On the Road to the Sea
We passed each other, turned and stopped for half an hour, then went our way,
I who make other women smile did not make you--
But no man can move mountains in a day.
So this hard thing is yet to do.
But first I want your life:--before I die I want to see
The world that lies behind the strangeness of your eyes,
There is nothing gay or green there for my gathering, it may be,
Yet on brown fields there lies
A haunting purple bloom: is there not something in grey skies
And in grey sea?
I want what world there is behind your eyes,
I want your life and you will not give it me.
Now, if I look, I see you walking down the years,
Young, and through August fields--a face, a thought, a swinging dream
perched on a stile--;
I would have liked (so vile we are!) to have taught you tears
But most to have made you smile.
To-day is not enough or yesterday: God sees it all--
Your length on sunny lawns, the wakeful rainy nights--; tell me--;
(how vain to ask), but it is not a question--just a call--;
Show me then, only your notched inches climbing up the garden wall,
I like you best when you are small.
Is this a stupid thing to say
Not having spent with you one day?
No matter; I shall never touch your hair
Or hear the little tick behind your breast,
Still it is there,
And as a flying bird
Brushes the branches where it may not rest
I have brushed your hand and heard
The child in you: I like that best
So small, so dark, so sweet; and were you also then too grave and wise?
Always I think. Then put your far off little hand in mine;--
Oh! let it rest;
I will not stare into the early world beyond the opening eyes,
Or vex or scare what I love best.
But I want your life before mine bleeds away--
Here--not in heavenly hereafters--soon,--
I want your smile this very afternoon,
(The last of all my vices, pleasant people used to say,
I wanted and I sometimes got--the Moon!)
You know, at dusk, the last bird's cry,
And round the house the flap of the bat's low flight,
Trees that go black against the sky
And then--how soon the night!
No shadow of you on any bright road again,
And at the darkening end of this--what voice? whose kiss? As if you'd say!
It is not I who have walked with you, it will not be I who take away
Peace, peace, my little handful of the gleaner's grain
From your reaped fields at the shut of day.
Peace! Would you not rather die
Reeling,--with all the cannons at your ear?
So, at least, would I,
And I may not be here
To-night, to-morrow morning or next year.
Still I will let you keep your life a little while,
See dear?
I have made you smile.
poem by Charlotte Mary Mew
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Just to see your smile
Just to see your smile
Just to see your smile
The stars gather in the sky
And to feel your touch
The wind passes by
Just to see your smile
The waves hit the shores
And the sun wakes up so early
To see you offcourse
Just to see your smile
Fragrance comes into flowers
And to touch your hair
Water pours down in showers
Just to see your smile
The moon follows you everywhere
There’s someone else too who
Often follows you, if you care
Just to see your smile
I can bring down the stars
And decorate your way
With beautiful flowers
Just to see your smile
I have waited for years
Leading a life that was
Sunken deep in tears
Just to see your smile
I can give away
Everything I have
Without any dismay
Just to see your smile
Gives me happiness without measure
I wish I could see it
On your face forever
Just to see your smile
I thank God for these eyes
In five feet four inches
My whole world lies
poem by Vivek Mehta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Give A Little Bit Of Smile
Friends of the universe
I welcome you all
To the world of sunshine and laughter
Theres so much to see if only you could see
That life is so merry, so jolly and free
Come listen to me and hear what I say
Just a little favor from society
cause it only needs a muscle to be happy
So come and show it and give all the love
Refrain:
Give a little bit of smile
And the world would smile too
Yes, a little bit of smile
And the sun will shine through
Give a little bit of smile
Spread the cheers now
Spread them smile after smile
Life will be easy, I promise youll see
Open up your eyes to things of beauty
And remember the world will find its glory
If you and me will only agree
Give a little bit of smile
And the world would smile too
Yes, a little bit of smile
And the sun will shine through
Give a little bit of smile
Spread the cheers now
Spread them wide like the bird
That keeps on flying in the sky
Like the child who listens to a lullaby
Theres a smile that we can share together
Give that smile and love one another
Give a little bit of smile
And the world would smile too
Yes, a little bit of smile
And the sun will shine through
Give a little bit of smile
Spread the cheers now
Spread them smile after smile
A little bit of smile
song performed by by Lea Salonga
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dead To The Living
Work while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.
IN the childhood of April, while purple woods
With the young year's blood in them smiled,
I passed through the lanes and the wakened fields,
And stood by the grave of the child.
And the pain awoke that is never dead
Though it sometimes sleeps, and again
It set its teeth in this heart of mine,
And fastened its claws in my brain:
For it seemed so hard that the little hands
And the little well-loved head
Should be out of reach of my living lips,
And be side by side with the dead--
Not side by side with us who had loved,
But with these who had never seen
The grace of the smile, the gold of the hair,
And the eyes of my baby-queen.
Yet with trees about where the brown birds build,
And with long green grass above,
She lies in the cold sweet breast of earth
Beyond the reach of our love;
Whatever befalls in the coarse loud world,
We know she will never wake.
