Fleeting is the fortunate, fanciful fame
Wake not where from wistful, wondrous dreams
Pursued perchance by perfectly popular shame
Transcended most torturous tasks and themes
Now some nine and twenty nights of your name
Behold the beginnings of bright and beautiful fame
For in those feelings first, and foremost
Lies a love of life that lays no blame
And a chanting chorus you come to compose
A song for heroic hearts to heal half the shame
I dig all your phases
I really dig this deep poem...
oh to walk barefoot in that mind of yours...
where does one find THIS kind of inspiration...and depth.
very cool poem jer...dont they call this "head rhyme" too.*S*
so tell me...WHERE did you write THIS one? (smile)...BIG SMILE LOL
stalking you with a visual LOL
An armour, friends! I pray you, let me see it.
Thanks, fortune, yet, that, after all my crosses,
Thou givest me somewhat to repair myself;
And though it was mine own, part of my heritage,
Which my dead father did bequeath to me.
With this strict charge, even as he left his life,
'Keep it, my Pericles; it hath been a shield
Twixt me and death;'--and pointed to this brace;--
'For that it saved me, keep it; in like necessity--
The which the gods protect thee from!--may defend thee.'
"The men who died were not all heroes, but by their death they have made up for shortcomings. I know that for love of Athens they were glad to do so. They were all alike, swept away from a world filled for their dying eyes not with terror, but with glory." - Pericles