Wilting Flowers
Like the wilting flowers
sometimes, love can die away.
The beauty that first enhanced us
withers as days and years pass.
Until like the candle, its light goes dim
and love finally fades into a distant past
to where it once was supreme.
We cry out for it to return,
our eyes filled with bitter tears,
but once gone it cannot return
from the past where it is sent.
We must let it go
to enable us to carry on.
14 January 2011
poem by David Harris
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Christmas Day
A young gentleman came riding past,
On a snow blue winters day,
He asked to drink by our fire
And I was pleased to let him stay,
He drank there quietly for a while,
And then he turned and said to me,
Your eyes are green,
Like summer grass,
Your lips are red,
Like a fresh cut rose,
Your hair is soft,
Like an Irish stream,
And your voice,
Is filled with sweet beauty
And the last words I heard him say
Were I shall return,
For you,
My love,
On Christmas Day
And the night will come,
But I won't sleep,
As I watch the stars that lead him,
I cannot place where he is,
But still my heart goes with him,
I'm saving all my Sunday clothes
For the day that I'll be leaving,
Father knows,
My sister knows,
And my friends,
They're happy for me,
And the priest he says,
You should thank God,
For the blessing,
Of such beauty
And the last words
I heard him say,
Were I shall return,
For you,
My love,
On Christmas Day
I shall return,
For you,
My love,
On Christmas Day
(On Christmas Day)
(I shall return for you my love)
And the last words
I heard him say
Were the last words
I ever
Heard him say
I shall return,
For you,
My love
On Christmas Day
I swear,
I will return,
On Christmas Day,
And yes,
I shall return,
On Christmas Day,
I shall return,
For you,
On Christmas Day
My love,
I will return,
On Christmas Day
I shall return,
My love
On Christmas Day
On Christmas Day
song performed by by Dido
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beyond The Distant Hills
The sun is shining for me,
beyond the distant hills.
Where my love is waiting,
for my return.
The water is sweet to drink,
beyond the distant hills,
where a warm fire is waiting,
for my return.
The grass bends in the breeze,
beyond the distant hills.
Where my love’s heart yearns
for my return.
A candle lights a window,
beyond the distant hills.
Where someone keeps a watchful eye,
for my return.
Beyond the distant hills,
where no clouds gather,
and no storms darken the sky.
Beyond the distant hills,
bright eyes wait for my return.
Beyond the distant hills,
my dreams will come true,
and I promised myself one day I will get there.
25 April 1988
poem by David Harris
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On Christmas Day
A young gentleman came riding past
On a snow blue winters day
He asked to drink, by our fire,
And I was pleased to let him stay
He drank there quietly for a while,
Then he turned and said to me
Your eyes are green, like summer grass,
Your lips are red like a fresh cut rose,
Your hair is soft like an irish stream
And your voice is filled with sweet beauty
And the last words I heard him say
Were I shall return, for you, my love, on christmas day
The night will come but I wont sleep,
As I watch the stars that lead him,
I cannot place where his is,
But still my heart goes with him,
Im savin all my sunday clothes
For the day the day that Ill be leavin
Father knows, my sister knows,
And my friends, theyre happy for me
And the priest he says, you should thank god,
For the blessing of such beauty,
And the last words I heard him say
Were I shall return for you, my love, on christmas day
I shall return for you, my love, on christmas day.
And the last words I heard him say
Were the last words I ever heard him say
I shall return for you, my love, on christmas day
I swear, I will return on christmas day,
And yes, I shall return on christmas day
I shall return, for you, on christmas day,
My love I will return on christmas day,
I shall return, my love on christmas day
On christmas day...
song performed by by Dido
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Joy Will Return
When in a pit of deep despair
And no light pierces the dark.
Remember there will be a day
When joy will return.
When hopeless tears are shed
And life seems bitter, dead.
Remember there will be a day
When joy will return
When days seem drear and sad
And you feel you'll never laugh.
Remember there will be a day
When joy will return.
