Earth Again
They are incomprehensible, the things of this earth.
The lure of waters. The lure of fruits.
Lure of two breasts and the long hair of a maiden.
In rouge, in vermillion, in that color of ponds
Found only in the Green Lakes near Wilno.
An ungraspable multitudes swarm, come together
In the crinkles of tree bark, in the telescope's eye,
For an endless wedding,
For the kindling of eyes, for a sweet dance
In the elements of air, sea, earth, and subterranean caves,
So that for a short moment there is no death
And time does not unreel like a skein of yarn
Thrown into an abyss.
poem by Czeslaw Milosz
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Related quotes
Keep Your Lure In The Water
Chorus:
Keep your lure in the water,
Don't just sit by the shore
There are souls to be caught
Everywhere in this old world
Go where hearts are plenty,
Don't just drift with the tide
Keep your lure in the water,
In the waters of life
The lord said, "Simon, haul your nets in
From now on you're a fisher of men"
Well, I like fishin',
That's why it caught my ear
The Lord knew how to get to me
And what I'd need to hear
Chous:
Keep your lure in the water,
Don't just sit by the shore
There are souls to be caught
Everywhere in this old world
Go where hearts are plenty,
Don't just drift with the tide
Keep your lure in the water,
In the waters of life
--- Instrumental ---
Well the sea is troubled
And it's hard to stay afloat
And you feel like Jesus
Is sleeping in the boat
Don't you dare give up
On the Prince of Peace
And in the middle of the storm
You will find a sweet release
Chorus:
Keep your lure in the water,
Don't just sit by the shore
There are souls to be caught
Everywhere in this old world
Go where hearts are plenty,
Don't just drift with the tide
Keep your lure in the water,
In the waters of life
Chorus:
Yeah, Keep your lure in the water,
Don't just sit by the shore
There are souls to be caught
Everywhere in this old world
Go where hearts are plenty,
Don't just drift with the tide
Keep your lure in the water,
In the waters of life
Yeah, keep your lure in the water,
In the waters of life...
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The environ is the factor
A red saree amidst green ones
And a green saree amidst red ones
Catch your eyes and lure.
One’s lure is related to one’s background..
16.09.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Lure Of Writing
The lure of writing
is not an easy one to break
once it has you in its grip.
It won’t let you go,
make no mistake.
You can struggle all you want,
but you can never win.
You can turn your back on it
saying I will never write again,
but you will.
The lure of writing
is not and easy one to break,
it will seduce you with dreams
and no matter how many times
they are crushed
the lure of writing
will draw you back again
and again and again.
25 April 2009
poem by David Harris
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To get or not, one lures.
We spend more and more for our looks
Maybe, it is to lure the opposite.
If so, by marriage it should be over.
But we prolong it even after that.
Growing old and old, we spend more and more.
To lure is sex bound; no taboo can kill it.
21.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Chemistry
In twilight of pain
I blink for a dot
to punctuate the intelligence.
My incoherence brings the unseen.
I stay at a vowel
to see the truth.
Immenseness versus depth,
in shoals of turbulent life.
Where do I hide my vessel?
A lure of the exotic death
does not bring the peach color
to reveal the light on earth.
An inverted blankness prints
the words of green bruises,
where the falls meet.
poem by Satish Verma
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All Is Vanity, Saieth the Preacher
I.
Fame, wisdom, love, and power were mine,
And health and youth possess'd me;
My goblets blush'd from every vine,
And lovely forms caress'd me;
I sunn'd my heart in beauty's eyes,
And felt my soul grow tender:
All earth can give, or mortal prize,
Was mine of regal splendour.
II.
I strive to number o'er what days
Remembrance can discover,
Which all that life or earth displays
Would lure me to live over.
There rose no day, there roll'd no hour
Of pleasure unembitter'd;
And not a trapping deck'd my power
That gall'd not while it glitter'd.
III.
The serpent of the field, by art
And spells, is won from harming;
But that which coils around the heart,
Oh! who hath pwer of charming?
It will not list to wisdom's lore,
Nor music's voice can lure it;
But there it stings for evermore
The soul that must endure it.
All Is Vanity, Saieth the Preacher
I.
Fame, wisdom, love, and power were mine,
And health and youth possess'd me;
My goblets blush'd from every vine,
And lovely forms caress'd me;
I sunn'd my heart in beauty's eyes,
And felt my soul grow tender:
All earth can give, or mortal prize,
Was mine of regal splendour.
