Sonnet 10
Thus was my love, thus was my Ganymed,
(Heavens joy, worlds wonder, natures fairest work,
In whose aspect Hope and Dispaire doe lurke)
Made of pure blood in whitest snow yshed,
And for sweete Venus only form'd his face,
And his each member delicately framed,
And last of all faire Ganymede him named,
His limbs (as their Creatrix) her imbrace.
But as for his pure, spotles, vertuous minde,
Because it sprung of chaste Dianaes blood,
(Goddesse of Maides, directresse of all good,)
Hit wholy is to chastity inclinde.
And thus it is: as far as I can prove,
He loves to be beloved, but not to love.
poem by Richard Barnfield
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sonnet 19
Ah no; nor I my seife: though my pure love
(Sweete Ganymede) to thee hath still beene pure,
And even till my last gaspe shall aie endure,
Could ever thy obdurate beuty move:
Then cease oh Goddesse sonne (for sure thou art,
A Goddesse sonne that canst resist desire)
Cease thy hard heart, and entertaine loves fire,
Within thy sacred breast: by Natures art.
And as I love thee more then any Creature,
(Love thee, because thy beautie is divine:
Love thee, because my selfe, my soule is thine:
Wholie devoted to thy lovelie feature),
Even so of all the vowels, I and U,
Are dearest unto me, as doth ensue.
poem by Richard Barnfield
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sonnet 9
Diana (on a time) walking the wood,
To sport herselfe, of her faire traine forlorne,
Chaunc't for to pricke her foote against a thorne,
And from thence issu'd out a streame of blood.
No sooner shee was vanisht out of sight,
But loues faire Queen came there away by chance,
And hauing of this hap a glym'ring glance,
She put the blood into a christall bright,
When being now come vnto mount Rhodope,
With her faire hands she formes a shape of Snow,
And blends it with this blood; from whence doth grow
A louely creature, brighter than the Dey.
And being christned in faire Paphos shrine,
She call'd him Ganymede: as all diuine.
poem by Richard Barnfield
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sonnet 12
Some talke of Ganymede th' Idalian Boy,
And some of faire Adonis make their boast,
Some talke of him whom lovely Laeda lost,
And some of Ecchoes love that was so coy.
They speake by heere-say, I of perfect truth,
They partially commend the persons named,
And for them, sweet Encomions have framed:
I onely t'him have sacrifized my youth.
As for those wonders of antiquitie,
And those whom later ages have injoy'd
(But ah what hath not cruell death destroide?
Death, that envies this worlds felicitie),
They were (perhaps) lesse faire then Poets write.
But he is fairer then I can indite.
poem by Richard Barnfield
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Where the blood is pure and holy !
Where the blood is pure and holy,
Where the blood is red and costly,
Where the blood is not shed and spoiled,
Where the blood is not sucked and spilled.
Where the life is pure and holy,
Where the life is dear and costly,
Where the life is not rotten and wasted,
Where the life is not stagnant and gutted.
Where love is pure and holy,
Where love is not taken cheaply,
Where love is not a trap and trick,
Where love is not the game of a freak.
Where truth is pure and holy,
Where truth is honour and dignity,
Where truth is not polluted and strangulated,
Where truth is not slaughtered and murdered.
.
Where the Lord is pure and holy!
Where the Lord is full of love and sympathy!
Where the Lord changes His own friend!
Where the Lord changes His own land!
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Standing Next To You
Take me to a better place.
One more honest.
One more pure.
One that puts me on top of the heavens.
Looking down upon everything and everyone.
Keep me from saving face.
Admitting a terrible mistake that I have made.
To everything and everyone.
Why it can't be a simple dream?
One that you can simply grab out and reach.
And the one standing next to you.
Please guide me to where it is we're suppose go.
Because I just don't know yet if I am going make it.
Take me to a better place.
One more honest.
One more pure.
One that puts me on top of the heavens.
Looking down upon everything and everyone.
Let the existence be true.
Please don't let it fall through.
With hope as my prayer.
Let it take wings.
In place I've never seen and probably will never be.
For a too large a distance divides.
An impenetrable barrier resides.
Only my voice survives.
It glides through a sequence of mazes.
Sometimes I think something gets lost in the translation.
But one way or another.
Take me to a better place.
One more honest.
One more pure.
One that puts me on top of the heavens.
Looking down upon everything and everyone.
Its not any ones fault and I don't blame any of you.
I'll do what is needed.
Not because I have to.
Or in anyway need to.
Without reluctance sometimes still choices are made.
Living among life without life.
