It snowed last year too: I made a snowman and my brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea.
Dylan ThomasStichwörter: children fight childhood christmas tea snow snowman
before you let the sun in, mind he wipes his shoes.
Dylan ThomasI believe in New Yorkers. Whether they've ever questioned the dream in which they live, I wouldn't know, because I won't ever dare ask that question.
Dylan ThomasStichwörter: new-york-city
Craft the finest arrow
Forage jungles for straightest shaft
Forge sharpest head of glass
Pluck feathers of the wisest crow
Without the simplest archer and bow
Without a mark that's true
Useless
Craft the finest vessel
Fell the jungle's strongest mast
Build the world's mightiest hull
A flag the crown of all seas you can sew
Without the simplest oarsmen to row
Without a port that's true
Useless
Stichwörter: inspirational
If I'd been a cowboy, it might've ended well.
Somewhere on the ramble, I'm sure I'd have to sell
My guns along the highway. My coins to the table
To make a gambler's double, I'd double debts to pay.
Prob'ly shrink and slink away, It mightn't've ended well.
What If I'd been a sailor? I think it might've ended well.
From August to May
For a searat of man drifting through eternal blue, aboard the finest Debris.
I might've called the shanties. From daybreak to storm's set, lines stay Taught, over rhythm unbroken.
But, oh, there's a schism unspoken, a mighty calling of the lee.
An absentminded Pirate, unaccustomed to the sea;
To the land, a traitor. I think it mightn't've ended well.
What might've worked for me? What might've ended well?
Soldier, to bloody sally forth through hell?
Teacher of glorious stories to tell?
Man of gold, or stores to sell?
Lover to a gentle belle?
Maybe a camel;
A seashell.
What mightn't've been a life where it mightn't've ended well?
Stichwörter: life fate childhood choices wondering choices-and-consequences doubting
My birthday began with the water -
Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name.
Stichwörter: poem-in-october
The Hunchback in the Park
The hunchback in the park
A solitary mister
Propped between trees and water
From the opening of the garden lock
That lets the trees and water enter
Until the Sunday sombre bell at dark
Eating bread from a newspaper
Drinking water from the chained cup
That the children filled with gravel
In the fountain basin where I sailed my ship
Slept at night in a dog kennel
But nobody chained him up.
Like the park birds he came early
Like the water he sat down
And Mister they called Hey mister
The truant boys from the town
Running when he had heard them clearly
On out of sound
Past lake and rockery
Laughing when he shook his paper
Hunchbacked in mockery
Through the loud zoo of the willow groves
Dodging the park keeper
With his stick that picked up leaves.
And the old dog sleeper
Alone between nurses and swans
While the boys among willows
Made the tigers jump out of their eyes
To roar on the rockery stones
And the groves were blue with sailors
Made all day until bell time
A woman figure without fault
Straight as a young elm
Straight and tall from his crooked bones
That she might stand in the night
After the locks and chains
All night in the unmade park
After the railings and shrubberies
The birds the grass the trees the lake
And the wild boys innocent as strawberries
Had followed the hunchback
To his kennel in the dark.
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We are not wholly bad or good, who live our lives under Milk Wood.
Dylan ThomasTeach me the love that is evergreen after the fall leaved/Grave
Dylan ThomasDo not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
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