"discoveries" poems
It's elementary, my dear
This bittersweet affection that I feel
From one boy to the next I grew
Ladder rungs of broken hearts
First grade
Blonde hair and disarming smile
Recess games and hallway passes
A note in a diary and minutes spent giggling
Never talking, always watching
Fourth grade
Glasses frame of brown hair and thin shoulders
Curious enigma to come and go
A bit more literate diary entrees
One year of crossed legs and shy smiles
Fifth grade
A growing tree of lean muscle and blue eyes
Short brown hair and a charming grin
Side by side on a rubber track
Gray skies and sweet goodbyes
A bright dance floor and a shattered heart
Miserable nights and heartbreak songs
Seventh grade
Long dark hair and chocolate eyes
This spring has brought a strange surprise
Wiry muscle and soft cheeks
Once admired, then adored
An ongoing thrum of sweet affection
Sidelong glances and gym class stares
New discoveries and quiet realization
Girl can love girl
Tenth grade
A firecracker packed with mysterious boys
And an enigmatic girl
A bomb in the summer sky
Spelling new names, new faces, new hearts
A whisper of 'I love you' at long last returned
Names carved on my ribs and pulling my lips
A tightened chest never felt so good
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC
Look in the mirror
Look at the clock
Look at the time
It never has stopped
It only goes forward
It's a one way walk
See how you have been growing
You ask yourself, "where have the days been going?"
Time can only progress
Yes, the river of life is always flowing
We lived cabins
And castles and caves
We came from Adam and eve
We evolved from apes
From Socrates and Homer
To Napoleon and Alexander the Great
The minds that desired knowing
And the enlightened ones glowing
People can only advance
Yes the river of life is always flowing
Revolutions and rebellions
Riots and revolts
Great discoveries
A key, a kite and a lightning bolt
Great writings and inventions
Innovations from inspiring jolts
Improvement was showing
To the future the world was going
Humanity only began to develop
Yes the river of life is always flowing
Religions and sciences
Economics and politics
Television and radio
Monarchies and dictatorships
Tanks and machine guns
Atomic bombs and battle ships
We went from arrow shooting and spear throwing
The muskets needed reloading
To nuclear weapons
Yes the river of life is always flowing
Exploring new lands
To find the world wasn't flat
To find silver and gold
And buried artifacts
To establish new territories
And expand the map
The searching ship kept rowing
As civilization went on growing
Accomplishments of the past
Yes the river of life is always flowing
Boats and rail roads
Fair trade and industry
World wide markets
Over land and sea
To keep out nations going
And stablize the economy
But now every country has money that they're owing
And the land that they're owning
Is has evolved
Yes the river of life is always flowing
Social reforms
Counter cultures fight
They protest strongly
For equal civil rights
The world's in constant change
Every day turns into night
Every opening has its closing
And then it comes back again
As long as there's someone hoping
Yes the river of life is always flowing
We put people into space
We have fought for equality
Created a world from nothing
And advanced technology
We've struggle to go to where we are
And continue to go strongly
The opportunities fate has been bestowing
We look forward to see what is ahead
The memories and mysteries the hourglass is holding
Yes the river of life is always flowing
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 2:40 PM UTC
On days, when time is going too fast,
I can't catch up, and there're things i can't get past,
I'd pull a chair at the verandah....just sit there
To witness, the gentler goings on in life...
See, how...why all plants face towards the sun,
On a dimly lit corner, watch a spider patiently spin its web,
Underneath the gravel and green grass, somehow,
The earthworm, painstakingly, bravely emerges,
Finds its way out of the soil...to remind us,
"...soil is healthy....it's time to plant!"
:::::
I feel, the beetle knows me, as it inches on,
Carrying its own body, crawling down the pine tree,
I won't ever grasp it, nor tie a string on its body
To control its range of movement,
As we do to tethered beasts of burden...
:::::
While sitting there, i decide: by all means,
Towards the flower *** i lean
Take time to smell a rose, feel its rough leaf
Not just a quick touch and sniff
But hold its thorny body, without daring to blink
While deep within, i'd let its fragrance sink
:::::
Some early evenings
When the cicadas' music are echoing
And the moths have started flying
Circling round the light at the ceiling,
I am warned...soon, it will be raining
And.....when it starts to rain, i keep listening
Til i'm soothed by the sound of rain...falling,
From sky to treetops.....flowing...landing
Next to the leaves......cascading down
To the concrete ground
Spreading quickly, far and deep...and as fate,
As nature would have it....the soil, without fail, waits...
