A Conversation Poem, April, 1798
No cloud, no relique of the sunken day
Distinguishes the West, no long thin slip
Of sullen light, no obscure trembling hues.
Come, we will rest on this old mossy bridge!
You see the glimmer of the stream beneath,
But hear no murmuring: it flows silently.
O'er its soft bed of verdure. All is still.
A balmy night! and though the stars be dim,
......
It's easy to fight when everything's right,
And you're mad with the thrill and the glory;
It's easy to cheer when victory's near,
And wallow in fields that are gory.
It's a different song when everything's wrong,
When you're feeling infernally mortal;
When it's ten against one, and hope there is none,
Buck up, little soldier, and chortle:
Carry on! Carry on!
......
I come from a musical place
Where they shoot me for my song
And my brother has been tortured
By my brother in my land.
I come from a beautiful place
Where they hate my shade of skin
They don't like the way I pray
And they ban free poetry.
......
QUEEN GULNAAR sat on her ivory bed,
Around her countless treasures were spread;
Her chamber walls were richly inlaid
With agate, porphory, onyx and jade;
The tissues that veiled her delicate breast,
Glowed with the hues of a lapwing's crest;
But still she gazed in her mirror and sighed
......
Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray:
And, when I crossed the wild,
I chanced to see at break of day
The solitary child.
No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;
She dwelt on a wide moor,
- The sweetest thing that ever grew
Beside a human door!
......
Mary Davis dwelled on a fruit farm, adoring the company of animals.
Most beloved was sociable Sam, who made her giggle, like bubbles!
Whereas Mary was seven-years-old, Sam, her lamb, was still a baby,
Given to Mary by best neighbors, when they played in orange daisies.
Sam's white fleece was soft and fluffy, like a mound of feather pillows;
Like clouds of endless, turquoise skies, blown by breezes, into billows.
Sweet-natured Sam and Mary's bond, was special. Soon inseperable!
......
blue is wild iris
like the skies of racy clouds
or berries that tempt
sunshine's companion
since mulberry hours of dawn
when scents greeted song
carefree is iris
like warm wind, whistling all day
......
Norah Lynn was ten years old, and dreamed of being a ballet dancer;
Like cherry blossoms, fluttering in breeze, whispering with no answer.
She lived with her parents and sister, Phoebe, in the house upon a hill.
Norah Lynn and Phoebe adored nursery songs; like mockingbird thrill!
Often, they danced in coral twilight, after study and chores were done;
Like the rosy dawn which brings with it, everything under orange sun.
Fences were festooned with flame lilies, to greet plum-fuchsia sunset,
......
In twilight’s fading glow, a voice stirs unseen,
It is the song of those from shadows gleaned.
They Walk with broken backs, hands worn and bruised,
Society’s edges, abandoned and used.
Is justice but a whispered prayer in the dark?
Or does it stand, a flame, a fierce spark?
To the powers that sleep in golden halls,
Hear now the cry from those who crawl.
......
To all you rhymers that like the beat,
come join the rappers on the street.
It's time for us to hear the best,
we gonna put you to the test.
Bring on all words that rhyme,
for every verse must sound sublime.
We got no time for idle sounds,
the finest rhymes will be renowned.
So if you think your game enough,
Let’s hear you play some rapper stuff.
......