When I would Imagine
When I would image her features,
Comes up a shrouded head:
I touch the outlines, shrinking;
She seems of the wandering dead.
But when love asks for nothing,
And lies on his bed of snow,
The face slips under my eyelids,
All in its living glow.
Like a dark cathedral city,
Whose spires, and domes, and towers
Quiver in violet lightnings,
My soul basks on for hours.
poem by George Meredith
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Related quotes
Cathedral Spires
They have blown away the daylight hours we had
Left a leagcy, a deadly aftermath
We cannot exist in godforsaken lands
As we spiral down into oblivion
Breathing the fumes of fires that they ignite
Losing ground and we are all just losing sight
We shall never see another setting sun
Time to rise up and ascend, the end has come
No more willpower
Choked by hell fire
Darkness above
Blackening out the sun
Gripped by steel claws
Corrosion eating us
So before were all devoured
Time to rise up and retire
In cathedral spires
Watching as the world expires
From up amongst the clouds
In cathedral spires
No names
No graves
No prayers
Can save us
Ashes to dust
Doomsdays upon us now
It cannot be stopped
Genocide all is lost
Oh! were so tired
Time to rise up and conspire
In cathedral spires
Watching as our world expires
From up above the clouds
In cathedral spires
Jaws of corruption
Swallow us as one
Consuming every nation
Evoke resistance getting none
Complete disintegration
No good to defend
There can be but one outcome
We are no more - ascend
Vaporized fury
Offers no sanctuary
Oh! were so tired
Time to rise up and retire
In cathedral spires
Watching as the world expires
From up amongst the clouds
In cathedral
In cathedral spires
Oh! were so tired
Watching the world expire
Time that we retire
Up in cathedral spires
Oh! were so tired
Watching the world expire
Time that we retire
Up in cathedral spires
Oh! were so tired
Watching the world expire
Time that we retire
Up in cathedral spires
Oh! were so tired
Watching the world expire
Time that we retire
Up in cathedral spires
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The City In The Sea
Lo! Death has reared himself a throne
In a strange city lying alone
Far down within the dim West,
Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best
Have gone to their eternal rest.
There shrines and palaces and towers
(Time-eaten towers that tremble not!)
Resemble nothing that is ours.
Around, by lifting winds forgot,
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters he.
No rays from the holy heaven come down
On the long night-time of that town;
But light from out the lurid sea
Streams up the turrets silently-
Gleams up the pinnacles far and free-
Up domes- up spires- up kingly halls-
Up fanes- up Babylon-like walls-
Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers
Of sculptured ivy and stone flowers-
Up many and many a marvellous shrine
Whose wreathed friezes intertwine
The viol, the violet, and the vine.
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters lie.
So blend the turrets and shadows there
That all seem pendulous in air,
While from a proud tower in the town
Death looks gigantically down.
There open fanes and gaping graves
Yawn level with the luminous waves;
But not the riches there that lie
In each idol's diamond eye-
Not the gaily-jewelled dead
Tempt the waters from their bed;
For no ripples curl, alas!
Along that wilderness of glass-
No swellings tell that winds may be
Upon some far-off happier sea-
No heavings hint that winds have been
On seas less hideously serene.
But lo, a stir is in the air!
The wave- there is a movement there!
As if the towers had thrust aside,
In slightly sinking, the dull tide-
As if their tops had feebly given
A void within the filmy Heaven.
The waves have now a redder glow-
The hours are breathing faint and low-
And when, amid no earthly moans,
Down, down that town shall settle hence,
Hell, rising from a thousand thrones,
Shall do it reverence.
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
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Salisbury
In the city of Salisbury, I was born
On a cold and snowy winter's morn.
Now I am living some miles away,
But I often take a trip there for a day.
Through its streets, I love to roam;
When I am there, it feels like home.
To the City, I still feel a connection;
For the City, I still feel much affection.
I love the City's great atmosphere;
The Cathedral bells, I love to hear.
Visitors flock from both near and far;
The towering Cathedral is its big star.
I love its mixture of old and new;
I love its style; its charming views.
It isn't a city which is run of the mill;
Its character, progress, has not killed.
To that City, I will always belong.
The bond between us is still strong.
