Afterglow
I fall into the green pools of your eyes
once again
like crimson tipped rose petals into a violent stream
rushed away from sensibility
holding this moment spent with you
for eternity
I raise my hand in a fist
To my mouth
biting knuckles to test reality
as if this time ending has never begun
and when I turn to you
you are still with me and we are
naked beneath sweating sheets
wearing bodies we’ve never seen
until now
me and you in incandescent truth
of years which have pinioned
and ground against us
like water against rocks in a stream
leaving us dull and pale
but for this while we pretend
the bed is a pyre which has consumed us
we are two embers fading in the darkness
poem by George Murdock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
x13-The Petals Shall Fall
(I suggest you read first the 'COLD WATERS'.2nd poem of DEAD PETALS)
-Dylan Blayne-
My heart pained the very first moment
that I looked into your eyes.
How I want to take that sorrow away,
to turn it to the skies…
why, the moment I saw you,
how I long to take your heart.
Though I rushed to pluck petals
to wipe away your fears…
you’re gone as though you’re drowned with your tears.
I knocked at your door,
But there was no answer.
I entered as a strange feeling
rushed through me deeper.
I called after you but all I heard
was rushing waters.
And so I looked for it and found you
Dead with tears.
I never had the time to question why…
or wipe your tears with petals by and by.
I saw the words you wrote before your bed…
‘the petals shall fall and the waters shall flow’,
how I wish I’d better be dead!
Blood flowed like water with your tears;
I wonder if I could carry this memory
for all the coming years.
I think you’re right, the petals shall fall…
and I guess I’m too late
to have you after all.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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I Carry a Single Rose
I carry a single red Rose
In my tightening hold
For Love is what it propose
At least it’s what I’m told.
It’s fragrance of beauty
Overtakes me with its great power
The air all around me
When I hold a single flower
I grasp the Red Rose ever more tight
Drip, drip red petals fall into the night.
This Rose, a lovely delight
Has already consumed my sense of smell
Now it has stolen my sight
In this symbol of love I dwell
The ruby red petals fill my eyes
Captures the thoughts in my mind
Now I am completely hypnotized
Now I am completely blind.
I grasp the Red Rose ever more tight
Drip, drip red petals fall into the night.
It dazzles me, until it is all I can see
It’s touch so gentle against my cheek
Trapped me inside this beautiful make believe
For my heart, Love it will always seek
The leaves run through my finger tip
As they map a stem so strong and tall
A stem that fit so nicely inside my grip
Its lushes strength adds beauty to it all
I grasp the Red Rose ever more tight
Drip, drip red petals fall into the night.
I hold on for dear life
As my body sets off painful alarms
And now I’m stuck in this strife
Of letting go and hanging on
It’s so perfect, inside my hold
But I can feel the world around me
I can feel it growing cold
Now I am leaving this make believe
I grasp the Red Rose ever more tight
Drip, drip red petals fall into the night.
In a moment of true disgust
I slowly loosen my grasp
And I take away my trust
And wait for my world to collapse
But Pain races through my bones
So I clench a Rose inside my fist
And I realize I am alone
Lost inside this confusing mist
I grasp the Red Rose ever more tight
Drip, drip red petals fall into the night.
And I finally swiftly let go
The Rose falls to the bloody ground
No longer shall my blood flow
No longer shall I be bound
And of this single Red Rose
Petals of Love blinded me to my Pain
Being neither friend nor foe
I wash the blood with tears like rain.
I leave the Rose with all my might
Run, run into the black cold night.
Green-Water Stream
To reach the Yellow-Flowered River
Go by the Green-Water Stream.
A thousand twists and turns of mountain
But the way there can’t be many miles.
The sound of water falling over rocks
And deep colour among pines.
Gently green floating water-plants.
Bright the mirrored reeds and rushes.
I am a lover of true quietness.
