Ralph to Mary
Love, you have led me to the strand,
Here, where the stilly, sunset sea,
Ever receding silently,
Lays bare a shining stretch of sand;
Which, as we tread, in waving line,
Sinks softly 'neath our moving feet;
And looking down our glances meet,
Two mirrored figures--yours and mine.
To-night you found me sad, alone,
Amid the noisy, empty books
And drew me forth with those sweet looks,
And gentle ways which are your own.
The glory of the setting sun
Has sway'd and softened all my mood;
This wayward heart you understood,
Dear love, as you have always done.
Have you forgot the poet wild,
Who sang rebellious songs and hurl'd
His fierce anathemas at 'the world,'
Which shrugg'd its shoulders, pass'd and smil'd?
Who fled in wrath to distant lands,
And sitting, thron'd upon a steep,
Made music to the mighty deep,
And thought, 'Perhaps it understands.'
Who back return'd, a wanderer drear,
Urged by the spirit's restless pain,
Sang his wild melodies in vain--
Sang them to ears that would not hear. . .
A weary, lonely thing he flies,
His soul's fire with soul's hunger quell'd,
Till, sudden turning, he beheld
His meaning--mirrored in your eyes! . . .
Ah, Love, since then have passed away
Long years ; some things are chang'd on earth;
Men say that poet had his worth,
And twine for him the tardy bay.
What care I, so that hand in hand,
And heart in heart we pace the shore?
My heart desireth nothing more,
We understand,--we understand.
Related quotes
The Three Songs
The poet sang of a battle-field
Where doughty deeds were done,
Where stout blows rang on helm and shield
And a kingdom's fate was spun
With the scarlet thread of victory,
And honor from death's grim revelry
Like a flame-red flower was won!
So bravely he sang that all who heard
With the sting of the fight and the triumph were stirred,
And they cried, "Let us blazon his name on high,
He has sung a song that will never die!"
Again, full throated, he sang of fame
And ambition's honeyed lure,
Of the chaplet that garlands a mighty name,
Till his listeners fired with the god-like flame
To do, to dare, to endure!
The thirsty lips of the world were fain
The cup of glamor he vaunted to drain,
And the people murmured as he went by,
"He has sung a song that will never die !"
And once more he sang, all low and apart,
A song of the love that was born in his heart:
Thinking to voice in unfettered strain
Its sweet delight and its sweeter pain;
Nothing he cared what the throngs might say
Who passed him unheeding from day to day,
For he only longed with his melodies
The soul of the one beloved to please.
The song of war that he sang is as naught,
For the field and its heroes are long forgot,
And the song he sang of fame and power
Was never remembered beyond its hour!
Only to-day his name is known
By the song he sang apart and alone,
And the great world pauses with joy to hear
The notes that were strung for a lover's ear.
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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Melody
Melody
By: Adam M. Snow
O' Melody, names like the angel's song;
music swaying around thine love
but of thy love my days be long;
O' my Melody, sang my song.
I long to hear thy voice, thy angelic voice
soothes away my hearts desire.
But it be that of love's choice
echoing upon thy voice.
Can thee forever love a lonely man such as I,
or do thee live on knowing not that of love,
or do thee walk passed and curse myself to die?
This feeling, this love O' Melody I cannot deny.
Let me hear thy choir of thy song;
a voice so deep calming the soul.
Let thy voice and passion be strong;
O' my Melody, sang my song.
Sing; let thy voice be heard across the Earth.
Let it pierce thy shadows.
Let the world see a new found birth
and the wonders its worth.
O' Melody, a song I longed after
to cleanse my immortal soul,
to feel the joy and laughter
and be with you hereafter.
O' Melody, names like the angel's song;
music swaying around thine love
but of thy love my days be long;
O' my Melody, sang my song.
O' Melody, play thy music for I love thee.
Thy lyrics be true thy heart,
Thy song be thy key
to set all souls free.
Let me hear thy choir of thy song;
a voice so deep calming the soul.
Let thy voice and passion be strong;
O' my Melody, sang my song.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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Sonnets XLIX: L: LI: LII: Willowwood
I
I sat with Love upon a woodside well,
Leaning across the water, I and he;
Nor ever did he speak nor looked at me,
But touched his lute wherein was audible
The certain secret thing he had to tell:
Only our mirrored eyes met silently
In the low wave; and that sound came to be
The passionate voice I knew; and my tears fell.
And at their fall, his eyes beneath grew hers;
And with his foot and with his wing-feathers
He swept the spring that watered my heart's drouth.