Then suddenly the day will dawn
And you give that first guilty laugh.
You will know deep inside,
Though won't admit,
Joy has returned
P H Brookes Copyright 2011
poem by Paul Brookes
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Happy Now
A date has been set,
I said 'Yes', though I do not remember how!
He kissed me softly, my eyes were wet,
Perhaps finally I can be happy now.
The ring is on my finger,
And the veil cover's my brow;
As I march, my eyes on him linger,
And I am happy now.
My beloved he loves me well,
When first he breathed his vows;
I felt my bosom swell,
And I am truely happy now!
Thus as it is, he return's to his ships,
I wait for his return as the days count down,
Although his love I do sorely miss...
I assure you I am happy now.
As time wears on, his memory fades,
His love for me has changed somehow;
Although my love for him is still the same,
I wonder...Are we happy now?
More 'oft than not, hurtful words are spoken,
after swearing 'for better or for worse' he did vow!
And though my heart be broken,
Behold! The golden tolken,
That *PROVES* I'm happy now!
My tears have been my food night and day,
sleep is the only solitude I've found,
My friend's I've pushed away,
Truely I am not happy now...
Tell me please what must I do?
I know I must be rid of this, but how?
Will someone be there to pull me though?
Can I find a way to be happy now?
My situation will not defeat me!
With God's help I will turn this around!
I will prove to him how much he love's and needs me,
Then I can finally be happy now!
poem by Nikia Chesney
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Praying For The Return Of Pleasure
when love is gone
to another island
crossing the sea
i pray for pleasure
i light a candle
and offer the flowers
for the grand icon
the winds are strong
there is storm coming
and love may not return
the icon smiles
for the truth is
when love is gone
it is gone
and there is no promise
that it will return
in the eye of the storm
love sinks and cannot come back
anymore
there are no reasons
for separations
when love is broken and
beyond repair.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Edges of the Earth
Edges of the earth
In their rough seam
Years of time´s birth
And minutes between
Love songs of flowers
Leaves in their lay
Opening thru hours
Along with lives play
Something of love
Feelings in their birth
Keeping skies above
In their variations worth
You and I living
In our days epoch
Passion truly giving
Like a melting snow
Rustic leaves autumn
Of memories past
Forward they all come
In footsteps ours vast
Like a candle glowing
Its iridescent burn
So are times going
Never again to return
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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For an Otter
Three Years: I am to always be here with you.
Even the days I was not (you were not)
Sufficed by the many hes or shes, lips for kissing
Or maybe, just once, settled for sweetness
Tossed around in my bed, (your bed)
Lead me (perhaps you too) to doors of salvation
But never apart for long to ask of me who I was, and once
Come after I'd gone missing in January, from last January
And was not around to hear you but
You'd remembered to always speak in French to me
So I could always return to remember to say to you
That you were still smiling and even after so long
Strangers melting together in summer's sun goodbye
I wanted for you to stop kissing me
Only to sleep in your hand with mine
To be too wordy, too distant
To argue, To agree on
The brilliance in:
sedation, grinding teeth, tired eyes, jittery knees,
Your songs and such that are not about me, and
Poems I write and read to you of January from last January
so far away is the plane you caught this morning
Too many states away are my hands from your hands
- What if we had not been lovers fighting against love?
I don't want to know
I am to think I would have lost when I did not have to
I am to always be here with you
poem by Belinda Nelson
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It's haze, hard haze...
It's haze, hard haze,
As a veil as a shroud...
And there, in two steps,
It is war behind the haze.
And the battles go on,
But we can't take part in them,
We're absolutly chained by haze to earth now -
We are the air workers of the war.
It's haze, hard haze
On past events, on life.
And so far, in distant land
There is our house fine.
And in front dugout hut
We are dreaming of the child,
That we were in past, but now we to adults grown -
We are the air workers of the war.
It's haze, grey haze...
It will come and again.
And so far in distant land
There is love behind the haze.
And the brides will wait for long,
When we could from war return,
And, alas, not all will then return to home...
