When the white flame in us is gone,
And we that lost the world's delight
Stiffen in darkness, left alone
To crumble in our separate night;
When your swift hair is quiet in death,
And through the lips corruption thrust
Has stilled the labour of my breath --
When we are dust, when we are dust! --
It is made to be rolled down
a flight of stairs,
placed under a guilty hat,
or casually dropped into a basket
among the desks
of the wrongheaded statesmen.
As it tumbled on the carpeted stairs
or settles quietly
in its wire-wicker nest,
They sent me a salwar kameez
&nb sp; peacock-blue,
& nbsp; and another
glistening like an orange split open,
embossed slippers, gold and black
&nbs p; points curling.
Candy-striped glass bangles
&n bsp; snapped, drew blood.
Like at school, fashions changed
&n bsp; in Pakistan -
And when, in the city in which I love you,
even my most excellent song goes unanswered,
andI mount the scabbed streets,
the long shouts of avenues,
and tunnel sunken night in search of you...
That I negotiate fog, bituminous
rain rining like teeth into the beggar's tin,
or two men jackaling a third in some alley
weirdly lit by a couch on fire, that I
Life is a privilege. Its youthful days
Shine with the radiance of continuous Mays.
To live, to breathe, to wonder and desire,
To feed with dreams the heart’s perpetual fire,
To thrill with virtuous passions, and to glow
With great ambitions – in one hour to know
The depths and heights of feeling – God! in truth,
How beautiful, how beautiful is youth!
Life is a privilege. Like some rare rose
floating on water
red sun's come down to the sea
blue waves in motion
shimmer and shine dusk
and stars are racing the moon
beyond fiery skies
as the hour grows late
the smoky drapes also fall
Down came jolly Santa, lickety-split
not checking to see if a fire was lit.
He shot out of the chimney
while dancing a fast shimmy-
His job is oft harder than he'll admit!
I was an active and happy person, whose sole hobby was collecting treasures,
As night collects vast amounts of silver, with its precious moonlight measures.
I loved to amass unusual items, like first edition books or movie memorabilia,
Vintage records, ticket stubs and posters, riveting as the scent of a gardenia.
My collection grew large over the years, like fancy blooms that follow the sun,
Strewing mixed colors over mountains and valleys, creating charming visions!
I kept this collection in the detached garage, of my house way up Sunset Hill,
I know how fire feels
I can remember when I see my burns
I know the pain
From searing my skin one too many times
The leaves are flaming,
and crackling in the cold wind,
Deep green is dying.
It's like gold sun's retreating,
or sunset of the season!