Oh terrible, beloved! A poet's loving
Oh terrible, beloved! A poet's loving
Is a restless god's passionate rage,
And chaos out into the world comes creeping,
As in the ancient fossil age.
His eyes weep him mist by the ton,
Enveloped in tears he is mammoth-like,
Out of fashion. He knows it must not be done.
Ages have passed-he does not know why.
He sees wedding parties all around,
Drunken unions celebrated unaware,
Common frogspawn found in every pond
Ritually adorned as precious caviare.
Like some Watteau pearl, how cleverly
A snuffbox embraces all life's matter,
And vengeance is wreaked on him, probably
Because, where they distort and flatter,
Where simpering comfort lies and fawns,
Where they rub idle shoulders, crawl like drones,
He will raise your sister from the ground,
Use her like a bacchante from the Grecian urns,
And pour into his kiss the Andes' melting,
And morning in the steppe, under the sway
Of dusted stars, as night's pallid bleating
Bustles about the village on its way.
And the botanical vestry's dense blackness,
And all the ravine's age-old breath,
Waft over the ennui of the stuffed mattress,
And the forest's ancient chaos spurts forth
poem by Boris Pasternak
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Steppe
How lovely those journeys into quiet!
Boundless the steppe, like a seascape,
ants rustle, and the feather-grass sighs,
mosquitoes go whining through space.
The hayricks line up with the clouds,
volcano after volcano, they fade.
Grown silent, damp, the boundless steppe,
you drift, you’re buffeted, you sway.
The mist overtakes us, washes, a sea,
and burrs are clinging to stockings, today
it’s lovely to tramp the steppe’s shore,
you drift, you’re buffeted, you sway.
Is that a rick in the mist? Who knows?
Is that one ours? Yes, it’s found.
There! Yes, that’s it all right, though.
The rick, and the mist, and the steppe all round.
And the Milky Way slants towards Kerch,
like a path that cattle have stamped on.
Go past the houses, you’ll lose your breath,
on every side, broad, broad horizons.
Shadowy midnight stands by the way,
strewn with stars, that touch every verst,
and you can’t cross it, beyond the fence,
without trampling the universe.
When did the stars sweep down so low,
midnight sink so deep in tall grass,
and drenched muslin, afraid, aglow,
long for a dénouement at last?
Let the steppe judge, and night decide.
When, if not in the Beginning,
did Mosquitoes whine, Ants ride,
and Burrs go clinging to stockings?
Close them, my darling! Or go blind!
The whole steppe’s as before the Fall:
All, drowned in peace, like a parachute,
like a heaving vision, All.
poem by Boris Pasternak
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Paradise Of Chaos
We march like fools in a parade of chaos.
We march like fools in a parade of chaos.
Led by our enemies.
While we sing their praises.
Led by our enemies.
While we kiss their hands.
The morning rained fire.
Let the heavens retire.
Over the eyes of the blind.
And the vioces of spoiled children.
True leadersare gone.
We turned our back too many times.
And bit the hand of the provider.
Chaos kills us.
Chaos.
song performed by by Zao from Parade Of Chaos
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Parade Of Chaos
We march like fools in a parade of chaos.
We march like fools in a parade of chaos.
Led by our enemies.
While we sing their praises.
Led by our enemies.
While we kiss their hands.
The morning rained fire.
Let the heavens retire.
Over the eyes of the blind.
And the vioces of spoiled children.
True leadersare gone.
We turned our back too many times.
And bit the hand of the provider.
Chaos kills us.
Chaos.
song performed by by Zao
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Death
The awful seers of old who wrote, in words
Like drops of blood, great thoughts that through the night
Of ages burn, as eyes of lions light
Deep jungle-dusks; who smote with songs like swords
The soul of man on its most secret chords,
And made the heart of him a harp to smite--
Where are they? Where that old man lorn of sight,
The king of song among these laurelled lords?
But where are all the ancient singing-spheres
That burst through chaos like the summer's breath
Through ice-bound seas where never seaman steers?
Burnt out. Gone down. No star remembereth
These stars and seers well-silenced through the years--
The songless years of everlasting death.
poem by Victor James Daley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ego
Day passeth day in sunshine or shadow,
Night unto night each cycle is told;
Sun, moon and stars in whirling and glamour,
All unto all the creation unfold.
What of the strivings, what of the gropings,
Out from the darkness into the light?
What of the weepings, what of the grievings
Now from the day to the passionate night?
Stars of the stars, heavens of the heavens,
Rising or falling or pausing a span,
Each to the great "I am" replying
E'en as the crystal, e'en as man.
