Freo
Goddess Freo charms hearts fertile;
Forming entwined fates.
Crowned with summer's life giving sun;
Breath she'll seize on sight.
In fragrant blossom and flowers,
She is to be found.
Cures for sorrow in her do seek;
Know love seldom seen.
Muse-sounds she makes so sweet and soft;
Moving to be heard,
Pride of heroes on paths to walk;
Promised by one's days,
Mortal pleasures and man's great wants,
Masses in the mind,
Put forth gifts to please heaven's belle;
Praise duly her name.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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Related quotes
Your Hero
The heroes of the masses they live for their renown
And the masses create their heroes and then drag their heroes down
And the masses are unpredictable they change from day to day
And some of their heroes like the Autumn flowers are quick to fade away.
Yet there are millions of unsung heroes and they live on every street
And every day a hero I feel privileged to meet
True heroes male and female yet by the masses unsung
The World is full of heroes of heroes old and young.
Some heroes of the masses are arrogant and proud
And their egos over-swollen from the adulation of the crowd
But give me the unsung heroes who go their own quiet way
Who out of the kindness of their hearts perform one good deed every day.
Many heroes of the masses are not heroes to me
Though every day I walk the street some true hero I do see
Your hero is chauffeur driven and drinks the most expensive wine
And you can have your hero but your hero isn't mine.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So long, too long!
So long, too long!
Back in the days and back in time;
Struggling from the roots of Africa to identify myself;
But, born in 1961! !
So long, too long!
From yesterday with my muse of love;
And like today with the problems of the earth,
But, is this the future? ! !
The African story,
The African struggle,
The African muse,
The African experience,
The African hardships,
With the hustle and bustle to identify myself to the status of this world;
But, i am still moving on without giving up! !
For, nobody knows tomorrow.
So long, too long!
But, all the fingers are not equal;
And like the movements of the snail and tortoise,
However, i will surely reach there when you also do get there.
This life,
This muse,
This continent,
This mind,
This writer and his story! !
But, it has taken me so long, too long!
This is my life,
This is my muse,
This is my mind,
This is myact,
And, i am now presenting my love to you;
But, it has taken me so long, too long!
1961,
Born in Africa;
Yes, from 1961 to the present time! !
Struggling to make ends meet;
And, like the life seen in the slums of Africa!
But, it has taken me so long, too long! !
Africa, Africa, Africa, Africa! ! !
The land of my birth and my homeland;
But, i am still finding my way through the dark forest to represent myself to the world,
With hopes and dreams every now ansd then without giving up!
But, it has taken me so long, too long! !
Back in the days,
Oh yes! ! And, like the days of yesterday gone by;
But today, you can read my lines to know who i am!
And like the muse of sweet love in the land of peace,
But, it has taken me so long, too long!
This is it,
This is me,
That is it,
That is my muse,
Here i am and, this is my mind! !
With the sweet love from my heart brewed in the African Pot;
Touching the minds of many and, ready to educate others,
But, it has taken me so long, too long!
Come and enter into my world so sweet with your love,
Come and taste the muse of my love with your mind,
And like the aroma of sweet love from the bed of roses;
Where, the delight of love is crowned with peace and care,
But, this journey on this earth started from my mother's womb.
Oh yes! ! in the land of Africa to represent my muse;
Out of the womb of my mother to cry out to the world! !
And like the tears of love in the land of beautiful flowers,
However, it has taken me so long, too long!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Summer Time Blues
Try to add perfumes to your minds to meet me there,
The summer is here and it is with the blues;
You are not alone on this hot summer night.
We havethe natural fragrant to keep us going,
The summer time blues to swing with the muse;
You are not alone without the blues.
Scents for your love,
Mid-Summer-Night blues to your taste;
Enjoy the summer with the safety of numbers.
Summer time blues,
The fragrant of love to keep you going;
Summer, summer, summer time! !
Summer time blues,
The summer of a muse;
Summer time blues,
The summer of a poem;
With relationships that moves you up.
Summer time blues,
With the heat waves to crown the day;
Perfume your body to meet up to the act.
Let us visit Copacabana and Ipanema this summer,
Of the rocky promontory at sight to give you hope;
Like the summer time blues with your lover.
It is summer time,
Visit the beaches to see things for yourselves;
Summer, summer, summer time! !
Meet me there and touch me with your heart.