When I thought of the sorrow she might have known,
I was almost glad for her sake. . . .
Tears might have tired those kiss-closed eyes,
Grief hardened the mouth I kissed;
I was almost glad that my dear was dead
Because of the pain she had missed.
Oh, if I could but have died a child
With a white child-soul like hers,
As pure as the wind-flowers down in the copse,
Where the soul of the spring's self stirs;
Or if I had only done with it all,
And might lie by her side unmoved!
I envied the very clods of earth
Their place near the child I loved!
And my soul rose up in revolt at life,
As I stood dry-eyed by her grave,
When sudden the grass of the churchyard sod
Rolled back like a green smooth wave;
The brown earth looked like the brown sea rocks,
The tombstones were white like spray,
And white like surf were the curling folds
Of the shrouds where the dead men lay;
For each in his place with his quiet face
I saw the dead lie low,
Who had worked and suffered and found life sad,
So many sad years ago.
Unchanged by time I saw them lie
As when first they were laid to rest,
The tired eyes closed, the sad lips still,
And the work-worn hands on the breast.
There were some who had found the green world so grey,
They had left it before their time,
And some were little ones like my dear,
And some had died in their prime;
And some were old, they had had their fill
Of bitter unfruitful hours,
And knew that none of them, none, had known
A flower of a hope like ours!
Through their shut eyelids the dead looked up,
And without a voice they said:
'We lived without hope, without hope we died,
And hopeless we lie here dead;
And death is better than life that draws
Pain in, as it draws in breath,
If life never dreams of a coming day
When life shall not envy death.
Through the dark of our hours and our times we lived,
Uncheered by a single ray
Of such hope as lightens the lives of you
Who are finding life hard to-day;
With our little lanterns of human love
We lighted our dark warm night--
But you in the chill of the dawn are set
With your face to the eastern light.
Freedom is waiting with hands held out
Till you tear the veil from her face--
And when once men have seen the light of her eyes,
And felt her divine embrace,
The light of the world will be risen indeed,
And will shine in the eyes of men,
And those who come after will find life fair,
And their lives worth living then!
Will you strive to the light in your loud rough world,
That these things may come to pass,
Or lie in the shadow beside the child,
And strive to the sun through the grass?'
'My world while I may,' I cried; 'but you
Whose lives were as dark as your grave?'
'We too are a part of the coming light,'
They called through the smooth green wave.
Their white shrouds gleamed as the flood of green
Rolled over and hid them from me--
Hid all but the little hands and the hair,
And the face that I always see.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Quest
I am looking for Love. Has he passed this way,
With eyes as blue as the skies of May,
And a face as fair as the summer dawn?--
You answer back, but I wander on,--
For you say: 'Oh, yes; but his eyes were gray,
And his face as dim as a rainy day.'
Good friends, I query, I search for Love;
His eyes are as blue as the skies above,
And his smile as bright as the midst of May
When the truce-bird pipes: Has he passed this way?
And one says: 'Ay; but his face, alack!
Frowned as he passed, and his eyes were black.'
O who will tell me of Love? I cry!
His eyes are as blue as the mid-May sky,
And his face as bright as the morning sun;
And you answer and mock me, every one,
That his eyes were dark, and his face was wan,
And he passed you frowning and wandered on.
But stout of heart will I onward fare,
Knowing _my_ Love is beyond--somewhere,--
The Love I seek, with the eyes of blue,
And the bright, sweet smile unknown of you;
And on from the hour his trail is found
I shall sing sonnets the whole year round.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Broken Chances
My Love,
I don't know how you're going to get this,
But it is my last word on this Earth.
Just what ever you do sit alone and read this.
I want you to be at the lake where you gave me my first kiss,
I want you to sit by the tree that held us, and read this.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You were my love, my only one person who always made me smile,
You held my hand through so many things, so many firsts.
You were my light you were my smile
And you told me the three deadly words,
The words that always kill, but first make you smile.
I have sewed my mouth shut, so you will never see me smile.
I would melt at the sound of your voice,
I would just sit and listen just to know you were really there,
I would call when you weren't home, just to hear your voice.
My wish every day was to hear you say 'I love you',
To hear your voice.
I have glued my ears so I don't have to listen to your lies.
I remember the feeling of your hands running through my hair,
You'd weave your fingers through it to comfort me,
Sometimes I would act sad just to feel your fingers in my hair,
I would silently smile and melt in your arms.
I remember your fingers running through my blond hair.
I have cut my hair so I can never remember that feeling.
U can see you standing looking at me with your sparkling eyes,
I always see you,
I can never see past those deep eyes,
I can see you smile at me, see your hands reach for mine.
I can still see your eyes.
I have cut my eyes out so I can never again fall into your deceiving eyes.
You made my heart race with butterflies, with hope.
I gave you my heart to keep, you said you'd never break it,
You gave me the one thing i needed ti keep going; hope.
And I fell for the traps, I gave you EVERYTHING.
I ave you all the hope I held in my heart, my soul.
I have stabbed my heart, just so you can't shatter what's already broken.
You became my life, you became my love, my everything.
