I Must Have Wanton Poets
MUST have wanton poets, pleasant wits,
Musicians, that with touching of a string
May draw the pliant king which way I please:
Music and poetry is his delight;
Therefore I'll have Italian masks by night,
Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows;
And in the day, when he shall walk abroad,
Like sylvan nymphs my pages shall be clad;
My men, like satyrs grazing on the lawns,
Shall with their goat-feet dance the antic hay;
Sometime a lovely boy in Dian's shape,
With hair that gilds the water as it glides,
Crownets of pearl about his naked arms,
And in his sportful hands an olive-tree,
To hide those parts which men delight to see,
Shall bathe him in a spring; and there, hard by,
One like Actæon, peeping through the grove,
Shall by the angry goddess be transform'd,
And running in the likeness of an hart,
By yelping hounds pull'd down, shall seem to die:
Such things as these best please his majesty.
poem by Christopher Marlowe
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Ballade Of The Midnight Forest
Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
Then down the dells, with blown soft hair and bright,
And through the dim wood Dian threads her way.
With water-weeds twined in their locks of gold
The strange cold forest-fairies dance in glee,
Sylphs over-timorous and over-bold
Haunt the dark hollows where the dwarf may be,
The wild red dwarf, the nixies' enemy;
Then 'mid their mirth, and laughter, and affright,
The sudden Goddess enters, tall and white,
With one long sigh for summers pass'd away;
The swift feet tear the ivy nets outright
And through the dim wood Dian threads her way.
She gleans her silvan trophies; down the wold
She hears the sobbing of the stags that flee
Mixed with the music of the hunting roll'd,
But her delight is all in archery,
And naught of ruth and pity wotteth she
More than her hounds that follow on the flight;
The goddess draws a golden bow of might
And thick she rains the gentle shafts that slay.
She tosses loose her locks upon the night,
And through the dim wood Dian threads her way.
ENVOY.
Prince, let us leave the din, the dust, the spite,
The gloom and glare of towns, the plague, the blight:
Amid the forest leaves and fountain spray
There is the mystic home of our delight,
And through the dim wood Dian threads her way.
poem by Andrew Lang
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Ocean Of Inspiration
Mother Veenapanee is the Deity of Deities;
She is an ocean of Delight.
Devotees chant the sweet name with gaiety;
Poets surrender on the cosy feet with Delight.
Mother Saraswatee is a brook of inspiration;
Poets enchant with new creation.
Pray mother delightfully;
Devotees surrender on the flowery feet gaily.
Mother eradicates illiteracy;
Is wisdom’s Deity.
Appears in vernal morn;
Beauteous looks the chilly dawn.
Mother shows the bright path;
Depicting honey verse poets derive mirth.
Their names dazzles in golden letters in pages of history;
The poems inspire the nation enthusiastically.
Mother’s bliss showers on the sons day and night;
She is a brook of inspiration and Delight.
Loves all innocent creatures;
Providing conscience contents their desire.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Some Happy People Take Holidays (Trijan Refrain)
Some happy people take holidays
and its when you and I
love to dine out, to dance and play
while summer days rush by
and with delight moments drag on
and in a flash the night is gone
and with delight,
and with delight
to me you are the only one.
Some happy people take holidays
couples whose love is strong
bathe for hours in the sun's hot rays,
together they belong
with endless love, drawing them near
when they act without any fear
with endless love,
with endless love,
and jubilant they do appear
Some happy people take holidays
while some are separate
and are set with life in their ways
but do not love or hate
to me you are like a goddess
in your new lovely rose-red dress
to me you are,
to me you are
the one that I want to caress.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Water-Lillies
Unwedded from the world, I stray through trees
To where a pool lies mirrored in the sun
A disk of polished gold that I have won
With labours not unknown to Hercules.
Slender they bathe, all naked as a breeze,
Their nipples hollow and their hair undone,
While from their widespread thighs cool ripples run
To rock the water-lilies round their knees.
