Ballata
'O LITTLE shepherdesses fresh and fair,
Say whither do you come so soft and rare?
Say, whither lies the land where you were born,
Where sweeter fruits than any do betide?
With radiant smiles your faces you adorn,
Yet neither gold nor silver is your pride,
I trow Love fashioned you with him to bide,
Angels you seem yet tattered raiment wear! '
'We live upon a hill beside some trees;
Humble our cot, we sleep in tiny bed
Both one and all together at our ease
When homewards we our gentle flocks have led
At eventide; by nature we are fed
Day after day in flowery meadows fair.'
95 'Your loveliness might well indeed make moan,
Which only among hills and vales is seen,
Though the proud cities of the world would own
It worthy to hold honourably, I ween!
Poor lassies, had you not far happier been
Out of these woods in more refinèd air? '
'Nay, we are well contented with our fate,
And, when we tend our flocks in pastures bright,
Merrier we are than you who go in state
To revel in your chamber shuttered tight;
Riches we do not crave nor gold delight,
But weave gay songs and garlands for our hair! '
O Ballad, were I now as long ago,
I'd be a shepherd lad upon a hill;
I'd mark these lassies' goings, but none should know;
I'd seek their company with a right good will;
For ever we'd be calling 'Jack' and 'Jill,'
And wheresoe'er they went I'd follow there.
poem by Franco Sacchetti
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Mother India
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are the paradise on earth
Where things are not in any dearth.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
In Your Lap live men and women
Of every caste and religion.
You rain your love and affection
On them all without distinction.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You have got a peculiar trait
Due to which you are very great.
You adopt the foreigners too,
Who like to live and die for you.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are beautiful, all perfect;
You are rich in every aspect.
In the ancient times, we have heard,
Aliens called you ‘a golden bird’
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
The mountains guard your honour here;
The ocean washes your feet there.
The rivers contain sweet water
Which for us is just like nectar.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Our culture is ancient and high,
We are respected that is why.
Culture has bound us by and by,
With a chain of pure love and tie.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men
Who are not loyal, but still then,
Pose as lovers of this nation,
Whom we do not like to mention.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men;
Fire of hatred they ever fan.
Freedom, we fear, may not be lost,
Which we have got at a great cost.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Let us be wise not to be tool
Of selfish powers which befool
Those who do not well understand
Their aim which is behind their stand.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We will be lucky, if we die
For you, O Gracious Country High!
We’ll give them a fitting reply,
Who see you with a slanting eye.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
poem by Aziz Ahmad
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Mother India
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are the paradise on earth
Where things are not in any dearth.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
In Your Lap live men and women
Of every caste and religion.
You rain your love and affection
On them all without distinction.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You have got a peculiar trait
Due to which you are very great.
You adopt the foreigners too,
Who like to live and die for you.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are beautiful, all perfect;
You are rich in every aspect.
In the ancient times, we have heard,
Aliens called you ‘a golden bird’
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
The mountains guard your honour here;
The ocean washes your feet there.
The rivers contain sweet water
Which for us is just like nectar.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Our culture is ancient and high,
We are respected that is why.
Culture has bound us by and by,
With a chain of pure love and tie.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men
Who are not loyal, but still then,
Pose as lovers of this nation,
Whom we do not like to mention.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men;
Fire of hatred they ever fan.
Freedom, we fear, may not be lost,
Which we have got at a great cost.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Let us be wise not to be tool
Of selfish powers which befool
Those who do not well understand
Their aim which is behind their stand.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We will be lucky, if we die
For you, O Gracious Country High!
We’ll give them a fitting reply,
Who see you with a slanting eye.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
poem by Aziz Ahmad 'Aziz Moradabadi'
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Where Shall We Land
'_Where shall we land you, sweet_?'--Swinburne.
All listlessly we float
Out seaward in the boat
That beareth Love.
Our sails of purest snow
Bend to the blue below
And to the blue above.
Where shall we land?
We drift upon a tide
Shoreless on every side,
Save where the eye
Of Fancy sweeps far lands
Shelved slopingly with sands
Of gold and porphyry.
Where shall we land?
The fairy isles we see,
Loom up so mistily--
So vaguely fair,
We do not care to break
Fresh bubbles in our wake
To bend our course for there.
Where shall we land?
The warm winds of the deep
Have lulled our sails to sleep,
And so we glide
Careless of wave or wind,
Or change of any kind,
Or turn of any tide.
Where shall we land?