In the city of Salisbury, my life did start;
I want to rest there when, this life, I depart.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Norumbega Hall
Not on Penobscot's wooded bank the spires
Of the sought City rose, nor yet beside
The winding Charles, nor where the daily tide
Of Naumkeag's haven rises and retires,
The vision tarried; but somewhere we knew
The beautiful gates must open to our quest,
Somewhere that marvellous City of the West
Would lift its towers and palace domes in view,
And, to! at last its mystery is made known--
Its only dwellers maidens fair and young,
Its Princess such as England's Laureate sung;
And safe from capture, save by love alone,
It lends its beauty to the lake's green shore,
And Norumbega is a myth no more.
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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After our Likeness.
Before me now a little picture lies—
A little shadow of a childish face,
Childishly sweet, yet with the dawning grace
Of thought and wisdom on her lips and eyes.
Fair, oval, broad-brow'd face—small, delicate head—
Transparent skin, with blue veins shining through—
All the soft outlines, beautiful and true,
Bring me the echo of the words “God said.”
Made “in our image”—sure 'tis that we see,
God's likeness, in the fair face of a child,
By the world's sin and passion undefiled—
Ay, as I look, it seems quite plain to me.
The light wherein the little features shine,
Strange, mystic light, so undefined and faint,
So far too pure for any words to paint—
'Tis a reflection of the Face divine.
Some day the earthly shadows will be cast
Across that sunshine—it may be to dim
A while the visible countenance of Him;
But 'twill be there—the likeness—to the last.
Some day the lucid waters, in which lie
Pictured those glorious lineaments, will be
Stirred up and troubled like a stormy sea;—
But they will yet re-settle—by-and-by.
They will re-settle when the soul is still'd,
Its passions, its wild longings, and its pain;
The pure reflection will shine out again
When earth's hopes are relinquish'd, unfulfill'd.
They will re-settle in those after-years
When life's hard lessons have been conned and learn'd;
Then this child's beauty will have all return'd,
More lovely for the trouble and the tears.
They will re-settle in the calm of death,
When the sweet eyes are laid asleep, and when
The heart is hush'd. Truly God's likeness then—
The mirror clear, unsullied by a breath.
Ah! while I look, and trace each tender line,
I think most of the day when I shall see
The dear face in that perfect purity,
Its mortal features clothed with the divine.
This self-same face, but with the image bright,
Nevermore undefined, and faint, and dim;
This self-same face, yet like the face of Him,
In glory and in beauty infinite.
poem by Ada Cambridge
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Two Capitals—1910
Moscow
White Moscow of the pearly towers,
And golden domes for praise,
And chiming hours!
Red Moscow of the Kremlin walls,
And bloody battle ways,
And fire-scarred halls!
Beautiful Moscow brave and bright,
Whose banners floated toward the light
When Asia knocked at Europe's door
And bleeding tzars paid off our score—
Ah, shining city, far away
Your gaudy spires salute the day
Like opal-hearted iris flowers
Decking the blue transparent hours.
Now from your seat the slim rails run
Through Asia to the rising sun,
Along the ancient highway made
By caravan and cavalcade.
Still East and West meet at your gate—
That Kremlin gate where once in state
Great Europe's conqueror, seeking room,
Marched through triumphant to his doom.
Proud Moscow of barbaric tzars,
Of gorgeous crownings and dark wars,
Jewel-encrusted, rich with age,
Heir of a lordly heritage,
Look out from Ivan's tower of bells—
See, the vast East is proud with day!
Soon to your ancient citadels
The world will march the Asian way.
White Moscow of the pearly towers.
And golden domes for praise
And chiming hours!
Red Moscow of the Kremlin walls,
And bloody battle ways
And fire-scarred halls!
Peking
Under her yellow roofs adream
The imperial city sleeps in state,
While warrior nations, flags agleam,
Come marching through her fortress gate.
Beneath her towered wall, one by one,
The slow contemptuous camels tread,
And through it eager engines run
Over the dust of ages dead.
Peking! close bound in triple walls,
Between the old and new she lies;
The yellow dragon guards her halls,
The blare of trumpets fills her skies.
She stirs out of her age-long sleep
By the worn temples chill and still,
Where Sung and Ming and Mongol keep
Their ghostly watch from hill to hill.
Over the graves of dynasties
The winds of dawn blow free and far—
Heralds of hastening centuries,
With banners flown for peace or war.
