Day
The Sun arises in the East
Clothd in robes of blood & gold
Swords & spears & wrath increast
All around his bosom rolld
Crownd with warlike fires & raging desires
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1793)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Golden Net
Three Virgins at the break of day
Whither young Man whither away
Alas for woe! alas for woe!
They cry and tears for ever flow
The one was Clothd in flames of firet
The other Clothd in iron wiret
The other Clothd in tears and sighst
Dazling bright before my Eyes
They bore a Net of Golden twine
To hang upon the Branches fine
Pitying I wept to see the woet
That Love and Beauty undergo
To be consumd in burning Fires
And in ungratified Desires
And in tears clothd Night and day
Melted all my Soul away
When they saw my Tears a Smile
That did Heaven itself beguile
Bore the Golden Net aloft
As on downy Pinions softt
Over the Morning of my Dayt
Underneath the Net I stray
Now intreating Burning Firet
Now intreating Iron Wiret
Now intreating Tears and Sighs
O when will the morning riset
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1794)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Female fires of wrath
Burning desires of body trim
Exercise extinguished
haiku by Ken e Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The East Gippsland Fires
In East Gippsland the fires are still going miles of woodland and farmland and bushland destroyed
The huge fire front it keeps on burning it's way through the brown Countryside,
Fires started by thunder and lightning and fires started by human kind
Amongst every rural community a firebug or two you will find
For many East Gippsland farmers a financial disaster by drought conditions already hit hard enough
The fires that have burnt to death many of their animals in their paddocks has made life for them far more tough,
The fire quenching rains are not coming the fires raging onwards and on
But the financial stress for them will continue and their heartbreak with the passing of the fires will not have gone
A tough time for farmers in general and they are facing a very tough year
But when fire rages in drought ravaged paddocks sad stories of heartbreak we do hear,
Many homes have been burned to ashes wildlife and domestic animals to the flames have been lost
Between drought and fire many rural communities left burdened with the huge financial cost
Left by the fire that burned it's way through their Country financial recovery for them may take years
And they will remember the bushfires that blackened the landscape with tears.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Sestina: Altaforte
Loquitur: En Bertrans de Born.
Dante Alighieri put this man in hell for that he was a
stirrer-up of strife.
Eccovi!
Judge ye!
Have I dug him up again?
The scene in at his castle, Altaforte. "Papiols" is his jongleur.
"The Leopard," the device of Richard (Cúur de Lion).
I
Damn it all! all this our South stinks peace.
You whoreson dog, Papiols, come! Let's to music!
I have no life save when the swords clash.
But ah! when I see the standards gold, vair, purple, opposing
And the broad fields beneath them turn crimson,
Then howl I my heart nigh mad with rejoicing.
II
In hot summer have I great rejoicing
When the tempests kill the earth's foul peace,
And the lightnings from black heav'n flash crimson,
And the fierce thunders roar me their music
And the winds shriek through the clouds mad, opposing,
And through all the riven skies God's swords clash.
III
Hell grant soon we hear again the swords clash!
And the shrill neighs of destriers in battle rejoicing,
Spiked breast to spiked breast opposing!
Better one hour's stour than a year's peace
With fat boards, bawds, wine and frail music!
Bah! there's no wine like the blood's crimson!
IV
And I love to see the sun rise blood-crimson.
And I watch his spears through the dark clash
And it fills all my heart with rejoicing
And pries wide my mouth with fast music
When I see him so scorn and defy peace,
His lone might 'gainst all darkness opposing.
V
The man who fears war and squats opposing
My words for stour, hath no blood of crimson
But is fit only to rot in womanish peace
Far from where worth's won and the swords clash
For the death of such sluts I go rejoicing;
Yea, I fill all the air with my music.
VI
Papiols, Papiols, to the music!
There's no sound like to swords swords opposing,
No cry like the battle's rejoicing
When our elbows and swords drip the crimson
And our charges 'gainst "The Leopard's" rush clash.
May God damn for ever all who cry "Peace!"
VII
And let the music of the swords make them crimson!
Hell grant soon we hear again the swords clash!
Hell blot black for always the thought "Peace!"
poem by Ezra Pound
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Morning
To find the western path
Right thro the gates of Wrath
I urge my way
Sweet Mercy leads me on
With soft repentant moan
I see the break of day
The war of swords and spears
Melted by dewy tears
Exhales on high
The Sun is freed from fears
And with soft grateful tears
Ascends the sky
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1794)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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African Rhythms
1.