II.
I strive to number o'er what days
Remembrance can discover,
Which all that life or earth displays
Would lure me to live over.
There rose no day, there roll'd no hour
Of pleasure unembitter'd;
And not a trapping deck'd my power
That gall'd not while it glitter'd.
III.
The serpent of the field, by art
And spells, is won from harming;
But that which coils around the heart,
Oh! who hath pwer of charming?
It will not list to wisdom's lore,
Nor music's voice can lure it;
But there it stings for evermore
The soul that must endure it.
All Is Vanity, Saith the Preacher
Fame, wisdom, love, and power were mine,
And health and youth possess'd me;
My goblets blush'd from every vine,
And lovely forms caress'd me;
I sunn'd my heart in beauty's eyes,
And felt my soul grow tender;
All earth can give, or mortal prize,
Was mine of regal splendour.
I strive to number o'er what days
Remembrance can discover,
Which all that life or earth displays
Would lure me to live over.
There rose no day, there roll'd no hour
Of pleasure unembitter'd;
And not a trapping deck'd my power
That gall'd not while it glitter'd.
The serpent of the field, by art
And spells, is won from harming;
But that which coils around the heart,
Oh! who hath power of charming?
It will not list to wisdom's lore,
Nor music's voice can lure it;
But there it stings for evermore
The soul that must endure it.
poem by Byron (1815)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Fame, wisdom, love, and power were mine
(All is vanity, saith the preacher)
I
Fame, wisdom, love, and power were mine,
And health and youth possess'd me;
My goblets blush'd from every vine,
And lovely forms caress'd me;
I sunn'd my heart in beauty's eyes,
And felt my soul grow tender;
All earth can give, or mortal prize,
Was mine of regal splendour.
II
I strive to number o'er what days
Remembrance can discover,
Which all that life or earth displays
Would lure me to live over.
There rose no day, there roll'd no hour
Of pleasure unembitter'd:
And not a trapping deck'd my power
That gall'd not while it glitter'd.
III
The serpent of the field, by art
And spells, is won from harming;
But that which coils around the heart,
Oh! who hath power of charming?
It will not list to wisdom's lore,
Nor music's voice can lure it;
But there it stings for evermore
The soul that must endure it.
poem by Byron from The Hebrew Melodies (1815)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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You May Believe
Four elements, fire, earth, air and water,
Each on the calendar takes a quarter.
Fire and water together do not mix,
Fire always needs air, for that is its fix.
Earth, air and water that is a trio.
In what section would we find our Leo.
Horoscopes are some peoples obsession,
All the forecasts would give one depression.
You may believe them or you may not,
But quite frankly, I do not care a jot.
I’m an Aries and I’m a fiery one.
A Ram, well Ewe, when all is said and done.
Whatever prediction, for good or ill,
Will on a few occasions fit the bill.
Astrology will continue to lure,
All who feel readings can foretell ‘Amour’.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Knife
Can I explain this to you? Your eyes
are entrances the mouths of caves
I issue from wonderful interiors
upon a blessed sea and a fine day,
from inside these caves I look and dream.
Your hair explicable as a waterfall
in some black liquid cooled by legend
fell across my thought in a moment
became a garment I am naked without
lines drawn across through morning and evening.
And in your body each minute I died
moving your thigh could disinter me
from a grave in a distant city:
your breasts deserted by cloth, clothed in twilight
filled me with tears, sweet cups of flesh.
Yes, to touch two fingers made us worlds
stars, waters, promontories, chaos
swooning in elements without form or time
come down through long seas among sea marvels
embracing like survivors in our islands.
This I think happened to us together
though now no shadow of it flickers in your hands
your eyes look down on ordinary streets
If I talk to you I might be a bird
with a message, a dead man, a photograph.
poem by Keith Douglas
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Content
THOUGH singing but the shy and sweet
Untrod by multitudes of feet,
Songs bounded by the brook and wheat,
I have not failed in this,
The only lure my woodland note,
To win all England’s whitest throat!
O bards in gold and fire who wrote,
Be yours all other bliss!
poem by Norman Rowland Gale
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Pure Fairness
Fairest beauty by blotch of lust untouched
That shimmers like still lakes of early morn
And not a wave to stir upon is forged
Thus before her, randiness be forlorn
And all that beauty that does cover you
Ne'er shall lust brag thou wander in its cool
Nor a phallus disgrace thy glorious blue
Nor a dropp of red ooze from thy sealed pool
Let the soiled and coital maidens behold
Such pureness their bragging shall never own
Such flawless beauty to raunch unsold
Be ungraspable by their filthy own
Behold, sweet fairness unmarked, scenic and pure
Behold, her - to these lines the pristined muse,
She's the coax to lust - and a wasted lure
Behold! , sweet fairness by lust unused.