:::::
Long time ago, we were small,
Curious and brave, we tasted glory, and all,
Armed with a child's innocence
And an insatiable hunger for learning...
Our eyes, our minds dilated,
Our brains were like sponge...
Like the soil.....we absorbed
All, that we discovered...
:::::
Sally
Copyright December 1, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 3:28 PM UTC
and
that backseat "love" lasted only as long as the night
as the memories rush in that morning try as i might
to keep you outta my mind, you're holed in there tight
a battle between "love" and lust...(hint) love lost the fight.
we
caused kisses shared between those wet rival lips
and bare skin touching, form a feeling at these hips
down unbuttoned jeans that your small hand slips
hear that sound, like tearing, as our "innocence" strips.
*******
formed foggy windows from our skin we shared
and dissolved to nothing, ha, like we ever cared
discoveries made at night shed light on how we faired
the sounds of "love" from my speaker actually blared
(lust)
.
Dec 27, 2011
Dec 27, 2011 at 1:57 AM UTC
# *I hadn’t meant to spy
just an evening’s walk along the beach
knowing that things are sometimes strewn there after storms
between a gust of wind—a break in clouds
Coming upon moonlight
gleaming on wet teenage backs
Two—
by a leaning erosion fence
fondling the last discoveries of childhood
fumbling with the barriers of her bikini
behind the erosion fence
out of sight and forbidding
Breeding like sea grass by rhizomes
prowling that neck, those *******
Gasping! Warring!
for the land of white warmth below their tans
His hands grip, lift, position, insist
By such undertow
mouths and hips pinioned in disbelief...
where they cannot be seen
two half-rounds in rhythm – struggle in the surge of being
as the surf binds them in refrains
about the ankles* #
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 9:48 PM UTC
The farthest man made object in space, Voyager 1,
is over 20 billion km away from Earth.
On board is a phonograph record, brilliant gold,
containing sounds and images of what life is like on earth,
A message to whoever is able to listen, a literal shot in the dark.
On it is an inscription that is perhaps the most beautiful sentence
I have ever read
TO THE MAKERS OF MUSIC
ALL TIMES
ALL WORLDS
a time capsule, a gift, from us
To anywhere and everywhere
A hundred years from now or a thousand
Our belief that no matter what time
Or world you belong to, melody and harmony and rhythm, can bring us together, can communicate.
On the cover
Are figures, explaining how to operate this record
Hieroglyphics from what by then
Would be ancient history
Messages in binary, the 1s and 0s
Our position in the universe marked by our distances
from gigantic pulsars, the star map to our home,
the creators of this message
There's beauty in this marriage of math and art
Code and music
As a way to communicate with the universe.
Some of the images on the record are
the most beautifully simple ones,
Of us, humans, drinking and eating, laughing,
of animals, nature, food and architecture.
Then there are images of our scientific observations,
mathematical calculations, our discoveries,
Like a child showing off
Look, look what I can do!
Black and white and in colour,
Pictures, proof that we, indeed have lived and achieved.
The music, classical, our very best from Bach and Mozart
to Blind Willie Johnson's Dark was the Night.
But all of this can only matter, can come to fruition
if someone exists to receive it, and is evolved enough
to comprehend what it means.
But that's the thing, everybody knows,
That's there's a slim chance of this record ever being heard,
and it's much more possible that the Voyager will simply end up as floating debris in the cosmos, but it doesn't matter!
We just want someone to know that there was a species of bipedal, intelligent animals on this blue planet,
no different than finding graffiti in alleys that read I WAS HERE.
WE WERE HERE, WE EXISTED.
And it's all about that hope, the hope that someone will see us,
our pictures, listen to our languages, our greetings, our music, and remember us, even after we're long gone.
Or perhaps we will one day be interstellar space faring people as well, following the path of the Voyager, doing what we do best,
Explore.
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 9:32 AM UTC
I pride,
In many things.