A summer time love with the blues,
Like the golden grape of my soul;
Summer is the essence of a colourful life.
The sense of reality in times like this,
The heat with love to share with others;
Where the hearts of lovers do meet like,
One's love never touched before.
Summer time blues is all about this muse,
A time of love to share with your lover;
Summer, summer, summer time! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Translated from Geibel
O say, thou wild, thou oft deceived heart,
What mean these noisy throbbings in my breast?
After thy long, unutterable woe
Wouldst thou not rest?
Fall'n from Life's tree the sweet rose-blossom lies,
And fragrant youth has fled. What made to seem
This earth as fair to thee as Paradise,
Was all a dream.
The blossom fell, the thorn was left to me;
Deep from the wound the blood-drops ever flow,
All that I have are yearnings, wild desires,
And wrath and woe.
They brought me Lethe's water, saying, 'Drink!'
'Drink, for the draught is sweet,' I heard them say,
'Shalt learn how soft a thing forgetting is.'
I answered : 'Nay.'
What tho' indeed it were an idle cheat,
Nathless to me 'twas very fair and blest:
With every breath I draw I know that love
Reigns in my breast.
Let me go forth,--and thou, my heart, bleed on:
A lonely spot I seek by night and day,
That love and sorrow I may there breathe forth
In a last lay.
Summer flowers
Flowers so colourful and bright,
In their glory in the sun's light,
At home amid the summer's heat,
Giving out a perfume so sweet,
The summer flowers are perfect,
In near enough every aspect,
So effortlessly they distract,
As one's attention they attract,
Countless different kinds carve their mark,
Throughout every meadow and park,
There for us to enjoy and pick,
As we waste our days and frolic,
Such beautiful gifts flowers make,
Though not when sentiments are fake,
They prevent scenes from seeming bleak,
When they're absent they're what we seek.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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Fifteenth Sunday After Trinity
Sweet nurslings of the vernal skies,
Bathed in soft airs, and fed with dew,
What more than magic in you lies,
To fill the heart's fond view?
In childhood's sports, companions gay,
In sorrow, on Life's downward way,
How soothing! in our last decay
Memorials prompt and true.
Relics ye are of Eden's bowers,
As pure, as fragrant, and as fair,
As when ye crowned the sunshine hours
Of happy wanderers there.
Fall'n all beside--the world of life,
How is it stained with fear and strife!
In Reason's world what storms are rife,
What passions range and glare!
But cheerful and unchanged the while
Your first and perfect form ye show,
The same that won Eve's matron smile
In the world's opening glow.
The stars of heaven a course are taught
Too high above our human thought:
Ye may be found if ye are sought,
And as we gaze, we know.
Ye dwell beside our paths and homes,
Our paths of sin, our homes of sorrow,
And guilty man where'er he roams,
Your innocent mirth may borrow.
The birds of air before us fleet,
They cannot brook our shame to meet -
But we may taste your solace sweet
And come again to-morrow.
Ye fearless in your nests abide -
Nor may we scorn, too proudly wise,
Your silent lessons, undescried
By all but lowly eyes:
For ye could draw th' admiring gaze
Of Him who worlds and hearts surveys:
Your order wild, your fragrant maze,
He taught us how to prize.
Ye felt your Maker's smile that hour,
As when He paused and owned you good;
His blessing on earth's primal bower,
Ye felt it all renewed.
What care ye now, if winter's storm
Sweep ruthless o'er each silken form?
Christ's blessing at your heart is warm,
Ye fear no vexing mood.
Alas! of thousand bosoms kind,
That daily court you and caress,
How few the happy secret find
Of your calm loveliness!
"Live for to-day! to-morrow's light
To-morrow's cares shall bring to sight,
Go sleep like closing flowers at night,
And Heaven thy morn will bless."
poem by John Keble
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sweet Child
Your sweet child is sleeping but,
My sweet child is on the way;
So swift be thy flight oh my little one,
And like fresh shower for the thirsty flowers.
To rest on their mothers breasts and,
To feed on their mothers breasts;
And from love's shining circles on this issue,
But listen to the springs like a flowing music.
When friendship decays, true love lies withered;
But i will swing along with my child on the wings of love!
And like the blossom of the heavens with the gates of light.
Oh Isles of perfume,
In a vale of flowers to seek for your children;
And like a gift that is wrapped with love than hate,
For my muse will find a way to touch your hearts.
