En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Rose and the Cross

Out of the seething cauldron of my woes,
Where sweets and salt and bitterness I flung;
Where charmed music gathered from my tongue,
And where I chained strange archipelagoes
Of fallen stars; where fiery passion flows
A curious bitumen; where among
The glowing medley moved the tune unsung
Of perfect love: thence grew the Mystic Rose.

Its myriad petals of divided light;
Its leaves of the most radiant emerald;
Its heart of fire like rubies. At the sight
I lifted up my heart to God and called:
How shall I pluck this dream of my desire?
And lo! there shaped itself the Cross of Fire!

poem by Aleister Crowley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rubies

There are nine rubies in this Indian ring,
And every blood-red ruby is a part
Of the nine-petalled rose that is my heart,
The elaborate rose of my own fashioning.
Not out of any garden have I sought
The rose that is more brief than dawn or dew:
Stones of the flame and ice, I find in you
The image of the heart that I have wrought.
For you are cold and burn as though with fire,
For you are hard, yet veil soft depths below,
And each divided ruby seems to glow
With the brief passion of its own desire.
Rose of my heart, shall this too be the same?
For, when one light catches the wandering rays,
They rush together in one consuming blaze
Of indivisible and ecstatic flame.

poem by Arthur Symons
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Isolation.

He came by unknown ways, and stood
At evening in the fading wood,
Which when the glowing hills were gone
Would as in a dream murmur on,
As he beside his camp-fire's glare
Sat as if in a vision there,
And felt the silence like a thing
In which his soul was functioning.
He was a poet maybe who
The world's impression dreamy drew
From his own heart in that strange air,
Like one who had been everywhere
And with the stars and fire-lit trees
Did blend a thousand memories,
Making that speck of light his home
Until the dewy dawn should come.
He well had seemed a phantom at
Some mystic work as lone he sat
Within his ring of charméd light,
Who might step out into the night,
And in a mischief-making mood
Perturb the starry solitude
Until his fire burnt out, and then
Might creep back to his camp again,
And wrapped within his blanket be
A thought-deserted entity.

poem by Robert Crawford
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The BLACK ROSE

I've kissed the petal of the black rose as the morning dew blushed its black hue. I felt a passion beyond anything I knew, a flame, a fire, a burning desire for the black rose its petals to unfold, its beauty to behold. Your Love had me entangled upon your vine I dangled, Chained to the black rose petals I wrangled. Upon your bed in the early dew I found a colored rose petal, another heart that throbbed for you a flame that burned now an amber. Who too had thought you true and kissed the black rose petals blushing hue. Those barbed thorns upon your vine; so sharp; the lies, the deceit, the cheat; they cut, tear, bleed and don't prepare for the hurt they leave. Bold and daunting were you in your haunting. I wanted love but it was my soul you stole. In the ice cold blight of the winter night the black rose had froze. I cried, in the glistening icy snow; for the black rose had no heart to with stand the blight of that winter night. What it had was a cold heart with sharp thorns to enfold, the last cold kiss of death on the black rose shows I have no love to share or hold.

poem by Vanita Allgood
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Fire on Your Finger

Fire on your finger,
Fire in your eye,
Fire in your spirit,
Fire that won’t die.

Fire in the bare bones of being,
Fire to uphold what’s right,
Fire in the heart of darkness,
Fire to fuel Love’s light.

Fire to burn but not consume,
Fire to learn and not assume,
Fire to live and give living room,
Fire to love and sing her tune.

poem by Tony Jolley
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I'd Cross a Fire

I'd Cross a Fire

I'd Cross a Fire,
To move heaven and earth to keep you by my side!
I'd Cross a Fire,
To climb to a mountain top to shout I love you!
I'd Cross a Fire,
To swim the deepest ocean to see the smile on you!
I'd Cross a Fire,
To walk a thousand miles just to see you!
I'd Cross a Fire,
To keep your love forever in my heart
I'd Cross a Fire,
To keep us bonded together never apart!

poem by Sharon Kubeck
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Such Is The Passion

Such is the passion the want of desire
To burn in the heart with fingers of fire
Wet lashes wrapped up, in a sweet velvet rose
To follow your heart where ever it goes