Little and big.
Existing and imaginary.
Useful and unnecessary.
Almost ubiquitously.
I take pride in my mind, most of all.
In the many wonders it brings me.
It lets me wave
at the voyagers that zip by
as I swim,
weightless and cold
in the eternal stardust of would bes.
It lets me simmer
in the memory of a younger day.
Of all the loves loved
and the ones lost
I pride the ones that never gave way.
Like old paintings
stowed away deeply
fragments,
moving,
ageing effortlessly.
I take pride in the fact that I have one true friend
and not many.
I don't know why I take pride in it though
I would understand culling a herd, if I had any.
I take pride in a soul that has learnt to love so deeply.
Deeper than the rivers of the world
and tumultuous as the sea
I take pride in my dog, sitting
when I command it.
I take pride in the fact that,
At least he understands it.
I take pride in the words that I think
and regret the ones I don't.
I take pride in understanding the existence of truth
and its relentless need to run and hide away.
I take pride in my people
and in their endless rebellion against sanity.
I take pride in their manic displays of affection
despite their distaste for the same affectations.
I take pride in their synchronized entropy,
beautiful,
much like the death of a galaxy.
I take pride in the songs I hear,
the sonnets of love and despair.
of first discoveries,
and fevered dreams.
Of Kings and conquerors
and knights against the regime.
Of their legends that soar and rise and
go beyond where the grave lies.
I take pride in the mirror.
Though broken and shattered beyond repair
it bestows me with honesty
about the one that I care.
I take pride in all these aberrations,
in these tiny little manipulations.
These effervescent little marionettes
forever dancing within constellations.
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 11:30 PM UTC
it was the Cubist who created the space and color that
everywhere today assails our eyes
in uniform architecture and monotonous
design; the various branches of modern art
through tedious & exhaustive experiment
& research creating a massive cultural sinkhole
whose banal discoveries unveil for all the sameness
of form, line and color;
Quote from Gorky's 'Camouflage', 1942: I like the heat;
the tenderness; the edible; the lusciousness;
the song of a single person
in a bathtub full of water.
I like Ucello, Grunewald, Ingres,
the drawings and sketches for paintings
of Seurat and that man Pablo Picasso;
I measure all things by weight.
In text for MoMA, describing the 'Garden in Sochi' - series,
26 June 1942
I love Mougouch, Gorky's wife. What about papa Cézanne;
I like the wheat fields, the plow, the apricots,
those flirts of the sun. And bread above all.
My lever is the purple; About 194 feet away
from our house in Armenia on the road to the
spring my father had a little garden with
a few apple trees which had retired
from giving fruit;
this garden was identified as the _'Garden of Wish Fulfillment'_
often I had seen my mother and the other village women
exposing their naked bosoms, taking the soft,
dependable ******* in their hands &
rubbing them on the rocks; above all this
standing an enormous tree all bleached
under the sun, rain & cold, deprived of leaves.
This was the Holy Tree [quoted in 1942]
In text for MoMA, describing the 'Garden in Sochi' - series,
26 June 1942
I don't like that word 'finished'.
When something is finished,
that means it's dead, doesn't it?
I believe in everlastingness;
I never finish a painting – I just stop
working on it for a while.
I like painting because it's something
I can never come to the end of;
sometimes I paint a picture,
then I paint it all out. Sometimes
I'm working on fifteen or twenty
pictures at the same time; I do that
b/c I want to – b/c I change my
mind so often; The thing to do is
always to keep starting to paint;
never finishing the painting [quoted in 1948]
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 4:39 PM UTC
Refreshment, in form king size bed
Big fluffy pillows, sink disheveled head
Silken other body touching beside
Night's dreamless comfort, into it did glide
How exist delusion, tranquil pie in sky
Consulting limbs, spooning of thighs
Imprecise discoveries, feeling more at ease
Theories both wound in bed, confidently pleased
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 9:48 AM UTC
may the way that gives way to this accord of may be in awe of truth and not the fruits of disarray
I shall be meditating upon the roads travelled and many discoveries gather that I have unravelled
I shall curl my high excitements and misguided ambitions to unfurl what the calls of the wise unfurl and admonish
In the mist amidst the tricking twists of fits and false gists, may I hold up fists that will seize to desist and delete the disease of fallacy in curtailed wit
In the shadows dark, some pale
may I not fade into the tales of lies and manipulative games
In the guise of dames so modern and fabulously inclined to fame,
may I guage and carry my animosity into the mystery of my identity where only the genuine and real can relate
In the encounters with material and all that deters from the mystic and ethereal,
I hope to remember the real surreal to surmise the reels of fantasy thrills in graphic frills and euphonic trills
However the gigantic systems of the world in money, greed, vanity or lust, may doctor sickness into the souls of the lost and weak:
may my heart remain meek and my vision bright and led by the lens of the soul....
