A Thing Of Beauty
A thing of beauty fails in the subdue light,
And before revelation sorrow takes the place
Of the breath of life, with seasons changing swift,
We follow the flight from beginning to the end.
And find again the heart of another brighter summer,
Display a thing of beauty hanging in heaven,
The excitement outstretch with blessings.
In Yorkshire, time moves more slowly by great force,
Than the gales that blow in the busy cities of London,
Searching the shops for things to make people happy,
Time and chance opportunity stirs hostility everywhere,
Within the soul comes murmuring from every town,
Requiring the gold we earn by pleasure spurned.
They lift their voices for heroes and fans to loudly cheer.
The youths loitering till late on darker streets,
The silence of paradise is broken dead leaves falling.
Rustle within the vale, the sound of a strange heroic tale,
Hostility gives chase and trouble engages lawless men.
The spectra of dominance cramp in narrow streets
Police and thieves behind shields make their den,
That midnight mealy flowed between anger and frustration
No good voice was there to stop the banging drum.
Sorrow beat the heart deep sound as a nightmare,
In an awful dream, baffled beleaguered government,
Watch in disbelief hostility played out on the streets,
While they clasp their hands and wait for the mist to lift,
Youths with hooded tops, caps and trainers go on the run.
Planned discreet games and making mocking noises,
When the cathedral bell toll it will tell the awful story
That society has failed; if this is the only heritage.
Then the shuffling future looks bleaker and further away,
Than the unemployed on the streets where I live,
Proclaiming morning, evening and night time prayers,
The ghostly host of spirit breaks far into the air,
With a rushing wave like a trouble army on sentry pace,
Even the solemn church bells could not stop,
Phantom cars driving along over hump back roads.
Yorkshire was a thing of beauty, picturesque
History making the benign heritage we have.
Policemen stop the youths and question them,
I am kin to the dilemma that is taking place,
and here I pine between these narrow streets,
Wishing for a better life than the one I behold.
History in making will tell a different story,
From a hidden agenda truth will not be known,
Most will believe a lie, and practice deception.
What a tribulation, chaos and confusion.
And Yorkshire smoke will hide all the fears,
We only the faint glimpses of future years,
and sad tears began dripping from mine eyes,
Into a silent prayer for the children of tomorrow,
And Heaven knows the pain of my heart,
Yorkshire too will bath in the blood of sorrow.
But in picturesque villages are some good things,
that lie unseen below the clouds and the skies,
Where free bird soars as angels spread their wings
A thing of beauty glow in the sun, moon, and stars.
A blanket to cover the saints from evil all devices,
And protect them from the snare of the fowler
And noisome pestilence that walks at noonday.
God looks out at the night upon the houses,
From out of the heavenly skies, he can see in the dark,
Hear our speech, see our tears, and know our years.
When the dew is dried and morning rain seemed stark
I know the way to mount Zion, after church of God,
And Wesleyans looking back at what they had,
Long ago left on the sidewalk where dogs walk,
Narrow minds looking for joy than cannot be found,
Puzzle by the strangest art sometimes they bark,
Unnecessarily at people they don't like meddling.
On path the police find emptiness driving around,
In cozy cars breaking traffic lights on radon call,
Hour by hour the tribulation trauma starts to creeps in
Upon the Yorkshire moors finding more squally rain
And the peace we have dream about in the countryside
Can be found in the cities of Leeds and York,
Save in the splendor of our dreams, when the wit is in
The pleasure of intoxication creeps slowly out
and we behold the ramifications not in its full glory
For in time of recovery desire surely will come again
unto young men and women looking like half dress fairy
Slowly sinking into a dismal realm.
Behind the hills; with the smoke going higher into the air
And the dead depart to heaven go above the white trees
Glimmering in the starlight: they join other waiting ghosts
from life they had been we will know them no more.
Sometimes the cold wind that rises in the dead of night
suddenly sweeps inward from scarbough to York
rustling the heather on Ilkley moors with a weeping voice
Whistling through the blackness with mournful wail,
Echoing at evening from the Yorkshire foot hills.
In many joyless homes relationships are broken,
Children home alone, left with dogs and cuddling cats
Seek comfort when fathers are absent or dropp in unseen.
In Yorkshire life was honey sweet burst into bloom
We hear the sweetest tune played in the stillness at even
And the melody goes out with the shadows at night
Surrounded by hopeful anticipation of divine favor
The stars covet our lowly existence and soon the towns,
Burst with riotous living even the corners of quiet valleys,
Are not spared the trauma fast fall the troublesome seal,
And many voices lament for these things to go away.
From that love country all that has been violate,
A thing of beauty I found in churches where I pray
Happy days have seen the lamp burns with bright glow.
Yorkshire was the valley of my paradise, unstrained delight,
By the familiar path I have walked, to find again my dream?
In the garden of lilies' and roses formed bright,
In Yorkshire once before, I met some heavenly friends,
And society had stolen a part of my heart,
I only hear their names now and again.
poem by Gerry Legister
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
In London
When I look out on London's teeming streets,
On grim grey houses, and on leaden skies,
My courage fails me, and my heart grows sick,
And I remember that fair heritage
Barter'd by me for what your London gives.