Jumping on strings
bending time,
they created blissful futures;
stripping metaphors and similes,
making realities clear.
With palms facing skies,
they praised Jesus:
stamping,
speaking in tongues,
they revived ancestries;
smiling under suns,
on toes,
on soles,
on heels.
2.
Beating drums,
ripping garbs,
flipping dusts,
they danced in circles
with glistered scalps.
Alternating in lines,
they raised knees;
smiling under suns,
on toes,
on soles,
on heels.
3.
Women and girls,
adorned in red,
green and gold robes,
gold necklaces,
gold bracelets,
diamond earrings,
diamond anklets,
and scented perfumes;
smiling under suns,
on toes,
on soles,
on heels.
4.
Men and boys,
attired in black robes
and red, green and gold headbands;
moved back and forth,
with wood spears,
held in right hands:
chanting, as they feigned war;
smiling under suns,
on toes,
on soles,
on heels.
poem by Buxton Shippy
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A Raging Battle, An Epic Fight
The sun is out
When you hear a shout
Soldiers’ dash
Swords clash
A sorcerer duke
A lady knight
A raging battle
An epic fight
The prince is weakening
The duke is leering
A clash of swords
Blood falls to the floor
The sorcerer duke fails
Good has prevailed
The prince calls the lady
The daylight is fading
The battle is over
Good has triumphed
Accepted at last
The lady knight basks
In acceptance.
poem by Amanda Tambacas
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Gold Watch And Chain
(A.P. Carter)
Oh I'll pawn you my gold watch and chain, love
And I'll pawn you my gold wedding ring
I will pawn you this heart in my bosom
Only say that you'll love me again
Darling, how could I stay here without you
I have nothing to ease my poor heart
This old world would seem sad, love, without you
Tell me now that we never will part
Oh I'll pawn you my gold watch and chain, love
And I'll pawn you my gold wedding ring
I will pawn you this heart in my bosom
Only say that you'll love me again
Take back all the gifts you have given
A diamond ring and a lock of your hair
And a card with your picture upon it
It's a face that is false but is fair
Oh I'll pawn you my gold watch and chain, love
And I'll pawn you my gold wedding ring
I will pawn you this heart in my bosom
Only say that you'll love me again
Oh, the white rose that blooms in the garden
It grows with the love of my heart
It broke through on the day that I met you
It will die on the day that we part
Oh I'll pawn you my gold watch and chain, love
And I'll pawn you my gold wedding ring
I will pawn you this heart in my bosom
Only say that you'll love me again
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fires Of Our Dreams
In the fires of our dreams,
we burn our desires away.
Among the ashes that we scatter
old and distant loves lay.
In the warmth of the raptures,
we hold our youth’s accolade
clinging to forgotten pleasures
we once used to seek.
We erase the traces
of conquests we wish we made
with removal of errant faces
from the corners of our mind.
We scatter them to the four winds
for now and all time
in the fires of our dreams,
we burn our desires away.
15 August 2009
poem by David Harris
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Fires Of Hell
(the futility of war)
Oh, i was born your only son
And i will think of you
Before this day is done
The fires of hell surround me now
So i must fight for freedom
Against their raging guns
In all my life i never said
How much i loved you
In all this time
I never really said i cared
This war is wrong and so
I write these words
Before i give my life to the somme
In all my life i never said
How much i loved you
In all this time
I never really knew you
The fires of hell surround me, oh
The guns of hell will
Take my breath away
From my life this day
The fires of hell surround me, oh
The words i say
Must never disappear
Keep them locked inside your heart
I can hear the piper's song
And it will play for me
Before this day is done
So i will hold my head up high
If i must give my life
To stop their raging guns
Oh, i was born your only son
And i thank god for that and
That that will be done
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wrath Did End
i was angry with my friend
now i told my wrath,
the wrath did end,
i wandered in fears,
whole day with my tears,
but i cant be apart,
so i told my wrath,
the wrath did end.
my soul told me
how can you hurt,
whom you placed
in your heart,
so i told my wrath,
and wrath did end.
i am back my dear,
and never ever do so.
u also please dont,
treat me as a foe,
and tell your wrath,
and wrath will end
poem by Anubhav gupta
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Showered
In the shower
Holding you close
Kissing you closer.
