Grace Ambrose finding a way without being sorry. Blair Borish I stole codes reversed, ocelots. Nick Montfort I am not so easily summarized Kayl Cecchini At least friendships don't require visas Janine Catalano Brighter light makes the shadow darker. Cindia Huang Make lemonade when life presents them Lyneisha Dickenson the hits just keep on coming Erin Gautsche i'm not so good at following rules Adrian Khacthu life's an itch I can't scratch Caitlin Hennessy What the hell is going on? Daniel Melamed Never give up the struggle. Irving Jones I still do not regret anything.
Katie Antonsson Yes, I have made maple syrup. Neha J. Please, Time, I am not ready. Chris Rippel If it's easy, am I missing something? Chris Rippel A decision was made, I complied. Marjorie Maine Too happy, suicidal on the inside Anonymous My life, lived inside my head. Mazloumian What to do with word seven. John Meo I am this now and always. Anita Avent Talking without action is just complaining Kevin Wold Bathed dead baby while parents wept. Kathleen Tillman RN Teachers eating misery. Misery eating students. Nina Maruca So young, and yet so damaged.
Shane Sovik Aorta tears again and again. Joe Pergola live a little, love a lot Katie French Afraid to write the wrong poems. Syra Ortiz-Blanes Kid gets magic set, pursues dream. Gerry Katzman new language. Ken Olson Love, pray, wait on God's time. Kelly Bonnickson I never believed this would happen. Kailey Zitaner Still searching for that silver lining. Michele Parker Randall Wings on feet, story in hand. Gionni Ponce Saved by grace, free at last. Angela Vertucci Dorms are weird er in your thirties. Jamie-Lee Josselyn Woof, woof! I live in Hill! Primo Left to seal my bastion fate Maxwell Bolno Oh, shit.
Where are my keys? OR Let go of it--it's gone. OR Words were everything. Words fall apart. Alexandra Bousquet That evening the sun didn't set. Zoe Stoller Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. OR Not much has changed since then. Santiago Cortes Maybe art school was a mistake. Holiday Campanella Each year balder than the last. Donald Antenen this is just another story! Nay, let them only see us, while Paul Laurence Dunbar Rosanna Deerchild. Wild Nights — Wild Nights!
Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Rowing in Eden — Ah, the Sea! Might I but moor — Tonight — In Thee! Emily Dickinson Solitude Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own. Sing, and the hills will answer; Sigh, it is lost on the air; The echoes bound to a joyful sound, But Ella Wheeler Wilcox Sonnet LV: Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Not marble nor the gilded monuments Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme, But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone besmeared with sluttish time.
Application Form Please read all the instructions carefully before proceeding. Use only permanent blue or black ink. If you have special needs that require accommodation, please explain. The information you provide should not be limited by the space allowed. If you require more space, append another sheet of paper. In the blanks below please Phoebe Wang. Why, Because the Dazzling Sun Ah! I was at peace, and drank your beams Crossing the Bar Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless William Wordsworth Brenda Hillman b.
And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O, well for the sailor lad, That he sings O wilt thou therefore rise from me? Love, which in spite of darkness brought us hither, Should in despite of light keep us together. Light hath no tongue, but is all eye; If it could speak as well It would be quite impossible to have less sense of Michael Ondaatje b. A Stone Diary At the beginning I noticed the huge stones on my path I knew instinctively why they were there breathing as naturally as animals I moved Pat Lowther When I consider how my light is spent When I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one Talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide; Harryette Mullen b.
A Dream Within a Dream Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow — You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Sun Bear yesterday at the Oakland zoo I was walking alone for a moment past the enclosure holding the sun bear also known as beruang madu it looked at me without interest it has powerful jaws and truly loves honey it sleeps in a high hammock its claws look made out of wood and if it dreams at all it is of Malaysia Matthew Zapruder b.
