Modern Love XVII: At Dinner She Is Hostess
At dinner, she is hostess, I am host.
Went the feast ever cheerfuller? She keeps
The Topic over intellectual deeps
In buoyancy afloat. They see no ghost.
With sparkling surface-eyes we ply the ball:
It is in truth a most contagious game:
HIDING THE SKELETON, shall be its name.
Such play as this the devils might appal!
But here's the greater wonder; in that we,
Enamoured of an acting nought can tire,
Each other, like true hypocrites, admire;
Warm-lighted looks, Love's ephemerioe,
Shoot gaily o'er the dishes and the wine.
We waken envy of our happy lot.
Fast, sweet, and golden, shows the marriage-knot.
Dear guests, you now have seen Love's corpse-light shine.
poem by George Meredith
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At play
Play that you are mother dear,
And play that papa is your beau;
Play that we sit in the corner here,
Just as we used to, long ago.
Playing so, we lovers two
Are just as happy as we can be,
And I'll say "I love you" to you,
And you say "I love you" to me!
"I love you" we both shall say,
All in earnest and all in play.
Or, play that you are that other one
That some time came, and went away;
And play that the light of years agone
Stole into my heart again to-day!
Playing that you are the one I knew
In the days that never again may be,
I'll say "I love you" to you,
And you say "I love you" to me!
I love you!" my heart shall say
To the ghost of the past come back to-day!
Or, play that you sought this nestling-place
For your own sweet self, with that dual guise
Of your pretty mother in your face
And the look of that other in your eyes!
So the dear old loves shall live anew
As I hold my darling on my knee,
And I'll say "I love you" to you,
And you say "I love you" to me!
Oh, many a strange, true thing we say
And do when we pretend to play!
poem by Eugene Field
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Ghosts
There are ghosts in the room.
As I sit here alone, from the dark corners there
They come out of the gloom,
And they stand at my side and they lean on my chair.
There's the ghost of a Hope
That lighted my days with a fanciful glow.
In her hand is the rope
That strangled her life out. Hope was slain long ago.
But her ghost comes to-night,
With its skeleton face and expressionless eyes,
And it stands in the light,
And mocks me, and jeers me with sobs and with sighs.
There's the ghost of a Joy,
A frail, fragile thing, and I prized it too much,
And the hands that destroy
Clasped it close, and it died at the withering touch.
There's the ghost of a Love,
Born with joy, reared with hope, died in pain and unrest,
But he towers above
All the others... this ghost: yet a ghost at the best.
I am weary, and fain
Would forget all these dead: but the gibbering host
Make my struggle in vain,
In each shadowy corner there lurketh a ghost.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Sonnet 62: Late, Tir'd With Woe
Late tir'd with woe, ev'n ready for to pine,
With rage of love, I call'd my love unkind;
She is whose eyes Love, though unfelt, doth shine,
Sweet said that I true love in her should find.
I joy'd, but straight thus water'd was my wine,
That love she did, but lov'd a Love not blind,
Which would not let me, whem she lov'd, decline
From nobler course, fit for my birth and mind:
And therefore by her love's authority,
Will'd me these tempests of vain love to flee,
And anchor fast myself on Virtue's shore.
Alas, if this the only metal be
Of Love, new-coin'd to help my beggary,
Dear, love me not, that you may love me more.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Red, Sparkling Wine
I Have Seen A Sight
Of a Man Falling Down …
… it wasn’t for a Fight
… but it was due to what He’d Found …
… Red Sparkling Wine… Does It Every Time
Red Sparkling Wine… She Should Be A Crime …
Red Sparkling Wine…
She Starts out – Flowing – Smooth
Gets in Your Blood – Then You got Somethin’ to Prove!
You Chase Her Intoxicating Perfume
… must be Brand X … or Lady-Doom …
… Red Sparkling Wine… Does It Every Time
Red Sparkling Wine… Feeling So Sublime …
Red Sparkling Wine…
… Sweet from the Vine, but She ain’t Vintage
Make You Loose Your Mind and Your Hard-Earned Wages
Her Cheap-Thrills… can’t Heal a Heart, that’s Bruised …
You ain’t in Love! … just in a Bottle of Booze …
of Red Sparkling Wine… Once in awhile is Fine
Red Sparkling Wine… Know the Warning Signs ….