Life is like a child at play when her mother sleeps,
But in the land of roses i have found my love;
And with beautiful flowers singing to us for peace,
For in a humble prayer i will come to you with joy.
Oh lights of lovely scent afar,
Hymns of joy and sweet bed of flowers;
I married very late but,
I will like to see my grandchild before i die.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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20th Century Promised Land
Stories came like the wind
Joining every bridge in the wind
Ringing out footsteps
Calling out stell-heels
I give voice
I give breath
Count out evenings and stars
How fast can these things move on
Taking roots back to yourself
And the reason for fear was moving on
And on
Some time
Great times
Troubled time
Fire for the times
Ringing out footsteps
Calling out steel-heels
Promised land
Great times in commotion
Here come every day
It only lasts an hour
Unhappy the land that has no heroes
No! unhappy the land that needs heroes
And the reason for fear was moving on
The speed of light was moving on
Dont cry
Tears are only wasted waters
Some say God her only loves the proud
Be damned on luck
But not dishearted
Nothing to prove
And nothing to present
I give voice
I give breath
Catching winds in my hand
My hand
Some times
Great times
Catching wind in my hand
My hand
Some times
Great times
Troubled times
Fire for the times
Ringing out footsteps
Calling out steel-heels
Promised land
Great times in commotion
Here comes every dat
It only lasts an hour
Unhappy the land that has no heroes
No! unhappy the land that needs heroes
Ill call you out
Ill scream you out
And I dont care if youre afraid
When city sounds invade the air
Catch the wind in their hands
Promised land
Catch the wind in their hands
Promised lands
Promised lands
Promised lands
Great times in commotion
Lyrics : j kerr music : simple minds (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Summer Chimes and Summer Wines
Listening to the summer chimes,
Of summer sounds of summer time,
Bringing all that nature is,
That shows and sounds like,
Summer chimes,
Chimes of soft winds,
Chimes of soft river streams,
Sounds that say of that time and season,
That summer time sounds so sweet,
It rings the sounds of summer chimes,
With rays of sunlight streaming by,
Summer chimes with summer wines,
Can be the momentum interludes of summer times,
When summer time is to be,
There in natures places,
Full of bloom and hidden places,
Where,
Listening to the summer chimes,
Of summer time,
And sitting and drinking,
A summer wine,
With the summer chimes,
And summer wines,
With summer and its nature sounds,
Bringing out the musical chimes,
Of summer sounds,
Along with summer chance,
And the per chance that evolves,
Bringing summer chimes,
With summer wines,
Of true summer chance,
With love intwined,
And summer wine,
So if per chance,
To meet again,
That evolves and begins,
From summer meets,
Bringing that summer chance,
To summer chimes,
With summer wines,
That begins and lasts,
Within in the hearts of those,
That let per chance happen,
And fall in love,
Then it will continue all year long,
For those that took the chance,
In summer chance,
And let the per chance,
Take it course,
And win,
For love to hear,
The summer chimes,
Sipping summer wine.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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To Nettie
Now has the spring her treasures all unbound,
The earth has put her wedding-garment on,
And, robed in light, with flowers and verdure crowned,
Comes forth in joy to meet the bridegroom sun.
Thou, too, in thy young life's first bloom and pride,
Joyous as spring, fresh as the morning air,
Fair as the flowers of May, comest forth a bride,
And bowest thy head, Love's golden chain to wear.
Were mine the power, thy course of life should be
Serene and tranquil as the summer sky.
No wintry blast should rudely visit thee,
No tear of sorrow ever dim thine eye.
And when that hour should come, as come it must,
And thy long summer day draw to its close,
Filled with immortal hope and heavenly trust
Thou like the sun shouldst sink to thy repose.
Vain wish, for cloudless skies, life without tears!
A wiser, higher power controls thy fate.
Sorrow and joy are each his ministers;
And each alike on human footsteps wait.
Seek then his aid who was a man of grief,
Who bore the cross and won a crown for thee,
And thou shalt walk the troubled sea of life,
As once he walked the Sea of Galilee.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Pleasure XXIV
Then a hermit, who visited the city once a year, came forth and said, "Speak to us of Pleasure."
And he answered, saying:
Pleasure is a freedom song,
But it is not freedom.
It is the blossoming of your desires,
But it is not their fruit.
