Extreme Unction
Upon the eyes, the lips, the feet,
On all the passages of sense,
The atoning oil is spread with sweet
Renewal of lost innocence.
The feet, that lately ran so fast
To meet desire, are soothly sealed;
The eyes, that were so often cast
On vanity, are touched and healed.
From troublous sights and sounds set free;
In such a twilight hour of breath,
Shall one retrace his life, or see,
Through shadows, the true face of death?
Vials of mercy! Sacring oils!
I know not where nor when I come,
Nor through what wanderings and toils,
To crave of you Viaticum.
Yet, when the walls of flesh grow weak,
In such an hour, it well may be,
Through mist and darkness, light will break,
And each anointed sense will see.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Impentitent Ultima
Before my light goes out for ever if God should give me a choice of
graces,
I would not reck of length of days, nor crave for things to be;
But cry: 'One day of the great lost days, one face of all the faces,
Grant me to see and touch once more and nothing more to see.
'For, Lord, I was free of all Thy flowers, but I chose the world's
sad roses,
And that is why my feet are torn and mine eyes are blind with sweat,
But at Thy terrible judgment-seat, when this my tired life closes,
I am ready to reap whereof I sowed, and pay my righteous debt.
'But once before the sand is run and the silver thread is broken,
Give me a grace and cast aside the veil of dolorous years,
Grant me one hour of all mine hours, and let me see for a token
Her pure and pitiful eyes shine out, and bathe her feet with tears.'
Her pitiful hands should calm, and her hair stream down and blind me,
Out of the sight of night, and out of the reach of fear,
And her eyes should be my light whilst the sun went out behind me,
And the viols in her voice be the last sound in mine ear.
Before the ruining waters fall and my life be carried under,
And Thine anger cleave me through as a child cuts down a flower,
I will praise Thee, Lord in Hell, while my limbs are racked asunder,
For the last sad sight of her face and the little grace of an hour.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Song VIII: While Ye Deemed Him A-Sleeping
Love is enough: while ye deemed him a-sleeping,
There were signs of his coming and sounds of his feet;
His touch it was that would bring you to weeping,
When the summer was deepest and music most sweet:
In his footsteps ye followed the day to its dying,
Ye went forth by his gown-skirts the morning to meet:
In his place on the beaten-down orchard-grass lying,
Of the sweet ways ye pondered left for life's trying.
Ah, what was all dreaming of pleasure anear you,
To the time when his eyes on your wistful eyes turned,
And ye saw his lips move, and his head bent to hear you,
As new-born and glad to his kindness ye yearned?
Ah, what was all dreaming of anguish and sorrow,
To the time when the world in his torment was burned,
And no god your heart from its prison might borrow,
And no rest was left, no today, no tomorrow?
All wonder of pleasure, all doubt of desire,
All blindness, are ended, and no more ye feel
If your feet treat his flowers or the flames of his fire,
If your breast meet his balms or the edge of his steel.
Change is come, and past over, no more strife, no more learning:
Now your lips and your forehead are sealed with his seal,
Look backward and smile at the thorns and the burning.
--Sweet rest, O my soul, and no fear of returning!
poem by William Morris
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Immortal Sails
Now, in a breath, we’ll burst those gates of gold,
And ransack heaven before our moment fails.
Now, in a breath, before we, too, grow old,
We’ll mount and sing and spread immortal sails.
It is not time that makes eternity.
Love and an hour may quite out-span the years,
And give us more to hear and more to see
Than life can wash away with all its tears.
Dear, when we part, at last, that sunset sky
Shall not be touched with deeper hues than this;
But we shall ride the lightning ere we die
And seize our brief infinitude of bliss,
With time to spare for all that heaven can tell,
While eyes meet eyes, and look their last farewell.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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Etude Realiste
A Baby's feet, like sea-shells pink,
Might tempt, should heaven see meet,
An angel's lips to kiss, we think,
A baby's feet.
Like rose-hued sea-flowers toward the heat
They stretch and spread and wink
Their ten soft buds that part and meet.
No flower-bells that expand and shrink
Gleam half so heavenly sweet
As shine on life's untrodden brink
A baby's feet.
II.
A baby's hands, like rosebuds furled
Whence yet no leaf expands,
Ope if you touch, though close upcurled,
A baby's hands.
Then, fast as warriors grip their brands
When battle's bolt is hurled,
They close, clenched hard like tightening bands.
No rosebuds yet by dawn impearled
Match, even in loveliest lands,
The sweetest flowers in all the world -
A baby's hands.
III.
A baby's eyes, ere speech begin,
Ere lips learn words or sighs,
Bless all things bright enough to win
A baby's eyes.
Love, while the sweet thing laughs and lies,
And sleep flows out and in,
Sees perfect in them Paradise.