We droop our dreamy eyes
Where our reflection lies
Steeped in the sea,
And, in an endless fit
Of languor, smile on it
And its sweet mimicry.
Where shall we land?
'Where shall we land?' God's grace!
I know not any place
So fair as this--
Swung here between the blue
Of sea and sky, with you
To ask me, with a kiss,
'Where shall we land?'
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Ode To Sister Greta
My sister is beautiful
pale like a rare dawn
she sheds light that is sometimes difficult
because though people claim they want illumination
they fear those rays of daylight
that may expose
scars born of the night
Like a rare dawn my sister brings
song
on delicate wings
And strong tea to paint smiles on yawning lips.
Pale like a rare dawn
that wakes the wolf
and stirs the fawn.
My sister is beautiful.
Pale like a rare dawn.
poem by Sonja Cienfuegos
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Psalm 87
Among the holy Mountains high
Is his foundation fast,
There Seated in his Sanctuary,
His Temple there is plac't.
Sions fair Gates the Lord loves more
Then all the dwellings faire
Of Jacobs Land, though there be store,
And all within his care.
City of God, most glorious things
Of thee abroad are spoke;
I mention Egypt, where proud Kings
Did our forefathers yoke,
I mention Babel to my friends,
Philistia full of scorn,
And Tyre with Ethiops utmost ends,
Lo this man there was born:
But twise that praise shall in our ear
Be said of Sion last
This and this man was born in her,
High God shall fix her fast.
The Lord shall write it in a Scrowle
That ne're shall be out-worn
When he the Nations doth enrowle
That this man there was born.
Both they who sing, and they who dance
With sacred Songs are there,
In thee fresh brooks, and soft streams glance
And all my fountains clear.
poem by John Milton
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Every child born into the world is a new thought of God, an ever fresh and radiant possibility.
quote by Kate D. Wiggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Best Friend's Wife
see, my best friend's wife is like my very own breath of life,
so blessed and so curved like a jewel from the nile,
her hair so long, so soft and fresh,
flows like paradise when caressed by the wind,
her touch so gentle,
her kisses so rare,
and when in bed she's way past fair,
so wild, but so kind, she's all that in one,
no other woman can compare, she's the only one,
her husband, i don't even know what she was thinking,
but i know what goes on in his mind,
when all his children start looking like mine
poem by Lucas Miganda
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My Lies
i know that you know
that i have been making lies to you
but i know that you know that
my lies are sweet
sweeter than truth
lovelier than
what had been keeping
you so unhappy
and so we are taking the risk
of loving
throwing away all our possibilities
catching up
with what is there at this moment
now
when we undress our bodies
and see for ourselves
the more beautiful part of our
naked truths
my lies my love
are sweeter than truths
that never made you smile
in all your
life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Waters of an Oasis
It's clearer than purified water
much expensive than processed water
sweeter than honey jelly
healthier than rain water.
It's scarce than ocean water
plenty than lake water
quenching than well's water
energizing than falls' waters.
Oasis fruits are sweeter
its grass are healthier
its breezes are more lulling
and a unique captivating topography.
Oasis love is more loving.
Oasis air is more fresh
oasis life is worth living
oasis care is more caring
oasis death is more victorious.
poem by Fate Mcfate
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Tromso Norway
Born delight
Soft seductress
Of my might
Fair face at passion
Dark night
Love lust fusion
At my hand
Fine-spun beauty
Of this land
poem by William Cavanagh
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On A Letter
I.
SUNBEAMS can fling no purer brightness o'er the sea
And rain-showers bring no surer blessing to the lea,
And lilies wing with no more sweetness the gold bee,
Than those few lines thy hand has penned have brought to me.
II.
Soft lies the silent fall of snow
Upon the hemlock tree;
Soft lies the moonlight's silver flow
Upon the troubled sea.
Sweet on the blossom of the vines
The night-dews drop from high;
But softer, sweeter far, thy lines
Upon my spirit lie.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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Fair Rose
Fair rose, fair rose, so sweet and soft,
Just as the skin of a new born babe,
Thy beauty grows as day goes by,
The danger wakes in thy razor thorns.
How, oh how can a creature so beauteous,
Hold such dire treacherousness?
Thou hast drawn me in so close,
Just outside thy painful touch,
When desire outgrows sense,
And thy thorn doth bring red stain.