It is a depth calling unto a height,
But it is not the deep nor the high.
It is the caged taking wing,
But it is not space encompassed.
Ay, in very truth, pleasure is a freedom-song.
And I fain would have you sing it with fullness of heart; yet I would not have you lose your hearts in the singing.
Some of your youth seek pleasure as if it were all, and they are judged and rebuked.
I would not judge nor rebuke them. I would have them seek.
For they shall find pleasure, but not her alone:
Seven are her sisters, and the least of them is more beautiful than pleasure.
Have you not heard of the man who was digging in the earth for roots and found a treasure?
And some of your elders remember pleasures with regret like wrongs committed in drunkenness.
But regret is the beclouding of the mind and not its chastisement.
They should remember their pleasures with gratitude, as they would the harvest of a summer.
Yet if it comforts them to regret, let them be comforted.
And there are among you those who are neither young to seek nor old to remember;
And in their fear of seeking and remembering they shun all pleasures, lest they neglect the spirit or offend against it.
But even in their foregoing is their pleasure.
And thus they too find a treasure though they dig for roots with quivering hands.
But tell me, who is he that can offend the spirit?
Shall the nightingale offend the stillness of the night, or the firefly the stars?
And shall your flame or your smoke burden the wind?
Think you the spirit is a still pool which you can trouble with a staff?
Oftentimes in denying yourself pleasure you do but store the desire in the recesses of your being.
Who knows but that which seems omitted today, waits for tomorrow?
Even your body knows its heritage and its rightful need and will not be deceived.
And your body is the harp of your soul,
And it is yours to bring forth sweet music from it or confused sounds.
And now you ask in your heart, "How shall we distinguish that which is good in pleasure from that which is not good?"
Go to your fields and your gardens, and you shall learn that it is the pleasure of the bee to gather honey of the flower,
But it is also the pleasure of the flower to yield its honey to the bee.
For to the bee a flower is a fountain of life,
And to the flower a bee is a messenger of love,
And to both, bee and flower, the giving and the receiving of pleasure is a need and an ecstasy.
People of Orphalese, be in your pleasures like the flowers and the bees.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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A Sweet Comparison Between Flowers And Us
Flowers blossom in the sunlight,
As we all need sunlight to blossom
too.
Flowers love a good shower of
cool and refreshing water,
Like we all need a refreshing
shower too.
Flowers are cheerful when music
plays that beautiful song,
In the same way that favorite
song cheers us up.
The breeze of the wind gives us
that breath of life,
Flowers are filled with the
breath of life,
That the breeze provides.
Delicate flowers lose their petals
in need of nourishment,
Just like we lose a strand of hair
that needs to be nourished to grow
back again.
A good night's sleep help us to feel
refreshed,
Flowers need a good night's sleep
to feel refreshed and to blossom
beautifully.
A sweet comparison between flowers
and us,
Knowing how we are very much alike,
It makes a beautiful story.
poem by Derek James
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April
April, pride of woodland ways,
Of glad days,
April, bringing hope of prime,
To the young flowers that beneath
Their bud sheath
Are guarded in their tender time;
April, pride of fields that be
Green and free,
That in fashion glad and gay,
Stud with flowers red and blue,
Every hue,
Their jewelled spring array;
April, pride of murmuring
Winds of spring,
That beneath the winnowed air,
Trap with subtle nets and sweet
Flora’s feet,
Flora’s feet, the fleet and fair;
April, by thy hand caressed,
From her breast
Nature scatters everywhere
Handfuls of all sweet perfumes,
Buds and blooms,
Making faint the earth and air.
April, joy of the green hours,
Clothes with flowers
Over all her locks of gold
My sweet Lady; and her breast
With the blest
Birds of summer manifold.
April, with thy gracious wiles,
Like the smiles,
Smiles of Venus; and thy breath
Like her breath, the Gods’ delight,
(From their height
They take the happy air beneath)
It is thou that, of thy grace,
From their place
In the far-oft isles dost bring
Swallows over earth and sea,
Glad to be
Messengers of thee, and Spring.
Daffodil and eglantine,
And woodbine,
Lily, violet, and rose
Plentiful in April fair,
To the air,
Their pretty petals do unclose.
Nightingales ye now may hear,
Piercing clear,
Singing in the deepest shade;
Many and many a babbled note
Chime and float,
Woodland music through the glade.
