Rabindranath Tagore – The Gardener 79

I often wonder where lie hidden

the boundaries of recognition between

man and the beast whose heart knows

no spoken language.

Through what primal paradise in a

remote morning of creation ran the

simple path by which their hearts

visited each other.

Those marks of their constant tread

have not been effaced though their

kinship has been long forgotten.

Yet suddenly in some wordless

music the dim memory wakes up

and the beast gazes into the man's

face with a tender trust, and the

man looks down into its eyes with

amused affection.

It seems that the two friends meet

masked, and vaguely know each other

through the disguise.

Wilfred Owen – Soldier's Dream

I dreamed kind Jesus fouled the big-gun gears;
And caused a permanent stoppage in all bolts;
And buckled with a smile Mausers and Colts;
And rusted every bayonet with His tears.

And there were no more bombs, of ours or Theirs,
Not even an old flint-lock, not even a pikel.
But God was vexed, and gave all power to Michael;
And when I woke he'd seen to our repairs.

Charles Bukowski – Be Kind

we are always asked
to understand the other person's
viewpoint
no matter how
outdated
foolish or
obnoxious.
one is asked
to view
their total error
their life-waste
with
kindliness,
especially if they are
aged.
but age is the total of
our doing.
they have aged
badly
because they have
lived
out of focus,
they have refused to
see.
not their fault?
whose fault?
mine?
I am asked to hide
my viewpoint
from them
for fear of their
fear.
age is no crime
but the shame
of a deliberately
wasted
life
among so many
deliberately
wasted
lives
is.

Charles Bukowski – True Story

they found him walking along the freeway
all red in
front
he had taken a rusty tin can
and cut off his sexual
machinery
as if to say --
see what you've done to
me? you might as well have the
rest.

and he put part of him
in one pocket and
part of him in
another
and that's how they found him,
walking
along.

they gave him over to the
doctors
who tried to sew the parts
back
on
but the parts were
quite contented
the way they
were.

I think sometimes of all of the good
ass
turned over to the
monsters of the
world.

maybe it was his protest against
this or
his protest
against
everything.

a one man
Freedom March
that never squeezed in
between
the concert reviews and the
baseball
scores.

God, or somebody,
bless
him.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox – A Girl's Autumn Reverie

We plucked a red rose, you and I

All in the summer weather;

Sweet its perfume and rare its bloom,

Enjoyed by us together.

The rose is dead, the summer fled,

And bleak winds are complaining;

We dwell apart, but in each heart

We find the thorn remaining.

We sipped a sweet wine, you and I,

All in the summer weather.

The beaded draught we lightly quaffed,

And filled the glass together.

Together we watched its rosy glow,

And saw its bubbles glitter;

Apart, alone, we only know

The lees are very bitter.

We walked in sunshine, you and I,

All in the summer weather.

The very night seemed noonday bright.

When we two were together.

I wonder why with our good-by

O'er hill and vale and meadow

There fell such shade, our paths seemed laid

Forevermore in shadow.

We dreamed a sweet dream, you and I,

All in the summer weather,

Where rose and wine and warm sunshine

Were mingled in together.

We dreamed that June was with us yet,

We woke to find December.

We dreamed that we two could forget,

We woke but to remember.