A poets dream
Hippocrene (hĭ p'ə -kren‘) is a fountain on Mount Helicon, Greece, sacred to the Muses and regarded as a source of poetic inspiration.
Mnemosyne (nemoz'ini) is a titan who is the personification of remembrance. She is the mother of the nine muses: “All nine muses have a science or an art to protect. Cleo protects the stories of heroes, Urania astronomy, Calliope elegies, Melpomene the tragedies, Euterpe flute playing, Erato love poems, Tepsicore choir lyrics, Thalia the comedies and Polyhymnia dance and music.”
“The Muses love to sing and dance. They are superior in musical competitions and any one who dares to challenge them will always fall short, just as those who question their importance.”
In a dream I drink from fount Hippocrene.
The daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne
Encompass me while I quench. Nine muses
Guarding their arts from human abuses.
'I'm not here to challenge or to question;
Nor I seek material possessions.
My presence among you in this dreamy
State is caused by my love of poetry.
And you, Erato, muse of all love poems
I'm a sleepy poet asleep at home.
It's known by some you sing beautifully.
Would all you muses’ sing a song for me?
My thirst is quenched from draft of drinking cup.
Please! Please sing for me before I wake up.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Related quotes
The Nine Muses So Rapturous
The Lady Muses, nine thou be
Comely, wise, I see such beauty, thine
Daughters of Mnemosyne`s Shrine
Titaness of Memory, Daughters of Gaea
I, aspiring lyrist, thence
See erudite doxies, to accost
Inquire I, without them lost
They requite my homage with their prescience
Calliope, poetess of eloquence and epic
Clio, Muse of history
Erato, composer of lyric poetry
Euterpe, dearest Muse of lyre and music
Melpomene, writes of tragedy
Polyhymnia, sings Her songs so sacred
Terpsichore, of song and dance, well led
Thalia, playwright of the comedy, Urania of Astronomy
Oblations of Flowers, I besprent
To dear Muses, at Pieria born
In revery, Moonlight fades in morn
Yet ne`er The Wisdom, they hath sent
poem by Steve Trimmer
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Euterpe
Euterpe thy name is gladness
thou art one of the nine muses
daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne
beautiful goddesses it is thee
who govern the various arts
that stir ornament human life
quicken perceptions
deepen understanding
in quest mind mankind
goddesses associated
with god Apollo
music and healing
Euterpe thou speaks
to poets in lyric poetry
juggling flute music
are your favoured passions
goddess employed spinning
lines poetic in mine spun mind
rejoicing well of delight
in music giver of delight
river dance of sparkling light
See also the poem ‘Midnight Call’.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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I Believe in Muses
Nine to the Universe, the Nine Divine
I believe in Muses, Inspire me to dream sublime
Empress Omega, Betty Shabazz, Nzinga all of the Queens
I believe in Muses, Inspire me to achieve impossible dreams
Your sepia back, so strong and beautiful as obsidian
I believe in Muses, Inspire me to search where truth is hidden
Thighs, eyes, hips and lips, I desire you body and soul
I believe in Muses, Inspire me to an orgasmic loss of self control
Your beauty has inspired men to create, to build, to rise
I believe in Muses, Inspire me to be a King in your eyes
poem by Vince Rogers
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Ancora
Good God! They say you are risqué,
O canzonetti!
We who went out into the four A. M. of the world
Composing our albas,
We who shook off our dew with the rabbits,
We who have seen even Artemis a-binding her sandals,
Have we ever heard the like?
O mountains of Hellas!!
Gather about me, O Muses!
When we sat upon the granite brink in Helicon
Clothed in the tattered sunlight,
Muses with delicate shins,
O Muses with delectable knee-joints,
When we splashed and were splashed with
The lucid Castalian spray,
Had we ever such an epithet cast upon us!!
poem by Ezra Pound
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Those Images
WHAT if I bade you leave
The cavern of the mind?
There's better exercise
In the sunlight and wind.
I never bade you go
To Moscow or to Rome.
Renounce that drudgery,
Call the Muses home.
Seek those images
That constitute the wild,
The lion and the virgin,
The harlot and the child
Find in middle air
An eagle on the wing,
Recognise the five
That make the Muses sing.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Fragment. Welcome Joy, And Welcome Sorrow
'Under the flag
Of each his faction, they to battle bring
Their embryo atoms.' ~ Milton.
Welcome joy, and welcome sorrow,
Lethe's weed and Hermes' feather;
Come to-day, and come to-morrow,
I do love you both together!
I love to mark sad faces in fair weather;
And hear a merry laugh amid the thunder;
Fair and foul I love together.
