These Moments of Innocence {La Terza Versione}
This morning I awoke from a dream,
to the quintessence of pure innocence,
thru' my sunsoaked bedroom window.
Watched the sweet, soft landing
of a doves imposition,
upon a newborne branch
of the leanest tree,
lending shade, and confidence
to the infant limb,
by its presence, alone...
and nothing more;
discognizant to the virtue
of its mere presence,
...and nothing more -
just this...... and nothing more.
And it washed my face with smile
to see such divinity before my eye's.
Verdant and promising,
yet bleeding for nurture,
the infant limb embraced
the presence of the dove -
..........................cautiously.
And in time, so adopted
an unconscious bond of trust,
an expectence, if you will,
to all the young branch
grew accustomed to.
All this... and nothing more.
Moments such as these
are as close as perfection comes...
no closer be....just this,
and nothing more.
And ostensibly discognizant,
to the command of its presence
the white bird lays still,
ruminating about nothing
of significance, or consequence,
but mere expectence of the limb
for same reciprocal.
Still its wing's flutter spritely,
spinning fresh breeze upon itself
with an ambience of cherubic peace,
utopic peace.....in solitude.
Just this...and nothing more.
A trinity of doves carry overhead...
a family, a flock of natures' gold -
all this....and nothing more.
And within these fertile moments
innocence conceives;
innocence, incarnate,
life's sweetest gift.
And all too soon, life moves forward
as time knows how to do no different.
And with it, the child limb becomes -
a branch that will shoulder many years
of shelter, beauty....and so much more
providing confidence,
to its own offspring growth
upon the natural seed of nature.
And perhaps for a moment
the rememberance of a dove,
who has since moved forward in time -
to perch on other verdant trees
with newfound landings.
Yet, always discognizant
to its' virtuous presence,
the dove....would never know -
the gift it brought to an infant limb
so many ''moments'' ago.
All this, and so much more;
Innocence....a utopic dimension of being
that has no equal... to so much more.
These moments of absolute Innocence, I saw...
this morning....upon waking from a dream.
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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Related quotes
{Her}
I awoke sometime in the the night
Laid back looking at her
The moon was shining
Softly through the window
Enhancing her face
Giving her the restful look
That glow in children
I hope her dreams are soft and sweet
For when she rises
Her innocence of a child will be gone
She must face the hardships once again
A woman faces each day
When she lies to rest
She shall, once again, return to the innocence of a child
Needing only the little love
Every child should have
I will be beside her then
For when she needs that love
I will be there
Just to show that she is loved
poem by Robert W. McCarthy
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The Red Rose
The little red rose tapped at my window—
Tapped at my window long years ago;
Glad would I run then, trip to the shadow,
Who was in hiding well did I know.
Last night I, nodding, heard at the casement
Soft knock-a-knocking come on the pane.
'Hush! 'Tis the lost rose taps at my window—
Red rose, oh, sweet rose, come back again!'
Listless I moved then, laughed at my fancies—
Wept at my fancies of years ago.
Slow went a-seeking who was in hiding,
Who came a-tapping—how should I know?
Pushed wide the window, leaned to the silence—
'Red rose, oh, sweet rose, come back again!'
'Twas but a dead branch, broken and brown branch,
Soft knock-a-knocking there on the pane.
poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
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Outbreak of Peace
I awakened this morning...
So early I was shakened!
Did I hear someone say...
'There's been an outbreak of peace!
A recipe of peace is in all ovens baking? ! '
Did I hear this correctly?
So I went to the window to see!
And sure enough...
I saw Morning Doves!
Morning Doves at the base of a tree!
I opened the window,
And they chirped and moved on!
Leaving me with a 'song'...
To carry with me all day long!
Something perhaps I reflect,
And can be detected by others...
Who will take and pass it on!
I know something felt different...
Within me.
Yet in my heart it kept singing
Stronger until it longed
To belong.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Matins, Or Morning Prayer
When with the virgin morning thou dost rise,
Crossing thyself come thus to sacrifice;
First wash thy heart in innocence; then bring
Pure hands, pure habits, pure, pure every thing.