No matter what happened I still loved you,
And no matter what I tried to give you everything,
And you made me loose so much that I'm left with nothing,
And with my dying breath I give you what was all I had left, my everything.
I take my life to show you what love really means, that it's not the lie you told.
I may not be able to smile when you hold me,
I may not be able to hear your words even if their truth,
I may not be able to remember you soothing touch, or your warmth,
I mat not be able to see your eyes, or your reaching hands,
I may not be able to press my beating heart against your skin,
I may not be able to give you a second chance, for like my heart it is broken,
But After the pain and lies, I believe in what I felt for you,
And hope maybe someday you'll believe the same, and find beauty from pain
Even with nothing left to give you but my word, I breath my last breath for you.
I lay in silence to let you live, to give to you a broken second chance,
For I will always love you,
Be............
by: Bethany Maxwell =)
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Damn Dark Brown Eyes
Let me start with one corner
The other corner is wide
In between there’s whole world
The truth, the lies and the skies
The mountains high and blue sky
I can see it all through the reflection of light
The beauties of it describes
What’s the world with a smile that’s so bright
Oh! Your damn dark brown eyes
Tells the story of your innocence with no surprise
The whole world is beautiful if I look through those eyes
You have lovely damn dark brown eyes
The darkest small round thing in between your eyes
Rotates around as you don’t keep watching tight
Then those dark brown things which covers your eyes
Feels like a ocean with a deep divine
Whenever I stare at your damn dark brown eyes
I feel to get more and more inside
The ocean looks so deep and waves so strong
And all those pixels describes that you have something inside
Oh! Your damn dark brown eyes
Makes me feel to swim inside
Yes, I am floating in my imagination
How would be the ocean inside your eyes
When you smile, I can feel it from your eyes
It tells everything that I desire to find
It makes you lovely as lovely as you are always with a smile
Cause you’ve got that damn dark brown eyes.
poem by Rajib Paudyal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Peace on Earth
He took a frayed hat from his head,
And “Peace on Earth” was what he said.
“A morsel out of what you’re worth,
And there we have it: Peace on Earth.
Not much, although a little more
Than what there was on earth before
I’m as you see, I’m Ichabod,—
But never mind the ways I’ve trod;
I’m sober now, so help me God.”
I could not pass the fellow by.
“Do you believe in God?” said I;
“And is there to be Peace on Earth?”
“Tonight we celebrate the birth,”
He said, “of One who died for men;
The Son of God, we say. What then?
Your God, or mine? I’d make you laugh
Were I to tell you even half
That I have learned of mine today
Where yours would hardly seem to stay.
Could He but follow in and out
Some anthropoids I know about,
The god to whom you may have prayed
Might see a world He never made.”
“Your words are flowing full,” said I;
“But yet they give me no reply;
Your fountain might as well be dry.”
“A wiser One than you, my friend,
Would wait and hear me to the end;
And for his eyes a light would shine
Through this unpleasant shell of mine
That in your fancy makes of me
A Christmas curiosity.
All right, I might be worse than that;
And you might now be lying flat;
I might have done it from behind,
And taken what there was to find.
Don’t worry, for I’m not that kind.
‘Do I believe in God?’ Is that
The price tonight of a new hat?
Has he commanded that his name
Be written everywhere the same?
Have all who live in every place
Identified his hidden face?
Who knows but he may like as well
My story as one you may tell?
And if he show me there be Peace
On Earth, as there be fields and trees
Outside a jail-yard, am I wrong
If now I sing him a new song?
Your world is in yourself, my friend,
For your endurance to the end;
And all the Peace there is on Earth
Is faith in what your world is worth,
And saying, without any lies,
Your world could not be otherwise.”
“One might say that and then be shot,”
I told him; and he said: “Why not?”
I ceased, and gave him rather more
Than he was counting of my store.
“And since I have it, thanks to you,
Don’t ask me what I mean to do,”
Said he. “Believe that even I
Would rather tell the truth than lie—
On Christmas Eve. No matter why.”
His unshaved, educated face,
His inextinguishable grace.
And his hard smile, are with me still,
Deplore the vision as I will;
For whatsoever he be at,
So droll a derelict as that
Should have at least another hat.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Cotswolds
The road stretches far in front of me
Lined by Cotswold stone walls and old oak trees
Light flickering through branches like peppered stars
Reflecting slowly across the bonnet of my car
I see a pigeon flying alongside trying to keep pace
And feel the early morning sun kiss my face
What better way to make you smile
Driving through the Cotswolds mile after mile
If everything in life could be as good as this
The world would be happy and full of bliss
A sign I see says it's not far to go
20 minutes at the most if I go with the flow
The road damp after heavens opened up in a stream
Leaving a rainbow coloured sky as if made in a dream
It would be nice to stop and ponder for a while
Driving through the Cotswolds mile after mile
The end of my road is as far as I want it to be
Wherever this is, the choice is mine you see
I'm not there yet and have some distance to go
So slowly turn up the volume a notch on the radio
With fields and trees rushing past and sunroof open
Listening to the music with words sung not spoken
I like the sound, I like the rhythm and style
Driving through the Cotswolds mile after mile
My road is coming to an end - beautiful as it may be
Cotswold stone replaced by daffodils and blossom trees
Wide pavements give a feeling of peace and space
I see a lady jogging with her hair out of place
The postman putting mail through a door
Wonder if it's important, wonder who it's for?
