The Prisoner
Still let my tyrants know, I am not doomed to wear
Year after year in gloom and desolate despair;
A messenger of Hope comes every night to me,
And offers for short life, eternal liberty.
He comes with western winds, with evening's wandering airs,
With that clear dusk of heaven that brings the thickest stars:
Winds take a pensive tone, and stars a tender fire,
And visions rise, and change, that kill me with desire.
Desire for nothing known in my maturer years,
When Joy grew mad with awe, at counting future tears:
When, if my spirit's sky was full of flashes warm,
I knew not whence they came, from sun or thunderstorm.
But first, a hush of peace -a soundless calm descends;
The struggle of distress and fierce impatience ends;
Mute music soothes my breast -unuttered harmony
That I could never dream, till Earth was lost to me.
Then dawns the Invisible; the Unseen its truth reveals;
My outward sense is gone, my inward essence feels;
Its wings are almost free -its home, its harbour found;
Measuring the gulf, it stoops, and dares the final bound.
O dreadful is the check -intense the agony -
When the ear begins to hear, and the eye begins to see;
When the pulse begins to throb, the brain to think again,
The soul to feel the flesh, and the flesh to feel the chain.
Yet I would lose no sting, would wish no torture less;
The more that anguish racks, the earlier it will bless;
And robed in fires of hell, or bright with heavenly shine,
If it but herald Death, the vision is divine.
poem by Emily Jane Brontë
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Prisoner
In the dungeon-crypts idly did I stray,
Reckless of the lives wasting there away;
'Draw the ponderous bars! open, Warder stern!'
He dared not say me nay—the hinges harshly turn.
'Our guests are darkly lodged,' I whisper'd, gazing through
The vault, whose grated eye showed heaven more gray than blue;
(This was when glad Spring laughed in awaking pride);
'Ay, darkly lodged enough!' returned my sullen guide.
Then, God forgive my youth; forgive my careless tongue;
I scoffed, as the chill chains on the damp flagstones rung:
'Confined in triple walls, art thou so much to fear,
That we must bind thee down and clench thy fetters here?'
The captive raised her face; it was as soft and mild
As sculptured marble saint, or slumbering unwean'd child;
It was so soft and mild, it was so sweet and fair,
Pain could not trace a line, nor grief a shadow there!
The captive raised her hand and pressed it to her brow;
'I have been struck,' she said, 'and I am suffering now;
Yet these are little worth, your bolts and irons strong;
And, were they forged in steel, they could not hold me long.'
Hoarse laughed the jailor grim: 'Shall I be won to hear;
Dost think, fond, dreaming wretch, that I shall grant thy prayer?
Or, better still, wilt melt my master's heart with groans?
Ah! sooner might the sun thaw down these granite stones.
'My master's voice is low, his aspect bland and kind,
But hard as hardest flint the soul that lurks behind;
And I am rough and rude, yet not more rough to see
Than is the hidden ghost that has its home in me.'
About her lips there played a smile of almost scorn,
'My friend,' she gently said, 'you have not heard me mourn;
When you my kindred's lives, my lost life, can restore,
Then may I weep and sue,—but never, friend, before!
'Still, let my tyrants know, I am not doomed to wear
Year after year in gloom, and desolate despair;
A messenger of Hope comes every night to me,
And offers for short life, eternal liberty.
'He comes with western winds, with evening's wandering airs,
With that clear dusk of heaven that brings the thickest stars.
Winds take a pensive tone, and stars a tender fire,
And visions rise, and change, that kill me with desire.
'Desire for nothing known in my maturer years,
When Joy grew mad with awe, at counting future tears.
When, if my spirit's sky was full of flashes warm,
I knew not whence they came, from sun or thunder-storm.
'But, first, a hush of peace—a soundless calm descends;
The struggle of distress, and fierce impatience ends;
Mute music soothes my breast—unuttered harmony,
That I could never dream, till Earth was lost to me.
'Then dawns the Invisible; the Unseen its truth reveals;
My outward sense is gone, my inward essence feels:
Its wings are almost free—its home, its harbour found,
Measuring the gulph, it stoops and dares the final bound,
'Oh! dreadful is the check—intense the agony—
When the ear begins to hear, and the eye begins to see;
When the pulse begins to throb, the brain to think again;
The soul to feel the flesh, and the flesh to feel the chain.