This is not Nature's city: I am kin
To whatsoever is of free and wild,
And here I pine between these narrow walls,
And London's smoke hides all the stars from me,
Light from mine eyes, and Heaven from my heart.
For in an island of those Southern seas
That lie behind me, guarded by the Cross
That looks all night from out our splendid skies,
I know a valley opening to the East.
There, hour by hour, the lazy tide creeps in
Upon the sands I shall not pace again --
Save in a dream, -- and, hour by hour, the tide
Creeps lazily out, and I behold it not,
Nor the young moon slow sinking to her rest
Behind the hills; nor yet the dead white trees
Glimmering in the starlight: they are ghosts
Of what has been, and shall be never more.
No, never more!
Nor shall I hear again
The wind that rises at the dead of night
Suddenly, and sweeps inward from the sea,
Rustling the tussock, nor the wekas' wail
Echoing at evening from the tawny hills.
In that deserted garden that I lov'd
Day after day, my flowers drop unseen;
And as your Summer slips away in tears,
Spring wakes our lovely Lady of the Bush,
The Kowhai, and she hastes to wrap herself
All in a mantle wrought of living gold;
Then come the birds, who are her worshippers,
To hover round her; tuis swift of wing,
And bell-birds flashing sudden in the sun,
Carolling: Ah! what English nightingale,
Heard in the stillness of a summer eve,
From out the shadow of historic elms,
Sings sweeter than our Bell-bird of the Bush?
And Spring is here: now the Veronica,
Our Koromiko, whitens on the cliff,
The honey-sweet Manuka buds, and bursts
In bloom, and the divine Convolvulus,
Most fair and frail of all our forest flowers,
Stars every covert, running riotous.
O quiet valley, opening to the East,
How far from this thy peacefulness am I!
Ah me, how far! and far this stream of Life
From thy clear creek fast falling to the sea!
Yet let me not lament that these things are
In that lov'd country I shall see no more;
All that has been is mine inviolate,
Lock'd in the secret book of memory.
And though I change, my valley knows no change.
And when I look on London's teeming streets,
On grim grey houses, and on leaden skies,
When speech seems but the babble of a crowd,
And music fails me, and my lamp of life
Burns low, and Art, my mistress, turns from me, --
Then do I pass beyond the Gate of Dreams
Into my kingdom, walking unconstrained
By ways familiar under Southern skies;
Nor unaccompanied; the dear dumb things
I lov'd once, have their immortality.
There too is all fulfilment of desire:
In this the valley of my Paradise
I find again lost ideals, dreams too fair
For lasting; there I meet once more mine own
Whom Death has stolen, or Life estranged from me, --
And thither, with the coming of the dark,
Thou comest, and the night is full of stars.
poem by Dora Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Yorkshire born and Yorkshire bred, strong in the arm and weak in the head.
Beleaguered City, The
I have read, in some old, marvellous tale,
Some legend strange and vague,
That a midnight host of spectres pale
Beleaguered the walls of Prague.
Beside the Moldau's rushing stream,
With the wan moon overhead,
There stood, as in an awful dream,
The army of the dead.
White as a sea-fog, landward bound,
The spectral camp was seen,
And, with a sorrowful, deep sound,
The river flowed between.
No other voice nor sound was there,
No drum, nor sentry's pace;
The mist-like banners clasped the air,
As clouds with clouds embrace.
But when the old cathedral bell
Proclaimed the morning prayer,
The white pavilions rose and fell
On the alarmed air.
Down the broad valley fast and far
The troubled army fled;
Up rose the glorious morning star,
The ghastly host was dead.
I have read, in the marvellous heart of man,
That strange and mystic scroll,
That an army of phantoms vast and wan
Beleaguer the human soul.
Encamped beside Life's rushing stream,
In Fancy's misty light,
Gigantic shapes and shadows gleam
Portentous through the night.
Upon its midnight battle-ground
The spectral camp is seen,
And, with a sorrowful, deep sound,
Flows the River of Life between.
No other voice nor sound is there,
In the army of the grave;
No other challenge breaks the air,
But the rushing of Life's wave.
And when the solemn and deep churchbell
Entreats the soul to pray,
The midnight phantoms feel the spell,
The shadows sweep away.
Down the broad Vale of Tears afar
The spectral camp is fled;
Faith shineth as a morning star,
Our ghastly fears are dead.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Voices Of The Night : The Beleaguered City
I have read, in some old, marvellous tale,
Some legend strange and vague,
That a midnight host of spectres pale
Beleaguered the walls of Prague.
Beside the Moldau's rushing stream,
With the wan moon overhead,
There stood, as in an awful dream,
The army of the dead.
White as a sea-fog, landward bound,
The spectral camp was seen,
And, with a sorrowful, deep sound,
The river flowed between.
No other voice nor sound was there,
No drum, nor sentry's pace;
The mist-like banners clasped the air,
As clouds with clouds embrace.