Soiled beauty and fair i do chastise thee
Sweet beauty untouched i panegyrize thee.
poem by Mbanaso Samuel
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Temptation
Tempt me. Tease me.
Send me whirling 'round.
Lure me. Entice me.
My feet are off the ground.
Sensual explosions
invite me to explore
just what's waiting
right beyond the door.
Shall I give in to
my senses one by one?
Or deny them and wonder
if I'd come undone?
Safety's not knowing
if I'd ever be
daring, courageous,
spirited, carefree.
Tempt me. Tease me.
Send me whirling 'round.
Lure me. Entice me.
I'm waiting to be found.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Wanderer
I saw the sunset-colored sands,
The Nile like flowing fire between,
Where Rameses stares forth serene,
And Ammon's heavy temple stands.
I saw the rocks where long ago,
Above the sea that cries and breaks,
Swift Perseus with Medusa's snakes
Set free the maiden white like snow.
And many skies have covered me,
And many winds have blown me forth,
And I have loved the green, bright north,
And I have loved the cold, sweet sea.
But what to me are north and south,
And what the lure of many lands,
Since you have leaned to catch my hands
And lay a kiss upon my mouth.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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Daughters Of War
Space beats the ruddy freedom of their limbs,
Their naked dances with man's spirit naked
By the root side of the tree of life
(The under side of things
And shut from earth's profoundest eyes).
I saw in prophetic gleams
These mighty daughters in their dances
Beckon each soul aghast from its crimson corpse
To mix in their glittering dances :
I heard the mighty daughters' giant sighs
In sleepless passion for the sons of valour
And envy of the days fo flesh,
Barring their love with mortal boughs across-
The mortal boughs, the mortal tree of life.
The old bark burnt with iron wars
They blow to a live flame
To char the young green clays
And reach the occult soul; they have no softer lure,
No softer lure than the savage ways of death.
We were satisfied of our lords the moon and the sun
To take our wage of sleep and bread and warmth-
These maidens came-these strong everliving Amazons,
And in an easy might their wrists
Of night's sway and noon's sway the sceptres brake,
Clouding the wild, the soft lustres of our eyes.
Clouding the wild lustres, the clinging tender lights ;
Driving the darkness into the flame of clay
With the Amazonian wind of them
Over our corroding faces
That must be broken-broken for evermore,
So the soul can leap out
Into their huge embraces,
Though there are human faces
Best sculptures of Deity,
And sinews lusted after
By the Archangels tall,
Even these must leap to the love-heat of these maidens
From the flame of terrene days,
Leaving grey ashes to the wind-to the wind.
One (whose great lifted face,
Where wisdom's strength and beauty's strength
And the thewed strength of large beasts
Moved and merged, gloomed and lit)
Was speaking, surely, as the earth-men's earth fell away ;
Whose new hearing drank the sound
Where pictures, lutes, and mountains mixed
With the loosed spirit of a thought, Essenced to language thus
'My sisters force their males
From the doomed earth, from the doomed glee
And hankering of hearts.
Frail hands gleam up through the human quagmire, and lips of ash
Seem to wail, as in sad faded paintings
Far-sunken and strange.
My sisters have their males
Clean of the dust of old days
That clings about those white hands
And yearns in those voices sad :
But these shall not see them,
Or think of them in any days or years ;
They are my sisters' lovers in other days and years.'
poem by Isaac Rosenberg
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The Heart Of The Sourdough
There where the mighty mountains bare their fangs unto the moon,
There where the sullen sun-dogs glare in the snow-bright, bitter noon,
And the glacier-glutted streams sweep down at the clarion call of June.
There where the livid tundras keep their tryst with the tranquil snows;
There where the silences are spawned, and the light of hell-fire flows
Into the bowl of the midnight sky, violet, amber and rose.
There where the rapids churn and roar, and the ice-floes bellowing run;
Where the tortured, twisted rivers of blood rush to the setting sun --
I've packed my kit and I'm going, boys, ere another day is done.
