Twist Me A Crown Of Wind-Flowers
Twist me a crown of wind-flowers;
That I may fly away
To hear the singers at their song,
And players at their play.
Put on your crown of wind-flowers:
But whither would you go?
Beyond the surging of the sea
And the storms that blow.
Alas! your crown of wind-flowers
Can never make you fly:
I twist them in a crown to-day,
And to-night they die.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Related quotes
A crown of flowers
A crown of flowers
~
I don a crown of flowers
To mask the sorrow inside
Eyes which fall upon its beauty
Do not see the tears I cry
While the flowers bud to blossom
I wilt to almost nothing
In a garden colour filled with life
There is also a shadow found
In the sun the flower buds open
In the dark a heart is closed
The flowers shall be woven together
To hide something left unseen
The rose, the tulip and the bluebell rise
I am envious of their beautiful life
So I don I crown of flowers
To mask my sorrow inside
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Wind Eternal And Ever Lasting Wind
Wind eternal and ever lasting Wind
Wherever on earth..there is the element wind
How powerful the strength of the wind
Uplifting a tremendeous deadly tidal wave
Pushing heavy clouds over mountain chain
Magically turning into heavy storm and rain
How fascinating the songs of the wind
Carrying up high the bird on spread wings
Looking almost like the shape of a fairy
So incredibly languishing and airy
How wonderful the feeling of decreasing wind
Blowing incessantly through the season of spring
Blooming flowers seem to shiver in a dance
As falling into a very special kind of trance
How enchanting to play with the wind
The heat blow still lingers
Kite surfs speeding up to be safe
Sails boat surfing on the crown of the wave
How subdued when watching the wind
Reminder of natural forces
Elements like earth wind and fire
For sure they will never ever tire
Wind eternal and ever lasting wind
wherever on earth..there is the element wind…..
poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
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Suzanne & The Jewels
Suzanne was the jewel keeper
In a word she stole all the jewels
And she took them to a foreign land
Which was strictly against all the rules
And she wore them all proudly
Like a tiara crown on her head
She slept with them at night
Suzanne and the jewels in a bed
Chorus:
Suzanne and her jewels
Livin on the edge of a friend
Suzanne, how will you sleep at night
When they take that crown from your head?
Suzanne lived down by the river
The fountain of youth did flow
And she played on a steel guitar
And the drifters did come and theyd go
And shed put on her crown
And shed sing them a song
And some drifters would stay here the night
But they never did stay long
Chorus:
Suzanne and her jewels
Livin on the edge of a friend
Suzanne, how will you sleep at night
When they take that crown from your head?
This girl flew on the wind
She wrote her own name in the stars
Just goes to show sometimes you win
No matter how crazy you are
But a thief can come knocking
Even with blood on the door
And drink up your fountain of youth
And throw your jewels and your crown on the floor
Chorus:
Suzanne and her jewels
Livin on the edge of a friend
Suzanne, how will you sleep at night
When they take that crown from your head?
Suzanne and her jewels
Livin on the edge of a friend
Suzanne, how will you sleep at night
When they take that crown off your head?
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The beauty of poetry
I am a woman painted by poetry
the picture captured between night and day
between a dropp and dropp of rain
a blow and blow of wind
a beam and beam of sun
the paint created by imagination of poetry
I use wind for seducing you
I use rain for wetting you
I use sunshine for warming your heart
I am poetry the woman like wind rain and sun
the picture captured between unreality and dream
I am fantasy I don't exist in this world
my home is the beauty of poetry
I am the beauty of poetry
the night wove for me the dress of moonlight
the flowers made for me the crown
happiness and sadness make up my face
my eyes glitter by tears
my lips gloss by smile
my heart lights the candles for strangers
who come to warm their hearts
by the beauty of poetry
poem by Ata Augustyn
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To Mistress Katharine Bradshaw, The Lovely, That Crowned Him With Laurel
My Muse in meads has spent her many hours
Sitting, and sorting several sorts of flowers,
To make for others garlands; and to set
On many a head here, many a coronet.
But amongst all encircled here, not one
Gave her a day of coronation;
Till you, sweet mistress, came and interwove
A laurel for her, ever young as Love.