O brooding East!
O winds of dawn!
From the night-long feast
The kings are gone.
What guests will come
Down the world's highway
At the roil of the drum
For the day?
poem by Harriet Monroe
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Insomnia
Curl up tight into a ball
Curl my body against the soil
Staring up here
At the cathedral wall
I will sleep tonight
Be a baby. forget it all
Be a baby watch the quiet stones
Massive friend cathedral wall
I will sleep tonight
A mother to the living
A mother to the dead
Silent as the moonlight
I come to lay my head
And i won't know you. anymore
The peckish evening rolls once more
Into the ravenous night
Of hunger pains
That keep our troubled souls awake
A mother to the living
A mother to the dead
My ghost will drink the moonlight
Magic stones my heart and bones
And i won't know you. anymore
She's cold and she knows peace. cathedral wall
She's cold. she shows. i borrow
Keep away
Keep you away my love, my love
And pray
I might sleep tonight
The violence of my heartbeat
The violence of the blood
I will sleep with the cathedral
And, one day, you'll give up
And i will love you
But i won't know you
Anymore
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Like This
If anyone asks you
how the perfect satisfaction
of all our sexual wanting
will look, lift your face
and say,
Like this.
When someone mentions the gracefulness
of the nightsky, climb up on the roof
and dance and say,
Like this.
If anyone wants to know what 'spirit' is,
or what 'God’s fragrance' means,
lean your head toward him or her.
Keep your face there close.
Like this.
When someone quotes the old poetic image
about clouds gradually uncovering the moon,
slowly loosen knot by knot the strings
of your robe.
Like this.
If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead,
don’t try to explain the miracle.
Kiss me on the lips.
Like this. Like this.
When someone asks what it means
to 'die for love,' point
here.
If someone asks how tall I am, frown
and measure with your fingers the space
between the creases on your forehead.
This tall.
The soul sometimes leaves the body, the returns.
When someone doesn’t believe that,
walk back into my house.
Like this.
When lovers moan,
they’re telling our story.
Like this.
I am a sky where spirits live.
Stare into this deepening blue,
while the breeze says a secret.
Like this.
When someone asks what there is to do,
light the candle in his hand.
Like this.
How did Joseph’s scent come to Jacob?
Huuuuu.
How did Jacob’s sight return?
Huuuu.
A little wind cleans the eyes.
Like this.
When Shams comes back from Tabriz,
he’ll put just his head around the edge
of the door to surprise us
Like this.
A Song
The Shape alone let others prize,
The Features of the Fair;
I look for Spirit in her Eyes,
And Meaning in her Air.
A Damask Cheek, an Iv'ry Arm,
Shall ne'er my Wishes win,
Give me an animated Form,
That speaks a Mind within.
A Face where awful Honour shines,
Where Sense and Sweetness move,
And Angel Innocence refines,
The Tenderness of Love.
These are the Soul of Beauty's frame,
Without whose vital Aid,
Unfinish'd all her Features seem,
And all her Roses dead.
But ah! where both their Charms unite,
How perfect is the View,
With ev'ry Image of Delight,
With Graces ever new.
Of Pow'r to charm the greatest Woe,
The wildest Rage controul,
Diffusing Mildness o'er the Brow,
And Rapture thro' the Soul.
Their Pow'r but faintly to express,
All Language must despair,
But go behold
Arpasia's
Face,
And read it perfect there.
poem by Mark Akenside
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Anne of Snow
Unalterable she is, my Anne of snow;
Of winter laughs and aves in modes of white;
Her love conceivable and face to glow.
For always feeling of her mirth and flow;
Orison's company betimes forthright;
Unalterable she is, my Anne of snow.
What is important to keep tight, and stow
Ghost nuptial forms of Sunday's blue shore bight,
Her love conceivable and face to glow.
In silence comes, snow's pure to bestow;
my winter's sole adviser dreams benight;
Unalterable she is, my Anne of snow.
White blanket to descend, a silent flow;
The sovereign of woods, in wordless rite;
Her love conceivable and face to glow.
