Sonnet V
RVdely thou wrongest my deare harts desire,
In finding fault with her too portly pride:
the thing which I doo most in her admire,
is of the world vnworthy most enuide.
For in those lofty lookes is close implide,
scorn of base things, & sdeigne of soule dishonor:
thretning rash eies which gaze on her so wide,
that loosely they ne dare to looke vpon her.
Such pride is praise, such portlinesse is honor,
that boldned innocence beares in her eies:
and her faire countenance like a goodly banner,
spreds in defiaunce of all enemies.
Was neuer in this world ought worthy tride,
without some spark of such self-pleasing pride.
poem by Edmund Spenser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Beginning of destruction
pride it’s all your fault
Pride it’s all your fault we in this mess
Pride it’s all your fault we are suffering
Pride it’s all your fault people are shedding blood
Pride it’s all your fault families are destroyed
Pride it’s all your fault people are so greedy and selfish
Pride it’s all your fault people have no love
Pride it’s all your fault are so jealous of each other
Pride it’s all your fault people are so lost
Pride it’s all your fault dying from this horrible diseases
Pride it’s all your fault we have so many orphans
Pride it’s all your fault people are betraying each other
Pride it’s all your fault are dying of hunger
Pride it’s all your fault fathers are sleeping with their children
Pride it’s all your fault people are so heartless
Pride it’s all your fault there is no peace, unity and harmony in this world
Pride it’s all your fault we have all this sorrow
Pride it’s all your fault God has rejected us
Pride it’s all your fault people are so evil
And they have decided to be in love with evil rather than good
You have ruined this world
You are to blame for all this misery
If lucifer did not have pride in his heart we wouldn’t be in this mess
Pride it all your fault! ! !
Vangile Mtyali
poem by Vangile Mtyali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet: On Calumny
Be thou a saint and yet the world won't spare;
Be thou most chaste and yet, most tongues will talk;
Be thou a crook and yet people don't care;
Be thou a tiger yet, some men will stalk.
Be thou cruel and yet the world will praise;
Be thou too kind and yet the world will taunt;
Be thou rigid and yet the world can't face;
Be thou timid and yet the world will haunt;
Be thou selfish and yet the world loves thee;
Be thou selfless and yet the world thee hates;
Be thou goodly and yet you are not free;
Be thou evil and yet the world thee mates.
Be thou yourself and yet the world finds fault;
Be thou anything, yet the world will vault.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet LXVIII
MOst glorious Lord of lyfe that on this day,
Didst make thy triumph ouer death and sin:
and hauing harrowd hell didst bring away,
captiuity thence captiue vs to win.
This ioyous day, deare Lord, with ioy begin,
and grant that we for whom thou didest dye
being with thy deare blood clene washt from sin,
may liue for euer in felicity.
And that thy loue we weighing worthily,
may likewise loue thee for the same againe:
and for thy sake that all lyke deare didst buy,
with loue may one another entertayne.
So let vs loue, deare loue, lyke as we ought,
loue is the lesson which the Lord vs taught.
poem by Edmund Spenser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Easter
MOST glorious Lord of Lyfe! that, on this day,
Didst make Thy triumph over death and sin;
And, having harrowd hell, didst bring away
Captivity thence captive, us to win:
This joyous day, deare Lord, with joy begin;
And grant that we, for whom thou diddest dye,
Being with Thy deare blood clene washt from sin,
May live for ever in felicity!
And that Thy love we weighing worthily,
May likewise love Thee for the same againe;
And for Thy sake, that all lyke deare didst buy,
With love may one another entertayne!
So let us love, deare Love, lyke as we ought,
--Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.
poem by Edmund Spenser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet XXI
WAs it the worke of nature or of Art?
which tempred so the feature of her face:
that pride and meeknesse mixt by equall part,
doe both appeare t'adorne her beauties grace.
For with mild pleasance, which doth pride displace,
she to her loues doth lookers eyes allure:
& with sterne countenance back again doth chace
their looser lookes that stir vp lustes impure,
With such strange termes her eyes she doth inure,
that with one looke she doth my life dismay:
and with another doth it streight recure,
her smile me drawes, her frowne me driues away.