You moonshine eyes burning.
With unleashed desires.
A million soft kisses
Ignite
Our bodies.
With pinprick candlelight fires.
Quenched only
By the sweetest rhythm
Of desperate elation.
Such tingling sensation,
That cascades
In attempt to cool our fervour.
Burning like stars
Your cries
That will forever ring
In passioned dream.
As we cling
To the strength of our love
In that raging sea.
In unison to sing.
Touching souls
That bloom
And flower
Forever.
The night we showered.
We abandoned this world
To fly
In the arms of a sunset sky.
Fever running high.
Under the warm rain,
Never to recover
From crazy delight.
The torrent of our finale
We traded
With unspeakable joy.
Holding tight.
Until
Our breath would return.
As now we yearn
For encore.
poem by Kevin East
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Gold Watch & Chain
(a.p. carter)
Oh Ill pawn you my gold watch and chain, love
And Ill pawn you my gold wedding ring
I will pawn you this heart in my bosom
Only say that youll love me again
Darling, how could I stay here without you
I have nothing to ease my poor heart
This old world would seem sad, love, without you
Tell me now that we never will part
Oh Ill pawn you my gold watch and chain, love
And Ill pawn you my gold wedding ring
I will pawn you this heart in my bosom
Only say that youll love me again
Take back all the gifts you have given
A diamond ring and a lock of your hair
And a card with your picture upon it
Its a face that is false but is fair
Oh Ill pawn you my gold watch and chain, love
And Ill pawn you my gold wedding ring
I will pawn you this heart in my bosom
Only say that youll love me again
Oh, the white rose that blooms in the garden
It grows with the love of my heart
It broke through on the day that I met you
It will die on the day that we part
Oh Ill pawn you my gold watch and chain, love
And Ill pawn you my gold wedding ring
I will pawn you this heart in my bosom
Only say that youll love me again
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The War Against the Tide.
The brave kingdom of blood and swords,
Was doomed to fail,
Goblins marched,
Cavalry vibrating the land with its mere walk,
The giant Xerxes was on his way to enslave Sparta,
Spartans.........
300 greatest warriors led by our King Leonidas marched up the Hell's Gate,
Swords shined, shields were ready for engraving the assaults, and the spears ready to Majesty Sparta,
Persians came far and wide,
Our King, the bravest knight,
Led the wall of Phalanx with spear and shield,
The freedom; from the paradoxical God was the yield,
The 300s fought till their corpses fell down,
They still never did knelt for the Xerxes clown,
King Leonidas and his 300 died in glory,
Shattering and quelling the mighty Goblin's story,
Now again that wolf did pick his eye upon,
Every Spartan was prepared for battle on the brutal dawn,
Xerxes feared his end was near,
He new how 300 lethal swords did the talking,
Hell awaited Xerxes...
As the Goblin Destruction was accomplishing.
poem by Vikrant Jog
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The Dole Of The King's Daughter (Breton)
Seven stars in the still water,
And seven in the sky;
Seven sins on the King's daughter,
Deep in her soul to lie.
Red roses are at her feet,
(Roses are red in her red-gold hair)
And O where her bosom and girdle meet
Red roses are hidden there.
Fair is the knight who lieth slain
Amid the rush and reed,
See the lean fishes that are fain
Upon dead men to feed.
Sweet is the page that lieth there,
(Cloth of gold is goodly prey,)
See the black ravens in the air,
Black, O black as the night are they.
What do they there so stark and dead?
(There is blood upon her hand)
Why are the lilies flecked with red?
(There is blood on the river sand.)
There are two that ride from the south and east,
And two from the north and west,
For the black raven a goodly feast,
For the King's daughter rest.
There is one man who loves her true,
(Red, O red, is the stain of gore!)
He hath duggen a grave by the darksome yew,
(One grave will do for four.)
No moon in the still heaven,
In the black water none,
The sins on her soul are seven,
The sin upon his is one.
poem by Oscar Wilde
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Night the First
'If you account it Wisdom when you are angry to be silent and
Not shew it: I do not account that Wisdom but folly.
Every Man's Wisdom is peculiar ro his own Individuality.
Lo Satan, my youngest born, art thou not Prince of the Starry Hosts
And of the Wheels of Heaven, to turn the Mills day & night?
