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When a passing cloud might meet another and together unleash Lightning On thirsting ground our significant spark Strikes Bone-brittle tinder buoyed by the quiet breeze, an ember smolders until Evening wind blows, carries, smoking wisps upon its wings into the forest Sighs into crackling summer leaves until the canopy burns So take note of every passing cloud, because you never know
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Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 10:50 AM UTC
m-eastman
You Never know - Ellen Hopkins
When a passing cloud might meet another and together unleash Lightning On thirsting ground our significant spark Strikes Bone-brittle tinder buoyed by the quiet breeze, an ember smolders until Evening wind blows, carries, smoking wisps upon its wings into the forest Sighs into crackling summer leaves until the canopy burns So take note of every passing cloud, because you never know
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If I were Newland Archer What would I now do with my love? Would I torment  her, ask impossible things, Surrender to her irrational command And let the others make my future plans? Oh no! My beloved Ellen was wrong! To think that I could stay the course, That marriage could end like a closing door, And leave the future in May’s serpentine hands. This time, if such a chance were given me, What would I do to make safe our love? I would give up all I had thought so dear, My frivolous books, effete pursuits, so she could be near. I was unworthy, the first time, I know. I consented to her feeling that I must go. But now I would re-arrange my life, dare any disdain Just to kiss her wrist in unfounded faith. Would I again leave my Love if told to choose? No! I was weak before, thinking that I had no chance. Yes, oh, yes! How could I ever bear to lose My Ellen and our enchanted dance? I know I have wronged those who trusted me, But don’t blame the unwitting authoress of my woe! For it was my own frailty that blinded me, My disregard for those things that Any man with a heart should know. I see now that if to May’s wish I did not bend, She would see my surrender was great to me but small to her, She would find another, as resolute women do under duress. And instead of a false life, Ellen, I could be alive with you!                                     ------------------------- Written if Newland Archer (of the novel "Age of Innocence") had listened to no one and abandoned not only the wife who shanghaied him into domestic servitude, but his own priggish insistence on doing the “right” thing for the wrong reasons. Semi-finished, June 19, 2011 Sharon Talbot
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Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 11:35 AM UTC
sharon-talbot
If I were Newland Archer
If I were Newland Archer What would I now do with my love? Would I torment  her, ask impossible things, Surrender to her irrational command And let the others make my future plans? Oh no! My beloved Ellen was wrong! To think that I could stay the course, That marriage could end like a closing door, And leave the future in May’s serpentine hands. This time, if such a chance were given me, What would I do to make safe our love? I would give up all I had thought so dear, My frivolous books, effete pursuits, so she could be near. I was unworthy, the first time, I know. I consented to her feeling that I must go. But now I would re-arrange my life, dare any disdain Just to kiss her wrist in unfounded faith. Would I again leave my Love if told to choose? No! I was weak before, thinking that I had no chance. Yes, oh, yes! How could I ever bear to lose My Ellen and our enchanted dance? I know I have wronged those who trusted me, But don’t blame the unwitting authoress of my woe! For it was my own frailty that blinded me, My disregard for those things that Any man with a heart should know. I see now that if to May’s wish I did not bend, She would see my surrender was great to me but small to her, She would find another, as resolute women do under duress. And instead of a false life, Ellen, I could be alive with you!                                     ------------------------- Written if Newland Archer (of the novel "Age of Innocence") had listened to no one and abandoned not only the wife who shanghaied him into domestic servitude, but his own priggish insistence on doing the “right” thing for the wrong reasons. Semi-finished, June 19, 2011 Sharon Talbot
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