With or without I pray not as a religious pilgrim but a sage seeking neverending Light... ever the more grateful, harnessing the grapes of creation, worshiping a servant's code in humility.
hustling about this rash hassle of life overshadowed by pyramids and castles
remaining true to the cause even when temptation is endlessly bustling about
remember remember the hustle when you were down and out without
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
We embark on a new journey,
Let our travels never end,
Keep us heading in the same direction,
Though the track may sometimes bend,
Let happiness be our destination,
Let our trademark be a smile,
Let us enjoy every footstep,
Not begrudge a single mile,
Let us revel in new discoveries,
Greet each fresh dawn with pleasure,
Let us find our inner-wealth and know ...
The true meaning of treasure.
Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017 at 2:25 PM UTC
enfolded in
your abundant legs
i find all the good
things etched
on the surface
of your
skin
like an egyptian
relief painting
you are worth
enough tears
to flood the nile
and re-write the
way the marsh unfolds
like the way i found you:
verdant discoveries
on sundays
and new ways
to say shadane
pragmatic star girl
i add your name
to my mental thesarus
like a new favorite
word
adoring and
absorbing your
lower-case
expressions
like second
nature
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 9:50 PM UTC
Dear Poet Friends, I hope you like this slice of Early History presented
below in simple verse. Please do read the short notes at the end, before giving your comments. Thanks, - Raj
ARCHIMEDES : THE PIONEERING
STREAKER OF HISTORY!
There lived in the Third Century BC, in the Sicilian
town of Syracuse, then a Greek colony,
A Greek mathematician named Archimedes.
He was tasked by King Hiero of his town,
To find the purity of gold in his crown;
Suspicious of the goldsmith having mixed
some material of inferior kind,
Which the King wanted Archimedes to find!
So, Archimedes lost in thought one day,
Entered the public bath on his way!
And as his body began to get submerged,
He happened to notice perchance,
Water spilling over from the tub!
The answer suddenly flashed across his
mind,
And he jumped up leaving everything
behind,
Wearing only his birthday suit,
Running through the street of Syracuse,
Exclaiming - “Eureka! Eureka!”
(I have found it! I have found it!)
Perhaps to become the first known streaker
of History!
While establishing the Principles of Buoyancy!
@ (see notes)
Archimedes, son of the astronomer Pheidias,
studied at the great Alexandrian city,
Remembered even to this day for his many
pioneering works, -
In Hydrostatics, Mechanics, and Geometry.
With his ingenious mechanical discoveries,
He held the great Roman galleys of Marcellus
at bay,
For more than three years, as Plutarch the
Roman Historian says! + (see notes)
Later one day, while lost in deep thought,
When some intricate problem of geometry
he was trying to resolve,
Refused to hear Marcellus' bidding,
To be slain by the Roman soldiers who had
come to fetch him!
O those Romans, with lesser brains and more
brawn!
And some hundred and thirty years after
his death in 75 BC,
Cicero, then the Roman Governor of Sicily,
Found the tomb of great Archimedes, near the
Agrigentine Gate, over grown with bushes and
thorns;
Where he lay buried in the scented dust of History!
- Raj Nandy, New Delhi.
NOTES:
@ Principle of Buoyancy = any floating object displaces its own
weight of fluid. So weight displaced by a crown of pure gold and
the one already made could be compared to find the truth!
+ Archimedes designed large stone throwers, & crossbows, and
also grappling hooks using large cranes to grab Roman ships and
capsize them!
