Modern Love II: It Ended, and the Morrow
It ended, and the morrow brought the task.
Her eyes were guilty gates, that let him in
By shutting all too zealous for their sin:
Each sucked a secret, and each wore a mask.
But, oh, the bitter taste her beauty had!
He sickened as at breath of poison-flowers:
A languid humour stole among the hours,
And if their smiles encountered, he went mad,
And raged deep inward, till the light was brown
Before his vision, and the world, forgot,
Looked wicked as some old dull murder-spot.
A star with lurid beams, she seemed to crown
The pit of infamy: and then again
He fainted on his vengefulness, and strove
To ape the magnanimity of love,
And smote himself, a shuddering heap of pain.
poem by George Meredith
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But for the Grace of God
“There, but for the grace of God, goes…”
There is a question that I ask,
And ask again:
What hunger was half-hidden by the mask
That he wore then?
There was a word for me to say
That I said not;
And in the past there was another day
That I forgot:
A dreary, cold, unwholesome day,
Racked overhead,—
As if the world were turning the wrong way,
And the sun dead:
A day that comes back well enough
Now he is gone.
What then? Has memory no other stuff
To seize upon?
Wherever he may wander now
In his despair,
Would he be more contented in the slough
If all were there?
And yet he brought a kind of light
Into the room;
And when he left, a tinge of something bright
Survived the gloom.
Why will he not be where he is,
And not with me?
The hours that are my life are mine, not his,—
Or used to be.
What numerous imps invisible
Has he at hand,
Far-flying and forlorn as what they tell
At his command?
What hold of weirdness or of worth
Can he possess,
That he may speak from anywhere on earth
His loneliness?
Shall I be caught and held again
In the old net?—
He brought a sorry sunbeam with him then,
But it beams yet.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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A crown of flowers
A crown of flowers
~
I don a crown of flowers
To mask the sorrow inside
Eyes which fall upon its beauty
Do not see the tears I cry
While the flowers bud to blossom
I wilt to almost nothing
In a garden colour filled with life
There is also a shadow found
In the sun the flower buds open
In the dark a heart is closed
The flowers shall be woven together
To hide something left unseen
The rose, the tulip and the bluebell rise
I am envious of their beautiful life
So I don I crown of flowers
To mask my sorrow inside
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Easter Hymn
Christ is risen and death subdued,
He hath hurled the conqueror down,
And the dark grave's solitude
Lighted from His glory-crown:
Called to His reward above,
See His gracious presence throw
Smiles of peace and words of love
On His followers here below.
Like a star-a sacred star,
Lo! He sits in brightness shrined,
Scattering beams of joy afar,
Beams of joy on all mankind-
Still in sorrow's darkest night,
And on trouble's restless sea,
Those benignant beams shall light,
And that star my guide shall be.
poem by John Bowring
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She Stole Me
She stole me, my identity
My personality
What I live for, What I breath for,
What I'd fight for, what I'd die for.
You told them it was your idea
You lied to them about your taste
The way you dressed
The way you wore your hair
The way you did your make-up
She stole my, my identity
My personality
What I live for, What I breath for
What I'd fight for, what I'd die for
I met a guy, who knew her from school
We dated for a while
He mentioned you a lot
It seemed he asked you first and you rejected him
he hurt me; he caused me pain; because of you
She stole my, my identity
My personality
What I live for, What I breath for
What I'd fight for, what I'd die for
All i know, is that i am me
You are you
You can never be me
I can never be consumed by you
It won't work, even though....
She stole my, my identity
My personality
What I live for, What I breath for
What I'd fight for, what I'd die for
poem by Donna Hendra
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Sonnet XXII: To Cyriack Skinner
Cyriack, this three years' day these eyes, though clear
To outward view of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot;
Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear
Of sun or moon or star throughout the year,
Or man or woman. Yet I argue not
Against Heav'n's hand or will, not bate a jot
Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer
Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask?
The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied
In liberty's defence, my noble task,
Of which all Europe talks from side to side.
This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask
Content, though blind, had I no better guide.
poem by John Milton
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To the Same
Cyriack, this three years’ day these eyes, though clear,
To outward view, of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot;
Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear
Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,
Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not
Against Heaven’s hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer
Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask?
The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied
In liberty’s defence, my noble task,
Of which all Europe rings from side to side.
