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This way to: Writers 1
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I have studied many times The marble which was chisleled for me A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor. In truth it pictures not my destination But my life. For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment; Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid; Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances. Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life. And now I know that we must lift the sail And catch the winds of destiny Wherever they drive the boat. To put meaning in one's life may end in madness, But life without meaning is the torture Of restlessness and vague desire. It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.
I went to dances at Chancerville, And played snap-out at Winchester. One time we changed partners, Driving home in the moonlight of middle June, And then I found Davis. We were married and lived together for seventy years, Enjoying, working, raising twelve children, Eight of whom we lost Ere I had reached the age of sixty. I spun, I wove, I kept the house, I nursed the sick, I made the garden, and for holiday Rambled over the fields where sang the larks, And by Spoon River gathering many of shell, And many a flower and medicinal weed-- Shouting to the wooded hills, singing to the green valleys. At ninety-six I had lived enough, that is all, And passed to sweet repose. What is this I hear of sorrow and weariness, Anger, discontent, and drooping hopes? Degenerate sons and daughters, Life is too strong for you-- It takes life to love Life.
Click to return to top Janis Ian
So now he's gone from life Of his own free will he left -- he did With his crazy black hair flapping in the breeze As it did when he used to tease And pretend he was going but This time, it's no pretending "He was so bright!" But there's no time for genius When you have problems to solve And crazy black hair to wave in the breeze
Who will wipe the tears away Who will hear your cry? Who will pull the knife of hate from so young a heart? Who will take abuse and scorn And still return for more No... Not I who loved you more than yesterday respected in the same. Not I
Who will give time to love When there are problems to be solved And crazy black hair to wave in the breeze How will you fare without the breeze my love?
Hey it's Eugene the Crazyboy! I wonder is it all an act? Everyone treats him like thin glass Don't shout -- you'll break it! Me, I treat him like I do my friends Don't break -- I'm shouting
Eugene doesn't talk so good with strangers Gives them weird answers or just doesn't answer at all And they think it's absurd He talks real good to me, though! Always smiles We talk about horses and government and swimming and living and just about anything we think of But when anyone else comes by He starts to stop talking
Eugene once gave me a present A clip-on earring And I said Thank you putting it in my pants just to prove a point
Eugene the Crazyboy got put away in a home for sterilised nurses and an official insanity card But I'll bet you a five he never gives them presents
I was going to take a bath and mommy said dont overload the tub dont take too many toys dont eat the soap and the tub began to leak i took too many toys froze to death and chewed on the soap and when she asked where did you ever get ideas like that i said i just dont
we went to stay with grandma and i said o i forgot my lucky dog mommy said dear its old and its hair is gone and anyway your musnt be so dependent sleep without him and i said well you are old and daddy still sleeps with you
one day i took a rock and threw it at mommy and it hit the window which broke daddy raised his hand to hit me but mommy said dont shell get a complex and daddy said sometimes dear you are just too damned progressive
i was playing truck with jimmy when daddy said she should play with dolls not trucks mommy said let her be she is self motivated and he said no and she said yes and they argued a lot so in i went to ask for a doll instead of a truck so theyd stop
we were eating when daddy came home from a long tiring day and started complaining how come the food wasnt hot and the steak was no good and the house was all dirty and he turned to me and opened his mouth and i said dont take your frustrations out on me baby
Click here to return to top W.H. Auden
He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be One against whom there was no official complaint, And all the reports on his conduct agree That in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a saint, For in everything he did he served the Greater Community. Except for the War till the day he retired He worked in a factory and never got fired, But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc. Yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views, For his union reports that he paid his dues (our report on his Union shows it was sound) And our Social Psychology workers found That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink. The Press are convinced that he brought a paper every day And that his reactions to advertisement were normal in every way Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured, And his Health-card shows he was once in hospital but left it cured. Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Installment Plan And had everything necessary to the Modern Man, A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire. Our researchers into Public Opinion are content That he held the proper opinions for the time of the year; When there was peace, he was for peace; when there was war, he went. He was married and added five children to the population, Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation, And our teachers report that he never interfered with their education. Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd: Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.
This way to: Writers 1
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