Poetry & Works by Kaffi & Kaffy

I did my best to notice When the call came down the line Up to the platform of surrender I was brought but I was kind And sometimes I get nervous When I see an open door Close your eyes, clear your heart Cut the cord Are we human or are we dancers? My sign is vital, my hands are cold And I'm on my knees looking for the answer Are we human or are we dancers? Pay my respects to grace and virtue Send my condolences to good Give my regards to soul and romance They always did the best they could And so long to devotion You taught me everything I know Wave goodbye, wish me well You've gotta let me go Are we human or are we dancers? My sign is vital, my hands are cold And I'm on my knees looking for the answer Are we human or are we dancers? Will your system be alright When you dream of home tonight? There is no message we're receiving Let me know, is your heart still beating? Are we human or are we dancers? My sign is vital, my hands are cold And I'm on my knees looking f

Between us now and here -    Two thrown together Who are not wont to wear    Life's flushest feather - Who see the scenes slide past, The daytimes dimming fast, Let there be truth at last,    Even if despair. So thoroughly and long    Have you now known me, So real in faith and strong    Have I now shown me, That nothing needs disguise Further in any wise, Or asks or justifies    A guarded tongue. Face unto face, then, say,    Eyes mine own meeting, Is your heart far away,    Or with mine beating? When false things are brought low, And swift things have grown slow, Feigning like froth shall go,    Faith be for aye. Thomas Hardy

"Hope" is the thing with feathers— That perches in the soul— And sings the tune without the words— And never stops—at all— And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard— And sore must be the storm— That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm— I've heard it in the chillest land— And on the strangest Sea— Yet, never, in Extremity, It asked a crumb—of Me. Emily Dickinson

How great my grief, my joys how few, Since first it was my fate to know thee! - Have the slow years not brought to view How great my grief, my joys how few, Nor memory shaped old times anew,    Nor loving-kindness helped to show thee How great my grief, my joys how few,    Since first it was my fate to know thee? Thomas Hardy

I am not yours, not lost in you, Not lost, although I long to be Lost as a candle lit at noon, Lost as a snowflake in the sea. You love me, and I find you still A spirit beautiful and bright, Yet I am I, who long to be Lost as a light is lost in light. Oh plunge me deep in love -- put out My senses, leave me deaf and blind, Swept by the tempest of your love, A taper in a rushing wind. Sarah Teasdale