The body breaths but does it move.
Take me to a better place.
One more honest.
One more pure.
One that puts me on top of the heavens.
Looking down upon everything and everyone.
Take me to a better place.
One more honest.
One more pure.
One that puts me on top of the heavens.
Looking down upon everything and everyone.
Because right now I'm without you.
Right Now, Right Now, I Am Without You.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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To Lucasta. Going To the Warres.
I.
Tell me not, (sweet,) I am unkinde,
That from the nunnerie
Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde
To warre and armes I flie.
II.
True: a new Mistresse now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith imbrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.
III.
Yet this inconstancy is such,
As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Lov'd I not Honour more.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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The Light of Love
The light of love rests upon my face
And from within...has set me free
Love's created my... happy heart
And of hopes...of things...I'll be
The light of love abides... within...
My soul now like child
Starts my broken heart...to blossoming
With warmth....and radaince...mild
Today I have purpose...By loves
rare light...I feel
Pure love...loves pure light to
My soul... it revealed
My family...let loves light devine
Shine on us...I say...
Touch our hearts...and eyes...
That all may see
Love on us...Love...convey
Now this... my only mission is... sacrad
To send loves message far
The light of love...is my heart
Love... my guiding star
I tell my family and.... well.... well... they never listen, to these words
That only true love can say
For only true love can convey
So...If you love someone
Then... follow that heart
For when love is real and true
From love you'll never depart
For only pure love can
Fix the man with broken heart
poem by Clyde Bryson
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Nothing But the Blood
What can wash away my sin?
Nothing but the blood of Jesus;
What can make me whole again?
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
For my pardon this I see -
Nothing but the blood of Jesus;
For my cleansing, this my plea -
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
Nothing can for sin atone -
Nothing but the blood of Jesus;
Naught of good that I have done -
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
This is all my hope and peace -
Nothing but the blood of Jesus;
This is all my righteousness -
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
CHORUS
Oh! precious is the flow
That makes me white as snow;
No other fount I know,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
poem by Robert Wadsworth Lowry
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Sonnet: God Loves Man Utmost
Of all His creatures, big and small, God made
Just man to walk upright and to reason;
‘tween good and bad and to do good, He bade;
To love Him deep regardless of season.
Of all His creatures, to man, He gave soul;
A dorsum flat to rest supine on earth;
To watch the Heavens and reset his goal;
To ponder why he got his unique birth.
Of all His creatures, Man, God loves utmost;
He made him pure and pure, He must return;
Heaven's the banquet, God, to man shall host,
Devils and evil souls in hell shall burn.
God so loved man, He gave His only son,
A cruciate death, His plan stays still half-done.
poem by John Celes
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For A Gentleman, Who, Kissinge His Friend At His Departure Left A Signe Of Blood On Her
What mystery was this; that I should finde
My blood in kissing you to stay behinde?
'Twas not for want of color that requirde
My blood for paynt: No dye could be desirde
On that fayre silke, where scarlett were a spott
And where the juice of lillies but a blotte.
'Twas not the signe of murther that did taynt
The harmlesse beauty of so pure a saynt:
Yes, of a loving murther, which rough steele
Could never worke; such as we joy to feele:
Wherby the ravisht soule though dying lives,
Since life and death the selfsame object gives.
If at the presence of a murtherer
The wound will bleede and tell the cause is ther,
A touch will doe much more, and thus my heart,
When secretly it felt the killing darte,
Shew'd it in blood: which yet doth more complayne
Because it cannot be so touched againe.
This wounded heart, to shew its love most true,
Sent forth a droppe and writ its minde on you.
Never was paper halfe so white as this,
Nor waxe so yeelding to the printed kisse,
Nor seal'd so strong. Noe letter ere was writt
That could the author's minde so truly hitt.
For though myselfe to foreigne countries flie,
My blood desires to keepe you company.
Here could I spill it all: thus I can free
Mine enemy from blood, though slayne I be:
But slayne I cannot bee, nor meete with ill,
Since but by you I have no blood to spill.
poem by William Strode
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Seeta, a pity.
Seeta, you are a noble lady,
So chaste, so modest and so graceful.
Rama is your noble lord,
So virtuous, so chivalrous and so truthful.
Ravna is your bitter lover,
So passionate, so devoted and so lustful.
Rama waged a war to redeem you.
Ravna laid his life to retain you.
Rama loved you, as you are his wife.
Ravna wanted you for what you are.
Rama tested you by fire.
If you failed, what would be your fate?
Can Ravna do so, if he were in Rama’s shoes?