Nymphs of the fountains, naiads innocent,
Frail sunbeams who have passed between my arms
So beautiful in your imprisonment,
Fill now my soul with symbols of delight:
Soft voices and soft fingers and soft charms
And the perfume of the lotus in the night.
poem by Harry Crosby
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Euterpe
Euterpe thy name is gladness
thou art one of the nine muses
daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne
beautiful goddesses it is thee
who govern the various arts
that stir ornament human life
quicken perceptions
deepen understanding
in quest mind mankind
goddesses associated
with god Apollo
music and healing
Euterpe thou speaks
to poets in lyric poetry
juggling flute music
are your favoured passions
goddess employed spinning
lines poetic in mine spun mind
rejoicing well of delight
in music giver of delight
river dance of sparkling light
See also the poem ‘Midnight Call’.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Prince Amongst Men
The circle has turned seven wheels towards the dream.
How many moons have passed since our awakening?
Fueled upon whiskey and rising
Sanity ravaged by mad dogs foaming and raging
Tearing at the pages of history
Spurring on the reality that exists within the eyes of a child.
The story exists
We may write it
We may read it
We live it.
Who are you my child?
The druid casting shadows onto stone?
The wicked witch who lives alone?
Surrounded by an army of flying monkeys?
Strange symbols of slavery?
What mockery of sanity is this?
That I should slip throughout looking glass worlds.
One eye is shared by two
My flesh is re arranging itself in demonic parody
The horns of Pan are breaking the skin of my scalp
Leaving me goat hoofed and parading the catacombs of
The mountain night, seeking the nymphs of delight in there sleeping
Promising to keep soft and watchful eye upon there safety
But hoping, in a devils delight that they will remember
The joy of spring and require the love I bring.
Restless within the moment
Each seeks their escape
Forever running beneath the midnight sun
Enveloping themselves in the dreams of their forefathers.
Sweet bliss is this life to kiss.
Rise, a Prince amongst Men
Rise King amongst God's
poem by David Lacey
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On The Goddess Of Poesy
The Goddess of Poesy the Goddess of Song
To the Universal immortals she surely belong
The poets of the World her praises do sing
The gift of poetry to their souls she does bring.
The poets to write poems Goddess Poesy inspire
And of singing her praises they don't seem to tire
The poetry of sorrow the poetry of joy
The poetry of youth of the young girl and boy.
The poetry of youthfulness and of growing old
Of young women in their prime lovely to behold
The beauty of Nature the birds and the bees
The mammals and fishes of land and of seas.
The Goddess of poets of every gender race and creed
For their inspiration to write in her lives her they need
Of love, life and Nature she inspires poets to write
For the lovers of poetry to read and recite.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Bird Sanctuary
Between the cliff-rise and the beach
A slip of emerald I own;
With fig and olive, almond, peach,
cherry and plum-tree overgrown;
Glad-watered by a crystal spring
That carols through the silver night,
And populous with birds who sing
Gay madrigals for my delight.
Some merchants fain would buy my land
To build a stately pleasure dome.
Poor fools! they cannot understand
how pricelessly it is my home!
So luminous with living wings,
So musical with feathered joy . . .
Not for all pleasure fortune brings,
Would I such ecstasy destroy.
A thousand birds are in my grove,
Melodious from morn to night;
My fruit trees are their treasure trove,
Their happiness is my delight.
And through the sweet and shining days
They know their lover and their friend;
So I will shield in peace and praise
My innocents unto the end.
poem by Robert William Service
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Delight
Anytime that you fall asleep
I'm wide awake
Anytime that you leave your house
I'm waiting at the gate
I'm not angry anymore
Come on and show your soul
I'd love to hang it on the wall
Framed for me
Anytime that you smile
I know that's really you
Anytime that you laugh you know that
I'll be laughing too
But it's not funny anymore
Come on now where's your soul
Is that it crumpled on the floor
Is this blame on me
Delight Delight Delight Delight
Delight at least we know its name
Delight Delight Delight
Wouldn't it be nice to feel again
Delight Delight Delight
It's locked outside it won't be coming in
Anytime now you'll talk at least I hope you will
Anytime now you'll speak and you know
I'll be listening still
But we don't say much anymore
Come on tell it from your soul
Delight Delight Delight Delight
Delight at least we know its name
Delight Delight Delight
Wouldn't it be nice to feel again
Delight Delight Delight
It's locked outside it won't be coming in
Won't be coming in
Delight Delight
song performed by by Bic Runga from Drive
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silence Vavroovahana Patra
Silence reign sat night;
All creatures rest with delight.