And as the sun comes up I close my eyes and smile
Dreaming of driving through the Cotswolds mile after mile
poem by JeanJacques Evendon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Smile For Me
'Smile for me!
Is somebody waiting for me?
She took this picture
Did she take it for me?
Time is ticking,
Her smile insists, just to tell her was she waiting me?
When she smiles, I feel it, I know, I see it.
When she’s happy,
Smiles so bright, gives me another reason
For her her I’d fight!
I am happy when she’s happy
I smile when she smiles
I face the fact that it’s just her smile.
But I know inside,
Deep inside that smile,
She smiles for me, just for awhile.
A picture perfected, you should see
I just love it when she smiles for me.
She inspires me to reach out my hand
Hold her close
Let her stand
That smile of hers, no one can take,
No matter how early, no matter how late.
The time it takes, you must understand
It starting now, it starts again.
When you see her smile
It makes you see, just how deep is her real beauty.
To display her I would
Smile for me she should
My day would be complete, when she even smiles for me.
Those eyes, that skin, her hair, that grin
Makes you forget what world you are in
Her eyes I gaze
Her hands so soft
When she?
Will she?
I think she ought.
Smile for me, not the first or the last
Just smile for me, my time has past
I wait to see that smile she wore
She smiles for me forevermore.
Did I miss it?
Here it comes, a smile for me is coming out
But when, If, I wonder how.
She smiles when she sees me, when I am no where around
That smile she has inspires us all.
Will she smile? will she smile at all?
I wait to see, is it coming out? That smile is here,
It’s out it’s out
Taken with time
A grin so new
Just one more smile
Ok make it two.
Held in my arms.
Waiting’ to see.
Smiling, waiting, too much to ask,
But smile for me, at last, at last!
I saw one coming out
Here’s another
She smiles, she smiles like no other.
When she, will she, I should wonder,
But that smile of hers is the 9th world wonder.
Smile for me, smile wide smile bright!
Give me a smile to rest with tonight.
My smile is yours as you can see,
But smile for me so they all can see.
Hidden behind that timeless frame,
Is a smile I would love to see again and again'
poem by Antonio Lockridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dying Hour
I.
OH! watch me; watch me still
Thro' the long night's dreary hours,
Uphold by thy firm will
Worn Nature's sinking powers!
II.
While yet thy face is there
(The loose locks round it flying),
So young, and fresh, and fair,
I feel not I am dying!
III.
Stoop down, and kiss my brow!
The shadows round me closing
Warn me that dark and low
I soon shall be reposing.
IV.
But while those pitying eyes
Are bending thus above me,
In vain the death-dews rise,--
Thou dost regret and love me!
V.
Then watch me thro' the night,
Thro' my broken, fitful slumber;
By the pale lamp's sickly light
My dying moments number!
VI.
Thy fond and patient smile
Shall soothe my painful waking;
Thy voice shall cheer me while
The slow grey dawn is breaking!
VII.
The battle-slain, whose thirst
No kindly hand assuages,
Whose low faint farewells burst
Unheard, while combat rages,--
VIII.
The exiled, near whose bed
Some vision'd form seems weeping,
Whose steps shall never tread
The land where he lies sleeping,--
IX.
The drown'd, whose parting breath
Is caught by wild winds only,--
Theirs is the bitter death,
Beloved, for they die lonely!
X.
But thus, tho' rack'd, to lie,
Thou near, tho' full of sadness,
Leaves still, e'en while I die,
A lingering gleam of gladness!
XI.
I feel not half my pain
When to mine thy fond lip presses,--
I warm to life again
Beneath thy soft caresses!
XII.
Once more, oh! yet once more
Fling, fling thy white arms round me,
As oft in days of yore
Their gentle clasp hath bound me;
XIII.
And hold me to that breast
Which heaves so full with sorrow--
Who knows where I may rest
In the dark and blank to-morrow?
XIV.
Ah! weep not--it shall be
An after-thought to cheer thee,
That while mine eyes could see,
And while mine ears could hear thee--
XV.
Thy voice and smile were still
The spells on which I doated,
And thou, through good and ill,
To me and mine devoted!
XVI.
And calmly by my tomb,
When the low bright day declineth,
And athwart the cypress gloom
The mellow sunset shineth,--
XVII.
Thou'lt sit and think of Him,
Who, of Heaven's immortal splendour,
Had a dream on earth, though dim,
In thy love so pure and tender,--
XVIII.
Who scarcely feels thy touch,--
Whom thy voice can rouse no longer,--
But whose love on earth was such,
That only death was stronger.
XIX.
Yes, sit, but not in tears!
Thine eyes in faith uplifting,
From thy lot of changeful years,
To the Heaven where naught is shifting.
XX.