Poetry I too, dislike it: there are things that are important beyond all this fiddle. Billy-Ray Belcourt. Common Magic Your best friend falls in love and her brain turns to water. You stop for lunch in a Bronwen Wallace The Gods and Fortune take their part Who like young monarchs fight; And boldly dare invade that heart John Dryden Joy Harjo b.
Invitation to Love Come when the nights are bright with stars Or when the moon is mellow; Come when the sun his golden bars Drops on the hay-field yellow. You are sweet, O Love, dear Love, Heat From plains that reel to southward, dim, The road runs by me white and bare; Up the steep hill it seems to swim Beyond, and melt into the glare. Upward half-way, or it may be Nearer the summit, slowly steals A hay-cart, moving dustily With idly Say this Was something reported as news On a day when your life came to no good.
The new homeless drifting from row houses Along streets tamped down by the heedless And paved in afterthought. Out of hollows James Langer b. Shane Book.
And you O my soul where you stand, Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending Cowboy Story The books sit on the shelf, a row of coma patients in a ward, a series of selves no longer able to learn and trapped at the point of injury: the last page.
At the donor clinic I offer my arm to the spigot of the needle and think, as I see the bag fill with blood, there goes some of me. George Murray b. Through the windows — through doors — burst like a ruthless force, Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation, Into the school where the scholar is studying; Leave not the bridegroom quiet — no happiness must he have now with his bride, Nor the peaceful farmer any peace, ploughing his field or From me he I Have Not Lingered in European Monasteries I have not lingered in European monasteries and discovered among the tall grasses tombs of knights who fell as beautifully as their ballads tell; I have not parted the grasses or purposefully left them thatched Leonard Cohen Ralph Waldo Emerson Stuart Ross b.
Not Waving But Drowning 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 Stevie Smith Leigh Hunt Or as Robin teaches the gap, from which all things emerge. A left handed compliment. Bats, houses of parliament, giants, stones.
What woman, witness to such Thought, does not feel Sharon Thesen b. There are secret passwords you Joy Kogawa b. Rudyard Kipling Five Postcards from Jericho Dear Regret, my leaning this morning, my leather foot, want of stone, age old, my burnished and bruised, hair lingering, hand caked, spongy as November, my dear Relentless, my dear Aging, Sina Queyras b. Their numbers as he watched, Beat on the dusty shore and were obscured. Charles Lamb To an Athlete Dying Young The time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-place; Man and boy stood cheering by, And home we brought you shoulder-high.
Today, the road all runners come, Shoulder-high we bring you home, And set you at your threshold down, Townsman of a stiller town. Smart lad Housman Ted Berrigan The Lake Isle of Innisfree I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings Nicole Brossard b.
Epitaph On her Son H. Youth and Beauty both are dust. Long we gathering are with pain, What one moment calls again. Seven years childless marriage past, A Son, a son is born at last: So Katherine Philips I wanna live, son. But which son are you? What still Canisia Lubrin b. Paul Muldoon b. Porphyria's Lover The rain set early in to-night, The sullen wind was soon awake, It tore the elm-tops down for spite, And did its worst to vex the lake: I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria: straight She shut the cold out and the storm, And kneeled You are on the highway, there is a kind of laughter, the cars pound south. Over your shoulder the scrub-grass, the fences, the fields wait patiently as though someone believed in them.
The light has laid it upon them. Dennis Lee b. The Second Coming Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate Robert Burns Tide Would I have seen her?
The tide tugging her gently past the Comfort Inn; houses, tall and gabled, the bridge and its passersby. This is not a hidden place. The graze and drag of her, clumsy, obstructive in the divided caress of eelgrass. No search. Eight days. Soraya Peerbaye b. Connie Fife b. The Emperor of Ice-Cream Call the roller of big cigars, The muscular one, and bid him whip In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.
Let be be finale of seem. The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream. Take from the Wallace Stevens O Captain!
