A picture speaks a thousand words, equal to a poem

Does create a rather eerie background with the pitch black skies and the tree branches resembling tendrils. A touch of Halloween perhaps. The raven or was it a crow, in the photo, captured well. The moonlight provides a source of comfort, bathing/illuminating the dark skies.

Waves

Each decision we make in Life is as every wave on the ocean receding or splashing onto the shore. Decisions are made, the waves recede. Each decision has an indirect effect on our lives, like erosion on the landforms. Rocks can be weathered down, as can our resolve. We may make wrong decisions in our lives, wrong decisions that come back to haunt us. The sea organisms that are buoyed by the waves are like people around us. Buoyed or hit by the decisions we make. Splash, goes the waves as they wash upon the shore with brine.

The Charge of the Light Brigade

Half a league half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred:
'Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns' he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

'Forward, the Light Brigade!'
Was there a man dismay'd ?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Some one had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do & die,
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd & thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack & Russian
Reel'd from the sabre-stroke,
Shatter'd & sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse & hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder'd.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!

By: Lord Alfred Tennyson (1809 - 1892)
Dedicated to the Cavalry Charge of the Battle Of Balaclava, 25 October 1854

Ode To Light

Ode to Light

Ah, the light,
Yes, Damn the light!

The light, it's growing force eats away at you,
Your my power, my enchantment,
You give me ability, while the light adds the pressure,
The light rids of you, my power,
The light eats away, damn that evil light.

Many a day, I wait for the light to leave me,
To let you come and share with me,
The light only abuses you and hates upon you,
I wish the light would just burn in hell already,
But wait, the light is hot,
How so,
Burning would only make it brighter,
Doth blue flames burn it.

The light, oh it's evades,
Nooks and crannies aren't safe,
The light shins through, it burns the ground,
Scortchs the Earth,
Tangles with you, the light is the enemy,

It's okay, some day there won't be light,
We will be together for ever,
Until that damn light comes again,
Till then,
I'll shoot the night light,
And turn on the Day Gray.

By Aaron Tate

Pragmatism

The realistic word.
In this world of illusions,
What we need
Is a dose of pragmatism.
Not our own
Medicine.

Matter of fact
Just so tact
Prosaic
Practical

Yes, quite sober
Not a quidnunc
Oh no, not a meddler
Not at all
Business like
Hail Pragmatism!

* This post, Marc should know best *

Sonnet - Shakespeare

Others abide our question. Thou art free.
We ask and ask - Thou smilest and art still,
Out-topping knowledge. For the loftiest hill,
Who to the stars uncrowns his majesty,

Planting his steadfast footsteps in the sea,
Making the heaven of heavens his dwelling-place
Spares but the cloudy border of his base
To the foiled searching of mortality;

And thou, who didst the stars and sunbeams know,
Self-schooled, self-scanned, self-honoured, self-secure,
Didst tread on earth unguessed at. - Better so!

All pains the immortal spirit must endure,
All weakness which impairs, all griefs which bow,
Find their sole speech in that victorious brow.

MATTHEW ARNOLD

Sonnet - Set me where the sun parches the green

Set me where the sun parches the green
Or where its beams may not dissolve the ice
In temperate heat he is felt and seen
Proud people, sad and wise
Set me in base, or in high degrees
In long night or shortest day
In clear weather, or where mists are thick
In youth or when my hairs turn grey
In earth, heaven or hell
In hill or furious flood
Enslaved, or free and alive where I dwell
Ill, or in health
Yours I will be, and with that thought
Comfort thyself when my hap is nought

Note: hap - Luck