Converse with men makes sharp the glittering wit, but God to man doth speak in solitude.
quote by John Stuart Blackie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When to her Lute Corinna Sings
When to her lute Corinna sings,
Her voice revives the leaden strings,
And doth in highest notes appear,
As any challenged echo clear;
But when she doth of mourning speak,
E'en with her sighs, the strings do break,
And as her lute doth live or die,
Led by her passion, so must I:
For when of pleasure she doth sing,
My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring,
But if she doth of sorrow speak,
E'en from my heart the strings do break
poem by Thomas Campion
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Corinna
When to her lute Corinna sings,
Her voice revives the leaden strings,
And doth in highest notes appear
As any challenged echo clear.
But when she doth of mourning speak,
Even with her sighs the strings do break.
And as her lute doth live or die;
Led by her passion, so must I.
For when of pleasure she doth sing,
My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring;
But if she doth of sorrow speak,
Even from my heart the strings do break.
poem by Thomas Campion
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Angel In Pink Converse
She flew right past me one day,
My eyes must have been blinded by her light,
For seconds later she was gone.
So she must have been an angel,
I fell in love with an angel in pink Converse.
Before I could stop and say ‘hello’,
She’d flown away,
And I could only remember the image of
The angel in pink Converse,
My angel in pink Converse.
If all angels were like she,
I would glad die to join them all,
But could they be more beautiful
Than the angel in pink Converse,
My angel in pink Converse.
Maybe, maybe,
Someday she’ll fly again my way,
And I would stop and talk for awhile,
To the angel in pink Converse,
My angel in pink Converse.
Perhaps they all wear Converse in Heaven?
©Charlie F. Kane
24/04/07
poem by Charlie F. Kane
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Love's Language
How does Love speak?
In the faint flush upon the tell-tale cheek,
And in the pallor that succeeds it; by
The quivering lid of an averted eye –
The smile that proves the parent to a sigh –
Thus doth Love speak.
How does Love speak?
By the uneven heart-throbs, and the freak
Of bounding pulses that stand still and ache,
While new emotions, like strange barques, make
Along vein-channels their disturbing course;
Still as the dawn, and with the dawn’s swift force –
Thus doth Love speak.
How does Love speak?
In the avoidance of that which we seek –
The sudden silence and reserve when near –
The eye that glistens with an unshed tear –
The joy that seems the counterpart of fear,
As the alarmed heart leaps in the breast,
And knows, and names, the greets its god-like guest –
Thus doth Love speak.
How doth Love speak?
In the proud spirit suddenly grown meek –
The haughty heart grown humble; in the tender
And unnamed light that floods the world with splendour,
In the resemblance which the fond eyes trace
In all things to one beloved face;
In the shy touch of hands that thrill and tremble;
In looks and lips that can no more dissemble –
Thus doth Love speak.
How doth Love speak?
In the wild words that uttered seem so weak
They shrink ashamed to silence; in the fire
Glance strikes with glance, swift flashing high and higher,
Like lightnings that precede the mighty storm;
In the deep, soulful stillness; in the warm,
Impassioned tide that sweeps through throbbing veins,
Between the shores of keen delights and pains;
In the embrace where madness melts in bliss,
And in convulsive rapture of a kiss –
Thus doth Love speak.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Sign Of Solitude
GN OF SOLITUDE
A lugubrious tree high above the lot,
Yearning for an embrace tight,
It is a sign of solitude.
From the leafy world of forest deep,
A fluttery leaf falls when ripe,
It is a sign of solitude.
A scarlet flower shakes its head
But the wind dooms a petal dead,
It `s a sign of solitude.
A flock of birds among the clouds,
Finding all a bliss to the eyes,
A hunter lurks below on earth,
Aims one down for a wholesome feast,
That is a sign of solitude.
Friendship, kinship and lover's bliss,
Frizzles to mud at death's one kiss.
Jocund jolly friendly men,
Shrinks to viscid pit alone.
So death is a sign of solitude.
Glorious sun who makes us gay,
Is a loner in the Milky Way?
So HE is a sign of solitude.
poem by Sheela Devi
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Solitude and Silence
All I have to offer
is solitude and silence.
No accomplishments to speak of,
having never finished anything
worth finishing
except bad relationships
and good friendships
I now regret not keeping.
Those I feel closest to
are the farthest away from me
while I keep myself distant
from those who are near.
If all you seek is solitude and silence,
this I can promise you without breaking.