Art thou not Newton's Pantocrator weaving the the woof of Locke?
To Mortals the Mills seem every thing & the Harrow of Shaddai
A scheme of Human conduct invisible & incomprehensible.
Get to thy Labours at the Mills & leave me to my wrath.'
. . .
Ah weak & wide astray: Ah shut in narrow doleful form
Creeping in reptile flesh upon the bosom of the ground:
The Eye of Man a little narrow orb closd up & dark
Scarcely beholding the great light, conversing with the Void:
The Ear a little shell in small volutions shutting out
All melodies & comprehending only Discord & Harmony;
The Tongue a little moisture Fills, a little food it cloys,
A little sound it utters & its cries are fa;sely heard,
Then brings forth Moral Virtue the cruel Virgin Babylon.
'Can such an Eye judge of the stars? & looking thro its tubes
Measure the sunny rays that point their spears in Udanadan?
Can such an Ear filld with the vapours of the yawning pit
Judge of the pure melodious harp struck by a hand divine:
Can such closed Nostrils feel a joy? or tell of autumn fruits
When grapes & figs burst their covering to the joyful air?
Can such a Tongue boast of the living waters? or take in
Ought but the Vegetable Ratio & loathe the faint delight?
Can such gross Lips percieve? alas, folded within themselves
They touch not ought but pallid turn & tremble at every wind.'
For Satan flaming with Rintrah's fury hidden beneath his own mildness
Accus'd Palamabron before the Assembly of ingratitude: of malice:
He created Seven deadly Sins drawing out his infernal scroll
Of Moral laws and cruel punishments upon the clouds of Jehovah
To pervert the Divine voice in its entrance to the earth
With thunder of war & trumpets' sound, with armies of disease,
Punishments & deaths musterd & number'd; 'Saying I am God alone;
There is no other: let all obey my principles of moral individuality.
I have brough them from the uppermost innermost recesses
Of my Eternal Mind, transgressors I will rend off for ever,
As now I rend this accursed Family from my covering.'
Thus Satan rag'd amidst the Assembly: and his bosom grew
Opake against the Divine Vision, the paved terraces of
His bosom inwards shone with fires, but the stones becoming opake
Hid him from sight, in an extreme blackness and darkness,
And there a World of deeper Ulrio was opend, in the midst
Of the Assembly. In Satan's bosom a vast unfathomable Abyss.
Astonishment held the Assembly in an awful silence: and tears
Fell down as dews of night, & a loud solemn universal groan
Was utter'd from the east & from the west & from the south
And from the north; and Satan stood opake immeasurable
Covering the east with solid blackness, round his hidden heart
With thunders utterd from his hidden wheels: accusing loud
The Divine Mercy for protecting Palamabron in his tent.
Rintrah rear'd up walls of rocks and pourd rovers & moats
Of fire round the walls: columns of fire guard around
Between Satan and Palmabron in the terrible darkness.
And Satan not having the Science of Wrath, but only of Pity
Rent them asunder, and wrath was left to wrath, & pity to pity.
He sunk down a dreadful Death, unlike the slumbers of Beulah.
The Sparation was terrible: the Dead was repos'd on his Couch
Beneath the Couch of Albion, on the seven mountains of Rome
In the whole place of the Covering Cherub, Rome, Babylon & Tyre.
His Spectre raging furious descended into its Space.
. . .
'Let the Bard himself witness. Where hadst thou this terrible Song?'
The Bard replied: 'I am Inspired! I know it his Truth! for I Sing
According to the inspiration of Poetic Genius
Whos is the eternal all-protecting Divine Humanity
To whom he Glory & Power & Dominion Evermore Amen.'
. . .
Then Milton rose up from the heavens of Albion ardorous!
The whole Assembly wept propgetic, seeing in Milton's face
And in his lineaments divine the Shades of Death & Ulro.
He took off the robe of the promise, & ungirded himself from the oath of God.
And Milton said, 'I go to Eternal Death! The Nations still
Follow after the destestable Gods of Priam; in pomp
Of warlike selfhood, contradicting and blaspheming.
When will the Resurrection come; ro deliver the sleeping body
From corruptibility; O when, Lord Jesus, wilt thou come?
Tarry no longer; for my soul lies at the gates of death.
I will arise and look forth for the morning of the grave.
