Sonnet XV
Above the ruin of God's holy place,
Where man-forsaken lay the bleeding rood,
Whose hands, when men had craved substantial food,
Gave not, nor folded when they cried, Embrace,
I saw exalted in the latter days
Her whom west winds with natal foam bedewed,
Wafted toward Cyprus, lily-breasted, nude,
Standing with arms out-stretched and flower-like face.
And, sick with all those centuries of tears
Shed in the penance for factitious woe,
Once more I saw the nations at her feet,
For Love shone in their eyes, and in their ears
Come unto me, Love beckoned them, for lo!
The breast your lips abjured is still as sweet.
poem by Alan Seeger
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Men And Women.
It is not that I love you — nay! and yet
Had I a lover, he would have your eyes,
Your lips, and be in all like you. Sir, see
This is a rose the winds have harried. Oh!
Here is a violet marred, a lily there.
Poor girls, their love or lover was too cruel;
And we are like them — we you men call flowers;
We, too, like these, are hurt with love, and lie
On the sweet earth so forsaken.
poem by Robert Crawford
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Give to Love
Love came knocking on thy door
With you in sight to love and adore
But thine did give
All that thou have and
need to live?
You gave thine lips for love to speak
You gave thine heart for love's heart's weak
You gave thine face, to love to trace
its tears across thee a sorrowful place
thou give to thy loss when it comes to love!
You gave thine soul to love's control
You gave love thy hand to hold
You gave thy feet for love to kiss
You gave thy happiness to love's bliss
You gave thy breast for love to touch
You gave thine body for love to clutch.
But what did love give thee?
Love took and took and left thee with nothing!
With nothing now you are at peace, thou art free!
This is what love did to me!
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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An Ambassador's Prayer
Lord, please tune my ears so that they may hear
Words spoken by you that I count so dear
Then open my eyes so that they may see
Opportunities for You to work through me
Walk close to me throughout this coming week
And may my lips to all of Your love speak
And please equip my hands to reach and do
Some small work of love and kindness for You
Oh Lord, May these arms of mine by Your grace
through Your great love some struggling soul embrace
Then upon my legs place such willing feet
That walk close to You as others I greet
Blessed Holy Spirit make me I pray
An ambassador for my Lord this day
So that others may look at me and see
The beauty of Jesus shining through me
Love’s Unity
How can I tell thee when I love thee best?
In rapture or repose? how shall I say?
I only know I love thee every way,
Plumed for love's flight, or folded in love's nest.
See, what is day but night bedewed with rest?
And what the night except the tired-out day?
And 'tis love's difference, not love's decay,
If now I dawn, now fade, upon thy breast.
Self-torturing sweet! Is't not the self-same sun
Wanes in the west that flameth in the east,
His fervour nowise altered nor decreased?
So rounds my love, returning where begun,
And still beginning, never most nor least,
But fixedly various, all love's parts in one.
poem by Alfred Austin
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Herbal
Love-lies-bleeding now is found
Grown in every common ground.
Love-lies-bleeding thrives apace
With the dear forget-me-not:
Nor is boy's love out of place
Now in any garden plot.
Love-in-a-mist, bewilderèd
With the many tears Love shed,
Seeks for herb-o'-grace to bind
Up her wounds, and fever-few
To give ease to a hurt mind;
Wound-wort is not wanting too.
Now the love-lies-bleeding grows
More than lily or the rose;
Love-in-idleness has gone
Out of fashion; here are flowers
Heartsease for to rest upon
With remembrance of sweet hours.
Ladders-to-heaven may be found
Now in any common ground.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Dracula Flower
The flower was stretching
It's hand to find a honey-bee
To be embraced and kissed!
The flower remained
In meditation to invoke God
To sent her groom
As she bore the nectar
To be sucked and emptied
By the trunk of a honey-bee
The long hairy hands
Of the flower frightened
The butterflies move wantonly
The caterpillars jumping
In quest to quench the thirst!
As the flower in penance
Heard the humming
Of a honey-bee unseen
She opened her eyes
In search to up and sides
And she was enthused
To see the blue-black
Groom of her from heaven
With wings shivering
As if in a whirl wind
Moving to her lips
To kiss and empty her!
The flower leaped her hand
To embrace the honey-bee
Whose nail ladden legs
Did wand her hands
Yet she never let loose
Her embrace to get-him close
To her breast stored with honey.
The honey-bee sucking nectar
From the lips of the flower
Never see him trapped
In the tangle of figments.