April, all to welcome thee,
Spring sets free
Ancient flames, and with low breath
Wakes the ashes grey and old
That the cold
Chilled within our hearts to death.
Thou beholdest in the warm
Hours, the swarm
Of the thievish bees, that flies
Evermore from bloom to bloom
For perfume,
Hid away in tiny thighs.
Her cool shadows May can boast,
Fruits almost
Ripe, and gifts of fertile dew,
Manna-sweet and honey-sweet,
That complete
Her flower garland fresh and new.
Nay, but I will give my praise,
To these days,
Named with the glad name of Her
That from out the foam o’ the sea
Came to be
Sudden light on earth and air.
poem by Remy Belleau
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lovina
My birth place is the Earth but,
I am preparing myself to go to heaven;
For the sun is shining on me and the flowers are blooming to respect my muse,
But the hope of the unseen heaven is all that i have in mind.
I am preparing myself to go to heaven!
And like the sound of silence and the sound of love;
But the troubles of this Earth are like the sounds of war and the sound of peace,
And like the golden banana and the golden pineapples.
I have to run faster trhan the lion!
Because, i need to overcome the troubles around me to reach the heavens;
But, this Earth is my birthplace.
I am now reaching to heaven! !
And i am very hot like a trip from Oshodi to Yaba in Lagos (Nigeria):
But, my lovely name is Lovina,
And you are as cold as ever.
There is always the power to love and the power of dreams,
And like a monkey hanging on a tree;
But, you are like a gold miner ready for my love,
However, the hope of this unseen heaven is always in my mind.
I have the code of the heaven's gate to share with you,
And like my love so sweet in the land of peace and beauty;
But pride comes before a fall in life,
However, i will get off on this dream to get to heaven!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Brand New Start
When I think of all of the things hes doin for me,
It makes me stand in wonder at what hes making me to be.
Tryin to walk through straight, but getting turned around,
Always makin the master take a backseat and wait around.
But I praise the lord for giving me a brand new start each day,
And I praise his blessed name for guiding me all along the way.
If he didnt, I wouldnt even try.
Well maybe you cant see a change, you know these things can take time.
But now that Ive found jesus, well hes given me peace of mind.
Now evry days just a chance to grow close to him,
I may not win all the battles, but its a victory in him.
Well I praise the lord for giving me a brand new start each day,
And I praise his blessed name for guiding me all along the way.
If he didnt, I would surely die.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Garland
The pride of every grove I chose,
The violet sweet and lily fair,
The dappled pink and blushing rose,
To deck my charming Cloe's hair.
At morn the nymph vouchsafed to place
Upon her brow the various wreath;
The flowers less blooming than her face,
The scent less fragrant than her breath.
The flowers she wore along the day,
And every nymph and shepherd said,
That in her hair they look'd more gay
Than glowing in their native bed.
Undress'd at evening, when she found
Their odours lost, their colours past,
She changed her look, and on the ground
Her garland and her eyes she cast.
That eye dropp'd sense distinct and clear
As any Muse's tongue could speak,
When from its lid a pearly tear
Ran trickling down her beauteous cheek.
Dissembling what I knew too well,
My love, my life, said I, explain
This change of humour; pr'ythee tell,
That falling tear - what does it mean?
She sigh'd, she smiled; and to the flowers
Pointing, the lovely moralist said,
See, friend, in some few fleeting hours,
See yonder what a change is made.
Ah me! the blooming pride of May
And that of Beauty are but one;
At morn both flourish bright and gay,
Both fade at evening, pale, and gone.
At dawn poor Stella danced and sung,
The amorous youth around her bow'd;
At night her fatal knell was rung;
I saw and kiss'd her in her shroud.
Such as she is who died to-day,
Such I, alas! may be to-morrow;
Go, Damon, bid thy Muse display
The justice of thy Cloe's sorrow.
poem by Matthew Prior
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christmas Hymn
O CHRIST, born on the holy day,
I have no gift to give my King;
No flowers grow by my weary way;
I have no birthday song to sing.
How can I sing Thy name and praise,
Who never saw Thy face divine;
Who walk in darkness all my days,
And see no Eastern stars a-shine?
Yet, when their Christmas gifts they bring,
How can I leave Thy praise unsung?
How stay from homage to the King,
And hold a silent, grudging tongue?
Lord, I found many a song to sing,
And many a humble hymn of praise
For Thy great Miracle of Spring,
The wonder of the waxing days.
