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Silent scream erupting at night
fears realized after light
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I hope Charles Blomfield’s painting will give you an impression of what we were then deprived.
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less than half a mile in distance,
all perceived an apparition,
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The tears have dried that mourned you long ago,
Sad Sardanapalus, the mighty lord!
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There was once a castle in Cornwall,
And this be its story as told here by Paul.
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Why are we so lost?
Where was God during the Holocaust?
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At the back of the crowd at the last public hanging
Watched the poor wretches that choked as they swung
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Mounted on a bare backed palomino
fighting for the right to live in peace,
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Such opulence, the mind might find quite difficult to grapple
with evidence of wealth once held by those of lordly station.
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Growing up Texan - out of state.
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The names of Percy, Seymour, Wyndham, Egremont still stay
so linked with Petworth Mansion over seven hundred years,
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As more liquor is poured into your glass
you can ignore who's guilty and who
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I'm an old but sturdy structure having stood here all my life
I've never had an equal, no family, and no wife
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My kirtle is straight laced
for I am married
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In 1893 a museum in Chicago bought
the bones of thirteen warriors who had valiantly fought
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June 30, 1863
My darling Jeremy,
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Of many places where I’ve been and all the stately homes I’ve seen,
it’s Yorkshire’s Castle Howard I find that comes most readily to mind.
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Charmed with beauty, battered by noise
unease rippled through a dying art;
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I’d like to see—but not too close--,
The vengeance Samson wrought,
by Amadeus
74 lines,
on May 13 2:07 PM. In Musings, time, escape, history, thoughts, reverie, other, fantasy, dark, science fiction
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We follow in the impressions of the steps of our forebears,
Yut our feet often miss the trail.
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The juice is not sweet
The meat is not juicy
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