The Road Less Traveled
--by Robert Frost
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.

both that morning equally lay
in leaves no step had troden black,
yet, i'll save one for another day
but knowing how way leads on to way
i doubt that i should ever come back

and took the other as just as fair
for having perhaps the better claim,
for it was grassy, and wanted wear
yet, as for the passing there
had worn them really about the same

i shall be telling this with a sigh
somewhere ages and ages hence
two roads diverged in a wood, and i
i took the road less traveled by
and that has made all the difference.

By Aileen Pagan-Welch (Ewokie) on Unrecorded Date:

Nothing Gold Can Stay
by Robert Frost - 1923

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

By Bryan R. Cummings (Houdini) on Unrecorded Date:

Ewokie,

That was a great poem. :) In fact it has inspired
me to write one of my own. Enjoy!

-Houdini
-----------------------------------
Must All This Come To An End?
-by Houdini

Must all good things come to an end?
dying, withering, falling off the branch
must all good things that sparkle soon fade?
For what are endings?
Is it oblivion, bliss, void?
I dare say not as I cry out to thee
for what are endings but beginings that have
yet begun to be?
Does not the death of a flower bring nourishment
to the soil?
For every old man isn't their soon to be birthed
a newborn boy?
The focus should not be on the death of the flower
per say.
But on the richness and fullness of the circle
of life that plays out here on earth, everyday.

Life goes on.

By Aileen Pagan-Welch (Ewokie) on Unrecorded Date:

Hey Bryan,
That was a really great poem you wrote! I liked it a lot!

Here's another really great poem.
-Ewokie

The Cold Within

Six humans trapped by happenstance
In dark and bitter cold.
Each one possessed a stick of wood,
Or so the story's told

Their dying fire in need of logs,
The first woman held hers back.
For on the faces around the fire,
She noticed one was black.

The next man looking accross the way,
Saw one not of his church,
And couldn't bring himself to give
The fire his stick of birch.

The third one sat in tattered clothes,
He gave his coat a hitch.
Why should his log be put to use,
To warm the idle rich?

The rich man just sat back and thought
Of the wealth he had in store.
And how to keep what he had earned
From the lazy, shiftless poor.

The black man's face bespoke revenge
As the fire passed from sight,
For all he saw in his stick of wood
Was a chance to spite the white.

The last man of this forlorn group
Did naught except for gain
Giving only to those who gave
Was how he played the game.

The logs held tight in death's still hands
Was proof of human sin.
They didn't die from the cold without.
They died from-THE COLD WITHIN.

--James Patrick Kenny

By Bryan R. Cummings (Houdini) on Unrecorded Date:

Aileen,

Thanks. I was hoping that you would like my poem.
*grin*

Now, for my impressions and reaction to the poem
"The Cold Within". I liked it, it sent shivers down my spine when I read it. :>

It was very deep, and I guess in a way
sort of Lev. What the poem illustrates is a warning from the author that only when
we share and work toghether as a team
can we truely survive and live well. Sharing
and giving revitalizes the soul. Greed
on the other hand, can destroy the soul.

-Houdini

By Bryan R. Cummings (Houdini) on Unrecorded Date:

            Scolars

      Logic does well at school;
And Reason answers every question right;
Poll-parrot Memory unwinds her spool;
And Copy-cat keeps Teacher well in sight;


The Heart's a truant; nothing does by rule;
Safe in wisdom, is taken for a fool;
Nods through the morning on the dunce's stool;
      And wakes to dream all night.

  -Walter De La Mare

By Bryan R. Cummings (Houdini) on Unrecorded Date:

There is a castle on a cloud.
I like to go there in my sleep.
Crying is simply not allowed.
Not in my castle on a cloud.

By Tony (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

Bryan,
I hope it is appropriate to critique in here, but...

I loved Castle ... it was so simple, but something very real was in there. Did you write it? I sometimes forget what a good poet you are. The sadness yet the joy all rolled into one... hope in the face of hardship, Castle on a Cloud.

Also, I just plain like the image it evokes!

