a likely winning goal, but also left the defender himself unconscious and then in a coma.However, if one treats that incident separately, then the keeper with the huge blond mullet was a wonderfully athletic shot-stopper who had a fondness for racing off his line to play as a semi-sweeper.The smoke of my own breath, Echoes, ripples, buzz'd whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine, My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs, The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and dark-color'd sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn, The sound of the belch'd words of my voice loos'd to the eddies of the wind, A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms, The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag, The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill-sides, The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun. 3 I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end, But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.There was never any more inception than there is now, Nor any more youth or age than there is now, And will never be any more perfection than there is now, Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.Nixon was a self-made man who rose from modest Quaker beginnings in California to the most powerful office in the world.His story is filled with unlikely successes — a staunch anti-communist, he improved U.Joshua Pulumo Mohapeloa (1908-1982) was born in Molumong in the eastern mountains of Lesotho.Apart from a few years spent in Johannesburg studying music at the University of the Witwatersrand Mohapeloa spent most of his life in Morija, where he worked in the Morija Printing Works and composed and trained choirs.
Even today, decades after his death, Richard Nixon inspires divided passions in America.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same, I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Hoping to cease not till death.
Creeds and schools in abeyance, Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten, I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, Nature without check with original energy.
A collection of poems, sketches, essays and short stories.
"Botsotso is a grouping of poets, writers and artists who wish to both create art as well as to generate the means for its public exposure and appreciation.