My Captain! O the bleeding drops of red, Emma Healey b. The Dead How great unto the living seem the dead! How sacred, solemn; how heroic grown; How vast and vague, as they obscurely tread The shadowy confines of the dim unknown! Charles Heavysege Kamau Brathwaite b. Revenge Ay, gaze upon her rose-wreathed hair, And gaze upon her smile; Seem as you drank the very air Her breath perfumed the while: And wake for her the gifted line, That wild and witching lay, And swear your heart is as a shrine, That only Letitia Elizabeth Landon Hip-Hop Ghazal Gotta love us brown girls, munching on fat, swinging blue hips, decked out in shells and splashes, Lawdie, bringing them woo hips.
As the jukebox teases, watch my sistas throat the heartbreak, inhaling bassline, cracking backbone and singing thru hips. Patricia Smith b. Wioletta Greg b. Fear of Snakes The snake can separate itself from its shadow, move on ribbons of light, taste the air, the morning and the evening, the darkness at the heart of things. I remember when my fear of snakes left for good, Lorna Crozier b. Dover Beach The sea is calm tonight. The tide is full, the moon lies fair Upon the straits; on the French coast the light Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand, Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air! Only, from the long line of spray Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land, Matthew Arnold On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have We laugh. Everyone is half-naked in I-See-U.
Behind a grey curtain, a thump and quiet invoke Code Blue. We uncover your bottom line, the Left Main of a black-and-white heart, hand-drawn Madhur Anand b. Thomas Hardy Laurentian Shield Hidden in wonder and snow, or sudden with summer, This land stares at the sun in a huge silence Endlessly repeating something we cannot hear. Inarticulate, arctic, Not written on by history, empty as paper, Scott The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls The tide rises, the tide falls, The twilight darkens, the curlew calls; Along the sea-sands damp and brown The traveller hastens toward the town, And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls, But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls; The little waves, with their soft, white Wayde Compton b. Ode on Solitude Happy the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air, In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire, Whose trees in summer yield him shade, Alexander Pope Annabel Lee It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child, Hoa Nguyen b. Trillium the animal in me is constant. Gwen Benaway These are mine acolytes and these my choir, And this mine altar in the cool green shade, Where the wild soft-eyed does draw nigh Wondering, as in the byre Of Bethlehem the oxen heard Thy cry Marjorie Pickthall Claire Harris b. The Lonely Land Cedar and jagged fir uplift sharp barbs against the gray and cloud-piled sky; and in the bay blown spume and windrift and thin, bitter spray Smith From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Katherena Vermette b.
Helen All Greece hates the still eyes in the white face, the lustre as of olives where she stands, and the white hands. All Greece reviles But I cannot leave them Adebe D. What horror to awake at night What horror to awake at night and in the dimness see the light. Lorine Niedecker Thou Poem Thou poem of lost attention and half try, do you fear more the inner world or outer? I do not love the self less than the others, my name is legion and my mouth one cry. Moritz b. The sedge has withered from the lake, And no birds sing. O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, So haggard and so woe-begone?
A Fixed Idea What torture lurks within a single thought When grown too constant, and however kind, However welcome still, the weary mind Aches with its presence.
Six Word Memoirs
Dull remembrance taught Remembers on unceasingly; unsought The old delight is with us but to find That all recurring joy is pain refined, Become a habit, and we struggle, caught Amy Lowell Klein Rachel Boast b. The Road Not Taken Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as I step through snow as thin as script Watch white stars spin dizzy as George Elliott Clarke b.
Near them, on the sand, Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, Kateri Akiwenzie-Damm b. My Brother at 3 A. He sat cross-legged, weeping on the steps when Mom unlocked and opened the front door. O God, he said. O God. He wants to kill me, Mom.
When Mom unlocked and opened the front door at 3 a. He wants to kill me, he Natalie Diaz. I say drop a mouse into a Billy Collins b. For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And Lord George Gordon Byron Lynn Crosbie. The Princess: Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk; Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font.
