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 Mar 2013 Dylan
Claire Ellen
"If we were young, we would rise and dance."
spoken like a true poet Daisy,
I always knew you were the one for Gatsby.
But, I have one request,
where is my millionaire??
Do you have some Gatsby to share?
How come my lonely nights,
are never like the stories that I read?
like the snow on my windshield,
the future feels heavy and light.
hooks and threads weave in and out
wrapping my 18 year story into
one pretty bow.
Someday I hope to be,
that green light some "Gatsby" sees
across the ocean and far away-
is where I am going to stay-
until then, I will be a fool,
that's the best thing a girl can be in this world,
a beautiful little fool.
 Mar 2013 Dylan
T. S. Eliot
The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey—
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter—
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum-
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover—
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.
 Mar 2013 Dylan
A. E. Housman
The Grizzly Bear is huge and wild
It has devoured the little child.
The little child is unaware
It has been eaten by the bear.
Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
And all the craggy mountain yields.

There we will sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses,
With a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;

A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.
 Mar 2013 Dylan
Michael Drayton
How many paltry foolish painted things,
That now in coaches trouble every street,
Shall be forgotten, whom no poet sings,
Ere they be well wrapped in their winding-sheet!
Where I to thee eternity shall give,
When nothing else remaineth of these days,
And queens hereafter shall be glad to live
Upon the alms of thy superfluous praise.
Virgins and matrons, reading these my rhymes,
Shall be so much delighted with thy story
That they shall grieve they lived not in these times,
To have seen thee, their ***'s only glory:
So shalt thou fly above the ****** throng,
Still to survive in my immortal song.
 Mar 2013 Dylan
Georgia
Gossamer binds my heart to my head
To my stomach, encroaching on my limbs
And you gurgle in my throat, threatening
All day long.
Mummy! Mummy! Not only will I never yell it,
I’ll never hear it yelled.
I feel like He ripped from my hand
Every facet of my dreamy Sundays
My recurring dream has Caesar’d me
And laughed.
Then I remember it’s not like that
I weep for snowy Christmases, sporting prowess:
For what I never had.
That’s possibly the worst part;
I brought this upon myself,
Plotted my own downfall since I was five
Since I dived head first into my
Doll’s house.
 Feb 2013 Dylan
Georgia
The glimmer in his hair, those kaleidoscope eyes,
Isn’t he lovely?
With lustre and humid afternoons
We jumped on plastic sheeting
Till our cyclist’s thighs and drummer’s fringe
Ached for the next day’s meeting.

Yen for one such as you,
Sidled up in the overtaking lane.
A flashing red passed me by, mouthing
‘Mother and child reunion is just a song.’

And with that I wished for you,
Non-existent, imaginary you.

But for now, marmalade sticks together
A household of three companions
As we wait for our January highs
And commiserate November rains.

I’m the one of them who wishes
That she could sing Wonder’s song aloud
To you. Imaginary, non-existent you.
not sure about phrasing...or how the poem works as a unit..draft?
 Feb 2013 Dylan
C A V
Going away
 Feb 2013 Dylan
C A V
I do believe
That it is time
For an adventure
So I am leaving
To explore

I am leaving
Useless things
Because I do not know
Where I am going
Or if I will return

But do not be sad
I am taking with me
All the  memories

They do not
Weigh at all
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