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

It is a song from Les Misarables. Young Cosette sings it when the innkeeper and his wife make her do all the slave-like chores while their own daughter, Eponine, sits around and is spoiled. But, yes, it is a rather emotion-driven snippet.

By Bryan R. Cummings (Houdini) on Unrecorded Date:

He's right ya know. :)

I had the song stuck in my head yesterday. Had to post it. :)

-Houdini

By Bryan (Houdini) on Unrecorded Date:

Nothing more

Once upon a midnight dreary, fingers cramped and vision bleary,
System manuals piled high and wasted paper on the floor,
Longing for the warmth of bedsheets,
Still I sat there, doing spreadsheets:
Having reached the bottom line,
I took a floppy from the drawer.
Typing with a steady hand, I then invoked the SAVE command
and waited for the disk to store,
Only this and nothing more.

Deep into the monitor peering, long I sat there wond'ring, fearing,
Doubting, while the disk kept churning, turning yet to churn some more.
"Save!" I said, "You cursed mother! Save my data from before!"

One thing did the phosphors answer, only this and nothing more, Just,
"Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

Was this some occult illusion? Some maniacal intrusion?

These were choices undesired, ones I'd never faced before.
Carefully, I weighed the choices as the disk made impish noises. The
cursor flashed, insistent, waiting, baiting me to type some more.

Clearly I must press a key, choosing one and nothing more, From Choose
"Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

With my fingers pale and trembling
Slowly toward the keyboard bending,
Longing for a happy ending, hoping all would be restored,
Praying for some guarantee
Timidly I pressed a key.
But on the screen there still persisted words appearing as before.
Ghastly grim they blinked and taunted, haunted, as my patience wore, Saying
"Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

I tried to catch the chips off-guard --
I pressed again, but twice as hard.
I pleaded with the cursed machine: I begged and cried and then I swore.
Now in desperation, trying random combinations,
Still there came the incantation, just as senseless as before.

Cursor blinking, angrily winking, blinking nonsense as before. Reading,
"Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

There I sat, distraught, exhausted by my own machine, accosted
Getting up I turned away and paced across the office floor.
And then I saw dreadful sight: a lightning bolt cut through the night. A gasp of horror overtook me, shook me to my core. The
lightning zapped my previous data, lost and gone forevermore. Not even,
"Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

To this day I do not know The place to which lost data goes.
What demonic nether world is wrought where data will be stored,
Beyond the reach of mortal souls, beyond the ether, into black holes?
But sure as there's C, Pascal, Lotus, Ashton-Tate and more,
You will one day be left to wander, lost on some Plutonian shore, Pleading,
"Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Breathe deep, the gathering gloom.
Watchlights fade from every room.
Bed-sitter people look back and lament:
Another day's useless energy spent.
Empassioned lovers wrestle as one,
Lonely man cries out for love, but has none,
New mother picks up and suckles her son,
Senior citizens wish they were young.
Cold-Hearted orb, that rules the night:
Removes the colors from our sight,
Red is grey and yellow--white,
But we decide which is right...

And which is the Illusion.

By Rigel Nephridil (Nat) on Unrecorded Date:

zero's revenge
I am not an accessory to your demise
I am it’s just cause

Untitled
Dark angel
You come back to make old wounds fresh,
To compromise me with self-pity for your heartless expanse
How is it that love’s illusion once danced in my head
But now when I think of you all I feel is pain
And no refuge exsists for you in me

Untitled 2
As I poked the of ashes of my own funeral pyre,
I prodded a buried object that I lanced with my stick
And lifted from the dust and smoky refuse to bring in to view
Crumpling on the point of the lance was my so called “heart”
That once beat ferociously with love for you
Fused to the outside of it’s crackled surface was bits of old pictures
Which I’d torn into confetti a week or two before
And now it makes no difference what I do to it
Or even if I burn to death once again
Because when I sleep I dream of you
And every inch of my body aches to feel the touch of your lips again
I’d rather burn a million times more than live without you

nat

By Bryan (Houdini) on Unrecorded Date:

Greyfox, Nat:

Wow, great poems. I loved reading them.