Next to the altar humbly kneel, and thence
Give up thy soul in clouds of frankincense.
Thy golden censers fill'd with odours sweet
Shall make thy actions with their ends to meet.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Child of Innocence
It was but a glance of hope
that I saw in her eyes
About winds on the meadows
and birds in the heights
A ticklish dream of spring
awaited for long amid the lies
O Child of pure innocence
run before the run of times
In the darkness lies there
this heart of guilt and sorrow
Grown up over the agonies
and veins tight and narrow
Mercifulness is so a blessing
but what left of it to follow?
O Child of pure innocence
nap, and yet there is tomorrow
Blabber not O my little
life blabbered enough for me
When your turn comes
surely there is something to be
Like a glancing star above
shine and let everyone see
O Child of pure innocence
what innocence shall it be?
poem by Taher Shemaly
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My Doves
OPPOSITE my chamber window,
On the sunny roof, at play,
High above the city's tumult,
Flocks of doves sit day by day.
Shining necks and snowy bosoms,
Little rosy, tripping feet,
Twinkling eyes and fluttering wings,
Cooing voices, low and sweet,-
Graceful games and friendly meetings,
Do I daily watch and see.
For these happy little neighbors
Always seem at peace to be.
On my window-ledge, to lure them,
Crumbs of bread I often strew,
And, behind the curtain hiding,
Watch them flutter to and fro.
Soon they cease to fear the giver,
Quick are they to feel my love,
And my alms are freely taken
By the shyest little dove.
In soft flight, they circle downward,
Peep in through the window-pane;
Stretch their gleaming necks to greet me,
Peck and coo, and come again.
Faithful little friends and neighbors,
For no wintry wind or rain,
Household cares or airy pastimes,
Can my loving birds restrain.
Other friends forget, or linger,
But each day I surely know
That my doves will come and leave here
Little footprints in the snow.
So, they teach me the sweet lesson,
That the humblest may give
Help and hope, and in so doing,
Learn the truth by which we live;
For the heart that freely scatters
Simple charities and loves,
Lures home content, and joy, and peace,
Like a soft-winged flock of doves.
poem by Louisa May Alcott
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Let Joy And Innocence Prevail
I tell you of a girl her husband was a soldier
gone to war in some strange country far away
no word had come to her
but the rumour of great battles fought
and dying in their thousands and the world full of fear
as the day would turn to evening she would a pure white candle
and place it in a window bright from where it could be seen
as she placed it in the window softly ? and ?
she said let this burning candle be a beacon
let joy and innocence prevail
let joy and innocence prevail
believe that luck will never fail
let joy and innocence prevail
and one night, asleep, she dreamed she saw her husband
fall in a great white cavilry charge
and waking in tears she saw the candle burning in the window
she still had hope
and through the window a man in the distance
but has he came closer, she saw he was a stranger
the stranger said I bring a message from a general
your captain has been wounded, his life hangs by a thread
he calls out your name and he wishes you to come to him
but the journey is a hard road and you may be afraid
and she laughed and said no road could be too hard for I am fearless
a captain and a husband I have gained this bright new day
and she said with all her heart she would fly to be beside hik
and her love would heal his wounds restore him to her
let joy and innocence prevail
let joy and innocence prevail
believe that luck will never fail
let joy and innocence prevail
let joy and innocence prevail
let joy and innocence prevail
believe that luck will never fail
let joy and innocence prevail
let joy and innocence prevail
song performed by by Grace Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Disconnected
I watch you stumble through the morning
I watch you stumble home at night
Silhouetted by a sun without sunlight
I've watched you walk straight through an evening
When you're laden with the day
And the light of the moon, it only gets in your way
From a bedroom window I was anyone
And the street I look upon is my runaway
But I'm connected to the places I don't feel connected from
I'm connected to the place that I don't feel like I'm from
This is the kind of town where everyone knows each other
And everyone hates that they know each other
And no one is getting any younger
From my bedroom window I was anyone
Every street I look upon could be a runaway
But I'm connected to the places I don't feel connected from
I'm connected to the place that I don't feel like I'm from
I'm connected to the places I don't feel connected from
I don't feel connected from
So move on here now
You don't belong here now
You don't belong
You'll never belong
You don't belong here now
You don't belong here now
You don't belong here now
You don't belong
You'll never belong
You don't belong here now
song performed by by Idlewild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Feather Of Yuri
if a dove leaves a feather
white,
pure,
it does not just tell you that
it was once here
it tells you also of another thing
that there is a good reason
for keeping
something like a memory
the sweet one
it does not tell you
to discard pain
but to remember everything
and learn
like you i am not a dove
does not speak the language of doves
does not have feathers
to leave for some people i love
to remember
but i have some pieces of me
some memories
some pieces of my mind and they are not feathers
though they may
like feathers be
light, soft, pure, and beautiful
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Morning Summer
AS I sit there dreaming of the morning sunshine
heart beating with the teardrops on my face
I never know as you walk away that morning
silent of the moment and my soul remember dim
Everything was dard that morning,
Never had the love of that summer
and my wait cried in the sunshine morning sky.
