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Cupid Smiles

Swift is the arrow
from Cupid’s bow,
where it will fly,
nobody knows.
Will it land in you,
or will it land in me?
No one will see it,
until it is there.
The world will then notice,
the love in their eyes,
and Cupid will smile
as he watches from high
at our antics below.
Then he will take another
arrow from his quiver
and again it will fly
as he sits there
smiling from on high.

poem by David Harris
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Oh Cupid, Oh My Love

Let the gentle breeze,
Flow through me
For I feel so much dizzy
Because it cupid who lives in me

Oh cupid, oh my love
Strong and desiring cupid
For you fame flies like dove
For the man who would not believe is so stupid

Draw your arrow from within
And struck through my heart
For you there is nothing like sin
Who wouldn't believe that except the madman in heart

For you cupid I praise and behold
Even when I wonder through land unsuveyed
My heart would never be sick from cold
And my friend would grow jealous everyday

No one knows you
Better than I do
For you reside within me
Oh cupid, oh my love

poem by Samuel Donkor
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Once Cupid

Love can come from perfect strangers
or from someone we know very well.
It never lets us know until the last moment
where it will be coming from.
When cupid shoots his arrow
in the back or in the front.
You might as well give up
because the outcome is going to be the same.
You will lower your defences
and love will walk all over you.
You don’t stand a chance
once cupid has shot his arrow
and it has hit its mark.

25 November 2008

poem by David Harris
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The Arrow

An arrow flew right through the air.
It flew from your eyes to my heart.
I felt the pierce but did not care
for I let the pain depart.

Only the pleasure from the eyes that sent it
was what I looked upon.
I knew I could withstand many arrows
until your eyes were gone.

Cupid, Cupid where have you been?
I didn't know you exist.
I thought you were just a fable
with a fictitious list.

But that list included me at last
and the arrow was so real.
I accepted it and praised it
for how it made me feel.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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O Cupid, Cupid; Get Your Bow!

Arming down along the stream,
Along the sparkling water,
And past the pool where lilies gleam,
There comes the squatter’s daughter.

Her eyes are kind; her lips are warm;
And like a flower her face is;
The habit shows her bonny form
As graceful as a Grace’s.

O I’ll be mad of love, I know;
My head she’ll surely addle;
O Cupid, Cupid; get your bow;
And shoot her from the saddle!

For, like a bird on breezes waft,
She quickly, quickly passes;
O Cupid, Cupid, draw your shaft;
And bring her to the grasses!

O she is worthy game for you;
And there is none to match her.
So, Cupid, send your arrow true;
And I’ll be there to catch her!

poem by Henry Lawson
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Poison Arrow

If I were to say to you
Can you keep a secret?
Would you know just what to do
Or where to keep it?
Then I sayi love you
And foul the situation
Hey girl I thought we were
The right combination.
Who broke my heart?
You did, you did
Bow to the target,
Blame cupid, cupid
You think youre smart
Stupid, stupid.
_ chorus:
Shoot that poison arrow to my heart
Shoot that poison arrow
Shoot that poison arrow to my heart
Shoot that poison arrow
No rhythm in cymbals
No tempo in drums
Love on arrival
She comes when she comes
Right on the target
But wide of the mark
What I thought was fire
Was only the spark
The sweetest melody
Is an unheard refrain
So lower your sights,
Yeah but raise your aim
Raise your aim
Who broke my heart?
You did, you did
Bow to the target
Blame cupid, cupid
You think youre smart
Stupid, stupid
_ chorus
I thought you loved me but it seems you dont care
I care enough to know I can never love you
Who broke my heart
You did, you did
Bow to the target
Blame cupid
You think youre smart
Thats stupid
Right from the start
When you knew we would part
_ chorus to end

song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cupid Mistaken

As after noon, one summer's day,
Venus stood bathing in a river;
Cupid a-shooting went that way,
New strung his bow, new fill'd his quiver.

With skill he chose his sharpest dart:
With all his might his bow he drew:
Swift to his beauteous parent's heart
The too well-guided arrow flew.

I faint! I die! the Goddess cry'd:
O cruel, could'st thou find none other,
To wreck thy spleen on? Parricide!
Like Nero, thou hast slain thy mother.

Poor Cupid sobbing scarce could speak;
Indeed, Mamma, I did not know ye:
Alas! how easy my mistake?
I took you for your likeness, Cloe.

poem by Matthew Prior
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Cupid

How could I have been so stupid?
I should have known you were Cupid
when your arrow pierced my heart.

How could I have been so unaware?
I should have felt that you were there.
But love is strange and plays its part

in most unusual ways you know.
I should have captured that special glow
and grabbed hold from the start.

It took me some time to understand.
I should have held out my hand
and never let us be apart.

The emptiness that hit me hard
made me know to be on guard,
to never be stupid, just be smart.