Meadows sweet where flames are under,
And a giggle at a wonder;
Visage sage at pantomine;
Funeral, and steeple-chime;
Infant playing with a skull;
Morning fair, and shipwreck'd hull;
Nightshade with the woodbine kissing;
Serpents in red roses hissing;
Cleopatra regal-dress'd
With the aspic at her breast;
Dancing music, music sad,
Both together, sane and mad;
Muses bright and muses pale;
Sombre Saturn, Momus hale;--
Laugh and sigh, and laugh again;
Oh the sweetness of the pain!
Muses bright, and muses pale,
Bare your faces of the veil;
Let me see; and let me write
Of the day, and of the night -
Both together: - let me slake
All my thirst for sweet heart-ache!
Let my bower be of yew,
Interwreath'd with myrtles new;
Pines and lime-trees full in bloom,
And my couch a low grass-tomb.
poem by John Keats
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The Muse Of Life
Black and white horses,
Black and white cows,
All that muses is about life;
Cos', the wind blows to where it is directed.
Brown and white horses,
Brown and white cows,
The muse of life teaches us many tricks;
But, i've got rain and sunshine to crown the day.
The muse of a moose,
The bloom of a flower,
The blues of mankind to take the pieces;
The muse of life teaches many.
'The dish washer is not in the Bible'! !
Shouted the lone-ranger in need of love;
But, all that muses is about life.
Of cows and horses,
Of men and women,
Of Black and White Race to fill the earth;
Yes, all that muses is about life.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Love Gone Bad
Sing me a song of love...
Sing me a song so sad...
Sing me a song of remembrance...
Sing me a song of love gone bad;
Write the words and the music--
In your own flamboyant sytle-
Accent it with elaborate details--
Fill it with your obvious guile;
Give it a melody thats catchy...
You know-a phrase like refrain...
About loves greatest ecstacy...
About its agony and pain;
And then sing a song of love...
And sing a song so very sad...
Sing me a song to show that you remember...
And sing a song 'bout love gone bad;
Give it all of your verve and elan...
Spice it up with a bit of rhytym and blue...
Make it a song that everyone identifies with...
Make its words right and true;
Make it an anthem...
Or make it a ballad flowing free...
Make sure the words tell it all...
With a most haunting melody;
And then sing a song of love...
Sing me a song of so very sad...
Sing me a song of remembrance...
Sing me a song of love gone bad;
Song Lyrics
June 10,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
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Edward Kofi Louis
Every heart loves me like the singing birds and,
Deep down in my heart i am with them all like the sea of love;
With words of the muse that muses with my mind but,
Ashes are made up of mankind when we have to return home.
Rise up early and learn and teach others too to know and,
Download the facts of life like the romance from a glue of love.
Keep me informed when you are lost and i will show you the way for,
Over the hills and far away lay my sweet love to share with you;
Forgetting the past and the muse of love that you spent with me,
In the land of lovers and the romance that brought us together.
Lying naked next to you is the feelings on this love and,
Overcoming the negative aspects of life will lead us on always;
Until the sun sets you down to the west like the sweet of my love where,
I was born and virtually live with you all like the singing birds!
So, come for the surprise of love that muses with the flue of life.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Poems
My poems of love
I dedicate to Africa,
And my love in America.
I love you Naomi.
Do you love me too?
I love Poetry,
And I love Photography,
But I love you more.
Yesterday we were
Two birds in love,
Today, you dont even trust me
But tomorrow you might
Be marrying me.
Naomi, would you listen to the
Song of the Muses
Cupid's arrow is coming.
A pierce in your heart,
And you will see
Benjamin is sinking.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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Love Song (For Chidinma)
My love, please forgive me
For the days I made you cry
Cupid's arrow is sometimes painful
.
There are things we do
For the love we shared
But yours I know
Can never be compared.
.
I sing you a song my love
Let the Muses grace my lines
With overjoyed music.
Not even the Sirens could lure
Me from the charm of your smile.
Forever they shall find me lying by your side.
.
Oh, Chidinma! she has been my lover
Heaven knows how much I've missed her,
With Daedalus I'll make wings
And fly to be with her.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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Venus' Advice To The Muses
Thus to the Muses spoke the Cyprian Dame,
Adorn my altars, and revere my name.
My son shall else assume his potent darts;
Twang goes the bow; my girls have at your hearts.
The Muses answer'd Venus, We deride
The Vagrant's malice and his mother's pride:
Send him to nymphs who sleep on Ida's shade,
To the loose dance and wanton masquerade:
Our thoughts are settled, and intent our look
On the instructive verse and moral book.
On female idleness his power relies,
But when he finds us studying hard he flies.
poem by Matthew Prior
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The Epitaph Of Bion.
Dolefully sound, ye groves and Dorian waters,
Lament, ye rivers, our beloved Bion;
Mourn, all ye plants, and whisper low, ye forests;
Ye flowers, breathe sadly from your drooping petals;
Put on deep red, anemones and roses;
Wail thine own letters, hyacinth, and ai ai
Write double on thy leaves for our sweet poet.
Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses.
Ye nightingales, in the thick leafage sobbing,
Tell the Sicilian streams of Arethusa
Bion is dead, the shepherd--boy, and with him
Song too is dead, and all the Dorian music.
Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses.
Strymonian swans, sing sadly by your waters;
Warble a funeral elegy, in ditties
Such as he sung, the rival of your voices.
Tell the Œagrian Nymphs, and tell the damsels
That play in Thrace, Dead is the Dorian Orpheus.
Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses.
Our friend shall pipe beside his flocks no longer,
Nor sit and sing alone beneath the ilex;
But tunes oblivious strains to sullen Pluto.
Mute are the mountains, and the herd is straying
And will not feed, but wanders sadly lowing.
Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses.
Thine early death lamented great Apollo,
Pan wept to miss thy singing, all the Naiads
Wept in their woods, and turned to tears their fountains;
Echo is weeping that she must be silent
Thy lips no longer mocking. At thy parting
Trees shed their fruit, and all the flowers were blighted;
Milk failed the flocks, and in our hives the honey
Sunk mouldering in the wax; for no more sweetness
Shall there be, now thy honey--song hath perished.
Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses.
Not so beside the sea--beach wailed the dolphin,
Nor nightingale in shrubby rocks embowered,
Nor on the long green hills the piping swallow;
Not so for his Alcyone wept Ceÿx;
Nor Cerylus along the dark--blue waters;
Not so in Eastern dells the birds of Memnon
Wailed, flying round his tomb, the son of Ao,
As all lamented for the death of Bion.
Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses.
Shepherd, with thee the Muses' gifts have perished--
All beauty, and the joy of youthful lovers--
Sadly the Loves around thy tomb are weeping:
Cypris hath loved thee better than the memory
Of the last kiss she prest on pale Adonis.
Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses.
Thou tunefullest of streams, a second sorrow,
A second sorrow, Meles, hath befallen;
Thy Homer died, sweet prophet of the Muses;
And then, they say, thy glorious son thou wailest
Along thy shallows, and far into ocean
Carriedst the sound of grief: and now another
Must thou lament, and dry away for anguish.
Both were beloved by fountains: one was favoured
Of Hippocrene, and one of Arethusa;
One sung the lay of Tyndarus' fair daughter,
The son of Thetis, and the twin Atreidae;
But ours no wars, nor tears--the god of shepherds
And herdsmen sung he, as his flock he tended,
And bound the syrinx, and milked the sweet--breathed heifers,
And spake of Love, and was dear to Aphrodita.
Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses.
All countries mourn for thee, all ancient cities:
Not so mourned Ascra for her Shepherd--prophet;
Not so the castled Lesbos for Alcaeus;
Nor Ceos her old songster; not so Paros
Archilochus desires; and leaving Sappho
Thy legend sings the widowed Mitylene.
Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses.
Alas! when mallows perish in the gardens,
The crisp--green parsley, and the hardy anise,
They live again, and grow another summer;
But we, the great and strong, the sons of wisdom,
When first we die, unknown in earthy hollow
Sleep a long boundless sleep, that hath no waking.
Thou shalt be gathered to the dust in silence,
But sorry songsters live and sing for ever:
Well have the Muses ordered it, for better
Sing sweet and die, than be like them immortal.
Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses.
Poison hath touched thy mouth, a draught of poison;--
How came it to thy lips and was not sweetened?
What man so cruel that for thee could mingle,
Or offering it escaped uncharmed thy singing?
Begin the grief, begin Sicilian Muses.
Who now shall sound thy reed, beloved poet?
Who is so bold that to his lips will bear it?
To Pan I offer it; but Pan refuses
To wake its melody, lest he in playing
Should miss thy skill, and be adjudged thy second.
poem by Henry Alford
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The Consecrated Spot
WHEN in the dance of the Nymphs, in the moonlight so holy assembled,
Mingle the Graces, down from Olympus in secret descending,
Here doth the minstrel hide, and list to their numbers enthralling,
Here doth he watch their silent dances' mysterious measure.
All that is glorious in Heaven, and all that the earth in her beauty
Ever hath brought into life, the dreamer awake sees before him;
All he repeats to the Muses, and lest the gods should be anger'd,
How to tell of secrets discreetly, the Muses instruct him.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Sing a Song Mother!
Sing a song Mother, sing again
for your daughter now grown
but sing again that lullaby
for her to sleep a while
Sing a song Mother, sing
again and caress her
sing for her and sooth
away her worries.....
Sing a song Mother, with
love and care
sing again that melody
to warm her heart...
Sing a song Mother, hold her tight
and sing again from your love
sing for her she needs only you
and sing for her to smile..
