What does love look like? It has the hands to help others. It has the feet to hasten to the poor and needy. It has eyes to see misery and want. It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men. That is what love looks like.
quote by Saint Augustine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
This Cant Be Love
This cant be love
Because I feel so well
No sobs, no sorrows, no sighs
This cant be love
I get no dizzy spells
My head is not in the skies
My heart does not stand still
Just hear it beat
This is too sweet to be love
This cant be love
Because I feel so well
I love to look in your eyes
I love to look in your eyes
This cant be love
Because I feel so well
No sobs, no sorrows, no sighs
This cant be love
I get no dizzy spells
My head is not in the skies
My heart does not stand still
Just hear it beat
This is too sweet to be love
This cant be love
Because I feel so well
I love to look in your eyes
I love to look in your eyes
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Gigolo Lies in Wait
He is hit by the beams of her roving eyes
and swept off to the sky by her sensual looks.
But reach his ears to her groans and longing sighs.
Those who have no feel of love hate the mad guys
who keep open the pages of their hearts' books.
He is hit by the beams of her roving eyes.
The rogues who share the bed where the strumpet lies,
dare to kill the sparrows which chirp by the brooks.
But reach his ears to her groans and longing sighs.
The poofs and ponces who feel no lovers' ties
live in peace undisturbed by the rabbles' hooks.
He is hit by the beams of her roving eyes.
Her orgling glances are her restless heart's spies
who know not the pangs of a bloke, a girl rooks.
But reach his ears to her groans and longing sighs.
When armed men mob to lynch, his heart soars and flies.
Gigabytes of news they get from all the nooks.
But he's hit by the beams of her roving eyes.
And reach his ears to her groans and longing sighs.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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How Do I Know You Love Me?
How do I know you love me?
I can see it in your eyes.
How do I know you love me?
I hear it in your sighs.
Your eyes are the windows
to my soul.
Your sighs are the sounds
that make me whole.
How do I know you love me?
I feel it in your touch.
How do I know you love me?
You always make me blush.
Your hands are the wonders
that make me feel good.
Your fingers travel all over my skin
just the way they should.
How do I know you love me?
I've known it from the start.
How do I know you love me?
I feel it in my heart.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Poor Me
Woke up this mornin'
feeling low
where my love one used to live
she ain't there no more.
Poor me, why such bad luck fall on me?
Poor me, I'm livin' in misery
What I gonna do?
Hard to tell
Lord, I'm not going to kill myself
but I might as well
Poor me, I'm so lonely can't you see?
Poor me, I'm livin' in misery.
All I do
the whole day long
fall down on my knees and pray
you'll come back home.
Poor me, why such bad luck fall on me?
Poor me, I'm livin' in misery.
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Cant Be Love
As recorded by nat king cole, who didnt make the top 100
Words by lorenz hart and music by richard rogers and sung in the broadway
Musical the boys from syracuse by eddie albert and marcy westcott
A # 6 hit for horace heidt in 1938
A # 2 hit for benny goodman in 1939
This cant be love, because I feel so well,
No sobs, no sorrows, no sighs.
This cant be love; I get no dizzy spells,
My head is not in the skies.
My heart does not stand still, just hear it beat.
This is too sweet to be love.
This cant be love, because I feel so well,
But still I love to look in your eyes.
(instrumental interlude)
My heart does not stand still, just hear it beat.
This is too sweet to be love.
This cant be love, because I feel so well,
But still I love to look in your eyes.
Still I love to look in your eyes.
song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Skylark's Message
SWEET little upturned faces,
Poor little hands and feet,
Little eyes that are careworn and anxious
From hunger and want in the street,
Hear ye that skylark singing
5
Like an angel far away?
'Tis bringing to you a message
From the Golden Gates of day.
Ah, little know ye of the meadows,
Poor little blistered feet,
10
Down in the smoke of the city,
Down in the noise of the street!
But it sings of a better country,
Where tired little hearts can rest;
Of a sun that shines for ever,
15
And the love of a Father's breast.
O poor little weary spirits,
I would that ye knew its song,
For the world is very heartless,
And your journey may be long;
20
And ye need such heavenly music
To cheer you in the night,
Little hearts that are now so noble,
Little souls that are now so white.
I would that ye heard it always,
25
That sweet bird's voice within,
When the heart is sad and lonely
In the long, long struggle with sin;
Till a rest comes out of the sunset
For the labouring hands and feet,
30
And a silence has fallen for ever
On the noise and the dust of the street.
poem by Frederick George Scott
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Deeds Of love
With ears, hear My word.
With feet, follow Me.
With hands, do My work,
today and endlessly.
With mouth, teach My gospel.
With head, bow in prayer.
With heart, show compassion
to My children everywhere.