Watched the bird flied in sky,
to the soft hope for growth again.
But in my heart I hear the love song
as I admit my dream
that keeps me beating, over and again.
poem by Natasa Tocuc
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Dear little Darling
I don't have any kids but someday when i do i would like to say this one for them on there wedding day.
Dear little darling,
My sweet little child
I woke up this morning
With a thought in my head
I love you a lot
My dear sweet child
I love you so much
I made a poem,
Just for you sweet child
I want to see you grow,
I want to see you blossom,
I want to sing you lullabies,
I want to whisper soft words,
You make me smile
You make me laugh
You also make me cry,
I cry because I am happy
Happy to see you,
Happy to see you grow
I am filled with joy to see you every day
I am glad you are my child;
I know this poem doesn’t rhyme,
It doesn’t have to
You are what the poem is about,
I watched you grow,
I watched you blossom,
I sang sweet lullabies,
I whispered soft words,
And now its time for me to say goodbye;
You are my life, my gift from heaven
Although you are grown up
And it’s your wedding day
A day of happiness
A new chapter in your life,
But just remember this
You will always, be my sweet child.
Just Another Dream
Last night I dropped a dream
It turned into a moonbeam
I tried so hard to chase its hue
And then I looked, it became a dew
Too soft to hold and crystal pure
Fell on a flower, so demure
As the Night in silent serenade
Watched the tiny moonbeam slowly fade
Then with the light of coming Dawn
I woke, the dream, like mist had gone!
I tried to recall if the dream was mine
But the Day had turned it into sunshine.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Italian Myrtles
By many a soft Ligurian bay
The myrtles glisten green and bright,
Gleam with their flowers of snow by day,
And glow with fire-flies through the night,
And yet, despite the cold and heat,
Are ever fresh, and pure, and sweet.
There is an island in the West,
Where living myrtles bloom and blow,
Hearts where the fire-fly Love my rest
Within a paradise of snow-
Which yet, despite the cold and heat,
Are ever fresh, and pure, and sweet.
Deep in that gentle breast of thine-
Like fire and snow within the pearl-
Let purity and love combine,
O warm, pure-hearted Irish girl!
And in the cold and in the heat
Be ever fresh, and pure, and sweet.
Thy bosom bears as pure a snow
As e'er Italia's bowers can boast,
And though no fire-fly lends its glow-
As on the soft Ligurian coast-
'Tis warmed by an internal heat
Which ever keeps it pure and sweet.
The fire-flies fade on misty eves-
The inner fires alone endure;
Like rain that wets the leaves,
Thy very sorrows keep thee pure-
They temper a too ardent heat-
And keep thee ever pure and sweet.
poem by Denis Florence MacCarthy
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Through The Glass Of My Bedroom Window
Saw you walking towards the bridal path,
through the glass of my bedroom window;
virile bucks picking up the scent of Jaipur,
angry doe's, alerted to your morning walk.
