Mystery
Now I am all
One bowl of kisses,
Such as the tall
Slim votaresses
Of Egypt filled
For a God's excesses.
I lift to you
My bowl of kisses,
And through the temple's
Blue recesses
Cry out to you
In wild caresses.
And to my lips'
Bright crimson rim
The passion slips,
And down my slim
White body drips
The shining hymn.
And still before
The altar I
Exult the bowl
Brimful, and cry
To you to stoop
And drink, Most High.
Oh drink me up
That I may be
Within your cup
Like a Mystery,
Like wine that is still
In ecstasy.
Glimmering still
In ecstasy,
Commingled wines
Of you and me
In One fulfill,...
The Mystery.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Related quotes
Away The Bowl
Our grateful hearts with temperance burn,
Away, away the bowl,
From dram shops all, our steps we turn,
Away, away the bowl;
Farewell to rum and all its harms,
Farewell the wine-cup's boasted charms,
Away the bowl, away the bowl, away, away the bowl.
See how that staggering drunkard reels!
Away, away the bowl;
Alas, the misery he reveals,
Away, away the bowl;
His children grieve, his wife's in tears!
How sad his once bright home appears!
Away the bowl, away the bowl, away, away the bowl.
We drink no more, nor buy nor sell,
Away, away the bowl!
The grog-shop's offers we repel,
Away, away the bowl.
United in a temperance band,
We 're joined in heart, we 're joined in hand,
Away the bowl, away the bowl, away, away the bowl.
poem by John Pierpont
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Three Men of Gotham
SEAMEN three! What men be ye?
Gotham's three wise men we be.
Whither in your bowl so free?
To rake the moon from out the sea.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine.--
And your ballast is old wine.
Who art thou, so fast adrift?
I am he they call Old Care.
Here on board we will thee lift.
No: I may not enter there.
Wherefore so? 'Tis Jove's decree,
In a bowl Care may not be.--
In a bowl Care may not be.
Fear ye not the waves that roll?
No: in charmed bowl we swim.
What the charm that floats the bowl?
Water may not pass the brim.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine.--
And your ballast is old wine.
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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Seamen Three
Seamen three! What men be ye?
Gotham's three wise men we be.
Whither in your bowl so free?
To rake the moon from out the sea.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine;
And your ballast is old wine.
Who art thou, so fast adrift?
I am he they call Old Care.
Here on board we will thee lift.
No: I may not enter there.
Wherefore so? 'Tis Jove's decree,
In a bowl Care may not be;
In a bowl Care may not be.
Fear ye not the waves that roll?
No: in charmed bowl we swim.
What the charm that floats the bowl?
Water may not pass the brim.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine;
And your ballast is old wine.
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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The Voice The Snake
(curly m.c./f.gregorian)
.
The first bowl on the earth
The second bowl on the sea
The third bowl on the rivers
The fourth bowl on the sun
The fifth bowl on the beast
The sixth bowl on the stars
The seventh bowl on the air
.
And the earth turned grey
Sea turned black
The rivers turned red
The sun turned cold
The beast turned pale
The stars turned fast
The air turned to poison
song performed by by Enigma
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Voice & The Snake
(curly m.c./f.gregorian)
.
The first bowl on the earth
The second bowl on the sea
The third bowl on the rivers
The fourth bowl on the sun
The fifth bowl on the beast
The sixth bowl on the stars
The seventh bowl on the air
.
And the earth turned grey
Sea turned black
The rivers turned red
The sun turned cold
The beast turned pale
The stars turned fast
The air turned to poison
song performed by by Enigma
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Too Much To Drink
I had too much to drink- drinking in your love
Savoring your hips, your lips, your thighs, your eyes
Although you tried to hide it in disguise.
Drinking in your juices of pure ecstasy
This is where I want to be.
This is a drink so unique, and so rare
That with no one will I share.
This drink has body, and taste, like none before
And I want it to last forever more.
it carries me like a leaf in the wind
As sweet as wine, yet as strong as gin.