'Yet I would lose no sting, would wish no torture less;
The more that anguish racks, the earlier it will bless;
And robed in fires of hell, or bright with heavenly shine,
If it but herald death, the vision is divine!'
She ceased to speak, and we, unanswering, turned to go—
We had no further power to work the captive woe:
Her cheek, her gleaming eye, declared that man had given
A sentence, unapproved, and overruled by Heaven.
poem by Emily Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Prisoner, The - (A Fragment)
In the dungeon-crypts, idly did I stray,
Reckless of the lives wasting there away;
"Draw the ponderous bars! open, Warder stern!"
He dared not say me nay - the hinges harshly turn.
"Our guests are darkly lodged," I whisper'd, gazing through
The vault, whose grated eye showed heaven more grey than blue;
(This was when glad spring laughed in awaking pride;)
"Aye, darkly lodged enough!" returned my sullen guide.
Then, God forgive my youth; forgive my careless tongue;
I scoffed, as the chill chains on the damp flag-stones rung:
"Confined in triple walls, art thou so much to fear,
That we must bind thee down and clench thy fetters here?"
The captive raised her face, it was as soft and mild
As sculpted marble saint, or slumbering unwean'd child;
It was so soft and mild, it was so sweet and fair,
Pain could not trace a line, nor grief a shadow there!
The captive raised her hand and pressed it to her brow;
"I have been struck," she said, "and I am suffering now;
Yet these are little worth, your bolts and irons strong,
And, were they forged in steel, they could not hold me long."
Hoarse laughed the jailor grim: "Shall I be won to hear;
Dost think, fond, dreaming wretch, that I shall grant thy prayer?
Or, better still, wilt melt my master's heart with groans?
Ah! sooner might the sun thaw down these granite stones.
"My master's voice is low, his aspect bland and kind,
But hard as hardest flint, the soul that lurks behind;
And I am rough and rude, yet not more rough to see
Than is the hidden ghost that has its home in me."
About her lips there played a smile of almost scorn,
"My friend," she gently said, "you have not heard me mourn;
When you my kindred's lives, my lost life, can restore,
Then I may weep and sue, - but never, friend, before!
Still, let my tyrants know, I am not doom'd to wear
Year after year in gloom, and desolate despair;
A messenger of Hope, comes every night to me,
And offers for short life, eternal liberty.
He comes with western winds, with evening's wandering airs,
With that clear dusk of heaven that brings the thickest stars.
Winds take a pensive tone, and stars a tender fire,
And visions rise, and change, that kill me with desire.
Desire for nothing known in my maturer years,
When Joy grew mad with awe, at counting future tears.
When, if my spirit's sky was full of flashes warm,
I knew not whence they came, from sun, or thunder storm.
But, first, a hush of peace - a soundless calm descends;
The struggle of distress, and fierce impatience ends.
Mute music soothes my breast, unuttered harmony,
That I could never dream, till Earth was lost to me.
Then dawns the Invisible; the Unseen its truth reveals;
My outward sense is gone, my inward essence feels:
Its wings are almost free - its home, its harbour found,
Measuring the gulph, it stoops, and dares the final bound.
Oh, dreadful is the check - intense the agony -
When the ear begins to hear, and the eye begins to see;
When the pulse begins to throb, the brain to think again,
The soul to feel the flesh, and the flesh to feel the chain.
Yet I would lose no sting, would wish no torture less;
The more that anguish racks, the earlier it will bless;
And robed in fires of hell, or bright with heavenly shine,
If it but herald death, the vision is divine!"
She ceased to speak, and we, unanswering, turned to go -
We had no further power to work the captive woe:
Her cheek, her gleaming eye, declared that man had given
A sentence, unapproved, and overruled by Heaven.
poem by Emily Jane Brontë
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Prisoner. A Fragment
In the dungeon crypts idly did I stray,
Reckless of the lives wasting there away;
'Draw the ponderous bars; open, Warder stern!'
He dare not say me nay–the hinges harshly turn.