Fair rose, fair rose, so sweet and soft,
How can thy beauty hold such great pain?
poem by Joseph Cross
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Love Sonnet 44 Breathes there my love, lovely as nymph of sea,
Breathes there my love, lovely as nymph of sea,
Her cheeks rosy as skies of Summer morn,
While sunsets glow as long as dusk would stay,
She would radiate, long after stars are born;
When nights are overcast, devoid of lights,
The sparkles emanate within her eyes,
When good fortune withdraws all its delights,
Her smiles remain among the last supplies;
Eden could not be elsewhere but her side,
Where fruits taste sweeter coming from her hand,
Her lap, better than thrones men would deride,
Her touch magical than a wizard's wand;
.....Such love bequeaths its splendor to the times,
.....And fill a poet's heart with many rhymes.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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In the Stag-night I predict a new dawn Chum!
One hour already retarded to bring him for the Christmas winter chimes and the sky get ready to send snow flakes to the burning Earth.
He smiles as a new born child with an honest heart.
Well-being for the land of opportunity!
And please do not forget this rare black tulip gives you the fragrance
As same as a white Lilac.
A faraway cottage chimney carries off smoke to the chirpy sky
That resembles me his marvelous face.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Eatting Fruits
Eat fruits
Eat...
Every day...
Each
Break fast...
Lunch...
Dinner...
Eat...
Fruits...
Fruits is
Good for health...
Fruits is
Good for Taste
Fruits is
Good for mind...
Fruits is
Good for god...
So...
Fruits is
Good for hole and
Hoe body...
Any fruits...
Any time...
Eat eat eat...
Avoide all all
Disease...
Thats all...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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God Smiles In Love Divinity
God smiles in love radiant divinity
universe shines in omniscient perfection creativity
all salvation hope lies in rebirth transformation trinity
poem by Terence George Craddock
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This is my
This is my native land
This is my mother tongue.
My land is free
No bondage is there.
Nobody can
holdup.
I can utter word
in my voice.
The air is
not fresh and fair.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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A Sun So Fair
The rocks stored up sun
For so long, and so long;
In their rocky hearts
Since time’s begun.
Tumbled and polished;
So rare, so rare-
They could tell a tale
From when we weren't there.
I'm saving these rocks
Born before earth,
Pieces of mantle
That gave me birth.
There's sun in my bones,
And sun in my hair-
Rock crystals- and beauty-
From a sun, so fair
poem by Patti Masterman
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From the Forests
Where in a green, moist, myrtle dell
The torrent voice rings strong
And clear, above a star-bright well,
I write this woodland song.
The melodies of many leaves
Float in a fragrant zone;
And here are flowers by deep-mossed eaves
That day has never known.
I'll weave a garland out of these,
The darlings of the birds,
And send it over singing seas
With certain sunny words -
With certain words alive with light
Of welcome for a thing
Of promise, born beneath the white,
Soft afternoon of Spring.
The faithful few have waited long
A life like this to see;
And they will understand the song
That flows to-day from me.
May every page within this book
Be as a radiant hour;
Or like a bank of mountain brook,
All flower and leaf and flower.
May all the strength and all the grace
Of Letters make it beam
As beams a lawn whose lovely face
Is as a glorious dream.
And may that strange divinity
That men call Genius write
Some deathless thing in days to be,
To fill those days with light.
Here where the free, frank waters run,
I pray this book may grow
A sacred candour like the sun
Above the morning snow.
May noble thoughts in faultless words -
In clean white diction - make
It shine as shines the home of birds
And moss and leaf and lake.
This fair fresh life with joy I hail,
And this belief express,
Its days will be a brilliant tale
Of effort and success.
Here ends my song; I have a dream
Of beauty like the grace
Which lies upon the land of stream
In yonder mountain place.
poem by Henry Kendall
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Song III
FROM THE FRENCH.
I.
'AH! say,' the fair Louisa cried,
'Say where the abode of Love is found?'
Pervading nature, I replied,
His influence spreads the world around.
When Morning's arrowy beams arise,
He sparkles in the enlivening ray,
And blushes in the glowing skies
When rosy evening fades away.
II.
The summer winds that gently blow,
The flocks that bleat along the glades,
The nightingale, that soft and low,
With music fills the listening shades:
The murmurs of the silver surf
All echo Love's enchanting notes,
From violets lurking in the turf,
His balmy breath through ether floats.
III.
From perfumed flowers and dewy leaves
Delicious scents he bids exhale,
He smiles amid autumnal sheaves,
And clothes with green the grassy vale;
But when that throne the god assumes
Where his most powerful influence lies,
'Tis on Louisa's cheek he blooms,
And lightens from her radiant eyes!
poem by Charlotte Smith
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