Thus doth she traine and teach me with her lookes,
such art of eyes I neuer read in bookes.
poem by Edmund Spenser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sir Thomas Wortley's Sonnet Answered
[THE SONNET.
I.
No more
Thou little winged archer, now no more
As heretofore,
Thou maist pretend within my breast to bide,
No more,
Since cruell Death of dearest LYNDAMORE
Hath me depriv'd,
I bid adieu to love, and all the world beside.
II.
Go, go;
Lay by thy quiver and unbend thy bow
Poore sillie foe,
Thou spend'st thy shafts but at my breast in vain,
Since Death
My heart hath with a fatall icie deart
Already slain,
Thou canst not ever hope to warme her wound,
Or wound it o're againe.]
THE ANSWER.
I.
Againe,
Thou witty cruell wanton, now againe,
Through ev'ry veine,
Hurle all your lightning, and strike ev'ry dart,
Againe,
Before I feele this pleasing, pleasing paine.
I have no heart,
Nor can I live but sweetly murder'd with
So deare, so deare a smart.
II.
Then flye,
And kindle all your torches at her eye,
To make me dye
Her martyr, and put on my roabe of flame:
So I,
Advanced on my blazing wings on high,
In death became
Inthroan'd a starre, and ornament unto
Her glorious, glorious name.
poem by Richard Lovelace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet X
VNrighteous Lord of loue what law is this,
That me thou makest thus tormented be:
the whiles she lordeth in licentious blisse
of her freewill, scorning both thee and me.
See how the Tyrannesse doth ioy to see
the huge massacres which her eyes do make:
and humbled harts brings captiues vnto thee,
that thou of them mayst mightie vengeance take.
But her proud hart doe thou a little shake
and that high look, with which she doth comptroll
all this worlds pride bow to a baser make,
and al her faults in thy black booke enroll.
That I may laugh at her in equall sort,
as she doth laugh at me & makes my pain her sport.
poem by Edmund Spenser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Thou Hast Not Raised
Thou hast not rais'd, Ianthe, such desire
In any breast as thou hast rais'd in mine.
No wandering meteor now, no marshy fire,
Leads on my steps, but lofty, but divine:
And, if thou chillest me, as chill thou dost
When I approach too near, too boldly gaze,
So chills the blushing morn, so chills the host
Of vernal stars, with light more chaste than
day's.
poem by Walter Savage Landor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sancire
The thing we love is the thing we can't possess
those who do not have love, know love best
to desire, to imagine, to obsess
our love kindles our most zealous zest
In our bosom we love and jealous rest
Unbosom thyself, thou reveal who thou really are
Anything but a heavenly star
A soul possessed by loves dark mar
Burning for a soul from afar
Love has no limits in thy mind
Its magic passion turns one blind
And in its center thyself you'll find
That what it is that makes one bind
The thing thy love, to thy own pain
By thine obsession, thy so incessantly gain
Nothing from love, but love's vain
To thy detriment thou go insane….
and love a thing thou wilt never possess….
to desire, to imagine, to obsess
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Skull
O BOWL that held the hot imprisoned fire,
Cup where the sacred essence used to burn—
That fluent essence that shall ne’er return—
Old home of Aspiration and Desire:
What art thou now to honour and admire?
A thing inconsequential one might spurn,
Thou art not e’en the scattered ashes’ urn;—
Husk of the spirit that shall not expire.
Thou cage and shell of ancient busy Thought,
Nurse-house of Soul, the domicile of him
Long fled thy osseous walls that Nature wrought
To please proud Time’s caprice and passing whim;
’Twixt two eternities a moment caught,
He rose from thee to join the seraphim.
poem by Mary E Fullerton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It's My Fault
Everything is my fault
I am guilty for everything
Even for loving you
Which of course was a bad thing
You broke my heart
Not only with one girl but three girls
It's my fault
I am not everything you want and need
It's my fault
I can't be like her
I am sorry
It's My fault
poem by Makayla Straight
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Thoughts Of Yours Have Been Occupants
There is only one thing,
You can hold in your hand...
