Poems and Stories to warm the heart! | ||
Freakish homepage | About Freakish | Picture dictionary of Monsters | What's New at Freakish | Contact Freakish | Our Lady Peace | Poems and Short Stories | The Freakish Guestbook | Petitions | Links | Photo4 Page | Photo5 Page | Photo6 Page | Catalog Page | Shopping Page Page | Slide Show Page | Favorite Links Page | Custom2 Page | Custom3 Page |
Puppies for Sale |
||
|
||
Our Lady Peace by Mark Van Doren How far is it to peace, the piper sighed, The solitary, sweating as he paused. Asphalt the noon; the ravens, terrified, Fled carrion thunder that percussion caused. . The envelope of Earth was powder loud; The taut wings shivered, driven at the sun. The piper put his pipe away and bowed. Not here, he said. I hunt the love-cool one, . The dancer with the clipped hair. Where is she? We shook our heads, parting for him to pass. Our lady was of no such trim degree, And none of us had seen her face alas. . She was the very ridges that we must scale, Securing the rough top. And how she smiled Was how our strength would issue. Not to fail Was having her, gigantis, undefiled, . For homely goddess, big as the world that burned, Grandmother and taskmistress, frild and town. We let the stranger go; but when we turned Our lady lived, fierce in each other's frown. |
||
The Poems by Our Lady Peace Bloom by Raine Maida. Excited by the distance Purple dreams terrorize open space extremely ambitious Gasping and sucking in air a different air We feel the struggle as it cools Dawn reveals... Their rooted charm makes for a beautiful battle We revel in their existence We are patient and we listen Or maybe we're simply the devil with fabulous insistence ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ========================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sleeping In by Raine Maida Souls, although where we meet. This Hose a lazy morphine. But I, I'm stretching to see over Your shoulders and over your priest And paper cups and paper shoes Give backs to me, but I see right through And I know why you over slept So gray, gray, slow rain. . I'm happier than you. . And I'm too high to follow through . Home, like the bed pan he needs. And the hose that's not supposed to be But I, I'm stretching to see over your Flowers and Time magazines Now I believe in what you do The pain will cease Well I know why you overslept To be home, to be. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ========================= ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Been Thinking Lately by Mike Turner Been thinking lately, a lot about death and how the one that matters the least is your own, Not that it's inconsequential, just not that relevant. The death of circumstance is the one that counts. Death will change everything From your pet bird to the person that gave you life. At some point it will take them from you, where once was a letter will be blank Not that this comes as any surprise, you remember when you figured out that this whole mortality thing meant you as well. Then, childlike, even death became about you. You became singular, alone in this confrontation. Truth is, it's not death that confounded you but life. Your life isn't about you, it's about the things you go through, including death. But not yours. Your life will flow and ebb, with death the tide. And some branches will not survive, but the tree lives on. People will come into your life and change you. And your life. People will leave your life and change you. in your life. And when you leave this life, that will not change you. |