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Poetry
How do I love Thee

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,--I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1770-1850)



Shall I Compare Thee

Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
Thou are more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And Summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd:
But thy eternal Summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616)

She Walks in Beauty

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Lord Byron (1788-1824)

I found these popular poems at
passionup.com



THE ADDICTION

Everyone is plagued by fears and my fear is addictions,
To be hooked on anything is the mother of afflictions.
A multitude of smokers
go through the quitting bit,
And only a small percentage ever have the will to quit.
For example there's alcoholics who battle every day,
To gather up the strength to push that drink away,
This country's hard drug users pose a problem very real,
Even descent folks one hooked will lie, cheat or steal.
Then one day this accusation was made by my wife,
That my computer and the internet dominates my life,
 To obviate her claim drastic measures must be taken,
My computer, I knew, must regretfully be forsaken.
I checked off the internet, my screen was dark and dreary,
I pulled the plug on my old friend, with feelings sad and teary.
 I knew I wasn't addicted, It was just a habit only,
But why all the emptiness, I'd never been so lonely.
 I lasted over three weeks but couldn't stretch to four,
I couldn't stand the boredom for another moment more,
 I plugged her in and turned her on, and cast aside my fears,
Just listening to her boot up was such music to my ears.
I don't know if I'm hooked, but there is one thing I do know,
If there's ever a computers anonymous I'm sure I need to go!

by Chuck Sullivan.......Copyright ©1993


Self Defence

She was being tried for murder
"It was self defence", she claimed,
"Circumstances happened
And I really can't be blamed".
The jury listened closely:
'Bout her many years of strain:
How the victim he was smothered
Before she went insane.
She told of how she suffered,
How the man she once adored
Sent her off her head because
At night he always snored.
"He rattled on his side
And he thundered on his back -
At last my weary brain announced:
Save yourself - attack!
"He'd set the bed a-shaking,
So I'd roll him on his side ...
Then a blissful silence
And towards my sleep I'd slide;
On the brink I'd hover,
Then he'd give a sudden snort -
My eyes would snap wide open
And my sleep would come to nought.
"He'd turn onto his back,
Spread himself across the bed
And serenade the darkness at full volume ...
Till I fled.
For years I kept my mouth shut,
In privacy I'd weep;
I didn't bear him grudges ...
I only yearned for sleep.
"I only wanted silence,
I only wanted rest,
So I just picked up my pillow
And gave his face a nest.
He never really struggled -
And his noises did subside,
He gave a sort of snuffle ...
And then he went and died!"
The jury came back quickly;
It didn't take them long:
One man, eleven women knew
That though she had done wrong
Lack of sleep had pushed her
To the point of homicide;
It was sad she was a widow ...
But her deed was justified.

Copyright; Janine Haig










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