Such is the passion the heart strings to pull
That the cup runneth over, with emotions so full
To send you to heaven, the stars and above
To make senses reel in the sweet dance of love

Such is the passion in the depths of ones soul
Infuses ones mind and the dreams in the role
Of a lovers sweet kisses, to imprint its mark
Of secret assignations alone in the dark

Such is the passion the fire inside
Shines forth from the eyes, with nowhere to hide
Yet the heart and the mind, will tumble and fall
If signals mistaken, will then wither and stall.

poem by Graham Jones
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little White Rose

Little white rose that I loved, I loved,
Roisin ban, Roisin ban!
Fair my bud as the morning's dawn.
I kissed my beautiful flower to bloom,
My heart grew glad for its rich perfume—
Little white rose that I loved!
Little white rose that I loved grew red,
Roisin rua, Roisin rua!
Passionate tears I wept for you.
Love is more sweet than the world's fame—
I dream you back in my heart the same,
Little white rose that I loved!
Little white rose that I loved grew black,
Roisin duv, Roisin duv!
So I knew not the heart of you.
Lost in the world's alluring fire,
I cry in the night for my heart's desire,
Little white rose that I loved!

poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
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Fire

Fire
Fire
You know theres a fire
You started a fire
Burnin in my heart
My desire caught fire baby
From just one tiny spark
Now its outta control
Spreadin thru my soul
Its been deliberately set
Gonna get even hotter yet
Burnin me up
You started a fire
A burnin in my heart
You started a fire
Burnin in my heart and soul
Baby with your love
I burst into flames
When I called out your name
And suddenly I was engulfed
Now my whole lifes on fire
Flames keep gettin higher and higher
In the feat of the night
I get the fever
But it feels all right
Burnin me up
You started a fire
Burnin in my heart
You started a fire
Burnin in my heart
Fire
Fire
You know theres a fire
You starteda fire baby
Burnin in my heart
Burnin in my soul
Burnin red hot coal
Now Im really hot
I just cant be stopped
Now its your turn to burn
Got to learn to walk on fire
Burnin me up
You started a fire
Burnin in my heart
You started a fire
Burnin in my heart

song performed by by Jefferson Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great Fires

Love is apart from all things.
Desire and excitement are nothing beside it.
It is not the body that finds love.
What leads us there is the body.
What is not love provokes it.
What is not love quenches it.
Love lays hold of everything we know.
The passions which are called love
also change everything to a newness
at first. Passion is clearly the path
but does not bring us to love.
It opens the castle of our spirit
so that we might find the love which is
a mystery hidden there.
Love is one of many great fires.
Passion is a fire made of many woods,
each of which gives off its special odor
so we can know the many kinds
that are not love. Passion is the paper
and twigs that kindle the flames
but cannot sustain them. Desire perishes
because it tries to be love.
Love is eaten away by appetite.
Love does not last, but it is different
from the passions that do not last.
Love lasts by not lasting.
Isaiah said each man walks in his own fire
for his sins. Love allows us to walk
in the sweet music of our particular heart.

poem by Jack Gilbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bitter Love

down from the branches fall the leaves,
a wanness comes on all the trees,
the summers done;
and into his last house in heaven,
now goes the sun.

sharp frost destroys the tender sprays,
birds are cold in these short days,
the Nightengale
is grieving that the fire of heaven
is now grown pale.

the swollen river rushes on
past meadows whence the green has gone,
the golden sun
has filled our world.snow falls by day
the nights are numb.

about me all the world is stark,
and i am burning; in my heart
there is a fire
a living flame in me, the maid
of my desire

your kisses, fuel my fire,
your tender touches, flaming higher.
the light of light
dwells in your eyes; divinity
is in your sight.

greek fire can be extingwished
by bitter wine; my fire is fed
on other meat.
yea, even the bitterness of love
is bitter sweet

poem by Brian Saling
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A Heart On Fire...

