Mnemosyne
THOU fill'st from the winged chalice of the soul
Thy lamp, O Memory, fire-winged to its goal.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Realize My Mind
I wake in the morning to the darkness of my soul
Look into your eyes and my body senses the fire below
Move myself close to you and lay upon your breast
Reach up and light your long black cigarette
My winged angel your embrace surrounds me
You realize my mind
My winged angel your touch binds me
You realize my mind
My winged angel cast your spell on me
You realize my mind
My winged angel give myself to you
You have all of me
You move smooth, dance slow I feel your dark tenderness
Wings around me, mesmerize me love to serve my hearts temptress
Feeling free touching you, you accept your little pet
You have a walk so bold and I know
Your eyes burn me to death
My winged angel your embrace surrounds me
You realize my mind
My winged angel your touch binds me
You realize my mind
My winged angel cast your spell on me
You realize my mind
My winged angel give myself to you
You have all of me
I give my words to you to please you each and everyway
They spring forth from truths you release within me with the games you play
This girl is grateful to be so uninhibited and free for you
This girl knows girl is so happy to serve you
My winged angel your embrace surrounds me
You realize my mind
My winged angel your touch binds me
You realize my mind
My winged angel cast your spell on me
You realize my mind
My winged angel give myself to you
You have all of me
poem by Barbara Vanier
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One Winged Angel
one winged angel
stands in the rain
crying out for help
crying of the pain
someone help her
the one winged angel
is going crazy
the one winged angel is going insane
she slits her wrists
she screams his name
crying out for help
crying 'hes to blame'
the one winged ange
dies heartbroken
the one winged angel
dies inside
now all he feels is guilt
knowing that hes
the fight of her life
poem by Kristyann Celello
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The Glow-Worm To Her Love
BENEATH cool ferns, in dewy grass,
Among the leaves that fringe the stream,
I hear the feet of lovers pass,
--I hide all day, and dream.
But when the night, with wide soft wings,
Droops on the trembling waiting wood,
And lulls the restless woodland things
Within its solitude,
Ah, then my soft green lamp I light,
That thou may'st find me by its fire--
Come, crown me, O my winged delight
My darling, my desire.
Yet they who praise the lamp I bear
Have never a word of praise for thee,
My love, my life, my King of Air,
Who lightest the lamp in me.
Thine, thine should be the praise they give
My King, who art all praise above,
Since but for thee I dream and live,
And light the lamp of love.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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My light winged angel (leslie Alexis)
My light winged angel guided me
through the torment or another being
He made me see
My 'loved one'
did not love me
He cared and he listened
he did not hesitate
when i told my situation
He sat and siad
'listen anouk'
' Abuse is how they get control'
'You must leave him'
'You must get help'
well my angel
I now see
what you were always trying to tell me
You took me under your wing
and made me understand
That real love was not going to be with this man
My light wing angel
you saved my life
And to you I would give
every sacrifice
My light winged angel
I love you so
My light winged angel you do not know
How much you did
and saved my life
I sat there still
doing nothing but crying
and thinking....'Thank-You'......
And this my light winged angel
is what you did for me
you saved my life
and took me in
My light winged angel
I cannot say
how much I owe today
for your kindness
and this I must say
I love you
My light winged angel
Friends forever
and today
(hehehehehe Thank you leslie sooooo soooo sooooo very much, you are a true and dear friend, and forever, I hope we will always be)
poem by Amy Ormonde
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Transition
Awake my soul!
Thou shalt not creep and crawl—
An earth-bound creature, pitiful and small,
Whose weak ambition knows no higher goal!
O wistful soul,
When morning sings,
Forgetful of the night,
Bathe all thy restless being in the light;
Till 'neath the mesh that close about thee clings
Thou feel thy wings!
Then find life's door,—
Trusting the instinct true
That points to Heaven and the aerial blue
A wingèd thing, impelled for evermore
To soar and soar!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Mine and Thine (1904)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The homing bee
You are belted with gold, little brother of mine,
Yellow gold, like the sun
That spills in the west, as a chalice of wine
When feasting is done.
You are gossamer-winged, little brother of mine,
Tissue winged, like the mist
That broods where the marshes melt into a line
Of vapour sun-kissed.
You are laden with sweets, little brother of mine,
Flower sweets, like the touch
Of hands we have longed for, of arms that entwine,
Of lips that love much.
You are better than I, little brother of mine,
Than I, human-souled,
For you bring from the blossoms and red summer shine,
For others, your gold.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Sonnet: A Poet’s Greatness
Most lucky, thou art, O Bard and winged Muse!
After thy death, thy soul remains on earth;
Thy God-giv’n gift- how well thou put to use!
And through thy passionate poems gave mirth.
Maybe, thy stay short wasn’t comfortable,
And thy heart got plunged in sadness so oft;
Maybe, thou had to live in a stable!
In God’s heart, thou shall have a corner soft.
What truths thou writ in poems beauteous!
What good advice thou rendered to live life!
How well thou showed men ought to be righteous!
How soothing balm, thou bestowed men in strife!
O great soul, thine place in Heaven’s assured,
O fisherman of souls, thy rest tho’ measured.
poem by John Celes
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Ballades V - Of His Choice of a Sepulchre
HERE I ’d come when weariest!
Here the breast
Of the Windberg’s tufted over
Deep with bracken; here his crest
Takes the west,
Where the wide-winged hawk doth hover.
Silent here are lark and plover;
In the cover
Deep below, the cushat best
Loves his mate, and croons above
O’er their nest,
Where the wide-winged hawk doth hover.
Bring me here, Life’s tired-out guest,
To the blest
Bed that waits the weary rover,—
Here should failure be confest;
Ends my quest,
Where the wide-winged hawk doth hover!
