Bluebird there’s a bluebird in my heart thatwants to get outbut I’m too tough for him,I say, stay in there, I’m not goingto let anybody seeyou. there’s a bluebird in my heart thatwants to get outbut I pour whiskey on him and inhalecigarette smokeand the whores and the bartendersand the grocery clerksnever know thathe’sin there.… Read More »Bluebird
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,Silence the pianos and with muffled drumBring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overheadScribbling on the sky the message ‘He is Dead’.Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,Let the traffic policemen… Read More »Funeral blues
I walked a mile with Pleasure;She chatted all the way;But left me none the wiserFor all she had to say. I walked a mile with Sorrow,And ne’er a word said she;But, oh! The things I learned from her,When sorrow walked with me. [Robert Browning Hamilton] About the author Robert Browning Hamilton was an American writer… Read More »Along the road
This being human is a guest house.Every morning, a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness,some momentary awareness comesas an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them allEven if they’re a crowd of sorrows,who violently sweep your houseempty of its furniture,still, treat each guest honourablyHe may be clearing you outfor some new delight. The dark… Read More »The guest house