Watching the flow of clear water
I dream of sitting on the uncarved rock
casting a line on the endless stream.
poem by Wang Wei
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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0004 Lyric 3: Rosefall
O, what is the song this late, late rose is singing?
where will its petals fall, pale orange-yellow rose?
when shall the breeze and the rose cease laughing, dancing,
when will the raindrops bring time, and loss, and tears?
who wrote the song that the rose is singing, singing,
who painted petals on this fleeting rose?
when did the breeze discover dancing, dancing,
with roses that fade and fall in loss and time and tears?
after the rosefall, a colder breeze is blowing,
rose petals lie in drifts upon the ground;
but the breeze remembers, wintering red rose-hips, sowing
the rose’s spring and singing; remembering rose’s sound..
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Kashmiri Song
Pale hands I love beside the Shalimar,
Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell?
Whom do you lead on Rapture's roadway, far,
Before you agonise them in farewell?
Oh, pale dispensers of my Joys and Pains,
Holding the doors of Heaven and of Hell,
How the hot blood rushed wildly through the veins
Beneath your touch, until you waved farewell.
Pale hands, pink tipped, like Lotus buds that float
On those cool waters where we used to dwell,
I would have rather felt you round my throat,
Crushing out life, than waving me farewell!
poem by Laurence Hope
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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March 26, 1974
R.Frost 100th B'day
The air was soft, the ground still cold.
In wet dull pastures where I strolled
Was something I could not believe.
Dead grass appeared to slide and heave,
Though still too frozen-flat to stir,
And rocks to twitch, and all to blur.
What was this rippling of the land?
Was matter getting out of hand
And making free with natural law?
I stopped and blinked, and then I saw
A fact as eerie as a dream.
There was a subtle flood of stream
Moving upon the face of things.
It came from standing pools and springs
And what of snow was still around;
It came of winter's giving ground
So that the freeze was coming out,
As when a set mind, blessed by doubt,
Relaxes into mother-wit.
Flowers, I said, will come of it.
poem by Richard Wilbur
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Burnout
The lifeless flutter of dull eyes defies the cries that defy the mountains that rise
The bird has flown, and the fuel tank's blown. As now the greatest enemy we find is our own
The powerful guns now fall under. The cannons cease to thunder. We behold and wonder, as we slip under
Smoke, it's scent burns our senses, as we feel a collapse of our defences because of our to inevitable lapses.
The source has run out, and we've done what we could. The fire has run out of wood and we've done all we could.
After all the adrenalin has rushed through. When reality hits you. When fall apart is all you can do but you don't want to.
The eyes now have dark rims. You feel like there's a bottomless hole that you're falling in, all the while, playing on circus rings.
You no longer can rise to meet the challenge but bend beneath and can barely defend. Right now, you think you have reached the end.
Insomniacs make for maniacs, you pushed yourself out into your balancing act and now there's no way to get back.
Watch as the icy cold embers die, the fall of an empire. Watch as you find yourself falling off the balancing wire
Your hands cannot, will not raise to save you from your fate. Their guns, no longer with energy quake. They are no longer awake.
When every bit of energy has been consumed, when all resources have been exhumed. When all that's left is ruin's fumes.
What once was alive, now lies down and wonders how that inside him died. Wondering where everyone went who he did once confide.
Burnout.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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The lost Key
the air tells the wind when to fly, the stone
hold the mountain to stop and the night call
the darkness to shine the star above beyond
the universe, as envy entangle the galaxy
hangs on the heaven best of creation
watered me the distance of your heart and
push the every cloud near to my wondering
soul; the beginning of where the roots of
fading courage as it lose every glorious
moment of the past joy and happiness you
give
ever change the time that you'll with me in a
dream of reality, back then and try again
waiting not the magic of a real friend, may be
this is the time that love wouldn't end and
maybe it is you who'll take my heart
as you fill my life tonight, glows of darkness
flows in a dawning dream of every dreams,
an awakening stream of lonely years from
whom you want to hold ever more in every
moment of time, till love never ends
key my day and hold my heart......waiting the
season of moment to come and carried me
in your arm of forgiveness
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dancing Under The Pale Moonlight
I want to dance with you under the pale moonlight,
I want to see beyond the dark and embrace the light,
Under the heavens we dance in the darkness of night,
I want to dance with you under the pale moonlight,
I want to take your hand and together we can embrace the stars,
Because with you the world is ours,
I want to take your hand and hold it into mine,
I want to take you into the realm of paradise that lies inside my mind,
Together we dance in a land non relative to the dread of shortened time,
Up in the pale heavens, together in the form of stars forever we’ll shine,
In the darkness of reality I want to make u mine,
So take my hand and close your eyes as we enter the land of sublime,
Take my hand and let’s dance forever and ever,
For happiness in eternity lasts in the most the discrete endeavor,
From the burden of reality take my hand and close your and let the divide sever,
Ease your mind into mine and let’s be free forever.
