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Welcome to Poets' Pavilion, a gathering place for poets and readers. It is an open-air venue for infusing lives with the richness of poetry. Walk over the bridge of prose into a pilgrimage of public domain poetry voice-overs and devotionals. Park your pen, pencil, or keyboard and enjoy.
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100 Poets, 100 Poems

Poetry from the Jungle from The Ceylon Press

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“100 Poets, 100 Poems,” is a Ceylon Press "Poetry From The Jungle" podcast. Recorded in the dense Kandyan jungle, it presents a spirited new view on the world’s most gratifying classic poetry. The selection may appear to be random, contrary and wilful – but, like the jungle itself - within which the list was made and recorded - an ordered artful and invisible balance links each poet and poem.
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Hi! Welcome to the poetic realm of ’We, the Poets’! Join us as we dive deep into the vibrant world of poetry, where some of the most electrifying legends in the field take center stage. Led by Mark Grist & featuring a hosting panel from across the midlands, we’re bringing you voices at the pinnacle of their craft, sharing poetry from our guests & listeners each month as we dive into our vibrant community & the remarkable journey we get to go on as poets. Forget about the endgame – we’re here ...
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www.Poetsunplugged.com is a podcast for poets, writers, and their fandom. We share poems book-info, spoken word, etc., Do YOU WANT TO SHARE YOUR WORK? !!! Pls narrate your poem or make a book or author- showcase. Listen for FREE and without commercials! In order to be featured in one of our episodes email Sophi at poetsunplugged@usa.com. You can support our free service by becoming a Poetsunplugged Patreon. Support your favorite poetry podcast with a monthly membership (1, 2, or 3 USD) https ...
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Art of Poets is a vibrant online platform dedicated to inspiring over 2.5 million readers through a rich collection of poetry, quotes, and self-help blog posts. The site serves as a sanctuary for those seeking motivation and wisdom, featuring works from renowned poets, authors, and thinkers like Maya Angelou, Emily Dickinson, and Rumi.
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Poetry episodes of the popular The Creative Process podcast. Listen to poets reading their poetry & discuss their lives, work & creative process. Includes environmental poetry, humanities & activism. To listen to ALL arts & creativity episodes of “The Creative Process · Arts, Culture & Society”, you’ll find our main podcast on Apple: tinyurl.com/thecreativepod, Spotify: tinyurl.com/thecreativespotify, or wherever you get your podcasts! Exploring the fascinating minds of creative people. Conv ...
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Poet's Lunchbox

Chromatic Destruction

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Bulanan
 
Raw first drafts, introspections, and musings of a poet. Start with the most recent, not at the beginning. Website: poetslunchbox.neocities.org Message me: anchor.fm/poetslunchbox/message Email: chromaticdestruction7@gmail.com
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Books & Writers · The Creative Process: Novelists, Screenwriters, Playwrights, Poets, Non-fiction Writers & Journalists Talk Writing, Life & Creativity

Novelists, Screenwriters, Playwrights, Poets, Non-fiction Writers & Journalists Talk Writing · Creative Process Original Series

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Books & Writing episodes of the popular The Creative Process podcast. To listen to ALL arts & creativity episodes of “The Creative Process · Arts, Culture & Society”, you’ll find our main podcast on Apple: tinyurl.com/thecreativepod, Spotify: tinyurl.com/thecreativespotify, or wherever you get your podcasts! Exploring the fascinating minds of creative people. Conversations with writers, artists & creative thinkers across the Arts & STEM. We discuss their life, work & artistic practice. Winne ...
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Listen to Donald Hall's selection of classic American poets reading from their work. These recordings are being made available as the result of a collaboration between US and UK poet laureates Donald Hall and Andrew Motion.
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Listen in as Jon Burns interviews independent songwriters and musicians about the art of songwriting and recording. All of the artists featured are played on Pirates & Poets Radio. This feed includes archived episodes of the Pirates & Poets Podcast, which was published from 2014-2017. Find us online at www.piratesandpoets.net.
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In a world as uncertain as ours, what better way to make sense of chaos than by consulting the stars? Hosts, astrologers and poets Dorothea Lasky and Alex Dimitrov take their signature Twitter style to the airwaves, combining their love of the cosmos and penchant for poetry with a healthy dose of internet culture. You won't want to miss this wild ride of a show.
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Welcome to Poets-Radio.net - Culture Poetry Books & Art Poets-Radio.net radio is a cultural multi-site with interviews, books presentation , book reviews, articles and newsletters featuring writers andartists. Poets-Radio supports and promotes newcreators, every form of Art, and many more! See how to become a member by sending us your CV, a pesronal photo and of your work and your work to poetsradioarts@gmail.com. Then we will post directly on our website your data and we will soon contact
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Welcome to The ED POETS Society podcast! My name is Manny, your guide, and I wanted to share my passion of all things Poe - from the well known to very obscure short stories, poems plus haunting insights into Poe's tragic life and mysterious death. Please turn to page 1... Highvoltage4772@gmail.com Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/theedpoetssociety/support
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Poetry is everywhere. Everyone can witness this powerful, timeless medium, in mainstream art and underground alike. Meet talented, evocative, rising artists as they perform their words and tell the stories that share their journey, inspiration and process.
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Palm Trees and Poets