Their glance might cast out pain and sin,
Their speech make dumb the wise,
By mute glad godhead felt within
A baby's eyes.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Azrael
Long ago - in another life
I was innocent - just a child
Transformed my brain into an evil thing
Now Im a creature of the night
Im a shadow in the darkness and Im watching you
Though you cant see me I am always at your side
When Im on your heels - you see how it feels
To sense the curse of azrael
In the night - Ill come to you
Your life belongs to me
I wake you up - you stare at me
Im the last thing that youll ever see
The panic in your eyes that I have hungered for
Shows me you have realised the truth
Death comes to the dying - and before your eyes grow dim
The last word on your lips is azrael
I will destroy your dreams
I will destroy your mind
I will destroy your soul
And then Ill take your life
Sometimes I remember the life I had before
I asked myself was it just a dream
When I close my eyes I see an ocean flowing blood
And in my sleep I hear those fearful screams
So lock your doors - remove the keys
I doesnt matter if you leave or stay
Wherever you go Ill be expecting you
Your resistance is the spice that I crave
When you imagine theres a movement in the shadows
The light around you is weakens more and more
Prepare for the arrival of the uninvited guest
The angel of the darkness - azrael
I will destroy your dreams
I will destroy your mind
I will destroy your soul
And then Ill take your life, ...
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Woe
The persistent of death invited me many times,
it was like sweet invisible mist, suggesting
passages and fake structures of beautiful
sights. I becoming so vain, giving life to
death, never knew where it begin, A wreck
of inevitable escape, the overwhelming
meadows to cross in pass, the shroud ready
spread, on fields of stone and cultivated land.
To attain through wind and waves, to the higher
of deep desires in my heart, of the vast sea of
death coming through, maybe in a hum coming
slowly beneath the walls in through my kitchen
sink or coming in forms of light. Not even the
cold howling of wolves can measure the
shivers to my soul. A slow call whisper while
i sleep, and waking my brain from a restful
state, yes is the evil in the air calling, invading
my house, i declaring and pushing him out,
I could not think of beautiful things,
like intoxicating sense of blossom peach or
fragments of delight snowdrift, like snow cones
of cherries and vanilla flavor. All these false life's,
coming in all directions, and resurrections roaming
in my door. I keep crossing meadows of stones,
year by year, and growing old, wishing to find a
wide estuaries that takes me to immense rivers,
for i swim across, little by little finding new land,
waiting for my drifted soul, reaching for healing
of my deadly flesh, not really dead, but wanting to be,
because flesh is not really alive but dead from sin,
by the darkness that follows every step
of the way, trying to murder the good spirit in me.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Early Works - The Twilight Hour
When twilight is here
you shall see
but not hear a sound
the world will be peaceful
the seas will be calm
the flowers will sway gracefully
in the breeze as night does come.
The twilight hour
is the hour before darkness does prevail
when little children into dreamland sail
when the sunset leaves the sky grey and blue
then the twilight hour comes into view.
The big city sounds die peacefully
when twilight calls gracefully
as small creatures rest their heads in sleep
as all the world in tranquil stillness does seep
for the twilight hour is tranquil
as it gracefully does call.
Date unknown
poem by David Harris
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No Idea
What was planned for me what is my purpose after all
I have no idea
I'm a deer with no eyes
What dose the future have install
I have some many question for myself
One day i will have the answers
Who am i trying to fool myself or even you i have no answers
Tired so tired
Is it true idle hands are the devils playground
For i have been idling way to long
Or am i just numb
Where do i see myself in five years staring at these same four walls
Or can i be free from the thoughts that consume my day
Do i dare venture out
Or stay here where it all make sense only to me
Yesterday i went out the front door
But i returned straight away through the back
The grass felt so soft under my feet
I sleep most of the day i prefer the night
Do you ever just sit an listen to the night
But believe it or not i'm scared of the dark
I plan to leave my fortress for one hour next week
Or maybe the week after that
Am i crazy or just content
The world moves so fast can i run fast enough
So what was planned for me what is my destiny
To Be A Poet And Live In The Dark
it is easy for me to understand
why you live in the darkness of your poetry
time does not live there. There is no morning light
to mark the day, and darkness thrives
like a tunnel, without any hint that at the end
there is light.
you live there. You live there for a long, long time
and you shed off your eyes, and hands,
and eventually you lose the sense of a face.
you like it there. It is all emotions. Strong
as a river inside the cave. You may have
lost your eyes, but you have seen more.
You may have lost your hands, but you
are feeling and touching more.
It is the darkness that has provided
you the sense of eternity. There is no
time here. It is dead. And There is no
sense of remembering what had been
there before.