'Our guests are darkly lodged,' I whispered, gazing through
The vault whose grated eye showed heaven more grey than blue.
(This was when glad spring laughed in awaking pride.)
'Aye, darkly lodged enough!' returned my sullen guide.
Then, God forgive my youth, forgive my careless tongue!
I scoffed, as the chill chains on the damp flagstones rung;
'Confined in triple walls, art thou so much to fear,
That we must bind thee down and clench thy fetters here?'
The captive raised her face; it was as soft and mild
As sculptured marble saint or slumbering, unweaned child;
It was so soft and mild, it was so sweet and fair,
Pain could not trace a line nor grief a shadow there!
The captive raised her hand and pressed it to her brow:
'I have been struck,' she said, 'and I am suffering now;
Yet these are little worth, your bolts and irons strong;
And were they forged in steel they could not hold me long.'
Hoarse laughed the jailor grim: 'Shall I be won to hear;
Dost think, fond dreaming wretch, that I shall grant thy prayer?
Or, better still, wilt melt my master's heart with groans?
Ah, sooner might the sun thaw down these granite stones!
'My master's voice is low, his aspect bland and kind,
But hard as hardest flint the soul that lurks behind;
And I am rough and rude, yet not more rough to see
Than is the hidden ghost which has its home in me!
About her lips there played a smile of almost scorn:
'My friend,' she gently said, 'you have not heard me mourn;
When you my parents' lives-my lost life, can restore,
Then may I weep and sue-but never, Friend, before!'
'Yet, tell them, Julian, all, I am not doomed to wear
Year after year in gloom and desolate despair;
A messenger of Hope comes every night to me,
And offers, for short life, eternal liberty.
He comes with western winds, with evening's wandering airs,
With that clear dusk of heaven that brings the thickest stars;
Winds take a pensive tone, and stars a tender fire, And visions rise and change which kill me with desire–
'Desire for nothing known in my maturer years
When joy grew mad with awe at counting future tears;
When, if my spirit's sky was full of flashes warm,
I knew not whence they came, from sun or thunderstorm;
'But first a hush of peace, a soundless calm descends;
The struggle of distress and fierce impatience ends;
Mute music soothes my breast-unuttered harmony
That I could never dream till earth was lost to me.
'Then dawns the Invisible, the Unseen its truth reveals;
My outward sense is gone, my inward essence feels
Its wings are almost free, its home, its harbour found;
Measuring the gulf it stoops and dares the final bound!
'Oh, dreadful is the check-intense the agony
When the ear begins to hear and the eye begins to see;
When the pulse begins to throb, the brain to think again,
The soul to feel the flesh and the flesh to feel the chain!
'Yet I would lose no sting, would wish no torture less; go
The more that anguish racks the earlier it will bless;
And robed in fires of Hell, or bright with heavenly shine,
If it but herald Death, the vision is divine.'
She ceased to speak, and we, unanswering turned to go–
We had no further power to work the captive woe;
Her cheek, he gleaming eye, declared that man had given
A sentence unapproved, and overruled by Heaven.
(October 9, 1845)
This poem is part of a larger Gondal poem which Emily revised for publication in 1846. She cut lines 1-12, 45-64, and 93-152. She added the concluding stanza, which starts with 'She ceased to speak...' The original title of the poem is 'Julian M. and A.G. Rochelle,' the names of two lovers in the Gondal saga.
poem by Emily Jane Brontë
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I Did Not Die (Butterfly Vision)
I drempt I was a butterfly
In a hurricane;
The world was the storm,
I just wanted to fly...
The wind controlled
But could not contain me
For I would not quit -
Trees and mountains moved
All was tattered and torn
From the earth's core
To the surface of the moon...
Still I would not quit,
My desire to live, too deep
My heart too sure, too strong...
For years the savage storm raged
On and on...
My wings bent and nearly broken
The suns light gave out, ceasing to shine
Black smoke hid the sky
In that tremulous passing time...
And yet, I refused to die.
Houses crashed
Hearts broke
Indeed, life itself did churn and choke,
All so very lost,
For those who count such cost...
But, not I; No,
I refused to die!