The firefly wakens; waken thou with me. Now droops the milk-white peacock like a ghost, And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. Hail Hello from inside the albatross with a windproof lighter and Japanese police tape. Adam Dickinson b. Kubla Khan Or, a vision in a dream. A Fragment. So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round; And Samuel Taylor Coleridge To be relationship advice for L.
To be a more comfortable hospital bed for my mother. To be, in my spare time, America for my uncle, who wants to be China Chen Chen b. Fire and Ice Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice. Interesting People of Newfoundland Newfoundland is, or was, full of interesting people. Like Larry, who would make a fool of himself on street corners for a nickel.
There was the Russian who called himself the Grand Duke, and who was said to be a real duke from somewhere, John Ashbery - Blackberrying Nobody in the lane, and nothing, nothing but blackberries, Blackberries on either side, though on the right mainly, A blackberry alley, going down in hooks, and a sea Somewhere at the end of it, heaving. Blackberries Big as the ball of my thumb, and dumb as eyes Ebon in the hedges, fat With blue-red juices.
These they squander on my Sylvia Plath — If Stone Dreams We cannot know this statue, this satyr with his head propped on a wineskin; we cannot know if he dreams. For what has been lost we are to blame, for what has been kept to be thrown away. Mary di Michele b. Susie Asado Sweet sweet sweet sweet sweet tea. Susie Asado. Sweet sweet sweet sweet sweet tea. Susie Asado which is a told tray sure. A lean on the shoe this means Gertrude Stein Richard Lovelace Oh, Hope!
How shall I lure thee to my haunts forlorn! For me wilt thou renew the withered rose, And clear my painful path of pointed thorn? Ah come, sweet nymph! Charlotte Smith Song Go, lovely rose! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung Edmund Waller Earle Birney So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin On his face.
If he worried he hid it. He started to sing as he tackled the thing Edgar Albert Guest Badlands Your father worked Drumheller while you ate and slept at home. He travelled the badlands, squatted below rocks, read books you never knew he read. He sat until his eyes strained to know what the prairie insisted he must see. Once he found a hoodoo, toppled after centuries of reaching beyond the flattened earth we all become and remembering that, Mathew Henderson b. Plenty The sky, lit up like a question or an applause meter, is beautiful like everything else today: the leaves in the gutters, salt stains on shoes, the girl at the IGA who looks just like Kevin Connolly b.
Joanne Arnott b. Not Horses What I adore is not horses, with their modern domestic life span of 25 years. Natalie Shapero b. And yet I know that not for us, By any ecstasy of dream, He lingers to keep luminous Opus 75, Sestina in B-flat for the Glockenspiel In the empty classroom, at sunrise, a girl sits on the floor, staring at a glockenspiel.
The cranky girl has Adam Sol. Yes, pity. Mind you, this is a real beaut. I mean, none of your blood caked on the walls and flesh flying out of the windows, inconveniencing the passers-by with this one. I mean, my life has been building up to this. May I ask you to reconsider. I mean, you wouldn't regret it. Think of the tourist trade. Yes, well, of course, this is just the sort blinkered philistine pig ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage. You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads, not caring a tinker's cuss about the struggling artist.
You lousy hypocritical whining toadies with your lousy colour TV sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleeding masonic handshakes!
- Education Civique et Morale et Valeurs Socioculturelles: (Niveau collège) (Harmattan Guinée) (French Edition).
- The Plays the Thing: Teachers Roles in Childrens Play, 2nd Edition (Early Childhood Education Series)!
- Life on the Farm (Dear Audrey Book 1);
- Saturday Mornings (The Mississippi McGills Book 3).
- How to Become a Poet;
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You wouldn't let me join, would you, you blackballing bastards. Well I wouldn't become a freemason now if you went down on your lousy, stinking, purulent knees and begged me. Well, we're sorry you feel like that but we, er, did want a block of flats. Nice though the abattoir is. Oh blows raspberry the abattoir, that's not important. But if any of you could put in a word for me I'd love to be a freemason. Freemasonry opens doors. I mean, I was I was a bit on edge just now, but if I were a mason I'd sit at the back and not get in anyone's way.
