Day-ScapeMeadows over endless meadows.
Say hello to Tuesday's mellow, staring down the sun.
It acts like no one is watching, up in the sky,
Golden to the eye. Ay, spy;
Bring something down.
An apple please, I'll let go of my gown.
Hills that cover endless hills
Are under April's cherry spills, staring down the sun.
They act as if they are nothing but the sky
As it is pink. Fallen to the ground.
Some blossoms please,
For I have now come down.
Dare say, may they, upon rivers,
Their heart's wrung worth of shivers, cold in the sun.
Such acts of murmers in an orchard,
Marvelous say I. Ay, cry;
Bring me a song
My master, please, nothing's wrong.
Ringlets into pretty ringlets.
Laughter in my bows, I'm a brunette, blotting out the sun.
You play with my shoes then we fall to grass.
Darling, I am lass. Ay, pass
Your hand by my breast,
Listen to my heart's low music, and rest.
Weather I SleepThough my window is shut and tight
It cannot hush the sounds tonight.
I can hear the mellow chimes below,
In the canopy where flowers grow.
The storm is strong and some snow we need;
Thus towards the beckoning tone it heeds.
So I mind the windsong through the glass
As some vague lesson or a class.
In intervals the tune is played
But the snow has sadly been delayed.
Still through locked pane and wood it seeps,
The song; like springtime it does peep.
High and low in octaves moist,
A soothing melody is hoist;
Aloft in some strange universe
That is called night- so we've rehearsed.
One quiet pause is 'nough to hear
To convince me that the ice is here.
So now in comfort do I lay
As snow dust travels near to play.
Sub-SecretsAnthony Stephan boarded the sub confidently, fulfilling his Friday-night venture to Cynthia Voyager's apartment. His suit was clean, after spending countless passive hours at his ritual of an occupation, but his face was haggard with still-remaining evidence of the cocaine he had previously snorted. Passengers regarded him with apathetic expressions of uninterested. Other, better dressed, passengers knew him as a lawyer from numerous news reports of crimes justly solved.
Anthony gripped the warm poll in the isle, not only attempting to steady himself from the drugs, but the departing vibrations of the subway bus. His exhaustion wore simultaneously with the kick of nitroglycerin laced in the coke. Now aware that he was being watched, Anthony fumbled with his Blackberry, glancing awkwardly around to locate a vacant seat. The sub was just reaching full speed as the drugged thirty-year-old made his way to a small, blue chair. He crammed himself politely between two obese passengers, who, w
Fumble HushCome back Seven! I want to play.
Don't leave me alone, Seven, not today;
Because tomorrow is one, two Three days away!
Fine then, run away from me.
At least I have my F and G.
I bet that they will keep me company.
I swear I just saw the word FLYING
But it flew too fast for my eying
And now I am sad and feel like dying.
My name is Ssthpnanaie; that I know,
But others tell me it is not so
And that there are places I'll never go.
So many Sevens have gone away
That I cry all night and every day
Because there are words I'll never say.
H, I, J A, Kill 'em N Oh! P!
The alphabet is easy for me.
I just sing la-la, tee-dee.
I want to play and laugh and write
And sometimes I do think I might
But making letters gives me much fright.
So I'll just wait for Seven, or a team of 22's
Who might kindly come and show me how to tie my shoes.