Retention of her intellect to show,
Perceptual is her entity and plight;
Unalterable she is, my Anne of snow;
Her love conceivable and face to glow.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Snow White Transparent
“Mirror… Mirror…”
Snow White stops
Looks down at
Her hand
Perfectly pale
Unblemished
Young and
Innocent
But damned
So damned
The wicked
Woman knew
Smiled and knew
“This is what you want”
Hands her the
Apple, poisoned
And red
No one knew
That Snow White
Knew, knew
The Truth
No one
Suspects her
Not Snow White
Pure, perfect
Snow White
“Mirror… Mirror…”
A brush bristles
Through her hair
Snow White looks
At her reflection
In the Mirror
Her mirror
The Wicked
Woman’s mirror
Snow White’s
Image smiles
Sadly at her
No hope left
“On the wall…”
He comes in
Princely in
His ways
Snow White does
Not look at
Him, not at him
Oh no
She cannot
She resents him
It is not apples
That are poisoned
But lips
“Snow…? ”
Without words
She undresses
Revealing glorious
Pale body
His to touch
Snow White
Watches his hands
Lower and closes
Her eyes
This is not love
Love is not—
Love is
“Seven little men…”
She falls into the
Dark corners of
Her mind
Where poison
Still chokes her
And there is
Nothing but
Death and silence
Oh, for the silence
Snow White turns
To look at The Mirror
And asks:
“Who is fairest of them all? ”
poem by Elizabeth Rebel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cathedral Wall
Curl up tight into a ball
Curl my body against the soil
Staring up here
At the cathedral wall
I will sleep tonight
Be a baby
Forget it all
Be a baby
Watch the quiet stones
Massive friend
Cathedral wall
I will sleep tonight
A mother to the living
A mother to the dead
Silent as the moonlight
I come to lay my head
And I won't know you
Anymore
The peckish evening rolls once more
Into the ravenous night
Of hunger pains
That keep our troubled souls awake
We are forbidden to explain
A mother to the living
A mother to the dead
My ghost will drink the moonlight
Magic stones
My heart and bones
And I won't know you
Anymore
She's cold
She knows me
Cathedral wall
She's cold
She shows
I borrow
Keep away
Keep you away my love, my love
And pray I might sleep tonight
The violence of my heartbeat
The violence of the blood
I will sleep with the cathedral
And, one day, you'll give up
And I will love you
But I won't know you
Anymore
My frenzied and exhausted mind
Will somehow find a way
To leave you for a time
Condemned to lieing
And lying awake
[These chains are all your own
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wicked
I only have so long to make a safe place for you
I can twist my fingers in and build another one
Look through this face and find it
Let the hands of the Man guide it
When I put you through this...
When I put you through this you'll need me
Oh, suffer to be mine
I wanna be cruel to be kind
I'll get inside your head
Live so hard you'll wish you were dead, yeah
A touch of the WICKED
I can't help living for you, I wish I could climb inside you
Slip you on like a second skin and be another one
You'll live forever with me
You can have another soul and rape me
When I step into this...
When I step into this you'll be me
Oh, suffer to be mine
I wanna be cruel to be kind
I'll get inside your head
Live so hard you'll wish you were dead, yeah
A touch of the WICKED
You feel so tight around me- I don't wanna be the man I must be
I raise my arms and grip my head- cuz I'm seein' RED
I'll take good care of you, love
I could never ever love you enough
When I get to use this...
When I get to use this, it's OVER!!
Oh, suffer to be mine
I wanna be cruel to be kind
I'll get inside your head
Live so hard you'll wish you were dead, yeah
A touch of the WICKED
Wicked!!!
song performed by by Stone Sour
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everlasting Gaze
You know I'm not dead
Now you know where I've been
As you sleep
Torn I am
Weighted down
Patiently
Born of love
You know I'm not dead
I'm just living in my head
Forever waiting
On the ways of your desire
You always find a way
And thru it all
Into us all you move
Forgotten touch
Forbidden thought
We can never have enough
You know I'm not dead
Found below
The creatures scream
Stranglehold
A god machine
Begging to
Tear us out
Worn as hope
You know I'm not dead I'm just the tears inside your head
Forever waiting
On the ways of your desire
You always find a way
And thru it all into us all you move
Forgotten touch
Forbidden thought
We can never have enough
You know I'm not dead
We all want to hold in the everlasting gaze
Enchanted in the rapture of his sentimental sway
But underneath the wheels lie the skulls of every c.o.g.