My spirit too strong
My dear dream drempt for so long,
I would not stop
My hope I could not drop
I flew steadily on,
My goal the Western horizon
Where the sun sets bright
And the winds find calm
In the night... and now,
The storm has gone
The dusk so clear
The stars of vision draw ever near
Beckon hope's true dawn,
Sunrise is assured.
Dreams finally realized,
I kept my dream
I would not let it go,
I did not die.
Now, forever freely
May I fly...
I am the air
The wind
The sky!
On my wings shines the sun,
Says it to me: ' Welcome home
Little butterfly, well done.
You never sold your dream, so now
Freedom and lasting love
Are forever yours,
Never again
Will your wings be broken or torn,
By any storm. '
From thus dream
I did there awake,
With a feeling light as air
That nothing has been able to shake.
Now when things around get crazy
And my mind, like my heart
Feels so hurt, its purpose rather hazy,
I close my eyes... and let my soul go
To that far, inner place, where once again,
I am the butterfly
Whom shall never ever die.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When the Bush Begins to Speak
They know us not in England yet, their pens are overbold;
We're seen in fancy pictures that are fifty years too old.
They think we are a careless race - a childish race, and weak;
They'll know us yet in England, when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
'The leaders that will be', the men of southern destiny,
Are not all found in cities that are builded by the sea;
They learn to love Australia by many a western creek,
They'll know them yet in England, when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
All ready for the struggle, and waiting for the change,
The army of our future lies encamped beyond the range;
Australia, for her patriots, will not have far to seek;
They'll know her yet in England when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
We'll find the peace and comfort that our fathers could not find,
Or some shall strike the good old blow that leaves a mark behind.
We'll find the Truth and Liberty our fathers came to seek,
Or let them know in England when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Chantry Of The Cherubim
O CHANTRY of the Cherubim,
Down-looking on the stream!
Beneath thy boughs the day grows dim;
Through windows comes the gleam;
A thousand raptures fill the air,
Beyond delight, beyond despair.
I will not name one flower that clings
In cluster at my feet!
I will not hail one bird that sings
Its anthem loud or sweet!
This is the floor of Heaven, and these
The angels that God’s ear do please.
I walk as one unclothed of flesh,
I wash my spirit clean;
I see old miracles afresh,
And wonders yet unseen.
I will not leave Thee till Thou give
Some word whereby my soul may live!
I listened—but no voice I heard;
I looked—no likeness saw;
Slowly the joy of flower and bird
Did like a tide withdraw;
And in the heaven a silent star
Smiled on me, infinitely far.
I buoyed me on the wings of dream,
Above the world of sense;
I set my thought to sound the scheme,
And fathom the Immense;
I tuned my spirit as a lute
To catch wind-music wandering mute.
Yet came there never voice nor sign;
But through my being stole
Sense of a Universe divine,
And knowledge of a soul
Perfected in the joy of things,
The star, the flower, the bird that sings.
Nor I am more, nor less, than these;
All are one brotherhood;
I and all creatures, plants, and trees,
The living limbs of God;
And in an hour, as this, divine,
I feel the vast pulse throb in mine.
poem by Francis William Bourdillon
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Midnight
1.
The night is clear and still. The moon rides high.
The green leaves whisper where the soft winds blow.
Above, the stars shine in a sapphire sky —
The city sleeps below.
2.
Sleeps? Nay. The million- fibred heart is wrung
With wild desire and ceaseless pain and fear.
Could its dumb anguish find a fitting tongue,
The very dead would hear.
3.
Under these quiet roofs, this silvery haze,
How many a captive spirit wakes and weeps!
How many a sorrow, hid from human gaze,
Each shadowy dwelling keeps!
4.
The struggling men, the lonely maids unwed,
The desolate mothers and the martyred wives,
The starving little ones that cry for bread,
Still live their suffering lives.
5.
Though moon shines fair and winds are breathing low —
Though the great dream-like city lies in light —
The smoke of all that seething human woe
Darkens my mind to- night.
6.
Brothers, for whom the world can find no place —
Brothers and sisters, born to want and wrong —
Born weak and maimed, to run a hopeless race
Against the hale and strong —
7.
