Farewell to Love
WHILST yet to prove
I thought there was some deity in love,
So did I reverence, and gave
Worship; as atheists at their dying hour
Call, what they cannot name, an unknown power,
As ignorantly did I crave.
Thus when
Things not yet known are coveted by men,
Our desires give them fashion, and so
As they wax lesser, fall, as they size, grow.
But, from late fair,
His highness sitting in a golden chair,
Is not less cared for after three days
By children, than the thing which lovers so
Blindly admire, and with such worship woo;
Being had, enjoying it decays;
And thence,
What before pleased them all, takes but one sense,
And that so lamely, as it leaves behind
A kind of sorrowing dulness to the mind.
Ah cannot we,
As well as cocks and lions, jocund be
After such pleasures, unless wise
Nature decreed—since each such act, they say,
Diminisheth the length of life a day—
This; as she would man should despise
The sport,
Because that other curse of being short,
And only for a minute made to be
Eager, desires to raise posterity.
Since so, my mind
Shall not desire what no man else can find;
I'll no more dote and run
To pursue things which had endamaged me;
And when I come where moving beauties be,
As men do when the summer's sun
Grows great,
Though I admire their greatness, shun their heat.
Each place can afford shadows; if all fail,
'Tis but applying worm-seed to the tail.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
Simply admire
Admire women; admire objects.
Admire them quite liberally.
When it comes to desires, be wise.
Desire might cause suffering.
13.06.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To A. L. Persuasions to Love.
THINK not, 'cause men flattering say
You're fresh as April, sweet as May,
Bright as is the morning star,
That you are so ; or, though you are,
Be not therefore proud, and deem
All men unworthy your esteem :
For, being so, you lose the pleasure
Of being fair, since that rich treasure
Of rare beauty and sweet feature
Was bestow'd on you by nature
To be enjoy'd ; and 'twere a sin
There to be scarce, where she hath bin
So prodigal of her best graces.
Thus common beauties and mean faces
Shall have more pastime, and enjoy
The sport you lose by being coy.
Did the thing for which I sue
Only concern myself, not you ;
Were men so framed as they alone
Reap'd all the pleasure, women none ;
Then had you reason to be scant :
But 'twere a madness not to grant
That which affords (if you consent)
To you the giver, more content
Than me, the beggar. Oh, then be
Kind to yourself, if not to me.
Starve not yourself, because you may
Thereby make me pine away ;
Nor let brittle beauty make
You your wiser thoughts forsake ;
For that lovely face will fail.
Beauty's sweet, but beauty's frail,
'Tis sooner past, 'tis sooner done,
Than summer's rain, or winter's sun ;
Most fleeting, when it is most dear,
'Tis gone, while we but say 'tis here.
These curious locks, so aptly twined,
Whose every hair a soul doth bind,
Will change their auburn hue and grow
White and cold as winter's snow.
That eye, which now is Cupid's nest,
Will prove his grave, and all the rest
Will follow ; in the cheek, chin, nose,
Nor lily shall be found, nor rose.
And what will then become of all
Those whom now you servants call ?
Like swallows, when your summer's done,
They'll fly, and seek some warmer sun.
Then wisely choose one to your friend
Whose love may, when your beauties end,
Remain still firm : be provident,
And think, before the summer's spent,
Of following winter ; like the ant,
In plenty hoard for time of scant.
Cull out, amongst the multitude
Of lovers, that seek to intrude
Into your favour, one that may
Love for an age, not for a day ;
One that will quench your youthful fires,
And feed in age your hot desires.
For when the storms of time have moved
Waves on that cheek which was beloved,
When a fair lady's face is pined,
And yellow spread where once red shined ;
When beauty, youth, and all sweets leave her,
Love may return, but lover never :
And old folks say there are no pains
Like itch of love in aged veins.
O love me, then, and now begin it,
Let us not lose this present minute ;
For time and age will work that wrack
Which time or age shall ne'er call back.
The snake each year fresh skin resumes,
And eagles change their aged plumes ;
The faded rose each spring receives
A fresh red tincture on her leaves :
But if your beauties once decay,
You never know a second May.
O then, be wise, and whilst your season
Affords you days for sport, do reason ;
Spend not in vain your life's short hour,
But crop in time your beauty's flower,
Which will away, and doth together
Both bud and fade, both blow and wither.
poem by Thomas Carew
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Sonnet XXXIV: Marvel Not, Love
To Admiration
Marvel not, Love, though I thy power admire,
Ravish'd a world beyond the farthest thought,
And knowing more than ever hath been taught,
That I am only starv'd in my desire.
