Related quotes: Sweet life! how lovely to...

Winter in the Country

Sweet life! how lovely to be here
And feel the soft sea-laden breeze
Strike my flushed face, the spruce's fair
Free limbs to see, the lesser trees'

Bare hands to touch, the sparrow's cheep
To heed, and watch his nimble flight
Above the short brown grass asleep.
Love glorious in his friendly might,

Music that every heart could bless,
And thoughts of life serene, divine,
Beyond my power to express,
Crowd round this lifted heart of mine!

But oh! to leave this paradise
For the city's dirty basement room,
Where, beauty hidden from the eyes,
A table, bed, bureau, and broom

In corner set, two crippled chairs
All covered up with dust and grim
With hideousness and scars of years,
And gaslight burning weird and dim,

Will welcome me . . . And yet, and yet
This very wind, the winter birds
The glory of the soft sunset,
Come there to me in words.

poem by Claude McKay
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My Heart Is Burning

Heart is burning thinking of you
Smelling the jealousy of mine for your ex-one
Thinking always what was my fault
Why did you do this with me? ? ? ? ?
Saying “I love you” you just turned around and
Told me ”leave me alone I am not yours
My heart is burning for another one, my ex-one”

My heart is crying thinking of you
You had told me you love me & will marry me
Showed a lot of dreams
Traveled with me around the garden for catching a butterfly and
When I caught it for you you kissed me and told” you are all for me”
But now you are saying your heart is burning for the ex-one

My heart is burning loving you
Wanna kill myself as I am the stupid idiot fell in love and trusted you blindly
And now burning seriously in the fire of our wonderful past
Wanna throw myself from the top of the hill
Wanna stub my heart and drove you out of this
Wanna die in such a way that my next birth will afraid of loving someone like this
Still my heart is burning wanna the cold, sweet breeze of your love to extinguish it

Want the soft touch of your hands on my cheek with a sweet look and a smile on your face for me
Want to listen the gentle and soft voice of your saying I love you babe
Wanna sleep in your arms and tell you every pain of my life
Wanna keep you in my heart forever and will never let you go
My heart is burning
P.S. its for her who ditched me in a worst way the bad girl in real

poem by Rajnish Jena
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What Would You Like

Tell me you name, tell me your sign.
Please tell me that my mind is right.
I just want to take you to my home.
Where we can talk by a fire all alone.
There's just one thing that I need to know.
Could you ever be there when I woke up,
Or will you be just another and be gone?

Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?

I take one look at you and my heart can't stop smiling.
It begins to display on the outside and my lips curl up.
Looking at you from across the void I can see my life with you.
You take a glance at me and can't help but notice to.
I walk around the corner and fade out of your sight.
I love playing this game.

You chase me around the corner at the end of the aisle.
And we both meet each other eye to eye.
My hands behind my back.
Can you guess what I've got in mind.
Oh I think you'll be suprized.
You look at me and begin to smile.

I see the moonlight fall across your face as you sleep.
I take one look at you as my fingers gently stroke your cheek.
You breathe in and breathe out and stir awake.
Looking up at me and smiling all the while.
I bend down and kiss you ever so slowly.

My lips want to take in every taste it can.
My fingers what to rub your smooth skin.
My eyes want to see all your love dep inside.
And no matter how hard I try.
My mind can't comprehend the beauty within.

If I bought you a dozen roses would you fall in love?
If I wrote you that special love poem would you kiss me tight?
If I took you to a lakeside of of a romantic dinner would you stay the night?
Would you like the candle's flickering lights?
Would you like the expressions of my words rolling off my tongue?
Would you come be with me even though the night's young?
Would you like the kiss that takes the breath away deep within your lungs?

Would you want to be with me through the rest of your life?
Would you want to be with my heart through the beating might?
Would you want to grab my hands and love me through all the bad time?
Would you want to hug me in the anger of emotions and try to fight?
Would you stand within my heart and dance in the spotlight?
Would you like to be with me through the whole night?

poem by Josh Burnett
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My Love Outshines The Summer Sun (Sonnet Corona)

(after William Shakespeare)

My love outshines the summer sun,
even stars in their remote twinkling light
and her eyes are more beautiful, each one
than the stars glimmering at night

Her cheeks is dimpled cute
her hair is an auburn crown,
her cheeks is rosy beyond repute
her hair is sun-shot twisting in a way of their own.

Her lips are more soft and warm
and her spirit is more mild
than a ray of light falling on my arm
or at times more free and wild

than birds where they fly,
my love is like the radiant sapphire sky.