This thought might lead me through the world’s vain mask
Content, though blind, had I no better guide.
poem by John Milton
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Sonnet 22
XXII
Cyriac, this three years' day these eyes, though clear,
To outward view, of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot;
Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear
Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,
Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not
Against Heav'n's hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer
Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask?
The conscience, Friend, t' have lost them overplied
In liberty's defence, my noble task,
Of which all Europe rings from side to side.
This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask
Content, though blind, had I no better guide.
poem by John Milton
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Motel Eyes
Her come on was direct and strong
From her question to her kiss
She said shed had a little much to drink
She didnt usually do this
But she was looking for another head to scalp tonight
And she had me right between her sights
I turned to face her as the jukebox clicked off
Playing a favorite song
And she looked pretty in the low lit bar
But something was wrong
I saw a dull red neon sign flashing in her eyes
It said vacancy, she had motel eyes
They were black as the night
And shone like a star
Fueled by the light
From a medicine jar
I looked again but there was nothing there
But ice in her eyes
Theres no disguising motel eyes
She had the angles all down pat
Her average must be high
And though it could have been a pleasure
I just had to say goodbye
Though there was something wicked
bout the way she flexed her thighs
She scared me with her motel eyes
They were black as the night
And shone like a star
Fueled by the light
From a medicine jar
I looked again but there was nothing there
But ice in her eyes
Theres no disguising motel eyes
She started saying something
bout movement versus size
The sign kept flashing in her motel eyes
They were black as the night
And shone like a star
Fueled by the light
From a medicine jar
I looked again but there was nothing there
But ice in her eyes
Theres no disguising motel eyes
Black as the night
Black as the night, motel eyes
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our street light
there we would sit
under the street light
free from the dark
just you and me
having a laugh
talking bout the good times
talking bout the bad
however messed up our lives were
watever pain we were in
the street light would heal us and set us free again
it was our getaway
it was our thing
the street light brought us together
the street light brought us the end
i still remember that street light like that special glow you had my friend
the street light brought us fun
the street light brought us love
the street light brought us warmth as we lay and look at the stars above
i was happy under the street light
as i knew you were too
comforting each other was all we used to do
the street light may be faded
the street light may be dull
but lets just remember the street light kept us going strong!
poem by Brad Brown
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I Wake And Feel The Fell Of Dark
I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day,
What hours, O what black hours we have spent
This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went!
And more must, in yet longer light's delay.
With witness I speak this. But where I say
Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament
Is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent
To dearest him that lives alas! away.
I am gall, I am heartburn. God's most deep decree
Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me;
Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse.
Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see
The lost are like this, and their scourge to be
As I am mine, their sweating selves; but worse.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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Sickened By the Wicked and Kicked
So many moaning thrown under the bus.
And overdosed by phonies...
Now busted of trust.
And O.D.'d by these phonies,
They once believed.
O.D.'d by straight phonies,
They chose not to see!
So sad are these believers,
Deceived to grieve.
With hearts they show to others,
Upon on their sleeves.
And signs of empathy don't come at all!
To those spoiled by a lifestyle fed to fall.
Sickened by the wicked and kicked in the rear!
So many moaning thrown under the bus.
And overdosed by phonies...
Now busted of trust.
And O.D.'d by these phonies,
They once believed.
O.D.'d by straight phonies,
They chose not to see!
Sickened by the wicked and kicked in the rear!
So sad are these believers,
Deceived to grieve.
Sickened by the wicked and kicked in the rear!
Sickened by the wicked and kicked in the rear!
With hearts they show to others,
Upon on their sleeves.
And signs of empathy don't come at all!
To those spoiled by a lifestyle fed to fall.
Sickened by the wicked and kicked in the rear!
And signs of empathy don't come at all!
'You and me too.
Used and abused!
And...
Sickened by the wicked and kicked in the rear!
And...
Sickened by the wicked and kicked in the rear!
And...
Sickened by the wicked and kicked in the rear!
And O.D.'d by these phonies,
We once believed.
O.D.'d by straight phonies,
We chose not to see!
Now...
Sickened by the wicked and kicked.
Now...
Sickened by the wicked and kicked.
Now...
Sickened by the wicked and kicked.
Now...
Sickened by the wicked.