poem by Kurt Kacich
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Truth And Falsehood. A Tale
Once on a time, in sunshine weather,
Falsehood and Truth walk'd out together,
The neighbouring woods and lawns to view,
As opposites will sometimes do:
Through many a blooming mead they pass'd,
And at a brook arrived at last:
The purling stream, the margin green,
With flowers bedeck'd, a vernal scene,
Invited each itinerant maid
To rest a while beneath the shade;
Under a spreading beech they sat,
And pass'd the time with female chat;
While each her thoughts, the other feign'd.
At length, quoth Falsehood, Sister Truth,
For so she call'd her from her youth,
What if, to shun yon sultry beam,
We bathe in this delightful stream,
The bottom smooth, the water clear,
And there's no prying shepherd near?
With all my heart, the nymph replied,
And threw her snowy robes aside,
Stripp'd herself naked to the skin,
And with a spring leapp'd headlong in.
Falsehood more leisurely undress'd,
And laying by her tawdry vest,
Trick'd herself out in Truth's array,
And cross the meadows tripp'd away.
From this cursed hour the fraudful dame
Of sacred Truth usurps the name,
And with a vile perfidious mind
Roams far and near to cheat mankind;
False sighs suborns, and artful tears,
And starts with vain pretended fears,
In visits vain still appears most wise,
And rolls at church her saint-like eyes;
Talks very much, plays idle tricks,
While rising stock her conscience pricks;
When being, poor thing, extremely gravell'd,
She secrets ope'd, and all unravell'd.
But on she will, and secrets tell
Of John and Joan, and Ned and Nell,
Reviling every one she knows,
As fancy leads, beneath the rose.
Her tongue so voluble and kind
It always runs before her mind;
As times do serve she slily pleads,
And copious tears still show her needs,
With promises as thick as weeds -
Speaks pro and con, is wondrous civil,
To-day a saint, to-morrow devil.
Poor Truth she stripp'd, as has been said,
And naked left the lovely maid,
Who, scorning from her cause to wince,
Has gone stark naked ever since,
And ever naked will appear,
Beloved by all who Truth revere.
poem by Matthew Prior
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Carpe Diem
actually my dear, the most that matters is
now. This is the moment. There is no other.
what is inside my palm is not yours to guess
for i may not follow your wish
your dream, what is here inside me is alive
but only for this moment, there is no time to think
or imagine. This is only the moment. The now.
This is the only moment. It is now.
Hold my hand. As we pass the river of our lives.
Do not look back, as the rush of the water may be
too harsh. Look at my eyes. This is the only moment.
Do not look down at your feet. The water is flowing.
And flowing. There is nothing that you can hold
with your fingers and drink. It is and it will be impossible
to grasp, a past reality, a future possibility.
This is the only moment.This is the only truth. Grab it
with both hands and tell me. Now, is the only truth. This
moment of our lives. You hear the sound of a cascade.
That is what we are now.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fingertips
Youre sliding down a dream, o yea. where nights are born in blue, thats the truth. youre swimming in a stream, o yea. fish are jumping too, next to you.
Suddenly you notice someones at the door, you could swear youve been through this all before.
Then she runs her fingertips through your hair. your life has just begun. her fingers, they are everywhere. youre floating light like air, leaving the ground and she shines on just like the sun
Youre gazing at the sky, o my. the stars are out tonight, shining bright. youre waving to a cloud, bye-bye. youre drowning in the smile of his eyes. suddenly you feel theres no time for a de
Ough a voice tells you its for real.
And she runs her fingertips through your hair and life has just begun. her fingers, there and everywhere. youre floating light like air, leaving the ground. she-she shines on just like the sun.
Its just a sunny afternoon. somebodys singing songs of love, child. you love a lazy afternoon once in a while.
