General Forum

General Forum

  1. Standard memberGrampy Bobby
    Boston Lad
    USA
    Joined
    14 Jul '07
    Moves
    43012
    09 Jan '13 07:47
    Secret of Life

    Once during the war
    on a bus going to Portsmouth
    a navy yard worker
    told me the secret of life.

    The secret of life, he said,
    can never be passed down
    one generation to the other.

    The secret of life, he said,
    is hunger. It makes an open hand.

    The secret of life is money.
    But only the small coins.

    The secret of life, he said,
    is love. You become what you lose.

    The secret of life, he said,
    is water. The world will end
    in flood.

    The secret of life, he said,
    is circumstance.

    If you catch the right bus
    at the right time
    you will sit next
    to the secret teller

    who will whisper it
    in your ear.

    (Diana Der-Hovanessian)
  2. SubscriberPonderable
    chemist
    Linkenheim
    Joined
    22 Apr '05
    Moves
    531460
    13 Jan '13 07:22
    Edward Hirsch


    Green Figs

    I want to live like that little fig tree
    that sprouted up at the beach last spring
    and spread its leaves over the sandy rock.

    All summer its stubborn green fruit
    (tiny flowers covered with a soft skin)
    ripened and grew in the bright salt spray.

    The Tree of the Knowledge of Good
    and Evil was a fig tree, or so it is said,
    but this wild figure was a wanton stray.

    I need to live like that crooked tree—
    solitary, bittersweet, and utterly free—
    that knelt down in the hardest winds

    but could not be blasted away.
    It kept its eye on the far horizon
    and brought honey out of the rock.
  3. Standard memberGrampy Bobby
    Boston Lad
    USA
    Joined
    14 Jul '07
    Moves
    43012
    13 Jan '13 07:27
    A Watcher

    The mail doesn't come
    and doesn't come.
    The mail doesn't come.
    It's three o'clock, I've been
    downstairs to check, and up again,
    and down and up — it
    doesn't come.

    Incognito in the little shops
    is how I want to go.
    And in and out
    about the neighbourhood,
    observing unobserved.

    And yet I long, I long.
    Long to be known, and know.

    (Robyn Sarah)
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