Fred your poem is cool. It depicts how easily, I think life's circumstances can change in flash.
However how we view those circumstances greatly depends on our point of view. Nice imagry, I could see the picture of the young mother with her baby, and the orb, which to me was a symbol of the way life changes, was very easy to visualize.

Nat, your poems while dark, also brings out a veil of passion and romance lost. Especially stiring in
your poem entiled "Untitled 2". Somehow I envisioned two views of this poem:

One that the poem was methophorical. That the lover did not really die in flames, but rather felt that way because of a breakup in a relationship or marriage.

But at the same time I could envision a woman or
man physically burning at the stake. My thoughts come to a movie I saw a while ago: The Crucible,
by Arthur Miller. Man was that an intense movie.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

It's from a song by The Moody Blues. Knights in White Satin is the song.

Knights in White Satin
Never reaching the end.
Letters I've written,
Never meaning to send.
Beauty I've always missed
With these eyes before.
Just what the truth is,
I can't say anymore.

>refrain<

'Cause I love you...
Yes, I love you!
I LOVE YOU!

Gazing at people,
Some hand in hand.
Just what I'm going through,
They can't understand.
People speaking thoughts
They cannot defend.
Just what you want to be,
You will be in the end.

>refrain<

Knights in white satin
Never reaching the end.
Letters I've written,
never meaning to send.
Beauty I've always missed
With these eyes before.
Just what the truth is,
I can't say anymore.

>refrain<

>Full London Philharmonic symphony orchestra instrumental<

>Insert previous poem, spoken above symphony in background<

By Aileen Pagan-Welch (Ewokie) on Unrecorded Date:

The Impossible Dream

To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go
To right the unrightable wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest
To follow that star
No matter how hopeless
No matter how far
To fight for the right without question or pause
To be willing to march into hell for a heavenly cause
And I know if I'll only be true
To this glorious quest
Then my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest
And the world will be better for this
That one man scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star

-Don Quixote
“The Man of La Mancha”

By Aileen Pagan-Welch (Ewokie) on Unrecorded Date:

"Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may
be in silence."
- Desiderata

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Put down your remote control, throw out your TV Guide.
Put away your jacket, there's no need to go outside.
Dont'cha know that we control the horizontal...
We control the vertical, too...
We 'gonna make a couch potato out of you!
That's what we're goin' to do, YEAH!

>Refrain<
Don't change the channel!
Don't touch that dial!
We got it all on UHF.
Kick off your sneakers,
Stick around for a while!
We got it all on UHF.
Don't worry worry 'bout your laundry,
forget about your job,
just crank up the volume,
and yank off the knob!
We got it all!
We got it all, on UHF!

Disconnect the phone, now leave the dishes in the sink!
You gotta put away your homework, prime-time ain't no time to think!
What you do is make yourself a TV Dinner!
Plant your face right up against the screen!
We 'gonna show ya things you ain't never seen!
If ya know what I mean, yeah!

>Refrain<

>Guitar Solo<

You can watch us all day, you can watch us all night!
You can watch us any time that you please!
You can sit around and stare at the picture tube,
'till your brain turns into cottage cheese!
WELL, NOW!

>Refrain<

We got it all on UHF!
We got it all on UHF!
>repeat, fade out<

By Rigel Nephridil (Nat) on Unrecorded Date:

My love life stinks, so I figure I'd vent over some unrequited love I'm dealing with. This guy I'm nuts about hangs out with me EVERY SINGLE DAY and it's driving me insane! Oi!


Each day stresses my conviction
And compromises the silence that shrouds my emotions.
You- too angelic to be tangible- by some wonder,
Live in a body that mine aches to touch,
I cower and remain immobile
In case my thirst for you
Should become inextinguishable tempest,
Endurance loses definition in your presence,
The depths of you I struggle to reach seduce all sense of discipline.
Memorizing your gestures and mannerisms
and the sensual gentleness that betrays your physique;
I infer that I’m pained and troubled
By the patterns that you ripple though me
With your paralyzing words and cheeky smile
I silently admit my fascination.


Nat

By Tony (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

Nat, you are an artist with words as well as form.

