Love Poems

I Have No Life But This


I have no life but this,
To lead it here;
Nor any death, but lest
Dispelled from there;
Nor tie to earths to come,
Nor action new,
Except through this extent,
The Realm of You!
Emily Dickinson
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Name: Rahul2012-12-08
Tagore,You deeply ismpers me with your close reading of the text. Where were you trained? Under whom? You raise a question that is very personal: what happened during that dinner appointment of yester year that would make me so vulnerable? I would answer that question, except you know as well as I that the author is DEAD, and that my poems have universal relevance. When I'm writing about watching the Six Million Dollar Man, I'm writing about the modern alienated man, with two legs and an arm that are artificial, so that he can run 60 miles an hour, but with a heart that is still very human, and alone, and beating madly with despair. When I watch Lee Majors looking around him with that trademark scowl of his, I know he is able to perceive all the sad cruelties of this world. Yeah, I hear the sound effects of his artificially enhanced vision, but what I see is a tear coursing down his cheek. If you really want more of an explanation, I can only refer you to my poem, The horrible, horrible dinner appointment of yester year, which I wrote as a library exit monitor, (assistant, junior grade). For further clues, see also, Apparently Sister Johnson isn't taking her anti-depressants. Both have been widely anthologized, so you should have no problem.
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Name: Dina2015-11-30
Articles like these put the consumer in the driver seat-very imtnrtaop.
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