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I close my eyes
Silently I listen
A voice that's vanished
That will sound forever
The voice that will always slingshot
The poetic words
Of the nightingale
Into the world
For a second I start to dream
I forget
What I saw
When my eyes were still open

Ik sluit mijn ogen
Zwijgend luister ik
Een stem die is weggestorven
Die voor eeuwig zal klinken        
De stem die voor altijd
De poëtische woorden                  
Van de zanger                                  
De lucht inslingerd
Even droom ik weg
Vergeet ik
Wat ik zag
Toen mijn ogen nog open waren
Elioinai Jan 2015
in size
the earth is but a thought
passing through your mind
but you spoke a spark
and magnified in kind
the importance of this little park
to the words upon your tongue
none can fall or go to waste
the universe expansion just begun

slowly carving, you do not haste
the adolescence of a race
whose lives are flashes in a glass
Your countenance of tears
a God of suffering
a God of rain
the God who takes our pain
and forms it into golden coloring

Time, Love in action
is a forever forward dance
it never ends
and stretches on
like the twinkling light that bends
down to us from the stars
That God would choose to make that which could cause him grief, then absorb the pain and wreckage his creation has given themselves, is His great mystery. I love how God's love is shown in the book of John in the Bible.
Tryst Jan 2015
Dashing hither, dashing thither,
Dashing in the winter weather,
John the dashing haberdasher
Dashed a hat upon his head

Not some lace cap fit for ladies,
Nor a bonnet stitched for babies,
John the dashing haberdasher
Dashed a top hat there instead!

Never had a hat so fine,
So tall and silken, so refined,
Regaled upon the daily grind
Of prince or pauper in the Strand

Ladies stalled to see it's lustre,
Swooned and swayed before it's bluster,
Fell and fainted in a fluster,
Startled by a hat so grand!

Children screamed in dreadful fright
And yelping dogs began to bite
As crowds began to brawl and fight
And riots claimed the London street

In the chaos thus ensuing,
Folks began to run, pursuing
John the dashing haberdasher
Chasing him from Strand to Fleet!

John was taken to the prison,
Chided by the crowds derision,
There to wait the Mayor's decision
On his wanton heinous crime

Charged with breaching lawful peace,
He paid a fine for his release
And ordered to desist and cease,
He left his top hat well behind

Thus is told the tale of John
Who dared to bravely dash and don
A silken top hat high upon
His noble head in London town

Heed his tale and take this warning,
When you wake one winter morning
With desire to be less boring,
Careful how you dress that crown!
Poem based on an event that occurred this day in history.
John Hetherington, a London haberdasher, is reported to be the first person to wear a top hat, this event occurring on the 15th January 1797.  The event caused a riot with women fainting at the sight, children screaming and dogs yelping.  He was forced to pay a £500 bond for breach of the peace.

First published 15th January 2015, 06:20 AEST.
David W Clare Nov 2014
intro . . .
Have you ever noticed how many wild-guys out there through-out the world-over who have a wild-streak that are named Jim or James or Jimmy?
I mean take a look at the personalities of the many famous and not so famous men who are just a bit left-of-center and rebellious in nature.
For instance Jimmi Hoffa or take wild guitar man Jimmy Page or the great actor James Cagney or James Mason. Now consider Jimmi Stewart or James Garner.
What about everyones favorite spy James Bond. The wild genius of Jim Carrey. The old time character vaudvillian master Jimmy Durante. What about the historical
Jimmy-The-Greek. The rebellious outlaw Jesse James. What about the many musical legends like James Taylor or Jimmy Buffet. Who isn't amazed by the one and only
James Brown? What about Jim Morrison of The Doors or one-of-a-kind Jimi Hendrix. Then there's the wonder of James Dean himself - the ultimate hellion.
Well I wrote a song for them all... it's an original number called...  

Jimmy Rebel

by:  David Wayne Clare   aka David John clare

Hard Rockin' Country  (Rebellion Theme)

You've been upset for so long, at your dad, and at your sister
We heard your mom, she run and gone, well you're not sure to where but you know you'll miss her

Fed up with all the lies, never found true family ties
Not much, to leave behind, got some friends, but theyre not your kind


Well... Jimmy Rebel, meaner than the devil
His world is so hard to understand
Whoa... Jimmy Rebel, you got a score you got to settle
Youve taken all you can, stupid kid . . . brilliant man

You dont get pushed around, though people put you down,
Yeah, some would even throw rocks at you
You were born to speak out loud, without making any sound
Known by some ***** looks, a collection of scars, lifes true tattoos
You've lived the black and blues

Whoa... Jimmy Rebel, badder than the devil
This world's so hard to understand
Jimmy Rebel, you got a score you got to settle
Come on you know the plan, ugly boy... **** man

Feels like everybody hates you, yet you never run and hide
You're from a broken mobile home; yet your heart is double -wide
No matter how strange youre made to feel, you wont get pushed aside
Standing tall in a cruel crowd, not many a man could out survive
Out survive...

Jimi Rebel, stronger than the devil
some say...
Hes got the master plan
Jimmi Rebel
Gotta score you gotta settle
Now he knows they cant understand just what it is...
Yet I can...  yet I can... yes I can understand

Jimi Rebel

Stranger in a strange land
Viscous one deserves a medal
He knows they cant understand, just what it is...

Yet I can, Yes I  can, yes I can
YES... I  Can . . . .