From this world, where all who love
Are doomed alike to sever,
To the glorious realms above,
Where they dwell in peace for ever!
XXI.
And then such hope shall beam
From the grave where I lie sleeping,
This bitter hour shall seem
Too vague and far for weeping--
XXII.
And grief--ah! hold me now!
My fluttering pulse is failing,--
The death-dews chill my brow,--
The morning light is paling!
XXIII.
I seek thy gaze in vain,--
Earth reels and fades before me;
I die!--but feel no pain,--
Thy sweet face shining o'er me!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Find Your Smile
'Smile and the world smiles with you, ' so the saying goes,
where it came from, where it was born, no-one really knows.
But truth will out, where theres a smile because it is contagious,
be it just a little grin, or a smile completely outragious.
A smile come not just from the lips, for it does not then begile,
it comes from within your eyes, for it is there, you find a smile.
From the eyes of a small child, or from a face up in years,
a real smile stretches, yes, from both of your ears.
Some days though, to smile is very hard, if you have worries or trepidation,
it could be health, work of even costly inflation.
But for today, let those thoughts and worries drift far, far away,
help the world shine with your smile, and make it last all day.
poem by Ruth warren
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Today (Earth Song)
Please oh please
where blue ain't green
so flowers can bloom and birds can sing
today
Hang out with your friends
cool breezing sun
and I'ma join y'all so we can all have fun
today
and blow me a kiss
and dry my clothes
while I run through the sheets like I'm 5 years old
today
You got the natural wood grain with the big ol' 'fro
your fresh 15's got me ridin' low
today
smile today
smile today
smile today
smile
today
See you got this new man
who treats you wrong
but I'ma do you good before your youth's been gone
today
and if you feelin' kinda grey
I understand
emotions sway but I'm still your friend
today
You got bugs in your house
that you let run free
but if they don't bug you then they don't bug me
today
See, I respect you and you respect me back
so I'ma make sure I put my trash in the sack
today
smile today
smile today..
(feel good today)
In origin brown you look so young
so let's spend the night 'n tell purple to come
today
and I'ma sing you a song so play that track
with the creekers in the back that so abstract
today
and as I take a deep breath
I close my eyes
I say a little prayer for the sun to rise
today
(tomorrow)
and I see in the morning all bright and fresh
and I'll be the girl in the yellow dress
new day, new day
smile today
smile today
...
song performed by by Erykah Badu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Muhsin smile
Muhsin:
Smile and make the world shine
Smile and make the peace dominate the whole world
Smile and make the flowers spread its nectar
Smile and make the glovers express their feelings
Smile and make the crops exude
Smile and make me feel the life
Smile and make me test the love
Smile and keep smile you make me survive
poem by Mohammed AlBalushi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your Bright Baby Blues
I'm sitting down by the highway
Down by that highway side
Everybody's going somewhere
Riding just as fast as they can ride
I guess they've got a lot to do
Before they can rest assured
Their lives are justified
Pray to god for me baby
He can let me slide
'cause i've been up and down this highway
Far as my eyes can see
No matter how fast i run
I can never seem to get away from me
No matter where i am
I can't help feeling i'm just a day away
From where i want to be
Now i'm running home baby
Like a river to the sea
Baby if you can see me
Out across this wilderness
There's just one thing
I was hoping you might guess
Baby you can free me
All in the power of your sweet tenderness
I can see it in your eyes
You've got those bright baby blues
You don't see what you've got to gain
But you don't like to lose
You watch yourself from the sidelines
Like your life is a game you don't mind playing
To keep yourself amused
I don't mean to be cruel baby
But you're looking confused
Baby if you can hear me
Turn down your radio
There's just one thing
I want you to know
When you've been near me
I've felt the love stirring in my soul
It's so hard to come by
That feeling of peace
This friend of mine said
"close your eyes, and try a few of these"
I thought i flying like a bird
So far above my sorrow
But when i looked down
I was standing on my knees
Now i need someone to help me
Someone to help me please
Baby if you need me
Like i know i need you
There's just one thing
I'll ask you to do
Take my hand and lead me
To the hole in your garden wall
And pull me through
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Red Mist
SHE thinks aloud as she sits alone,
And the magpies call in the evening grey —
Oh, sorrow to her with the heart of stone
Who stole my lover away, away!
There is no peace in the light of the moon,
And little enough in the shine of the sun;
And it's grieving and grieving that darkens the noon,
And troubles me sore till the salt tears run.
There's Joyce with the red cheeks says to me,
Herself as gay as a crowned young queen:
'It's pale you are, and it's sick, maybe;
And what is it ails your heart, Noreen?'
At that I say, with a laugh in my voice
(For grief is an ill, dark thing to show):
'It's you with your tricks and your capers, Joyce,
And the imp in your eyes that makes me so.'
There's one and another from near and far
Who come with their kind, sweet neighbour-speech;
'It's sick you look, and it's pale you are;
And what have you done with your bloom of the peach?'
I sit and listen, but may not tell;
As an actor plays, I play my part;
It's little they'd care (as my heart knows well),
If they but knew the hurt of my heart.
