Project for a Fainting

RAINProject for a Fainting

By Brenda Shaughnessy

Oh, yes, the rain is sorry. Unfemale, of course, the rain is
with her painted face still plain and with such pixel you’d never see
 
it in the pure freckling, the lacquer of her. The world
is lighter with her recklessness, a handkerchief so wet it is clear.
 
To you. My withered place, this frumpy home (nearer
to the body than to evening) miserable beloved. I lie tender
 
and devout with insomnia, perfect on the center pillow past
midnight, sick with the thought of another year
 
of waking, solved and happy, it has never been this way! Believe
strangers who say the end is close for what could be closer?
 
You are my stranger and see how we have closed. On both ends.
Night wets me all night, blind, carried.
 
And watermarks. The plough of the rough on the slick,
love, a tendency toward fever. To break. To soil.
 
Would I dance with you? Both forever and rather die.
It would be like dying, yes. Yes I would.
 
I have loved the slaking of your forgetters, your indifferent
hands on my loosening. Through a thousand panes of glass
 
not all transparent, and the temperature.
I felt that. What you say is not less than that.
 
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Birthday Lights

birthdaylightsBirthday Lights

By Calef Brown

Light bulbs on a birthday cake.
What a difference that would make!
     Plug it in and make a wish,
     then relax and flip a switch!
No more smoke
      or waxy mess
      to bother any birthday guests.
But Grampa says, “it’s not the same!
      Where’s the magic?
       Where’s the flame?
To get your wish without a doubt,
You need to blow some candles out!”
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Dust of Snow

100_0364Dust of Snow

by Robert Frost

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
 
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of the day I had rued.
 
 
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Sonnet XCVII: How like a Winter hath my Absence been

winter in the park

Sonnet XCVII: How like a Winter hath my Absence been

by William Shakespeare
How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December’s bareness everywhere!
And yet this time remov’d was summer’s time,
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burthen of the prime,
Like widow’d wombs after their lords’ decease:
Yet this abundant issue seem’d to me
But hope of orphans and unfather’d fruit;
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
And thou away, the very birds are mute;
Or if they sing, ’tis with so dull a cheer
That leaves look pale, dreading the winter’s near.
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Aphrodisia

Image

Aphrodisia

by Richard Hoffman

Love’s language is hyperbole, but whispered,
sibilant similes and promises sotto voce.
It’s easy to imagine you’ve misheard,
 
the form and content clash, create this weird
distortion like an echo or a tape delay.
Love’s language is hyperbole, but whispered.
 
On which do you place emphasis: The words?
Or the breath? The farfetched or the foreplay?
It’s easy to imagine you’ve misheard
 
when objectivity has disappeared
and your lover is getting further carried away.
Love’s language is hyperbole, but whispered
 
vows? It’s hard to take him at his word,
or hers: Speak up! Proclaim! you want to say.
It’s easy to imagine you’ve misheard,
 
hard to admit one sharp as you is stirred.
You need to back off, cool down, act blasé.
Love’s language is hyperbole, but whispered.
It’s easy to imagine you’ve misheard.
 
 
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Orange Colored Sky

Orange Colored Sky

I was walking along, minding my business, 
When out of the orange colored sky, 
Flash, bam, alacazam, Wonderful you came by.

I was humming a tune, drinking in sunshine,
When out of that orange colored view
Wham, bam, alacazam, I got a look at you.

Oh one look and I yelled timber.
Watch out for flying glass.
Cause the ceiling fell in and the bottom fell out
I went into a spin and I started to shout
I’ve been hit, This is it, this is it.

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Drops of Jupiter

Drops of Jupiter

Songwriters:  Robert S. Hotchkiss, Pat Monahan, James W. Stafford, Underwood, Scott Michael Underwood, Charlie Colin
 

Now that she’s back in the atmosphere
With drops of Jupiter in her hair, hey, hey
She acts like summer and walks like rain
Reminds me that there’s time to change, hey, hey
Since the return from her stay on the moon
She listens like spring and she talks like June, hey, hey

Tell me did you sail across the sun
Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded
And that heaven is overrated

Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star
One without a permanent scar
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there

Now that she’s back from that soul vacation
Tracing her way through the constellation, hey, hey
She checks out Mozart while she does tae-bo
Reminds me that there’s room to grow, hey, hey

Now that she’s back in the atmosphere
I’m afraid that she might think of me as plain ol’ Jane
Told a story about a man who is too afraid to fly so he never did land

Tell me did the wind sweep you off your feet
Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day
And head back to the Milky Way
And tell me, did Venus blow your mind
Was it everything you wanted to find
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there

Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken
Your best friend always sticking up for you even when I know you’re wrong
Can you imagine no first dance, freeze dried romance five-hour phone conversation
The best soy latte that you ever had . . . and me

Tell me did the wind sweep you off your feet
Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day
And head back toward the Milky Way

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