I'm sorry about that, gentlemen. The second architect is Mr Leavey of Wymis and Dibble.
Good morning gentlemen. This is a scale model of the block. There are twenty-eight storeys, with two hundred and eighty modern apartments. There are three main lifts and two service lifts. Access would be from Dibbingley Road. The dividing walls on each floor section are fixed by recessed magnalium flanged grooves. Quite frankly, I think the central pillar system may need strengthening a bit. Well, I don't know whether I'd worry about strengthening that much. After all, they're not meant to be luxury flats.
I quite agree. I mean, providing the tenants are of light build and relatively sedentary and er, given a spot of good weather, I think we're on to a winner here. Thank you very much. Thank you. Shot from camera concealed in a car so we get reactions of passers-by. A busy city street - i. Threadneedle Street. In amongst the throng four city gents are leaping along with their trousers round their ankles.
They are wearing bowler hats and pinstripes. Another city street or another part of the same street. Two city gents, with trousers rolled up to the knee, approach each other and go into the most extraordinary handshake which involves rolling on the floor etc. Having once identified a mason immediate steps must be taken to isolate him from the general public.
Choice Words: Writers on Abortion by Annie Finch — Kickstarter
Having accomplished that it is now possible to cure him of these unfortunate masonic tendencies through the use of behavioural psychotherapy. Let us begin. Would you like to give up being a mason? Think carefully. Pull out from caption to reveal that it is not a caption after all but a huge twenty-foot-square poster on a hoarding on the side of the road.
The 8 Signs You’ve Written A Good Poem
After we pull out we hear the shuffling of many feet and grunting. A group of Gumbys shuffle into extreme left edge of frame. They do not move any futher into the picture. After a bit of humming and harring:.
And the next item is called 'Insurance Sketch'. Well I've come about your special fully comprehensive motor insurance policy offer Oh, oh, yes You see, it turned out not to be commercially viable, so we now have a totally new offer You get a nude lady with a fully comprehensive motor insurance.
If you just want third party she has to keep her bra on, and if it's just theft Mr Devious. I just want to know what it would cost me to have a fully comprehensive inurance on a Aston Martin. No, no, look, I'm not interested in any af that. Can you please qoute me your price. I don't know, mush, I'll have to look in the script Show 8. Are you 'man? Oh, yeah, yeah - well, you see, it's just that we're not But my car was hit by a lorry while standing in the garage and you refuse to pay my claim. It states quite clearly that no claim you make will be paid. You see, you unfortunately plumped for our 'Neverpay' policy, which, you know, if you never claim is very worthwhile I hate to see a man cry, so shove off out the office, there's a good chap.
The vicar goes out sobbing. Cut to outside. Vicar collects a nude lady sitting in a supermarket shopping trolley Cut back to inside of office. Close-up of Devious. He gets out some files and starts writing. Suddenly a bishop's crook slams down on the desk in front of Devious. He looks up - his eyes register terror. Cut to reverse angle shot from below. The bishop in full mitre and robes. Animated crime-series-type titles, with suitable music: 'C. Birds singing, a hymn being sung. Suddenly, sound of a high-powered car roaring towards the church. Screech of tires as a huge open-top American car screeches to a halt outside the church.
The bishop leaps out. Behind him as throughout the film are his four henchmen They wear clerical suits and dog collars. They leap out of their car and race up the drive towards the church. As they do so the hymn is heard to come to an end. Sound of people sitting down. Cut to interior of church. Vicar climbing up into pulpit. Cut back to exterior.
The bishop and his vicars racing through the doors. Interior of church. Shot of vicar in pulpit. The pulpit explodes. Vicar disappears in smoke, flying up into the air. Cut to close-up of the bishop. Behind him there is smoke and people rushing about. Sound of people scrambling over pews in panic etc. The end of the bishop's crook suddenly starts flashing. He lifts the flashing end off and it stops.