You flow in this darkness like a river
inside a tunnel. The only sound you hear
is the going.The journey with you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Desire
I desire everything you are,
the sun, the moon, you're my shining star.
I smell the perfume of your hair
and my desire is beyond compare.
I feel your lips when they touch mine.
To me they are like sippimg wine.
I drink you in. I feel your breath.
I'll desire you until my death.
I desire everything you are.
My time with you has healed a scar
upon my heart that came to me
before I knew what love could be.
I touch the smoothness of your skin
and my desire creates this mood I'm in.
My passion becomes a burning flame
and overtakes all sense of shame.
For me there is no shame, my love.
There's only sweet desire.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Since I Have Felt The Sense Of Death
Since I have felt the sense of death,
Since I have borne its dread, its fear—
Oh, how my life has grown more dear
Since I have felt the sense of death!
Sorrows are good, and cares are small,
Since I have known the loss of all.
Since I have felt the sense of death,
And death forever at my side—
Oh, how the world has opened wide
Since I have felt the sense of death!
My hours are jewels that I spend,
For I have seen the hours end.
Since I have felt the sense of death,
Since I have looked on that black night—
My inmost brain is fierce with light
Since I have felt the sense of death.
O dark, that made my eyes to see!
O death, that gave my life to me!
poem by Helen Hoyt
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Epithalamium : Another Version
Night, with all thine eyes look down!
Darkness shed its holiest dew!
When ever smiled the inconstant moon
On a pair so true?
Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.
BOYS:
O joy! O fear! what may be done
In the absence of the sun?
Come along!
The golden gates of sleep unbar!
When strength and beauty meet together,
Kindles their image like a star
In a sea of glassy weather.
Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.
GIRLS:
O joy! O fear! what may be done
In the absence of the sun?
Come along!
Fairies! sprites! and angels, keep her!
Holiest powers, permit no wrong!
And return, to wake the sleeper,
Dawn, ere it be long.
Hence, swift hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, coy hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.
BOYS AND GIRLS:
O joy! O fear! what will be done
In the absence of the sun?
Come along!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Epithalamium
Another Version Of 'A Bridal Song'.
Night, with all thine eyes look down!
Darkness shed its holiest dew!
When ever smiled the inconstant moon
On a pair so true?
Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.
BOYS:
O joy! O fear! what may be done
In the absence of the sun?
Come along!
The golden gates of sleep unbar!
When strength and beauty meet together,
Kindles their image like a star
In a sea of glassy weather.
Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.
GIRLS:
O joy! O fear! what may be done
In the absence of the sun?
Come along!
Fairies! sprites! and angels, keep her!
Holiest powers, permit no wrong!
And return, to wake the sleeper,
Dawn, ere it be long.
Hence, swift hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, coy hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.
BOYS AND GIRLS:
O joy! O fear! what will be done
In the absence of the sun?
Come along!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Learn Ramdas 2
Learn Ramdas,
Who else can Fill your life with
happiness than yourself!
Learn Ramdas,
The mind that sees beauty everywhere in nature,
Surely is naturally beautiful,
Beautiful in its own nature,
It is not that innocence has to see beauty everywhere,
But also the eyes with mature mind!
Learn Ramdas,
Who can smile with your lips
than yourself?
A life can bring smile to another,
Smile is contiguous,
Laugh wakes up the sleeping envious,
Because smile knows to conceal,
Laugh is innocent of envy!
learn Ramdas,
Be careful, yawning and laziness are more
harmful,
They are fast spreading disease,
Vaccinate yourself with sense
of duty and presence of mind!
Select words before lips can sound,
Sound is three dimensional wave,
May get echoed from all directions,
Not only from people around,
But also by earth below your feet,
But also by sky above the head!
spread smile and gentle words,
Even when you disagree with some one,
Be sure your words are more agreeable to all,
May your word breath wisdom, bring a smile in someone,
And wisdom spread with smile like Sunrays!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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These Are Days
[ buck/merchant ]
[ percussion: paulinho da costa ]
These are days youll remember.
Never before and never since, I promise, will the whole world be warm as this.
And as you feel it, youll know its true that you are blessed and lucky.
Its true that you are touched by something that will grow and bloom in you.
These are days youll remember.
When may is rushing over you with desire to be part of the miracles you see in every hour.
Youll know its true that you are blessed and lucky.
Its true that you are touched by something that will grow and bloom in you.
These are days.
These are the days you might fill with laughter until you break.
These days you might feel a shaft of light make its way across your face.
And when you do youll know how it was meant to be.
See the signs and know their meaning.
Its true, youll know how it was meant to be.
Hear the signs and know theyre speaking to you, to you.
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song
Lord, when the sense of thy sweet grace
Sends up my soul to seek thy face.
Thy blessed eyes breed such desire,
I dy in love’s delicious Fire.