Palm Trees and Poets

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Check out www.palmtreesandpoets.com. Palm Trees and Poets is a TropRock music show on http://RadioA1A.com and Huntley Community Radio, 101.5fm locally or streaming on the internet at http://huntleyradio.com .
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POETS IN THE HOUSE

POETS IN THE HOUSE

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Bulanan
 
Poets in the House is a platform for creatives, a home for poets and writers and all art enthusiasts. Contemporary discussions are carried out to promote art, life of writers, poets, spoken word artists and also create opportunity for them to be heard and share beautiful and educative contents. HOSTS SHUAIB YAKOOB....iG handle (Shuaeb_poetry) MD ALHAASSAN....IG handle (md_alhaassan) UMMI AHMED....IG handle (whispers_in_my_head_01) You can also send your poems, piece or something you want to ...
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Real-life stories & interviews – laced with original poetry & music – produced by the creative team at Street Poets Inc. – a Los Angeles-based non-profit organization transforming our world one rhyme at a time. ••••••• Born in an L.A. County juvenile detention camp in 1995, Street Poets works behind bars and beyond, from inner-city high school classrooms to Native American reservations, from local streets and projects to countries as far away as Belize, Sweden, Northern Ireland and South Afr ...
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Two Poets

Corey Keller, Ben Burleigh

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Bulanan
 
This podcast follows two poets, Corey and Ben, as they are challenged each week to write a poem, or short story, based on a listener prompt. As two creative individuals who are trying their hardest to find creativity in everything they do, they sit and discuss their writings and topics that surround all things creative. Occasionally they will be joined by guests to discuss the whimsical, the creative journey, and all the messiness that comes with pursuing creativity. Hosted on Acast. See aca ...
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Digital Poets

CJ Casciotta | Matter Network

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The 21st century can be scary. There's the polarizing division, the pandemics, the melting icecaps and wildfires... oh yeah, and let's not forget the robots taking over everyone's jobs. If you're wondering how to be a good human while raising good humans these days you're not alone. Join author and serial media maker, CJ Casciotta, on an exploration into the past, present, and future in order to learn how to navigate the 21st century without losing our soul. Together, we'll master its tools ...
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Helen fell into writing whilst climbing out of burnout. She worked as a midwife and writes about life, family, health, loss and those whose voices are often unheard. Come and listen to inspiring writers, performers and spoken word artists share their 'take' on Poetry and Health. Expect lively discussions and masterclasses including comedy and trauma, creativity in cancer, writing our grief, addictions, mental health and smiles. Co-runs Satellite of Love Spoken Word Events. Poetry collection ...
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Welcome to Immerse: Poets! A 16 Week Immerse Bible Reading (and listening!) Experience Featuring the full New Living Translation (NLT) Bible version of Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs, Lamentations Immerse: Poets is the fifth of six volumes in Immerse: The Bible Reading Experience. Poets presents the poetical books of the First Testament in two groupings, dividing the books between songbooks (Psalms, Lamentations, Song of Songs) and wisdom writings (Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, ...
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Esoteric Poets Of The Mind