We are the air workers of the war...
song, music by A. Kolker, lyrics by K. Ryzhov, translated by Lyudmila Purgina
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I Don't Know Where The Past Is Gone
I don’t know where the past is gone
I only know most of my own life is over-
I don’t know where the past has gone
I only know so many people I loved
Are no longer here and will never be here again-
I don’t know where the past has gone
I only know that that chance I had that hope for so many years
Can never be mine in the same way again-
I don’t know where the past has gone
So many moments of beauty and love and opportunity missed and longing unrealized-
I don’t know where the past has gone
And what of it I should miss
And why I should long for it so.
I don’t know where the past has gone
And where my life was lost and why I did not do better in it-
I don’t know where the past has gone
And what will be when for me
Everything is only the Past gone
poem by Shalom Freedman
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She Touches A Sad String Of Soft Recall
Return, return! all night my lamp is burning,
All night, like it, my wide eyes watch and burn;
Like it, I fade and pale, when day returning
Bears witness that the absent can return,
Return, return.
Like it, I lessen with a lengthening sadness,
Like it, I burn to waste and waste to burn,
Like it, I spend the golden oil of gladness
To feed the sorrowy signal for return,
Return, return.
Like it, like it, whene'er the east wind sings,
I bend and shake; like it, I quake and yearn,
When Hope's late butterflies, with whispering wings,
Fly in out of the dark, to fall and burn-
Burn in the watchfire of return,
Return, return.
Like it, the very flame whereby I pine
Consumes me to its nature. While I mourn
My soul becomes a better soul than mine,
And from its brightening beacon I discern
My starry love go forth from me, and shine
Across the seas a path for thy return,
Return, return.
Return, return! all night I see it burn,
All night it prays like me, and lifts a twin
Of palmèd praying hands that meet and yearn-
Yearn to the impleaded skies for thy return.
Day, like a golden fetter, locks them in,
And wans the light that withers, tho' it burn
As warmly still for thy return;
Still thro' the splendid load uplifts the thin
Pale, paler, palest patience that can learn
Nought but that votive sign for thy return-
That single suppliant sign for thy return,
Return, return.
Return, return! lest haply, love, or e'er
Thou touch the lamp the light have ceased to burn,
And thou, who thro' the window didst discern
The wonted flame, shalt reach the topmost stair
To find no wide eyes watching there,
No withered welcome waiting thy return!
A passing ghost, a smoke-wreath in the air,
The flameless ashes, and the soulless urn,
Warm with the famished fire that lived to burn-
Burn out its lingering life for thy return,
Its last of lingering life for thy return,
Its last of lingering life to light thy late return,
Return, return.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Return!
RETURN, return! all night my lamp is burning,
All night, like it, my wide eyes watch and burn;
Like it, I fade and pale, when day returning
Bears witness that the absent can return,
Return, return.
Like it, I lessen with a lengthening sadness,
Like it, I burn to waste and waste to burn,
Like it, I spend the golden oil of gladness
To feed the sorrowy signal for return,
Return, return.
Like it, like it, whene'er the east wind sings,
I bend and shake; like it, I quake and yearn,
When Hope's late butterflies, with whispering wings,
Fly in out of the dark, to fall and burn--
Burn in the watchfire of return,
Return, return.
Like it, the very flame whereby I pine
Consumes me to its nature. While I mourn
My soul becomes a better soul than mine,
And from its brightening beacon I discern
My starry love go forth from me, and shine
Across the seas a path for thy return,
Return, return.
Return, return! all night I see it burn,
All night it prays like me, and lifts a twin
Of palmed praying hands that meet and yearn--
Yearn to the impleaded skies for thy return.
Day, like a golden fetter, locks them in,
And wans the light that withers, tho' it burn
As warmly still for thy return;
Still thro' the splendid load uplifts the thin
Pale, paler, palest patience that can learn
Naught but that votive sign for thy return--
That single suppliant sign for thy return,
Return, return.
