The Road Less Traveled Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
~ Robert Frost
Friendship ~ Love Friendship is a quiet walk in the park with the one you trust
Love is when you feel like you are the only two around.
Friendship is when they gaze into your eyes and you know they care.
Love is when they gaze into your eyes and it warms your heart.
Friendship is being close even when you are far apart.
Love is when you can still feel their hand on your heart when they are not near.
Friendship is hoping that they experience the very best.
Love is when you bring them the very best.
Friendship occupies your mind.
Love occupies your soul.
Friendship is knowing that you will always try to be there when in need.
Love is when you will give up everything to be at their side.
Friendship is a warm smile in the winter.
Love is a warming touch that sends a pulse through your heart.
Love is a beautiful smile to which nothing compares:
A tender laugh, which opens your heart,
A single touch that melts away your fears,
A smell that reminds you of the tenderness of heaven,
A voice that reminds you of the innocence of youth.
Friendship can survive without love.
Love cannot live without friendship.
~ Author Unknown .
Copyright (©) 2010 - 2020
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By the bohemian, on September 23rd, 2010%
Autumn days remind me of cool breezes and dreams that have not yet been realized. Growing up I always dreamed of learning to sail, I was fascinated with the idea of living aboard a boat and sailing the world with the love of my life. Romantic, oh yeah, realistic, who’s to say.
Learning to sail is still . . . → Read More: Autumn Courage
By the bohemian, on September 17th, 2010%
At the end of the year, my son is getting married. Where have all of the in between years gone? How is it I woke up one day and realized that a quarter of a century had gone by with only memories of the bygone days? How is it that I arrived at this moment in time and breathed in deeply, thinking . . . → Read More: Marriage Gifts To My Son
By the bohemian, on September 12th, 2010%
While sitting at the airport last week I realized, there are two kinds of people, those who love going to the airport and those who don’t.
I myself am a meeter, a person who meets. I arrive at the airport full of anticipation and excitement and nervous energy. I talk to complete strangers in my walking on . . . → Read More: Airports and Love
By the bohemian, on September 12th, 2010%
With the Labor Day Weekend coming to a close I am reminded of how fortunate I am to be able to come together with my friends and family to celebrate the end of summer.
Though Labor Day was originally conceived as a way to acknowledge the laborers or working class people in society and the contributions they have made, I see it . . . → Read More: Labor Day
By the bohemian, on September 2nd, 2010%
Poetry is a passion of mine, it is my way of unscrambling the messed up areas of my life into a somewhat organized picture in my mind. It has proven to be a release valve for me throughout many of my life’s triumphs and tribulations. I have awakened from a deep sleep, jumped out of bed . . . → Read More: Poetry ~ A Passion
By the bohemian, on September 1st, 2010%
Remember When?
I remember thinking when I was young ~ I never want to grow up.
It was a thought that materialized when it dawned on me that the grown up world was one of deadlines, stress and unhappiness. It seemed to be a world where no one fully trusted themselves or others and no one dared to be. . . . → Read More: Remember When?
By the bohemian, on August 9th, 2010%
To take the world as one finds it, the bad with the good, making the best of the present moment; to laugh at Fortune alike whether she be generous or unkind, to spend freely when one has mone, and to hope gaily when one has none. To fleet the time carelessly, living for love and art . . . → Read More: Bohemia ~ Gelett Burgess
By the bohemian, on August 9th, 2010%
A Bohemian ~ Practicing an unconventional lifestyle. . . . → Read More: What is a Bohemian?
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Posts InfoFeaturing Top 20/58 of Info Browse MusiciansFeaturing Top 10/14 of Musicians Browse PoemsFeaturing Top 10/19 of Poems Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116 Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.
But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.
But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.
~ Maya Angelou
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