Twas The Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas,

when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring,

not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung

by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St Nicholas

soon would be there. 

The Stream

The stream glimmers

with the gold of the sun,

the blue of the sky, 

the wing of the blackbird

flying by.

The wind through the

willows speaks to me

from the banks of the stream

that flows to the sea.

Through the willows it returns

as between the banks returns 

the stream.

A thousand years, 

a thousand more, 

the stream will glimmer 

with the gold of the sun,

the blue of the sky, 

the wing of the blackbird

flying by.

Poem Source


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The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas,

when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads

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Another Brick In The Wall

“Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage.”

... Richard Lovelace, To Althea, from Prison

"Stuffed deer heads on walls are bad enough, but it's worse when they are wearing dark glasses and have streamers in their antlers because then you know they were enjoying themselves at a party when they were shot".

... Ellen DeGeneres

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The After-Work Shower

The coltish horseplay of the locker room, 

Moist with steam of the tiled shower stalls, 

... Anthony Hecht

"Everyone who's ever taken a shower has an idea. It's the person who gets out of the shower, dries off and does something about it who makes a difference".

... Nolan Bushnell

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Featured Model - Leo

At the request of the copyright holder, all images have been removed.

Soaking Wet

Keep away

if you want

the righteous and the holy

for I have neither virtue

weighing more than a feather

dripping wet

and vices to blow apart

the commandments.

Poem Source

Step By Step

Clandestine steps upon imagined stairs 

Climb through the night, because his cuckoos call. 

... Wallace Stevens

A. G. 

Daniel 

Gavin

Frank 

Jason 

Windows

Windows

Looking from outside into an open window one never sees as much as when one looks through a closed window. There is nothing more profound, more mysterious, more pregnant, more insidious, more dazzling than a window lighted by a single candle. What one can see out in the sunlight is always less interesting than what goes on behind a windowpane. In that black or luminous square life lives, life dreams, life suffers.

... Charles Baudelaire

Entire Poem HERE