Then the dark ripples spread to waving hair,
And as I stooped, her own lips rising there
Bubbled with brimming kisses at my mouth.
II
And now Love sang: but his was such a song,
So meshed with half-remembrance hard to free,
As souls disused in death's sterility
May sing when the new birthday tarries long.
And I was made aware of a dumb throng
That stood aloof, one form by every tree,
All mournful forms, for each was I or she,
The shades of those our days that had no tongue.
They looked on us, and knew us and were known;
While fast together, alive from the abyss,
Clung the soul-wrung implacable close kiss;
And pity of self through all made broken moan
Which said “For once, for once, for once alone!”
And still Love sang, and what he sang was this:—
III
“O Ye, all ye that walk in Willowwood,
That walk with hollow faces burning white;
What fathom-depth of soul-struck widowhood,
What long, what longer hours, one lifelong night,
Ere ye again, who so in vain have wooed
Your last hope lost, who so in vain invite
Your lips to that their unforgotten food,
Ere ye, ere ye again shall see the light!
Alas! the bitter banks in Willowwood,
With tear-spurge wan, with blood-wort burning red:
Alas! if ever such a pillow could
Steep deep the soul in sleep till she were dead,—
Better all life forget her than this thing,
That Willowwood should hold her wandering!”
IV
So sang he: and as meeting rose and rose
Together cling through the wind's wellaway
Nor change at once, yet near the end of day
The leaves drop loosened where the heart-stain glows,—
So when the song died did the kiss unclose;
And her face fell back drowned, and was as grey
As its grey eyes; and if it ever may
Meet mine again I know not if Love knows.
Only I know that I leaned low and drank
A long draught from the water where she sank,
Her breath and all her tears and all her soul:
And as I leaned, I know I felt Love's face
Pressed on my neck with moan of pity and grace,
Till both our heads were in his aureole.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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What If
(diane warren)
Sometimes I dont understand.
Feels like Im living in a world gone mad.
Look around, all around its just the same.
People just rush everywhere.
No time to ever take the time to care.
Were the ones.
Were the losers in this game.
So where is the tenderness we scarifice for progress.
And where is the love we need.
You know it makes me wonder.
What if everybody, what if everybody reached out with just one hand (reached with just one hand).
What if everybody, what if everybody sang out with just one voice (sang with just one voice).
Maybe we could change things.
What if everybody, what if everybody cared with just one heart (cared with their own heart).
What if everybody, what if everybody tried to light one spark (tried to light one spark).
Maybe we could change things somehow.
Somehow its all up to us.
Gotta take this world, make it a world of love.
Gotta do it now.
Gotta find a way to make a change somehow.
Theres gotta be a way for us to make it better.
What if everybody, what if everybody reached out with just one hand (reached with just one hand).
What if everybody, what if everybody sang out with just one voice (sang with just one voice).
Maybe we could change things.
What if everybody, what if everybody cared with just one heart (cared with their own heart).
What if everybody, what if everybody tried to light one spark (tried to light one spark).
Maybe we could change things somehow.
Here in our hearts.
Oh the answer is there.
If we only would look inside them.
We can make it better, we can make it better...if we try together.
What if everybody, what if everybody reached out with just one hand (reached with just one hand).
What if everybody, what if everybody sang out with just one voice (sang with just one voice).
Maybe we could change things.
What if everybody, what if everybody cared with just one heart (cared with their own heart).
What if everybody, what if everybody tried to light one spark (tried to light one spark).
Maybe we could change things somehow
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Spirit Of Wine
The Spirit of Wine
Sang in my glass, and I listened
With love to his odorous music,
His flushed and magnificent song.
- 'I am health, I am heart, I am life!
For I give for the asking
The fire of my father, the Sun,
And the strength of my mother, the Earth.
Inspiration in essence,
I am wisdom and wit to the wise,
His visible muse to the poet,
The soul of desire to the lover,
The genius of laughter to all.
'Come, lean on me, ye that are weary!
Rise, ye faint-hearted and doubting!
Haste, ye that lag by the way!
I am Pride, the consoler;
Valour and Hope are my henchmen;
I am the Angel of Rest.
'I am life, I am wealth, I am fame:
For I captain an army
Of shining and generous dreams;
And mine, too, all mine, are the keys
Of that secret spiritual shrine,
Where, his work-a-day soul put by,
Shut in with his saint of saints -
With his radiant and conquering self -
Man worships, and talks, and is glad.