Love of Rama is conditional
Love of Ravna is categorical.
Rama loves you; Ravna devours you.
You are second to none to Ravna,
Who lost everything for you and
Who could do anything for you?
Have not you committed a sin
In being the cause for killing a loving dog?
The love for keeping chastity,
More than you love for Rama,
Weighed on you to reject Ravna.
The love for your chastity,
Rather than his love for you,
Weighed on Rama to own you back.
Ravna’s love for you is pure.
He desired you more than Rama did.
You would have lived more vividly
Had you met Ravna first and married.
Instead, you were at loss to earn a sin.
I pity you.
06.06.2002, pakd
[Based on the Hindu Epic
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Hope That I Have Found
I feel strange yet overjoyed
I never thought that there would be any hope for me
Yet I found some
A woman so beautiful and pure
I love her and she loves me
I can’t believe that I’ve finally had success
After all the failure
I’ve finally found the light
I’ve finally done something right
I hope to nurture and grow and revel in this love
I hope that I won’t ever fail her in love
A new man I am
Living in a new phase of life
Finally accomplishing my dream
My dream of having love in my life
This love I have will last for years I hope
She is my love forevermore
My love for as long as our love is real and pure
poem by Alex Fischer
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Snow...
I know not how I'll die.
I know not the time,
but what I do know
is that I will die.
It may not be tomorrow.
It may not be next year.
But what I do know
is that there will be snow.
I love snow.
It glitters and glissens.
I love snow.
It's like a blessin'.
Snow is pure.
Snow is white.
But most of all
it's a wonderful sight.
But the snow won't be pure.
The snow won't be white.
Because when I die
it will show a horrible sight.
poem by Michelle Dickson
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Sonnet 4
Two stars there are in one faire firmament,
(Of some intitled Ganymedes sweet face),
Which other stars in brightnes doe disgrace,
As much as Po in clearenes passeth Trent.
Nor are they common natur'd stars: for why,
These stars when other shine vaile their pure light,
And when all other vanish out of sight,
They adde a glory to the worlds great eie.
By these two stars my life is onely led,
In them I place my joy, in them my pleasure,
Love's piercing Darts, and Natures precious treasure
With their sweet foode my fainting soule is fed:
Then when my sunne is absent from my sight
How can it chuse (with me) but be dark night?
poem by Richard Barnfield
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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His Pure Love
His pure love
was shown
that day
at calvary.
They didn't,
take away Jesus's
life that day,
He gave it freely.
A crown of thorns
was placed on His head
blood flowed down
His face that day.
He was guilty
of no crime,
only of the
pure love He gave away.
He was mocked
and shamed,
beaten with,
so many stripes.
His face was
so bloody that
day at calvary
He tried to carry,
His cross but so
weak to do it,
Simon Cyrene was,
compelled to bear
His cross.
Jesus came into this
world to show
us His pure love,
now He was to,
really show the
world His pure
love for us, Jesus
was nailed to the,
cross that day
suffering and dying
for the sins of the
world.
Every one thought
they had seen the
last of Jesus, but
3 days later, he arose
from the dead.
After showing Himself
to over 500 people, and
telling His disciples to
spread the gospel,
He was taken up and
a cloud received Him
out of their sight,
and that is what Easter
is all about.
(4-5-07/from parts of the four gospels
and Acts chapter one verse 9)
Air and Angels
Twice or thrice had I loved thee,
Before I knew thy face or name;
So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame
Angels affect us oft, and worshipp'd be.
Still when, to where thou wert, I came,
Some lovely glorious nothing did I see.
But since my soul, whose child love is,
Takes limbs of flesh, and else could nothing do,
More subtle than the parent is
Love must not be, but take a body too;
And therefore what thou wert, and who,
I bid Love ask, and now
That it assume thy body, I allow,
And fix itself in thy lip, eye, and brow.
Whilst thus to ballast love I thought,
And so more steadily to have gone,
With wares which would sink admiration,
I saw I had love's pinnace overfraught;
Thy every hair for love to work upon
Is much too much; some fitter must be sought;
For, nor in nothing, nor in things
Extreme, and scattering bright, can love inhere;
Then as an angel face and wings
Of air, not pure as it, yet pure doth wear,
So thy love may be my love's sphere;
Just such disparity
As is 'twixt air's and angels' purity,
'Twixt women's love, and men's, will ever be.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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In the spirit of Rumi - 10
I said to My Beloved
You have given me all Your love;
I have given You all my love;
what more can I give to You?