With eyes, be ever searching.
looking for another's needs.
Let the love you have for Me
be shown by loving deeds.
poem by Ron Tranmer
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Im Only Happy When It Rains
Im only happy when it rains
Im only happy when its complicated
And though I know you cant appreciate it
Im only happy when it rains
You know I love it when the news is bad
And why it feels so good to feel so sad
Im only happy when it rains
Pour your misery down, pour your misery down on me
Pour your misery down, pour your misery down on me
Im only happy when it rains
I feel good when things are going wrong
I only listen to the sad, sad songs
Im only happy when it rains
I only smile in the dark
My only comfort is the night gone black
I didnt accidentally tell you that
Im only happy when it rains
Youll get the message by the time Im through
When I complain about me and you
Im only happy when it rains
Pour your misery down, pour your misery down
Pour your misery down on me pour your misery down
Pour your misery down pour your misery down
Pour your misery down on me pour your misery down
Pour your misery down pour your misery down
Pour your misery down on me pour your misery down
Pour your misery down
You can keep me company
As long as you dont care
Im only happy when it rains
You wanna hear about my new obsession?
Im riding high upon a deep depression
Im only happy when it rains
Pour some misery down on me
Im only happy when it rains
Pour some misery down on me
Im only happy when it rains
Pour some misery down on me
Im only happy when it rains
Pour some misery down on me
Im only happy when it rains
Pour some misery down on me ...
song performed by by Garbage
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Early Works - Writers
We sit around the table
elbows poised and hands on chins
as airy voices ring in our ears
first about dogs
a pack of them chasing some poor deer
then we hear of a black and white
spotted monster
from there to Rabby Burns
who’s breeding like rabbits!
Then on to the poor misses who has everything
but doesn’t know what to do
and then a serenade
about people standing on their heads,
ah but it doesn’t finish there
my lurid tale is yet to befall their ears.
Heaven help them!
2 May 1985
poem by David Harris
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I used to think I was poor. Then they told me I wasn't poor, I was needy. They told me it was self-defeating to think of myself as needy, I was deprived. Then they told me underprivileged was overused. I was disadvantaged. I still don't have a dime. But I have a great vocabulary.
quote by Jules Feiffer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wanderer's Night-Song
THOU who comest from on high,
Who all woes and sorrows stillest,
Who, for twofold misery,
Hearts with twofold balsam fillest,
Would this constant strife would cease!
What are pain and rapture now?
Blissful Peace,
To my bosom hasten thou!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Eyes All Watery
Eyes all watery, red and sore,
I've had days like this before.
I look around but cannot see
anything but misery.
Common sense has gone astray
and so the sadness comes my way.
'Snap out of it girl.' I say aloud.
You're just one of the sorrowful crowd.
You can't change the way people are.
Their emotional growth is still afar.
All you can do is dry your eyes
and try your best to sympathize
and help the needy, help the poor
and all the ones who are unsure.'
I'm sure that all of us on the earth
have gone theough tragedies since our birth,
If not in this lifetime, then in another
as a sister, a brother, a father or mother.
We will learn through ecstasy and pain
and those that don't will have to remain
with eyes all watery, red and sore
until spiritual evolution will show them the door
to truth.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Prayer
Often the western wind has sung to me,
There have been voices in the streams and meres,
And pitiful trees have told me, God, of Thee :
And I heard not. Oh ! open Thou mine ears.
The reeds have whispered low as I passed by,
' Be strong, O friend, be strong, put off vain fears,
Vex not they soul with doubts, God cannot lie ' :
And I heard not. Oh ! open Thou mine ears.
There have been many stars to guide my feet,
Often the delicate moon, hearing my sighs,
Has rent the clouds and shown a silver street;
And I saw not. Oh ! open Thou mine eyes.
Angels have beckoned me unceasingly,
And walked with me ; and from the sombre skies
Dear Christ Himself has stretched out hands to me ;
And I saw not. Oh ! open Thou mine eyes.
poem by Lord Alfred Douglas
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Chanson
Fire your arrows ans scatter your enemies,
For the frog in the pond is ready to sing;
But the cleanness of your hands is like the cleannes of your eyes.
You are very dear to my heart like the feet of the deer,
But bring your ears to me to hear my words;
And broaden the path beneath you with my love.
Heaven's messengers proclaim your glory,
And the expanse of the sky declared your love;
For my speech is with knowledge and to the wise,
But i need Chanson tonight to guide you on.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Misery
Misery
By: Adam M. Snow
Here I am alone in somber;
as I rest calmly here in my chamber.
Suddenly there rose a clatter;
for I hear it calling out to me;
'Who's there that my eyes cannot see? '
I said as the voices replied,
'Misery is me, I am your misery.'
I rose from my slumber;
with haste of morning ember;
to be stopped by an essence of me.