Esoteric Poets of The Mind

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Esoteric Poets Of The Mind Kyros, The Lyrical Mentor brings you rock religion on the radio with musical revelation from the 60's and 70's. On the icon pedestals will be electric guitar demigods from the Sunday school of Page, Hendrix and Clapton..And from the pulpit the enigmas of musicdom will be vocally belting out the sermons with fanaticism. Those with ears to hear will be mesmerized by the rock prophet voices of Leonard Cohen, Jim Morrison, John Lennon, Robert Plant.......The congregati ...
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Welcome to Immerse: Poets! An Immerse Bible Reading (and listening!) Experience Featuring the full New Living Translation (NLT) Bible version of Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs, Lamentations Immerse: Poets is the fifth of six volumes in Immerse: The Bible Reading Experience. Poets presents the poetical books of the First Testament in two groupings, dividing the books between songbooks (Psalms, Lamentations, Song of Songs) and wisdom writings (Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Job). ...
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Become a Paid Subscriber: https://anchor.fm/melvin-burl/subscribe Become a Paid Subscriber: https://anchor.fm/melvin-burl/subscribe Become a Paid Subscriber: Become a Paid Subscriber: https://anchor.fm/melvin-burl/subscribe Everyday life issues, family, friends, work and life in general. Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/melvin-burl/support
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After my third shot of tequila / chased by a lime sour as my rant: fuck this-fuck that-fuck them-fuck me-fuck it all / you slashed me / same as your poems’ slashes / slash me / when you asked me: so, why the fuck don’t you ever say it in your poems / I took another shot but couldn’t shoot out a reason / until now, Jan / you’re right, so / fuck \ th…
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The Red Poets Les, Tom, Pete and Mike look back at what could turn out to be our most important win of the season. 2 extremely late goals by Darwin Nunez away at Brentford further strengthened our position at the top of the league. We look forward to game 7 out 8 against Lille this Tuesday in ECL group stages which LFC sees currently top of League…
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In this episode, I give a brief history of doctor-poets and reasons why doctors practice poetry. Oliver Wendell Holmes https://podcast.helenrenell.me/holmes-battles-for-old-ironsides/ “A Doctor, A Patient, and Their Poetry” https://www.newyorker.com/science/annals-of-medicine/a-doctor-a-patient-and-their-poetry Audio version of Rafael Campo’s quote…
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“This book has a lot of the wisdom of things that feminists and queers have learned in the community about sexuality, but the book is really for anybody who is political, even those just starting out and beginning to realize that there is something wrong with the systems they live under. I want to be in movements. Our movements are made of relation…
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Episode 8 is all about the wonderfully unpredictable A.F. Harrold—children's poet, author and the creative force behind the Fizzlebert Stump series and The Imaginary, which recently soared to new heights with a Netflix adaptation by animation studio Studio Ponoc. Hosted by Charley Genever and Mark Grist, this episode delves into the art of writing …
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In this episode on Speaking Out of Place podcast Professor David Palumbo-Liu is delighted and privileged to be in conversation with Azucena Castro and Malcom Ferdinand. They start with a discussion of what Ferdinand calls the “double fracture”—the environmental division of humans from their connection to the biosphere, and the colonial division ins…
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When sorrow lays us low for a second we are saved by humble windfalls of the mindfulness or memory: the taste of a fruit, the taste of water, that face given back to us by a dream, the first jasmine of November, the endless yearning of the compass, a book we thought was lost, the throb of a hexameter, the slight key that opens a house to us, the sm…
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You might say the streets flow sweetly through the night. The lights are dim so the secret will be kept, the secret known by the men who come and go, for they’re all in on the secret and why break it up in a thousand pieces when it’s so sweet to hold it close, and share it only with the one chosen person. If, at a given moment, everyone would say w…
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I woke in the night and thought, It was a dream, nothing has torn the future apart, we have not lived years in dread, it never happened, I dreamed it all. And then there was this sensation of terrific pressure lifting, as if I were rising in one of those old diving bells, lightening, unburdening. I didn’t know how heavy my life had become—so much f…
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All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms. Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to sch…
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To you I have given wings, on which you may fly aloft Above the boundless sea and all the earth With ease. At feasts and banquets you will be present On all occasions, lying in the mouths of many, And to the clear-toned sound of pipes young men With seemly grace and loveliness, their voices fair and clear, Will sing of you. And when beneath the hol…
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Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles today Tomorrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he’s a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he’s to setting. That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, a…
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On a northern peak among white clouds You have found your hermitage of peace; And now, as I climb this mountain to see you, High with the wildgeese flies my heart. The quiet dusk might seem a little sad If this autumn weather were not so brisk and clear; I look down at the river bank, with homeward-bound villagers Resting on the sand till the ferry…