A Heart On Fire
Has Faith-Full Flames
It Rises Up
Like A Slave Unchained

A Heart Unlit
Is Not A Match
For A Heart On Fire
Is Hard To Catch

It Soars Bold
Believes Bright Things
A Heart On Fire
Has Halcyon Wings

A Heart On Fire
Burns Up Hate
Damage and Doubts
It Disintegrates

A Heart On Fire
Is A Force Reborn
It Is A HeartStar
It Is A HeartStorm

Hot and Glowing
Passionate and Pure
Fierce In The Fire
Of It’s Own Allure

A Heart On Fire
Has A Love Torchlight
It Blazes Beautifully
With All It’s Might

A Heart On Fire
Beats Any Damp Tears
Beats Hard and Brands
Every Flood-Fears

Pulsates, Compensates
Illuminates
and Every Frozen Feeling
It Incinerates

A Heart On Fire
You Must Not Forsake It
For Once It’s Yours
No One Can Take It

But A Heart On Fire
Must Not Love Relinquish
Or A Heart On Fire
Will Be Extinguished

Written & ©: 10/9/10

By: MoonBee

poem by MoonBee Canady
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Walking Through Fire

When you set a match to your heart
Fueling it with bitterness and doubt
Thats a blaze that once it starts
No amount of tears can put out
I know youre scared
But no ones spared
When you play with matches
Youve got me walking through fire
Youve got me walking through fire
Maybe youve been burned by lovers
Maybe youve been scarred by the pain
But baby Im not like the others
Drawing moths to a flame
Spite is like a spark
Crackling in the dark
Consuming all it catches
And youve got me walking through fire
Youve got me walking through fire to get to you
Youve got me walking through fire
(walking through fire)
Youve got me walking through fire
(walking through fire)
You can see the toll its taking
You can feel the faith its shaking
You can hear the heart its breaking now
Baby Ive burned by the fever
Ive been scorched by desire
But baby Im not your deceiver
Or your eloquent liar
Your jealous heart is tearing us apart
And turning love to ashes
When youve got me walking through fire
Youve got me walking through fire to get to you
Youve got me walking through fire
Youve got me walking through fire
Youve got me walking through fire
(walking through fire)
Youve got me walking through fire
(walking through fire)
As the flames shoot higher
Youve got me walking through fire
(walking through fire)
Walking

song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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First rose

A heart of youthful year was yearning,
Crying out the pain; the burning
Tears would e’er remain until
An answer from the man would see them die.

A sympathetic mirror blessed her –
Softened up the curves, caressed her
Skin to help regain a calm –
Assuage a heaving breast and blushing eye.

And through a struggling mind, a chiming:
Someone at the door; the timing
Perfect and exquisite in the
Reconciliation of her woes.

She took the oak to make the parting,
‘Here! ’ a presentation startling.
Drawing deep through radiant lips, she
Kissed her very dream: a crimson rose.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woman's Skepticism

love, desire, passion, fire, is all the qualities that you seek
for this is what will make you complete.

the man will normally have the passion and desire
while the woman has the love and the fire.
his desires could light a stack of timber
and leave your body totally limber.

it will grow so strong, that it turns into passion
and not caring about which feelings is in fashion.
he has to quench this irresistible urge
burning every part of his being
and this is all that he is seeing.

the fire spreads throughout his brain
leaving him totally insane.
he finally realizes that this ' must be love'.

and these feelings were all brought on by you
and to his heart, he must be true.

when you finally find a man who has all these qualities
you have become so skeptical
that these qualities you do not see.

open your eyes for i am here.
let me take away that fear.
my love has become embedded so deep in my soul
that my heart it did take hold.

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rose-Bush

There was a rose-bush in a garden growing,
Its tender leaves unfolding day by day;
The sun looked-on, and his down-going
Left it amid the starlit dusk of nights of May.

The dew-drop came and kissed it in the gloaming;
It gathered sweetness in the morning hours;
The bee beheld it as he went aroaming,
And thought, 'What honey will be hidden in its flowers!'

The light grew richer and the days grew long;
The May-time deepened into June;
The air was laden with the robin's song,
The light wind touched the leaves and set them atune.

And now a tiny bud appeared, and then another--
Bright promises of radiant flowers;
The breezes, whispering, told it to each other,
The rose-bush heard them in the gladsome hours.