You first of all crown'd her; she must, of due,
Render for that, a crown of life to you.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Twist
Well youve got me working so hard lately
Working my hands until they bleed
If I was twice the man I could be
Id still be half of what you need
Still you lead me and I follow
The small of your back up to your chin
Over to the tip of your switchblade
As you pull it out as you stick it in
(twist twist twist) it can go a little deeper
(twist twist twist) Im wear
T) it can go a little deeper
(twist twist twist) Im wearing these chains
(twist twist twist) you make it hurt real good
(twist twist twist) (but? ) I love the pain
(twist twist twist) it can go a little deeper
(twist twist twist) Im wearing these chains
(twist twist twist) you make it hurt real good
(twist twist twist) I love the pain
(twist twist twist)
(twist twist twist)
(twist twist twist)
(twist twist twist)
Turn it on
Quietly says:
Is this on? oh [questionable]
* Im so tired I cant get to sleep
* and the squeaking of the bed
* is right in time with the song thats
* repeating in my head
Its uncomforting to rember how you used to like a good f**k
Every once in awhile
* I just want(ed) you to know (that)
* when I do it, I only think of you
* = quoted from end of ringfinger (the extra lyrics printed at the end
Of the song in pretty hate machine)
song performed by by Nine Inch Nails
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What You Want Wid Bess?
Bess
Oh... what you want wid bess?
Shes gettin ole now;
Take a fine young gal
For to satisfy crown.
Look at this chest
An look at these arms you got.
You know how it always been with me,
These five years I been yo woman,
You could kick me in the street,
Then when you wanted me back,
You could whistle, an there I was
Back again, lickin yo hand.
Theres plenty better lookin gal than bess.
Can you see, Im with porgy,
Now and forever
I am his woman, he would die without me.
Oh, crown, wont you let me go to my man, to my man.
He is a cripple an needs my love, all my love.
What you want wid bess? oh, let me go to my man. . .
Crown
What I wants wid other woman,
I gots a woman, yes,
An dat is you, yes, dat is you, yes,
I need you now an youre mine jus as long as I want you.
No cripple goin take my woman from me.
You got a man tonight an that is crown, yes, crown, yes
Crown.
Youre my woman, bess, Im tellin you, now Im your man.
(pressing her very close)
Bess
What you want with bess?
(boat whistles)
Lemme go, crown dat boat, its goin wiout me!
Crown
You aint goin nowhere!
Bess
(weakening)
Take yo hands off me, I say, yo hands, yo hands, yo hands.
(crown kisses her passionately)
Crown
I knows you ain change - wid you and me it always be the
Same. git in dat thicket.
(bess backs into woods; crown follows.)
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dreamer
“Why do you seek the sun,
In your Bubble-Crown ascending?
Your chariot will melt to mist,
Your crown will have an ending.”
“Nay, sun is but a Bubble,
Earth is a whiff of Foam—
To my caves on the coast of Thule
Each night I call them home.
Thence Faiths blow forth to angels
And Loves blow forth to men—
They break and turn to nothing
And I make them whole again:
On the crested waves of chaos
I ride them back reborn:
New stars I bring at evening
For those that burst at morn:
My soul is the wind of Thule
And evening is the sign,
The sun is but a Bubble,
A fragile child of mine.”
poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Tennyson Fragment
So in the village inn the poet dwelt.
His honey-dew was gone; only the pouch,
His cousin's work, her empty labour, left.
But still he sniffed it, still a fragrance clung
And lingered all about the broidered flowers.
Then came his landlord, saying in broad Scotch,
`Smoke plug, mon,' whom he looked at doubtfully.
Then came the grocer saying, `Hae some twist
At tippence,' whom he answered with a qualm.
But when they left him to himself again,
Twist, like a fiend's breath from a distant room
Diffusing through the passage, crept; the smell
Deepening had power upon him, and he mixt
His fancies with the billow-lifted bay
Of Biscay, and the rollings of a ship.
And on that night he made a little song,
And called his song `The Song of Twist and Plug,'
And sang it; scarcely could he make or sing.
