SONNET: “Lift not the painted veil . . ."

Lift not the painted veil which those who live
Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there,
And it but mimic all we would believe
With colours idly spread, --- behind, lurk Fear
And Hope, twin Destinies; who ever weave
Their shadows, o'er the chasm, sightless and drear.
I knew one who had lifted it --- he sought,
For his lost heart was tender, things to love,
But found them not, alas ! nor was there aught
The world contains, the which he could approve.
Through the unheeding many he did move,
A splendour among shadows, a bright blot
Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove
For truth, and like the Preacher found it not.

By
Percy Shelley
1818

Comments

Civilized crime of our times................

We the people of this CIVILIZED world live in glass houses…. Within our fragile setup where we merely just look out and see atrocities prevail. We have been so called the products of “progressive” civilizations Yet we loot, we plunder, we kill, we harass, we cheat, we lie We wage wars, we nuke, and we discriminate, And falsify our actions as Glory… I question myself whether we can be branded in any way as “Humane”

iNsPiration......

Phenomenal Woman Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size But when I start to tell them, They think I'm telling lies. I say, It's in the reach of my arms The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The curl of my lips. I'm a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That's me. I walk into a room Just as cool as you please, And to a man, The fellows stand or Fall down on their knees. Then they swarm around me, A hive of honey bees. I say, It's the fire in my eyes, And the flash of my teeth, The swing in my waist, And the joy in my feet. I'm a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That's me. Men themselves have wondered What they see in me. They try so much But they can't touch My inner mystery. When I try to show them They say they still can't see. I say, It's in the arch of my back, The sun of my smile, The ride of my breasts, The grace of my style. I'm a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal...

My hobby

Hidden by layers of books, Beneath the shelves, Lay a forgotten hobby of mine- As I blow out the dusty cover, Preserved are the strings of joy; Reminding me of a forgotten promise- The promise to pursue this hobby!

Chimerical echoes

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