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How is it that I am?

By santeewelding ·
No luck with Google. Or, for that matter, Wolfram Alpha and the Library of Congress.

I would RTFM, but it is not to be had.

Work it out for me, would you.

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What is this...

by AnsuGisalas In reply to Transposition

"had gone" and "look"?
To affect the psyche, is that not the point?

Psychedelic on the other hand, that's to be avoided when possible.
Surreal is better.

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How is it that I am......Poem

by Peconet Tietokoneet In reply to How is it that I am?

How is it that I am: yet what I am none cares or knows,
My friends forsake me like a memory lost;
How is it that I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost;
And yet how is it that I am! and live with shadows tost

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
And e'en the dearest--that I loved the best--
Are strange--nay, rather stranger than the rest.

How is it that I long for scenes where man has never trod;
A place where woman never smil'd or wept;
There to abide with my creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept:
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie;
The grass below--above the vaulted sky.
:)

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Wherefrom?

by santeewelding In reply to How is it that I am...... ...

It's my first time seeing, How is it that I am, in print.

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Nineteenth Century English country poet

by neilb@uk In reply to Wherefrom?

Poor guy spent most of his time in the local insane asylum where he wrote quite a lot of his poetry. Not sure about this particular poem, though.

:)

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Forgot to give you his name!

by neilb@uk In reply to Nineteenth Century Englis ...

John Clare

on the afterlife

Is there another world for this frail dust
To warm with life and be itself again?
Something about me daily speaks there must,
And why should instinct nourish hopes in vain?
'Tis nature's prophesy that such will be,
And everything seems struggling to explain
The close sealed volume of its mystery.
Time wandering onward keeps its usual pace
As seeming anxious of eternity,
To meet that calm and find a resting place.
E'en the small violet feels a future power
And waits each year renewing blooms to bring,
And surely man is no inferior flower
To die unworthy of a second spring?

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Afterlife

by santeewelding In reply to Forgot to give you his na ...

"Outside", and futile. Makes for some of the best damned reading in poetry and literature, though.

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Very hard to find....

by Peconet Tietokoneet In reply to Wherefrom?

It took some digging.
Actually it is really "I am", but i added your "How is it that i am" on to it. It gives it a better tone to the poem i thought.
Hoped you liked it. :)

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who says you are?

by Kenone In reply to How is it that I am?
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That

by santeewelding In reply to who says you are?

Was transitive.

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You are

by seanferd In reply to How is it that I am?

who is.

Comparable to statements issued by the Abrahamic God, Popeye, and Descartes.

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