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When spring begins and the ice-locked streams begin To flow down from the snowy hills above And the clods begin to crumble in the breeze, The time has come for my groaning ox to drag My heavy plow across the fields, so that The plow blade shines as the furrow rubs against it. Not till the earth has been twice plowed, so twice Exposed to sun and twi…
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What will you do, God, when I die? I am your jar (if cracked, I lie?) Your well-spring (if the well go dry?) I am your craft, your vesture I— You lose your purport, losing me. When I go, your cold house will be Empty of words that made it sweet. I am the sandals your bare feet Will seek and long for, wearily. Your cloak will fall from aching bones.…
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I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their…
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There was Dai Puw. He was no good. They put him in the fields to dock swedes, And took the knife from him, when he came home At late evening with a grin Like the slash of a knife on his face. There was Llew Puw, and he was no good. Every evening after the ploughing With the big tractor he would sit in his chair, And stare into the tangled fire gard…
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In addition there is fashioned there an ancient fisherman and a rock, a rugged rock, on which with might and main the old man poises a great net for the cast as one who puts his whole heart into it. One would say that he was fishing with the full strength of his limbs so big do his muscles stand out about the neck. Gray-haired though he be, he has …
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I think continually of those who were truly great. Who, from the womb, remembered the soul’s history Through corridors of light, where the hours are suns, Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition Was that their lips, still touched with fire, Should tell of the Spirit, clothed from head to foot in song. And who hoarded from the Spring branches The…
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Here stood our ancestral home: The crumbling wall marks the spot. Here a sheep was led to slaugther To appease the gods and atone For faults which our destiny Has blossomed into crimes. There my cursed father once stood And shouted at us, his children. To come back from our play To our evening meal and sleep. The clouds are thickening in the red sk…
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Tenderly, day that I have loved, I close your eyes, And smooth your quiet brow, and fold your thin dead hands. The grey veils of the half-light deepen; colour dies. I bear you, a light burden, to the shrouded sands, Where lies your waiting boat, by wreaths of the sea's making Mist-garlanded, with all grey weeds of the water crowned. There you'll be…
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Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me – The Carriage held but just Ourselves – And Immortality. We slowly drove – He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility – We passed the School, where Children strove At Recess – in the Ring – We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain – We passed the Setti…
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Child, how happy you are sitting in the dust, playing with a broken twig all the morning. I smile at your play with that little bit of a broken twig. I am busy with my accounts, adding up figures by the hour. Perhaps you glance at me and think, "What a stupid game to spoil your morning with!" Child, I have forgotten the art of being absorbed in sti…
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The force that through the green fuse drives the flower Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees Is my destroyer. And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose My youth is bent by the same wintry fever. The force that drives the water through the rocks Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams Turns mine to wax. And I am dumb to mout…
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I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I feel my fate in what I cannot fear. I learn by going where I have to go. We think by feeling. What is there to know? I hear my being dance from ear to ear. I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. Of those so close beside me, which are you? God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there, And learn by go…
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Like a skein of loose silk blown against a wall She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens, And she is dying piece-meal of a sort of emotional anemia. And round about there is a rabble Of the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor. They shall inherit the earth. In her is the end of breeding. Her boredom is exquisite and e…
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I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it—— A sort of walking miracle, my skin Bright as a Nazi lampshade, My right foot A paperweight, My face a featureless, fine Jew linen. Peel off the napkin O my enemy. Do I terrify?—— The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth? The sour breath Will vanish in a day. Soon, soon the flesh The gra…
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Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you thought And not waving but drowning. Poor chap, he always loved larking And now he’s dead It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way, They said. Oh, no no no, it was too cold always (Still the dead one lay moaning) I was much too far out all my life…
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When at break of day at a riverside I hear the jungle drums telegraphing the mystic rhythm, urgent, rawlike bleeding flesh, speaking of primal youth and the beginning I see the panther ready to pounce the leopard snarling about to leapand the hunters crouch with spears poised; And my blood ripples, turns torrent, topples the years and at once I’min…
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I caught this morning morning's minion, king- dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing, As a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding Rebuf…
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In the courtyard a shower of peach petals piles deep; Wandering orioles cry out on a magnolia tree near the fence. Through tasseled silk curtains the spring cold seeps in; From the censer a list of burning incense gently curls. A beautiful girl woken from sleep makes up her face anew; Fine girdle of fragrant silk, patterned with ducks. She rolls up…