And even Joyce, who is kind as kind,
Would make a jest of my pain, perchance;
For a feather afloat on an idle wind
Means more to the world than a spoiled romance.
If I were a man I would do so much —
Be brave, make light of my weight of care,
Bring ease to my mind with a master-touch,
And find fit food for my heart elsewhere.
Yet soft and shy as a cooing dove
(For that he thought me, and thinks me yet)
I cannot rest for remembering love,
Nor dream of a time when I may forget.
I think of his kisses that warmed like wine
When the low night-winds in the pine trees played,
And the lilies, white in the white moonshine,
A startling light in the garden made.
I think of his voice in those honeyed hours,
And wonder if words are flowers sometimes,
All scent and colour — are chiming flowers
That thrill the blood with their magic chimes
And then, the thought of the Other comes,
Her wiles and wonder and luring lies,
And the blood in my ears is a throb of drums,
And a red mist glimmers before my eyes.
And I go to the place where the thing lies hid,
And its blade takes fire at my burning touch;
And I say to myself: 'If the world were rid
Of three lives more, would it matter much?
'Would it matter much in the big world's sight
If the sorry farce to the end were played.
And three ghosts trod through the Outer Night —
The Loved, the Lover, the Love Betrayed?
'If one that suffers and two that sing
Were made cold clay, were it well or ill?'
And I grasp the haft of the jewelled thing,
And stand in the lamplight pale and still.
And then I shudder, and sob and sink,
And lie, eyes hid, with the light turned low,
Like one who stands on an awful brink,
Wild-eyed, and trembling, and breathing slow;
And then comes Joyce with her joyous cries:
'Come out in the night, come dance with me!'
And I smooth my hair and I soothe my eyes —
But I know what the end of it all shall be.
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As bright as the biggest star
As bright as the biggest star
in that dark night,
your smile lasted
much longer
than just for a while.
With the moon
straying away
to romance at another place,
night came sooner
than was expected
and your lips
was soft and sweet
upon mine.
Somewhere a bird called
for its mate,
and the night was young
and our love
was again fresh and new
and I wiped tears
from your eyes
that fell like the evening dew.
Somehow everything
was again all right
between me and you
and the sparkle was back
in your eyes
and there was passion
in your touch
and when the moon came
you were mine again.
I thanked the gods
for your spirit
had returned from the place
where it went to hide
and life was great
and just too much
for both of us.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flightless Bird
My world is caged in,
I can not fly away,
I can not soar in the clouds,
With the wind and the angels.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
I sit here day in and day out,
I watch so many people coming in and going out,
They stay here so happy so proud,
And they leave again without any care in the world.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
I remember each face,
I remember them all saying hi waiting for a reply of hello,
They don’t understand how it feels,
They don’t understand what it’s like.
To be a flightless bird with clipped wings.
Wings tucked and head held high I sit here,
I wear a smile on my face and I keep myself beautiful and happy,
But inside all I can see are the bars that surround me,
I can’t get past them I can only sit.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
My world is a room full of people myself the center of attention,
Although I should not complain for this is my life,
And I make them smile I make the children laugh and look in my eyes,
And sometimes they look into my eyes and see my world through my eyes.
They know I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
They’ll stand and watch me as I walk around in my cage,
They’ll be there with me and try to understand.
Then they’ll have to leave and they’ll look over their shoulders.,
And they look into my eyes one last time,
Before they fly away into the world to bring back stories for the flightless bird with clipped wings,
They are my connection to the world,
They show me what they see through their eyes,
They show me wonders and beauties of a world I’ve never seen,
They are my window to the outside,
In their mind I can be a flightless bird in a world of wonder and of flight.
I am only a small bird in a cage that sits in a hotel,
Sits and watches as the world around me fly’s by,
I wait for the occasional stranger who looks into my eyes with knowing,
Maybe a person who is like me like a flightless bird in a cage,
They are my wings, the wings of a flightless bird who’s wings are clipped.
I sit in my own world and watch as it all moves by,
Day after day I watch and I say what is expected of me,
I sit in my world and I go on my own steady journey,
A journey in which I am a silent observer,
A flightless bird with clipped wings in a world of ever changing skies.
By: Bethany Maxwell
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Madeline in Church
Here, in the darkness, where this plaster saint
Stands nearer than God stands to our distress,
And one small candle shines, but not so faint
As the far lights of everlastingness,
I'd rather kneel than over there, in open day
Where Christ is hanging, rather pray
To something more like my own clay,
Not too divine;
For, once, perhaps my little saint
Before he got his niche and crown,
Had one short stroll about the town;
It brings him closer, just that taint—
And anyone can wash the paint
Off our poor faces, his and mine!
Is that why I see Monty now? equal to any saint, poor boy, as good as gold,
But still, with just the proper trace
Of earthliness on his shining wedding face;
And then gone suddenly blank and old
The hateful day of the divorce:
Stuart got his, hands down, of course
Crowing like twenty cocks and grinning like a horse:
But Monty took it hard. All said and done I liked him best,—
He was the first, he stands out clearer than the rest.
