This week, I’ve published the results in a slightly different format to allow for the text and pictures.
I loved a woman
She knew it but cast it off
Now I am lost
Alone at sea
But I so hope she is happy
The moon never wanted to eclipse
It was just Venus up to her tricks
Big Bear was evolved
Another planet had revolved
Hot tempestuous sun
Planet love just out for kicks.
I have wished you something
None of the others would:
Not the usual stuff
About being beautiful,
Or running off a spring
Of innocence and love -
They will all wish you that,
And should it prove possible,
Well, you’re a lucky girl.
But if it shouldn’t, then
May you be ordinary;
Have, like other women,
An average of talents:
Not ugly, not good-looking,
To pull you off your balance,
That, unworkable itself,
Stops all the rest from working.
In fact, may you be dull -
If that is what a skilled,
Catching of happiness is called.
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.
I look at you and you know what I see?
I see green. Green are your eyes, that have look somewhere else,
But I love just the same. Green eyes that deceived me,
Green was the color of betrayal.
Green is the color of the pain in your eyes.
Green is the color of a liar,
Green was the grass in the day that you told me
How much you would love me
Forever and always
Green was the room
Where I found you with her,
Green was the color of pain,
Green was betrayal
Green is a mystery,
Green can be joyful,
Green can be painful,
Green can be pretty,
Green can mean love,
Green can mean hate,
I see green when I see you,
Green is your color,
Green it will be,
Green are your eyes, that have hurt me so deeply but I love just the same.
For the Fallen
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?