Please help me

[jonlaor.livejournal.com]

Someone recommended I read "Crow Tyrannosaurus" by Ted Hughes. I am not able to find it anywhere online. If someone can, please post it on her. Thank you!

(no subject)

[shoism.livejournal.com]

I took a school history trip to Holland/France/Belgium on the March break. I said if I knew a prayer I would recite one before we entered Tyne Cott Cemetery (in the picture); my friend immediately began to recite this poem instead and the rest of the students, and teachers, on the trip joined in. It was definitely one of the moments in life I will carry with me forever.



In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae, May 1915

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep,
though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Sandra M. Gilbert - Landscape: In the Forest

[thistle-verse.livejournal.com]

Landscape: In the Forest



Midnight. The witch's hut
splits like a pomegranate.
Dried flowers pour from seams in the wall.
The floorboards shiver, shred, caress
themselves with splintery claws,
pine needles, in love with their own scent.

And now the forest, where only this evening
the coaches of princes clattered,
is silent—the ladies vanished like light,
the fur, the velvet—and now
the witch in her child clothing
wanders among green branches,

her skin the wax of berries, her feathery hair
innocent as new leaves.





Sandra M. Gilbert, 2003
from The Poets' Grimm, edited by Jeanne Marie Beaumont & Claudia Carlson
Story Line Press

(no subject)

[the-blue-dahlia.livejournal.com]

ANNABELLE LEE
Edgar Allan Poe

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love -
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulcher
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me
Yes! that was the reason
(as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we
Of many far wiser than we
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In the sepulcher there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

A little Anne S

[jenni-powell.livejournal.com]

Housewife
by Anne Sexton

Some women marry houses.
It's another kind of skin; it has a heart,
a mouth, a liver and bowel movements.
The walls are permanent and pink.
See how she sits on her knees all day,
faithfully washing herself down.
Men enter by force, drawn back like Jonah
into their fleshy mothers.
A woman is her mother.
That's the main thing.