New Hope awoke and thrilled in all it veins;
Life is so sweet that culminates in flowers!
It smiled and grew in misty summer rains,
And caught the freshness of the evening showers.

And oft the gardener came and stood beside;
He tended it alway with zealous care,
Watching lest any evil should betide,
Or blight creep o'er the leaves that grew so fair.

He crushed the buds and dropped them on the ground;
The rose-bush felt a chill in every vein;
It drooped, as if to hide each bitter wound--
This strange experience was its earliest thought of pain.

'Poor little plant,' the gardener thought,
Thou art too young, too young to know
That few buds unto flowers are brought,--
It is by pruning thou must grow.'

And still the summer smiled and shoned,
And other roses bloomed and died.
'Mine would more beauteously have blown,'
The little rose-bush sadly sighed.

Again the gardener sought his flowers,
Where he had watched his treasures blow:
The autumn blast has swept the bowers,
The winds and storms has laid them low!

Though sad of heart, the rose-bush still was green;
It lifted up its drooping head;
'The life that would have filled the buds may still be seen,
'Tis folded in its heart,' he said.

He stooped and took it from the ground
All trembling with its vague alarms,
And quick and tenderly he wrapped it round,
And kindly bore it in his arms.

And now where soft the sunshine flows,
Within a fair, immortal bower,
In all its fragrant beauty blooms the rose,
Its every bud grown into perfect flower.

poem by Anonymous Americas
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Woman Is Fire

There was a time when Woman went out of house, house of wax was left by Woman, Woman with waxen complexion I was, I was fiery Woman, Woman's body was a wax, Woman's eyes a flammable paraffin, what Woman's mouth was: withered red apples when Woman was fired out of house. House was invisible when Woman took a fire lamp and went to cheer in the smell of fallen apples, scattered around house, our moldy house. In the cold night Woman molded her body in a candle mould to revive old fire and saw Man that gathered apple stalks from moldy apple trees. It was a lonely man, Man that made a fire with waxed paper and moldering apple stalks. Man that sat outdoors on a moldy wooden bench by that fire and drunk applejack.
Woman saw Man, Man that felt Woman's looks through apple shaped embers bursting out of fire when wet apple leaves dried. Fire was a necessity for Man, for Man made his living being a fire-eater. The fire-eater wanted fire that gives birth, of fireworks, exploding fire. Man moved a long green apple stalk through fire to burn fire more. Man took a dropp and swallowed it. Man took another dropp and spat it into the fire. Suddenly Man realized what he needed and waxed on a piece of paper: fire must drink applejack for fire is becoming moldy, and he spat what he drunk mingled with apple-tasting spit. House is moldy too, Woman remembered and woman's heart became a rotten apple.. Fire was quenching as Woman closed her eyelids, apple peels, longing for house. House may be moldy, but house is not empty. Woman molded house the like, house full of candle lights and fireflies. Woman left Man's fire quenched and remained an apple scented candle. House melts easily and hardens quickly, Woman too. Woman abandoned Man not to be melt. That is old fire in Woman, as she stalks on apple waxed earth toward house.

poem by Afrodita Nikolova
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The Ice and the Fire

The ice and the fire
a strange surge of desire
rushes over me
the fire,
the ice.

I don't know what it is about it,
mabye it's the danger
that intriques me so.
Or mabye it's the crazy
feeling I get when I'm aroung you.

You are like the ice and the fire
with a strange surge of desire
the danger about it intrigues me so

glances at me
melt me into your eyes
the fire in them one minute
the ice in them the next

The danger of me falling into them
and burning,
or freezing,
but will you stop me before I do?
or will you catch me at the bottom?

The ice and the fire
with a strange surge of desire
the danger of it, intrigues me so.

Your heart is so unpredictable
it's really dangerous,
I can't tell what your reply will be
to my words

I'm scared
but the danger of being caught
or falling into your arms
at any minute
intrigues me so

The ice and the fire
a strange surge of desire
rushes over me
the fire,
the ice.....

poem by Clara Potter Soloman
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A Colourful Rose Flower!

