Bravo To Practice!

In the morning of melody’s leap from your tongue,
When the tells of your voice are as silver bells rung,
I sit still and I listen as, scaling, you rise
In a practice made perfect that tries, ever tries,
To o’er-power the father of light as he skies!

You have done it, you’ve won it, and done it with fun,
And the sun that I hear is your joy on the run
As it climbs ever higher and soars ever sweet
Round our echoing house that now quivers complete.

These old ceilings and walls need no paper or paint,
They have heard every word of their beautiful saint;
They have heard every syllable sung and flung free
To themselves that were lonely when only a tree.

Now the floors and the furniture seem so much more
As they’re lifted and gifted with notes that in-pour,
And my coffee tastes better, my body’s more sound,
With your passionate practice of soaring unbound!

I will never down practice as deed undesired;
I will never say “No, oh, please, no; I’m too tired;”
I will never grow weary of beauty so true
As it pours and it soars from the sunrise of you!

On the concert-hall stage you’ll be standing alone,
As on top of a mountain of darkness and stone.
Then you’ll open your mouth as a practice begun
And the ears of some thousands will hear a new sun!
Then the bravos will roar, and the flowers will fly,
And your face of pure song-light will beam in mine eye!

Then back home in the night, back on home out of sight,
We will practice our kisses till they are so right
That the blithe bliss of happiness stops up our lips
With the top-notes of love in life’s passionate trips!
Then it’s “Brave” from you, and it’s “Bravo” from me,
And it’s “Bravo” to practice wherever we be!

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All Gone

Very much, very much,
Very much, much, much,
I’m a-walking ’round my garden.

Very much, very much,
Very much, much, much,
To wave all my flowers bye-bye.

It is sad, very sad,
It is very, very sad,
Seeing all my petals falling.

It is sad, it is sad,
It is very, very sad,
To wave all my flowers bye-bye.

They were here, they were here,
They gave cheer, cheer, cheer,
As I walked around my garden.

They were here, they were here,
They gave cheer, cheer, cheer,
Nor once had I thought of “bye-bye.”

It is woe, don’t you know,
It is woe, it is so,
To wave all my flowers bye-bye.

And I turn to my tree
And the high thing I see
Is a last leaf waving bye-bye!

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Silent Praise

When the candlelight falls on your lips as they touch
The rim of your wine-glass—oh, it is too much!
So precious much I must needful pause, because
Stillness has stricken me still-ful with its laws—
That say, one, Don’t let beauty pass without praise,
And, two, In silence worship beauty’s ways.
So I would speak, yet cannot say a word,
So I must cage within Love’s sparrows stirred.
Yet something from my eyes has flickered true,
And tremblings of my lips have flown to you,
For, fiery in your eyes are suns of days
That rise through me and all my lawful praise.
And now no sound but glass to glass that rings
As toast we low our quiet, freeborn wings.

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Non-Fiction is Best

Oh beautiful, musical beat that I hear
In the dusty old hallway sounding so clear;
Oh wonderful whish of that mountain perfume
When she opens the door of my pale-lit room,
Oh eyes of blue skies bringing daylight to me
As I write in the night of great beauties to be,—
Yet here is my heroine, fiction grows weak,
The hero leaps up, but has nothing to seek!
I look in your eyes, at your lips, at your stance;
Your body of music a-waiting its chance
To fly to me softly and tenderly twine
True beatings around me of all that is mine!
Our story’s not ended, but this will be told:
My non-fiction’s best, though it never gets sold!

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The Reign of Pig Juice

In the town of Hampton, population 50,000, muslim ‘refugees” totaling 5,000 had been brought in by the feds. In the years two mosques had been built in which jihad was being preached. The mayor had a meeting with crop-dusters in the area and they loaded up their planes with diluted pig juice and a bunch of fliers which stated that this was pig juice. One morning when all the muslims were walking to their mosques, the planes flew low overhead, spraying pig juice and dropping fliers on the muslims and their houses, tents and mosques. The muslims went crazy, pulling out knives, stabbing themselves, each other, their wives, husbands and children. And that was the end of Islam in Hampton. The worshippers of death had fulfilled themselves.

The news media tried to ignore the story, but word spread via twitter and the internet, and soon other towns across the country were following Hampton’s lead. The demand for pigs and pig juice soared on the market. Then some very few brave muslims began to disavow Islam, and bought little canisters of pig spray to protect themselves from potential muslim murderers. The mayor of Hampton was hailed as a hero and the further importation of muslims was brought to a halt. Even policemen started becoming proud to call themselves “pigs” and spontaneous parades sprang up with banners proclaiming “Pig Nation, Go!” It was the beginning of a new day in the world.

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On Some Tomorrow:

Three atomic bombs were dropped simultaneously on Tehran, medina and Mecca. Hundreds of imams were arrested in the United States to be deported, and as many mosques bulldozed into the ground. the new President went on television to say that “Islam is a totally evil organization of barbaric thugs and life-haters. Starting today all businesses are prohibited from doing business with Muslims and I encourage all decent Americans to abstain from even speaking to muslims. The police will not be protecting them. The firemen will not be putting out their fires. First responders will not be saving them from floods or providing medical aid. Al welfare checks will be stopped immediately, nor will remaining welfare monies be honored.”

Here the President paused, looked seriously at the reporters and cameras, straightened his shoulders and went on.

“The United States will send no more aid of any kind to muslim countries. All business activities with those countries is now prohibited. After natural disasters, no Red Cross or other relief will be allowed. Islam is the enemy of the civilization which makes these things possible. Islam is evil and it will be treated as it deserves. Terrorist acts are the direct result of the teachings of Islam, which are the result of the actions of that evil rapist and murderer Mohammed. Allah is an evil wish imagined as good, but it is evil. There are no good muslims. No good person seeks to kill other men, women and children just because they don’t believe that killing non-believers is the proper thing to desire and do. Life that hates life is evil.”

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Here On My Rock

Here on my rock, my good gray rock,
I sit and look about.
A first leaf falls from off its perch
And there is not a doubt
That leaves will all be soon to leave,
The grass cease grow so fast,
And Lee will laugh aloud to see
The snowflakes as they blow!

And so I sit my good gray rock,
I sit and look around.
I hear no bird sing forth in cheer,
But see, imagine Lee,
When she’ll be whirling round again,
Unbound with bubbly sound!

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