Return, return! lest haply, love, or e'er
Thou touch the lamp the light have ceased to burn,
And thou, who thro' the window didst discern
The wonted flame, shalt reach the topmost stair
To find no wide eyes watching there,
No wither'd welcome waiting thy return!
A passing ghost, a smoke-wreath in the air,
The flameless ashes, and the soulless urn,
Warm with the famish'd fire that lived to burn--
Burn out its lingering life for thy return,
Its last of lingering life for thy return,
Its last of lingering life to light thy late return,
Return, return.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Toward The Moon and the Night (from, Spring Come Come)
Toward the moon and the night
The dreams will never come true
Shadows are up in their flight
For days to come and be of new
And the going pleasures are going
Filling up their empty woes
Without times spectacular glowing
This everywhere through here flows
Yesterdays are in their dreaming
Full in their every lost space
We were just with them all streaming
Filling out own wandering ways
But everything is always ending
Giving us seldom a new return
Wills of our thoughts bending
And from them we all must learn
Toward the days of past light
When there were roads to find out
What was to become of wrong or right
When everything was here about
And our days are all leaving
Without a return from gone past
With their moments just briefing
Some will though through time last
* This is also a 2nd part to 'Sad In Blue (a lyric) '
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Single Candle Light
The warm glow of a single candle flame
beckons a weary stranger there
to the bosom of a warm fire in
from the nighttime's cold.
A warm caring heart keeps the candle lit
to welcome back their love
from their long and lonely trek.
Each night they light the candle,
and sit waiting all alone,
hoping one night their love,
will glance on it
and return to their loving home.
The warm stretching finger
prods the darkness every night,
as it can be seen from miles away
across the empty prairie,
as they sit alone each night
by the warm fair light.
Hoping that their love will see its warm glow
and return to it and come home tonight
from their long and weary trek.
For years, the candle was lit,
but sadly, it shines no more.
Love broke the lonely heart
when they never came home.
Now all you can hear is a lonesome whistle
when the wind blows cold at night.
It has replaced that warm glow
of that single candle light.
poem by David Harris
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The Passion Fruit
[The Passion Fruit]
An epic Stanza a Dream if Might the cruel fates play tricks on the love longing mind. For Hope was the plant and Passion the fruit of the hearts implore. And love, Love is the Rain of all growth and for everyday a little rain must Fall.
The Dream of Dreams is to be loved in return by the one you dream of most. And so, her love grew for him as she saw the figure of his shadow in the corridor, and heard the deep soothing sound of his voice. And alas, She sought the longing in her eyes would at one point be returned by his. She knew at this point would be a point of no return.
Love can drive you to do incredible things; it seeks the soul, mind, and the spirit. And just as beauty, love is in the eyes of it’s beholder, for each person love comes differently, by the way they receive it, the way they give it, the way they earn it, and the way they see it. Each is its own plant.
For her it was the Passion Fruit.
She showered this fruit with love, and heartened it with hope. At last the fruit was brimming with Passion.
It was the Passion Fruit.
It was filled with Passion, but it was lacking light.
The light of restoration in which she would finally see the longing in his eyes as they were in hers.
And although she filled it with everything else there was no light, and No plant can survive without light.
Without light there is no hope and without hope there is no plant.
The passion in her eyes became a dull place in a bright world. For in her world there was no light in which to see, and no hope for it to be seen.
And so she faded away.
The day she would leave all passion behind, all hope, and all cares, she told him the story of the Passion Fruit. How it loved, laughed, and lived.
The words she said to him before her final farewell were, “When all seems Dark look for Light for there is always Light you just have to find it. Remember Hope was the plant and Passion the heart’s wish, it’s fruit. And love, Love is the Rain of all growth and for everyday a little rain must Fall.”
“But don’t forget light, for without light you cannot see the rain of love, and without the rain, a plant will cease to exist. I have Finally found my light, but alas I have already gone through a dark tunnel.” These words she uttered before she took her last breath.
He never forgot, for secretly she was his passion, his light, and his rain.
