Sonnet 50

Written by Shakespeare

How heavy do I journey on the way,
When what I seek (my weary travel's end)
Doth teach that ease and that repose to say:'
Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend.'
The beast that bears me, tired with my woe,
Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me,
As if by some instinct the wretch did know
His rider loved not speed being made from thee.
The bloody spur cannot provoke him on,
That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide,
Which heavily he answers with a groan,
More sharp to me than spurring to his side.
For that same groan doth put this in my mind:
My grief lies onward and my joy behind

Break of day

Written by John Donne

'TIS true, 'tis day ; what though it be?
O, wilt thou therefore rise from me?
Why should we rise because 'tis light?
Did we lie down because 'twas night?
Love, which in spite of darkness brought us hither,
Should in despite of light keep us together.

Light hath no tongue, but is all eye ;
If it could speak as well as spy,
This were the worst that it could say,
That being well I fain would stay,
And that I loved my heart and honour so
That I would not from him, that had them, go.

Must business thee from hence remove?
O ! that's the worst disease of love,
The poor, the foul, the false, love can
Admit, but not the busied man.He which hath business, and makes love, doth do
Such wrong, as when a married man doth woo.

September '11

‘September 11’ van Hillary A. Craig

I was sitting in school on that day in September
It was the day all Americans soon would remember
I watched the twin towers as they were hit by those planes
And I watched everything around them burst into flames
Everyone running and screaming in horror
Not knowing what to do or what was in store
Families were torn and loved ones were lost
Some wanted revenge, no matter the cost
All the lives that would never be the same
Stood back and watched as the firemen came
So much destruction, so much left undone
On September 11, 2001.

No Tomorrow

by Angel Towe

I am going to die tomorrow,
But yet I haven't been born.
My mother shows no sorrow,
For I am a product of love torn.

I will never see the light of day,
I will never smell a flower,
I will never walk along a waters bay,
Or feel the drop of an Aprils shower.

It hurts for no one to show me love,
I will never be hugged or kissed,
When I have gone to the heavens above,
I wonder if I will be missed.

Today is my last day to live,
My last thought, my last breath.
Just think of all I could give,
But tomorrow I'll be put to rest.

Wedding

Auteur: Alice Oswald

From time to time our love is like a sail
and when the sail begins to alternate
from tack to tack, it’s like a swallowtail
and when the swallow flies it’s like a coat;
and if the coat is yours, it has a tear
like a wide mouth and when the mouth begins
to draw the wind, it’s like a trumpeter
and when the trumpet blows, it blows like millions....
and this, my love, when millions come and go
beyond the need of us, is like a trick;
and when the trick begins,
it’s like a toetip-toeing on a rope, which is like luck;
and when the luck begins, it’s like a wedding,
which is like love, which is like everything