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Deep in my heart
as the waves conquer, the ocean floor, and the water kisses
the river stream, the joy that lingers in my twinkling heart, makes
my whispering soul, to rejoice in your soul
you who lived with me amidst of a miserable world, wins my heart,
to go where it takes, live where it ends and conquer where i stand,
waves all the struggle that echo in a distance land, for my dream,
would never be the same
leave me not, for my life will lives only with you, believe what i see
not in every wilderness you find light, not even memories to
remember that life we live is but a dream to forget, just hold on
in my shadow for i will make you live
iam not a god nor you a little god, where every angels live, yet! the
wisdom of time, reveals the essence of life, that holding me is to live
with you, its a space between space that will make you survive to
where your life live
time as time past bye, every moment lift is our to share, it is a
parting good bye, that in darkness of the sky, the firefly illuminate
the infinite shadow of what meant to love you, leaving the pangs
of death
my heart believes the pristine breath that you give, a heart that
creates something that only you can give, a revealing you, where
everything comes into being, an incense of eternity begins
hold me close, and i will take you there, to the yell of hearts, to the
dream of reality, a joy that last forever, to the afterlife where we
begin and always trust my heart that beneath the wings, we will
pass the dawning rays of joy..... thank you and i love you
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am a Violent Man
Oh, we scratch
I bite, you claw
The most arresting violence I have ever known
Takes place between these sheets of ours
As you growl
As I lash out
A stream of fire
I am a violent man, tonight
I am consumed by love
And lust
By love and lust for you...
Hair is pulled
Skin gets grazed
As we beat against the wall
As this takes place between us
You murmur, drunk
Senses highened and alive
As I spit out
A shower of crackling sparks
Oh!
I am a violent man, tonight
I am birthed again
In love and in lust
For you
In love and lust for you...
poem by B. Alexander (2008)
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Sword of the Spirit
find always the way to fuse the time in the
memory of what is genuine, neither the season
of the beginning dew welcome the horizon
of the infinite reality of being
let the flower bloom in what is the given
memory of each birth, all have just come the
wonderful day of what is today, see the hold
on movement of what the wonderful stream
the river full
gallops the sky, for the rain waited to long, the
weathering flower has fall into the ground and
rejuvenate the meaning of life, stay where the
olden passion of the heart, for what meant to
be with you tell forever, looks forward the
ending of what thirst in a given time
ending have nothing to say the beginning of
every fog in early morning ……
poem by Antonio Liao
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Milky Tears
As the creek wherein I lay began to overflow
I looked upon the waterfall that poured like milky cream
And let the tender milkmaid fill the shallow, naked Earth
And pour onto the river, a quiet, gentle stream
And as my body sharply bent to sit atop the rocks
Under the cool of water stringy in its wavy trail
My eyes froze very sharply, like an iceberg in the sea
And in a bow and eyebrow rest, I began to wail
And as the dew falls off the crimson roses
So did my tears dropp in the winding lake
And only joy did dropp into the silky liquid
For only beauty did my eyes intake
poem by Sasha Ioffine
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The Dying Rose
Once so beautiful, freshly cut, a single rose stands
encompassed by succulent green leaves and proud standing thorns
petite white gypsum surrounds this expression of love
the tall slender rose vase holds the water for life
Words of appreciation are given as eyes drink in the vista before them
scented perfume fills and stimulates heightened senses
colors of red, green and virgin white stimulate the eyes
As all things that live, so all things must die in their turn
rose petals shrivel and loose the lustre if red
succulent green leaves whither, turn brown and die
virgin petite gypsum wilts and becomes a dirty used white.
Water discolors to a slimy foul smelling green
the once beautiful is now the 'Dying Rose.'
When did it start to die?
When it was cut off from its source of life.
poem by Ruth warren
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Fish And Shadow
The salmon-trout drifts in the stream,
The soul of the salmon-trout floats over the stream
Like a little wafer of light.
The salmon moves in the sun-shot, bright shallow sea. . . .
As light as the shadow of the fish
that falls through the water,
She came into the large room by the stair,
Yawning a little she came with the sleep still upon her.
'I am just from bed. The sleep is still in my eyes.
'Come. I have had a long dream.'
And I: That wood?
'And two springs have passed us.'
