Monday 29 August 2011

The only bit I like


They sleep beyond England's foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound, 
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight, 
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known 
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust, 
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain; 
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness, 
To the end, to the end, they remain.

How Fake


Oh Living Eye, Come Tell Me Why.

Alone and yet alive,
My soul is still my body's prisoner.
Why when hope is gone,
do you stay on,
May not a cheated maiden die?

Hearts do not break,
They sting and ache.


Curvy


“I fear I’ve done some things in life too late and others too early.”

Did I Really?