'Come, sit with me, ye that are lovely,
Ye that are paid with disdain,
Ye that are chained and would soar!
I am beauty and love;
I am friendship, the comforter;
I am that which forgives and forgets.' -
The Spirit of Wine
Sang in my heart, and I triumphed
In the savour and scent of his music,
His magnetic and mastering song.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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My heart has told your heart
My heart has told your heart,
I have fallen in love with you
My life, my love, trust me
As restless as I am, make yourself restless
Understand my heartbeat, please love me also
My heart has told your heart
I have fallen in love with you
If you say so, I'll tear down the moon and stars
This wind, this earth, I'll turn them back
What sight is in my eyes, what experience is this?
The river is close, the desert is far, why is there still thirst
I'll leave the world at your feet, meet my eyes
As restless as I am, make yourself restless
Understand my heartbeat, please love me also
My heart has told your heart
I have fallen in love with you
In my memories, in my dreams you come everyday
Why do you afflict me this way, my life?
From your heart, from your way I won't leave like that
This is a vow, this is my promise, 'll come back
I'll steal you from the world, just wait a little
As restless as I am, make yourself restless
Understand my heartbeat, please love me also
My heart has told your heart
I have fallen in love with you
My life, my love, trust me
As restless as I am, make yourself restless
Understand my heartbeat, please love me also
poem by Jid Thobhani
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The Hills Of Youth
Once, on the far blue hills,
Alone with the pine and the cloud, in those high still places;
Alone with a whisper of ferns and a chuckle of rills,
And the peat-brown pools that mirrored the angels’ faces,
Pools that mirrored the wood-pigeon’s grey-blue feather,
And all my thistledown dreams as they drifted along;
Once, oh, once, on the hills, thro’ the red-bloomed heather
I followed an elfin song.
Once, by the wellsprings of joy,
In the glens of the hart’s-tongue fern, where the brooks came leaping
Over the rocks, like a scrambling bare-foot boy
That never had heard of a world grown old with weeping;
Once, thro’ the golden gorse (do the echoes linger
In Paradise woods, where the foam of the may runs wild?)
I followed the flute of a light-foot elfin singer,
A god with the eyes of a child.
Once, he sang to me there,
From a crag on a thyme-clad height where the dew still glistened;
He sang like the spirit of Spring in that dawn-flushed air,
While the angels opened their doors and the whole sky listened:
He sang like the soul of a rainbow, if heaven could hear it,
Beating to heaven, on wings that were April’s own;
A song too happy and brave for the heart to bear it,
Had the heart of the hearer known.
Once, ah, once, no more,
The hush and the rapture of youth in those holy places,
The stainless height, the hearts that sing and adore
Till the sky breaks out into flower with the angels’ faces!
Once, in the dawn, they were mine; but the noon bereft me.
At midnight now, in an ebb of the loud world’s roar,
I catch but a broken stave of the songs that left me
On hills that are mine no more.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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Live
I laughed until I cried
I cried until I laughed
My heart loved until it broke
My heart hated until it learned to love
again
Soft breeze caressed my hair
Blue sea washed my feet
I swam shallow for fear of everything
I swam in the deep end for fear of
nothing
A warm hand held mine
Another heart beat mine up until a
single rhythm was formed
One day the hand left
And another held my hand again
And my heart got one more beating
From stinginess I learned giving
I gave till I had no more to give
Seeds came to me.
I passed them on as blossoms.
Blossoms came to me.
I passed them on as flowers.
My smile did compete with the sun's
shine
My frown did compete with the moon's gloom
I sang and taught music a lesson or two.
I wrote till my soul bled
I injected my passion in the earth's vein
My knowledge spoke
My wisdom listened
My folly couldn't care less
I sinned and sought forgiveness
Got lost and sought redemption
I was pushed against ropes
I pushed back
Though kicked when down
I picked others when they were down.
Betrayed. Forgave. Moved on.
Creativity and I were lovers
Ingenuity and I, best friends.
Failure knew me by name
Success found me later.
I walked with bare feet on God's green
carpet
And enjoyed nature's scenery
The earth knew I was here
The world knew me.
I loved watching the sun set
Until today, when my sun did set...
Car honks.
Tires screech.
I'm gone.
Shudda listened to mama
'Left, right, then left again'.
All's quiet.
Hmmmn.
All's really quiet.
The earth is warm next to my ears
Insects noise is all that I hear
A magic trick made my world disappear
Oh, oh. Oh, my God...