O love, I am thy Sacrifice.
Be still triumphant, blessed eyes.
Still shine on me, fair suns! that I
Still may behold, though still I dy.
Though still I dy, I live again;
Still longing so to be still slain,
So gainfull is such losse of breath.
I dy even in desire of death.
Still live in me this loving strife
Of living Death and dying Life.
For while thou sweetly slayest me
Dead to my selfe, I live in Thee.
poem by Richard Crashaw
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The House Of Dust: Part 02: 01: The round red sun heaves darkly out of the sea
The round red sun heaves darkly out of the sea.
The walls and towers are warmed and gleam.
Sounds go drowsily up from streets and wharves.
The city stirs like one that is half in dream.
And the mist flows up by dazzling walls and windows,
Where one by one we wake and rise.
We gaze at the pale grey lustrous sea a moment,
We rub the darkness from our eyes,
And face our thousand devious secret mornings . . .
And do not see how the pale mist, slowly ascending,
Shaped by the sun, shines like a white-robed dreamer
Compassionate over our towers bending.
There, like one who gazes into a crystal,
He broods upon our city with sombre eyes;
He sees our secret fears vaguely unfolding,
Sees cloudy symbols shape to rise.
Each gleaming point of light is like a seed
Dilating swiftly to coiling fires.
Each cloud becomes a rapidly dimming face,
Each hurrying face records its strange desires.
We descend our separate stairs toward the day,
Merge in the somnolent mass that fills the street,
Lift our eyes to the soft blue space of sky,
And walk by the well-known walls with accustomed feet.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Helaman 14: 31
When the heavens cast their eyes on me,
they cried - I felt their tears on my face;
their tears, they drench me...
and I felt cold.
When the stars cast their eyes on me,
they fell - and I was left in darkness
with the ringing evening bells.
The moon, when she cast her eyes on me,
she died - and was buried in dark clouds;
I was left alone and homeless...
and thought I might as well die;
for the evening bells are ringing...
the heavens - they're still crying.
The stars are all but fallen.
But no, I'll never stay in darkness.
I cast away the dark clouds in my thoughts
and looked up in the heavens.
They still cry but their tears are sweet -
I smiled and felt the tender coldness
it brought in my weary feet.
The stars have fallen, the moon has died,
for the sun has risen and has brought its light.
Heavens gave way, the evening bells retired.
The darkness chose me but I have chosen light.
Death has crept its way and chose me
but I have chosen life.
29 January 2011
Batac
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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To a GItana Dancing
Because you are fair as souls of the lost are fair,
And your eyelids laugh with desire, and your laughing feet
Are winged with desire, and your hands are wanton, and sweet
Is the promise of love in your lips, and the rose in your hair
Sweet, unfaded, a promise sweet to be sought,
And the maze you tread is as old as the world is old,
Therefore you hold me, body and soul, in your hold,
And time, as you dance, is not, and the world is as nought.
You dance, and I know the desire of all flesh, and the pain
Of all longing of body for body; you beckon, repel,
Entreat, and entice, and bewilder, and build up the spell,
Link by link, with deliberate steps, of a flower-soft chain.
You laugh, and I know the despair, and you smile, and I know
The delight of your love, and the flower in your hair is a star.
It brightens, I follow; it fades, and I see it afar;
You pause: I awake; have I dreamt? was it longer ago
Than a dream that I saw you smile? for you turn, you turn,
As a startled beast in the toils: it is you that entreat,
Desperate, hating the coils that have fastened your feet,
The desire you desired that has come; and your lips now yearn,
And your hands now ache, and your feet faint for love.
Longing has taken hold even on you,
You, the witch of desire; and you pause, and anew
Your stillness moves, and you pause, and your hands move.
Time, as you dance, is as nought, and the moments seem
Swift as eternity; time is at end, for you close
Eyes and lips and hands in sudden repose;
You smile: was it all no longer ago than a dream?
poem by Arthur Symons
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In The Gardens Of Shushan
BE pitiful ! Her lips have touched this cool
Clear stream that sets the long green leaves astir.
The very doves that dream beside the pool
Sang their soft notes to her.
For her these doors that claim the amorous south,
Bound in red bronze and stayed with cedar-wood.
And here the bees sought honey from her mouth,
So like a flower she stood.
For her the globed pomegranates grew, and all
Sweet savoury fruits rose perfect from their flower.
Here has her soul known silence and the fall
Of each enchanted hour.
Under her feet all beauty was laid low,
In her deep eyes all beauty was made clear.
When the king called her through the evening glow,
'O Vashti, I am here !'
Still the sweet wells return to me her face,
Still her lost name on every wind is blown.
The shadows and the silence of this place
Are hers alone.
poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
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