My love is like the radiant sapphire sky
like the breeze rustling through trees
so lovely on my eye,
eager to please.

My love is like the summer sun,
like the blue hued sea
always warm and full of fun,
touching me gently

even when the darkness calls
and when time goes to its finality
like a star her light still falls,
my love stays true to me

in every thing her face I see
so gentle, sweet and free.

III

So gentle, sweet and free
my love lives her life
but I long for her to be near to me
in a world without any strive.

Like a lily prospering alone in the marsh
blooming pure and serene,
my darling lives unknown to a world harsh
out of control, away from the limelight scene

and in that rural place
her beauty is untouched by makeup,
filled with a sweet grace
and even in the morning when she wakes up

the sun is in her hair,
my darling is really fair.

My darling is really fair
there are stars in her eyes,
she’s the most beautiful flower found anywhere,
her eyes are much more pure than the bluest skies.

When she smiles at me,
smiling tenderly,
I in her smile blessings see
as if love is there in all of its glory.

Still more so the bliss
that is caught in her kiss
that comes from the divine
which she is making mine

and sometimes the beauty makes her cry,
when the day flutters by.

When the day flutters by
with the sun setting red
you will find my love and I
where stars come out from bed,

then like a butterfly
the sun kisses the night,
touches the dark low and high
before it goes by with its last light

and she unloosens my tie
while we watch the full yellow moon,
while the fire in her eyes lie
sparkling, much brighter than the sunny afternoon,

but with a passing bat flying low she catches a fright,
while the stars are shining bright.

VII

While the stars are shining bright
like jewels in the sky’s crown
on a winter night
it has tranquillity, a beauty of its own,

her eyes are radiant,
as if aflame
lovely and brilliant
and of some she know the name

and something indiscernibly small
creeps into the very soul, into the heart
and of it that is all,
a smouldering, something with which we cannot part:

to me she remains the only one in joy and fun,
my love outshines the summer sun.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Summer Days

Summer days are warm, and wonderfully long.
Deep down, within my heart, I feel a joyful song.
Gone are winter days, with their dowdy browns;
The trees and flowers now wear coloured crowns.

The natural world displays its bounteous beauty.
The soft, summer breeze is fragrant and fruity.
Bees, butterflies, and other bugs, now take flight.
Days of summer, feel so very cheerful and bright.

The days of winter can be so deeply depressing,
But now, their true selves, plants are expressing.
Suddenly, the world feels like a much better place,
And the happy smiles are evident on many a face.

The world, all about us, is given a golden glow,
Which illuminates Mother Nature's vibrant show.
Following the winter months: all dull and dreary;
We're treated to a display that's much more cheery.

Winter woodlands appear so very bland and bare,
But, come the summer, they look fabulous and fair.
Shafts of sunlight shine down through the tall trees;
The leaf laden branches rustle in the summer breeze.

Some secretly wish that summer could last forever;
That, all year round, we could enjoy warm weather.
Once summer is here, you hate for it to have to end;
You warm to it, as you would, to your dearest friend.

poem by Angela Wybrow
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Mine

O HOW my heart is beating as her name I keep repeating,
And I drink up joy like wine:
O how my heart is beating as her name I keep repeating,
For the lovely girl is mine!
She's rich, she's fair, beyond compare,
Of noble mind, serene and kind--
And how my heart is beating as her name I keep repeating,
For the lovely girl is mine!

O how my heart is beating as her name I keep repeating,
In a music soft and fine;
O how my heart is beating as her name I keep repeating,
For the girl I love is mine.
She owns no lands, has no white hands,
Her lot is poor, her life obscure;--
Yet how my heart is beating as her name I keep repeating,
For the girl I love is mine!

poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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To Mary In Summer

LAY your head here, Mary,
Lay your head here,
While the blown grass, Mary,
With timid voice and wary,
Sings in your ear:—
The grass which round us, Mary,
Shuts like a nest;
By your dear limbs, dear Mary,
Lighter than limbs of Faery,
Daintily press'd.
Back with it all though, Mary,
Back and aside;
The wind comes this way, Mary,
And here the trees are airy
And the skies are wide.
What do your eyes fear, Mary,
So grave and soft?
I love to see them, Mary,
In whimsical vagary
Lifted aloft.
Mary, Mary, Mary,
Laugh in my face:
You know now, my own Mary,
No eyes can laugh so rarely
Or grant such grace.
Your cheek is pale now, Mary,
And red, by turns.
Why should the hand be chary
Of that to give which, Mary,
The heart so yearns?
Give me your hand, ah Mary,
Give me your hand:
In city or in prairie
There is none kinder, Mary,
From land to land.
Your lips to my lips, Mary,
Your lips to mine:
High up in Hebe's dairy
No milk so sweet, my Mary,
On earth no wine.
Lay your head here, Mary,
Lay your head here;
While my heart now, Mary,
The pleasant tune to vary,
Beats in your ear.

