En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Magic Wand

As an April garden
Breathes the scent of rain -
Rain that calls her treasures
Back to life again -
So my spirit quickens to the opening strain.

In its sheath of darkness
Fancy's folded wing
Thrills and stirs and quivers
To another spring,
When the bow is drawn across the trembling string.

In their grave of silence,
In their husk and core,
Dreams that winter buried
Feel the sap once more
Running warm and vital, as it ran before.

Into secret chambers
Where old passions sleep,
Through the long-closed shutters,
Lights of morning creep:
Through the opening doorway airs of morning sweep.

Hope resurgent, and Youth,
With their dancing train,
Mingled grief and glory,
Blended bliss and pain,
Ecstasies and agonies, come forth and live again.

Wizard hand that summoned
Each forgotten ghost,
Plays like wind or water
With the spell-bound host,
Sailing seas supernal, for no earthly coast.

Yet no magic music
That an ear can mark
Draws them winging upward
Through the mist and dark,
As the sky at sunrise draws the mounting lark.

Through the poet-spirit,
Touched with heavenly fire,
Heavenly voices whisper
In the wood and wire.
God is the musician, and my soul the lyre.

poem by Ada Cambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

With The Lark

Night is for sorrow and dawn is for joy,
Chasing the troubles that fret and annoy;
Darkness for sighing and daylight for song,--
Cheery and chaste the strain, heartfelt and strong.
All the night through, though I moan in the dark,
I wake in the morning to sing with the lark.

Deep in the midnight the rain whips the leaves,
Softly and sadly the wood-spirit grieves.
But when the first hue of dawn tints the sky,
I shall shake out my wings like the birds and be dry;
And though, like the rain-drops, I grieved through the dark,
I shall wake in the morning to sing with the lark.

On the high hills of heaven, some morning to be,
Where the rain shall not grieve thro' the leaves of the tree,
There my heart will be glad for the pain I have known,
For my hand will be clasped in the hand of mine own;
And though life has been hard and death's pathway been dark,
I shall wake in the morning to sing with the lark.

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Insomnia

Thin are the night-skirts left behind
By daybreak hours that onward creep,
And thin, alas! the shred of sleep
That wavers with the spirit's wind:
But in half-dreams that shift and roll
And still remember and forget,
My soul this hour has drawn your soul
A little nearer yet.

Our lives, most dear, are never near,
Our thoughts are never far apart,
Though all that draws us heart to heart
Seems fainter now and now more clear.
To-night Love claims his full control,
And with desire and with regret
My soul this hour has drawn your soul
A little nearer yet.

Is there a home where heavy earth
Melts to bright air that breathes no pain,
Where water leaves no thirst again
And springing fire is Love's new birth?
If faith long bound to one true goal
May there at length its hope beget,
My soul that hour shall draw your soul
For ever nearer yet.

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Listening

1.

When earth's winter bareness
Feels the April rain,
All her summer fairness
Comes to life again.
So my spirit quickens to that magic strain.

2.

Fancy, warmed and brightened,
Spreads her folded wings —
Passion, stirred, enlightened,
From its slumber springs —
When that bow is laid upon those trembling strings.

3.

Visions, past all telling,
Sweet and strange, I see;
Mystic voices, swelling —
Melting — cry to me
From celestial realms of hope and memory.

4.

Tender thoughts caress me,
Like a summer's day;
Sterner moods possess me,
As the rough winds play
With an autumn leaf untimely cast away.

5.

Fierce desires come creeping
From their secret lair;
Wild regrets, upleaping,
At my heartstrings tear —
Wildest aspirations, more than I can bear.

6.

Like a leaf I quiver
With responsive thrills —
Ache, and burn, and shiver,
As the Master wills
Whose mysterious message all my being fills.

7.

Dreams of grace and glory,
Always out of reach —
Truths untold in story,
That no book can teach,
Past all human language, find their native speech.

8.

O what wailing sadness
That no tongue may tell,
What enraptured gladness,
In those wild notes swell —
Bliss and anguish both — divine, ineffable!

9.

Joys and woes unspoken,
Whereof earth is rife,
Dear hopes blest and broken,
Futile pain and strife,
Birth and death and love, the tragedy of life.

10.

