Many
Fitting and proper,
To accept the circumstances and to move on;
But the conclusion is always occupied by your muse.
Many dates,
Many lovers,
many years,
And with much prayers!
But fitting and proper to your muse;
For a person who loves silver will not be satisfied with silver!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Related quotes
Bereft of Explication Proper...
Bereft of explication proper would I be to define,
Every aspect of your essence- of your presence, divine!
Remiss would I be yet, if but an attempt valiant, were not taken-
Alas, causative are thee- for my soul has awakened!
Most fitting, appareled are thee in locks aflame:
For I am enamored- and you are virtuously, to blame!
Coupled is this, with oculus the most resplendent blue:
I am enraptured replete, obligation owed their hue!
Serenity, beautificence- but two words toward articulation,
Many more needed still though for proper delimitation!
The Heavens surely smile upon thee, and all you touch-
Intimate not all do I, yet know surely do I this much!
Know not could I a more fitting homage than to expound,
The world- far more felicitous, because you are around!
Maurice Harris,21 March 2009
poem by Maurice Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Write And Speak
Write and speak of the things which are very proper for a sound doctrine,
For outside are many hidden gods and godesses ruling the world! !
But, this muse of peace around us today came from the muse of love;
So, learn diligently from it and be very wise to move on with your positive mind always.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Keep It Proper
Keep it proper!
You never know on you who might peep.
When you do a thing discreet.
You never know on you who might peep.
It's best that you keep it proper.
You never know on you who might peep.
Especially when you're seen in the streets.
You never know on you who might peep.
Keep,
It
Proper.
You never know on you who might peep.
Distorting what you do to deceive.
You never know on you who might peep.
It's best that you keep it proper.
You never know on you who might peep.
When a seeker seeks a weakness to heat.
You never know on you who might peep.
Controversy lovers love it,
More obscene.
People feed sensations that wound and bleed.
With a caring less of who's affected by misdeeds
Keep,
It
Proper.
You never know on you who might peep.
Distorting what you do to deceive.
You never know on you who might peep.
Yes it's best that you keep it proper.
You never know on you who might peep.
When a seeker seeks a weakness to heat.
You never know on you who might peep.
It's best
That you keep it proper.
You never know on you who might peep.
Yes it is best
That you keep it proper.
You never know on you who might peep.
Yes it is best that you keep it proper,
That business to express on the streets.
You never know,
On you
Who might peep.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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After That Love Long Gone
this i will tell you or i may not tell you at all
i have to think about a choice
i still have the scar, call it a souvenir.
whatever that is,
a proper word fitting like dado joints
my pride is
i am healed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silver And Gold
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Ev'ryone wishes for silver and gold
How do you measure its worth?
Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth.
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Mean so much more when I see
Silver and gold decorations
On ev'ry Christmas tree.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Wise men brought gifts to the mange I'm told
Mary was humble to see
Shepherds and kings there on bended knees
It's silver and gold, silver and gold
Feeling the world with their lives
Silver and gold how they shimmer on ev'ry Christmas night
On ev'ry Christmas night
Silver, silver and gold
song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silver & Gold
Words and Music by Johnny Marks.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Ev'ryone wishes for silver and gold
How do you measure its worth?
Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth.
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Mean so much more when I see
Silver and gold decorations
On ev'ry Christmas tree.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Wise men brought gifts to the mange I'm told
Mary was humble to see
Shepherds and kings there on bended knees
It's silver and gold, silver and gold
Feeling the world with their lives
Silver and gold how they shimmer on ev'ry Christmas night
On ev'ry Christmas night
Silver, silver and gold
song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ali Baba
U.K. lovers!
Don't tell it to anyone because i will never grow old;
American lovers!
You con't live like this when my name is now known to you;
Asian lovers!
There i met the roots of your family way of life;
Australian lovers!
Singing and praising the muse of lust when i was around;
African lovers!
From head to toe to call on my name;
But today, i am like Ali Baba in the land of my muse! !
However, many of you are still searching for me.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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432
When You Got In
I Went Out
Such Is The Wrong Timing
Of Your
Compassion
Then We Talk
About The Proper Timing
Of Our Desires
You Set The Time, The Place, And The Mood
Now It Is Not Just Desire But
Love
Yes, Love,
But Sometimes I Still Wonder
What Love Is
When Two People Meet At The Proper Time
The Proper Place, And The Proper Mood
When Everything Seems Right
And Yet
Feels So Wrong
When Everything Is Supposedly Proper
And Yet
There Is Still This
Feeling Of Impropriety
I Am 48 Years Old And You Are 49
And I Am Just Asking
When We All Want To Be Inside The Room Of
Ecstacy
And Yet
They All Want Us
Out
Just Because They Also Feel
That The Timing May Be Right
But It Simply Does Not
Look All Right
And Then You Are A Little
Bit Irritated And You Ask
Finally
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Test My Appetite
Some prefer and choose perfection,
To convey ideals...