There is no other drink that can compare
As to the drink that we both share.
Savor the love!
poem by Louis Rams
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When I was a young man, I had a mentor on women and he said when you meet a woman that you think you like, don't ask her for a drink. Take her out for a bowl of soup. Because a woman who can enjoy a bowl of soup is bound to be more interesting.
quote by Art Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Diddy Ba Bin
wa wa diddy ba
oer the way of kuriga
searched for love
and found a cave
and from above
a pact was made
and there he spent
the rest his days
saying wa wa diddy ba
searched for love and
found a voice
which gave him then
a bowl filled thrice
and everywhere the ba ba went
his bowl was filled
with sticky rice
the years wore on
the days wore thin
and what was left of ba ba bin
was found among the curios
and a bowl filled full
of cheerios
poem by George Murdock
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A Nonsense Poem - a Villanelle
A little mouse sings in a bowl
A little fish runs on a wheel
A little worm hops in a hole
A little hat has lost its sole
A little petal has no peel
A little mouse sings in a bowl
A little dog dances a reel
A little frog jumps on a mole
A little fish runs on a wheel
A little boat rings out a peal
A little bell loses its keel
A little mouse sings in a bowl
A little rock slips on a seal
A little perch walks on a pole
A little fish runs on a wheel
A little card shakes on a deal
A little sigh fancies a meal
A little mouse sings in a bowl
A little fish runs on a wheel
poem by Alison Cassidy
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Give me a mystery - just a plain and simple one - a mystery which is diffidence and silence, a slim little bare-foot mystery: give me a mystery - just one!
quote by Yevgeny Yevtushenko
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anacreontics, Drinking
THE thirsty earth soaks up the rain,
And drinks and gapes for drink again;
The plants suck in the earth, and are
With constant drinking fresh and fair;
The sea itself (which one would think
Should have but little need of drink)
Drinks twice ten thousand rivers up,
So fill'd that they o'erflow the cup.
The busy Sun (and one would guess
By 's drunken fiery face no less)
Drinks up the sea, and when he 's done,
The Moon and Stars drink up the Sun:
They drink and dance by their own light,
They drink and revel all the night:
Nothing in Nature 's sober found,
But an eternal health goes round.
Fill up the bowl, then, fill it high,
Fill all the glasses there--for why
Should every creature drink but I?
Why, man of morals, tell me why?
poem by Abraham Cowley
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Explorations: XXVI
I stand
At your door-step
With an empty bowl
I can't ask you
Why I'm made
To stand there
I can't ask you
Why my bowl
Is empty;
The bowl
The emptiness
And I
Are all your design
Are your creation!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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When I Become Wise And Numb
when you become
storm #1
i remain as a simple
cottage
at the foot of the hill
i draw my own
blue butterflies
fluttering
on the purple
bushes
of my garden
when you become the
darkness of
my night
i invent a hundred
fireflies
on that tall tree
in my mind
i tell you
i am wise and numb
and has become
too creative
because of you
i can be anything now
and you have become
nothing to me
when i take a glimpse of
what you are doing
you become a black fish
on the bowl
if i want to
i could have pushed that bowl
on the edge of the table
and you should have been
a minute part
of that
tragedy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A drinking song
Come, brothers, share the fellowship
We celebrate to-night;
There's grace of song on every lip
And every heart is light!
But first, before our mentor chimes
The hour of jubilee,
Let's drink a health to good old times,
And good times yet to be!
Clink, clink, clink!
Merrily let us drink!
There's store of wealth
And more of health
In every glass, we think.
Clink, clink, clink!
To fellowship we drink!
And from the bowl
No genial soul
In such an hour can shrink.
And you, oh, friends from west and east
And other foreign parts,
Come share the rapture of our feast,
The love of loyal hearts;
And in the wassail that suspends
All matters burthensome,
We 'll drink a health to good old friends
And good friends yet to come.
Clink, clink, clink!
