Dream Theme
Yet dreams, it seems, beset my mind.
As yet, I'm still beset I find
just by the dreams within my mind.
Within my mind I find I'm blind.
Sometimes it seems the dreams aren't kind
and in my soul I find I mind.
It seems that dreams still bind my heart.
I'm blind, I find, I stand apart
for in my dreams I find my art.
© 1999 by Doryanne Bowerman, all rights reserved
a quiet meditation for your busy day
All we're given is today, it's all that matters, in a way.
Now is the moment, it's all we've got; but it's enough, and that's a lot.
I
hope you enjoy these pages,
thanks for visiting !
What a sadder world it'd be if there were no poetry
The Unknown Citizen by W. H. Auden
Falling Toward Apotheosis by Leah Baker
God, Glory and Gold by Leah Baker
Anyone Lived In a Pretty How Town by E.E. Cummings
A selection of Poetry by Ralph Waldo Emerson
A selection of Poetry by Robert Frost
Invictus by William Ernest Henley
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love by Christopher Marlowe
First and Second Fig by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Dulce Et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen
The Shooting of Dan McGrew by Robert Service
The Cremation of Sam McGee by Robert Service
William Shakespeare's Hamlet, Act III scene I
Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas
The Force That Through the Green Fuse Drives the Flower by Dylan Thomas
I am a Parcel of Vain Strivings Tied by Henry David Thoreau
The Winds of Fate and Will - two poems by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways by William Wordsworth
Welcome
to our little corner.
Here there be Magick. Here there be Dragons.
Poetry and Art and Astrology...
Astrological Principles of Relationships
The Basics of Astrology part 1
The Basics of Astrology part 2
The Basics of Astrology part 3
Lyrics of some songs we really love
Garrett's Page (created for our 7 year old grandson)
If
I could wander where I wanted to
I
wonder where I'd wander to...
"l(if)e" a small collection of poetry by blind poet
River
Yes, I suppose I could write in prose
but the cut
(sad, or what?)
is
sometimes it rhymes
at time it flows
it moves, it soothes
it grooves, it grows.
Yet, I suppose, I could write in prose.
blind poet
© 1999 by Doryanne Bowerman, all rights reserved
this candle is lit in memory of the crew of the Columbia
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