of Red Sparkling Wine…
She’s Beautiful, as She Pours
Your Problems – Passed-Out, on The Floor
She’s Crystal-Blood in an Hour-Glass
Her Pity-Promises… just don’t Last…
Red Sparkling Wine… Does It Every Time
Red Sparkling Wine… She’ll have You begging for Dimes …
… to buy … Red Sparkling Wine…
She’ll leave You Broke, You won’t be able to Think
She’s ‘Madam Dope’ … if You Need One More Drink
… of Red Sparkling Wine… Just a Matter of Time
Red Sparkling Wine… Have Another… ‘ Cause I’m …
… Red Sparkling Wine …
poem by MoonBee Canady
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The Wedding Night
WITHIN the chamber, far away
From the glad feast, sits Love in dread
Lest guests disturb, in wanton play,
The silence of the bridal bed.
His torch's pale flame serves to gild
The scene with mystic sacred glow;
The room with incense-clouds is fil'd,
That ye may perfect rapture know.
How beats thy heart, when thou dost hear
The chime that warns thy guests to fly!
How glow'st thou for those lips so dear,
That soon are mute, and nought deny!
With her into the holy place
Thou hast'nest then, to perfect all;
The fire the warder's hands embrace,
Grows, like a night-light, dim and small.
How heaves her bosom, and how burns
Her face at every fervent kiss!
Her coldness now to trembling turns,
Thy daring now a duty is.
Love helps thee to undress her fast,
But thou art twice as fast as he;
And then he shuts both eye at last,
With sly and roguish modesty.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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To Fannie
Write to thine eyes? Why, my poor pen
Quails at the unequal task;
I fear you don't appreciate
The mighty boon you ask.
Thine eyes, I know, oh! beautiful!
True poets would inspire;
But, dear, you should remember, that
I've not a poet's fire.
But still at thy request I call
My sleeping muse to me,
To write a sonnet to thine eyes-
Would it were worthy thee!
Tender and loving, soft and pure,
They pierce the heart of man;
And with the aid of Cupid's darts,
Maim all the hearts they can.
Bright as the stars in yonder sky,
They shine for all on earth:
So sad in sorrow, glad in joy,
And sparkling in their mirth.
They, like the eyes of the gazelle,
Gaze fondly where you love;
And who receives such gaze, esteems
Them angels from above.
Bright as the light of long-sought home
To pilgrims o'er earth's way,
Whose footsteps sore, have wandered far,
Through weary year and day.
The light of love, the light of truth,
From thy soft eyes e'er beam;
And from thy heart, so kind and true,
A host of virtues gleam.
Now if this sonnet, Fannie, dear,
Were written by a lover,
A thousand charms no doubt he'd see,
That I cannot discover.
poem by Mary Eliza Perine Tucker Lambert
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Silver Threads & Golden Needles
(dick reynolds / jack rhodes)
(the springfields)
I dont want your lonely mansion
With a tear in every room
All I wants to love you, promise
Beneath the haloed moon
But you think I should be happy
With your money and your name
And hide myself in sorrow
While you play your cheating game
Silver threads and golden needles
Cannot mend this heart of mine
And I dare not drown my sorrow
In the warm glow of your wine
But you think I should be happy
With your money and your name
And hide myself in sorrow
While you play your cheating game
Silver threads and golden needles
Cannot mend this heart of mine
And I dare not drown my sorrow
In the warm glow of your wine
You cant buy my love with money
For I never was that kind
Silver threads and golden needles
Cannot mend this heart of mine
Silver threads and golden needles
Cannot mend this heart of mine
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Fine Day In Heaven
You are the wine
you are the dove
and you are the wedding ring
sparkling with love.
Tomorrow we'll meet
and float on the lake.
We'll gather red roses
as Burns' prose discloses.
How romantic the hours
up in heaven above.
Then we will shine
in the name of true love,
hearing the organ play
'For The Wings of a Dove'
Mendelssohn reigns
Up in heaven above.
You are the wine
you are the dove
and you are the wedding ring
sparkling with love.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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Silver Threads And Golden Needles
(dick reynolds / jack rhodes)
(the springfields)
I don't want your lonely mansion
With a tear in every room
All i want's to love you, promise
Beneath the haloed moon
But you think i should be happy
With your money and your name
And hide myself in sorrow
While you play your cheating game
Silver threads and golden needles
Cannot mend this heart of mine
And i dare not drown my sorrow
In the warm glow of your wine
But you think i should be happy
With your money and your name
And hide myself in sorrow
While you play your cheating game
Silver threads and golden needles
Cannot mend this heart of mine
And i dare not drown my sorrow
In the warm glow of your wine
You can't buy my love with money
For i never was that kind
Silver threads and golden needles
Cannot mend this heart of mine
Silver threads and golden needles
Cannot mend this heart of mine
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Maundy Thursday
In a feast the host must receive the guests
With humility. Else he is the beast
That relegates his guests as mere beggars.