And my soul, attending,
Through my listening ears
In those strains heartrending
Its own history hears —
All too sweet for words, too terrible for tears.

poem by Ada Cambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Ghost

The yawning creak of the door
as ivy branches tap the windowpane,
dancing shadows from the candle
caught in a draught from beneath the door.
I sit in what is reputed to be a very haunted room
waiting to see a ghost no one has ever seen.
They’ve only heard the wailing
in the middle of the night.
Therefore, I’m sitting here
my imagination wanting to play tricks
on me as darkness falls.
I’ve come to help this lost wailing spirit
that seems bound to this room
and to help release it
into the heavenly light,
also to find its secret
why it is bound to this room.

The town clock chimes midnight.
I wait, but nothing happens.
Maybe the lost wailing spirit
has taken the night off.
A voice sounded from the gloom.
“Excuse me, are you still up? ”
I looked around
and there by the doorway
stood a tall dark figure there.
“Yes, how can I help you? ”
“Please put out the candle
as it is keeping me awake.”
“But this room is haunted
and I’m waiting to see the ghost.”
Then came, a hearty chuckle
from the dark figure.
“So they got you at as well.
Turn out the candle
and get good nights sleep.
There is no ghost here.
Who on earth told you that.
Whoever it was
just tell them Smiler told you so.”
The next morning
after one of the best sleeps,
I have ever had.
I told the proprietor who had invited me.
They laughed when I told them
that Smiler had told me so.
When they stopped laughing
they said. “Smiler is the ghost
we were telling you about.”

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

April, Dear April

April, dear April, I beg you come soon –
And bring your sweet primroses too.
Let them join in with the daffodils’ play,
As skies offer sunshine anew.

April, dear April, my blessed spring child,
Ornate in your yellow and white,
Teasing the birds into trilling their songs
And dancing to music of flight.

April, dear April, come enter my dreams
And rid me from cold winter chills.
Banish the rain and those blustery winds
And warm up our countryside hills.

April, dear April, I know you can’t stay -
You have to move on ‘till next year.
And though I shall cherish the glory of summer,
You’ll always be my month most dear.

From: Succumbed to Thinking by Mark Raymond Slaughter, lulu.com
Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved

April April April April
April April April April
April April April April

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Out Of The Silence

Here in the silence cometh unto me
A song that is not mine,
With wash of waves along the cold shore line,
And sob of wind, and rain upon the sea.
It is the song and message of the dead!
Around my soul to-night
I feel the kinship of the Infinite,
I hear the sound of voices that are fled.

And as beneath the viewless angel’s wing
Bethesda’s pool was stirred,
My heart is troubled by the mystic word
Of one who through my soul and lips would sing.

There is no note of wailing in the strain,
But resonant and deep,
Out of the vastness, doth the music sweep,
Into the silence dieth it again.

To breaking hearts it saith, “Be comforted.
With secret pain and tears
And night-long penance thro’ the torturing years
Vex not the spirits of the mighty dead.”

“Weep not thine error done, thy thought untold
Shall not their vision be
Subtler than ours, more delicate to see
All that the fulness of the heart can hold?”

“Make not by grief an evil of their good!
Where the Immortal look
Life’s hidden secrets are an open book,
All thou hast felt is known and understood.”

Out of the silence thro’ my soul to thine,
From realms unknown,
A breath of tenderness from far lips blown
Floats, with the promise of a Peace Divine.

And soaring thro’ the shadows where we grope
A mighty cadence rings,
A spirit moves with morning on its wings—
The Voice and Vision of Eternal Hope!

poem by George Essex Evans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Whither Traveller

Rattle fall rat grey rain,
Lightning torches only the sky,
Earthly feet gropes as braille
Soul's way in night's darkness.
Steamed stew, warm bed, light,
All not me, recedes
Save soaked wood scent

And the crow's croak
Or forest's voice in crow's accent-
Pure cosmology of perfection,
Where began creation
Beyond man's invention-
Dawn opening out to nature,
Reveals this morning of life.

poem by Yoonoos Peerbocus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Sunrise To Sunset

(coverdale)
In the morning when I wake up
Looking forward to the day
When I will take your hand
And sing you songs
And maybe you will say
Come lay with me and love me
And you will take my hand
And lead me to your chamber
Where I will be a man
I will love you from sunrise to sunset
Even when the skies are filled with rain
And when the morning comes and you are sleeping
I will love you when you wake again
And when we lay together
Realizing what it means
Drifting in the deep of sleep
Surrounded by our dreams
Yes we will have our sailing ship, our castles in the sand
And we will walk upon the shore forever hand in hand
I will love you from sunrise to sunset
Even when the skies are filled with rain
And when the morning comes and you are sleeping
I will love you when you wake again
I will love you from sunrise to sunset
Even when the skies are filled with rain
I will love you from sunrise to sunset
Even when the skies are filled with rain
I will love you from sunrise to sunset
Even when the skies are filled with rain
I will love you from sunrise to sunset
Even when the skies are filled with rain ...