Young stags soon rising fast an' anxiously;
dancing, darting over clustered branches,
scurrying for refuge...from the likes of you,
searching for their own kind and appetite.
And, that's why you should have never left
the foggy side.......of my bedroom window,
when all along....we could have been here
dancing, darting...underneath satin sheets.
Entertaining our yen an' pleasure in dining
on a breakfast of warm cream, and honey.
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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Dream Lover
The flowers outside my window
whose perfume scents the air
with a sweet sensation
as I lay on my bed.
They waft through the window
by a cool summer breeze
as I lay is soft perfusion
while around my light
moths begin to play.
My eyes are heavy
as sweet dreams call,
swirling around my head
while with my dream lover
my heart begins to fall.
The stars embedded in the night sky
like thousands of jewels
resting gently on black velvet.
I begin the dance with my dream lover
while moonbeams play around at our feet
as slowly in the darkness
I am captured by sleep.
6 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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An October Dream
Awaking from an October dream
To watch clouds roll over rooftops
While my love lays sleeping beside me
The quiet stillness of the morning air
The whisper of birdsong beyond the window
A scene set to be remembered
Damp cotton wool clouds faintly grey
A whistle of a bird singing somewhere
Still, still she sleeps safely dreaming
A soft light across her face
The awaking passion of a heart
Set free into a morning sky
How fair, how beautiful this feeling
To warm the soul with little ease
Who cares for the dream awoken from
When a day begins like this
A morning picture remembered
When waking from an October dream
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Abduction
During the early hours of a September night
a storm blew in, whist everyone slept tight.
A clap of thunder chased a lightening flash,
a gust of wind turned a bedroom window’s latch.
The rain was unforgiving, falling heavy, hard and fast,
lightening lit up the sky, as again the thunder crashed.
Into the bedroom a beam of light from the heavens shone,
which lifted and carried away a boy, as he slept on.
Up into the clouds he was taken by this impenetrable beam,
out of the storm into a silent place, with lights of green.
His sleep was disturbed by a change of noise and light,
as his half opened eyes saw shapes like ghosts in the night.
Believing he was dreaming he once again closed his eyes
content he was safe in his bed until the morning sun rise.
Barely awake he found himself lying on a hard dusty ground,
beneath a mauve sky, with no sun or moon, or clouds around.
A haunting stillness and silence added to his anxious fears,
confusion, panic, and loneliness soon followed with tears.
He decided that he was still asleep facing a dream’s unreality
and wouldn’t accept reality until he awoke in normality.
poem by Orlando Belo
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My dear dream
Dream of sea,
Dream of ships,
Dream of huge ocean,
Dream of men in unifom
Its my dream, dream so different,
Dream so new, dream of dark sky up above,
Dream of sea so calm, dream of sea roaring,
Its my sweet dream.
Dream so sweet, wonderfull, special, close to my heart,
Its my sweet dream.
Dreaming to get my dreams happen.
Its my sweet dream.
poem by Anees Akbar
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Your Innocence
Your innocence brings order to us,
It reminds us of our heaven,
This religion is pure and crimeless.
Then the men who led the men of cruelness
Define what life can mean with conclusion,
Your innocence brings order to us.
Let the future tell us the solution to the crisis,
Giving us order without computation,
This religion is pure and crimeless.
My production of money is from cunningness,
Forcing the actions from complication,
Your innocence brings order to us.
May we understand each other as generous,
Forming policies of kindness like a fountain,
This religion is pure and crimeless.
The condition we experience from riches is joyous,
Finding a happy home with the fortune,
This religion is pure and crimeless,
Your innocence brings order to us.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Spring Awoke To-Day
SPRING awoke to-day!
Somewhere--far away--
Spring awoke to-day
From the depth of dream.
Through the air bestirred
Pulse of winging bird,
Through the air bestirred
Laugh of hidden stream.
On the world's cold lips
Fell warm finger-tips;
On the world's cold lips
Woke the glow and gleam!
Spring awoke to-day!
Somewhere--far away--
Spring awoke to-day
From the depth of dream!
poem by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
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