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Posts Tagged ‘literature’

We have not wings, we cannot soar;
But we have feet to scale and climb
By slow degrees, by more and more,
The cloudy summits of our time

The mighty pyramids of stone
That wedge-like cleave the desert airs,

English: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, circa 1850.

English: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, circa 1850. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

When nearer seen, and better known,
Are but gigantic flights of stairs.

The distant mountains, that uprear
Their solid bastions to the skies,
Are crossed by pathways, that appear
As we to higher levels rise.

The heights by great men reached and kept
Were not attained by sudden flight,
But they, while their companions slept,
Were toiling upward in the night.
 

    By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

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Woman in a rowing boat

Woman in a rowing boat (Photo credit: National Media Museum)

The cocoon of self wrapped tight

Cloaking the sleeping bud/ hiding out of sight

Some impetus/forces / agitates crisis

Of movement and change/no longer comfortable/slices

Through membranes, collapsing inward/dying to allow self/ to escape

Up and out/ full term/ sliding and scraped

 At first tentative/ peeping, cautious/ first steps/then bolder  

Sustained hunger/ now compelling satiety

Metamorphosis a reality

Rapidly changing structures/ transforming the newly minted canvas

Imagined perception/ crumbling/ it was supposed to be … but is total morass

Joszann St. John

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John Donne, one of the most famous Metaphysica...

John Donne, one of the most famous Metaphysical Poets.

COME live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines and silver hooks.

There will the river whisp’ring run
Warm’d by thy eyes, more than the sun ;
And there th’ enamour’d fish will stay,
Begging themselves they may betray.

When thou wilt swim in that live bath,
Each fish, which every channel hath,
Will amorously to thee swim,
Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.

If thou, to be so seen, be’st loth,
By sun or moon, thou dark’nest both,
And if myself have leave to see,
I need not their light, having thee.

Let others freeze with angling reeds,
And cut their legs with shells and weeds,
Or treacherously poor fish beset,
With strangling snare, or windowy net.

Let coarse bold hands from slimy nest
The bedded fish in banks out-wrest ;
Or curious traitors, sleeve-silk flies,
Bewitch poor fishes’ wand’ring eyes.

For thee, thou need’st no such deceit,
For thou thyself art thine own bait :
That fish, that is not catch’d thereby,
Alas ! is wiser far than I.

 

By John Donne

 

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Hi Everyone,

Sonnets in Waking MomentsHope you are doing well,  a bit chilly outside today in New York City but I’m not complaining. A very busy time in my life right now, I relish it.You know sometimes we get bored and we yearn for change.
Movement is always a good thing,don’t under-estimate it’s importance  in your life.It is helping you birth your best creative energy.

You can now read a preview of my new book Sonnets in waking Moments on the Xlibris Website.

http://bookstore.xlibris.com/Products/SKU-0113210049/Sonnets-in-Waking-Moments.aspx – Paper Back

http://bookstore.xlibris.com/Products/SKU-0113210050/Sonnets-in-Waking-Moments.aspx  – Hard Back

Would love to know your thoughts on my new novel!

Sincerely Joszann

 

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My new book is here.

http://bookstore.xlibris.com/Products/SKU-0113210049/Sonnets-in-Waking-Moments.aspx – Paper Back

http://bookstore.xlibris.com/Products/SKU-0113210050/Sonnets-in-Waking-Moments.aspx  – Hard Back

 Sonnets in Waking Moments

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Quotes

“Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see” by Mark Twain.

Kindness

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She gathers the pieces of a discarded letter

Crushing them in her small hands

An almost burnt-down lit candle on a candle ho...

Up since midnight/

A coherent sentence – evades her

She wants to end it.

Yesterday in the dell/ she happened upon them

Drawn by the sweet tinkling laughter of a woman/in love

It was their own secret place/no one else should have been there

How could he?

Two timing/Matthew Horner

She looks at his photograph hanging in the corner.

He has broken her heart

After promising that they would never part

She has loved and lost

Broken emotions/ and shattered trust

And the tears boil over

Here in her room she mourns

For that which she thought she had.

 

By Joszann St.John

 

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