Poet’s pen poems delightfully;
All derive mental peace gaily.
Night is freed from worries, anxieties;
Men, women rest with delight.
Devotees, poets live peacefully;
Pray goddess gleefully.
Night’s lap is silent;
People derive peace, merriment.
Poets derive peace at night;
Mind derives peace from silence with delight.
God’s creation is beautiful;
Creatures are delightful.
Anxieties vanishes from person;
Delightful becomes God’s creation.
Poet surrenders on the feet of mother;
She is life’s operator.
Is our Generator;
Is our path shower.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Villanelle: The Joys of Spring
The Sun wakes the earth, and the birds sing
songs of joy and beauty that strike me with suspense and awe:
Spring fills me with delight about what it will bring.
They rise up in the air, they are the king
of the skies, higher and higher they soar.
O! The joys of Spring.
But when the rain falls, it doesn't matter, for the things
in Spring that are here give me warmth; I don't care that rain will pour:
Spring fills me with delight about what it will bring.
And now I see you, like a new-born lamb; I'm gaping
at your beauty, your whole being, and so much more.
O! The joys of Spring!
Spring, as harbinger of life and hoping,
entices all with possibilities, vivacity, and so much more.
Spring fills me with delight about what it will bring.
So now I offer you my ring,
spend our life like an eternal Spring; I will always keep you in my heart's store:
Spring fills me with delight about what it will bring:
O! The joys of Spring!
poem by Dan Pyzer Knapp
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Burning Down
]from the back of my neck, oh oh oh
Wired a glass jaw, oh oh
Plantation burning your boat is coming in
Strum your jews-harp, youre reeking gin
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
Johnny mike is reading in the yard
His storys timely, oh oh oh
What river is it anyway, radio
Not in a boat, in your ear
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
You pick your island in the sun
Take your island off hes got a gun
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
Hes cooking in the woods, a brush fire in your neck
Feeling mighty mighty, oh oh oh
You can pick your island in the sun
Take your island off hes got a gun
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Spanish Needle
Lovely dainty Spanish needle
With your yellow flower and white,
Dew bedecked and softly sleeping,
Do you think of me to-night?
Shadowed by the spreading mango,
Nodding o'er the rippling stream,
Tell me, dear plant of my childhood,
Do you of the exile dream?
Do you see me by the brook's side
Catching crayfish 'neath the stone,
As you did the day you whispered:
Leave the harmless dears alone?
Do you see me in the meadow
Coming from the woodland spring
With a bamboo on my shoulder
And a pail slung from a string?
Do you see me all expectant
Lying in an orange grove,
While the swee-swees sing above me,
Waiting for my elf-eyed love?
Lovely dainty Spanish needle,
Source to me of sweet delight,
In your far-off sunny southland
Do you dream of me to-night?