It seems too funny all we other rips
Should have immortal souls; Monty and Redge quite damnably
Keep theirs afloat while we go down like scuttled ships.—
It's funny too, how easily we sink,
One might put up a monument, I think
To half the world and cut across it "Lost at Sea!"
I should drown Jim, poor little sparrow, if I netted him to-night—
No, it's no use this penny light—
Or my poor saint with his tin-pot crown—
The trees of Calvary are where they were,
When we are sure that we can spare
The tallest, let us go and strike it down
And leave the other two still standing there.
I, too, would ask Him to remember me
If there were any Paradise beyond this earth that I could see.
Oh! quiet Christ who never knew
The poisonous fangs that bite us through
And make us do the things we do,
See how we suffer and fight and die,
How helpless and how low we lie,
God holds You, and You hang so high,
Though no one looking long at You,
Can think You do not suffer too,
But, up there, from your still, star-lighted tree
What can You know, what can You really see
Of this dark ditch, the soul of me!
We are what we are: when I was half a child I could not sit
Watching black shadows on green lawns and red carnations burning in the sun,
Without paying so heavily for it
That joy and pain, like any mother and her unborn child were almost one.
I could hardly bear
The dreams upon the eyes of white geraniums in the dusk,
The thick, close voice of musk,
The jessamine music on the thin night air,
Or, sometimes, my own hands about me anywhere —
The sight of my own face (for it was lovely then) even the scent of my own hair,
Oh! there was nothing, nothing that did not sweep to the high seat
Of laughing gods, and then blow down and beat
My soul into the highway dust, as hoofs do the dropped roses of the street.
I think my body was my soul,
And when we are made thus
Who shall control
Our hands, our eyes, the wandering passion of our feet,
Who shall teach us
To thrust the world out of our heart: to say, till perhaps in death,
When the race is run,
And it is forced from us with our last breath
"Thy will be done"?
If it is Your will that we should be content with the tame, bloodless things.
As pale as angels smirking by, with folded wings—
Oh! I know Virtue, and the peace it brings!
The temperate, well-worn smile
The one man gives you, when you are evermore his own:
And afterwards the child's, for a little while,
With its unknowing and all-seeing eyes
So soon to change, and make you feel how quick
The clock goes round. If one had learned the trick—
(How does one though?) quite early on,
Of long green pastures under placid skies,
One might be walking now with patient truth.
What did we ever care for it, who have asked for youth,
When, oh! my God! this is going or has gone?
There is a portrait of my mother, at nineteen,
With the black spaniel, standing by the garden seat,
The dainty head held high against the painted green
And throwing out the youngest smile, shy, but half haughty and half sweet.
Her picture then: but simply Youth, or simply Spring
To me to-day: a radiance on the wall,
So exquisite, so heart-breaking a thing
Beside the mask that I remember, shrunk and small,
Sapless and lined like a dead leaf,
All that was left of oh! the loveliest face, by time and grief!
And in the glass, last night, I saw a ghost behind my chair—
Yet why remember it, when one can still go moderately gay—?
Or could—with any one of the old crew,
But oh! these boys! the solemn way
They take you and the things they say—
This "I have only as long as you"
When you remind them you are not precisely twenty-two—
Although at heart perhaps—God! if it were
Only the face, only the hair!
If Jim had written to me as he did to-day
A year ago—and now it leaves me cold—
I know what this means, old, old, old:
Et avec ça—mais on a vécu, tout se paie.
That is not always true: there was my Mother (well at least the dead are free!)
Yoked to the man that Father was; yoked to the woman I am, Monty too;
The little portress at the Convent School, stewing in hell so patiently;
The poor, fair boy who shot himself at Aix. And what of me—and what of me ?
But I, I paid for what I had, and they for nothing. No, one cannot see
How it shall be made up to them in some serene eternity.
If there were fifty heavens God could not give us back the child who went or never came;
Here, on our little patch of this great earth, the sun of any darkened day.
Not one of all the starry buds hung on the hawthorn trees of last year's May,
No shadow from the sloping fields of yesterday;
For every hour they slant across the hedge a different way,
The shadows are never the same.
"Find rest in Him" One knows the parsons' tags—
Back to the fold, across the evening fields, like any flock of baa-ing sheep:
Yes, it may be, when He has shorn, led us to slaughter, torn the bleating soul in us to rags,
For so He giveth His belovèd sleep.
Oh! He will take us stripped and done,
Driven into His heart. So we are won:
Then safe, safe are we? in the shelter of His everlasting wings—
I do not envy Him his victories, His arms are full of broken things.
But I shall not be in them. Let Him take
The finer ones, the easier to break.
And they are not gone, yet, for me, the lights, the colours, the perfumes,
Though now they speak rather in sumptuous rooms.
In silks and in gemlike wines;
Here, even, in this corner where my little candle shines
And overhead the lancet-window glows
With golds and crimsons you could almost drink
To know how jewels taste, just as I used to think
There was the scent in every red and yellow rose
Of all the sunsets. But this place is grey,
And much too quiet. No one here,
Why, this is awful, this is fear!