ENVOY
Friend, or stranger kind, or lover,
Ah, fulfil a last behest,
Let me rest
Where the wide-winged hawk doth hover!
poem by Andrew Lang
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Inspiration
Not like a daring, bold, aggressive boy,
Is inspiration, eager to pursue,
But rather like a maiden, fond, yet coy,
Who gives herself to him who best doth woo.
Once she may smile, or thrice, thy soul to fire,
In passing by, but when she turns her face,
Thou must persist and seek her with desire,
If thou wouldst win the favor of her grace.
And if, like some winged bird she cleaves the air,
And leaves thee spent and stricken on the earth,
Still must thou strive to follow even there,
That she may know thy valor and thy worth.
Then shall she come unveiling all her charms,
Giving thee joy for pain, and smiles for tears;
Then shalt thou clasp her with possessing arms,
The while she murmurs music in thine ears.
But ere her kiss has faded from thy cheek,
She shall flee from thee over hill and glade,
So must thou seek and ever seek and seek
For each new conquest of this phantom maid.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Cot death
I dream so, oh so, so high of ye
Night and the soul wilt rest
And raise me on an oncoming cloud
Aloft to my angel, my angel child
That winged my hearts flutters with joy
I wish to bring ye young one home
And clothe thy bones with flesh and blood
But all I have is gone, my seed in the grave
Ye have flowered and died in spring;
Our little winged soul is ye lost like sheep
When I count my dying prayers and weep
Don't bleat child, don't bleat!
In the holy meadow, sleep, sleep, sleep...
Until that time again we meet.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Until that time again we meet
I dream so, oh so, so high of ye
Night and the soul wilt rest
And raise me on an oncoming cloud
Aloft to my angel, my angel child
That winged my hearts flutters with joy
I wish to bring ye young one home
And clothe thy bones with flesh and blood
But all I have is gone, my seed in the grave
Ye have flowered and died in spring;
Our little winged soul is ye lost like sheep
When I count my dying prayers and weep
Don’t bleat child, don’t bleat!
In the holy meadow, sleep, sleep, sleep...
Until that time again we meet.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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The Moon Maiden's Song
Sleep! Cast thy canopy
Over this sleeper's brain,
Dim grow his memory,
When he wake again.
Love stays a summer night,
Till lights of morning come;
Then takes her winged flight
Back to her starry home.
Sleep! Yet thy days are mine;
Love's seal is over thee:
Far though my ways from thine,
Dim though thy memory.
Love stays a summer night,
Till lights of morning come;
Then takes her winged flight
Back to her starry home.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Love Is Winged For Two
Love is winged for two,
In the worst he weathers,
When their hearts are tied;
But if they divide,
O too true!
Cracks a globe, and feathers, feathers,
Feathers all the ground bestrew.
I was breast of morning sea,
Rosy plume on forest dun,
I the laugh in rainy fleeces,
While with me
She made one.
Now must we pick up our pieces,
For that then so winged were we.
poem by George Meredith
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Rain King
When I think of heaven
Deliver me in a black-winged bird
I think of flying down into a sea of pens and feathers
And all other instruments of faith
and sex and God in the belly of a black-winged bird.
Don't try to feed me
I've been here before and I deserve a little more
I belong in the service of the Queen
I belong anywhere but in between
She's been crying
song performed by by Counting Crows from August And Everything After
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memory Slate
Pen friend reflections
imprinted on memory
slate state winged wonder
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Soul on Fire
Soul on Fire
I know what I'm doing
this is my passion
What's worth doing
Soul of Fire
My heart just skipped a beat
I can feel the feeling
from my head
down to my feet
Soul of Fire
yearning to succeed
what I've always wanted
what I really need
Soul on Fire
look inside my burning soul
to be a poet
is my goal
poem by Summer Song
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Life (Coates 2)
Thou art more ancient than the oldest skies,
But youth forever glances from thine eyes;
Time wars against thee, and consumes thy fires,
Yet, wingèd, thou from ashes dost arise!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Dream Murderer
DO NOT think ill of him
this giver of misfortune
this killer of your dreams
for he does not think ill of you
he is the waker of your sleepy nights
so you may be like the virgin
prepared with the oil and the light
and the lamp
for the thief
think of him as a portend
a harbinger
an angel for the coming of your
many deaths
so you can live
forever
think of yourself as the child
who wants to have backbones and wings
and venom
when he is not gone you are ready for your own battles
armored knight of the night
vertebrate manager
winged god
dragon ready with its mouth and tongue of fire
venomous snake
holy cow.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sonnet IX: Passion And Worship
One flame-winged brought a white-winged harp-player
Even where my lady and I lay all alone;
Saying: “Behold, this minstrel is unknown;
Bid him depart, for I am minstrel here:
Only my strains are to Love's dear ones dear.”
Then said I: “Through thine hautboy's rapturous tone
Unto my lady still this harp makes moan,
And still she deems the cadence deep and clear.”
Then said my lady: “Thou art Passion of Love,
And this Love's Worship: both he plights to me.
Thy mastering music walks the sunlit sea:
But where wan water trembles in the grove
And the wan moon is all the light thereof,
This harp still makes my name its voluntary.”
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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An August Midnight
I
A shaded lamp and a waving blind,
And the beat of a clock from a distant floor:
On this scene enter--winged, horned, and spined -
A longlegs, a moth, and a dumbledore;
While 'mid my page there idly stands
A sleepy fly, that rubs its hands . . .
II
Thus meet we five, in this still place,
At this point of time, at this point in space.
- My guests parade my new-penned ink,
Or bang at the lamp-glass, whirl, and sink.
"God's humblest, they!" I muse. Yet why?
They know Earth-secrets that know not I.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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