Promoted to instill.
With a showing of a knowledge...
In a hope that this appeals.
And then there are those,
Who have chosen to be real.
Grounded and solid of sound minds.
To find they are critiqued...
By those of the pretentious kind.
'It is not proper etiquette,
To dip biscuits in stew.'
~Hey...
I am here to eat.
Not to see what others do.
And IF you're looking for a silver spoon.
To eat your stew?
You go and do that.
And my biscuits will be in your stew too!
In these times,
I will nourish first...
Before rehearsing any refinement,
I've learned from the past.
But today does not work.~
'It is not proper etiquette,
To dip biscuits in stew.'
~Hey...
I am here to eat.
Not to see what others do.
And IF you're looking for a silver spoon.
To eat your stew?
You go and do that.
And my biscuits will be in your stew too!
Go ahead!
Test my appetite!
I dare you.
Leave that stew.
And I'll show you what can be done with it.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Muse Is Free
I swim in the glimmers on the rivers muse
There I muse of love and love muse of me
In muse is ecstasy
my muse is free.
I lay by the brook, the muse's brook
And thirsty, I get up, to get a little drink
When I look, I see, I think
A beautiful Muse and my heart is shook
I dwell in a soul, a soulful muse
And to its harmony my soul withdrew
To the trumpets of muse the song of blue
My soul a muse, I always knew
I smell the odor, of muse's incense
In its torpor my body sleeps in my soul
And I smoke the smoke of muse intense
I laugh at myself amusingly droll
With my muse's nymphs we love in Hellas
Naked and free in the republic
Of beauty and art of love's Bellas
We love to we're entirely love sick.
My muse is free from the Devil's temptation
My Muse is free from God's judgment
My Muse is my only wordly nation
My Muse is a dream, I live, I lament
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bayla
The events have not well settled down,
But i have seen the nakedness of your muse;
And be very wise to criticize me on this muse,
Because it is all about your love.
You may understand my muse or not,
But poetry is all about you and i! !
And what you write down in the name of your country will not satisfy me;
But i have to accept your lines in the name of poetry.
I am not the one that you are looking for,
So do not be very angry with my poems;
For they are all there to teach others than you! !
Bayla my lover is still at home,
And like a star in the land of lovers;
But this poem was not writtien for you.
I am very glad to understand your status,
But why are not ready for criticism? !
Because we are all learning on this earth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wrong Timing
when you got in
i went out
such is the wrong timing
of your
compassion
then we talk
about the proper timing
of our desires
you set the time, the place, and the mood
now it is not just desire but
love
yes, love,
but sometimes i still wonder
what love is
when two people meet at the proper time
the proper place, and the proper mood
when everything seems right
and yet
feels so wrong
when everything is supposedly proper
and yet
there is still this
feeling of impropriety
i am 48 years old and you are 49
and i am just asking
when we all want to be inside the room of
ecstacy
and yet
they all want us
out
just because they also feel
that the timing may be right
but it simply does not
look all right
and then you are a little bit irritated and you ask
finally:
why do you talk too much?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Phase Two
Things are not the same as they use to be!
And like the muse of your love 20 years ago;
But my sweet muse to you is like the works of joy! !
For the muse of hate is never noted to me;
And, i will always stay around you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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After playing now for 60 years, it's still very challenging for me to play a simple melody and have it clean and touch the reed at the proper time in the proper way.
quote by Lee Konitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Collage Collective Art
among us few poets
in our collective collage
it is always fitting
among such words
aspiring to beauty
fitting for me to say
'I love the lines
the way your hearts
and minds think'
it would be beautiful
to speak of our art
together with one mind
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Emell
This muse of love is like how to write a song,
This muse of care is like how to write a poem,
This muse of peace is like how to write a stroy,
This muse of joy is like how to write a book,
But, i am now delivered with the muse of your love!
Because, i now live in the land of your muse and,
You are called Emell.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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So where's my silver lining?
I ofetn ly awake and wonder
while outside the stars are shining
well, on this earth someone sure loves me
and he's called my silver lining...
When i think of what he's like i see
his smile's mischivious, his eyes are loving
he's promised to love me all my life
and he's called my silver lining...
When i think of what his nature would be
so true are this thoughts & genuine each feeling
i sure hope he always stays that way
and he's called my silver lining...
When i think of what our relation feels life
he's my hero, he's protective & calls me his darling
he shares & cares, he understands my silence
and he's called my silver lining...
Well on this earth, someone sure loves me
and he's called my silver lining...
with dreams in my eyes, i'm waiting right now
so where's my silver living?
poem by Nitya Pillai
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They wrote in the old days that it is sweet and fitting to die for one's country. But in modern war, there is nothing sweet nor fitting in your dying. You will die like a dog for no good reason.
quote by Ernest Hemingway
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silver
Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep
Of doves in silver feathered sleep
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws, and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam,
By silver reeds in a silver stream.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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