Marvel not, Love, though I thy power admire,
Aiming at things exceeding all perfection,
To Wisdom's self to minister correction,
That I am only starv'd in my desire.
Marvel not, Love, though I thy power admire,
Though my conceit I further seem to bend
Than possibly invention can extend,
And yet am only starv'd in my desire.
If thou wilt wonder, here's the wonder, Love:
That this to me doth yet no wonder prove.
poem by Michael Drayton
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Did You Really Make Me, Me
Dear God,
You said you could take my doubts
I'm sorry I'm not filled with love an adoration right now
But this is what I think, I know you'd want me to be honest
So this is what I'm really wondering, so answer me
Dear God,
Did you really make me, me?
God you gave me eyes to see
God you gave me every hair on head
God you gave me life and now I'm not dead
You said you gave me all the gifts I had
For the longest time
I scorned these gifts saying I had none, not even this rhyme
But you're my loving Father, God you're my dad
But did you really make me me?
Dear God,
You gave me all of my gifts, so You gave me the gift to run
You gave me everything, so You gave me the motivation to run
Didn't you God?
Doesn't this mean that you gave me this desire?
I love to hike, I love each and every esplanade
Did you MAKE me to love them prior
Or did I learn to?
Did you make me with my desires, all of them, was that really You?
If it was then aren't you pleased when I run
Aren't you pleased when I do those things You made me for
Even if it makes my legs sore, my mind sore, whatever sore.
Aren't you pleased with me, pleased with your son?
Dear God,
Did You MAKE me with ALL my desires, everything I like to do
Do You bless my efforts with them too
I just don't understand why I like anything unless you made me that way
I just don't understand because what I really want to say
Right now is that I'm doubting
I'm thinking
That I gave myself these desires, but Father
Sorry to be a bother
But I cannot handle that conclusion
Tell me it's all an illusion
Tell me my desires ARE from YOU
Because if they're not, I don't know what I'd do
I'd question everything that I do
I might even start to question You too
I wouldn't know my purpose or if I should run
If I should spend hours in the sun
If I should play video games or eat ramen
If I should ride my bike
If I should go out and hike
This is way too much of a strain
I cannot bear this burden of worrying about what to do
So please tell me it's from You
Please tell me you made me to run God
God you said You can handle my doubts.... but I cant feel you right now
God I know you're there so I bow
But I'm doubting, tell me you made me Father.... Father....
Dear God,
Please promise me that you made me, me
poem by David Knox
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Sins not seen
No sins are seen unless committed
Air is up in air only when emitted
Love the way as nature desires
Fall in line and fully admire
No sense when it is realized late
Can not be contributed merely to fate
It is the way of feeling
Else everything is done if one is willing
If you fall prey to colors
It will be unique with honor
As life is adventurous
Never stagnating but remain continuous
Some of the acts are holy
That ahs to be owned in faith wholly
No one has escaped and they need not be
It is totally one’s own domain and very free
One can take decision firmly
It has to be consented and not followed blindly
It may have all types of ups and down
The act may be committed when fully known
It has to be graced as it is customary
Some of the aspects are really necessary
It keeps natural wheel moving in direction
Let some of the actions be disproved with reactions
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A Pastoral Of Phyllis And Corydon
On a hill there grows a flower,
Fair befall the dainty sweet!
By that flower there is a bower,
Where the heavenly Muses meet.
In that bower there is a chair,
Fringèd all about with gold,
Where doth sit the fairest fair
That did ever eye behold.
It is Phyllis, fair and bright,
She that is the shepherds' joy,
She that Venus did despite,
And did blind her little boy.
This is she, the wise, the rich,
That the world desires to see:
This is _ipsa quæ_, the which
There is none but only she.
Who would not this face admire?
Who would not this saint adore?
Who would not this sight desire,
Though he thought to see no more?
O, fair eyes, yet let me see,
One good look, and I am gone:
Look on me, for I am he,
Thy poor silly Corydon.
Thou that art the shepherds' queen,
Look upon thy silly swain;
By thy comfort have been seen
Dead men brought to life again.
poem by Nicholas Breton
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Admire, I Do...You
Admire,
I do...
You.
Admitting it is not as easy.
This feeling I have is new.
Over the years it grew.
And one day out of the 'blue',
I just knew.
Admire,
I do...
You.
The way you walk,
With your head held up.