D. CLARE   (c) In Perpetuity  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
JET-SET  21ST  CENTURY  PRODUCTIONS
Clairvoyant Music / BMI
Jimmy rebel theme
Aaron Mullin Dec 2014
Following les Beat en less path
A little mixed up
Yup

One sweet dream came true today
Came true today
Came true today (Yes it did)

One two three four five six seven
All good children go to Heaven
One two three four five six seven
All good children go to Heaven
One two three four five six seven
All good children go to Heaven
One two three four five six seven
All good children go to Heaven
One two three four five six seven
All good children go to Heaven
One two three four five six seven
All good children go to Heaven
One two three four five six seven
All good children go to Heaven
One two three four five six seven
All good children go to Heaven (fade out)


Where did the ring go?
Lyrics from You Never Give Me Your Money
Anastasia Webb Nov 2014
Writing
about writing
is pathetic,
so instead
I’ll write about that time
in March when we went
hiking along ridgetops and
firetrails, and the sun
baked the rocks hard and impassive
to our boots. The orange-and-white tracks
folded back upon
themselves and seemed
so illogical that we thought
somehow we were going
in circles
(round the Sun we missed
that one it felt like we
weren’t moving)

For lunch you had squished
peanut butter and
sardine sandwiches because
you’re odd and idiosyncratic
like that, and I had apples
and muesli bars because I’m
too lazy to make lunch
at 6 in the morning.
We ate on a huge rock
overlooking trees and Lucy
in the Sky with Diamonds
was
playing on the radio.
It felt as if we were two
enclosed in a small
self-erected hazecloud
where birds and lizards
and just breeze mingles
surprisingly well with John Lennon’s
recollections.

I remember the sun-scored rocks
had stored up warmth
from years of Marchdays like
today, they stayed warm slightly
longer than the air did.
We tasted each other’s
post-lunch mouths (you were
sardine and kind of gross)
and pretended like
our hands were ants,
scuttling aimlessly
(we had an aim)

I liked to think my fingers
were all elegant and smooth
as the moon.
I love you and I want
to make you happy here,
I love you and I want you
to make me happy here,
i should sleep – you should sleep –
we should sleep together.

I still remember that Marchday
when we went hiking and I’ve
written about it
dozens of times before in different
modes with other characters
but
to be honest I
don’t want to write about
anything else.
Prabhu Iyer Nov 2014
I set a paper rocket flyin', and it hurtled into space
breaking off gravity - all the way to Mars orbity!

Now everyone's surprised, coz a mere paper rag
flew up high and reached that rarefied lile where
only the costliest of junkets lounge leisurely by.

They said you're stupid, you got a paper twit to beg
and you've wampered even that away: how dares
a hungry haggard send missives down the skies?

I stand staring, starry eyed. This is an old squint,
that I got learning to look the other way as
my brothers starved and pottered on the streets
when cotton and coal funneled to Manchester leets.

But last heard, papa John's makin' paper boats
to swim by them snooty stars and there's a scramble
at my yards to get some ******* to the Moon.
As you like it
Wuji Seshat Oct 2014
If yet I have not all thy love
For loving is never enough
I must do more than pray
Both increased by gratitude

And the desire to love more
If yet I have not all thy love
I thought, dream it, enjoy it
I cannot deny, I share it

Fiercely and without restraint
If yet I have not all they love
I who am so little wise, so humble
So simple, deare perhaps I

Shall never have thee all
My stature was made small by
Nature, my wit outbid by
More generous fates, my time

More short and partial to trials
If yet I have not all they love
Be it said that love’s riddles were
Unpublishable to me, triumphs

As if out of reach, treasures
Undeserved, comforts unmet
If yet I have not all they love
Do not bargain but say farewell

Deare, well I know, I shall never
Have all of thee, never know thy
Full heart, love doth every day admit
The worthy choice of my lost destiny.
Searching through the archives
of - my family tree.
Struggling through the mislaid vaults
of ge-ne-ology.

Personal contemplation
on what might come to light.
With so much work before me.
I study through the night.

Lines that take me nowhere
all scramble through your head
but curiosity pushes you
as you study - the 'long' dead.

Suddenly things come to a light,
new relation leads
that push you through the lonely night
and sow so many seeds.

Will it be - Maud Plantaginet
who'll set me to the stars
a Sir, an Earl or Baroness
all Great Grandpa's or Ma's.

A close link to a Tudor King
of whom it's often said
that if he doesn't fancy you,
you could well lose your head.

Henry Three, Henry Two,
King John and Henry One.
Many times Great-Granddads
and the list - goes on and on.

William the Con-queror
and someone very quaint,
Ma-tilda Von Ringelheim,
she's an - Eigth Century Saint.

Has all the work been paying off?
Will the journey - be of worth?
For who knows who - we're related too
who has also walked this earth
As well as writing poetry I have a passion to learn about my ancestors.
I have had some success although I still need to thoroughly confirm the information collated. My continuous family link is to Jane Boleyn, she is the sister of Thomas Boleyn (1st Earl of Wiltshire) He is the father of Anne Boleyn. She married Henry VIII King of England becoming his Queen (Later to be executed by him). If this is as I believe, the case then that would make Henry VIII the husband of my 1st cousin, 13 times removed. Or should I say Ex-husband. How cool is that and more interestingly what (or who) else is to come?
October 2014
Silence Screamz Oct 2014
In the bag of death he lay,
all zipped up, here to stay.

Upon his toe, there hangs a tag,
Dead on Arrival, lies on the slab.

Eyes closed shut, red everywhere.
Taken away,  nobody cares.

His pain is gone, he cries no more.
Silence is simple, down to the core.

Shot in the chest, wouldn't you know?
Another victim is gone named John Doe.
About the senseless killings on our city streets around the nation.   Stop the violence.
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