two thoughts

Disclaimer : This entry might be very very morbid. It is in now way a reflection of my current state of mind. My current state of mind is really *null and void*.

I just like this poem that's all. I'll prolly like it in summer/winter/autumn spring just because it's a very very pretty poem. On a lighter note, I find men who are able to write poetry about feminine feelings very very gay. The poem's darn good and all, but the author's kinda gay.

NOTE to self : The lines is bold are the ones I like.
Especially But void the sea and void the beach.

The sun has slipped his tether
And galloped down the west.
(Oh, it’s weary, weary waiting, love.)
The little bird is sleeping
In the softness of its nest.
Night follows day, day follows dawn,
And so the time has come and gone:
And it’s weary, weary waiting, love.

The cruel wind is rising
With a whistle and a wail.
(And it’s weary, weary waiting, love.)
My eyes are seaward straining
For the coming of a sail;
But void the sea, and void the beach
Far and beyond where gaze can reach!
And it’s weary, weary waiting, love.

I heard the bell-buoy ringing—
How long ago it seems!
(Oh, it’s weary, weary waiting, love.)
And ever still, its knelling
Crashes in upon my dreams.
The banns were read, my frock was sewn;
Since then two seasons’ winds have blown—
And it’s weary, weary waiting, love.

The stretches of the ocean
Are bare and bleak to-day.
(Oh, it’s weary, weary waiting, love.)
My eyes are growing dimmer—
Is it tears, or age, or spray?
But I will stay till you come home.
Strange ships come in across the foam!
But it’s weary, weary waiting, love.


Written by "PAUL LAWRENCE DUNBAR"
rest assured. he's male.


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and to be clear, i ain't waiting for love.
no. actually I'm waiting for a project to get up and running. The moth eggs are ready. I've to hatch em and grow em. But there is a biosafety committee that'll take a couple of months to approve their *home coming*.
actually i'm waiting for december to end. when there will be no point bothering abt did i apply to the right schools, did i write a good sop, have i applied too high/too low. post december- my worries will simply not matter.
actually, i'm waiting for months to slip by as though they were seconds.

and it's weary, weary waiting, love.