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 9:04 AM UTC
peeress: a woman holding the rank of a peer in her own right.
what tools fo you require?
a microscope, binoculars, perhaps an observatory telescope...
you ask to peer into my soul,
the heart of the matter,
and I object
not,
asking only for a workman's wages,
of honest preparation,
have you the tools to see me properly,
and when you love what you see,
will you have them by your side
to see the future close by,
and so far ahead?
do you possess within thy
secret places,
an archeological brush
to wipe gently away my ancient earths,
or a toy red shovel to remove fossilized
10,000 year old grains of old hearts,
or fresh, damp from this morning,
of words and sand from my inner
beach, even then, the tonnage may
require an industrial excavator
to clear, hold and perhaps contain
all that poetry, all that love that it contains,
so I ask, you, myself:
*Do you have the proper tools,
the necessaries and the necessities,
to find to store to relish and to delight
in what you may find?*
be an explorer,
and write of all your discoveries,
hurry, for the word
time
means in soul terms & the heart's specialized verbiage,
never enough
so girl scout/ mademoiselle peeress
you s t i l l
have much to assay/essay/uncover
re the meanings of love...
for there is as much to learn from the
quietus of love,
as there is, from the vibrant tumbling of
climbing to new heights
peer carefully...
5:44am
Wed Sep 10
Twenty Twenty Five
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 9:28 AM UTC
superb partaking of private delicacies
yet always keeping track of the skyline
keeping senses alert, never fully falling
I allow myself to get hurt each time that skyline changes
not because I enjoy the pain
but there's just something about you I'm not willing to lose, not that easily
so, I swallow ******* and suppress the ego and take the whipping words readily
whatever it takes
there may come a relinquishing moment when I can just give and let it all flow
free fall, like a kite almost
but for now, when shadows may come and place arms round the heavens
****** sun rays from abode and kiss the air into a messy cloudburst
and leave the sky taut with approaching footfalls of fiery thunder claps
I take it all and want it no other way
I accept the paradox fully
the pattern has been set
it is consistent
this mega beautiful skyline over me hovers so discreet in plain sight yet blind to all
I see the veins on the back of your hand, and blood veering sideways towards impossible thoughts
yes
a line upon the horizon tells me never fear
a stringent fire walk simply tests the mettle coil
discoveries in life confirm nobody is alone
as deep and low as it gets sometimes
the highs, oh! the highs outfly the roof
take what you need from life now and from me
yet take your sweet time
until the day I see your eyes reflected in that skyline
and your lamp beckoning on, into this frame
your skyline tastes so good
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 5:12 AM UTC
Mining we do
for survival and art..
repeating processes
both ancient and modern..
beginnings are quiet
seeded by necessity..
badgers dig holes
earthen tunnels and paths
powerful digging discoveries
sustaining of life..
coal miners diggings
dark labor below
planting cities above..
data mining
a technology
new in our time
computer's patterns emerging
never before seen..
startling creation
of many new
wholes...
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 5:13 PM UTC
This is not Love, perhaps,
Love that lays down its life,
that many waters cannot quench,
nor the floods drown,
But something written in lighter ink,
said in a lower tone, something, perhaps, especially our own.
A need, at times, to be together and talk,
And then the finding we can walk
More firmly through dark narrow places,
And meet more easily nightmare faces;
A need to reach out, sometimes, hand to hand,
And then find Earth less like an alien land;
A need for alliance to defeat
The whisperers at the corner of the street.
A need for inns on roads, islands in seas,
Halts for discoveries to be shared,
Maps checked, notes compared;
A need, at times, of each for each,
Direct as the need of throat and tongue for speech.
2.8k
An eternal hunting ground
Of memories
Fresh with the day's discoveries
Thrown all around
Buried in the depths
Only when being orgnaized
Are the puzzle pieces found.
A fragment here
A shard there
Broken dreams hidden in the mysterious shroud of
Splattered blue
Only when the messy discard of thoughts is organized
Can the door to the future
Be formed
From misellaneous thoughts
Collectively pointing down the right path
Nov 17, 2012
Nov 17, 2012 at 4:27 PM UTC
It's in the morning, at the rise of the sun, when memories float back to you and the remnants of your smile from last night reappears in the soreness of your cheeks and the tightening of your jaw where beauty manifests itself throughout nature.