He struggled and jerked
But the flower sucked
The honey-bee's life
In return to her nectar he sucked
poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan
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Lily Of The West
When first I came to louisville, some pleasure there to find
A damsel there from lexington was pleasing to my mind
Her rosy cheeks, her ruby lips, like arrows pierced my breast
And the name she bore was flora, the lily of the west.
I courted lovely flora some pleasure for to find
But she turned unto another man whose sore distressed my mind
She robbed me of my liberty, deprived me of my rest
Then go, my lovely flora, the lily of the west.
Away down in yonder shady grove, a man of high degree
Conversin with my flora there, it seemed so strange to me
And the answer that she gave to him it sore did me oppress
I was betrayed by flora, the lily of the west.
I stepped up my rival, dagger in my hand
I seized him by the collar, and bodly made him stand
Seing mad by desperation I pierced him to the breast
All this for lovely flora, the lily of the west.
I had to stand my trial, I had to make my plea
They placed me in the witness box and then commenced on me
Although she swore my life away, deprived me of my rest
Still I love my faithless flora, the lily of the west.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lying Still
She came thru the door round my place
She was not the same
I reached out my hand to touch her face
She turned her head away
Her words flew in empty circles
Reasons unexplained
I saw that her thoughts were somewhere else
We made love anyway
Lying still in your arms
And the tears came down
She cried her pain
And like the rain that draws a cloud across the sun
The tears flow on
She cried the pain she felt inside
As night touched the sky with moonglow
She opened up her heart
The tides of emotions ebb and flow
Washing us apart
We talked thru the night in whispers
As the silent city lay
Reasons she gave cut deep and hard
The dawn broke angry grey
Lying still in your arms
Heartbeats cold
She cried my pain
Like thunder rolling thru an aching winter sky
Heartbeats cold
Her pain
Lying still in your arms
But the tears came down
She cried my pain
And like the rain that draws a cloud across the sun
The tears flow on
She cried the pain I felt inside
The future dissolves in the tears
The morning surrenders the years
How can you say our love wasnt real
When I can see how you feel
Another time
Another place
I wont cry for her
No more
The days go on
But the nights are long
Ill remember her
For sure
Still in your arms
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Shoulder I Need
Need I nothing but a shoulder to prop,
To place upon my head, the tears to shed.
The tormenting existence, worries of life,
The cruel pangs of the heart are resolved,
To crumble, crush my soul, my existence.
And at these moment of plight you reside,
Far away in the distant, remote world.
Need I nothing but a shoulder to prop,
To place upon my head, the tears to shed.
I am agonized for I had been deprived of,
Nourishing, sustaining food love yesterday,
I am pained for loneliness stings me today.
I stand at the dismal spot helpless, forlorn,
Neither there is any comfort to rehabilitate,
The drab, deserted land, valley of the heart;
Nor anyone has remedy of my misfortunes.
Need I nothing but a shoulder to prop,
To place upon my head, the tears to shed.
No one has time to listen to the tales of miseries,
No eye possesses tears to mourn on my doom,
Those whom I loved more than my soul, my life,
Have lined up in the long row of the enemies,
Those whom I regarded my own averted the eyes.
Need I nothing but a shoulder to prop,
To place upon my head, the tears to shed.
I have concealed in eyelids my unloosened tears,
Whenever I get a chance, I shall bring along,
The lustrous gems to scatter at your feet,
While kissing with lips, caressing with cheeks.
Oh! Sweet my mild mother at present,
Need I nothing but a shoulder to prop,
To place upon my head, the tears to shed.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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A Snow-White Lily
There was a snow-white lily
Grew by a cottage door:
Such a white and wonderful lily
Never was seen before.
The earth and the ether brought it
Sustenance, raiment, grace,
And the feet of the west wind sought it,
And smiled in its smiling face.
Tall were its leaves and slender,
Slender and tall its stem;
Purity, all its splendour,
Beauty, its diadem.
Still from the ground it sprouted,
Statelier year by year,
Till loveliness clung about it,
And was its atmosphere.
And the fame of this lily was bruited
'Mong men ever more and more;
They came, and they saw, and uprooted
Its life from the cottage door.
For they said, ``'Twere shame, 'twere pity,
It here should dwell half despised.
We must carry it off to the city,
Where lilies are loved and prized.''
The city was moved to wonder,
And burst into praise and song,
And the multitude parted asunder
To gaze on it borne along.
Along and aloft 'twas uplifted,
From palace to palace led;
Men vowed 'twas the lily most gifted
Of lilies living or dead.