Sickened by the wicked.
Sickened by the wicked and kicked! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Poison Heart
No one ever thought this one would survive
Helpless child, gonna walk a drum beat behind
Lock you in a dream, never let you go
Never let you laugh or smile, not you.
Well, I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart
I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart.
Making friends with a homeless torn up man
He just kind of smiles, it really shakes me up.
There's danger on every corner but I'm okay
Walking down the street trying to forget yesterday.
Well, I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart.
I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart,
a poison heart, a poison heart, a poison heart ... yeah!
You know that life really takes its toll
And a poet's gut reaction is to search his very soul
So much damn confusion before my eyes,
But nothing seems to phase me and this one still survives.
I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart.
I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart,
Well, I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart.
a poison heart, a poison heart, a poison heart.
a poison heart, a poison heart, a poison heart.
song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Things Are Looking Up
If I should suddenly start to sing
Or stand on my head or anything
Dont think that Ive lost my senses
Its just that my happiness finally commences
The long long ages of dull despair
Are turning into thin air
And it seems that suddenly ive
Become the happiest girl alive
Things are looking up
Ive been looking the landscape over
And its covered with 4 leaf clover
Oh things are looking up
Since love looked up at me
Bitter was my cup
But no more will I be the mourner
For Ive certainly turned the corner
Oh things are looking up
Since love looked up at me
See the sunbeams
Every one beams
Just because of you
Loves in session
And my depression
Is unmistakably through
Things are looking up
Its a great little world we live in
Oh Im happy as a pup
Since love looked up at me
(bridge)
See the sunbeams
Every one beams
Just because of you
Loves in session
And my depression
Is unmistakably through
Things are looking up
Its a great little world we live in
Oh Im happy as a pup
Since love looked up at me
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: CIV
THE SAME CONTINUED
O world, in very truth thou art too young,
They gave thee love who measured out thy skies,
And, when they found for thee another star,
Who made a festival and straightway hung
The jewel on thy neck. O merry world,
Hast thou forgot the glory of those eyes
Which first looked love in thine? Thou hast not furled
One banner of thy bridal car for them.
O world, in very truth thou art too young.
There was a voice which sang about thy Spring,
Till Winter froze the sweetness of his lips,
And lo, the worms had hardly left his tongue
Before thy nightingales were come again.
O world, what courage hast thou thus to sing?
Say, has thy merriment no secret pain
No sudden weariness that thou art young?
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Love's Suicide
Le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle.
THIS treasure of love, these passion-flowers,
Dear as desire, are dearly bought:
The sweet unrest of seeing you
For some too-happy hour or two,
Is paid by such a wealth of tears,
Such grief, such bitterness, such fears,
Such wild remorse, such weak regret,
Such tide of longing towards you set,
As poison all my other hours,
And murder every other thought.
I cannot drink joy steeped in fears,
I choose the cold unhurtful days;
The roses you hold out to me
Are red and sweet enough to be
A crown one would so gladly wear
If but one's brows were strong to bear
The weight, and did not ache and ache
For the fair coronation's sake,
And dread of coming crownless years
When tired feet shall tread thorny ways.
There is a peace in sombre skies
Where no sun even tries to shine,
But not in these where transient glow,
And passionate bursts of sunshine show
Only life's dull fields drenched with rain,
And then the clouds set fast again
Into a leaden sky like this is,
Lit by no lightnings of warm kisses,
Whence, while I look into your eyes,
A thunderbolt may fall on mine.
I give you back the rose I stole,
Pluck but pale leaves that near me grow.
I cannot love with half a heart,
'Tis all or nothing for my part;
And since the all may not be ours,
Since we may only pluck Love's flowers,
But may not in his temple stay,
I choose the grey and lonely way--
And you--be thankful from your soul
That, loving you, I let you go.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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A Supplement of an Imperfect Copy of Verses of Mr. William
One of her hands one of her cheeks lay under,
Cosening the pillow of a lawful kiss,
Which therefore swell'd, and seem'd to part asunder,
As angry to be robb'd of such a bliss!
The one look'd pale and for revenge did long,
While t'other blush'd, 'cause it had done the wrong.
Out of the bed the other fair hand was
On a green satin quilt, whose perfect white
Look'd like a daisy in a field of grass,
And show'd like unmelt snow unto the sight;
There lay this pretty perdue, safe to keep
The rest o' th' body that lay fast asleep.
