and I, the while, the sole, unbusy thing…

And I, the while, the sole, unbusy thing,
Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.

_Samuel Taylor Coleridge


_ T'was by a lovely morning
_ When the summertime came
_ and just before that school closed
_ Going my way, nice and easy, in deed
_ suddenly, I felt inside of me something bleed
_ making my day not so bright
_ a surge of tears, an urge to cry, in despair 
_ I had none, something to tell, or to whom to write, 
_ nor to recite, this piece of poetry, nor pair
_ that's when sometimes you got the blues
_ and you had the heart torn away, too loose.
_  I encarved our hearts into a trunk of a tree,
_ At the fork of two roads, I lingered as often, 
_ I decided, but to choose that day the one not taken, 
_ I stopped by, at the school of cutting classes,
    where you play hide, and seek, by the bushes
_ where you learnt the tools of the trades, arts and crafts, 
_ those small things of life, state-of-art, of everything,
_ things that people envy you for, gossip about and jibe, 
_ but silently wish to do, and dare never did. 
_ Sweet sixteen, smoking cigs, makes you feel not at ease, 
_ just because to show off, among friends, and but just to please. 
_ What had left, at last, of things that had to pass, 
  but then when there is no more of such sweet thing, 
_ of see you later, I love you and for forever, alas 
_ who fancy, to tell me how? It’s all fake
_  you, who knows, where and how to take
_ "and I, the while, the sole unbusy thing,
_ Not honey to make, nor pair, no build or sing" 
_ It was all about love, and understanding.
_  Bitterly, this is it, C’est la vie, yes I learnt
_ By the road not always that people took,
_  I went to see the railroads men, and departing train.
_ with pain in my heart, and the day as it mights rain 
_ I will tell you such, and such where the joy 
_ tears, laughter, wounded limbs of a lit’l boy
_  If you please, take pain to listen to me
_ it's a nonsense, you may say
_  then you burst in laughers,
_ and that, also I know, and dare say
_  Oh, my heart, you still remember, do you?
_ When Marie went to draw water from the well
_  She was so pretty and jolly.
_ Then, Fatima, the brunette, oh! Holy molly, 
_ when I took her hand, it was so smooth 
_ ever than a step stone, where we sat,
_  at the threshold of a fountain
_ tearing off petals of daisy flowers, hours, and hours
_  we thought then, nights and days, that the world was ours
_ To please them both, I learnt poetry, De Musset, 
_ Baudelaire, et Rimbaud, Aragon, Hugo and La Fontaine. 
_ Love me, love me not, a love play 
_ Forget me not, Proust, the Swann's way. 
_ à L'ombre des Jeunes Filles en Fleurs. 
_ But I forgot love it's a leur
_ Cutting classes, The Fridays afternoon 
_ And Sweet Tuesdays, with moon 
_ For the love of a girl’smile
_  you can do anything, like walking  hundred and a mile
_ Many years, later on, I can’t help But still remember now and then 
_ Those were the days, my friend That seemed never end 
_ Please tell me where are they
_ When, eat, love and play 
_ Was a day of not worried



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I am an autodidact writer, and enough of an artist, to draw upon my imagination_I can't pretend here, to imitate Einstein's expression, nor to profess having enough knowledge of that sort, credit is, where credit is due, noblety obliged, nor to build equations, or quest forlost gravity, still, having this audacity to emitate Mr. Einstein one's expression is a crime of Lese-majeste, and to not being an imbued person, first, pardon my intrusive Introduction, but isn't it imitating someone, the same as, like of gardening and planting coliflowers? Maybe Orchids... Secondo, I just have borrowed his quote _"knowledge is limited, imagination encircles the world ", for the pumps and circumstance, and just for the sake blogging, put it that way down to paper, and to fancy make an old dream of mine comes true, perhaps one day, and if time permitting, a would-be a writer and having enough ingredients for writing prose and possibly poetry _Thankful always to my reader for stopping by, and To all the followers: Thank you for following my blog, regularly, and by your likes on my posts, you're encouraging me each time, to persist and strive to do better for blogging than the sensational, and to take the risk to be boring sometimes ; please send me your feeds Thanks you again extra large for your patience _Modestly speaking: _Inspirational Dr. Seuss's quote: _“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And You are the one who’ll decide where to go.” ― Dr. Seuss

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