Your eyes so wise and bright.
Your words direct,
I now respect.
With my mind more open.
And more prepared to accept.
Admire,
I do...
You.
Those times we shared.
With you there caring.
And I then unaware...
Just how much you cared.
And today I reflect,
Upon my attitude.
And those awful moods you met,
You did not let upset you.
When you could...
And perhaps should have left,
Me.
Admire,
I do...
You.
And after all those things I put you through,
You stayed.
With me,
You stayed!
With me,
You stayed!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Pastoral
On a hill there grows a flower,
Fair befall the dainty sweet!
By that flower there is a bower
Where the heavenly Muses meet.
In the bower there is a chair,
Fringed all about with gold,
Where doth sit the fairest fair
That did ever eye behold.
It is Phyllis fair and bright,
She that is the shepherds' joy;
She that Venus did despite,
And did blind her little boy.
This is she, the wise, the rich,
That the world desires to see;
This is ipsa quae the which
There is none but only she.
Who would not this face admire?
Who would not this saint adore?
Who would not this sight desire,
Though he thought to see no more?
O fair eyes! yet let me see
One good look, and I am gone;
Look on me, for I am he,
Thy poor silly Corydon.
Thou that art the shepherds' queen,
Look upon thy silly swain;
By thy comfort have been seen
Dead men brought to life again.
Make him live that, dying long,
Never durst for comfort seek:
Thou shalt hear so sweet a song
Never shepherd sung the like.
poem by Nicholas Breton
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Fear Not, Dear Friend, But Freely Live Your Days
FEAR not, dear friend, but freely live your days
Though lesser lives should suffer. Such am I,
A lesser life, that what is his of sky
Gladly would give for you, and what of praise.
Step, without trouble, down the sunlit ways.
We that have touched your raiment, are made whole
From all the selfish cankers of man's soul,
And we would see you happy, dear, or die.
Therefore be brave, and therefore, dear, be free;
Try all things resolutely, till the best,
Out of all lesser betters, you shall find;
And we, who have learned greatness from you, we,
Your lovers, with a still, contented mind,
See you well anchored in some port of rest.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Give Love To The Children
Give Love to the children Children need love everyday
Give love to the children Guide them on their way
Love's like a burning flame consumes all that stands in the way
Love is the only power on earth to take all the hatred away
GIVE LOVE TO THE CHILDREN set the children free
To make their own decisions then they will clearly see
Love is the sun the moon and the stars love is a golden ring
Love is the one thing the whole world desires be it beggar or king
GIVE LOVE TO THE CHILDREN youth has not long to stay
Love is a long term investment the best you will find any day
Love like the rising sun takes all the darkness away
Our children will tell their children and their childrens children will say
Give love to the children they are our crock of gold
and if perchance they ever stray they will come back to the fold
Give love to the children the children of today
Give love to the children and love will come to stay.
poem by Elizabeth Quinn
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Sonnet: The Best Takes Time
All things take time to reach maturity;
A fruit must grow in size ‘fore it ripens;
A work should keep some kind of purity;
It takes some years before a Bard well pens.
Records are broken not in simple ways;
A second off the track-record is great;
All achievements take place by sweat and days;
If things go wrong, then people call it fate.
A world’s wonder takes years and men to build;
An invention needs effort without end;
Discoveries by pluck is but God-willed;
The ways to mighty peaks but narrow wend.
Great things in life are achieved by hard work;
The little set-backs should not one’s mind irk.
poem by John Celes
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Give Love To Children
Give Love to the children Children
need love everyday
Give love to the children Guide
them on their way
Love's like a burning flame
consumes all that stands in the way
Love is the only power on earth
to take all the hatred away
Give Love to set the children free
To make their own decisions
then they will clearly see
Love is the sun the moon and the
stars love is a golden ring
Love is the one thing the whole
world desires be it beggar or king
Give Love to youth
has not long to stay
Love is a long term investment
the best you will find any day
Love like the rising sun takes all
the darkness away
Our children will tell their
children and their childrens
children will say
Give love to the children they are
our crock of gold
and if perchance they ever stray
they will come back to the fold
Give love to the children the
children of today
Give love to the children and love
will come to stay.
poem by Akingbehin Daniel Murphy
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My First Kiss
In the bed of crimson joy
Lies a baby boy
Whose parent begot him?