I only ask, in return, to be allowed
my silence and solitude
from you.
poem by Juge Sopczak
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The Furious Gun
The furious gun in his raging ire,
When that the bowl is rammed in too sore
And that the flame cannot part from the fire,
Cracketh in sunder, and in the air doth roar
The shivered pieces; right so doth my desire,
Whose flame increaseth from more to more,
Which to let out I dare not look or speak;
So now hard force my heart doth all to break.
poem by Sir Thomas Wyatt
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In The Solitude Of My Mind
As I sit and watch the fire’s glow
in the solitude of my mind,
I can see more than any person realises.
I sometimes wonder if it is the future
my mind allows me to see,
or am I daydreaming
hypnotised by the dancing flames.
I can sit for hours
enchanted under its spell
and visit many countries
in the solitude of my mind.
The world has no boundaries;
there is no place I cannot go,
no tongue that I cannot speak,
as I sit in silence
in the solitude of my mind.
3 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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Lucasta Laughing
Heark, how she laughs aloud,
Although the world put on its shrowd:
Wept at by the fantastic crowd,
Who cry: one drop, let fall
From her, might save the universal ball.
She laughs again
At our ridiculous pain;
And at our merry misery
She laughs, until she cry.
Sages, forbear
That ill-contrived tear,
Although your fear
Doth barricado hope from your soft ear.
That which still makes her mirth to flow,
Is our sinister-handed woe,
Which downwards on its head doth go,
And, ere that it is sown, doth grow.
This makes her spleen contract,
And her just pleasure feast:
For the unjustest act
Is still the pleasant'st jest.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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The Weight of Poetry
Poetry is core of arts
It’s not strange!
Not knowing that poetry is core of all arts
It’s not strange as well!
The many who don’t know that poetry is core of all arts
It’s not a strange at all!
Although the poets usually make foes against vulgarity
A city makes the poets wandering on the streets
Should utterly lack of the manner and style
A society brings the resentment to the poets
Should fully lack of consciousness
Solitude is the major topic in life
Solitude is poetry
Lack of poetry, art is a form of imitation
Lack of poetry, power is a presumptuous mediocrity
Lack of poetry, fortune is a wealthy poverty
Lack of poetry, love is a superficial organ
The extreme of love- solitude
The extreme of wealth- solitude
The extreme of power – solitude
The extreme of art- solitude
The extreme of climax - solitude
The extreme of world - solitude
The extreme of planets- solitude
Those who have never explored loneliness
Can write down the weight of poetry?
poem by DePen Chang
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Sonnet XVIII: With What Sharp Checks
With what sharp checks I in myself am shent,
When into Reason's audit I do go:
And by just counts myself a bankrupt know
Of all the goods, which heav'n to me hath lent:
Unable quite to pay even Nature's rent,
Which unto it by birthright I do owe:
And, which is worse, no good excuse can show,
But that my wealth I have most idly spend.
My youth doth waste, my knowledge brings forth toys,
My wit doth strive those passions to defend,
Which for reward spoil it with vain annoys.
I see my course to lose myself doth bend:
I see and yet no greater sorrow take,
Than that I lose no more for Stella's sake.
poem by Philip Sidney
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You Who Have Never Been There....
what then doth the bird
learn from the cage?
what doth the bare limb
learn from the snow?
what doth the starving child
learn from his hunger?
what doth the homeless man
learn from the lighted window?
what doth the oppressed
learn from his oppression?
what doth the one discriminated against
learn from discrimination?
what doth the hopeless one
learn from his despair?
is it that easy for you to know,
you who have never been there?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Exordium
Speak! said my soul, be stern and adequate;
The sunset falls from Heaven, the year is late,
Love waits with fallen tresses at thy gate
And mourns for perished days.
Speak! in the rigor of thy fate and mine,
Ere these scant, dying days, bright-lipped with wine,
All one by one depart, resigned, divine,
Through desert, autumn ways.
Speak! thou art lonely in thy chilly mind,
With all this desperate solitude of wind,
The solitude of tears that make thee blind,
Of wild and causeless tears.
Speak! thou hast need of me, heart, hand and head,
Speak, if it be an echo of thy dread,
A dirge of hope, of young illusions dead --
Perchance God hears!
poem by George Cabot Lodge
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Act II, Scene III
Act II, Scene III:
'Solitude, lovely, solitude' the
Queen claims to the air
Carries away a message
on the wind
may her Love hear
'Upon mine knees, the rapture there, in thought
mine love doth dwell
Carry away mine heart to thee,
fulfilling all ecstasy
With single purpose full of thought
search thee out and comfort bring
For on mine lips a song
doth ring
My Love, my Love where err thou go, my Love, mine heart to thee bestow'
Sitting, silent listening to the clatter below
Taking drink and ponders
feeling the know
poem by Queen Oneeightytwo
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Destiny cries for my soul.
Where is my life when it goes away?
Where is my knowledge when I die?
I have no hope in this world of solitude,
I have no regard to my surroundings,
When I pass.