Chant of the worlds from aeon to aeon,
Song of the soul from dust unto dust,
Dream of the clods that, upward and starward,
Rise to the call of the primal "Thou must."
Space beyond space, eternity's vision,
Chaos to chaos, calm unto calm,
World beneath world, heaven above heaven,
Life but the urge, death but the balm.
poem by Joseph Seamon Cotter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Way Of It
This is the way of it, wide world over,
One is beloved, and one is the lover,
One gives and the other receives.
One lavishes all in a wild emotion,
One offers a smile for a life’s devotion,
One hopes and the other believes,
One lies awake in the night to weep,
And the other drifts off in a sweet sound sleep.
One soul is aflame with a godlike passion,
One plays with love in an idler’s fashion,
One speaks and the other hears.
One sobs, ‘I love you, ’ and wet eyes to show it,
And one laughs lightly, and says, ‘I know it, ’
With smiles for the other’s tears.
One lives for the other and nothing beside,
And the other remembers the world is wide.
This is the way of it, sad earth over,
The heart that breaks is the heart of the lover,
And the other learns to forget.
‘For what is the use in endless sorrow?
Though the sun goes down, it will rise tomorrow;
And life is not over yet.’
Oh! I know this truth, if I know no other,
That passionate Love is Pain’s own mother.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Jiang Village
Red evening clouds are mountainous in the west
and the sun's feet disappear under the horizon.
Sparrows noisy over the brushwood door.
I am a traveler home after a thousand miles.
My wife and children are startled to see me alive.
The surprise ends but they can't stop wiping tears.
In the chaotic world I was tossed about;
I've found my way home, alive by accident.
Neighbors crowd over our garden walls.
They are moved, sighing and even weeping.
In deep night we hold candles,
facing each other as if in dream.
I live my late years as if I've stolen my life.
Very few joys after I returned home.
My little son never lets go of my knees,
afraid I will go away again.
I remember I liked to chase cool shade,
so I walk under trees by the pond.
Whistling, the north wind is strong,
I finger past events and a hundred worries fry in my mind.
However, the crops are harvested,
wine spurts from the mouth of the flask
and I have enough to fill my cups
and console me in my dusk.
A group of chickens make chaos
and fight each other as guests arrive.
I drive them up bushes and trees,
before I hear knocking on my brushwood gate:
four or five village elders greet me
and ask about my long absence.
Each of them brings a gift in hand.
Their wines pour out, some clear, some muddy.
They apologize for their wine, so watery,
as there was no one to grow millet.
Weapons and horses can't rest yet;
the young men are gone on the expedition east.
I offer a song for my old village folks,
feeling deep gratitude.
After singing, I sigh and throw back my head
and tears meander down our faces.
MNchhausen
Just chaos!
Maybe he like to brag
Did he invent himself
He live 'till the end of time
Oh mnchhausen was a sun of a gun
He had his share of wild adventures
He rode the cannonball like no other man
And pulled himself up in the air
Just chaos!
Whether he liked to brag
He lives 'till the end of time
With his immortal lies
Oh mnchhausen took a trip to the moon
And beat the sultan and his navy
With a company containing just five
He gunned them down just by himself
Such a special baron man mnchhausen
He spread chaos around the world
Just chaos!
Maybe he liked...
song performed by by Ace Of Base
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
See The Sky Again
Whispered from my heart and soul to my unwilling eyes
Lift my vision from the ground lift it to the sky
Skies they used to be so ugly rain that stings my face
Opens up their glory just earth and sky and space
And your passionate embraces absolve me of my sin
Your life lifts me up so I can see
See the sky again
And Ive lived through all the flash-fire set off like lightening spark
Yes they burn so brightly and oh they burn so hot
And these fantasies of all our love tearing at the ground
Wrapped up in the vortex of sweat and sex and sound
And your passionate embraces absolve me of my sin
Your life lifts me up so I can see, see the sky again
Hide me
From the love Im too scared to send
Hide me
til I see the sky again
And your passionate embraces absolve me of my sin
Your life lifts me up so I can see
See the sky again
song performed by by Edwin McCain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Forest Primeval
Forest Primeval
As I walk through
this forest realm.
Breathing in
the mellow mist of scents,
the molting leaf, the broken bark
of times past.
My skin breathes in
the cool kiss of morning air.
I exhale breathless,
in the presence,
of such divine beauty.
I reach out to touch
the divinity of life
of this forests sweet soul.
And to my blissful sense
I see the green hue of
Giant living trees.
So tall above the earth
And yet they humbly bow,
To earth in holy intent.
Giving the breath of life,
To this dweller that walks there.
Returning the fragile cool air
To their companion beings.