My Beloved said
If you love Me, then show your love
by seeing, knowing, all
that happens to you in your short life
as gifts from Me..
all events, all acts, all thoughts,
all seeming accidents, all illnesses,
all that arises from your meetings with others,
all their words to you –
see them all as Me
I said to My Beloved,
O My Beloved, my love is great
yet my will is weak;
I love You as I love life itself -
help me in this!
My Beloved said
It will not be easy; for
this will be the measure of your love for Me…
My help is this:
every time you see Me in some passing moment,
in some passing event in your life
be it harsh, or seem unfair— yes,
especially in this, my fiercely loving love -
you will know My love for you
as you have never known My love
for you so great, so pure
I said to My Beloved
This hard and lovely thing, O My Beloved,
will be the measure of my love for You.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Hey There Beloved
Hey there beloved why are you walking away from me?
Hey there beloved don't you know all those gifts are from me?
Hey there beloved I carried you through your storms
Hey there beloved come back to me
Hey there beloved don't you know I'm waiting with open arms
Hey there beloved I wish you were not blind but could turn back and see
Hey there beloved don't you notice my art?
Hey there beloved my love for you is in every night sky
Hey there beloved look for my love in the sunset
Hey there beloved, the sun is for you
Hey there beloved the coolness of clouds is for your enjoyment
Hey there beloved I love you
Hey there beloved You can walk away
Hey there beloved it makes me cry when you chase other lovers, but
Hey there beloved I'll let you go because I want you to choose me
Hey there beloved I want you to learn to love me
Hey there beloved don't go to them
Hey there beloved they cannot fill you up
Hey there beloved, I'll never give up on you
Hey there beloved I'm full of tears
Hey there beloved I made you for so much more
Hey there beloved you don't have to dress like that
Hey there beloved they don't really love you
Hey there beloved you're more than just a body
Hey there beloved you don't have to try to be something you're not
Hey there beloved I still love you
Hey there beloved you don't have to earn my love
Hey there beloved those things won't satisfy you
Hey there beloved heed my voice that path will destroy you
Hey there beloved you're broken, but
Hey there beloved my heart breaks for you
Hey there beloved can't you see the brokenness?
Hey there beloved why do you ignore me
Hey there beloved.... I love you with all that I am
Hey there beloved, that's everything there is
Hey there beloved I love you with my entire being
Hey there beloved that's grander than the universe itself
Hey there beloved you've strayed so far away
Hey there beloved I'll always call you back
Hey there beloved I'll always be waiting
Hey there beloved I still love y-
Hey there beloved h--
Hey there be-----
Hey--------
H--------
______ ______________
poem by David Knox
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Poem Title
A face painted to the eye
A portrait offered to the heart
Builds a feeling built to climb
Touching skies overhead
Amidst high heavens rising
A poem without a title
The ode to loves beginning
Speaks of all that’s seen
And all that’s felt within
In the eye the face painted
Beautiful and pure
Soft skin and petal lips
A look holds gazing
Perfectly framed with hair
Woven tresses curl
Breath taken to silence
Words wait to be written
A ode to loves beginning
A face painted to the eye
A poem without a title
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Corydon's Doleful Knell
My Phillida, adieu love!
For evermore farewel!
Ay me! I've lost my true love,
And thus I ring her knell,
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong,
My Phillida is dead!
I'll stick a branch of willow
At my fair Phillis' head.
For my fair Phillida
Our bridal bed was made;
But 'stead of silkes so gay,
She in her shroud is laid.
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong.
Her corpse shall be attended
By maides in fair array,
Till the obsequies are ended,
And she is wrapt in clay.
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong.
Her herse it shall be carried
By youths that do excell;
And when that she is buried,
I thus will ring her knell.
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong.
A garland shall be framed
By art and natures skill,
Of sundry-colour'd flowers,
In token of good-will.
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong.
And sundry-colour'd ribbands
On it I will bestow;
But chiefly black and yellowe
With her to grave shall go.
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong.
I'll decke her tomb with flowers,
The rarest ever seen,
And with my tears, as showers,
I'll keepe them fresh and green.
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong.
Instead of fairest colours,
Set forth with curious art,
Her image shall be painted
On my distressed heart.
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong.
And thereon shall be graven,
Her epitaph so faire,
'Here lies the loveliest maiden,
That e'er gave shepheard care.'
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong.
In sable will I mourne;
Blacke shall be all my weede:
Ay me! I am forlorne
Now Phillida is dead!
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong,
My Phillida is dead!
I'll stick a branch of willow
At my fair Phillis' head.
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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