Must my whole being pass without being noticed?
Must I stay here in this prison and watch my family
Die to no end?
I can not stay in this fortress known as life.
I can’t let my soul fade from the grasp of eternal death.
What makes us who we are?
What makes us choose the way we do?
I have no answer,
But to the end of my solitude far from you,
Will I understand my destiny.
poem by Breana DeHart
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Speeeeeech!
does it make difference you speak in front of many people or alone
does it make difference you speech in historic place or in your toilet
does it make difference you are charismatic leader or unknown beggar from streetside
it makes difference you speak to clash conflict or for better world
it makes difference you speech bonded by past or to move forward
it makes difference you depend by fact or just soap service
does it make difference you read from text or speak fluently
does it make difference you speech in busy market or deserted mountain
does it make difference you write words yourself or scrap it from books and paper
it makes difference everybody exitedly listens or sleeps peacefully on their seats
it makes difference you have freedom to speak or prisoned by intimidation
it makes difference it gives effect or just a long boring speech
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How does Love speak?
In the faint flush upon the tell-tale cheek,
And in the pallor that succeeds it; by
The quivering lid of an averted eye -
The smile that proves the parent of a sigh:
Thus doth Love speak.
How does Love speak?
By the uneven heart-throbs, and the freak
Of bounding pulses that stand still and ache
While new emotions, like strange barges, make
Along vein-channels their disturbing course,
Still as the dawn, and with the dawn's swift force:
Thus doth Love speak.
How does Love speak?
In the avoidance of that which we seek
The sudden silence and reserve when near;
The eye that glistens with an unshed tear;
The joy that seems the counterpart of fear,
As the alarmed heart leads in the breast,
And knows, and names, and greets its godlike guest:
Thus doth Love speak.
How does Love speak?
In the proud spirit suddenly grown meek,
The haughty heart grown humble; in the tender
And unnamed light that floods the world with splendour;
In the resemblance which the fond eyes trace
In all fair things to one beloved face;
In the shy touch of hands that thrill and tremble;
In looks and lips that can no more dissemble:
Thus doth Love speak.
How does Love speak?
In wild words that uttered seem so weak
They shrink ashamed to silence; in the fire
Glance strikes with glance, swift flashing high and higher,
Like lightnings that precede the mighty storm
In the deep, soulful stillness; in the warm,
Impassioned tide that sweeps thro' throbbing veins,
Between the shores of keen delights and pains;
In the embrace where madness melts in bliss,
And in the convulsive rapture of a kiss:
Thus doth Love speak.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The world continues to offer glittering prizes to those who have stout hearts and sharp swords.
quote by F.E. Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ridge 1. 1
The holy girl is our focus
Shes the story of us all
She can feel our eyes upon her
And the hope that she will fall
On her left so warm and honey-sweet
Like a jealous loving friend
On her right such a steep cold and lonely climb
The clinging threat of rejection
And the thought of her imperfections
She says shes nowhere near the end yet
And she makes no guarantees
Shes comfortable with failure
And her blood may one day freeze
And in her iodine stretch
Her eyes recede and roll away
She knows shes where nothing can reach her now
Beyond where you can see
Beyond where she wants to be
She walks the ridge
So glassy sharp
You cant find her now
You cant speak to her now
Shes going out again
One day she was a child
She could touch the sun somehow
She was held in the arms of the galaxy
And that child is with her now
And in her cobalt moments
Shell show that shes afraid
Her hands reach out and grasp at you
But shes falling further
Falling further in the churning dark slide
She walks the ridge
So glassy sharp
You cant find her now
You cant speak to her now
Shes closing off again
Now shes walking slowly onward
Through the garden you cant know
Her dance so beautiful so twisted
A spinning madness in the snow
Shes got a black hole in there with her
Shes got the sun all in there too
Theyre her partners in her eternal dance
Shes not aware of time moving past her
Shes not aware of getting any further
She walks the ridge
So glassy sharp
You cant find her now
You cant speak to her now
Shell never cry again
song performed by by Information Society
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ode To A Solitary Mind - 2
Oh mind what is that magnitude
attracting you always to solitude
without any sort of gratitude
for the goodness of the world.
with solitude when you campaign
with it's effects like the champagne
you fell and think of the orgies,
That teach you ungreatfulness
for the world with some goodness,
It, thus, dipicts your hollowness.
Solitude makes melancholy to you
Driving the mirth from you away
Deprieving you of the worldly joys
You get nothing though you grieve.
Lonely and binding yourself in a trance
Of solitude you forgo the chance
To give goodness & get it in return
From the world in your turn
from the society into spiteful
Aloofness which is too painful.
Poet: Ratnakar D Mandlik
poem by Ratnakar Mandlik
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