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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136 Syllables at Rocky Mountain Dharma Center

Tail turned to red sunset on a juniper crown a lone magpie cawks.

Mad at Oryoki in the shrine-room -- Thistles blossomed late afternoon.

Put on my shirt and took it off in the sun walking the path to lunch.

A dandelion seed floats above the marsh grass with the mosquitos.

At 4 A.M. the two middleaged men sleeping together holding hands.

In the half-light of dawn a few birds warble under the Pleiades.

Sky reddens behind fir trees, larks twitter, sparrows cheep cheep cheep
cheep cheep.

poem by Allen Ginsberg
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In Love with the Sun

Imagine I could be someone else who could
sing all the songs that I love, who could join
the dance, free to express the beauty I see
in words that charmed the sorrowful heart
- wouldn't life be meaningful then?

Saturday 22 September 2012

The world around me is beautiful
the bejewelled swimming pool, the
emerald grass, soft breeze, lying
in the sun - dreaming

Waking with a smile, floating on the
dream, preparing lunch, listening to
Chopin - Les Sylphydes - happy
to cry with the melody

Looking at what I wrote yesterday
I smile, if I cannot express beauty
adequately, at least I can keep
the memory alive

Waltzing in the kitchen all by myself,
heaving like a ship in stormy seas
moving in circles, satisfied that
the feeling of delight

Is still there, my imagination set free
still makes me feel like a dancer
expressive on nimble feet - I'm
in love with the sun!

Sunday 23 September 2012

poem by Margaret Alice Second
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After our Likeness.

Before me now a little picture lies—
A little shadow of a childish face,
Childishly sweet, yet with the dawning grace
Of thought and wisdom on her lips and eyes.

Fair, oval, broad-brow'd face—small, delicate head—
Transparent skin, with blue veins shining through—
All the soft outlines, beautiful and true,
Bring me the echo of the words “God said.”

Made “in our image”—sure 'tis that we see,
God's likeness, in the fair face of a child,
By the world's sin and passion undefiled—
Ay, as I look, it seems quite plain to me.

The light wherein the little features shine,
Strange, mystic light, so undefined and faint,
So far too pure for any words to paint—
'Tis a reflection of the Face divine.

Some day the earthly shadows will be cast
Across that sunshine—it may be to dim
A while the visible countenance of Him;
But 'twill be there—the likeness—to the last.

Some day the lucid waters, in which lie
Pictured those glorious lineaments, will be
Stirred up and troubled like a stormy sea;—
But they will yet re-settle—by-and-by.

They will re-settle when the soul is still'd,
Its passions, its wild longings, and its pain;
The pure reflection will shine out again
When earth's hopes are relinquish'd, unfulfill'd.

They will re-settle in those after-years
When life's hard lessons have been conned and learn'd;
Then this child's beauty will have all return'd,
More lovely for the trouble and the tears.
They will re-settle in the calm of death,
When the sweet eyes are laid asleep, and when
The heart is hush'd. Truly God's likeness then—
The mirror clear, unsullied by a breath.

Ah! while I look, and trace each tender line,
I think most of the day when I shall see
The dear face in that perfect purity,
Its mortal features clothed with the divine.

This self-same face, but with the image bright,
Nevermore undefined, and faint, and dim;
This self-same face, yet like the face of Him,
In glory and in beauty infinite.

poem by Ada Cambridge
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For Love That I Want To Forget

a stain in my heart
for years
irremovable and so i let it stay
like a scar, now smooth and
so persistent that it appears like
a birthmark
to my pain, years back, when i still believed in love
when i was still enticed by the whims of
affections
my heart groggy with care
and drunk with promises of unchange and
landscapes of eternity

nothing lasts perhaps except the scars
the wound, true, they heal
and close themselves in like a room locked
with secrets and trunks
closed and covered with dusts
on the mezzanine floor

but on this day i remember things
with a welcome of my arms
sweet pain, tender memories
face of an innocent woman on the
shores unboulevarded yet
soft breeze of the past seas
salty tears on ephemeral cheeks
with dimples like
lines on the pink corners of
the orchids

on this day i may remember the faces
but i am numb and i do not
remember the intimacies anymore

on this day, i am free and so
in love with you

your hands are so soft, sweet,
your lips so luscious and wet and
flavored with scarlet desires

you are my present melody
and i am singing you from the deepest
chambers of my heart

you are so real, and i am so alive.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Early Morning Beauty :)

