a monkey or sot
a dash or dot
a little or lot
a babe in a cot
why,when,or what
cold or hot
living rot
a distinct blot..

i am on the other
a fair listener
a brother
a sister
a mother
a father
further
nearer
hand sand
a magic wand
canned and
desparate dan
an avid reader
exotic and bland
black and tan
ollie and stan..

i don´t care much
for twits or aircraft
kits
wits
twix
that´s untrue
small bits
of stuff
too tedious to
go into
fascinate..

i am old and
young
i am dead and
gone
i am an acorn
a pagan
a lucky stone
amid seven billion
odd and even
i don´t hate
this seems strange
hate is healthy
like love
i worry
if i can´t hate
what..

i am musical
this is all
for me
i played the guitar
immedietly
and cant stop!
a top or head
the little girl beside
me was so enamoured
she said she would be my girl
friend
i started playing the
penny whistle at thirty
and harmonica some time
after
and then the violin and
drum in spain
the mandolin is fun..

i read poetry for thirty
year
before putting pen to
paper
sometimes i wish i
had not bothered
and sometimes i
am glad..
sad and
mad..

it is a point
but less
an ing with a
bless
i sky
i am at
sea
a bull
a lull
a sea gull
sea gulls..!!

i can tell you
something about
sea gulls
but what is the
point
i am resisting
smoke
i am empty
and full
i loathe thats
ok
killing time
bats are col
or cool or perhaps
anything that can
fly
loathe is somehow
lithe..
i like hats..

cats
rats
bats
fats
waller

cosy flats
welcome mats
pitter patt
rain in the
small wee hours
flowers

not so much
less a point
today i was thinking just
how worse
can it be
i think about the generation
lost in the first world
war
to die so young..
i got three books at the boot
sale or two, one is the prose
of pushkin
i like to read a short story
at breakfast
and something by the author
of cathy come home..homeless in
the uk in the sixties..
it puzzles me that the
richest country in the world
for a long time, had such
poverty..

but it does not pay to
dwell on such pain
i got three dvds-
some how an end
begins-
i watched marlene
ditrich as
a powerful russian queen..
clever trevor
and nina hagan
i can reccomend..
and jack london
the short stories there
of..
love is a suitable
finale..

— The End —