Jesus washed guests' feet on Maundy Thursday.[before the feast]
25.03.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Love's Light: The Philosopher at the Window
The eyes, it's said, are windows of the soul;
and when I see your eyes so sparkling bright,
I see there beauty, truth and goodness; all
as one; the radiance of an inner light.
But I who, standing, gaze though windows here:
what does my own soul see by its own light?
Is what is seen, seen through dark glass, or clear?
Is others' radiance that of my own sight?
Strange fact: the outward play's less bright, less clear
than what I see to shine in others' eyes;
there seems less love in me, from me; less dear
the loving, than the love I see and prize!
These windows teach clear lessons to my soul:
first see my own self's light, to see the whole.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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There's a Spot in the Mountains
There's a spot in the mountains, where the dew,
dear,
Is laden with the odors of the pine,
Where the heavens seem unbounded, and their
blue, dear,
Is deepest where it mirrored seems to shine.
There, at morn and eve, with rapture old and new,
dear,
The thrushes sing their double song divine,
And the melody their voices breathe, of you, dear,
Speaks ever to this happy heart of mine.
There's a cabin in the mountains, where the fare,
dear,
Is frugal as the cheer of Arden blest;
But contentment sweet and fellowship are there,
dear,
And Love, that makes the feast he honors—
best!
There's a lake upon the mountains, where our boat,
dear,
Moves gayly up the stream or down the tide,
Where, amidst the scented lily-buds afloat, dear,
We dream the dream of Eden as we glide!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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the Irish Wedding Knot
-THE IRISH WEDDING KNOT-
Have you ever seen a Wedding Knot
Carved from one piece of wood,
Given to an Irish Bride
Before the alter where they stood.
The one I have is walnut
Made by a loving hand.
It was passed down to my father
Just as his mother planned.
A marriage of a lifetime
Carved into that little knot.
A tiny little wooden cage...
Wooden ball within the slot.
That wooden ball just stays there
sliding 'round inside that cage,
Never will it be removed...
Never will it disengage.
Three marriages it's gone through
Each one has lasted long....
And as long as it remains inside
Your marriage won't go wrong.
This special knot I'll treasure
Three generations through.
This loving Irish Wedding Knot
Binds my love to me so true.
Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
Ms. Caroline
7-2-06
poem by Carolyn Ford Witt
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Justice Peace Truth & Love
For justice, truth and peace to flow
Love too has fruit to bear
United must become all four
And practiced everywhere
True justice cannot stand alone
It needs of truth and peace
When love becomes the corner stone
Sweet fruit will never cease
Let's drink The Truth as sweet old wine
Let love live not in vane
Mix justice now with peace divine
Allow harmony reign
For justice without love is nought
Peace without truth’s a lie
Until the world this fact is taught
Condemned she’s bound to die
To facts of life she must be wise
Her children need to see
Until they look with open eyes
Salvation cannot be
When truth and peace they understand
When love becomes her root
When justice lifts her outstretched hand
She’ll bear the sweetest fruit
Let candour be a constant guide
Integrity wear a crown
Impartiality reign inside
With love as wedding gown
Allow love’s wisdom steadfast rule
Truth’s knowledge change one’s heart
Let peace become our daily tool
Let justice play her part
poem by Michael P. Johnson
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But Not For Me
George and ira gershwin
Theyre writing songs of love, but not for me.
A lucky stars above, but not for me.
With love to lead the way
Ive found more clouds of grey
Than any russain play could guarantee.
I was a fool to fall and get that way;
Heigh-ho! alas! and also, lack-a-day!
Although I cant dismiss the memry of his kiss, I guess hes mot for me.
Hes knocking on a door, but not for me.
Hell plan a two by four, but not for me.
I know that loves a game;
Im puzzled, just the same,
Was I the moth or flame?
Im all at sea.
It all began so well, but what an end!
This is the time a feller needs a friend,
When evry happy plot ends with the marriage knot,
And theres no knot for me.
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Animals love Football
It's not just us humans who play football
animals love the beautiful game too
they love nothing more than a kickabout
in fact it's the all the rage in the zoo.