Through the mighty locks of the tongue
Yet as he grows
And everyday as he moves he frowns
Because he does not believe
In the mighty devil called kiss
Yet still he frowns
At every girl he meets a dawn
Are the girls mad? He says
Or do they find means to kill
But as his heart grow older
He found out he could not hold on
So he must get the girl
That he despise so much as dirt
No girl would look at him
For it was he who insulted them
So he become frustrated
And decided to end his life
But he never gave up
Though he decided to end his life
Which he could not do
For countless time he tried
He tried hard to search for love
So he can be called a man
So he searched and searched
In the heat of the sun he searched
To search for what
His heart so much desire
In the sunny days
That brings too much sweat
As lucky as he was
Love finds him as he walks
To the path of wonderland
Through the moony light
It made his heart
So glad
That he become
Very sad
Love touched him so soft
That it made his body grow weak
But he touched love back
Lo and behold he got so strong
Love planted a kiss
On his mouth so dry
That it made him quiver
For the devil called kiss he so much despise
For he said to himself
I thought love lived in the sun
But ooh he lives in the moony light
Were he shines and brightens the night
I thought to find love
In the heat of the day
But sweet love is indeed
The great comforter of night
For this man was me
In my early days when I was young
That I despise do much
The devil called kiss
poem by Samuel Donkor
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Mind Power
Dont use your fist, use your brain
Dont use your fist, use your brain
Dont use your fist, use your brain
Dont use your fist, use your brain
Mind power, every hour, any minute, every day
Mind power, every hour, any minute, every day
So when you walk through the door
Is this the bottom word
The fortress of violence will fall
When the tide will turn
Dont use your fist, use your brain
Dont use your fist, use your brain
Dont use your fist, use your brain
Dont use your fist, use your brain
Mind power, every hour, any minute, every day
Mind power, every hour, any minute, every day
Is there a place you belong
When there is no love
The light that shines is so strong
When you come out of the dark
Yeah
Were living in a violent world
It makes our heart just freeze
Lets melt the ice with heart and soul
To heal a world that bleeds
(to heal a world that bleeds)
Dont use your fist, use your brain
Dont use your fist, use your brain
Dont use your fist, use your brain
Dont use your fist, use your brain
Mind power, every hour, any minute, every day
Mind power, every hour, any minute, every day
Mind power, every hour, any minute, every day
Mind power, every hour, any minute, every day
So when you walk through the door
Is this the bottom word
The fortress of violence will fall
When the tide will turn
So when you walk through the door
You can make it too
The fortress of violence will fall
If you want it to
Dont use your fist, use your brain
Dont use your fist, use your brain
Dont use your fist, use your brain
Dont use your fist, use your brain
Mind power, every hour, any minute, every day
Mind power, every hour, any minute, every day
Mind power, every hour, any minute, every day
Mind power, every hour, any minute, every day
Mind power, every hour, any minute, every day
Mind power, every hour, any minute, every day
Mind power
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Most Powerful Living Force
i admire islam
that distils the most
powerful living force
into one distinct entity
and i admire the
followers who pray
five times every day
to him to secure
blessings straight
from his hands
i admire too the
Christians who could
every week take part
in the feast of the body
and blood of a part of
the living God - Christ
and be eternally saved
i admire the Hindus
who have a million celestial
beings to help them work
their karma this life and
next and the next until
they are pure enough,
spotlessly clean to merge
with the Living God
I admire the Buddhists who
could live and pray throughout
their life for none other than
a state of nothingness
free from desires of all kinds
the admire the Jews too
who though thrown into fire
(holocaust) , made stateless
and subservient, with
steadfastness cling
to Yahweh believing
he meant only the
best for them
i admire all the world's
great religions which
through thick and thin
try to guide men to
Almighty, to love and love
like him despite all the
human shortcomings
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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It's The Things You Do
Chorus:
It's the things you do
That have made me fall
So in love with you
You can have it all
What else can I do
Nothin' left to prove
It's the things you do
(It's the things you do)
You touched my love line
So deep inside I
Never thought I'd feel so good
Oh no
No need to hide now
Open up your mind now
Let me make it understood
Because
Bridge:
Cos nobody ever said to me
All of the things we shared within
Now that I know that you can see
Let me fill you up
Chorus
(It's the things you do)
You and me baby like the ABC
K-I-S-S-I-N-G
Could it be unity
I need like J Hoffa
Romance your body
Work it out - mm proper
One of the finest
Things on my mind is
How you make me feel like gold queen Midas
Straight A plus the material I bust
But the things that you do
Keep me up and it's a must
Bridge
It's the things you do
That have made me fall
So in love with you
You can have it all
What else can I do (what else can I do)
Nothin' left to prove (baby nothing left to prove)
It's the things you do
That have made me fall
So in love with you
You can have it all
What else can I do
Nothin' left to prove
(It's the things you do)
Give me a chance and let me in
There's no need to hide what's there within
Now that I know that you can see
Let me fill you up
You got that Midas touch
I love you more than enough
For all the things that you do
It's the things you do
So in love with you
You can have it all
What else can I do
Nothin' left to prove
It's the things you do
song performed by by Five
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What's So Funny About It?
