En.Citatepedia^®.ro

All thoughts, all passions, all delights Whatever stirs this mortal frame All are but ministers of Love And feed His sacred flame.

quote by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After Coleridge

All thoughts, all passions, all delights.
Whatever stirs the mortal frame,
all are but ministers of love
and feed his sacred flame

samuel taylor coleridge

All thoughts, all passions all delights
emotions worthy of the name.
Part of the tapestry of life.
We all play the same game.

Whatever stirs the mortal frame
and wakes us from our lassitude.
Renewing our capacity
to change our attitude.

All are ministers of love.
Although we may not recognise
that love is the driving force.
Which all things underlies

and feeds his sacred flame
Ever rebellious men ask why
they should accept this as the truth
You know is loves reply.

16-Feb-08

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Love

All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
All are but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.

Oft in my waking dreams do I
Live o'er again that happy hour,
When midway on the mount I lay,
Beside the ruined tower.

The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene
Had blended with the lights of eve ;
And she was there, my hope, my joy,
My own dear Genevieve !

She leant against the arméd man,
The statue of the arméd knight ;
She stood and listened to my lay,
Amid the lingering light.

Few sorrows hath she of her own,
My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve !
She loves me best, whene'er I sing
The songs that make her grieve.

I played a soft and doleful air,
I sang an old and moving story--
An old rude song, that suited well
That ruin wild and hoary.

She listened with a flitting blush,
With downcast eyes and modest grace ;
For well she know, I could not choose
But gaze upon her face.

I told her of the Knight that wore
Upon his shield a burning brand ;
And that for ten long years he wooed
The Lady of the Land.

I told her how he pined : and ah !
The deep, the low, the pleading tone
With which I sang another's love,
Interpreted my own.

She listened with a flitting blush,
With downcast eyes, and modest grace ;
And she forgave me, that I gazed
Too fondly on her face !

But when I told the cruel scorn
That crazed that bold and lovely Knight,
And that he crossed the mountain-woods,
Nor rested day nor night ;

That sometimes from the savage den,
And sometimes from the darksome shade,
And sometimes starting up at once
In green and sunny glade,--

There came and looked him in the face
An angel beautiful and bright ;
And that he knew it was a Fiend,
This miserable Knight !

And that unknowing what he did,
He leaped amid a murderous band,
And saved from outrage worse than death
The Lady of the Land !

And how she wept, and clasped his knees ;
And how she tended him in vain--
And ever strove to expiate
The scorn that crazed his brain ;--

And that she nursed him in a cave ;
And how his madness went away,
When on the yellow forest-leaves
A dying man he lay ;--

His dying words--but when I reached
That tenderest strain of all the ditty,
My faultering voice and pausing harp
Disturbed her soul with pity !

All impulses of soul and sense
Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve ;
The music and the doleful tale,
The rich and balmy eve ;

And hopes, and fears that kindle hope,
An undistinguishable throng,
And gentle wishes long subdued,
Subdued and cherished long !

She wept with pity and delight,
She blushed with love, and virgin-shame ;
And like the murmur of a dream,
I heard her breathe my name.

Her bosom heaved--she stepped aside,
As conscious of my look she stepped--
The suddenly, with timorous eye
She fled to me and wept.

She half enclosed me with her arms,
She pressed me with a meek embrace ;
And bending back her head, looked up,
And gazed upon my face.

'Twas partly love, and partly fear,
And partly 'twas a bashful art,
That I might rather feel, than see,
The swelling of her heart.

