baboon. a person with similar character. baby. a new beginning conceived by entering into a new course of action, i.e. the birth of a new job, etc. back. One of the Largest, Old Established Sources, of Antique and Vintage Swords, Arms, Armour And Military Books in Europe. Jul 22, · Earlier this year, the realms of law and new media collided when Lori Drew was hit with federal charges for creating a fake MySpace page and harassing a. Good morning everyone It's another wonderful but chilly morning here on the Cumberland Plateau aka 'The Redoubt Of The East' but that's okay because in .
DayPoems Forum Click to submit poems to DayPoems, comment on DayPoems or a poem within, comment on other poetry sites, update links, or simply get in touch.One of the Largest, Old Established Sources, of Antique and Vintage Swords, Arms, Armour And Military Books in Europe. Jul 22, · Earlier this year, the realms of law and new media collided when Lori Drew was hit with federal charges for creating a fake MySpace page and harassing a. All forces have been steadily employ'd to complete and delight me, Now on this spot I stand with my robust soul.
Why should I pray? Broad muscular fields, branches of live oak, loving lounger in my winding paths, it shall be you!
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Sit a while dear son, Here are biscuits to eat and here is milk to drink, But as soon as you sleep and renew yourself in sweet clothes, I kiss you with a good-by kiss and open the gate for your egress hence.
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.
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I but use you a minute, then I resign you, stallion, Why do I need your paces when I myself out-gallop them? And proceed to fill my next fold of the future. That I walk up my stoop, I pause to consider if it really be, A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books. Again the long roll of the drummers, Again the attacking cannon, mortars, Again to my listening ears the cannon responsive. There was never any more inception than there is now, Nor any more youth or age than there is now, And will never be any more perfection than there is now, Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.
Any requests for publication in other venues must be negotiated separately with the authors. In the houses the dishes and fare and furniture--but the host and hostess, and the look out of their eyes?
I am there, I help, I came stretch'd atop of the load, I felt its soft jolts, one leg reclined on the other, I jump from the cross-beams and seize the clover and timothy, And roll head over heels and tangle my hair full of wisps.
Perhaps I might tell more.
Did it make you ache so, leaving me? Partaker of influx and efflux I, extoller of hate and conciliation, Extoller of amies and those that sleep in each others' arms.
Speech is the twin of my vision, it is unequal to measure itself, It provokes me forever, it says sarcastically, Walt you contain enough, why don't you let it out then?
Only three guns are in use, One is directed by the captain himself against the enemy's main-mast, Two well serv'd with grape and canister silence his musketry and clear his decks. This day I am jetting the stuff of far more arrogant republics. Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on the side of a rock has.
Agonies are one of my changes of garments, I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person, My hurts turn livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe. I hear the chorus, it is a grand opera, Ah this indeed is music--this suits me.
Song of Myself
From the cinder-strew'd threshold I follow their movements, The lithe sheer of their waists plays even with their massive arms, Overhand the hammers swing, overhand so slow, overhand so sure, They do not hasten, each man hits in his place.
The sharp-hoof'd moose of the north, the cat on the house-sill, the chickadee, the prairie-dog, The litter of the grunting sow as they tug at her teats, The brood of the turkey-hen and she with her half-spread wings, I see in them and myself the same old law. Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt, Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose?
We also ascend dazzling and tremendous as the sun, We found our own O my soul in the calm and cool of the daybreak.
I do not know it--it is without name--it is a word unsaid, It is not in any dictionary, utterance, symbol.
His nostrils dilate as my heels embrace him, His well-built limbs tremble with pleasure as we race around and return. Do I contradict myself? I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning, How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over upon me, And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart, And reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd till you held my feet.
Song of Myself By Walt Whitman 1 I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. Immense have been the preparations for me, Faithful and friendly the arms that have help'd me. In at the conquer'd doors they crowd!
Hefts of the moving world at innocent gambols silently rising freshly exuding, Scooting obliquely high and low. O manhood, balanced, florid and full. I am the poet of the woman the same as the man, And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man, And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men. Vivas to those who have fail'd! Also known as atmosphere suit, vac suit. Press close bare-bosom'd night--press close magnetic nourishing night!
I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth, I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and fathomless as myself, They do not know how immortal, but I know.
My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes of worlds. There is no stoppage and never can be stoppage, If I, you, and the worlds, and all beneath or upon their surfaces, were this moment reduced back to a pallid float, it would not avail the long run, We should surely bring up again where we now stand, And surely go as much farther, and then farther and farther. The earth by the sky staid with, the daily close of their junction, The heav'd challenge from the east that moment over my head, The mocking taunt, See then whether you shall be master!
I take part, I see and hear the whole, The cries, curses, roar, the plaudits for well-aim'd shots, The ambulanza slowly passing trailing its red drip, Workmen searching after damages, making indispensable repairs, The fall of grenades through the rent roof, the fan-shaped explosion, The whizz of limbs, heads, stone, wood, iron, high in the air. I am he attesting sympathy, Shall I make my list of things in the house and skip the house that supports them?
Whoever degrades another degrades me, And whatever is done or said returns at last to me. They are alive and well somewhere, The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, And ceas'd the moment life appear'd.
Not a mutineer walks handcuff'd to jail but I am handcuff'd to him and walk by his side, I am less the jolly one there, and more the silent one with sweat on my twitching lips. I beat and pound for the dead, I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for them. Archives and past articles from the Philadelphia Inquirer, Philadelphia Daily News, and qlipe.com A space suit is a protective garment that prevents an astronaut from dying horribly when they step into airless space.
And mine a word of the modern, the word En-Masse. I am an acme of things accomplish'd, and I an encloser of things to be.
None obey'd the command to kneel, Some made a mad and helpless rush, some stood stark and straight, A few fell at once, shot in the temple or heart, the living and dead lay together, The maim'd and mangled dug in the dirt, the new-comers saw them there, Some half-kill'd attempted to crawl away, These were despatch'd with bayonets or batter'd with the blunts of muskets, A youth not seventeen years old seiz'd his assassin till two more came to release him, The three were all torn and cover'd with the boy's blood.
Wider and wider they spread, expanding, always expanding, Outward and outward and forever outward. What behaved well in the past or behaves well to-day is not such wonder, The wonder is always and always how there can be a mean man or an infidel.