When I beheld Thy days and years,
Did I not sing Thy pleasant earth?
The moons of love, the years of tears,
The mysteries of death and birth?
Have I not sung with all my soul
While soul and song were mine to yield,
Thy lightning crown, Thy cloud-control,
The dewy clover of Thy field?
Have I not loved Thy birds and beasts,
Thy streams and woods, Thy sun and shade;
Have I not made me holy feasts
Of all the beauty Thou hast made?
What though my tear-tired eyes, alas!
Won never grace Thy face to see?
I heard Thy footstep on the grass,
Thy voice in every wind-blown tree.
No music now I make or win,
Yet, Lord, remember I have been
The lover of Thy world, wherein
I found nought common or unclean.
Grown old and blind, I sing no more,
Thy saints in heaven sing sweet and strong,
Yet take the songs I made of yore
For echoes to Thy birthday song.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Take My Breath Away
Take My Breath Away
lyrics: If I had castles built on high
I'd find a million ways to write your name against the sky
Just to let you know you caught my eye
If I had more than wealth could buy
I'd sell it all and start again for just one chance with you
Girl I'd give my all to win your love
And I would be rich
And I would build all my world around you
Just to show you
How you take my breath away
And you would find love sweet lady
Nobody else this side of Heaven knows
How you take my breath away
If I could turn the day to night
If I had faith to walk on water maybe you would see
The reason I thank God for miracles
Cause baby when you walked into sight
You turned an ordinary man like me into a king
I would give anything to win your love
And I would be rich
And I would build all my world around you
Just to show you
How you take my breath away
And you would find love sweet lady
Nobody else this side of Heaven knows
How you take my breath away
I think there's something here worth saying
I don't want to scare you
So let me make my wish and hope that you believe
In simple love like I do
Say that it's true baby
'Cause you got me shaking
My breath has now been taken
I've got to overcome this aching
To win your love
And I would be rich
And I would build all my world around you
Just to show you
How you take my breath away
And you would find love sweet lady
Nobody else this side of Heaven knows
How you take my breath away
Take my breath
Take my breath
Take my breath
How you take my breath
Take my breath
Take my breath
Take my breath
How you take my breath away
And I would be rich
And I would build all my world around you
Just to show you
How you take my breath away
And you would find love sweet lady
Nobody else this side of Heaven knows
How you take my breath away
Take my breath
Take my breath
Take my breath
How you take my breath
song performed by by 98 Degrees from 98 Degrees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Endless Love
(lionel richie)
My love
There's only you in my life
The only thing that's right
My first love
You're every breath that i take
You're every step i make
And i
I want to share
All my love with you
No one else will do
And your eyes
They tell me how much you care
Oh, yes you will always be
My endless love
Two hearts
Two hearts that beat as one
Our lives had just begun
Forever
I'll hold you close in my arms
I can't resist your charms
And love
I'll be a fool for you
I'm sure
You know i don't mind
You know i don't mind
'cause you
You mean the world to me
Oh, i know
I know i found in you
My endless love
Oh
And love
I'll be that fool for you
I'm sure
You know i don't mind
You know i don't mind
And yes
You'll be the only one
'cause no one can't deny
This love i have inside
And i'll give it all to you
My love
My endless love...
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As Resplendent As A Renoir!
I wish I could own a Renoir, a master of the arts.
You see, to me, he was a star! He's captured many hearts!
He had a sense of fun, that's true! He sensed Man's need, of course!
That's why he painted just for you! Life's promise to enforce!
We were not meant for cold, dark rooms! We seek out summer days!
We do not seek the dooms and glooms! We like the summer haze!
We thrive on picnics in the sun! We celebrate with friends!
We take that party spirit won until the evening ends!
We swim, we dance, we toast the joy that God put deep within!
We play with every girl and boy! Sometimes we let them win!
Yet most of all we look around! Exploring all the while!
Rejoicing at the gifts we've found that thrill us till we smile!
That's life! Not hiding in the house! Not sulking, life's not fair!
Not skulking round as if a mouse! But outside... everywhere!
The colours Nature shares are grand! The flowers bid us near!
The birds may glide down, softly land, as if they show no fear!
Why, then, can't we, enjoy life, too! ? Paint pictures like Renoir!
Who knows what artwork you can do? Just wish upon a star!
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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