And wisdom, and wealth, and power,
Bowed down to it more and more:-
Yet it never was quite the same flower
That bloomed by the cottage door.
For no longer the night-dews wrought it
Raiment, and food, and grace;
Nor the feet of the west wind sought it,
To dance in its dimpling face.
'Twas pursued by the frivolous rabble,
With poisonous lips and eyes;
They drenched it with prurient babble,
And fed it with fulsome lies.
Thus into the lily there entered
The taint of the tainted crew,
Till itself in itself grew centred,
And it flattery drank like dew.
Then tongues began words to bandy
As to whose might the lily be.
``'Tis mine,'' said the titled dandy;
Said the plutocrat, ``'tis for me.''
Thus over the lily they wrangled,
Making the beautiful base,
Till its purity seemed all mangled,
And its gracefulness half disgrace.
Next they who had first enthroned it,
And blatantly hymned its fame,
Now, curdling their smiles, disowned it,
And secretly schemed its shame.
The lily began to wither,
Since the world was no longer sweet;
And hands that had brought it thither,
Flung it into the street.
A sensitive soul and tender
The flung-away lily found:
He had seen it in hours of splendour,
So he lifted it from the ground.
He carried it back to the garden
Where in olden days it grew,
And he knelt, and prayed for it pardon
From the sun, and the breeze, and the dew.
Then the breeze, since it knows no malice,
And the sun that detesteth strife,
And the dew whose abode is the chalice,
Would have coaxed back the lily to life.
But the lily would not waken,
Nor ever will waken more;
And feet and fame have forsaken
Its place by the cottage door.
poem by Alfred Austin
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The Song Of The Standard
Maiden most beautiful, mother most bountiful, lady of lands,
Queen and republican, crowned of the centuries whose years are thy sands,
See for thy sake what we bring to thee, Italy, here in our hands.
This is the banner thy gonfalon, fair in the front of thy fight,
Red from the hearts that were pierced for thee, white as thy mountains are white,
Green as the spring of thy soul everlasting, whose life-blood is light.
Take to thy bosom thy banner, a fair bird fit for the nest,
Feathered for flight into sunrise or sunset, for eastward or west,
Fledged for the flight everlasting, but held yet warm to thy breast.
Gather it close to thee, song-bird or storm-bearer, eagle or dove,
Lift it to sunward, a beacon beneath to the beacon above,
Green as our hope in it, white as our faith in it, red as our love.
Thunder and splendour of lightning are hid in the folds of it furled;
Who shall unroll it but thou, as thy bolt to be handled and hurled,
Out of whose lips is the honey, whose bosom the milk of the world?
Out of thine hands hast thou fed us with pasture of colour and song;
Glory and beauty by birthright to thee as thy garments belong;
Out of thine hands thou shalt give us as surely deliverance from wrong.
Out of thine eyes thou hast shed on us love as a lamp in our night,
Wisdom a lodestar to ships, and remembrance a flame-coloured light;
Out of thine eyes thou shalt shew us as surely the sun-dawn of right.
Turn to us, speak to us, Italy, mother, but once and a word,
None shall not follow thee, none shall not serve thee, not one that has heard;
Twice hast thou spoken a message, and time is athirst for the third.
Kingdom and empire of peoples thou hadst, and thy lordship made one
North sea and south sea and east men and west men that look on the sun;
Spirit was in thee and counsel, when soul in the nations was none.
Banner and beacon thou wast to the centuries of storm-wind and foam,
Ages that clashed in the dark with each other, and years without home;
Empress and prophetess wast thou, and what wilt thou now be, O Rome?
Ah, by the faith and the hope and the love that have need of thee now,
Shines not thy face with the forethought of freedom, and burns not thy brow?
Who is against her but all men? and who is beside her but thou?
Art thou not better than all men? and where shall she turn but to thee?
Lo, not a breath, not a beam, not a beacon from midland to sea;
Freedom cries out for a sign among nations, and none will be free.
England in doubt of her, France in despair of her, all without heart -
Stand on her side in the vanward of ages, and strike on her part!
Strike but one stroke for the love of her love of thee, sweet that thou art!
Take in thy right hand thy banner, a strong staff fit for thine hand;
Forth at the light of it lifted shall foul things flock from the land;
Faster than stars from the sun shall they fly, being lighter than sand.
Green thing to green in the summer makes answer, and rose-tree to rose;
Lily by lily the year becomes perfect; and none of us knows
What thing is fairest of all things on earth as it brightens and blows.