'Not so far, no, not so far now,
There is a place but no one else knows it
A field in a valley . . .
Qu'ieu sui avinen,
Ieu lo sai,'
She must speak of the time
Of Arnaut de Mareuil, I thought, 'qu'ieu sui avinen.’
Light as the shadow of the fish
That falls through the pale green water.
poem by Ezra Pound
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My if world
Escaping to the if world, where everything is possible
Changing my reality and live the impossible
Waving my magic stick so every wish come true
Sprinkling the fairy dust, believing this magic will do
Smelling vanilla scent, I reach imagination land
Here with my illusion beyond what you understand
In if world where puppets come to life
Where nymphs on rivers waiting to take a dive
Through this new frame of vision where everything is bright
I see smiles all around shinning in the light
Through this rose coloured glass lens where everything shines and glows
I see boys and girls waiting thier turns in the long adventure rows
In this blue horizon where all the ground is green
That's only seperated by the quiet water streams
I wave my magic stick and sprinkle the fairy dust
To spread the white hope, , that in here is a must
I wipe away all tears from the crying faces
Healing all the broken promises that were once taken
In the if world, wearing your skin alone makes you complete
Everything in here you own, there is nothing else you need
Where all the boys are kings and all the girls are queens
Wearing purple gowns, daring the time stream
If you ever needed me just call out my name
In imagination land you will find me on a task of building a way
That will connect the fantasy world to reality where you live
Reality that can be changed with the power of the word if
poem by Manar Mostafa
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The Year of the Rose
From the depths of the green garden-closes
Where the summer in darkness dozes
Till autumn pluck from his hand
An hour-glass that holds not a sand;
From the maze that a flower-belt encloses
To the stones and sea-grass on the strand
How red was the reign of the roses
Over the rose-crowned land!
The year of the rose is brief;
From the first blade blown to the sheaf,
From the thin green leaf to the gold,
It has time to be sweet and grow old,
To triumph and leave not a leaf
For witness in winter's sight
How lovers once in the light
Would mix their breath with its breath,
And its spirit was quenched not of night,
As love is subdued not of death.
In the red-rose land not a mile
Of the meadows from stile to stile,
Of the valleys from stream to stream,
But the air was a long sweet dream
And the earth was a sweet wide smile
Red-mouthed of a goddess, returned
From the sea which had borne her and burned,
That with one swift smile of her mouth
Looked full on the north as it yearned,
And the north was more than the south.
For the north, when winter was long,
In his heart had made him a song,
And clothed it with wings of desire,
And shod it with shoon as of fire,
To carry the tale of his wrong
To the south-west wind by the sea,
That none might bear it but he
To the ear of the goddess unknown
Who waits till her time shall be
To take the world for a throne.
In the earth beneath, and above
In the heaven where her name is love,
She warms with light from her eyes
The seasons of life as they rise,
And her eyes are as eyes of a dove,
But the wings that lift her and bear
As an eagle's, and all her hair
As fire by the wind's breath curled,
And her passage is song through the air,
And her presence is spring through the world.
So turned she northward and came,
And the white-thorn land was aflame
With the fires that were shed from her feet,
That the north, by her love made sweet,
Should be called by a rose-red name;
And a murmur was heard as of doves,
And a music beginning of loves
In the light that the roses made,
Such light as the music loves,
The music of man with maid.
But the days drop one upon one,
And a chill soft wind is begun
In the heart of the rose-red maze
That weeps for the roseleaf days
And the reign of the rose undone
That ruled so long in the light,
And by spirit, and not by sight,
Through the darkness thrilled with its breath,
Still ruled in the viewless night,
As love might rule over death.
The time of lovers is brief;
From the fair first joy to the grief
That tells when love is grown old,
From the warm wild kiss to the cold,
From the red to the white-rose leaf,
They have but a season to seem
As rose-leaves lost on a stream
That part not and pass not apart
As a spirit from dream to dream,
As a sorrow from heart to heart.
From the bloom and the gloom that encloses
The death-bed of Love where he dozes
Till a relic be left not of sand
To the hour-glass that breaks in his hand;
From the change in the grey garden-closes
To the last stray grass of the strand,
A rain and ruin of roses
Over the red-rose land.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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