Friday, August 31, 2012

The Other side of a Mirror

I sat before my glass one day,
And conjured up a vision bare,
Unlike the aspects glad and gay,
That erst were found reflected there -
The vision of a woman, wild
With more than womanly despair.
Her hair stood back on either side
A face bereft of loveliness.
It had no envy now to hide
What once no man on earth could guess.
It formed the thorny aureole
Of hard, unsanctified distress.

Her lips were open - not a sound
Came though the parted lines of red,
Whate'er it was, the hideous wound
In silence and secret bled.
No sigh relieved her speechless woe,
She had no voice to speak her dread.

And in her lurid eyes there shone
The dying flame of life's desire,
Made mad because its hope was gone,
And kindled at the leaping fire
Of jealousy and fierce revenge,
And strength that could not change nor tire.

Shade of a shadow in the glass,
O set the crystal surface free!
Pass - as the fairer visions pass -
Nor ever more return, to be
The ghost of a distracted hour,
That heard me whisper: - 'I am she!” 

-Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

Thursday, August 23, 2012


When all the laughter dies in sorrow
And the tears have risen to a flood
When all the wars have found a cause
In human wisdom and in blood
Do you think they'll cry in sadness
Do you think the eye will blink
Do you think they'll curse the madness
Do you even think they'll think
When all the great galactic systems
Sigh to a frozen halt in space
Do you think there will be some remnant
Of beauty of the human race
Do you think there will be a vestige
Or a sniffle or a cosmic tear
Do you think a greater thinking thing
Will give a damn that man was here 

From Chicago 111.

Friday, August 3, 2012


Color is my mood,
Dark or light I'm wearing it right,
Blue oceans make me feel calmed;
Shades of green make me think; 
Nature is wonderful and I'm here. 
I don't think I could survive a day full of white. 
Not all roses are red, Not all stones are gray;
Because this is a world living in shades.

C. Luna

Wednesday, August 1, 2012


If I don't drive around the park, 
I'm pretty sure to make my mark. 
If I'm in bed each night by ten, 
I may get back my looks again, 
If I abstain from fun and such, 
I'll probably amount to much, 
But I shall stay the way I am, 
Because I do not give a damn. 

Dorothy Parker


Her mind lives in a quiet room,
A narrow room, and tall,
With pretty lamps to quench the gloom
And mottoes on the wall.

There all the things are waxen neat
And set in decorous lines;
And there are posies, round and sweet,
And little, straightened vines.

Her mind lives tidily, apart
From cold and noise and pain,
And bolts the door against her heart,
Out wailing in the rain. 

Dorothy Parker