We're proud of "Old Glory,"
the flag of our nation,
Standing for liberty and freedom,
Meaning patriotism and parades,
and marching bands;
And people across America,
Our star-spangled banner
waves proudly on high,
to Robert Hass and in memory of Elliot Gilbert
Slow dulcimer, gavotte and bow, in autumn,
Bashõ and his friends go out to view the moon;
In summer, gasoline rainbow in the gutter,
The secret courtesy that courses like ichor
Through the old form of the rude, full-scale joke,
Impossible to tell in writing. 'Bashõ'
He named himself, 'Banana Tree': banana
Characters of Christ; borrowed from inanimate things in Scripture.
Go, worship at Immanuel's feet,
See in his face what wonders meet!
Earth is too narrow to express
His worth, his glory, or his grace.
Thou thrice denied, yet thrice beloved,
Watch by Thine own forgiven friend;
In sharpest perils faithful proved,
Let his soul love Thee to the end.
The prayer is heard--else why so deep
His slumber on the eve of death?
And wherefore smiles he in his sleep
As one who drew celestial breath?
YE love, and sonnets write! Fate's strange behest!
The heart, its hidden meaning to declare,
Must seek for rhymes, uniting pair with pair:
Learn, children, that the will is weak, at best.
Scarcely with freedom the o'erflowing breast
As yet can speak, and well may it beware;
Tempestuous passions sweep each chord that's there,
Then once more sink to night and gentle rest.
If a crane was lost but not found
would it circle the latitudes of the earth for eternity?
For his featherdress to dissolve.
Would humans still watch it glide over their roofs,
as he does each fortnight’s first afternoon,
sitting by the alcove of their dormer windows
and give it a name?
defeat the sheer purpose of his flight?
One last day in this neighborhood.
Leaving behind years of memories both bad and good.
I’m so tired of being misunderstood.
I wouldn’t stay here if I could.
I’m halfway to Heaven.
I’ve already been through hell.
Yeah, I’m halfway to Heaven. I don’t even know myself.
Seems like everybody wants to control me.
Telling me how my life is supposed to be.
I’m tired of living in captivity.
She looked into the mirror but she couldn’t see herself
The tears in her eyes blurred the black
The black of her kohl which streamed down her face
And the black of the hijab they made her wear
The exultant purdah won again; they let him win, again
Why didn’t they understand when she told them
That it smothered her and made her feel small
That she didn’t want to be different or be the same
That God wouldn’t want her to be so troubled
Just because of a black piece of cloth and he would
I'm always flying high
Way up in the sky,
And even if you try
You can't get ahold of me.
And Im always flying free,
No more cage for me,
Didn't know it was that easy
To break the law of gravity.
Mukti is Freedom, we must be free
We must not be bound to the ground like a tree
We must not be slaves to the Mind and Ego, ME
The goal of life is Mukti, to be free
Most of us are slaves, we follow the herd
We don’t open our wings and fly like a bird
Although we human beings are blessed with wings
We crawl on the earth, tied with many strings