I calmed her fears, and she was calm,
And told her love with virgin pride ;
And so I won my Genevieve,
My bright and beauteous Bride.

poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Feed On Me

They are dying on the dance floor
They are lying in debris
They are fading with exhaustion
From the mortal injuries
They are hungry and need feeding
They've resigned themselves to fate
They are desperate men
Death's written on their face
When your will to live
Is all but gone
And you're left alone
But you need someone - feed on me
Feed on me
They're outgunned and they're outnumbered
But they'll never turn to run
And the 'in name of freedom's'
Written with their blood
Some would call them mercenary
But they always knew the pain
Inevitably far outweighs the gain
Feed on me
Feed on me if you need to breath
Feed on me
When your hunger strikes you down again
And you feel your inner strength has drained - Feed on me
Feed on me
Feed on me - I got what you need
Feed on me
Feed on me - don't accept defeat
They aredying on the dance floor
They are lying in debris
They are fading with exhaustion
From the mortal injuries
Some would call them mercenary
But they always knew the pain
Enevitably far outweighs the gain
When your will to live has almost gone
And you're left alone and you need someone
Feed on me
Feed on me
Feed on me
Feed on me - I got what you need
Feed on me
Feed on me - don't accept defeat

song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mortal Love

mortality does
not ask for love eternal

mortal love
cannot outlive eternity’s edge
to an infinite span

mortal love
does not ask forever
never

mortal love
makes lies, makes changes,
twists and turns

mortal love is simple
like a dimple

one tongue
to one earthly word
nope

may do
may say something else

It is only asking
That you love
One day at a time

With all allowance for change
For a wider space
Leeways
Choices

Mortal love is free
frivolous

this love of mine

Today is just enough
mortal
And so rightly deserved

A mortal like me
Also bleeds
Weeds filled

No promises, just a hug, an embrace
And

A kiss, then could be, goodbye.

Because mortal love
Dies, like a wind passing by

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sacred Ground

Iced over, close your eyes. whisper the flame, it takes us higher.
Seems our world is closing around. when Im inside you, you bring me to sacred ground.
When Im inside you, you bring me to sacred ground.
Now youre the one that I want, you know its true.
Let go of everything, open up to me.
Im right beside you, Ill be your watchful eye.
I send waves of devotion over you. you take it all in and give it back, give it back again.
You bring me to sacred ground, when Im inside you.
You bring me to sacred ground.
Yes well love till theres nothing left to give...
Matching every movement, swimming in an ocean of sweat, and scent of you. it drives me to ...
You bring me to sacred ground, when Im inside you.
You bring me to sacred ground.
I know I can change your mind. give it to me the same way.
Giving it all up for love, I know that you feel the same way.
Id give it all up for you, I swear I would.
Now Im falling, falling inside ...
You bring me to sacred ground, when Im inside you.
You bring me to sacred ground.
Im inside you.
You bring me to sacred ground, when Im inside you.
You bring me to sacred ground.

song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The rose and the bumble bee…

Love must have its tempest
Said the bee to the rose
Love must have its passions-harnessed
Before its midnights close.

Yes love must have its passion
Said the rose to the bee
Love must unburden of a fashion…
If it’s ever to be free.

But isn’t that a loves betrayal
Said the bee to the rose
Peering beneath; her petals veil
Before whisking to his toes.

Your love is truly a tempest
Said the rose to the bee
But I’m the queen most; royalist
Sir—on this we’ll both agree....

Love must have its tempest
And this is plain to see…
Why passions flame did bless
The rose and the bee.

poem by Mark Heathcote
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Thoughts of desire

Thoughts of desire
~
A burning passion rises
consumes the mind at will
thoughts become provocative
seducing the subconscious
ideas come into place
stirring, hard to shake
passions flame burns hot
with the secrets we keep
the desires we mask
continue to rise inside
a thought grows into a dream
how sweet the night
passes into morning
dare we ever live them
or should they remain
kept inside the mind
as thoughts of desire

poem by Matthew Holloway
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Fabric of Corruption

The fabric of corruption,
Is attached and fits...
The frame it has covered,
Like traditions sacred.
And held deep with sentiments.

The comfort of it delights,
The appetite for some.
Who believe the doing of this...
Produces gold with a deceiving tongue.
And leaves a satisfaction,
As good as the sniffing of grandma's biscuits.

It's gets in one's system...
With no getting rid of it.
It is as normal as the licking,
Done by anticipating lips!
And,
Enjoying every bit of it...
Like an addiction meant,
With no attempts to resist!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hearts Desire

I seek to find your hearts desire,
So I may set your soul on fire.
Lonely days once filled with sorrow,
The flame of love lights up tomorrow.

Burned into my soul by passions fire,
There is no other heart I dare desire.
I bring my love to quench your thirst,
I'll feed your need and put you first.

So drink of me in angels glow,
Then all my secrets you shall know.
And share with me your hearts desire,
Then we shall set this night on fire...

Spread the love... The peace will follow...

poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Should I

He stirs within me

Something I thought I had lost

So long ago

He stirs within me

Warmth deep inside

That slowly warms the soul

He stirs within me

A hunger a need

To be touched to be loved

That only he can appease these needs

That is sparkling like a flame deep within my soul

I blush as he sweetly caresses my life with his soul

I blush as he gently reminds me how much he loves me so

I blush thinking how he possible can fill my wants and needs

I blush thinking have I fallen in love once again

Dare I take that chance?

Dare I risk giving my heart?

Should I

©Copyright Kaila George 2012

poem by Kaila George
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Turn O' The Year

This is the time when bit by bit
The days begin to lengthen sweet
And every minute gained is joy -
And love stirs in the heart of a boy.

This is the time the sun, of late
Content to lie abed till eight,
Lifts up betimes his sleepy head -
And love stirs in the heart of a maid.

This is the time we dock the night
Of a whole hour of candlelight;
When song of linnet and thrush is heard -
And love stirs in the heart of a bird.

This is the time when sword-blades green,
With gold and purple damascene,
Pierce the brown crocus-bed a-row -
And love stirs in a heart I know.

poem by Katharine Tynan
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O give thanks to Him Who made

O give thanks to Him Who made
Morning light and evening shade;
Source and Giver of all good,
Nightly sleep and daily food;
Quickener of our wearied powers,
Guard of our unconscious hours.

O give thanks to nature’s King,
Who made every breathing thing;
His, our warm and sentient frame,
His, the mind’s immortal flame.
O how close the ties that bind
Spirits to the Eternal Mind!

O give thanks with heart and lip,
For we are His workmanship;
And all creatures are His care:
Not a bird that cleaves the air
Falls unnoticed; but who can
Speak the Father’s love to man?

O give thanks to Him Who came
In a mortal, suffering frame—
Temple of the Deity—
Came for rebel man to die;
In the path Himself hath trod
Leading back His saints to God.

poem by Josiah Conder
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Picture

Meadow of matchsticks,
soon to be rekindled
by Spring the incendiary.

The exact flame of your blossoms
will ignite the passions
happily sapped by time--

Dripdrop their excess went
and now miners' hats
light up like love before

your vein, the frame of which
is there to depict the drift,
the waste when I painted

all the review copies
they sent me. But those books
open to polar pages where you

and I weigh the ends of this
teeter totem down, you
at the head and nadir me;

where postmortem is
the aura of self-portrait,
its other half regained at last.

poem by Bill Knott
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My Soul

In the flame of the flickering fire
The sins of my soul are few
And the thoughts in my head are the thoughts of a bed
With a solitary view.
But the eye of eternal consciousness
Must blink as a bat blinks bright
Or ever the thoughts in my head be stilled
On the brink of eternal night.

Oh feed to the golden fish his egg
Where he floats in his captive bowl,
To the cat his kind from the womb born blind,
And to the Lord my soul.

poem by Stevie Smith
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On Divine Love By Meditating On The Wounds Of Christ

Holy Jesus! God of Love!
Look with pity from above,
Shed the precious purple tide
From thine hands, thy feet, thy side,
Let thy streams of comfort roll,
Let them please and fill my soul.
Let me thus for ever be
Full of gladness, full of thee,
This for which my wishes pine
Is the cup of love divine,
Sweet affections flow from hence,
Sweet above the joys of sense;
Blessed Philtre! how we find
Its sacred worships, how the mind
Of all the world forgetful grown,
Can despise an earthly throne,
Raise its thoughts to Realms above,
Think of God, and sing of love.

Love Celestial, wond'rous heat
O beyond expression great!
What resistless charms were thine
In thy good thy best design!
When God was hated, Sin obey'd,
And man undone without thy aid.
From the seats of endless peace
They brought the son, the Lord of grace,
They taught him to receive a birth,
To cloath in flesh, to live on earth,
And after lifted him on high,
And taught him on the Cross to die.