I humbly accept the kiss of life
From these magnificent
Redwood oracles.
So ancient and wise above all.
In gratitude and love I vow
To protect all life Here.
In this holiest place
Of God's creation.
poem by Lynne FincherSpringarden
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Glory Gone
What is my thought of you, beloved one,
Now you have passed from me and gone your ways?
Glory is gone with you from stars and sun,
And all wise meaning from the nights and days.
There is no colour, no delight, no praise
In the deep forest, where your dear eyes shone,
Nor any dryad face with cheeks ablaze
To paint the glades grown sere as Avalon.
--What is my thought of you? No thought have I
But just to weep the pity of lost things,
Grieve with the wind, and rain tears with the rain.
The sun may smile, who knows, in a blue sky,
To--morrow? But to--day Hope's passionate wings
Are folded and Love waits on only Pain.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
(Angry Poem) Bringing Forth A Demon
I make a cut a so clean.
Bring forth a soul of a demon.
Wicked thoughts of what I can do to you.
The rage is building inside.
Looking through blood shot eyes.
Lightning raining down from the sky.
The storm has arrived. let chaos reside.
Like I haven't dealt with enough.
Like I'm not already fed up or mentally done.
Come put your stuff on the pile.
I'll get around to it in my own good god damn time.
Patients is a virtue that has just ran out.
I lose all my composure.
I scream and shout at the top of my lungs.
Like anyone can actually hear me.
Let it fall on deaf ears.
Finally the end is near.
I can feel the fear, as one can smell the rose.
Its is closure in all its glory.
I'm ready to close this book.
The last of a story so old.
I have grown cold and tired of it.
So with the last of my energy. I make a cut so clean.
Bring forth a soul of a demon.
Wicked thoughts of what I can do to you.
The rage is building up inside.
Looking through bloodshot eyes.
Lighting raining down from the sky.
Let chaos reside.
So many tears run red.
becoming one with dead.
Vicious words are said.
You just can't let it go.
You can't just leave me alone.
The hell hounds are always biting at my heels.
Just wait I'll show you exactly how it feels.
Here's the deal.
See these scars are part of me.
So with the last of my energy.
I make a cut so clean.
Bring forth a soul of a demon.
Wicked thoughts of what i can do to you.
The rage is building up inside.
looking through these bloodshot eyes.
Lighting raining down from the sky.
Let chaos reside
just let the chaos reside.
I can envision a river of bone.
Crossing it alone.
You act if this is the way i wanted it.
when you know damn well I was at my last resort.
whine and moan, as everything burns.
Liquid fire melts everyone and everything.
This is all my little black heart desires.
With the last of my energy.
I make a cut so clean.
bring forth a soul of a demon.
wicked thoughts of what i can do to you.
the rage is building up inside.
Looking through bloodshot eyes.
Lighting raining down from the sky.
Let chaos reside
Just let chaos reside
Just let my chaos reside.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
As Destiny Unfolds
There is always a choice to make
When two paths merge and life takes a break
For a split second, all things are one
As destiny and chaos collide once more
When two paths merge and life takes a break
No one will warn you that it is already to late
To change the path you have taken
As destiny and chaos collide once more
For a split second, all things are one
In that moment, you realize God will not be outdone
This place and time will no longer exist
As destiny and chaos collide once more
No one will warn you it is already too late
The first man and woman sealed your fate
Nothing can stop what was meant to be
As destiny and chaos collide once more
To change the path you have taken
The original spirit must reawaken
To be forsaken was never part of the master plan
As destiny and chaos collide once more
In that moment, you realize God will not be outdone
By now you realize that life is not a dry run
No second chances are guaranteed
As destiny and chaos collide once more
This place and time will no longer exist
And mankind is summarily dismissed
For failing to exercise discipline and reproof
As destiny and chaos collide once more
The first man and woman sealed your fate
The choice is no longer yours to make
What you do now is fruit of the poisonous tree
As destiny and chaos collide once more
Nothing can stop what was meant to be
Two paths have merged into life’s potpourri
The world is filled with to much hate
As destiny and chaos collide once more
The original spirit must reawaken
Or those waiting for the rapture will not be taken
It will all be for not in the end
As destiny and chaos collide once more
To be forsaken was never part of the master plan
The time has come to take a stand
What you do now repeats the past of long ago
As destiny and chaos collide once more
By now you realize that life is not a dry run
What has been will always return
As it was in ancient times, so it will be
As destiny and chaos collide once more
No second chances are guaranteed
No end in sight, no need to proceed
Since all you know will be forgotten
As destiny and chaos collide once more
And mankind is summarily dismissed
Because he labors for vanity
His soul adrift in a sea of confusion
As destiny and chaos collide once more
poem by Nettie Pennington
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Passion Of A Poet