* * * * *
I knew it would call, or soon or late, as it calls the whirring wings;
It's the olden lure, it's the golden lure, it's the lure of the timeless things,
And to-night, oh, God of the trails untrod, how it whines in my heart-strings!
I'm sick to death of your well-groomed gods, your make believe and your show;
I long for a whiff of bacon and beans, a snug shakedown in the snow;
A trail to break, and a life at stake, and another bout with the foe.
With the raw-ribbed Wild that abhors all life, the Wild that would crush and rend,
I have clinched and closed with the naked North, I have learned to defy and defend;
Shoulder to shoulder we have fought it out -- yet the Wild must win in the end.
I have flouted the Wild. I have followed its lure, fearless, familiar, alone;
By all that the battle means and makes I claim that land for mine own;
Yet the Wild must win, and a day will come when I shall be overthrown.
Then when as wolf-dogs fight we've fought, the lean wolf-land and I;
Fought and bled till the snows are red under the reeling sky;
Even as lean wolf-dog goes down will I go down and die.
poem by Robert William Service
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Era of the Butterfly
The butterfly with golden wings
Soars through summer sunlight
Over waves of endless time;
Love drifts on gossamer wings
In the Era of the Butterfly
Shimmering dewdrops tenderly kiss
Bright roses’ ruby lips
Laughing brooks babble downstream
Following paths of endless miles
In the Era of the Butterfly
While a breeze is softly stirring
Graceful leaves of inland trees,
By a sea of blue reflections
A mermaid’s combing lengths
Of her shimmer-green hair
As she wonders of her loved one
Beneath the sea queen’s throne of rock
Darting fish with scales like nacre
Play sea-games deep below
Where waters flow blue-green
Through glowing-color forest fronds
Growing thick from sea-bed sands
In this era hope and love
Spring up for all those blessed
By a touch of feather wings
In bliss eternal they intend to live
Virgin earth sweetly sings ‘I am
Alive, thriving richly gold and green’
As fresh blue waters of her lakes
Cast sparks of joy in sunlight,
Grasses of a rich-soil earth
Sigh a chorus of contentment
Directed by flirtatious zephyrs
A time of idyll, of peaceful coexistence
With no reason to ever quarrel;
The winged one will ensure the truth
No being is allowed to be
Superior to another
In the Era of the Butterfly
** ** ** ** **
poem by Erein Emrys
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The battle field
To marry too soon will land a woman
In a bad husband; her fate is sealed.
To marry too late will make a woman
Miss a good husband; her charms faded.
If her fortune got her a good husband,
There might be women to lure him away.
If her fate earned her a bad husband,
There would be fine men to lure her away.
A woman’s life is a battle field.
15.12.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sperminator
'sperminator', sperm, man, men, perms, pets, am, in, it, is, eat, tea, tar, seat, era, into, an;
And like the time of the wheat harvest!
But you do really resemble my mother.
'Sperminator', art, part, set, rats, ants, tears, ears, pears, sear, main, same, sore, tore, sort;
And like the time of the wheat harvest!
But you do really resemble my sister.
'Sperminator', ten, tan, nets, neat, near, stream, teams, means, sap, raps, times, mates, sit;
And like the time of the wheat harvest!
But you fo really resemble my brother.
'Sperminator', trips, sip, tips, nips, pins, maps, pans, naps, rear, sport, pots, tapes, pore, as;
And like the time of the wheat harvest!
But you really resemble my friend.
'Sperminator', some, mine, into, spot, reaps, pits, at, rapes, tops, rims, ate, sea, sat, more;
And like the time of the wheat harvest!
But you really resemble my neighbour.
Lone, cone, zone, done, bone, gone, hone, none, pone, tone, sure, cure, pure, lure!
You are now awakened by the tree of love;
And like your love in the land of your muse.
Line, wine, fine, dine, cine, sine, mine, nine, pine, tine, vine, sure, cure, pure, lure!
Jealousy is as crule as the grave! !
And like the hate in the land of your muse.
Wake, fake, lake, take, make, bake, cake, hake, quake, rake, sake, sure, cure, pure, lure!
And like what you are doing now in the dark! !
But your deeds are always notified by your acts.
Thunder, founder, under, bounder, rounder, sounder, sure, cure, pure, lure!
Awakened under the big apple tree;
But your muse is like the sounds of war!
Hour, four, our, sour, pour, dour, jour, lour, tour, your, fuel, cruel, duel, gruel!
But who bore you and brought you forth?
For the bombs are now killing all of us! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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