Sing a song Mother, sing again
for your daughter
sing again until she sleeps
on your loving lap...
poem by Rema Prasanaa
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By Night The muses told me.
By night the muses snatched me away, in to their
loveliest
Abode where the gods grow fond of. But poor I am in word to describe
The heavenly refinement of this humble paradise.
Laying me helplessly on this sour grass and looking into the early skies as a lover
On the tour of painful love and yet whispering in my ears as my ears quiver for answers
My dear poet the fairest of them all, whose heart is as loveliest as a thousand bouquets of roses laid by the lover's bed.
Grow within your thought the learning of love and let the world be indeed a beautiful place for you.
Though I do not challenge your words great muses, whose radiate skin bring light in darkness, whose word flow from your mouth as you were present when the world came to being, my great and wonderful muses, whose song feels the heart of the faint lover and bring to tame the proudest heart of the lion on a mid day hunt.
Your beauty I as a mortal i dare not compare any beauty with.
How should I love, how should I give my heart and not get pain in return,
You trained my heart and though I am weak, spirit me away in to your humble blossom
And let me rest my head on your golden lap.
For my lips are so moisten with words from my heart, I am not in control of my self.
If I, a lover of a thousand women, how then should I, a god like me
In mortal flesh prevent my pleasures for over taking me.
Hence my muse answered,
my dear poet and god, who I bestow my graces upon, who
Are the hands I write my songs and poem with, do no despair, write what ever I tell you through your heart and understand my plight, but if still you do not comprehend go and listen to my dear god Ovid, it was him Venus thought the art of love
But oh my dear lord and love muses, your words grace my heart, but my mind is not at peace
Ovid my great and wonderful love teacher, who none compares not even Shakespeare with his renown wits and words' sit with open eyes and heart applaud when he delivers the speech of love. But still I am a lover of thousand women.
My dearest, whom I endowed with the riches of words, hear me, your heart though full of wonder love, it is with it I deliver the power of love through, learn to live with it my young poet.
Tell the loveliest women how you feel and if she does not comprehend, craft them into words on paper, go my young poet and tell the ladies of the world through your words how elegant they seem in there natural beauty, how beauty grows and fade. Tell them to grace there appearance with inner beauty for the goddess and muses shall be with you.
You are my handy work, the man of a thousand lover, forgive cupid for his jealous looks my dear poet live and enjoy your fruitful days as young, soon old age comes fleeting in a chariot.
poem by Samuel Donkor
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Fati
A new day is born on this love and,
Your sweet name is Fati;
For i will seek fro you always in the garden of love.
Try to overcome all things with love and,
Try to learn from the muse that muses;
For loving you is like my dream came true.
Fati, be very courageous on this sweet love;
And do come straight to me in your loneliness.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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In her name
In her name
~
I find her a-muse-ing
So delicate, beautiful and fair
That she plays upon my heart
A play of a thousand words
Like a butterfly serenade
A girl of dreamlike inspiration
Strikes a chord of verse
That my love is prone to song
To sing as softly sweet
As the clear ocean sky
For she is lit by the heavens
An array of stars above
So delicate, beautiful and fair
A girl who I am prone to say
A-muses me in such a way
I play with words in her name
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Dvd
Diving tino your love with the violet light that muses!
Veronica my love;
But, try to download the sweet muse of my love to enhance your status.
On the riverside,
Along with the muse of the land of your joy! !
But, try to take along your DVD;
For, this muse of love is all that you need.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Tin Soldiers
I'm... a little tin soldier that wants to jump into the fight
Yes you, your a look in your eye, a dream passing by in the sky
Now I don't understand
But all I need is treat me like a man
'Cause I ain't got no child, take me like I am
I've got to know I'm in love with you
Do anything that you want me to
Sing any song that you want me to
Sing it to you
All I need, is your whispered "hello", smiles melting from your window
Your eyes, are deeper than time, sailing on that with the breeze
So now I've lost my way
I need her to show me things to say
Give me your love, before love fades away
I've got to know I'm in love with you
Do anything that you want me to
Sing any song that you want me to
Sing it to you
I don't need no... compensation
And I just got to beg you, listen
I just got to beg you
I've got to know I'm in love with you
Do anything that you want me to
Sing any song that you want me to
Sing it to you (watch out)
I just want some reaction
Someone to give me satisfaction
All I've gotta to do is stay next to you
Some reaction
A little bit of satisfaction
All I'm gonna do is get next to you
I've got to know I'm in love with you
Do anything that you want me to
Sing any song that you want me to
Sing it to you
I've got to know I'm in love with you (yes I am)
Do anything that you want me to (I'm gonna sing her a song)
Sing any song that you want me to (right on ta you)
Sing it to you (Yeah yeah)
I've got to know I'm in love with you (yes I do)
Do anything that you want me to
Sing any song that you want me to
Sing it to you
song performed by by Quiet Riot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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