By Rigel Nephridil (Nat) on Unrecorded Date:

Why, thank you sol, I try =)

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Okay, here's my advice to Nat. And just to stay on topic, it will be written in poetic form:

Write these poems of your love,
to the man who holds your heart.
Sign them as "your secret love"
and give his mind a start.
When many days of this go by,
and he tells you they exist
you admit you love the guy
and start your little tryst!

J

By Rigel Nephridil (Nat) on Unrecorded Date:

Cute, real cute, Phred. Now here's why I can't do that to J.

To confess my devotion
And initiate courtship
Would defeat the purpose of reason
And shatter our frienship

Love is sweet, love is grand
But he claims to feel nothing for me
To persue such a man
would be foolish, you'll agree.


Nat

By Rigel Nephridil (Nat) on Unrecorded Date:

Besides, he's got a date this weekend and it ain't with me =(

By Rigel Nephridil (Nat) on Unrecorded Date:

Another just for the hell of it- just a haiku

Pistachios.
He bought me a bag of pistachios
"just because".

By Bryan (Houdini) on Unrecorded Date:

Haiku poetry suitaible for the infamous
"404 not found" error which has plagued
many a web surfer..


Three things are certain:
Death, taxes, and lost data.
Guess which has occurred.


The Web site you seek
cannot be located but
endless others exist

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

That last one isn't a haiku... It has too many syllables... The last line should read "Endless MORE Exist". That will make it fit...

Biker Haiku Section:

The road stretches on
engine sounds fill my ears
see how Manly I am...

I cruise along quickly
the gravel patch lurked unseen...
Asphalt tastes good

The road is my playground
I drive on one wheel
get outta my way, fool!

J

By Rigel (Nat) on Unrecorded Date:

I read this in my high school poetry publication.

My girlfriend left me for a Yakuza hitman.
Now the b!tch is dead.

By Rigel (Nat) on Unrecorded Date:

Ran into my ex the other day.... Figure I'd share.

Healing
_______
A day in the life
Of my ex-boyfriend
God, how f%<#!ng depressing.

Nat

By Bryan (Houdini) on Unrecorded Date:

The warm sunlight baths me
the cool breeze chils me
the white sand churning beneath my feet

as I walk along the path
to my bungalow
on the isle of saint marie

the seaguls are flying high overhead screaching
and the waves are crashing against the shoreline
both sounds creating a natural synphony

as I walk along the path
to my bungalow
on the isle of saint marie

I look out upon the ocean waters
and think about days long past
smile when I remember the good
and frown when I recall the bad
but then I look out again at the water
and I can not help but smile

as I walk along the path
to my bungalow
on the isle of saint marie

By Tony (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

The Big Deal
Tony Lenzo, 1999


Sol looked nervously back and forth between the thugs. There was Knuckles and Malone, and Freddy "the finger" Fingers. Sol thought for a moment, and passed his hand face-up across the dark table.

"Well, well, well!" said Freddy Fingers, "another straight. Not bad, kid, not bad." Freddy passed a small pile of change over to Sol. Sol's poker face gave nothing away, however.

"Say, Sol, now yooz is pretty good at these here cards," said Malone, "but what I wanna know is when we're gettin' our money."

Sol was quiet. This was the real reason he was invited out for cards anyway.

"Yeah," said Knuckles, "you know, that 20 grand we gave ya fer college 'dere. Yooz is quite the teacher now, t'anks to us, but we ain't seen hide nor hair o' dat cash. What gives? I mean, we're family here."

"I told yooz," said Sol, chomping a Cuban, "I'll have d' money for ya in September. I've been doin' some jobs on d' side, see, and I already paid yooz guys more than half o' what I owe ya."

Freddy Fingers grabs Sol by the collar and pulls him up close. "Dat's not good enough. We want it by 'd end of June. Or else someone is gonna be wearin' a pair o' special slippers. Plaster o' Paris slippers."

Sol shrugged, jerked free, and said, "Okay, okay, no need to get rough!"

As Sol reached to get his winnings, he felt a pain. A cane had snapped the back of his hand. "Dat 'dere is ours. We decided t' charge a little... interest." The 3 thugs laughed. Sol walked out the door into the cold wind as the 3 joked on, playing cards.