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Archive for the ‘poetry’ Category

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I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,

And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.

He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;

And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

ii

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow—

Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;

For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,

And he sometimes gets so little that there’s none of him at all.

iii

He hasn’t got a notion of how children ought to play,

And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.

He stays so close beside me, he’s a coward you can see;

I’d think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

iv

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,

I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;

But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,

Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

Source: The Golden Book of Poetry (1947)

photocredit-wikipedia/pinterest/lisa abramson-writers

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Piping down the valleys wild,

Piping songs of peasant glee,

On a cloud I saw a child,

And he, laughing, said to me:

 

‘Pipe a song about a lamb!’

So I piped with merry cheer.

‘Piper, pipe that song again;’

So I piped: he wept to hear.

 

‘Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;

Sing thy songs of happy cheer!’

So I sang the same again,

While he wept with joy to hear.

 

‘Piper, sit thee down and write

In a book, that all may read.’

So he vanished from my sight;

And I plucked a hollow reed,

 

And I made a rural pen,

And I stain’d the water clear,

And I wrote my happy songs

Every child may joy to hear.

photo credit-lisa abramson/writers-Pinterest)

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Psalm #1©

(And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water,… vs.3)

Make me a tree for your garden Lord

Send me rivers of your goodness:

Let them make me strong and able

To worship you as long as I live.

ii

May your grace like rays of the Sun warm

Quicken my willing spirit all through;

In serving you make me grow

Fruits of the spirit must in me found.

iii

For your kingdom even for delight

Of all around make me reach out;

A tree with branches with fruits

Ever growing and abounding.

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Light, Forever Lit ©

From strangest shores to Bethlehem came

The wisest of the wise so they were reckoned:

Three bearing gifts, before Herod they came

They but found the world honors the false indeed.

ii

From Galilee to Bethlehem came

The holy family by some decree;

Mary big with Child found no home

But a lowly manger by divine decree.

iii

In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed

The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.

A Caesar must live off taxes and be damned,

But forever blessed is Jesus Christ.

iv

The star that led the rustic still shines

And we too have in that infant found it

Lit despite all gloom, and peace reigns;

We have found light what is forever lit.

(Reading Christina Rossetti’s In the Bleak Midwinter prompted this poem)

benny

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My book the Illustrated Omar Khayyam is available on Amazon.com. For the season the price for the paperback is marked down. If you type out my name you shall see it like Jesus among thieves, in this case among pious fraud who sell Holy Spirit, divine Healing, interpret your dreams and what not.

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/bennymkje

benny

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Jenny kissed me when we met,

Jumping in a hoop from the floor;

Time, you thief, know you not,

Sink into that skull, law is clear:

Say she made the move, it’s no use,

Say what you’ll but law gets your throat;

Say it was her fault, no use,

She is a Jail bait.

benny

Original Version

Jenny kissed me when we met,

Jumping from the chair she sat in;

Time, you thief, who love to get

Sweets into your list, put that in!

Say I’m weary, say I’m sad,

Say that health and wealth have missed me,

Say I’m growing old, but add,

Jenny kissed me.

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I dream of Jeanie with the light brown hair,

Borne, like a vapor, on the summer air;

I see her tripping where the bright streams play,

Happy as the daisies that dance on her way.

Many were the wild notes her merry voice would pour,

Many were the blithe birds that warbled them o’er:

Oh! I dream of Jeanie with the light brown hair,

Floating, like a vapor, on the soft summer air.

2.

I long for Jeanie with the daydawn smile,

Radiant in gladness, warm with winning guile;

I hear her melodies, like joys gone by,

Sighing round my heart o’er the fond hopes that die:

Sighing like the night wind and sobbing like the rain,

Wailing for the lost one that comes not again:

Oh! I long for Jeanie, and my heart bows low,

Never more to find her where the bright waters flow.

3.

I sigh for Jeanie, but her light form strayed

Far from the fond hearts round her native glade;

Her smiles have vanished and her sweet songs flown,

Flitting like the dreams that have cheered us and gone.

Now the nodding wild flowers may wither on the shore

While her gentle fingers will cull them no more:

Oh! I sigh for Jeanie with the light brown hair,

Floating, like a vapor, on the soft summer air.

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