Her eyes (and therefore it was night), close laid
Strove to imprison beauty till the morn:
But yet the doors were of such fine stuff made,
That it broke through, and show'd itself in scorn,
Throwing a kind of light about the place,
Which turn'd to smiles still, as't came near her face.
Her beams, which some dull men call'd hair, divided,
Part with her cheeks, part with her lips did sport.
But these, as rude, her breath put by still; some
Wiselier downwards sought, but falling short,
Curled back in rings, and seemed to turn again
To bite the part so unkindly held them in.
poem by John Suckling
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The Mask
yes, there was this man in the village
he was happy.
yet, no one know who he really was
even until death.
all his life he wore the mask of the happy man
dignified and praised.
when he lived till 60 he wore the mask through and through
he was famous for his love and charity.
till his funeral the people cried
there i saw the mask, smiling and always willing to help
always empathizing, always willing to understand
the plight of each and everyone
and he was buried a happy man
time buries all including the mask of the happy man
if only they had taken time to dig him out from his grave
they could have seen the rotten ugliness beneath the mask of happiness
let him go, those who knew later said
he was a happy man, he served us so well, let him be, we pray.
i know the ugliness of his true self
but i guess, no one likes to hear what it is.
my lips are sealed
now we must praise him again: posthumously.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My shiney star
You are the best thing that ever happen to you mom
you light the path to my heart with your smile
You brought you mom to relative when you were born into this world
you are your mom pride and joy and my shiny star
You are an angel that guided your mom in the right path
You are my shiny that bring joy in my life
You are my shiny star that just takes my breath away
You are the most beautiful and elegant star that shines so bright
When I held you in my arms for the very first time I knew i loved you
You are the greatest gift that a aunt could ask for, You are a one of kind that stole my love
Your my niece the one I treasure and who i love dearly
You are my shiny star that brings joy to my life when your near.
poem by Candymarie Nevin
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Love Lights
The sun rises
sparkle fingers
aop the horizon;
my feelings are alive.
I tingle at the breeze of a single
butterfly wing
that is your touch;
dust in light shafts
come through
the window sill
stir
and float
above us,
I move to taste you;
perfumed still
from the surging night
and you loom above me
reaching
across our illumination;
swirling
to me;
my nipples swelling
remembering
night time lustings;
night time now is dust light beams
dancing in moon streams
gleaming.;
smooth
skin now
igniting again
against
smooth
skin;
I hear you moan,
reclaim my center
with your weight
and I compress
caress your chest;
last nights
love
in an instant
returns with us to bed,
and we imitate
the sun rise
slow soothing
love-making
in the steady ray sun beams
while shadow flowers
in the window box
follow our movements
on the wall;
love strokes-
rhythmic signs
surrendering breath
and astonishment
as body love
takes hold.
Once again
we fall among the lost.
The taste of you
on my tongue
again
the smell of you
rush to my lungs
again
we spiral away;
we're gone;
timeless etched
bathed
in that bursting sun
which announces once again
morning.
Put your hand here I say
and you do
I sign
a soft sign
and you
your deep baritone
moans again;
sudden shuddering
and the window sill
tells me its sunset
8 hours
more we've lingered,
while a new sun
salutes us
on the bed
next day;
lying
finger tip to finger tip
as new shards
of light
proceed and recede
to the window sill
each saying
good night
see you in the morn;
each a long-stemmed
lit rose;
fading
slowly
leaving us
side by side
repleated
and completed.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Subterranean
My tears fall like rain
From the longlasting pain
When I look at your eyes
My heart just dies
Beauty divine
I hope you'll be mine
Open your arms
For all time
All dressed in white
Bringer of light
Spend time with me
All through the night
Beauty divine
Your tears taste like wine
Come to me
For all time
My spine shivers with the touch of your lips...
My pale skin turns red when we kiss...
Piercing your nails deep into my back...
As I slowly kiss your ivory neck...
I started to cry after hours of joyful sin...
My tears turned to roses as they embraced your skin...
I gathered them to a bouquet of the most beautiful flowers...
A bouquet of the most secret and ancient powers...
My amber heart started to glow as I died really slow...
song performed by by In Flames
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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