Nothing to see, no face.
Nothing to hear except your heart beating in space
As if the world was ended. Dead at last!
Dead soul, dead body, tied together fast.
These to go on with and alone, to the slow end:
No one to sit with, really, or to speak to, friend to friend:
Out of the long procession, black or white or red
Not one left now to say "Still I am here, then see you, dear, lay here your head".
Only the doll's house looking on the Park
To-night, all nights, I know, when the man puts the lights out, very dark.
With, upstairs, in the blue and gold box of a room, just the maids' footsteps overhead,
Then utter silence and the empty world—the room—the bed—
The corpse! No, not quite dead, while this cries out in me.
But nearly: very soon to be
A handful of forgotten dust—
There must be someone. Christ! there must,
Tell me there will be someone. Who?
If there were no one else, could it be You?
How old was Mary out of whom you cast
So many devils? Was she young or perhaps for years
She had sat staring, with dry eyes, at this and that man going past
Till suddenly she saw You on the steps of Simon's house
And stood and looked at You through tears.
I think she must have known by those
The thing, for what it was that had come to her.
For some of us there is a passion, I suppose,
So far from earthly cares and earthly fears
That in its stillness you can hardly stir
Or in its nearness, lift your hand,
So great that you have simply got to stand
Looking at it through tears, through tears.
Then straight from these there broke the kiss,
I think You must have known by this
The thing, for what it was, that had come to You:
She did not love You like the rest,
It was in her own way, but at the worst, the best,
She gave You something altogether new.
And through it all, from her, no word,
She scarcely saw You, scarcely heard:
Surely You knew when she so touched You with her hair,
Or by the wet cheek lying there,
And while her perfume clung to You from head to feet all through the day
That You can change the things for which we care,
But even You, unless You kill us, not the way.
This, then was peace for her, but passion too.
I wonder was it like a kiss that once I knew,
The only one that I would care to take
Into the grave with me, to which if there were afterwards, to wake.
Almost as happy as the carven dead
In some dim chancel lying head by head
We slept with it, but face to face, the whole night through—
One breath, one throbbing quietness, as if the thing behind our lips was endless life,
Lost, as I woke, to hear in the strange earthly dawn, his "Are you there?"
And lie still, listening to the wind outside, among the firs.
So Mary chose the dream of Him for what was left to her of night and day,
It is the only truth: it is the dream in us that neither life nor death nor any other
thing can take away:
But if she had not touched Him in the doorway of the dream could she have
cared so much ?
She was a sinner, we are what we are: the spirit afterwards, but first the touch.
And He has never shared with me my haunted house beneath the trees
Of Eden and Calvary, with its ghosts that have not any eyes for tears,
And the happier guests who would not see, or if they did, remember these,
Though they lived there a thousand years.
Outside, too gravely looking at me. He seems to stand,
And looking at Him, if my forgotten spirit came
Unwillingly back, what could it claim
Of those calm eyes, that quiet speech,
Breaking like a slow tide upon the beach,
The scarred, not quite human hand ?—
Unwillingly back to the burden of old imaginings
When it has learned so long not to think, not to be,
Again, again it would speak as it has spoken to me of things
That I shall not see!
I cannot bear to look at this divinely bent and gracious head:
When I was small I never quite believed that He was dead:
And at the Convent school I used to lie awake in bed
Thinking about His hands. It did not matter what they said,
He was alive to me, so hurt, so hurt! And most of all in Holy Week
When there was no one else to see
I used to think it would not hurt me too, so terribly,
If He had ever seemed to notice me
Or, if, for once, He would only speak.
poem by Charlotte Mary Mew
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Jester of Joy
I am the Jester of Joy,
A nomad of peace,
From the Land of Not.
Entertainer of souls,
A servant to man.
I am the Jester of Joy,
Mine is to spread joy through the world.
I make they who smile, laugh,
They who sulk, smile,
And I can try the tears of they who cry.
I am the Jester of Joy,
I reach out to touch at least one person,
To touch their heart with love.
I strive to touch for at least a moment,
To fill their life with joy.
I am the Jester of Joy,
And I have dream,
Of the world seeing as I do,
Through the eyes of joy,
For the better world it would be.
I am the Jester of Joy,
This is my purpose, my life, me.
For I am a servant to man,
Entertainer of souls,
The Jester of Joy.
poem by Steven SRS
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Smile For A Better Day
To touch a life can be simple
it just takes you to make it work
a hand shake, a smile, a hello
or just be polite, give a needy hand
so simple but so hard in life today
people are in a hurry, don't want to be bothered
no time for strangers, little time friends or co workers
take the time, it can be fun and bring a smile
make it away were you leave them thinking
people are friendly no matter when or where
a smile, a hello, a shock look of surprise
as you walk a way. they think how pleasant that was
how you made their day better and that really matters
a simple gesture can change a frown to a smirk to a big smile
make time to say a simple hello, shake a hand or a smile
could make anyone's day a better day, especially yours
poem by Michael Peterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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