song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Ere Sleep Comes Down To Soothe The Weary Eyes

ERE sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
Which all the day with ceaseless care have sought
The magic gold which from the seeker flies;
Ere dreams put on the gown and cap of thought,
And make the waking world a world of lies, —
Of lies most palpable, uncouth, forlorn,
That say life's full of aches and tears and sighs, —
Oh, how with more than dreams the soul is torn,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
How all the griefs and heartaches we have known
Come up like pois'nous vapors that arise
From some base witch's caldron, when the crone
To work some potent spell, her magic plies.
The past which held its share of bitter pain,
Whose ghost we prayed that Time might exorcise,
Comes up, is lived and suffered o'er again,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
What phantoms fill the dimly lighted room;
What ghostly shades in awe-creating guise
Are bodied forth within the teeming gloom.
What echoes faint of sad and soul-sick cries,
And pangs of vague inexplicable pain
That pay the spirit's ceaseless enterprise,
Come thronging through the chambers of the brain,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
Where ranges forth the spirit far and free?
Through what strange realms and unfamiliar skies
Tends her far course to lands of mystery?
To lands unspeakable — beyond surmise,
Where shapes unknowable to being spring,
Till, faint of wing, the Fancy fails and dies
Much wearied with the spirit's journeying,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
How questioneth the soul that other soul, —
The inner sense which neither cheats nor lies,
But self exposes unto self, a scroll
Full writ with all life's acts unwise or wise,
In characters indelible and known;
So, trembling with the shock of sad surprise,
The soul doth view its awful self alone,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
When sleep comes down to seal the weary eyes,
The last dear sleep whose soft embrace is balm,
And whom sad sorrow teaches us to prize
For kissing all our passions into calm,
Ah, then, no more we heed the sad world's cries,
Or seek to probe th' eternal mystery,
Or fret our souls at long-withheld replies,
At glooms through which our visions cannot see,
When sleep comes down to seal the weary eyes.

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Almost Everything

Music by richard marx and bruce gaitsch
Lyrics by richard marx
Im waiting for some kind of healing to begin
And I wonder if you know the kind of pain Im in
Its hard wondering just what it is you see
There hasnt been a moment youve been off my mind
Ive searched through every meditation I can find
As if something could bring you back to me
Do I go on in silence
Or shout at the sky
Give me all the earthly treasures
That a single man can hold
Put the magic in my fingers
That turns everything to gold
Hand me the sun, say that Ive won
The world on a string
And then I will have almost everything
I imagine you until I swear I feel your touch
And I read the words you wrote me when it gets too much
The one piece of solace I can steal
I still need you in my life
Like never before
Give me all the earthly treasures
That a single man can hold
Put the magic in my fingers
That turns everything to gold
Hand me the sun, say I have won
The world on a string
And then I will have almost everything
I still need you in my life
More than ever before
Give me all the earthly treasures
That a single man can hold
Put the magic in my fingers
That turns everything to gold
Hand me the sun, say I have won
The world on a string
And then I will have almost everything

song performed by by Richard Marx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Buddhist Lesson # 2

enlightment,
the act of opening,
like a rosebud,

like a mother,
opening the door...
like a child

opening a present,
like a woman
opening to a man....

opening...
all the hidden chambers,
every door to every

secret kingdom of the soul.....
opening the box that holds
your secret thoughts, desires....

opening...
the door of the cage,
letting the winged breath fly....

opening....
your heart to itself,
and to all hearts beating....

opening....
the vault of conceptions,
the entrance to the tomb

of past lives and memories....
opening...
your hands to the world

as if it were your neighbor,
and you, it's home!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Unceasing Rain

Unceasing is the rain, all of pain
And suffering, and mild anger;
Its cold nature is choice
And lasting effects are present
In the dropping rain.
Unceasing is the rain, always some rain
Is absent some of the day,
Opening a sacred time, of special
Leaning, a laugh is heard sometimes.
The showers are sending heavenly sights
Altogether heavenly, how awesome!