Send one more arrow my way.
Pierce my heart on some other day.
Please dear Cupid, play your part.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Side By Side

There was no epiphany,
no thunder from the skies
that day;
nothing so drama-filled;
it was more a soft release
a settling in;
a peek into your soul
by me,
which said
this person
is the one
I'm with.

It was not Love' Bells ringing
from steeple tops
or rose petal garden paths,
but it is Devotion's Arrow which penetrates deeper still
than the ones Cupid carries.

Devotions shaft
did not pierce,
it did not seek
the penetrations Cupid does
there is no magic potion on the arrow tip;
rather my feathered missile
flew all round you
lifting up the two of us,
forever bound.

Young Lovers face inward
looking into each other eyes,
but Love's Maturity
is these Lovers
side by side
facing toward Eternity.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A Cupid's Arrow

The scab where Cupid's arrow had entered
had barely healed, leaving just a wisp of a scar
evident there; but the inner pain remained.

The sounds of its shaft, its purple burning shaft
is still present
to my muffled memory
which flinches from its approaching sound
its whoosh, its dull thud
piercing a heart valve,
denying blood to my feverished brain
which sounded the alarm that love
seen by many as Cupids blessing
but for me it was an arrow emptying out
my life's blood
outside and down, plunging
drawn by gravity
falling onto the maroon carpeting
invisible almost
while all around me urged that I celebrate
but I knew too
that heart valves burst too in love's first
volley
and that Cupid
is too, a mixed blessing.

But how to remove an embedded shaft
without causing the wound to shed one's very life blood,
or is it best to leave it in place, count the bliss
and ignore the tremendous event
many saw as unvarnished and good?

Why must Cupid's arrow steal from me my identify
in favor of a new merging one?

Why must Cupid's arrow involve blood?
And who is to explain the scab and pain
the wound brings
when love leaves
that hollow,
now bleeding vacuum,
which grows a scab
sometimes leaves a scar
plastered over with
urgings of 'you must move on.'

It is not that love is bad. It is not.

It is that it is transforming and the transforming
sometimes leaves me without a me I had known all my life
and the new me is merged with another
if they leave
I wonder what then what will I be left with?

Who has not pondered this?

Life then is the road traveled
strewn with Cupid's discarded arrows
and pained souls marching.

Yet, If I hear yet again

the shaft's approach
that whooshing sound
that Cupid's arrow makes
I know, I once again
will bare my chest
and take its plunge full on
because that is how Love is Made.

I remind myself of all of this as I prepare for the date.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A Little Left Of Center

(steve dale jones/billy henderson)
I walk in the rain and whistle a tune
I talk to the man up there in the moon
I know I may sound like somebody gone insane
Im a fool about you baby but my heart cant explain
Its a little left of center
By heavenly design
Love gets carried away
And goes wild at times
When cupid aims his arrow
Its right on the mark
A little left of center
Just like my crazy heart
It leaps like a frog when you touch my hand
It means like a drum in a marching band
Cant help what it does I just follow where it leads
How my heart feels about you baby makes perfect sense to me
Its a little left of center
By heavenly design
Love gets carried away
And goes wild at times
When cupid aims his arrow
Its right on the mark
A little left of center
Just like my crazy heart
When cupid aims his arrow
Its right on the mark
A little left of center
Just like my crazy heart

song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cupid Abroad Was Lated

CUPID abroad was lated in the night,
His wings were wet with ranging in the rain;
Harbor he sought, to me he took his flight
To dry his plumes. I heard the boy complain:
I oped the door and granted his desire,
I rose myself, and made the wag a fire.

Looking more narrow by the fire's flame,
I spied his quiver hanging by his back.
Doubting the boy might my misfortune frame,
I would have gone, for fear of further wrack;
But what I drad did me, poor wretch, betide,
For forth he drew an arrow from his side.

He pierced the quick, and I began to start,
A pleasing wound but that it was too high;
His shaft procured a sharp yet sugared smart.
Away he flew, for why is wings were dry;
But left the arrow sticking in my breast,
That sore I grieved I welcomed such a guest.

poem by Robert Greene
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Apelles' Song

Cupid and my Campaspe played
At cards for kisses; Cupid paid:
He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,
His mother's doves, and team of sparrows;
Loses them too; then down he throws
The coral of his lip, the rose
Growing on's cheek (but none knows how);
With these, the crystal of his brow,
And then the dimple on his chin;
All these did my Campaspe win:
And last he set her both his eyes -
She won, and Cupid blind did rise.