This thing is fairest in all time of all things, in all time is best -
Freedom, that made thee, our mother, and suckled her sons at thy breast;
Take to thy bosom the nations, and there shall the world come to rest.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Harlie
Fold the little waxen hands
Lightly. Let your warmest tears
Speak regrets, but never fears,--
Heaven understands!
Let the sad heart, o'er the tomb,
Lift again and burst in bloom
Fragrant with a prayer as sweet
As the lily at your feet.
Bend and kiss the folded eyes--
They are only feigning sleep
While their truant glances peep
Into Paradise.
See, the face, though cold and white,
Holds a hint of some delight
E'en with Death, whose finger-tips
Rest upon the frozen lips.
When, within the years to come,
Vanished echoes live once more--
Pattering footsteps on the floor,
And the sounds of home,--
Let your arms in fancy fold
Little Harlie as of old--
As of old and as he waits
At the City's golden gates.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Must You Throw Dirt In My Face
What is it that brings you to this part of town
Curiosity, conscience or fate
I know its not love
Cause I once gave you love
And all you showed me was the gate
I got a feeling youve come back
To just rub it in
And to really put me in my place
Youve already but big old tears in my eyes
Must you throw dirt in my face
Must you keep telling me that youve got a new love
I dont need you to remind me
Must you keep telling me how I look so lonely
And my better days are behind me
Must you keep showing me pictures of him
Boasting of his warm embrace
Youve already put big old tears in my eyes
Must you throw dirt in my face
Youve already left me
And broken my heart
Told me how much you dont want me
Believe me Im happier when were apart
Why must you come back now to haunt me
Must you keep showing me pictures of him
Boasting of his warm embrace
Youve already put big old tears in my eyes
Must you throw dirt in my face
Youve already put big old tears in my eyes
Must you throw dirt in my face
Must you throw dirt in my face
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ten Feet Away
Ten Feet Away?
Diamond Rio
Alone at a corner table
She was watching me watching her
I was singing about an old flame burning
She was hanging onto every word
I was pouring out my feelings
She was pouring out the wine
Through the smoke and the beer
It was perfectly clear
That we were touching each other's minds
It was love ten feet away
Imagine her in my arms
With that look on her face
Lying somewhere in some shadowy place
It was love just ten feet away
I just knew my closing song would do it
I knew that I was heaven bound
I could tell she was moved
But before I was through
This stranger walked up and sat down
He was trying his best to impress her
But she never took her eyes off me
When he got up and left
I said to myself
"Whoa, what a night this will be"
It was love ten feet away
Imagine her in my arms
With that look on her face
Lying somewhere in some shadowy place
It was love just ten feet away
It was love ten feet away
Imagine her in my arms
With that look on her face
Lying somewhere in some shadowy place
It was love just ten feet away
Ten Feet Away Lyrics by Keith Whitley
song performed by by Diamond Rio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In a Lonesome Burial-Place
In a lonesome burial-place
Crouched a mourner white of face;
Wild her eyes--unheeding
Circling pomp of night and day--
Ever crying, "Well away,
Love lies a-bleeding!"
And her sighs were like a knell,
And her tears for ever fell,
With their warm rain feeding
That purpureal flower, alas!
Trailing prostrate in the grass,
Love lies a-bleeding.
Through the yews' black-tufted gloom
Crimson light fell on the tomb,
Funeral shadows breeding:
In the sky the sun's light shed
Dyed the earth one awful red--
Love lies a-bleeding.
Came grey mists, and blanching cloud
Bore one universal shroud;
Came the bowed moon leading,
From the infinite afar
Star that rumoured unto star--
Love that lies a-bleeding.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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The Cathedral tombs
THEY lie, with upraised hands, and feet
Stretched like dead feet that walk no more,
And stony masks oft human sweet,
As if the olden look each wore,
Familiar curves of lip and eye,
Were wrought by some fond memory.
All waiting: the new-coffined dead,
The handful of mere dust that lies
Sarcophagused in stone and lead
Under the weight of centuries:
Knight, cardinal, bishop, abbess mild,
With last week's buried year-old child.
After the tempest cometh peace,
After long travail sweet repose;
These folded palms, these feet that cease
From any motion, are but shows
Of--what? What rest? How rest they? Where?
The generations naught declare.
Dark grave, unto whose brink we come,
Drawn nearer by all nights and days;
Each after each, thy solemn gloom
We pierce with momentary gaze,
Then go, unwilling or content,
The way that all our fathers went.
Is there no voice or guiding hand
Arising from the awful void,
To say, 'Fear not the silent land;
Would He make aught to be destroyed?