How can I rest while they are racked with pain?
While they toil on with toil that cannot cease?
While hungry children wail for bread in vain,
How can I sleep in peace?
8.
Ah, hapless fate! To hope, to fail, to spend,
From chilling dawn till midnight shadows fall;
Perchance to gain no haven at the end —
No new world — after all!
9.
When poor, brief hopes and joys have passed away —
When the long toil is done and pain is past —
To reach the limit of life's little day,
And find naught else, at last
10.
When strength is spent, when soul and spirit sink —
With helpless hands outstretched and nerveless brain —
To stand alone upon that dreadful brink
And cry for light in vain!
11.
Poor mortal wanderers in immortal realms,
For whom no staff avails, no beacons shine!
My kindred soul their burden overwhelms —
My brothers' woes are mine.
12.
For me the night has come — the day is done —
A wall of darkness hides both sea and shore;
My little lamps have failed me, one by one —
I grope and crawl no more.
13.
Where am I? — oh, where am I? I can feel —
To feel my pain — but neither hear nor see;
My heart is faint, my brain begins to reel —
O God, speak Thou to me!
14.
Help me! Or, in Thy pity, take me hence
While feeling heart and thinking brain are whole —
Or give me any rag of carnal sense
To wrap my naked soul.
15.
Some common cloak of vulgar hopes and fears,
Some earth- spun veil, that shall be warm and stout
To keep this infinite Silence from mine ears —
To shut this Darkness out!
16.
The mocking moon shines on. The flowers are sweet.
The night is still. The winds are breathing balm.
The silver city clustered at my feet
Seems bathed in light and calm.
17.
But I? — I choke in this grief- laden air.
I turn and weep — I close my window now.
One voice breaks forth from my profound despair —
Beloved, where art thou?
18.
She sleeps. She stirs. She hears the lightest fall
Of my hushed footsteps on her chamber floor.
Her spirit answers to my spirit's call,
And I take heart once more.
19.
She draws me down upon that faithful breast;
I clasp her close — those sweetest lips I kiss —
And soul and body, in her arms at rest,
Swim in deep seas of bliss.
20.
She makes me strong with stronger Fate to cope —
Fresh fire to mine her beating pulses give.
O my true mate, in thee alone I hope!
In thee alone I live!
21.
O love, till blood is cold and brain is dust,
I can fight on — if thou wilt fight with me —
If I can shelter in thy truth and trust,
And bear life's woes with thee!
poem by Ada Cambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Whispering Winds Of Hope...
The Whispering Winds of Hope
The Soothing Laughter of Rain
The Gentle Touch of The Sun
Can Begin to Help Heal Pain
The Bright Smiles of The Stars
The Brave Walk of The Moon
Even Muted Songs of The Night
Can Help To Hush The Gloom
So Listen To Your Heart
See With Your Mind’s Eye
Feel With Understanding
Even If You Have To Cry
Life Is Oh So Beautiful
Each Second A Precious Thing
Know Even In The Worst Sorrow
A Small Part Of You Can Dream
As The Wind Whispers of Hope
Believe Laughter of The Rain
Tomorrow Is Always A Brand New Day
Rebirth To Rejoice Again
On The Whispering Winds of Hope
And Soothing Laughter of The Rain
You Will Not Sleep Forevermore
GOD Held Me … and Explained
… The Bright Smiles of The Stars
The Brave Walk of The Moon
Are For Signs and Times … Our Visuals
Of What HE Can Do Soon
… Scent of Roses From My Window
Feel of Silk Upon My Bed
A Teardropp On My Cheek
And Brave Moonlight On My Head
The Whispering Winds of Hope
The Soothing Laughter of The Rain
When The Gentle Touch of The Son
Begins To Heal My Pain
Written & ©: 6/28/10
By: The MoonBee
poem by MoonBee Canady
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rosa Flammea
Beautiful demon, O veil those eyes of fire,
Cover your breasts that are whiter than milk, and ruddy
With dewy buds of the magical rose, your body,
Veil your lips from the shining of my desire!
As a rose growing up from hell you waver before me,
Shaking an odorous breath that is fire within;
The Lord Christ may not pardon me this sweet sin,
But the scent of the rose that is rooted in hell steals o'er me.