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

To A Tulip-Bulb

SLEEP first,
And let the storm and winter do their worst;
Let all the garden lie
Bare to the angry sky,
The shed leaves shiver and die
Above your bed;
Let the white coverlet
Of sunlit snow be set
Over your sleeping head,
While in the earth you sleep
Where dreams are dear and deep,
And heed nor wind nor snow,
Nor how the dark moons go.
In this sad upper world where Winter's hand
Has bound with chains of ice the weary land.

Then wake
To see the whole world lovely for Spring's sake;
The garden fresh and fair
With green things everywhere,
And winter's want and care
Banished and fled;
Primrose and violet
In every border set,
With rain and sunshine fed.
Then bless the fairy song
That cradled you so long,
And bless the fairy kiss
That wakened you to this--
A world where Winter's dead and Spring doth reign
And lovers whisper in the budding lane.

poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

What A Beautiful Sound

beautiful sounds
that stir the heart
free awakening soul
lift flight sky spirit

sound of river running wide unified flowing
sound of creek running downhill leaping splashing
sound of stillness crisp haunting in still mountain morning
sound of wind timeless moving over through forest trees growing

sound of whispers retracting as first soft snow flutters falling
sound of soft rain tender kissing warm earth embraces water waiting
sound of rain heavy droplets embracing dancing love symphony greeting

sound of storm clouds fast running painting sky black spiraling
sound of thunder freedom singing vibrating through poet laughing
sound of morning awaking to gentle joy of my young daughters laughing

a beautiful sound is bliss joy of young daughters happiness laughing
a beautiful sound is healthy children fed soul wonder bliss laughing
a beautiful sound is our well fed children in joy mind song laughing
a beautiful sound is God smiling with me in child mind song laughing

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

To Imagination

When weary with the long day's care,
And earthly change from pain to pain,
And lost and ready to despair,
Thy kind voice calls me back again:
Oh, my true friend! I am not lone,
While thou canst speak with such a tone!

So hopeless is the world without;
The world within I doubly prize;
Thy world, where guile, and hate, and doubt,
And cold suspicion never rise;
Where thou, and I, and Liberty,
Have undisputed sovereignty.

What matters it, that, all around,
Danger, and guilt, and darkness lie,
If but within our bosom's bound
We hold a bright, untroubled sky,
Warm with ten thousand mingled rays
Of suns that know no winter days?

Reason, indeed, may oft complain
For Nature's sad reality,
And tell the suffering heart, how vain
Its cherished dreams must always be;
And Truth may rudely trample down
The flowers of Fancy, newly-blown:

But, thou art ever there, to bring
The hovering vision back, and breathe
New glories o'er the blighted spring,
And call a lovelier Life from Death,
And whisper, with a voice divine,
Of real worlds, as bright as thine.

I trust not to thy phantom bliss,
Yet, still, in evening's quiet hour,
With never-failing thankfulness,
I welcome thee, Benignant Power;
Sure solacer of human cares,
And sweeter hope, when hope despairs!

poem by Emily Jane Brontë
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Burn And Rage

alone...
in a room of voices,
dirty curtains sweating,
bodies without heat!

you buried me,
a 100 miles back...
poured milk on my grave,
and answered the phone.

but even the scar throbs,
the moon calls...
and the fire in the fugitive field,
burns down.

old men tell stories,
old poets burn and rage...
run with wolves, mad and hungry,
for touch, skin, and need!

when the soul becomes a tongue,
and fingers break windows.
the water in the well boils,
owls tremble and undress.

the hand that calls rain...
shakes, lights a smoke!
sweat sings on the pillow,
the scent of wild flowers.

travelling the night...
looking for a match!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

I Blew A Kiss

My heart is filled with so much love
Suddenly, there is heaven in my heart
The bells are ringing in the sky
Sounds like a symphony

So I blew a kiss on a wind
Scattered into the fields of love
That sways together with the four leaf clover
And flew into the petals of rose
Just close your eyes,
Feel the love that dances to the music of sunrise

I hear laughter at the morning skies
On were the morning sun has begun to rise
As a golden fire scattered at the meadow
Like this love arose as a morning glow
That is woven from thin air
Embroidered by the sunshine and rain

I blew a kiss in the rain
And put some sunshine on your way
To hold your fears to cast them away
For you to keep safe and warm
If the wind blows and shadow appear,
I blew a kiss to help you find the smile again