I feel like I am watching everything from space
And any minute I'll hear my name and I'll wake
A minute comes, a minute goes.
I do not hear my name
I do not wake
Is this it? .
This is it.
I crossed the finish line
It's over.
My life's over.
Life is short.
A dropp of water in eternity's ocean
As you swim in this deep sea called life
And sometimes it's seems like you're
drowning
Do come up for air
Take a deep breath
Take in all that you could want
Don't coast. Don't float.
For it is not the length of life that counts
But it's depth
Not the years in the life
But the life in the years
Swim in the deep end
Live.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Afterwards
NOW that our pathways sever here,
And mine slopes down across the night,
Whence I shall see you burning clear
A beacon on the mountain-height—
Now that our pathways sever here,
I have no kiss, I have no tear.
Your eyes my lonely world have lit
With sunset peace that lingers yet,
And on my gladdened heart is writ
No shade of blame, and no regret.
Your eyes my sombre world have lit,
And made a new world out of it.
Your soul is woven, strand and strand,
With mine across the woof of Time;
Your fingers trickle from my hand—
Yet where you go my soul shall climb.
Our souls are woven, strand with strand;
Think you the pattern was not planned?
Love finds a solace in regret—
With the rich past I am content
You dare not ask me to forget;
With memories I am opulent.
Love finds this solace in regret:
What solace if we had not met?
The richest guerdon of this earth
You gave me like a flower to wear;
My heart is dowered beyond dearth,
A treasure through the dark I bear—
The richest guerdon of this earth,
The knowledge of one woman's worth.
The flower of your dear love is dead;
But Springs come ever with the years:
I asked you for your heart: instead
You gave me more, you gave your tears!
The blossom of your love is dead;
But all its fragrance is not fled.
Our ways lie solitary, long,
And we have done with halt and rest;
On to the goal the others throng,
No longer may we fare abreast.
Our ways lie solitary, long,
Yet through my sorrow laughs this song:—
Our pathways only now begin
To close the circle in, complete,
Until our purpose we shall win,
Until again, far off, we meet.
Our pathways only now begin
To narrow, narrow, narrow in!
The race is ready to be run,
But clear and certain is our quest;
Your heart the prize that will be won.
This dallying was but a test
To try us ere the race be run.
Now—now the journey is begun!
Chance is not chance—but very wise.
I might have missed you blindly. Lo,
The countersign! Without disguise,
The soul I seek at last I know.
Chance is not chance—but very wise.
We part, that we may recognise.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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Premonition
DEAR heart, good-night!
Nay, list awhile that sweet voice singing
When the world is all so bright,
And the sound of song sets the heart a-ringing,
Oh, love, it is not right—
Not then to say, 'Good-night.'
Dear heart, good-night!
The late winds in the lake weeds shiver,
And the spray flies cold and white.
And the voice that sings gives a telltale quiver —
'Ah, yes, the world is bright,
But, dearest heart, good-night!'
Dear heart, good-night!
And do not longer seek to hold me!
For my soul is in affright
As the fearful glooms in their pall enfold me.
See him who sang how white
And still; so, dear, good-night.
Dear heart, good-night!
Thy hand I'll press no more forever,
And mine eyes shall lose the light;
For the great white wraith by the winding river
Shall check my steps with might.
So, dear, good-night, good-night!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Poet's Song
I HID in the world and sang,
And I sang so loud and long
That all the ages rang
With the music of my song.
I sang of the earth and sky,
5
I sang of the whispering seas,
I sang of the mountains high,
And I sang of the flowers and trees;
I sang of the early spring,
I sang of the dawning day,
10
I sang, for I had to sing
As the young lambs have to play;
Till heaven and earth were ringing,
And all the people heard,
And they said, "We love his singing,
15
For his song is the song of the bird."
poem by Frederick George Scott
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Dedication To His Love
SWEETEST, in desperate hours
Of clouds and lightning and rain,
You came like a vision of flowers
And summer and song once again:
You came, and I could not receive you,
Seared in my flesh, in my sight.
I heedlessly turned back to leave you;
We passed on into the night.
(Heart, soul and all, sweet, never to sever, Love me for ever!)
Dearest, in hours of twilight,
Terrible, silent and lone,
When the light, long sought for as my light
And found, for ever seemed gone —
When the hope of the love-dream of boyhood
Passed sad with unknowing rebuff,
With your passionate patience and joyhood
You came, O my Priestess of Love!
(Heart, soul and all, dear, never to sever, Love me for ever!)