`Rank is black plug, though smoked in wind and rain;
And rank is twist, which gives no end of pain;
I know not which is ranker, no, not I.
`Plug, art thou rank? then milder twist must be;
Plug, thou art milder: rank is twist to me.
O twist, if plug be milder, let me buy.
`Rank twist, that seems to make me fade away,
Rank plug, that navvies smoke in loveless clay,
I know not which is ranker, no, not I.
`I fain would purchase flake, if that could be;
I needs must purchase plug, ah, woe is me!
Plug and a cutty, a cutty, let me buy.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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The Dolls Braided Her Hair
She wove ribbons in her hair,
the gold strands mixing with the red.
It help her naivety,
her innocence until she met Kindergarten
who tore the ribbons from her hair
and threw them to the wind.
He carried distant memories
even further from her.
She lost everything to the wind,
trading it for logic and friends.
They cut her hair and threw some into story books,
burning them before her eyes.
Her dolls cried alone in her room
as they huddled together,
braiding the hair that had been cut from her head.
It made a crown of red and gold strands.
She ignored the crown and it disintegrated.
Years later when her own daughter was
talking to the dolls,
they told her about the crown.
She cried, and they braided her hair,
weaving it with ribbons.
poem by Andrea Stuckey
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King
Now is the time to reach for the sky
Gather the wind hear the voice to fly
To know why they sing about heroes and kings
Who were brave and not afraid to die
Look and you'll see that a new day will bring
The will to go on and fight through endless suffering
For all who believe wait a crown a ring
The power of the man who would be king
The power of the man who would be king
Into the fight of hopes and dreams
The master of the wind knows nothing's what is seems
The melting of the soul the wish of those who scheme
The taking of the will by destroyers of the dream
They live to spread the fear of the wrong of right of self
They want us all to live like books upon a shelf
But we know we have the power to fight and make a stand
Strike when we are challenged all across the land to be king
Fight for the crown
song performed by by Manowar from Louder Than Hell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sometimes Wind Moves In Secret
Sometimes wind moves in secret
Like a lover or a moon
Sometimes a board will answer
Or a shutter or a loon
Sometimes wind answers itself
Like a woman at the mirror
And sometimes no one's present
Or unwilling to hear
Wind moans over graveyards
As if weeping for the dead
Wind howls at the windows
Like it wants you, in your bed
Wind steals kites of children
Without making any sound
And wind tears off your head scarf
But lifts hair, like a crown
Wind sighs round a lighthouse
Like a sailor blown off course
Wind whispers in the rigging
Like a breeze has lost its voice
Wind dies in the harbor
When the moon is sailing high
But wind sings before morning
When the twilight blush is nigh
poem by Patti Masterman
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La Corona
Deign at my hands this crown of prayer and praise,
Weaved in my lone devout melancholy,
Thou which of good hast, yea, art treasury,
All changing unchanged Ancient of days.
But do not with a vile crown of frail bays
Reward my Muse's white sincerity ;
But what Thy thorny crown gain'd, that give me,
A crown of glory, which doth flower always.
The ends crown our works, but Thou crown'st our ends,
For at our ends begins our endless rest.
The first last end, now zealously possess'd,
With a strong sober thirst my soul attends.
'Tis time that heart and voice be lifted high ;
Salvation to all that will is nigh.
poem by John Donne
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Flowers
(orbison/dees)
When I was a boy I ran among the flowers
Looking left and right at the bright array
I played through the spring, whiled away the hours
Lingered with the flowers every day
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
When the summer ends and the storms of life are over
When the winter comes and the petals fall away
They may write it on my stone, he was just a roller
But he stopped to pick some flowers along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, picked some flowers, along the way
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Queen of Bubbles
[Written for a picture]
The Youth speaks: —:
"Why do you seek the sun
In your bubble-crown ascending?
Your chariot will melt to mist.
Your crown will have an ending."
The Goddess replies: — :
"Nay, sun is but a bubble,
Earth is a whiff of foam —
To my caves on the coast of Thule
Each night I call them home.
Thence Faiths blow forth to angels
And loves blow forth to men —
They break and turn to nothing
And I make them whole again.