O Lord Christ, I am lost, I am lost, I am lost!
Her eyes are as stars in a pool and their spell is on me;
She lifts her unsearchable lids, chill fire is upon me,
It shudders through every vein, and my brain is tossed
As the leaves of a tree when the wind coils under and over;
She smiles, and I hear the heart beat in my side;
She lifts her hands, and I swirl in a clutching tide;
But shall my soul not burn in flame if I love her?
She shall veil those eyes, those lips, ah! that breast.
Demon seeking my soul, I do adjure thee,
In the name of him for whose tempted sake I endure thee,
Trouble my sight no more: lost soul, be at rest!
She smiles, and the air grows into a mist of spices,
Frankincense, cinnamon, labdanum, and myrrh
Rise in sweet smoke about the feet of her
Before whom the sweets of the world are as sacrifices.
Cinnamon, frankincense, labdanum, and myrrh
Smoke in the air, the fume of them closes round me;
Help, ere the waves of the flood of odours have drowned me,
Help, ere it be too late! There has no help come,
And I feel that the rose of the pit begins to blossom
Into the likeness of a lost soul on fire,
And the soul that was mine is emptied of all but desire
Of the rose of her lips and the rose of her bosom.
Ah! she smiles the great smile, the immortal shame:
Her mouth to my mouth, though hell be the price hereafter!...
I hear in the whirling winds her windy laughter,
And my soul for this shall whirl in the winds of flame.
poem by Arthur Symons
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The Need To Be Free
In my dream I wander a moonlit night,
All across my heaven the stars shine bright.
Each star a shining stepping stone,
Lighting a path that leads me home...
Gone are the days when men were the same,
For now we compete and life is just a game.
Each night I weep into the darkness,
Every tear I weep just makes me feel less...
My dream is a dream that has no end,
On golden angel wings this life we can mend.
The pain we carry is just like a disease,
It keeps us in turmoil, prevents us from ease...
There are days for us with no more hurt,
Where we no longer struggle in the dirt.
For each of us possess the true life key,
The desire of life and the need to be free...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stars In The Night
Look, look at the stars
How brilliant they are
How can they be shining now?
When hope is so far
Look, look how they shine
These cruelest of stars
What fire inspires them,
What faith is it fires them?
Darkness grows,the world turns cold
And still, there glows the light
Heaven knows what hope they hold tonight
Look,look how they shine
These stars in the night
The darker the night becomes
The brighter their light becomes
Chill winds wail
The tempest blues
and clouds asail the sky
Through the veil,
The stars refuse to die
In this world of darkest night
Where hope is hurled away
There they are
And still, there's light
Oh,so far, but will they
There they lift our hearts
As we lift our eyes
Are we fools to see
The harmony that fills the sky
Look,there's the light
Stars In The Night
The Stars In The Night
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New Earth
Ghost whispers in the canyon
Granite walls like times art
Voice of eternal angels
Winds, the metaphor of soul
Drink by the river of life
Music comes out of the solitude
Out of the places of spirit
Blood as mystical as time
Feel the ragged stones
Feel the dawn like birth
Circles of children’s angels
Turquoise like peyote of blue joy
Visions where jewels pray
Cactus and red sunsets
Rest in clay valleys of stars
Scorpions in ancient caves
Rattlesnakes in the Apache sun
Ghost towns
Old wagon wheels in dreams
Back into star fields
Back into freedom
The future like a dream catcher
Forward when the tribes meet
Dream and walk north
Eagles fly free
Hear the buffalo
Hear the song of the stars
Let your bones feel life
Rest in the new earth
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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January
Start wooing with all the clocks chiming,
Slip the slippery seconds around earth,
And dance with the skies in celebration,
All from pulse to breathe, and to new birth.
January, the first light of another year,
And the glory of that maiden orbit,
Wake silently from golden dust to appear,
A long time coming; we had known it.
After taking down the decorations,
Give chances for the changing course,
To breathe New Year’s resolutions,
And as it grows, given hope a chance.
A brimful of dreams watches all doors opens,
Letting hope in and visions lets out more,
But so long as January defines what begins,
It has the key to mingle with pleasure.