With your lips to mine deathly-reposing,
You kissed back the blood and the sighs:
You lit up my tired eyes unclosing
With the light of your beautiful eyes.
You held me close-pressed to your bosom,
Your heart to my heart, beating strong,
In mine eyes put your life like a blossom,
Put my love in your lips like a song!
(Heart, soul and all, sweet, never to sever,
Love me for ever!)
Dearest, of my heart-blood's Evangel
I hail you Queen, and of me:
Sweetest, I revere you Archangel
Of the better time that shall be.
So to these Songs, for my love's sake,
As Priestess of Love must you stand,
And, for the great Truth above's sake,
God's seraph with his sword in your hand!
(Heart, soul and all, dear, never to sever,
Love me for ever!)
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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Blues In Minor Key
'Twas a lovely night in gay Paree
The stagelight was beating on him and me
He took my heart and spoke so well
And told me things no one else could tell
But far away in a barren tree
The birds sang the blues in a minor key
He was a lonely tramp in the world of rhyme
With words that caught me just in time
I gave him my body I gave him my soul
In front of the stage I played my role
But far away in a barren tree
The birds sang the blues in a minor key
The chimes of freedom rang that night
And stars in heaven were shining bright
The songs he sang were like ice and fire
Leading me through the bush and brier
But far away in a barren tree
The birds sang the blues in a minor key
Behind his mask and behind his name
He left the stage with nothin' to claim
Like a shooting star in the empty skies
Our love was done without any ties
And far away in a barren tree
The birds sang the blues in a minor key
And far away in a barren tree
The birds sang the blues in a minor key....
Copyright © 2011 Göran Gustafsson. All rights reserved
poem by Göran Gustafsson
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The Lost Bells
Year after year the artist wrought
With earnest, loving care,
The music flooding all his soul
To pour upon the air.
For this no metal was too rare,
He counted not the cost;
Nor deemed the years in which he toiled
As labor vainly lost.
When morning flushed with crimson light
The golden gates of day,
He longed to fill the air with chimes
Sweet as a matin's lay.
And when the sun was sinking low
Within the distant West,
He gladly heard the bells he wrought
Herald the hour of rest.
The music of a thousand harps
Could never be so dear
As when those solemn chants and thrills
Fell on his list'ning ear.
He poured his soul into their chimes,
And felt his toil repaid;
He called them children of his soul,
His home a'near them made.
But evil days came on apace,
War spread his banner wide,
And from his village snatched away
The artist's love and pride.
At dewy morn and stilly eve
The chimes no more he heard;
With dull and restless agony
His spirit's depths was stirred.
A weary longing filled his soul,
It bound him like a spell;
He left his home to seek the chimes --
The chimes he loved so well.
Where lofty fanes in grandeur rose,
Upon his ear there fell
No music like the long lost chimes
Of his beloved bell.
And thus he wandered year by year.
Touched by the hand of time,
Seeking to hear with anxious heart
Each well remembered chime.
And to that worn and weary heart
There came a glad surcease:
He heard again the dear old chimes,
And smiled and uttered peace.
"The chimes! the chimes!" the old man cried,
"I hear their tones at last;"
A sudden rapture filled his heart,
And all his cares were past.
Yes, peace had come with death's sweet calm,
His journeying was o'er,
The weary, restless wanderer
Had reached the restful shore.
It may be that he met again,
Enfolded in the air,
The dear old chimes beside the gates
Where all is bright and fair;
That he who crossed and bowed his head
When Angelus was sung
In clearer light touched golden harps
By angel fingers strung.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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The Girl Who Tamed A Poets Heart
Those words which screamed out
From a heart into a silent world
Those passionate dreams once known
Of a love which seem to be a stranger
The lyrics and the verse which sang
To love, to a love they longed to find
All fell silent, all slept sound
She came from such silence
Full beauty body, heart and mind
Her words touched and soothed
The mind of a poet like never before
The wild tempest which once reigned
The heart and the imagination
Each word which built their world
Now spoke softly to a love they knew
Now whispered gently her name
She came as though called
To answer each prayer and wish
She took the heart in her hands
And cradled it in a kiss
She tamed its wild passion
And heard it sing anew
To the girl who tamed a poets heart
I shall forever love you
poem by Matthew Holloway
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A Poet of One Mood
A poet of one mood in all my lays,
Ranging all life to sing one only love,
Like a west wind across the world I move,
Sweeping my harp of floods mine own wild ways.