On the crested waves of chaos
I ride them back reborn:
New stars I bring at evening
For those that burst at morn:
My soul is the wind of Thule
And evening is the sign —
The sun is but a bubble,
A fragile child of mine."
poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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King Henry: My crown is in my heart, not on my head;
Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones,
Nor to be seen: my crown is called content:
A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.
line from Henry VI, Act III, Scene 1, script by William Shakespeare (1590)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Sonnet: The Wind
What shakes the trees so violently? ’Tis Wind;
What moves the clouds hither/ thither? ’Tis Wind;
What takes the tornado around? ’Tis Wind;
What brings the sandstorm on the earth? ’Tis Wind.
What makes the cool and gentle breeze? ’Tis Wind
What makes the boughs and leaves to dance? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the autumn leaves to fall? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the honey-bees to fly? ’Tis Wind.
What makes pollen reach in showers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the dust to climb towers? ’Tis Wind;
What spreads the perfume of flowers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the rain-clouds advance far? ’Tis Wind.
What makes the Wind to blow? ’Tis God;
What makes a Tempest stop? ’ Tis our Lord.
7-18-2001
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song of The Rose
F Zeus chose us a King of the flowers in his mirth,
He would call to the rose, and would royally crown it;
For the rose, ho, the rose! is the grace of the earth,
Is the light of the plants that are growing upon it!
For the rose, ho, the rose! is the eye of the flowers,
Is the blush of the meadows that feel themselves fair,
Is the lightning of beauty that strikes through the bowers
On pale lovers that sit in the glow unaware.
Ho, the rose breathes of love! ho, the rose lifts the cup
To the red lips of Cypris invoked for a guest!
Ho, the rose having curled its sweet leaves for the world
Takes delight in the motion its petals keep up,
As they laugh to the wind as it laughs from the west.
Eternal Crowns
Christ, King of Kings was born a babe to grow and die in our stead,
He was honored with a scarlet robe a crown of thorns upon his head.
Although Christ was mocked and forced to wear an ugly crown of pain,
The faithful who should have died, they're promised a crown of gain.
Paul says that runners in a race receive a crown that will not last,
But we will receive Eternal Crowns that at Jesus' feet will be cast.
Paul even refers to those he led to Christ as his joy and his crown,
And these are people just like you and me from any city or any town.
But one won't receive a victor's crown unless he obeys all the rules,
This makes some adjust their pace to win, but not the simple fools.
But the man who perseveres under trials by fools who create strife,
And to those who love Him, God above has promised the Crown of life.
Many like Paul, on that day shall receive a Crown of righteousness,
This to all who longed for Jesus' return with a special Seriousness.
And for all the pastors who faithfully pointed all to the coming day,
Friend, they will receive a crown of glory that will never fade away.
And the Tribulation Saints tested with unheard of hate and strife,
Being faithful to the point of death, will receive the crown of life.
Then all will see The Son of Man with a crown of gold upon his head,
With a sickle harvesting souls, leaving behind the spiritually dead.
(Copyright © 06/2003)
To Lord Thurlow
'I lay my branch of laurel down.
Then thus to form Apollo's crown.
Let every other bring his own.'~Lord Thurlow's lines to Mr. Rogers
'I lay my branch of laurel down.'
Thou 'lay thy branch of laurel down!'
Why, what thou'st stole is not enow;
And, were it lawfully thine own,
Does Rogers want it most, or thou?
Keep to thyself thy wither'd bough,
Or send it back to Doctor Donne:
Were justice done to both, I trow,
He'd have but little, and thou--none.
'Then thus to form Apollo's crown.'
A crown! why, twist it how you will,
Thy chaplet must be foolscap still.
When next you visit Delphi's town,
Inquire amongst your fellow-lodgers,
They'll tell you Phoebus gave his crown,
Some years before your birth, to Rogers.
'Let every other bring his own.'
When coals to Newcastle are carried,
And owls sent to Athens, as wonders,
From his spouse when the R egent's unmarried,
Or Liverpool weeps o'er his blunders;
When Tories and Whigs cease to quarrel,
When Castlereagh's wife has an heir,
Then Rogers shall ask us for laurel,
And thou shalt have plenty to spare.