I will go down to the sepulcher to see if morning breaks!
Lest the Last Judgement come & find me unannihilate
And I siez'd & giv'n into the hands of my own Selfhood.
The Lamb of God is seen thro' mists & shadows, hov'ring
Over the sepulchers in clouds of Jehovah & winds of Elohim,
A disk of blood distant, distant; & heav'ns & earths will roll dark between.
What do I here before the Judgement? without my Emanation?
With the daufgters of memory, & not with the daughters of inspiration?
I in my Selfhood am that Satan: I am that Evil One!
He is my Spectre! in my obedience to loose him from my Hells,
To claim the Hells, my Furnaces, I go to Eternal Death.'
. . .
Four Universes round the Mundane Egg remain Chaotic,
One to the North, named Urthona: One to the South, named Urizen:
One to the East, named Luvah: One to the West, named Tharmas.
They are the Four Zoa's that stood around the Throne Divine:
But when Luvah assum;d the World of Urizen to the South:
And Albion was slain upon his mountains, & in his tent:
All fell towards the Center in dire ruiin, sinking down.
And in the South remains a burning fire; in the East a void;
In the West, a world of raging waters; in the North a solid,
Unfathomable: without end. But in the midst of these
In built eternally the Universe of Los and Enitharmon:
. . .
poem by William Blake from Vala or The Four Zoas: Night the First
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sonnet LIX: Unhappy Pen
Unhappy pen and ill-accepted papers,
That intimate in vain my chaste desires,
My chaste desires, the ever-burning tapers
Enkindled by her eyes' celestial fires.
Celestial fires and unrespecting powers,
That deign not view the glory of your might
In humble lines, the work of carefull hours,
The sacrifice I offer to her sight.
But sith she scorns her own, this rests for me;
I'll moan myself and hide the wrong I have,
And so content me that her frowns should be
To my'infant style the cradle and the grave.
What though myself no honor get thereby,
Each bird sings t'herself, and so will I.
poem by Samuel Daniel
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East Of The River
Gotta gotta know
I see the sun in your eyes
Let me take your hand
And well go to wonderland
Bet youve asked silly questions
Like do I still love you
Better than eating, honey
Cos youre the girl from the east of the river
They all went mad on the way out west end
But weve all bet our bottom dollar
That my archfull flame
Will win you over
Cos Im the lie
That tells the truth
Cos youre the girl from the east of the river
Where all the grass is greener
And out pockets
Are all paved with gold
Please turn to gold
Please return to old east of the river
But it wont work with nobody but you
Cos youre the girl from the east of the river
song performed by by Wet Wet Wet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Furnace To The Flood
From the fiery furnace of life, we’re delivered by Jesus Christ.
When those fiery flames appear, our Lord God is always near,
There to lift us above that flame, all in the Power of His Name,
Protecting all of us from each fire, is our Lord’s heart’s desire.
As The Lord so desires to purify, in life’s fires, both you and I,
From a life of unrighteousness, fires allow iniquities to surface,
As we’re cleansed of old dross, In Christ’s power of The Cross,
To live for God and Jesus Christ, in our life as a living sacrifice.
When overwhelmed by a flood, we’re reminded of God’s Blood,
The Lord’s power at Calvary, continues in the life of you and me,
From the flood’s billowing waves, God reaches down and saves,
Saving us from the floods of life, is The Shepherd, Jesus Christ.
It is The Lord’s sustaining power, through any flood, any shower,
When the rains of life begin to pour, our Lord helps us to endure,
Holding us above the water’s flow, Christ desires to help us grow,
Through His Spirit dwelling inside, He’s with us in the highest tide.
Fires and floods, when they come, wherever in life, they are from,
Are used by God in this life, to conform believers to Jesus Christ,
Within the fire and the flood, we are molded by our Lord and God,
Being refined in the Image of Christ, to display The Lord in our life.
Love Song
There is a strong wall about me to protect me:
It is built of the words you have said to me.
There are swords about me to keep me safe:
They are the kisses of your lips.
Before me goes a shield to guard me from harm:
It is the shadow of your arms between me and danger.
All the wishes of my mind know your name,
And the white desires of my heart
They are acquainted with you.
The cry of my body for completeness,
That is a cry to you.
My blood beats out your name to me,
unceasing, pitiless
Your name, your name.
poem by Mary Carolyn Davies
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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