January stands steep in splendor passing by,
Spectra of the seasons towering head,
And hung the gem of lights to guide the sky,
With stars bright and glittering away they fled.
And float midway in opportunity abound,
To such deep measure on thrushes of rapture,
Upon fair winds January is known in all the land,
From drifts to snowy clefts and sunny sphere.
The wakening realm will come back again,
And life begins new through cold and death,
January is the beginning of the end,
Round the islands it goes in triumphant rebirth.
poem by Gerry Legister
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Farewell To Miss E. B.
(Written in her sixteenth year.)
Farewell, and whenever calm solitude's hour,
Shall silently spread its broad wings o'er your bower,
Oh! then gaze on yon planet, yon watch-fire divine,
And believe that my soul is there mingling with thine.
When the dark brow of evening is beaming with stars,
And yon crest of light clouds is the turban she wears,
When she walks forth in grandeur, the queen of the night,
Oh! then think that my spirit looks on with delight.
O'er the ocean of life our frail vessels are bounding,
And danger and death our dark pathway surrounding;
Destruction's bright meteors are dancing before,
And behind us the winds of adversity roar.
Oh! then come, let us light friendship's lamp on the wave,
If we're lost, it will shed its pure light o'er the grave,
Or 't will guide to the haven of Heaven at last,
And beam on when the voice of the trumpet hath past.
poem by Lucretia Maria Davidson
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Take Me Away
My eyes were burnin'
Lookin' back on all of my memories
And my mind was dreamin like it does
She wore white and in the night we made love
Together, i remember, together as one
It came so easy
But now it seems so long ago
My chance is fading into night
I can't change or rearrange what i've done
Together, i remember, together as one
Together, i remember, together as one
Yesterday, is far away, so take me out to sea
Far away, i've been what never will be
Check me in, to lose or win, i'm livin' memories
The drift begins, the dream of it sets me free
We lived each moment as if the days would never end
It seemed our lives had just begun
I can't stay, i'll make my way on the run
Together, i remember, together as one
Together, i remember, together as one
Yesterday, is far away, so take me out to sea
Far away, i've been what never will be
Check me in, to lose or win, i'm livin' memories
The drift begins, the dream of it sets me free
Yesterday, is far away, so take me out to sea
Far away, i've been what never will be
Check me in, lose or win, livin' memories
The drift begins, the dream of it sets me free
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You And The Night
The air is electrified
The moon shines for me
Flowers now bloom
The night becomes cool
Life becomes overjoyed
My heart beats like a drum
My pulse races like a dragster
My skin begins to moisten
Heat ignites the fire
My passion burns
My eyes become cloudy
My vision blurs
My legs becomes unsteady
My feet will not keep me up any more
You are so far away
I want to draw you near
Longing for your embrace
Feeling the heat from your body
I break out in a cold sweat
My desire is to have you
You I obsess about
Can’t get you out of my mind
You occupy my every thought
I need you more than life
You are my heart
You are my soul
You are the light
You are my universe
You are everything
I love your fragrance
I love the way you speak
I love the cloths you wear
I love the shoes on your feet
I love the styling of your hair
All I can see is you
You are my world
Without you there is nothing
There is no me without you
You are my destiny
I want to live inside your world
I want to see all that you see
I want to hear all that you hear
I want to know all that you know
I want to feel all that you feel
I can’t sleep any more
I can’t eat any more
I won’t live if you are not alive
I want no other but you
You are my true love
On turbulent seas you are the calm
Your love will keep me afloat
You are the shining beacon in my night
Your love brings me to safer shores
With you I feel a thousand feet tall
I want to swim in your ocean
I want to dive into your seas
I want to drown in your love
I want to be swallowed whole by you
I want you to consume me entirely
I want to breathe only your air
I want to be suffocate by your love
I want to draw my last breath knowing your love
If my world ends, I want you by my side
And when I pass my last vision will be of you
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Rhythms Of Life
Everything has a rhythm
that puts music in the air.
The morning with its bird calls
awakening everywhere.
The yawns of the waking
as they greet a new day.