To fellowship we drink!
And from the bowl
No genial soul
In such an hour will shrink.
Clink, clink, clink!
Merrily let us drink!
There's fellowship
In every sip
Of friendship's brew, we think.
poem by Eugene Field
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Drink From This Cup, Thirst Not In Afterlife
Will you drink freely my friend,
of the spirits, wine, or the ale?
Until you fall upon measured,
large drink stomach bloated.
Senseless in drunkard’s bowl,
like the dead beached whale.
Will you be in cups late into the night?
Thirsty traveller lingers at such a sight.
How soon, you thirst again, your ever bitter dry,
for aching head, it is hard, to gaze up into the sky.
There is a cup, of pure water, a cup of pure life,
all who drink from this cup, will thirst not, in afterlife.
Thus we chose
waters of intoxication.
In this world or
waters of life in the next.
One kills body soul
one prepares for resurrection.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Climbing
a woman precedes me up the long rope.
her dangling braids the color of rain.
maybe i should have had braids.
maybe i should have kept the body i started,
slim and possible as a boy's bone.
maybe i should have wanted less.
maybe i should have ignored the bowl in me
burning to be filled.
maybe i should have wanted less.
the woman passes the notch in the rope
marked Sixty. I rise toward it, struggling,
hand over hungry hand.
poem by Lucille Clifton
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Ballerina Valerie
Down in the garden
Under a leaf, she was smoking her keef
And she was looking at stardom
Everythings bright as she draws on the pipe
And the bowl glows redder
And things look better
Mars is a ruby
Saturn is sapphire, it burns with a blue fire
Colors run through me
Loosen my thinking, theyre flashing and blinking
And always changing, rearranging
Ballerina, valerie now
Move me through your crimson dances
Terragan, a red bandana
Bring me down your silver trances
Down in the garden
Under an oak, he was drinking his coke
And he was looking at stardom
Everythings bright as he draws on the pipe
And the bowl glows redder
And things go better with coca-cola
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Say My Name
She says
my name
so sweetly
then wraps
it in silence
I listen to my name
hiding inside the silence.
then she unwraps
the silence
& says me
again.
I listen
to myself
upon her tongue
her mouth
forming me
framing me
within her voice
as if I were
a masterpeice
newly painted
still wet
glistening with
the secret of
its mystery
oh say me
again
say me again
I in an ecstasy
of being
my name
kisses upon her
lips.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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from: Shoemaker's Holiday, Or The Gentle Craft
Cold's the wind, and wet's the rain,
Saint Hugh be our good speed ;
Ill is the weather that bringeth no gain,
Nor helps good hearts in need.
Troll the bowl, the jolly nut-brown bowl,
And here, kind mate, to thee ;
Let's sing a dirge for Saint Hugh's soul,
And down it merrily.
Down-a-down, hey, down-a-down,
Hey derry derry down-a-down,
Close with the tenor, boy ;
Ho ! well done, to me let come,
Ring compass, gentle joy.
Troll the bowl, the nut-brown bowl,
And here, kind, &c. (As often as there be men to drink.)
(At last, when all have drunk, this verse.)
Cold's the wind, and wet's the rain,
Saint Hugh be our good speed ;
Ill is the weather that bringeth no gain,
Nor helps good hearts in need.
poem by Thomas Dekker
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Cameron
Cameron the cat would never miss a trick –
Often in the garden on patrol.
Otherwise sleeping, though frequently meeting
His one and only love – that earthen bowl!
Cameron the cat took everything for granted -
Sure, the street lay under his control.
Contentedly snoozing – perhaps he 'd been boozing –
And toasting all that counts: his dearest bowl!
Cameron the cat would seek to take advantage –
His gullible owners often on parole.
Purring pathetically, and almost poetically,
He'd meow them into stacking up his bowl!
Cameron the cat was nonetheless a gem –
His owners saw him as their heart and soul,
But having to accept that he was so adept
At persuading them to fill his flipping bowl!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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