As I sit here all alone admiring the view of an early sunrise
I tilt my head back and close my eyes.
A soft gentle breeze crosses my face
I look around and enjoy the quietness of God's peace and the soft gentle pace
The trees are in full bloom, the leaves ready to fall
God's beauty of earth, I admire it all.
As the sun comes up and begins a new day
I sit here quietly and begin to pray.
Dear God, I begin to say, please watch over my life and keep me safe
Give me hope and show me faith.
Guide my path and let me know you are near.
Allow me to be strong and filled with love, for love conquers all fear.
A gentle breeze crosses my path, and gives me a slight chill
God answers and says: I am with you still.
I've never left you alone, or threw you aside, I am in your heart, I will be your guide.
I will show you the way to master life's difficulties, and trust your heart,
For I am with you now and forever, I shall never part.
A gentle breeze I feel again, I know my prayers are answered, God has heard my plea.
He has pointed this out for me to see.
Life has many surprises each and every day. We cannot live on regrets and sorrow.
Once again I feel a gentle breeze which means God is saying:
My child there is a tomorrow:
The sun will shine once again, the birds will continue to sing.
Memories will last forever, and enjoy life a new today, and all that it may bring.

poem by Jordan Moore
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The Touch Of Your Lips

When troubles get me, cares beset me,
And wont let me go.
I turn to you for consolation.
There I find new peace of mind;
To leave behind my woe,
I turn to you as I shall always do.
The touch of your lips upon my brow,
Your lips that are cool and sweet,
Such tenderness lies in their soft caress,
My heart forgets to beat.
*The touch of your hands upon my head,
The love in your eyes a-shine,
And now, at last, the moment divine,
The touch of your lips on mine.
(Instrumental interlude and pick up at *.)
*The touch of your hands upon my head,
The love in your eyes a-shine,
And now, at last, the moment divine,
The touch of your lips on mine.

song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heart Of Poetry

The mystery of words wisdom of the heart to each
angelic form, the voice of emotion in verse.

The melody of heart speak in words that feels the
emotion to express the deepness of feeling in the mind.

Thoughts of words flow to the emotion to make meaning,
to the essence that moves, sensitivity inside emotion
through the words.

Intellect of mind with the knowledge of experience power of
wisdom transcend to composition to unlock the perfect will of
words justify hidden truth.

The magnificent power compose words gives roots
blossom to the garden of heart and bring fruits to the heart of men.

Love kind words are power to win oneself to transform the
beauty of inside emotion to one particular individual.

The poetry, words of wisdom comes from inner motives of
good heart that gives us privilege to express the hidden
beauty of thoughts inside mind to put it in words.

The power to dominate inside individual for beauty and
wonder purpose of life.

poem by Jocelyn Dunbar
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Paradise

Hm, hm
Hm, hm, hm, hm
Just like a welcome fire
That comes in the cold
You make my heart warm
And a little more love is born
And i'm caught up once again on you
Soft as a rose, your tenderness glows
But you're so strong
And i know i'm gonna love you long
Well, crazy maybe
But i've seen paradise
Here in your eyes
I'm in seventh heaven
Ooh, there's nothing quite
Like spending your life
With a special someone
It feels so right
When the lights are out
And i'm in the dark
I'm not afraid, no
Long as i can get a piece of your heart
And the wind sighs
I love you
Specially when we touch
I need it so much
And i'm glad that we found love
Let the record show that i know that i've
Seen paradise here in your eyes
I'm in seventh heaven
Ooh, there's nothing quite
Like spending your life
With a special someone
It feels so right
Hmm, ooh (paradise)
Hey, i'm in para, para-dise, yeah
I'm in paradise, you know
You know that i like, you know that i like
You know that i like to be in paradise
(paradise) i'm in paradise
And for those who think that there's no such thing
As eternity, they should take a look at you and me
We have got the perfect harmony
Specially when we touch
You know i need it, oh, so much
I'm in heaven specially when i'm with you, hey
I'm in paradise (paradise)
I'm in paradise, paradise and a
Here in your life
Here in your eyes (paradise)
Oh really, i'm in paradise
You know that i like, you know that i like
You know that i like to be in paradise
(paradise) i wanna move with you
I wanna groove you, baby
With me, with me in paradise
I said i'm in paradise
Ooh, ooh, hoo (paradise)
Yeah, to be in paradise with you and me
To be enough, paradise here in your eyes
Woh, woh, woh, woh, woh
You that i like, you know that i like
You know that i like, you know that i like
You know that i like
You know that i like, i like
I like to be in paradise
Spending my life, spending my life
Spending my life, spending my life
Spending all my life with you
Here in paradise, wooh
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