From the distant tolling of church bells, tolling away in their perfect habitual melody, to the sounds of lovers silently waking one another and relishing at the sounds of their respected voices.
Its in this moment that the dream and reality mesh with one another. Never truly revealing which is which leaving you in a blissful ignorance peppered with false hopes and beautiful truths.
Its through the fog of your alcohol addled mind that a light appears and guides you to wonders untold, leading to a discovery of discoveries revealing a magic long lost to this universe.
Down the neck of a dark blue bottle lined with platinum flows my intuition and aspiration. Its now that i drink and discover a new reality.
Namaste.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 5:28 AM UTC
The world we make
Is a safe place to fall from
Spiraling into one another
Our souls orbit like Saturn's moons
Drawn by an irresistible gravity
The world we make
Is a journey most never experience
An adventure full of new discoveries
And unexplained connections
Guiding us toward one another
The world we make
Is familiar and foreign
A home for healing hearts
And building dreams
From the fractured pieces
Broken and beautiful
Raw and rare
Faith and fear
Grace and gratitude
Ours
Jun 20, 2021
Jun 20, 2021 at 9:04 PM UTC
You began as a dream
Dreamt by leaders with vision
Evolving to surpass
All of man's wildest ambition...
With adventurous men
Like Shepherd and Glenn
You stubbornly strove
To prove, once again
Beyond any doubt
That bounderies could be broken...
Despite mishap and fire
Alas, you did inspire
A generation to dream...
From Mercury to Apollo
The world, it did follow
Your steady pace
To Tranquility Base...
Via Viking and Voyager
Your efforts did prove
That exploration of the universe
Was well on the move...
To Mars, Jupiter, Saturn and Neptune...
You tenaciously endeavored
To, your accomplishments, festoon...
Your progress was sure
As you strove to endure
The incessent chatter
Of the grossly short-sighted
Their nonsense did clatter
Proving they were poorly enlightened...
With untold discoveries
Like non-stick surfaces and airtight seals
Through your numerous breakthroughs
You've shown us how it feels
To live better...
From Columbia to Hubbel
You've saved us great trouble
In our daily lives...
With your Space Station mission
You've shown the same vision
And, continue to lead in gaining cognition
Of our universe...
Lead on, great adventurers
Lead on.
Nov 1, 2010
Nov 1, 2010 at 6:35 PM UTC
Eyes glancing over terms
For which I care not
Mind trying to memorize
Definitions of things
So small you cannot see
With the human eye
If I could do anything else
I would
But no choice has been given to me
I must learn
What I have been told
And nothing else
Why can't we learn
Things no one ever thinks of
Why can't we figure out
Why spontaneous generation
Doesn't exist
For ourselves
Or write
Whatever we want
And explore what works
And what doesn't
Instead what we discover
Has been laid out for us
A skeleton of information
Today's form of education
Why must we do things we hate
And waste our precious time on things we don't care about
When we could focus on
Something we are passionate for
And could become successful at
No child who is passionate about swimming
Is going to revolutionize the world of construction
No one who loves cooking
Is going to change the finical industry
People will go above and beyond
What is asked of them
If they love
What they do
So why don't we let them?
The world would have amazing increases and discoveries
In every field
So many people wouldn't hate their jobs
Or their co-workers
If they were all enthusiastic about their career
If we allowed people to focus
On their passions
But
We don't
So
My eyes glance over the terms
For which I care not
Mind trying to memorize
Definitions of things
So small you cannot see
With the human eye
If I could do anything else
I would
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 5:27 PM UTC
A-Artifacts of long ago they're ever searching out
R-Relics in the Earth's soil layers interred deep
C-Curios from cultures past they're excavating out
H-History is alive in the things buried so deep
A-Abroad and at home their trowels seeking out
E-Enlightening the world with fragments of the deep
O-Open our eyes to the objects they shovel out
L-Lasting stories of past societies entombed down deep
O-Ongoing discoveries made with what they dig out
G-Great civilizations lie in quietness beneath the deep
I-Interesting journals and facts these specialists put out
S-Saving the ken of ancestries which are lodged deep
T-Times way back in eons past to-day bought out
S-Surfacing from the ground out of a sleep most deep
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC