That pleasure which is at once the most pure, the most elevating and the most intense, is derived, I maintain, from the contemplation of the beautiful.
quote by Edgar Allan Poe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An art aims, above all, at producing something beautiful which affects not our feelings but the organ of pure contemplation, our imagination.
quote by Eduard Hanslick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Childish Bouquet
All that we had to give her
Was wildflowers…
My four little girls and I
They worked like lil' honeybees
With intense frowns on their faces
And determined look in their eyes
Violets and black-eyed Susans
Gathered in lil' grubby hands
‘neath bright summer sky
I had the girls present them
I thought it should be them…not me
I really don't know why
I'll not forget ever
The look of pure pleasure
That misted their mother's brown eyes
Nor the look of pure pleasure
That e'er I'll treasure
And That made me suppress a cry
I had never seen so delighted, my wife
Perhaps ne'er more so in my life
As by wildflowers picked…
By my four lil' girls and I
poem by David Whalen
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If your job is to leaven ordinary lives with elevating spectacle, be elevating or be gone.
quote by George Will
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The intense happiness of our union is derived in a high degree from the perfect freedom with which we each follow and declare our own impressions.
quote by George Eliot
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The contemplation of truth and beauty is the proper object for which we were created, which calls forth the most intense desires of the soul, and of which it never tires.
quote by William Hazlitt
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The Cruel Falcon
Contemplation would make a good life, keep it strict, only
The eyes of a desert skull drinking the sun,
Too intense for flesh, lonely
Exultations of white bone;
Pure action would make a good life, let it be sharp-
Set between the throat and the knife.
A man who knows death by heart
Is the man for that life.
In pleasant peace and security
How suddenly the soul in a man begins to die.
He shall look up above the stalled oxen
Envying the cruel falcon,
And dig under the straw for a stone
To bruise himself on.
562
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Cruelly Pure
Swan like movements,
“Swan Lake” melody bursts out in the air,
Slaying it with the greatest ease!
Beautiful in white you are,
So beautiful and pure,
So beautiful and rebel at soul!
Mute swan until death comes,
Wing shaped flames burst in my soul,
Slashing it with amazing grace!
Yes, Love burns slow,
Love crawls inside,
Cuts you so deep
That you’ll forever remember,
Never regret!
Beautiful and cruel you are,
So beautiful and pure,
So beautiful and rebel at heart!
Steams, hot mist dances like a mistress,
Feather-like touches on my face,
Caressing it with impeccable desire,
Cruelly pure my lover is,
So beautiful and pure,
So beautiful and rebel at soul!
©Elya Thorn. Do not republish without permission!
Part of 'Dark Whisperings and Invocations'
poem by Elya Thorn
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Sad Flower
I was walking through a flower garden
and this beautiful flower laid over looking so sad.
It drew me closer i just had to know why?
As bent over and put the flower in my hand
my eyes got rushed with this intense light!
Then i could see with pure delight
what made the flower so sad.
A lady name rush was there before me
and held the flower in her hand
and give a kiss and told the flower i love
you.
Then she was gone
with a mighty rush of wind
for the beautiful flower has been dethrone
poem by Randy Hogan
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The world has to learn that the actual pleasure derived from material things is of rather low quality on the whole and less even in quantity than it looks to those who have not tried it.
quote by Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To the man who loves art for its own sake, it is frequently in its least important and lowliest manifestations that the keenest pleasure is to be derived.
quote by Arthur Conan Doyle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One That Remains Inquisitive
I do not sit in contemplation to 'do'.
However...
There has been many times,
A contemplation done I do accomplish...
Is a wishing I had delayed a doing,
With the application of more patience.
And that...
Is the only drawback,
For one that remains inquisitive.
With an eventual lesson learned,
A living of one's life gets taught to teach...
With an outcome needing no contemplation to reach.
It comes.
And sometimes with an outcome,
One regrets with a reflecting in a patience done.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I want to make you cry!
I like You to remember me for ever
A man is here with out name and fame
But has a pure heart, no one can blame
He does not have nice face or good figure
Only With love and care he is very near and dear
That man is me and I want to do those works
Your heart must melt with those of my soft words
My smile always gives you happiness and pleasure
In your heart it will remain for ever as a treasure
I want to live along with you low and high
With pleasure and sorrow in the sky we together fly
So intense is my love and so soft my touch
Affection passionate intimate so much
My hugs are so warm, hearts and hearts rub so tight
I remain so close to share the moments heavy and light
You must ask me all these things, I do why
It is for nothing but when I shall say final good bye
I promise, at that time out of love I want to make you cry!
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Dark Contemplation
"Contemplation cannot be taught. It cannot even be clearly explained. It can only be hinted at, suggested, pointed to, symbolized." Thomas Merton. New Seeds of Contemplation
Through seasons of pleasure
and months of pain,
morning birds calling;
night's howling trains
oh, fall into dream's
cold silent folds
where unyielding truth
nightly is told.
The morning star's rising
through night's fading lace.
Soon sun will be glaring;
truth without grace.
poem by Steven Federle
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But few have spoken of the actual pleasure derived from giving to someone, from creating something, from finishing a task, form offering unexpected help almost invisibly and anonymously.
quote by Paul Wiener
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A pure mathematical series would be one in which each term is derived from the preceding term by a rule.
quote by George Oppen
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To relish, deliver.
Art, if not cast,
Craft, if not shown,
Thought, if not spelt,
And love, if not flown
Are of a child unborn
Or breast not suckled.
No pleasure is derived
To one from what conceived
Unless one gives birth to it.
05.04.97
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The candle and the fly- relation
A woman in love is a candle with flame.
Like the candle, she burns out by pining.
A man in love is like a fly in flight.
Like the fly, he dies by the fire of love.
The woman and the candle end as ash.
The man and the fly end as the charred.
They all had had their quotas of pleasure
In their actions of draining and plunging..
We, the impotent need not mock at them.
Deprived of union by men’s sanction,
The lovers derived more sexual pleasure
Than did any happily married couple
27.10.2008 repeat
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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At a rock music concert
The howl of the magic guitar
brings me intense pleasure
and he is stroking string after string
while he walks his tripping step,
dancing along in a school uniform,
bringing me intense pleasure
as if I am also filled with the magic
and feelings wash over me
while he dances along in a school uniform
and it is as if the music fills my whole being
the whining, the clear sound
and feelings wash over me
while he gets pleasure out of it
enchants me and I know that this concert is uniquely great
the whining, the clear sound
surpasses all previous experiences by far.
The howl of the magic guitar
enchants me and I know that this concert is uniquely great
and he is stroking string after string.
poem by Gert Strydom
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He greatly valued his possessions, chiefly because they were his, and derived genuine pleasure from contemplating a painting, a statuette, a rare lace curtain - no matter what - after he had bought it and placed it among his household gods.
quote by Kate Chopin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sylvia Is Dead
all the stages are for her,
she burned her head whole
inside an oven and she keeps the
riddles of the nine syllables
crisp, and firm, and creepy
that is sylvia's best
and look
here comes the rest,
they follow.
intense, so so intense.
painful death and deadly poetry.
my soul rises to the 7th heaven.
i, am, too,
intense, like, you, too, two, the
two of you,
intensity lost
recovered
in a minute or so, so so intense.
i feign death.
i still love to solve the tenth riddle.
the three monkeys are still with me.
they are so cute.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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