He eventually found another, but he would never love her, for there is only one love, for love is jealous of all others. So, he loved but once and the rest was just of like.
On his last breath he said, “I have found my Light, but at the end of a dark tunnel, for there she is waiting for me, my dream of dreams.”
“My Passion Fruit”
(c) 2006
poem by Kelsey Neystel
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A Single Candle/Death Herself
A single flame lights her face
The face of death
A single candle holds her fears
The fears of death
Her hands clasped anrond their souls
The souls of the dead
She feeds of their screams
The screams of the dead
Her legs lay bellow her
Bellow death
Her black gown over her body
The body of death
Her chest rises and falls with her breath
The breath of death
Her cloak drawn over her long flowing jet hair
The face of death
Her eyes unmoved unfeeling
Do you see it?
Do you see the soul of death?
Do you feel it?
Her skin as white as snow as it fades into darkness
The snow of tears
Her cloths as dark as night that swallows the light
The dark we all shall see
Her eyes close as she feels their souls flow
Flow from the dead
She leaves them there to lay in darkness
She steals from the dead
A single candle lights their faces filled with her
Filled with death
They fall into the darkness of her eyes, of her heart
The darkness of death
A single candle shall stay to light their way
Their way through the dark
A single candle holds their past
The pain and trials
A single candle lights her face
The face of death
A single candle holds her fears
The fears of death herself
A single candle
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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You and I Entwined
Sun will shed it's light on the day,
Casting shadows on its way.
But it must set as told by the hour,
Enter the moons romance shower.
The flowering Gum for a moment displays,
Then fades and dies like summer days.
Like the sweetness of loves first kiss
Sadly fading one of life's cruel twists.
The shimmering lake can evaporate and die,
Cooling water carried to the sky.
As the love filled heart can shrivel and pass away,
The sweetest, most enduring love has but feet of clay.
But this in closing I have to say,
My love will never fade at end of day.
Should my lungs take their last breath,
You and I entwined for eternity, well past my death
A Junction Of Fate
My ending begins here,
I never believed I could be this free,
Fled the immediate sorrows of a young graduate,
Still can't find a better explanation,
of what my passed fate could have been.
Talking from an in depth,
Now with a clearer sight of hope,
I'm just wanting to believe, that I'm the luckiest human
What is actually the price behind all this,
I tell you, never forget the beholder of your joy.
My real appreciation, lies on many hands,
This is why I've being stripped of sadness,
Believe it or not, it has all been replaced with a bunch of joy,
Their thoughtfulness, has led me to a place of no return,
A better place of no return to be precise.
Speechless, is still a word that won't express it all,
when I look back at my past, I feel fulfilled,
That my past of past, has been left crawling in the past,
And now I'm proud to say something that I know everybody has not said,
you are a part of my good fate and unlimited joy,
That's why I'm proud to say this all, and finally say a big thank you....
Happy 2011
HAPPY 2011
H-ave
A
P-eaceful
P-rosperous
Y-ear
I trust that 2011 is going to be a year to remember
That from January to December
You are going to be blessed
That all will turn out for the best
You will win every test
Fix all that is messed
Restore broken relations
Have more patience
When times become tough
They will be overcome by love
You will give no place to fear
And 2011 will be an awesome year
Gods very best to you and your family for 2011
Love
Henry & Madalene 31 January 2011
Hebry Brown 31 January 2011
poem by Henry Brown
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Summer's Love Soon Forgotten
Her eyes match the color,
Of a bright summer sky,
when our love was born,
In the grass,
And in the park,
That day
Memory filled weeks,
Turned into despair,
the love built so tall,
Began to fall so fast,
trying to stretch,
Through all the miles between us,
I came back
Time and time again
Waiting for that dream of love
Remembered at summers eve
That one day summers long past
Will come again
And the love almost forgotten
Will return full and strong
So that love no longer tears,
like a thorn through my heart,
but gives me hope for reason of such despair,
because he who does not hope
does not hope to love
poem by Trent Delomel
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