O Love! has she done this to thee?
What shall, alas! become of me?

poem by John Lyly
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Cupid and My Campaspe

Cupid and my Campaspe played
At cards for kisses;
Cupid paid.
He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,
His mother's doves and team of sparrows,
Loses them too; then down he throws
The coral of his lip, the rose
Growing on's cheek (but none knows how),
With these the crystal of his brow,
And then the dimple of his chin:
All these did my Campaspe win.
At last he set her both his eyes;
She won, and Cupid blind did rise.
O Love! has she done this to thee?
What shall, alas, become of me?

poem by John Lyly
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Love Sonnet 45 I fall asleep with thoughts of you in mind,

I fall asleep with thoughts of you in mind,
And think the same, the moment I awake,
Each day turns out like past made to rewind,
And every night, the same wish would I make;
I pray respite from such times flowing by,
Lest all Eternity gets spent this way,
If Fate it be, some fools would still ask why,
When all it needs is but for love to stay;
For love has wings, and swift as Hermes' flights,
And pierces deep by Cupid's arrow tips,
It catches at the very first of sights,
And dies, when left unspoken by numb lips;
.....Love comes, and love goes by, like tide of sea,
.....But it gives life an all time high for me.

poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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Children Of Love

The holy boy
Went from his mother out in the cool of the day
Over the sun-parched fields
And in among the olives shining green and shining grey.

There was no sound,
No smallest voice of any shivering stream.
Poor sinless little boy,
He desired to play and to sing; he could only sigh and dream.

Suddenly came
Running along to him naked, with curly hair,
That rogue of the lovely world,
That other beautiful child whom the virgin Venus bare.

The holy boy
Gazed with those sad blue eyes that all men know.
Impudent Cupid stood
Panting, holding an arrow and pointing his bow.

(Will you not play?
Jesus, run to him, run to him, swift for our joy.
Is he not holy, like you?
Are you afraid of his arrows, O beautiful dreaming boy?)

And now they stand
Watching one another with timid gaze;
Youth has met youth in the wood,
But holiness will not change its melancholy ways.

Cupid at last
Draws his bow and softly lets fly a dart.
Smile for a moment, sad world! -
It has grazed the white skin and drawn blood from the sorrowful heart.

Now, for delight,
Cupid tosses his locks and goes wantonly near;
But the child that was born to the cross
Has let fall on his cheek, for the sadness of life, a compassionate tear.

Marvellous dream!
Cupid has offered his arrows for Jesus to try
He as offered his bow for the game.
But Jesus went weeping away, and left him there wondering why.

poem by Harold Monro
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Across A Crowded Room

Two hearts are beckoning
from across a crowded room.
Two faces glance
with a distant stare,
but will theirs eyes see
what their hearts feel there.

Strangers, who are only yards apart,
yet only faintly see the other.
What finger of fate
will chance to get them
to see one another
finally getting them together?

Maybe if cupid is standing close
loaded with arrows in his quiver,
he might sent an arrow to one
and another to the other.
Then their far away glances
might fall on one another.

3 September 2011

poem by David Harris
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Cards and Kisses

CUPID and my Campaspe play'd
At cards for kisses--Cupid paid:
He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,
His mother's doves, and team of sparrows;
Loses them too; then down he throws
The coral of his lips, the rose
Growing on 's cheek (but none knows how);
With these, the crystal of his brow,
And then the dimple of his chin:
All these did my Campaspe win.
At last he set her both his eyes--
She won, and Cupid blind did rise.
   O Love! has she done this for thee?
   What shall, alas! become of me?

poem by John Lyly
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If Cupid

Love can hit you
no matter where you are
whether it be at a funeral
or at a fun fair.
We may not know it at the time,
but cupid always shoots
his arrows straight and true.
You could be on a bus, plane or train
if cupid has his arrows set
there is nothing you can do.
You cannot duck or weave.
If cupid has his arrows set
love will come to you.
You maybe dancing at a ballroom,
if cupid spies a different partner
it is all over for you.
You will not see it coming
and will not even feel a thing
until you are the church
slipping on the wedding ring.
For if cupid has you in his sights,
there is nothing you can do.

25 February 2011

poem by David Harris
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A Strand Of Hair

Hills and mountains are dotted
across our landscape fair,
at the top of either
you are at the roof of the world
looking down upon
all who live below.
You stand and gaze at the world
an all the riches it bestows.
Seeing everyone’s destiny
in a strand of hair.

Loves maybe invisible to the naked eye,
but you have to be blind
not to see it in someone else’s eyes.
Strangers pass on a street
neither ever seen the other before.
There is an attraction
that makes them stop and look around;
soon they are together
melting into one another’s arms.

Love is just a chance meeting
between strangers somewhere.
No one can prepare for it.
How can you prepare for something
you never know when it will happen?
The only thing you can do
is carry on doing what you have to do
and let cupid’s arrow fly
when and if it must.

You maybe smitten
if his aim is true,
in the meantime don’t lie
awake at night wishing for
what tomorrow might never bring.
Just go out and live a life
as normal as can be.
For love and cupid will seize
a chance when you are unaware.

28 January 2007

poem by David Harris
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Cupid’s Arrow

To those that know love’s sting:

Powerful bow, strung and drawn
Steady aim, Cupid's eyes narrow
With finesse, no need for brawn
Thru lover’s heart casts an arrow

ROTMS

poem by Ray Lucero
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