Camels like to hump the ball upfield
Swallows and Swifts love to fly down the wing
Sloths like to take their time on the ball
but kingfishers get booked a lot for diving.
Spiders are good at the offside trap
Cobra's are deadly in a striking role
Crocodiles snap up all the crosses
but Foxes love to play in the hole.
Monkeys like to swing the ball around
Badgers and Bats prefer to play at night
Giraffes are good with very high balls
and Kangaroos are always up for a fight.
Pigs and Hippos love it when it's muddy
but Polar Bears like a pitch covered in ice
Owls are happy with any type of surface
as long as they can mark Voles and Mice!
poem by Kevin Halls
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The Call
Come, my Way, my Truth, my Life :
Such a Way, as gives us breath :
Such a Truth, as ends all strife :
And such a Life, as killeth death.
Come, my Light, my Feast, my Strength :
Such a Light, as shows a feast :
Such a Feast, as mends in length :
Such a Strength, as makes his guest.
Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart :
Such a Joy, as none can move :
Such a Love, as none can part :
Such a Heart, as joyes in love.
poem by George Herbert
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With Madness Like to Mine
NOT one is filled with madness like to mine
In all the taverns! my soiled robe lies here,
There my neglected book, both pledged for wine.
With dust my heart is thick, that should be clear,
A glass to mirror forth the Great King's face;
One ray of light from out Thy dwelling-place
To pierce my night, oh God! and draw me near.
From out mine eyes unto my garment's hem
A river flows; perchance my cypress-tree
Beside that stream may rear her lofty stem,
Watering her roots with tears. Ah, bring to me
The wine vessel! since my Love's cheek is hid,
A flood of grief comes from my heart unbid,
And turns mine eyes into a bitter sea!
Nay, by the hand that sells me wine, I vow
No more the brimming cup shall touch my lips,
Until my mistress with her radiant brow
Adorns my feast-until Love's secret slips
From her, as from the candle's tongue of flame,
Though I, the singèd moth, for very shame,
Dare not extol Love's light without eclipse.
Red wine I worship, and I worship her--
Speak not to me of anything beside,
For nought but these on earth or heaven I care.
What though the proud narcissus flowers defied
Thy shining eyes to prove themselves more bright,
Yet heed them not! those that are clear of sight
Follow not them to whom all light's denied.
Before the tavern door a Christian sang
To sound of pipe and drum, what time the earth
Awaited the white dawn, and gaily rang
Upon mine ear those harbingers of mirth:
'If the True Faith be such as thou dost say,
Alas! my Hafiz, that this sweet To-day
Should bring unknown To-morrow to the birth!'
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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O Cupid, Cupid; Get Your Bow!
Arming down along the stream,
Along the sparkling water,
And past the pool where lilies gleam,
There comes the squatter’s daughter.
Her eyes are kind; her lips are warm;
And like a flower her face is;
The habit shows her bonny form
As graceful as a Grace’s.
O I’ll be mad of love, I know;
My head she’ll surely addle;
O Cupid, Cupid; get your bow;
And shoot her from the saddle!
For, like a bird on breezes waft,
She quickly, quickly passes;
O Cupid, Cupid, draw your shaft;
And bring her to the grasses!
O she is worthy game for you;
And there is none to match her.
So, Cupid, send your arrow true;
And I’ll be there to catch her!
poem by Henry Lawson
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A Sparkling Smile
Just as a share joy,
Just like the love of it;
Unveil the real you when love knocks at your door.
Just the sheer of it,
Just a little smile for love;
Unveil the real you whenever duty calls.
Just like the hearing of voices from a distance,
Just like talking to the malakims;
Knit your heart out for the true love around you.
My sheer convidence,
The pride of it;
For her and for him like,
A sparkling smile to see what love is all about.
Red wine, coffee and tea;
My mind is bigger than my shoes!
For, i have the love for everyone.
Unveil the real you when true love calls,
And light up your face within the walls;
A sparkling smile is all that you need on this love.
Just the sheer of it,
Just the smile of love to keep you going;
Privileged like a monkey with banana when,
True love do knock at your door.
You're worth of it,
Take the sparkling smile of life;
You are all that is needed,
So share the true joy of it;
And, don't turn back on this love.
My mind is bigger than my shoes,
My eyes are sharper than my knife,
My legs are longer than my trousers,
My hands are shorter than my pen,
A sparkling smile on this love is all that you need;
So knit out your heart for this true love around you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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