Our Platform for Outlining Colorado’s Future

Hot Lips Grandma White paint peels from the door, rusty hinges let loose a loud creek. A small gray mouse scurries across the floor, as cockroaches wander around the house. I dread the encounter, puckering, grandma opens her arms. Her musty smell fills my nostrils, there is no escape... grandma's livery lips strike again. Chat gpt's version "Peeling White Door" Beneath the chipping white paint of the door, Rusted hinges groan, echoing through the hall. A nimble gray mouse darts across the creaking floor, While shadows of cockroaches dance on the wall. With trepidation, I step into the embrace, As Grandma opens her arms, her eyes aglow. A scent of old books and lavender fills the space, Inescapable, yet strangely comforting though. Her lips, a vivid red, draw near with a tale, Of years gone by and love that never fails. In this moment, Grandma's affection prevails, A kiss from the past, where warmth never pales. Unnamed I don't want to die, let ...

Reasons to agree : +1 People have spent time to put important life lessons into poetry, that are well said enough that they tell a story or hold a truth that is more powerful than just stating the belief as a summary, or cliffs notes version of the poetic statement. For instance to me the Palace by Rudyard Kipling tells me that when people look back on the wreck of your life, that they won't just see your permanent long lasting improvements that you made, but that they will also see what you tried to do, and that that can be good enough, perhaps. That idea is much better explained in his story / alagory / poem, printed below for your ease of use. Come Let Us Anew by Wesley should be motivating to most people Reasons to agree : +2 Its nice to think that you can start again.  It may be depressing to think about how fast life is passing, but it is true, and so you need to deal with truths. Reasons to disagree : -3 Its depressing to think about how fast live moves. You do...

Poems that agree: + 1. William Shakespeare - Sonnet #129 The expense of spirit in a waste of shame Is lust in action; and till action, lust Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame, Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust; Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight; Past reason hunted; and no sooner had, Past reason hated, as a swallowed bait, On purpose laid to make the taker mad: Mad in pursuit, and in possession so; Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe; Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream. All this the world well knows; yet none knows well To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell. Shakespear's sonnet #129 is a great poem about addition. It sort of reminds me of the song that Johnny Cash sang called Hurt. I want me kids to be free. I want them, and all of humanity, to be free from all addictions. I don't want them to be slaves to alcohol, drugs, or any other addiction. It doesn't ...

Poems that Agree: + 1. Spring and Fall: [Margaret, Are You Grieving] by Gerard Manley Hopkins Margaret, are you grieving Over Goldengrove unleaving? Leaves, like the things of man, you With your fresh thoughts care for, can you? Ah! as the heart grows older It will come to such sights colder By and by, nor spare a sigh Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie; And yet you wíll weep & know why. Now no matter, child, the name: Sorrow's springs are the same. Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed What héart héard of, ghóst guéssed: It is the blight man was born for, It is Margaret you mourn for. Megan, an English major, told me about this poem. You can find better explanations on other sites, but: Margaret is a young girl... Can't remember. Perhaps a niece or something... She was sad when she watched the leaves fall from the trees. Goldengrove yellow trees. Unleaving = leaves falling off.

Poems that agree: + 1. "Genes" - Sharon Dunn My eleven year son wants to fish, he owns two rods, one saltwater, one freshwater. He loves knives, Bowie knives, Swiss Army knives, "Knives like this one?" my brother says, opening his desk drawer and taking out a small jackknife with antler handle. My boy camps outdoors, begs to sleep outside, is always shooting arrows, rubber band guns, he is lashing together a fort in the backyard. He sails, swims, kayaks and wants to know the stars. The outdoor hunting genes are in the dark men in my family. Yet I believe he is a son of light. His joy in reading, cooking and piano are fanned from the tinderbox of his father's heart. He will save rainforest, he will grow vegetables, keep horses, fly his own plane. He will make his own brave life, he will not remake our lives nor redeem us, nor pity us.

Poems that agree: + 1. Daughter Lyrics by Loudon Wainwright III Everything she sees she says she wants. Everything she wants I see she gets. That's my daughter in the water everything she owns I bought her Everything she owns. That's my daughter in the water, everything she knows I taught her. Everything she knows. Everything I say she takes to heart. Everything she takes she takes apart. That's my daughter in the water every time she fell I caught her. Every time she fell. That's my daughter in the water, I lost every time I fought her. I lost every time. Every time she blinks she strikes somebody blind. Everything she thinks blows her tiny mind. That's my daughter in the water, who'd have ever thought her? Who'd have ever thought? That's my daughter in the water, I lost everytime I fought her Yea, I lost every time.

Poems that agree: + An Easy-Going Weekend  by Gerald Locklin With my wife and daughter away at My daughter's college for four days, It has been a bachelor's weekend For my fifteen-year old son and me. We get along easily because we Like a number of the Same few basic things: eating, Reading, writing, music. his social Life is different from my current One: he visits with his friends, Girls and boys, while I swim at The YMCA pool. Then he watched Videos—a compromise between The ones that he picks out— Empire Records, Strange Brew— And the ones I think he ought to Be exposed to—Citizen Kane, La Strada, Dr. Strangelove. He Plays his amplified guitar; I switch A game on when the Yankees are At bat. I give him In Our Time To read; finish up a Flann O'Brien for my class. We both Like Italian one day, Mexican the Next. He feeds the cats and does The dishes for his mother. At night, he works late on A story at the MAC...