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Go and catch a falling star, Get with child a mandrake root, Tell me where all past years are, Or who cleft the devil's foot, Teach me to hear mermaids singing, Or to keep off envy's stinging, And find What wind Serves to advance an honest mind. If thou be'st born to strange sights, Things invisible to see, Ride ten thousand days and nights, Till a…
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The moon is playing hide-and-seek Behind the clouds. A mellow smile Lingers on the lips of the sky Tides tease and tangle At the water's edge. The buck eyes The doe with a deep, alluring passion Sun mo bi, Ologuro I am in the mood for love tonight I can hear pigeons cooing In their coop. I can hear alapandede Swapping notes in the shady eaves Oge t…
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Green, how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. The ship out on the sea and the horse on the mountain. With the shade around her waist she dreams on her balcony, green flesh, her hair green, with eyes of cold silver. Green, how I want you green. Under the gypsy moon, all things are watching her and she cannot see them. Green, how I want yo…
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I knew a simple soldier boy Who grinned at life in empty joy, Slept soundly through the lonesome dark, And whistled early with the lark. In winter trenches, cowed and glum, With crumps and lice and lack of rum, He put a bullet through his brain. No one spoke of him again. You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye Who cheer when soldier lads march by,…
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Matchless in breeding and beauty, a fine lady has taken refuge in this forsaken valley. She is of good family, she says, but her fortune has withered away; now she lives as the grass and trees. When the heartlands fell to the rebels her brothers were put to death; birth and position availed nothing-- she was not even allowed to bring home their bon…
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Part I On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And thro' the field the road runs by To many-tower'd Camelot; The yellow-leaved waterlily The green-sheathed daffodilly Tremble in the water chilly Round about Shalott. Willows whiten, aspens shiver. The sunbeam showers break and quiver In t…
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The cry of the cicada Gives us no sign That presently they will die. ENJOY MORE A small island encircled by formidable oceans, Sri Lanka is a mystery to many: remote, hard to place; a well-kept secret. The Ceylon Press seeks to make its complicated story more accessible. The Press publishes a range of podcasts including The History Of Sri Lanka; th…
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I have lit my treasured candles, one by one, to hallow this night. With you, who do not come, I wait the birth of the year. Dear God! the flame has drowned in crystal, and the wine, like poison, burns Old malice bites the air, old ravings rave again, though the hour has not yet struck. Dread. Bottomless dread… I am that shadow on the threshold defe…
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Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. T…
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In summer's heat and mid-time of the day, To rest my limbs upon a bed I lay, One window shut, the other open stood, Which gave such light as twinkles in a wood Like twilight glimpse at setting of the sun, Or night being past and yet not day begun. Such light to shamefaced maidens must be shown, Where they may sport, and seem to be unknown. Then cam…
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Of that love, of that mile walked together in the rain, only a weariness remains. I am that stranger now my mirror holds to me; the moment's silence hardly moves across the glass. I pity myself in another's guise. And no one's back here, no one I can recognize, and from my side I see nothing. Years have passed since I sat with you, watching the sky…
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I am: yet what I am none cares or knows, My friends forsake me like a memory lost; I am the self-consumer of my woes, They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost; And yet I am! and live with shadows tost Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither se…
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In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round; And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; And here were forests anc…
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I That is no country for old men. The young In one another’s arms, birds in the trees, —Those dying generations—at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unageing intellect. II An aged man is bu…
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There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind. Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends. Past the pits where the asphal…
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What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare. No time to stand beneath the boughs And stare as long as sheep or cows. No time to see, when woods we pass, Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass. No time to see, in broad daylight, Streams full of stars, like skies at night. No time to turn at Beauty's glance, And watch her…
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Here he is, my good old friend! He's at Yellow Crane Terrace on a western departure. And--we're saying goodbye, goodbye. He's in a cloud of third-month blossoms. He's off downstream to Yang-chou. That shadow there is his lonely sail. Now there's nothing left of it. All the blue is empty now. All you can see is that long, long river. It flows to the…
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Some say thronging cavalry, some say foot soldiers, others call a fleet the most beautiful of sights the dark earth offers, but I say it's what- ever you love best. And it's easy to make this understood by everyone, for she who surpassed all human kind in beauty, Helen, abandoning her husband—that best of men—went sailing off to the shores of Troy …
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