Love Celestial ardent fire,
O extreme of sweet desire!
Spread thy brightly raging flame
Thro' and over all my frame;
Let it warm me let it burn,
Let my corps to ashes turn,
And might thy flame thus act with me
To set the soul from body free,
I next wou'd use thy wings and fly
To meet my Jesus in the sky.

poem by Thomas Parnell
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Frame

Frame

I could frame my
mind to what my
thoughts become,
"words spoken"
or I could frame the
night to think my
agony is gone.

I can frame almost
anything I quess,
from a heart in grief
looking for some relief,
the mailman,
the milkman,
and everything
that passes by,

A kitten at my doorstep,
is funny isn't it?
you can frame your
way through a
dragons throat.

Anything you want,
even your heart,
your truth your lies and
even the clear skies.

The hymns I sing,
my eyelids to fall asleep,
an ability not yet control.

Everything I long for
has not yet pass through,
so I keep framing
the truth the lies and all
I can think of.

But framing is not my
escape is just a lie
I keep telling myself,
and I can keep doing
it for eons.

But not yet complete,
for I can't frame my
eyes of what I see.

©ElenaToledo2009

poem by Elenushka Toledo
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My Old Flame

Arthur johnson / sam coslow
My old flame
I cant even think of his name
But its funny now and then
How my thoughts go flashing back again
To my old flame
My old flame
My new lovers all seem so tame
For I havent met a gent
So innocent or elegant
As my old flame
Ive met so many men
With fascinating ways
A fascinating gaze in their eyes
Som who sent me up to the skies
But their attempts at love
Were only imitations of
My old flame
I cant even think of his name
But Ill never be the same
Untill I discover what became
Of my old flame
Ive met so many men
With fascinating ways
A fascinating gaze in their eyes
Som who sent me up to the skies
But their attempts at love
Were only imitations of
My old flame
I cant even think of his name
But Ill never be the same
Untill I discover what became
Of my old flame

song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hymn 22 part 2

Flesh and spirit.

Rom. 8:1

What vain desires and passions vain
Attend this mortal clay!
Oft have they pierced my soul with pain,
And drawn my heart astray.

How have I wandered from my God!
And, following sin and shame,
In this vile world of flesh and blood
Defiled my nobler frame!

For ever blessed be thy grace
That formed my soul anew,
And made it of a heav'n-born race,
Thy glory to pursue.

My spirit holds perpetual war,
And wrestles and complains;
But views the happy moment near
That shall dissolve its chains.

Cheerful in death I close my eyes
To part with every lust;
And charge my flesh, whene'er it rise,
To leave them in the dust.

My purer spirit shall not fear
To put this body on;
Its tempting powers no more are there,
Its lusts and passions gone!

poem by Isaac Watts
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Psyche

The butterfly the ancient Grecians made
The soul's fair emblem, and its only name--
But of the soul, escaped the slavish trade
Of mortal life !--For in this earthly frame
Ours is the reptile's lot, much toil, much blame,
Manifold motions making little speed,
And to deform and kill the things whereon we feed.

poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Solitude

There is in stillness oft a magic power
To calm the breast, when struggling passions lower;
Touch'd by its influence, in the soul arise
Diviner feelings, kindred with the skies.
By this the Arab's kindling thoughts expand,
When circling skies inclose the desert sand;
For this the hermit seeks the thickest grove,
To catch th' inspiring glow of heavenly love.
It is not solely in the freedom given
To purify and fix the heart on heaven;
There is a Spirit singing aye in air,
That lifts us high above all mortal care.
No mortal measure swells that mystic sound,
No mortal minstrel breathes such tones around,—
The Angels' hymn,—the sovereign harmony
That guides the rolling orbs along the sky,—
And hence perchance the tales of saints who view'd
And heard Angelic choirs in solitude.
By most unheard,—because the earthly din
Of toil or mirth has charms their ears to win.
Alas for man! he knows not of the bliss,
The heaven that brightens such a life as this.

poem by John Henry Newman
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