The fickle fascination of an everlasting god
You know I'm not dead
I'm just living in my head
Forever waiting
Forever waiting on cruel death
You know I'm not dead
I'm just living for myself
Forever waiting
You know I'm not dead
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soul On Fire
Theres a flame that leads our souls astray
No ones safe from its tender touch of pain
And every day its looking for new slaves
To celebrate the beauty of the grave
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverance
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
And again were falling for disgrace
And hate will shelter us from the rain
We are enslaved by the sacred heart of shame
And gently raped by the light of day
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverence
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
Addicted to our divine despair
(? )
But you will follow us to death
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverence
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
With a soul on
Soul on
Soul on
Fire
Soul on fire
song performed by by H.i.m. (his Infernal Majesty)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soul On Fire
There's a flame that leads our souls astray
No one's safe from its tender touch of pain
And every day it's looking for new slaves
To celebrate the beauty of the grave
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverance
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
And again we're falling for disgrace
And hate will shelter us from the rain
We are enslaved by the sacred heart of shame
And gently raped by the light of day
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverence
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
Addicted to our divine despair
The venom of the cross we bear
The guilt will follow us to death
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverence
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
With a soul on
Soul on
Soul on
Fire
Soul on fire
song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Are We Living For?
As I walk near a watery sea
A face with no features pleads to me
Come forth, come forth to within my womb
And share what beauties here within loom
But I turn back as darkness falls
Back to the light that guides and calls
Back to what the torment of life
With it scruples and ever growing strife
Back to the living not yet dead
To take thorns to make my bed
Back to the hate, hell and lies
That call with every sunrise
Back to what I ask again
To a world where no ones a friend
To a world where people call your name
And when they do you feel ashamed
I would be better off drowned
In this watery grave I’ve found
But wait, what are we living for?
Is love our only goal
If so I give my heart and soul
To find the one I cherish most of all
The one who’s name I’m proud to call
Is this what we are living for?
poem by David Harris
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Lights Out
Last lights out
Theyre all abed
And somethings in my room
Creeping down towards me on the wall
Daddy said its just some flickering
Headlight through the gloom
Making shapes through trees outside the hall
But what the hell does he know?
He doesnt feel the dread
The cold restricting terror in the dark
Ive seen that silhouette before
Something the newsman said
Something about some monster in the park
Chorus:
Its you, youre the man on the tv screen
Its you front page face of the dead
Locked up in the light of day
At night come out to play
To terrorize me there above my bed
The air is still and heavy now
Theres thunder in the sky
Hes dreaming up some message he can send
Im scared completely helpless
And I think Im going to cry
Are grownups brave or do they just pretend?
His face is growing clearer
I can see his eyes glow red
My teddy bears the only friend I can feel
The shadows hand slips down the wall
And touches teddys head
I now suspect that shadow will touch me
Chorus
Repeat chorus
Its you...
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Impression de Nuit ( London )
See what a mass of gems the city wears
Upon her broad live bosom! row on row
Rubies and emeralds and amethysts glow.
See! that huge circle like a necklace, stares
With thousands of bold eyes to heaven, and dares
The golden stars to dim the lamps below,
And in the mirror of the mire I know
The moon has left her image unawares.
That's the great town at night: I see her breasts,
Pricked out with lamps they stand like huge black towers.
I think they move! I hear her panting breath.
And that's her head where the tiara rests.
And in her brain, through lanes as dark as death,
Men creep like thoughts...The lamps are like pale flowers
poem by Lord Alfred Douglas
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The Very Image - To Rene Magritte
An image of my grandmother
her head appearing upside-down upon a cloud
the cloud transfixed on the steeple
of a deserted railway-station
far away
An image of an aqueduct
with a dead crow hanging from the first arch
a modern-style chair from the second
a fir-tree lodged in the third
and the whole scene sprinkled with snow
An image of a piano-tuner
with a basket of prawns on his shoulder
and a firescreen under his arm
his moustache made of clay-clotted twigs
and his cheeks daubed with wine
An image of an aeroplane
the propellor is rashers of bacon
the wings are of reinforced lard
the tail is made of paper-clips
the pilot is a wasp
An image of the painter
with his left hand in a bucket
and his right hand stroking a cat
as he lies in bed
with a stone beneath his head
And all these images
and many others
are arranged like waxworks
in model bird-cages
about six inches high.
poem by David Gascoyne
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