'How can this be? ' I said. 'Truly it can't be me.'
This is too real even for a dream;
truly it cant even be a ream.
'So who are you to be a reflection of me? '
Thus he replied, 'I am your misery.'
He said he is my misery;
if that is the case how can that be?
for I've held this pain in for so long;
that I do not know what went wrong;
for I am also numb,
weary, dreary, and some;
for I know not what would become of me;
if I was to set it free.
For I know now that this will be the end of me;
to be killed by my own misery.
I reach deeply within myself letting loose of my feelings;
as my misery whispered in my ear; he said, 'Your time is near.'
Must this be, for I feel that I'm not ready?
For all the things that I have done, I am truly sorry.
This is truly the end of me;
thus my last words be,
'Misery is me, I am my misery.'
poem by Adam M. Snow
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The Blind Slave Boy
Come back to me, mother! why linger away
From thy poor little blind boy, the long weary day!
I mark every footstep, I list to each tone,
And wonder my mother should leave me alone!
But there’s no one to joy or to sorrow with me;
For each hath of pleasure and trouble his share,
And none for the poor little blind boy will care.
My mother, come back to me! close to thy breast
Once more let thy poor little blind one be pressed;
Once more let me feel they warm breath on my cheek,
And hear thee in accents of tenderness speak!
O mother! I’ve no one to love me – no heart
Can bear like thine own in my sorrows a part;
No hand is so gentle, no voice is so kind,
O! none like a mother can cherish the blind!
Poor blind one! No mother thy wailing can hear,
No mother can hasten to banish thy fear;
And for one paltry dollar hath sold thee, poor child!
Ah! who can in language of mortals reveal
The anguish that none but a mother can feel,
When man is his vile lust of mammon hath trod
On her child, who is stricken and smitten of God!
Blind, helpless, forsaken, with strangers alone,
She hears in her anguish his piteous moan,
As he eagerly listens—but listens in vain,
To catch the loved tones of his mother again!
The curse of the broken in spirit shall fall
On the wretch who hath mingled this wormwood and gall,
And his gain like a mildew shall blight and destroy,
Who hath torn from his mother the little blind boy!
poem by Anonymous Americas
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The Image of a Friend
As I look through the window of friendship,
I see in the gentle wind,
The whispered breeze of an angel,
It is in the image of 'friend'.
This friend has a heart of compassion,
Caring that comes without end,
The giving of love to others,
Characterizes my dear friend.
This friend has hands that carry,
The load of your burdens with ease,
Hands that will hold others' problems,
Grasping with love, not to cease.
This friend has eyes, understanding,
That see to the heart of a soul,
Eyes that are never condemning,
But rather see new ways to grow.
This friend has ears that listen,
And hear the call of a friend,
Ears that will cherish the moment,
And take the time to lend.
The image of friend described here,
Is the picture I see in my mind,
When I look through the window of life,
Your image is what I find!
poem by Jean Penner
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My Ears - My Eyes
My ears are my eyes because I am blind.
When I cross the street I listen for the sound of cars braking.
My ears are my eyes.
When I enter a room I tap my cane onto the floor and listen for the distance the echo travel to know how far I am away from someone else. My ears are my eyes.
I may never physical see the beauty of a spring day, but when I hear the birds are chirping, bikes constantly peddling by and lovers saying I love you. I know it is a beautiful spring day. I may be blind but I still see my ears are my eyes.
Note: No I am not blind myself but I know several people who are and this is me letting the rest of the world how they see through my poetry.
That Is For......my Eyes Are Closed
1
this is for
The soldier who died today
in your unfinished poem
God has heard all
His sighs.
2
Unfinished poems
Are miraculous
They make God
Hear us
They make us
Think.
they make us
write
our own to finish our own
to fill our own
emptiness
3
He is great
He is good
He is wise
He is omnipresent
He is omnipotent
He is compassionate
He is Love
He is grand
He is the Answer
He is peace
4
Let us have vodka
For a drink
The people here are poor
Let us have rice wine instead.
5
Let not the other half of
The darkness that you see
Create the eclipse of your
Light, let the other half that
You claim you own
shine some more
6
I am watching with my ears
Wide open,
because my eyes are
Closed from the beginning.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Flora of the Eden: Antwerp
Eyes that sought my eyes, an-hungered, as a fire;
Hands that sought and caught my hands in their desire;
Hands and eyes that clipt and lipt me as a hungering fire!
But I turned away from your ecstatic eyes,
But my heart was silent to your eager sighs,
But I turned to other eyes from your imploring eyes.
Hands that I rejected, you were fain to give;
Eyes that for their moment loved me, as I live;
Mouth that kissed me: Flora of the Eden, O forgive!
poem by Arthur Symons
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