Colourful rose flowers give a beautiful idea of pleasure;
Lips of rose petals kiss everyone’s heart with pleasure!
Red rose transports one to the world of love and beauty;
Power of rose among all flowers is undisputed forever!

Red rose is for love, beauty, courage and respect, know!
Yellow rose is for joy, friendship, delight and new bonds!
White rose stands for purity, innocence and humility ever;
Pink rose is gifted for appreciation and thanks for deeds.

Orange rose is for desire, enthusiasm and passion ever!
Lavender rose is linked to love at first sight for all lovers!
Blue rose is for healing, dreams and mystery to be realised
And is recently genetically engineered and produced nice!

Who does not love rose flowers of many colours we see now?
Even rose petals are not left from extracting oil to make perfume!

poem by Ramesh T A
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Love In Flames

Burning fire in my heart
Started with one small flame
Love we know has fallen apart
Scorching fire full of pain
Enraged flames burn my soul  
Fiery love meets and clashes
Wild fire out of control
Love I know is gone to ashes
 

poem by Brandon Delgado
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Failure

THE BOY went out from the ranges grim,
And the breath of the mountains went with him;
With a song in his heart and a smile on his face,
And a light in his eyes for a foremost place:
And the good green earth, and the salt sea spray,
And the soft blue skies, they were his that day;
And, like Eden, ringed with a golden fire—
Afar rose the Land of His Heart’s Desire.
The boy went down to the city’s strife,
And his face was lost in the surge of life;
But a Power that he did not understand
Had nerved his brain and his fighting hand.
And he strove and failed, and he rose and won—
And he failed again ere the fight was done;
But he battled on when the days were dire
To win to the Land of His Heart’s Desire.

And there, in the heart of the stress and din,
’Mid want and labour and wealth and sin,
The strong man struggled with shining eyes,
And forced a passage, and grasped the prize.
And he cried to the Power who had lent the fire:
“Lo! Fame is the Land of My Heart’s Desire!
Give the cup to me with a beaded brim.”
And the Power that he knew not gave it him.

But the air is keen on the Cliffs of Fame,
And the shafts that fly have a deadly aim!
With a foothold scarce, and a sleepless dread
For the gulfs below and the heights o’erhead,
He cried to the Power who had steeled his hand:
“I am outcast yet from my Fairyland!
For Fame is a land where no strength may tire,
But Love is the Land of My Heart’s Desire!”

Then there came to the man all his dream of Love,
With the brow of snow and the eyes of a dove,
With the glint of the sun on her wavy hair,
And her soul as pure as her face was fair.
Like a living lily to him she came,
Till his eyes were wet and his soul was flame,
And she called to him, with an outstretched hand,
And they entered into the Promised Land.

But there came a day when he asked his soul,
“Is this the land, and is this the goal?”
In his heart there lay what his lips denied—
The pang of a hunger unsatisfied.
“For Fame,” he said, “and for Love I wrought;
They are not the things that I should have sought:
’Tis to boundless power that my dreams aspire—
And Wealth is the Land of My Heart’s Desire!”

Then the Power that he did not understand
Gave him ships and houses and gold and land,
And the man’s power grew with each passing year;
But his thoughts were vexed with a sleepless fear,
And his hair grew gray with the iron strain
Of the dread of loss and the lust of gain,
And he bowed his head on his hands and said.
“All things are mine, but my heart is dead!”

And he thought of the boy from the ranges grim
With the breath of the mountains over him,
With a song in his heart and a smile on his face,
And a light in his eyes for a foremost place,
And the good green earth and the salt sea spray,
And the soft blue skies that were his that day,
When, like Eden, ringed with a golden fire,
Afar rose the Land of His Heart’s Desire.

Then clear on his startled ear there fell
A voice like the sound of a silver bell:
“To each is the work that he best can do,
But you turned from the work when it called to you.
And you sought instead for the vulgar praise,
For the lips of love, and for prosperous days.
And with all that the world can give you here,
You have lost the thing that you hold most dear.
For who hears the word that the Gods inspire—
In his work finds the Land of His Heart’s Desire.”

poem by George Essex Evans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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