The afternoon rhythm
is smiling faces to be seen,
especially while the sun
is high up in the sky
mingled with laughter
from children as they play.
The evening rhythm
is of the close of day
as the voices of the night
begin to appear.
A gentle breeze cools the air
to end another day of rhythms
before they all begin again.
The seasons have their rhythms too;
the spring with its new life
from the earth begins to grow.
The summer with its warmth
and bright colours, begin to show.
The autumn as the year
begins to die away.
The falling of the leaves nurture the soil.
Then the winter’s rhythm comes in play
with the cold winds that blow
and the bringing of the snow.
It is the rhythm of the closing of the year
and so the rhythms of life
go on everyday.
19 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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In Death Row
They live in 8x4 cell
One step next to hell
A closet size cage
To hold in the rage
With no human contact
How does one act?
Most are not innocent
Most won't repent
Now they hardly see the sun
No place left to hit and run
They grew up on the wrong side
Always ready to fight and hide
All face maximum degradation
On the road to lethal injection
Creating ways
Of counting days
There are no more rules to break
What's to dream when you won't wake?
How does it feel?
To order your last meal
Does it seem odd?
That now they turn to God
To free them from their sins
It's here where irony begins
Plenty of tattoos
Yet no clues
How to exercise the brain
And get off that runaway train
Muscles abound
Now all locked down
Wearing hand cuffs a way of life
Yet skilled in making a homemade knife
Lost all sense of wonder
Waiting to hear the thunder
They hardly see the sun
One hour with no place to run
Burying what is left to feel
In a corner surrounded by steel
The march of that last mile
Doesn't take but a short while
With each step a life flashes by
As chains jangle one last cry
poem by Alfred Ramos
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Woman of God
Deep in the crevices we touch life
Down and down into a sea of gold
Woven in stars from grand eons
We are a dream from the throne
Music plays from mystic trees
Fruit bright with living light
Saturn shines like a lovers caress
Rivers sigh with whispering night
She is a well from a deep river
Streams of peace flow from above
Thirsty hearts drink pure water
Lilies of the field tenderly love
Visions blend with daily eternity
Joy radiates with a pure blue glow
Unity the treasure of redemption
Past the past we struggle and grow
Touch the very hem of beauty
She brings the kiss of temporal time
Price above rubies, virtue and warmth
Light a fire with the torch of moonlight
Groaning deep in agony of soul
Temporary love becomes worldly lust
A kingdom not made by hands of man
Do you reach for love past this dust?
This mortal coil is filled with despair
Thorns and thistle on a bed of time
Hope must be in the permanent realm
Dying flowers lose their summer light
I seek essence in your sky above
Paths born in the eternal spring
Touch me with life that never ends
Let me hear the bright angels sing
A Woman of God shines for evermore
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Mindanao: A Portrait and the Perspective
self is the agent of peace, the covenant of harmony
welcome the elements of respect, understanding
and hope where by the birth of the culture of peace
will always reign in our hearts
Mindanao the back door, the land of promise and
the Jews past dream of exodus, lives now the fear
of survival, the struggle that hamper its progress
and development
the Mindanao inhabitant, lives fear at the border in
everyone's hearts, fight survival face to face with a
turmoil of winning our dignity, never the fighting
spirit we possess in our soul have leave and capture
the sting and the pangs of death, for we are the
people who have always seen the future
the Mindanaon accept what fate brings, it's the faith
that shields us to joint and unite what ever adversities
may come, the strength and the pendulum of fight
leads every force to find new style and solution of
winning our struggle, for we never lost hope but
instead with open mind to pursue favorable ways to
attain of what is love
day to days we dream of, what is the picture of
tomorrow, and year after years the citizen have attain
the covenant of peace amongst people who believed
that there is still future await in the end of the horizon
a raise Mindanao, the final day has yet to come the
dawning light, had just welcome the morning bless,
and the star above wonder the universe exclaim
that, what ever the heart believes the soul can achieve
live and stand Mindanao forwards to your call, for we
are now to close to reach what is the day of the
future, the moment of truth for our generation to come
and the yesterdays aspiration, for we can't fly to the
moon neither can defy death without a cause
Mindanao the land of promise.....
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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