I am appalled to see the humor
In what some view… as funny these days.
Crashing old Grannies…and what swear word best fits our personalities
“God help us! ”…is what I say.
Seems like we’re reverting backward
To those days… when Roman’s viewed Christian deaths a sport.
With all of those hyper reality shows
It is now most of our minds retreat.
It’s become mankind’s… addiction of choice
Finding pleasure… in the bizarre and the unknown.
But what are we really saying and doing?
When it is our children…our actions are shown.
We claim to be so civilized?
But this is not what our God has made for me and you.
He wants us to follow Him faithfully
But we seem to have… better and more exciting things to do.
Think about what you are doing
Before you find the humor you so desire.
It will only end up… in maybe your painful disaster
And be you… that are someone else’s kind of funny to admire.
By: Linda Winchell
Copyright: 2009
poem by Linda Winchell
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Someone Keeps Moving My Chair
Mr. horrible
Mr. horrible
Telephone call for mr. horrible
But before he can talk to the ugliness men
Theres some horrible business left
For him to attend to
Something unpleasant has spilled on his brain
As he sponges it off they say
Is this horrible?
Is this horrible?
Its the ugliness men, mr. horrible
Were just trying to bug you
We thought that our dreadfulness
Might be a thing to annoy you with
But mr. horrible says, I dont mind
The thing that bothers me is
Someone keeps moving my chair
Would you mind if we balance this glass of milk
Where your visiting friend accidentally was killed?
Would it be okay with you if we wrote a reminder
Of things well forget to do today otherwise,
Using a green magic marker, if its alright
On the back of your head?
Mr. horrible
Mr. horrible
Were not done with you yet mr. horrible
You have to try on these pants so the ugliness men
Can decide if theyre just as embarrassing as we think
We have to be sure about this
But mr. horrible says, I dont mind
The thing that bothers me is
Someone keeps moving my chair
Someone keeps moving my chair
Mr. horrible says, I dont mind
The thing that bothers me is
Someone keeps moving my chair
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0004 Rilke to a Young Poet 1
There is only one single way. Go into yourself.
Search for the reason that bids you write;
find out whether it is spreading out its roots
in the deepest places of your heart,
acknowledge to yourself whether you would have to die
if it were denied to you to write.
This above all - ask yourself
in the stillest hour of your night:
MUST I write?
Delve into yourself for a deep answer.
And if this is 'Yes! I must! '
then build your life according to this necessity;
your life, even within its most indifferent and slightest hour
must be a sign of this urge
and a testimony to it.
Then draw near to Nature.
Then try, like some first human being,
to say what you see and experience and love and lose.
Do not write love-poems;
avoid at first those forms that are too facile and commonplace:
they are the most difficult, for
it takes a great, fully matured power
to give something of your own
where good and even excellent traditions
come to mind in quantity.
Therefore save yourself from these general themes
and seek those which your own everyday life offers you;
describe your sorrows and desires, passing thoughts and
the belief in some sort of beauty -
describe all these with loving, quiet, humble sincerity,
and use, to express yourself,
the things in your environment,
the images from your dreams,
and the objects of your memory.
If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it;
blame yourself, tell yourself that
you are not poet enough to call forth its riches;
for to the creator there is no poverty
and no poor indifferent place.
Go into yourself and test the deeps
in which your life takes rise;
at its source you will find the answer to the question,
whether you must create.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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When The Wind Blows
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
In a part of this once-great city
Stands a child crying out in pity.
Gone is hope in the heart of each hungry hour.
Every year in this land of plenty
There are millions of starving children
What will i say if they look my way?
This is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Bow your heads to the lost generation
Scars so deep, bringing god's damnation.
Businessmen sip wine while congress argue.
But for grace we enjoy our pleasures
What we face will be our salvation
Go build your towns, but remember time will not forget
That this is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Think of what the wise men said.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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