While balling your fist.
Is the acknowledgement,
Of being accessible.
And being conscious of it.
Finding fault with accusations.
To free yourself from grief,
To experience bliss.
Know this...
There is only one thing,
You can hold in your hand...
While balling your fist.
Is the acknowledgement,
Of being accessible.
And being conscious of it.
You did not just reappear,
Out of thin air.
You made your decisions.
And in your head,
Thoughts of yours...
Have been occupants there!
If...
The finding of fault with accusations,
Will free you from feeling grief...
To experience bliss?
Know this...
There is only one thing,
You can hold in your hand...
While balling your fist.
And that would be the acknowledgement,
Of being accessible.
And being conscious of it.
Know this!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Alankar(Decor) -26
It's Thou Pride (Rondine)
(Based on a mango-contest between
the Lords Ganesh and Muruga
as per hindu mythology)
-
'It's thou pride, gyre gyre o'lord
Winning the game no easy
Going around worlds too queasy
Yet flinch not, gyre gyre o'lord
There thy peacock, get on board
Finish the rounds so easy
It's thou pride'
Much unthought but Ganesh scored
His parents His world, rounds easy
Lost Muruga got preachings uneasy
Shiva said'Ganesh, You the first Lord
It's thou pride'
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Dying Husband's Farewell
I LEAVE them, now the trumpet calls away;
In vain thine eyes beg for some times reprieving;
Yet in my children here immortall stay:
In one I die, in many ones am living:
In them, and for them stay thy too much grieving:
Look but on them, in them thou still wilt see
Marry'd with thee again thy twice-two Antonie.
And when with little hands they stroke thy face,
As in thy lap they sit (ah carelesse) playing,
And stammering ask a kisse, give them a brace;
The last from me : and then a little staying,
And in their face some part of me survaying,
In them give me a third, and with a teare
Show thy deare love to him, who lov'd thee ever deare.
poem by Phineas Fletcher
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Proud
From the i know what you did last summer soundtrack
Must you keep looking at me
Before you looked the other way.
Must you keep glaring at me
I know you look inside, and see what you made.
You took no pride in me
But now Im your everything
Its finding out ya own(owe? ) me
Not all of your gloating.
Must you keep looking at me.
Now you see what I am.
Trust, I knew what it was.
I dont forget things, thinking Im nothing.
You took no pride in me
But now Im your everything
Its finding out ya own(owe? ) me
Not all of your gloating.
Pride of me
No pride
Why (x7)
Must you keep looking at me
Before you looked the other way
Trust, I knew what it was
I dont forget things, look what youve made.
You took no pride in me
But now Im your everything
Its finding out ya own(owe? ) me
Not all of your gloating.
song performed by by Korn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
An intruder
Thou came and won my heart,
I was not ready for that
Yet I sacrificed my ego
At the altar of thy love.
I honoured thy desire
Dishonouring mine,
I illumined thy world Darkening mine,
I inhabited thy heart
Deserting mine.
But all of a sudden
What happened?
Thou shifted the fragrance of thy love
To someone else,
Thou lighted his heart
from
The pyre of my love,
Thou robbed me
Of my love, my emotions,
And
even my dreams,
Thou came into my world stealthily,
Thou were an intruder.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet 123: No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change
No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change.
Thy pyramids built up with newer might
To me are nothing novel, nothing strange;
They are but dressings of a former sight.
Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire
What thou dost foist upon us that is old,
And rather make them born to our desire
Than think that we before have heard them told.
Thy registers and thee I both defy,
Not wond'ring at the present, nor the past,
For thy records, and what we see doth lie,
Made more or less by thy continual haste:
This I do vow and this shall ever be:
I will be true despite thy scythe and thee.
poem by William Shakespeare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Nothing us but only in between us
In finding you
I find me, in looking for you
You look for me, so in finding you finding me,
We finally find out, there is nothing us but only
You and me finding you and me, there is really
No us, just some things between us, always finding
You and me finding you always finding two
Not one, nothing one, but always two, a separate
You finding me and me finding you in this search in futility
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!