Would He? or can He? What know we
Of Him who is Infinity?
Strong Love, which taught us human love,
Helped us to follow through all spheres
Some soul that did sweet dead lips move,
Lived in dear eyes in smiles and tears,
Love--once so near our flesh allied,
That 'Jesus wept' when Lazarus died;--
Eagle-eyed Faith that can see God,
In worlds without and heart within;
In sorrow by the smart o' the rod,
In guilt by the anguish of the sin;
In everything pure, holy, fair,
God saying to man's soul, 'I am there';--
These only, twin-archangels, stand
Above the abyss of common doom,
These only stretch the tender hand
To us descending to the tomb,
Thus making it a bed of rest
With spices and with odors drest.
So, like one weary and worn, who sinks
To sleep beneath long faithful eyes,
Who asks no word of love, but drinks
The silence which is paradise--
We only cry--'Keep angelward,
And give us good rest, O good Lord!'
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Don't Underestimate The Power Of...
Don’t Underestimate The Power
Of Your Embrace
The Power You Hold
In That Timeless Place
When My World Stops
At Your Wonderful Touch
Suspended In Rapture
With You, Giving So Much
… Strength and Comfort
And Tender Care
Don’t Underestimate
The Power There …
Don’t Underestimate The Power
Of Holding Hands
A Symbol-Bond, Saying,
‘Together, We Stand’
As We Share and Show
As One, We Plan
To Face The Future
With GOD … ‘We Can’
Don’t Underestimate The Power
Of Seeing Your Face
Eyes of Night-Skies
And Lips Of Berries’ Taste
Those Mystery Eyes
When They Meet With Mine
Passion Pours
As Our Lips, Wine and Dine …
Don’t Underestimate The Power
Of Our Hearts
Don’t Underestimate The Power
O Love’s Great Art
Tho’ The Heart, May Be Struck
With 10,000 Darts
Love, Has The Power To Make It
To Never Break Apart!
Don’t Underestimate The Power
Of Your Embrace
Don’t Underestimate The Power
Of Your Sweet Face
Don’t Underestimate The Power
Of Pure, Sweet Love
It, Is What, Holding Hands and Hearts
And Hopes Are Made Of
* * * *
(Don’t Underestimate …
The Power Of Even This …
Poetic Notes, Sealed With A Kiss
Words Spoken In Lover’s Bliss
A Whispered Wish, I Insist
Is Also, On The ‘Don’t Underestimate List …
So, Just Don’t Underestimate The Powers
Of A Love, So Strong and True, As Ours …)
Written & ©: 4/18/10
By: MoonBee
poem by MoonBee Canady
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In a coffin
Hands folded over the chest
she lies forever stretched out
as if death out of the blue holds her calm
and nothing will wake her up,
from the last sleep folding coldly round her
and strangely changed from princess to rotting dirt.
Hands folded over the chest
she lies forever stretched out.
with no fingers clenching hot around mine
and drawing me nearer,
no arms embracing me to her body
and I am totally alone
and stare at hands folded over her chest.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Now And Afterwards
TWO hands upon the breast,
And labor's done;
Two pale feet crossed in rest--
The race is won;
Two eyes with coin-weights shut,
And all tears cease;
Two lips where grief is mute,
Anger at peace':--
So pray we oftentimes, mourning our lot
God in his kindness answereth not.
'Two hands to work addrest
Aye for His praise;
Two feet that never rest
Walking His ways;
Two eyes that look above
Through all their tears;
Two lips still breathing love,
Not wrath, nor fear';
So pray we afterwards, low on our knees;
Pardon those erring prayers! Father, hear these!
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Hemorrhage
Hemorrhage (In My Hands)"
memories are just where you laid them
drag the waters 'till the depths give up their dead
what did you expect to find?
was there something you left behind?
don't you remember anything i said when i said
don't fall away, and leave me to myself
don't fall away and leave love bleeding
in my hands, in my hands again
leave love bleeding
in my hands, in my hands
love lies bleeding
oh hold me now i feel contagious
am i the only place that you've left to go
she cries her life is like
some movie black and white
dead actors faking lines
over and over and over again she cries
don't fall away, and leave me to myself
dont fall away, and leave love bleeding
in my hands, in my hands again
leave love bleeding
in my hands, in my hands
love lies bleeding
and i wanted
you turned away
you don't remember, but i do
you never even tried
don't fall away and leave me to myself
don't fall away and leave love bleeding
in my hands, in my hands again
leave love bleeding
in my hands, in my hands
love lies bleeding
song performed by by Fuel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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