I blew a kiss on water from the spring
That flows on the ocean of the stream
Take a ride on a wave of love
My heart will flow like a river to the sea
And glide deep within your soul.
To bathe your tears and pain

You walk into this feeling
Like a rainbow that colored my day
Like a cloud that has passed my way
As a wind that dip within my toes

I blew a kiss at the rainbow sky
As a promise that brings you a smile
Sprinkle magic in your eyes,
Come to me and hold me
And you will see
A love that I had painted on a blue sky

I blew a kiss at the stars
In this darkest hour of the night
Whisper wish on their shinning light
In a vivid twilight that sparkle in your eyes
As holding dreams that never die,
Just close your eyes forget all the sorrow

poem by Cheryl Aldea
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Anticipation

How beautiful the earth is still,
To thee - how full of happiness!
How little fraught with real ill,
Or unreal phantoms of distress!
How spring can bring thee glory, yet,
And summer win thee to forget
December's sullen time!
Why dost thou hold the treasure fast,
Of youth's delight, when youth is past,
And thou art near thy prime?

When those who were thy own compeers,
Equals in fortune and in years,
Have seen their morning melt in tears,
To clouded, smileless day;
Blest, had they died untried and young,
Before their hearts went wandering wrong,
Poor slaves, subdued by passions strong,
A weak and helpless prey!

" Because, I hoped while they enjoyed,
And, by fulfilment, hope destroyed;
As children hope, with trustful breast,
I waited bliss - and cherished rest.
A thoughtful spirit taught me, soon,
That we must long till life be done;
That every phase of earthly joy
Must always fade, and always cloy:

This I foresaw - and would not chase
The fleeting treacheries;
But, with firm foot and tranquil face,
Held backward from that tempting race,
Gazed o'er the sands the waves efface,
To the enduring seas - ;
There cast my anchor of desire
Deep in unknown eternity;
Nor ever let my spirit tire,
With looking for what is to be!

It is hope's spell that glorifies,
Like youth, to my maturer eyes,
All Nature's million mysteries,
The fearful and the fair -
Hope soothes me in the griefs I know;
She lulls my pain for others' woe,
And makes me strong to undergo
What I am born to bear.

Glad comforter! will I not brave,
Unawed, the darkness of the grave?
Nay, smile to hear Death's billows rave -
Sustained, my guide, by thee?
The more unjust seems present fate,
The more my spirit swells elate,
Strong, in thy strength, to anticipate
Rewarding destiny !"

poem by Emily Jane Brontë
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Scent Of Summer

The woodpecker picking skins from the trees,
Summer air hardly blowing, heavy and humid,
Make female flutter in the wind as naked goddess,
Greet the fluttering fan blowing in their hand.

A windy ripple of joy amides fragrant the smiles,
Like the scent of mist loitering in a new morning ray?
Falling from heaven upon rugged hills with limpid tress,
Make a noise blushing in leafy shade of the day.

Up in the sky, morning glory shows a brilliant fire,
And the young hairy grass whisper with a different voice,
Call unto drowsy fields for nature to awake from slumber,
Take into the air beauty of presiding choice.

Between dimpled leaves come the buzzing bees,
Clouds go higher, gathered sweat in boughs as rain,
The season bring the scent of summer bloom with ease,
Mingled fragrance in the lovely leaves contain.

A special display of all the aspirations that people have,
Stored up in many small changes of fresh fantasies,
Orchards paths in distant dreams many do crave,
But we can all swallow reality much nearer the pansies.

In sunset shadows the glitter of gold pass sublimed,
Where painted mausoleum pervades dark places,
Which mark that imprint in the sands of our time?
Wind and rain gently step aside from the gorgeous isles.

poem by Gerry Legister
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Don't Want to Live Inside Myself

I am the searcher of my fortunes
I've got my right hand on the wheel
We've got to dig for buried treasures
I know exactly how I feel

I went walkin'thru a grave-yard
Where the darkness is my friend
I heard all about the beginning
I wanna see just where it ends
I have fed the jaded tiger
And every tiger knows my name
But just as long as long as I can see my face
I can tell myself my name
Don't want to live inside myself
I'm much better of alone
But then you must believe in the fallin'rain

In the morning
Bury me down by the river
Saved by the bell
Man for all seasons

song performed by by Bee Gees from Trafalgar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!