poem by Claude McKay
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Sweet Caroline
(words & music by neil diamond)
Where it began, I cant begin to know when
But then I know its growing strong
Oh, wasnt the spring, whooo
And spring became the summer
Whod believe youd come along
Hands, touching hands, reaching out
Touching me, touching you
Oh, sweet caroline
Good times never seem so good
Ive been inclined to believe it never would
And now i, I look at the night, whooo
And it dont seem so lonely
We fill it up with only two, oh
And when I hurt
Hurting runs off my shoulder
How can I hurt when holding you
Oh, one, touching one, reaching out
Touching me, touching you
Oh, sweet caroline
Good times never seem so good
Oh Ive been inclined to believe it never would
Ohhh, sweet caroline, good times never seem so good
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Caroline
(words & music by neil diamond)
Where it began, I cant begin to know when
But then I know its growing strong
Oh, wasnt the spring, whooo
And spring became the summer
Whod believe youd come along
Hands, touching hands, reaching out
Touching me, touching you
Oh, sweet caroline
Good times never seem so good
I made him climb to believe it never would
And now i, I look at the night, whooo
And it dont seem so lonely
We fill it up with only two, oh
And when I hurt
Hurting runs off my shoulder
How can I hurt when holding you
Oh, one, touching one, reaching out
Touching me, touching you
Oh, sweet caroline
Good times never seem so good
Oh I made him climb to believe it never would
Ohhh, sweet caroline, good times never seem so good
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Giddy Tree' by David Hart
'The Giddy Tree' by David Hart
Giddy tree, oh giddy tree
You tickle my funny bones
You see
Your branches swirl and twirl
And you look all gnarled and
Ready to unfurl
You creak and swing with
Ease
In a sweet swirling and
Affectionate breeze
Feisty tree, oh feisty tree
Butterflies dance
And fall in a frenzy
At your knees
Silly tree, oh silly tree
Ladybugs sunbath and linger
Giddy on your leaves
Limber tree, oh limber tree
You give and you live
A delight to the
Sight
and always you please
Dreamy tree, oh dreamy tree
Love birds surround you
and like adventurous ships sailing on
Sprite and dazzling seas
Charming tree, oh charming tree
Little children squeal and tickle
and swing on your arms in
the breeze oh so fickle
Mysterious tree, oh mysterious tree
The sparrows adore you
The squirrels they implore you
The owls ever asking you,
Who, who, who
The stars with certainty
Know you are no fool
You are a funny and twisty and
dreamy and mysterious and
wonderful and charming
tree, you.
poem by David Hart
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Absolute Necessity
Absolute necessity
Is poetry a luxury or one of life’s necessities?
I have to read, I have to write poetry a pure delight.
Other poets inspire me.Exploring the variety
of forms and styles that I can find, serves to stimulate my mind.
I do not claim to be the best I am just one amongst the rest
of poets posting on the net. Who you remember or forget.
Is poetry a luxury the answer must be NO from me.
To some it seems a waste of time to other folks it is sublime.
You are quite free to make your choice. But I will always raise my voice.
Applauding poets who can write fine poetry that brings delight,
Uplift the hearts of other men, more power to the poet’s pen.
27/07/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com.poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Dance
Holding the strings of vibes
We dance to the string of life...
Dance with me my handsome
Dance with me through the night
Dance with your arms around me
Holding me... Oh... so tight
Dance with me to the music
It's all about rhythm and beat
Just you and me together
Will sweat out the heat
Dance with me to a Salsa, under a starry night
Dance with me to the music, looking into my eyes
Let our lips tango to the rhythm of the beat
Just me and you together, slowly moving our feet
Dance with me my handsome
For this is all that.... I desire
Tender moments, to cherish and admire
poem by Meena Mustafa
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Devotees
The priestess who officiates.
Clad only in authority
She very clearly demonstrates.
She's comfortable with nudity.
Being Sky Clad sets you free.
To be the way you're meant to be.
Completely inhibition free.
Open to the energy.
The goddess provides liberally.
To the faithful few who dance.
Sky Clad unashamedly.
Whenever they may get the chance.
Obedient to the Goddess' will.
Dancing naked Deosil.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A gracious silhouette on the path of light
A gracious silhouette on the path of light
She was a phantom of delight
when she first gleamed upon my sight
A lovely apparition, upon the earth, sent
to be the world's ornaments
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair
Like the golden dusk her glided hair
But all things else about her said or drawn
are as the joy of emerged from dawn
A dancing spirit, a wanton shape, an image glee and gay
to haunt, to startle and beguile as a piercing ray
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