in the world of the poet
passionate about his next poem
there are many trees reaching
high upon the skies
there are bluer skies up there
there are black and white birds
blending
day and nights
dusk and twilight
there will be more things to see
in colors and tastes and
scents of onions and
roses
there is no world as passionate as
a poet in love
with his craft
his beloved asleep in the beauty of her
closed eyes
his lips touching the nipples of her breasts
his tongue unraveling the magic
of a navel
in the world of the passionate poet
there are never aching eyes
perhaps only
an aching heart still wanting to embrace
so much love
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rage...paİ N And Shame
unfortunately outburst a big rage.......on our small border village.....on a windy and damned day....who are these black men...with black masks on face...from darkness...with guns..machine guns and turrets...with light armour weapons...aimed on humans....how dare...they ki, ll small chidren...men and women...how dare...even children in their mothers'...even not born yet..not a bbay yet....even praying...how this vengeance and rage emerged and fed..who are this hatred men with gun....combing the wedding crowd with bullets.....pain and shame covered this village..near the border...in fact near the border of humanity.....but no traces of regret.....when will this hatred end....nobody knows yet...thr bulldosers...the graders....the excavators dug the graves..of fifty human beings....a moment before were livings...it is spring may be may...hopeless tears shed....and never end...dug soil smells spring...body..sometimes corpse...chidren unaware..play on newly dug graves...interlocked...they play hide and seek....but the some hidden will never come out...tears are shed...mournings....elegies sung...it was a wedding ceremony...turning into a burial ceremony...suddenly in a moment...rage outburst...a funeral..pell_mell..informal...that is real...not a dream..death is side by side...with living...is a part of life...but should not have come so easy...should not have fallen on even not babies..in their mothers'....not born yet...graders..bulldozers...excavators...dug the graves..pell-mell...things are not developing well...for humanity....really...mournings...tears shed....elegies sung and cried....never stopping and will not stop yet..rage ..pain and shame...emerging from the small village near the border..scattered...and... covered all over the world...neverless...stealthily ..and slowly...in darkness
poem by Metin Sahin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
For simele [a village massacred in northern irak]
build the old city, raise the ancient wall
walk in pride brother, sister head up..tall
trace the footsteps, in mud deep
Khoshaba [assyrian name] walked there, Meriam's silent weep
teardrops as to blood turn
raining heaven, my soul burn
candle on each footprint sign
3000 sun in Simele shine
from Simele lilyana [assyrian wedding songs] come spreading
Khoshaba and Meriam are wedding
time to joy arrive
Simele my tumble bet ever alive
poem by Zack Birkho
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Qué Pasa?
You ask “What’s going on? ”
In this world filled with fear
Not unlike ancient Babylon
When chaos reigned severe
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
How This Universe Ryhme So Well?
the beginning is chaos
so the end shall be, also chaos
there is no order, there is even
no beginning, there is no systematic ending
wanton is the conception and
disorder is the truth, not that this is what you see
today or tomorrow or yesterday they are all one
there is no space in between
yet you refuse to believe and you write
to please everyone and make them believe
in the pleasing personality of the world of
rhymes and clock ticking at the middle of the night
you perceive order and you organize the system
please yourself and then suddenly
tears fall on the letters and smother the print
of your orderly paper world
you suffuse anger on the pen
i ponder upon the blot and rethink what i think was always right
back to chaos, i ask how can you like the rhyme and the rhythm?
how can you ever live in this fantasy?
in my free verse, i say what i say, and life speaks to me
like i am life itself, and freed from hypocrisy, the truth gets in
jagged, rugged, and pulsating
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hallowed Ground
We must journey this land before we leave.
We must believe before we can be deceived.
We must seek a world of clarity.
Never have I set foot upon more a hallowed ground
Never have I sat within the earth, waiting below a mound
For the winter sun to kiss, to bless all that’s lost unfound.
Upon the Monks walk ancient seeds have been spread
Beyond the unravelling of time, drawn in dirt the circle
Bends less it be naught more than a line.
A blade of grass may reveal wisdom unto your soul
That until that point had remained unseen, sometimes
My thoughts thrown into the cauldron breed monsters
Far from clean. Delve inside the mushroom you found,
Upon such hallowed ground who knows what may happen.
The ocean breathes, once more caressing the earth with
The tides that break upon her shorelines. Our Lady breathes
Once more, as throughout every summer’s rain.
Mist engulfs the treetops of nearby woodland slopes,
High up in the valley forest dwellers weep.
Trying to keep all they know alive, striving as Our Lady sighs.
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!