song performed by by Natalie Cole, music by Natalie Cole and Marvin Yancy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To ---- VI

The brilliant west is glowing,
With sunset's farewell ray;
The silver waves are flowing,
On to the distant sea;

The pale bright stars are keeping
Their watch through night's still hours;
The dews in joy are weeping
Above the new-born flowers;

The city's hum is dying
Upon the perfumed breeze,
That wanders, softly sighing,
Among the flower-crowned trees.

But my vagrant thoughts are roaming
To loved ones far away;
I heed not twilight's coming,
Nor flowers, nor winds at play.

Of a low, sweet voice I'm dreaming,
More soft than the southwinds are,
Of a gentle eye that is beaming,
More bright than the Evening Star;

And I read as many pages
In the depths of that hazel eye,
As were read by the Chaldean sages,
In the glittering stars on high;

And the dreams that float under the cover
Of those snowy lids of thine,
The thoughts in that young heart that hover,
I have magic power to divine.

poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Stanzas

If thou be in a lonely place,
If one hour's calm be thine,
As Evening bends her placid face
O'er this sweet day's decline;
If all the earth and all the heaven
Now look serene to thee,
As o'er them shuts the summer even,
One moment--think of me!

Pause, in the lane, returning home;
'Tis dusk, it will be still:
Pause near the elm, a sacred gloom
Its breezeless boughs will fill.
Look at that soft and golden light,
High in the unclouded sky;
Watch the last bird's belated flight,
As it flits silent by.

Hark! for a sound upon the wind,
A step, a voice, a sigh;
If all be still, then yield thy mind,
Unchecked, to memory.
If thy love were like mine, how blest
That twilight hour would seem,
When, back from the regretted Past,
Returned our early dream!

If thy love were like mine, how wild
Thy longings, even to pain,
For sunset soft, and moonlight mild,
To bring that hour again!
But oft, when in thine arms I lay,
I've seen thy dark eyes shine,
And deeply felt their changeful ray
Spoke other love than mine.

My love is almost anguish now,
It beats so strong and true;
'Twere rapture, could I deem that thou
Such anguish ever knew.
I have been but thy transient flower,
Thou wert my god divine;
Till checked by death's congealing power,
This heart must throb for thine.

And well my dying hour were blest,
If life's expiring breath
Should pass, as thy lips gently prest
My forehead cold in death;
And sound my sleep would be, and sweet,
Beneath the churchyard tree,
If sometimes in thy heart should beat
One pulse, still true to me.

poem by Charlotte Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Among The Timothy

Long hours ago, while yet the morn was blithe,
Nor sharp athirst had drunk the beaded dew,
A reaper came, and swung his cradled scythe
Around this stump, and, shearing slowly, drew
Far round among the clover, ripe for hay,
A circle clean and grey;
And here among the scented swathes that gleam,
Mixed with dead daisies, it is sweet to lie
And watch the grass and the few-clouded sky,
Nor think but only dream.

For when the noon was turning, and the heat
Fell down most heavily on field and wood,
I too came hither, borne on restless feet,
Seeking some comfort for an echoing mood.
Ah, I was weary of the drifting hours,
The echoing city towers,
The blind grey streets, the jingle of the throng,
Weary of hope that like a shape of stone,
Sat near at hand without a smile or moan,
And weary most of song.

And those high moods of mine that someone made
My heart a heaven, opening like a flower,
A sweeter world where I in wonder strayed,
Begirt with shapes of beauty and the power
Of dreams that moved through that enchanted clime
With changing breaths of rhyme,
Were all gone lifeless now like those white leaves.
That hang all winter, shivering dead and blind
Among the sinewy beeches in the wind,
That vainly calls and grieves.

