How about a war to fund all wars?

The English are rebuilding Hadrian’s Wall.
The space between the frozen tears is small.
Vision is attenuated there.
Emotions tangle, stutter are appalled
Homo sapiens, why did they call?
Vision is restricted, eyes are bare
The space between the frozen tears is small.
The English are rebuilding Hadrian’s Wall.
No Scottish Muslims can cross England, oh, my dear.
Emotions jangle, stutter, are appalled
Historic acts return as do old brawls
Roman villas, altars, what is here?
Vision is restricted, eyes a shield
How about a girder round Whitehall?
Let’s wall off Wales, they asked for more
Emotions rise and angry are our calls
The Scots must raise new taxes, we’re the whores.
How about a war to fund all wars?
The English are rebuilding Hadrian’s Wall.
Feelings surge as anger grips us all

The Flower

The Flower


How fresh, oh Lord, how sweet and clean
Are thy returns! even as the flowers in spring;
         To which, besides their own demean,
The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring.
                      Grief melts away
                      Like snow in May,
         As if there were no such cold thing.

         Who would have thought my shriveled heart
Could have recovered greenness? It was gone
         Quite underground; as flowers depart
To see their mother-root, when they have blown,
                      Where they together
                      All the hard weather,
         Dead to the world, keep house unknown.

         These are thy wonders, Lord of power,
Killing and quickening, bringing down to hell
         And up to heaven in an hour;
Making a chiming of a passing-bell.
                      We say amiss
                      This or that is:
         Thy word is all, if we could spell.

         Oh that I once past changing were,
Fast in thy Paradise, where no flower can wither!
         Many a spring I shoot up fair,
Offering at heaven, growing and groaning thither;
                      Nor doth my flower
                      Want a spring shower,
         My sins and I joining together.

         But while I grow in a straight line,
Still upwards bent, as if heaven were mine own,
         Thy anger comes, and I decline:
What frost to that? what pole is not the zone
                      Where all things burn,
                      When thou dost turn,
         And the least frown of thine is shown?

         And now in age I bud again,
After so many deaths I live and write;
         I once more smell the dew and rain,
And relish versing. Oh, my only light,
                      It cannot be
                      That I am he
         On whom thy tempests fell all night.

         These are thy wonders, Lord of love,
To make us see we are but flowers that glide;
         Which when we once can find and prove,
Thou hast a garden for us where to bide;
                      Who would be more,
                      Swelling through store,
         Forfeit their Paradise by their pride

The pairing knife’s on sale

From ad on Amazon

Perfect for holding a variety of knives including pairing knife, vegetable knife, small cooks knife, bread knife, carving knife, utility knife, steak knife, etc.
Kitchen Ware

Send me a pairing knife,dear Lord
I’m feeling lonesome, life is hard
Will there be instructions
How to get some introductions
By cutting out the hard parts of my heart?

Pairing knives are new to me,oh God
I hope I wil not cut off my own head
Is ir a delusion
A psychiatrist’s confusion?
Maybe I just need to go to bed

I thought it would be useful to possess
The secret key to happiness,no less
But should we have to purchase
Pairing knives for courtship
I am very puzzled I confess

I think it’s over rated wiith 5 stars
Noone made a comment,noone shared
So where are all the knives?
Are they in the handsof wives
Don’t tell ne I’m sexist,I’m in tears

Noone wants to say they feel alone
Not even dogs come by for bones
I will paint this knife in gold
A fork will pair it, hold
Then the knife will send its spirit to` my phone