The countries change, but not the west-wind days
Which are my songs. My soft skies shine above,
And on all seas the colours of a dove,
And on all fields a flash of silver greys.
I made the whole world answer to my art
And sweet monotonous meanings. In your ears
I change not ever, bearing, for my part,
One thought that is the treasure of my years-
A small cloud full of rain upon my heart
And in mine arms, clasped, like a child in tears.
poem by Alice Meynell
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Amaranth
ONCE a poet—long ago—
Wrote a song as void of art
As the songs that children know,
And as pure as a child’s heart.
With a sigh he threw it down,
Saying, “This will never shed
Any glory or renown
On my name when I am dead.
“I will sing a lordly song
Men shall hear, when I am gone,
Through the years sound clear and strong
As a golden clarion.”
So this lordly song he sang
That would gain him deathless fame—
When the death-knell o’er him rang
No man even knew its name.
Ay, and when his way he found
To the place of singing souls,
And beheld their bright heads crowned
With song-woven aureoles,
He stood shame-faced in the throng,
For his brow of wreath was bare,
And, alas! his lordly song
Sere had grown in that sweet air;
Then, all sudden, a divine
Light fell on him from afar,
And he felt the child-song shine
On his forehead like a star.
So for ever. Each and all
Songs of passion or of mirth
That are not heart-pure shall fall
As a sky-lark’s—to the earth;
But the soul’s song has no bounds—
Like the voice of Israfel,
From the heaven of heavens it sounds
To the very hell of hell.
poem by Victor James Daley
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The Lesson
MY cot was down by a cypress grove,
And I sat by my window the whole night long,
And heard well up from the deep dark wood
A mocking-bird's passionate song.
And I thought of myself so sad and lone,
And my life's cold winter that knew no spring;
Of my mind so weary and sick and wild,
Of my heart too sad to sing.
But e'en as I listened the mock-bird's song,
A thought stole into my saddened heart,
And I said, 'I can cheer some other soul
By a carol's simple art.'
For oft from the darkness of hearts and lives
Come songs that brim with joy and light,
As out of the gloom of the cypress grove
The mocking-bird sings at night.
So I sang a lay for a brother's ear
In a strain to soothe his bleeding heart,
And he smiled at the sound of my voice and lyre,
Though mine was a feeble art.
But at his smile I smiled in turn,
And into my soul there came a ray:
In trying to soothe another's woes
Mine own had passed away.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Questions
Will you be there when my world falls apart?
Will you be there to catch the crumbling of my broken heart?
Does the world keep turning when I’m gone?
Can god hear me screaming when I’m alone?
Can you die from a broken heart?
I’ll soon find out, because I’m falling apart
What happened to my days of sunshine?
The days when I thought everything was fine.
Does anyone care, about little old me
I think death is the only thing to set me free
I feel helpless and hopeless in a world I don’t understand
Why won’t anyone reach out and give me a hand
All the bad things that happen do I deserve?
God knows all the bad things, nothing’s on reserve
Does god hold wrong things I do against me?
If so than its straight to hell for me
Will the world keep turning when I die?
Will it keep on turning if I tell one more lie?
Erase the hate, the hurt and the pain
Bring back the sunshine and take away the rain
Does anyone care what happens to me?
When I die, it’s just something that will be
I feel like a burden to my family and friends
I wonder what will happen when this life ends
Is there only one way to love?
Can love be something else than just love?
It keeps me awake throughout the night,
Because it seems like I just can’t get it right
Its better to leap than to fall
Destiny is a thing that’s there for us all
I will take control, and determine mine
We will see what happens, it just takes time!
poem by Kayla Neil
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The heart will love, the heart will grow, the heart will break, the heart will heal
THE HEART WILL LOVE
when i meet that special woman
to hold me in the warm sunlight
to embrace me in the rising storm
to capture my feelings without a fight
my heart will breathe(my heart will love)
THE HEART WILL GROW
when that women holds my hand
to control my wild heart in its cage
to break the rocky mountains of my rage
to let our love guide us into distant lands
my heart will grow for her
THE HEART WILL BREAK
when that woman pushes me aside(even for an instant)
to run away to the arms of another man
to caress the gentle touch of another hand
to leave me standing alone with no one by my side
my heart will break
THE HEART WILL HEAL
when that woman returns to me with crystal tears
and lays out the burdens of her hidden fears
i will embrace her once more stronger than ever
and reassure my love for her with a kiss
her breathing heart i'll feel
my heart will heal
poem by Allen Steble
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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