alienada's Blog

WHAT IS A FRIEND?

Your Heart is your Love,
Your love is your Family ,
Your family is your Future ,
Your future is your Destiny ,
Your destiny is your Ambition,
Your ambition is your Aspiration ,
Your aspiration is your Motivation ,
Your motivation is your Belief ,
Your belief is your Peace ,
Your peace is your Target ,
Your target is Heaven,
Heaven is no fun without FRIENDS

-Pink, small, and punctual
Aromatic, low,
Covert in April,
Candid in May,

Dear to mass,
Known by the Knoll,
Next to the robin
In every human soul,

Bold little beauty,
Bedecked with thee,
Nature forswears Antiquity.

Answer:


-His bill an auger is,
His head, a cap and frill.
He laboreth at every tree,-
A worm his utmost goal.

Answer:


-An everywhere of silver,
With ropes of sand
To keep it from effacing
The track called land.

Answer:


-A fuzzy fellow without feet
Yet doth exceeding run!
Of velvet is his countenance
And his complexion dun.

Sometimes he dwelleth in the grass,
Sometimes upon a bough
From which he doth descend in plush
Upon the passer-by.

Answer:



-I like to see it lap the miles,
And lick the valleys up,
And stop to feed itself at tanks;

Around a pile of mountains,
And supercilious, peer
In shantier by the sides of roads;
And the a quarry pare

To fit its sides, and crawl between,
Complaining all the while
In horrid, hooting stanza;
Then chase itself down hill

And neigh like Boanerges;
Then, punctual as star,
Stop-docile and omnipotent-
At its own stable door.

Answer:


-It sifts from leaden sieves,
It powders all the wood,
It fills with alabaster wool
The wrinkles of the road.

It makes an even face
Of mountain and of plain,-
Unbroken forehead from the east
Unto the east again.

It reaches to the fence,
It wraps it, rail by rail,
Till it is lost in fleeces;
It flings a crystal veil

On stump and stack and stem,-
The summer's empty room,
Acres of seams where harvests were,
Recordless, but for them.

It ruffles wrists of posts,
And ankes of a queen,-
Then stills its artisans like ghosts,
Denying they have been.

Answer:


-A narrow fellow in the grass
Occasionally rides;
You may have met him,-did you not,
His notice sudden is.

The grass divides as with a comb,
A spotted shaft is seen;
And then it closes at your feet
And opens further on.

He likes a boggy acre,
Afloor to cool for corn.
Yet when a child, and barefoot,
I more than once, at morn,

Have pased, I thought, a whip-lash
Unbraiding in the sun,-
When, stooping to secure it,
It wrinkled, and was gone.

Several of nature's people
I know, and they know me;
I feel for them a transport
Of cordiality;

But never met this fellow,
Attended or alone,
Without a tighter breathing,
And Zero at the bone.

Answer:

I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us-don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the live long day
To an admiring bog!

It is a single tree,
The wind blows but it barely moves.
No bird would go on it because it is winter,
It's so alone but no one sees it.

It wants to be surrounded by people,
No one will go to it.
It has no leaves on it,
Because it is winter.

It knows were here,
But no one cares.
It has a lot of branches,
But no leaves will grow on it.

It is a singles tree,
But no one will look at it.
It don't care anymore,
Because no one cares about it.

My mine is a total blank,
I can't write,
And I can't think.

I don't know what to do,
I don't know what to write.
I don't know what put on my paper,
So, I just write a poem, in stead.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
No one can be sweeter,
Then you.

You fill my heart with joy and love.
When I look at you,
It's like looking at the stars above.

When you are there with me today,
I never want you to go away.

When I see your eyes so bright,
It shines in the moonlight.

Today is Valentines Day,
This Poem tells you why I feel this way.