Ah! I will set no more mine overtasked brain
To barren search and toil that beareth nought,
Forever following with sorefooted pain
The crossing pathways of unbourned thought;
But let it go, as one that hath no skill,
To take what shape it will,
An ant slow-burrowing in the earthy gloom,
A spider bathing in the dew at morn,
Or a brown bee in wayward fancy borne
From hidden bloom to bloom.

Hither and thither o'er the rocking grass
The little breezes, blithe as they are blind,
Teasing the slender blossoms pass and pass,
Soft-footed children of the gipsy wind,
To taste of every purple-fringed head
Before the bloom is dead;
And scarcely heed the daisies that, endowed
With stems so short they cannot see, up-bear
Their innocent sweet eyes distressed, and stare
Like children in a crowd.

Not far to fieldward in the central heat,
Shadowing the clover, a pale poplar stands
With glimmering leaves that, when the wind comes, beat
Together like innumerable small hands,
And with the calm, as in vague dreams astray,
Hang wan and silver-grey;
Like sleepy maenads, who in pale surprise,
Half-wakened by a prowling beast, have crept
Out of the hidden covert, where they slept,
At noon with languid eyes.

The crickets creak, and through the noonday glow,
That crazy fiddler of the hot mid-year,
The dry cicada plies his wiry bow
In long-spun cadence, thin and dusty sere:
From the green grass the small grasshoppers' din
Spreads soft and silvery thin:
And ever and anon a murmur steals
Into mine ears of toil that moves alway,
The crackling rustle of the pitch-forked hay
And lazy jerk of wheels.

As so I lie and feel the soft hours a wane,
To wind and sun and peaceful sound laid bare,
That aching dim discomfort of the brain
Fades off unseen, and shadowy-footed care
Into some hidden corner creeps at last
To slumber deep and fast;
And gliding on, quite fashioned to forget,
From dream to dream I bid my spirit pass
Out into the pale green ever-swaying grass
To brood, but no more fret.

And hour by hour among all shapes that grow
Of purple mints and daisies gemmed with gold
In sweet unrest my visions come and go;
I feel and hear and with quiet eyes behold;
And hour by hour, the ever-journeying sun,
In gold and shadow spun,
Into mine eyes and blood, and through the dim
Green glimmering forest of the grass shines down,
Till flower and blade, and every cranny brown,
And I are soaked with him.

poem by Archibald Lampman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Lover

with his fingers so soft they touch my face lightly
and with his arms so strong he holds me tight
as he kisses my lips i feel the love he has inside
he shows it and says it when he can
the look in his eyes gives me quite a surprise
just befor he says i love you
you can see it on him that he loves me
hes so beautiful yet so quiet most of the time
hes soft hearted to me and very sweet
hes always there
with his beauty bringing hope to my world
an the thoughts of wanting to wake up
and the thoughts of wanting to live
every time i hear his words
the desire in them is clear
the craving for him unbearable most of the time
yet suttle and quiet like him
hes the only one who has my heart
and the power to break them so easily
i long to feel him close and hear his voice so sweet
his beauty could never be taken nore tainted to me
he is the lover my sweet man
the one who catches me an helps me land
he helps me stand up and holds my hand
he never lets me down nore lets me fall
for him i am thankfull hes my lover moste of all

poem by Sandy Vanity
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The lightest touch.

Softly he touched me, gently as a breeze
that wafts this way and that, swaying summer hats.

Gently he caressed, with words so honey combed and sweet,
to melt the coldest heart, my moment was complete.

Sinking into sugar brown eyes, his soft brown skin
and big ‘huggy' grin, we seemed to melt each other from within.

The summer grass, it filled my head within this bed of ecstasy,
I lay beneath the lilac tree; its scent was drifting over me.

Our hands found each other, we kissed, my eyes brimmed over
to think, some day, this moment I might miss.

How sad in life all things move on and like the flowing waves
we lovers separated to go our different ways,

but as tears sting my eyes and burn into my heart
I've one more memory to share; he had the lightest touch.

poem by Ruth Walters
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My heart is slave of morning scene

serene is the dawn and calm mind...
soft is the grass with drops of dew
clouds are grey on the sky blue
flowers fresh and trees look kind
breeze is never so soft as now
unmindful of all it's jollity and fun
heedless of all, it constantly runs
innocent buds will face it-but how?
birds are singing without any fear
using jargon take God's name
the sun is peeping through its frame
in such moments HE looks near
my heart is slave of morning scene
finer, fragrant, cool and clean...

poem by Shahzia Batool
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