But when the old cathedral bell
Proclaimed the morning prayer,
The white pavilions rose and fell
On the alarmed air.
Down the broad valley fast and far
The troubled army fled;
Up rose the glorious morning star,
The ghastly host was dead.
I have read, in the marvellous heart of man,
That strange and mystic scroll,
That an army of phantoms vast and wan
Beleaguer the human soul.
Encamped beside Life's rushing stream,
In Fancy's misty light,
Gigantic shapes and shadows gleam
Portentous through the night.
Upon its midnight battle-ground
The spectral camp is seen,
And, with a sorrowful, deep sound,
Flows the River of Life between.
No other voice nor sound is there,
In the army of the grave;
No other challenge breaks the air,
But the rushing of Life's wave.
And when the solemn and deep churchbell
Entreats the soul to pray,
The midnight phantoms feel the spell,
The shadows sweep away.
Down the broad Vale of Tears afar
The spectral camp is fled;
Faith shineth as a morning star,
Our ghastly fears are dead.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Is Like Heaven To Me
Heaven is where we walk the streets made of gold,
And secrets of our hearts will be told.
The further we go the heavenly sunset we behold
Thinking of heaven where angles are ordained of God
Around the throne eternity is bound,
Wound in celestial mantle our old prayers are found.
Where you will never age, and see sunrise in the dark,
Waiting for the star and the dewy morning light,
Appearing so bright the night is soon forgotten.
Heaven wakes the stations in the entire kingdom,
A new enchantment waiting to be discovered,
A secret world lies between heaven and earth.
Walking daytime if you are immortal full of life,
On earth life is hell; our lives are like empty shell.
We carry misery from early birth to the deep earth,
Belief keeps us looking for heaven in the clouds,
In hope of humane rapture that will give peace.
And take in the dim view; to a place that is new
Where teenagers can dress like linen lilies.
Hiding a sermon you cannot walk to church with,
The sign makes the heart free from the pain of fear.
And the sky above them are laden with smoke,
Dreams which could be paradise move uneasy,
The next day life is different when they awake.
This is like heaven to me with love and dreams,
I will wait patiently until my destiny come.
They see the blue skies above and watch the smoke
Move gently through the clouds away from the crowd,
Gathering storm brings the rain that will quickly fall,
One of Gods messenger touches the Glover grass.
And soon the dark shadows past into the night,
Be reborn in the harvest of heavenly paradise.
On the street where I live there is a ladder to climb
Tall hedges and scented foliage blind the golden sun,
That sweet savor with leaves fluttering in the wind,
Turned the pages as they move below the window pane,
They seemed too changed and turn a different color.
And the heart looses gain and falls apart with pain,
The realm of this world tries to take control,
Angels tells a different story running from heaven.
My mind does not exist among the clouds
When the rain falls, blessings feel like I am forgiven
African violet sometimes your eyes are wet,
But the showers needs to fall on barren hearts,
Places we have been and the things we regret.
poem by Gerry Legister
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heaven & Renaissance in Heaven
Up aloft behind the stars gleam
Heaven's eye on angel's wings
Where in ecstasy in light forever beam
To those who trust in god, god like things
There, children revel in innocent play
In valleys of green and mountains of clouds white'
Never turning dark, and forever day
Like living on a star in dark night
There is no dream for heaven's real
But dreams realized in a soul serene
Its beauty creates a crystalized zeal
Which dictates our will like a heavenly queen
Renaissance in Heaven
A mystic spirit, one sweeps through stars
and gathers all their heavenly light
In far off planets as strange as Mars
My imagination grows, my soul takes flight
Is this heaven whom sleeps in me
Tender love that wets mine eye
To cleanse the sin that I do see
And makes me desire my life to die?
In heaven, in love, my life shall be
With angels pristine as a baby's soul
To heaven, to love, my life with thee
In thine heart, thy heaven lull
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Voices Cryin Out
Voices cryin out, voices cryin out
Voices cryin out in the night hear them call
Voices cryin out hear them call
Its a night
Like no other night
Its a day
Almost turning grey
Its a heart
Like a broken heart
Its a wheel
At the end of day
Its the plight
Of a boy whos scared
Of the waves rushing out
And the wind in the air
Its the sight
Of one longing to taste
Of life
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices from some foreign shore
Visions that seem an incredible dream
Echoing for more
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices crying out hear them call
Its a song
Of a love unsung
Its the pain
Of just being young
Its a cry
Of a voice unheard
Of a face
Speaking silent words
Its the hope
That the time goes by
Take you upon a wing
Teach your soul to fly
Its a wish
That youll live your experience life
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices from some foreign shore
Vision that seem an incredible dream
Echoing for more
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices crying out hear them call
Oh do you know how it feels to be free
Walking your path of life
Embracing destiny one day at a time
Voices cryin out...oh cant you hear them
Voices cryin out...listen please, listen to the future
Voices cryin out...millions and millions and millions of voices
Voices cryin out...oh oh oh oh
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices from some foreign shore
Vision that seem an incredible dream
Echoing for more
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices crying out hear them call
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices from some foreign shore
Vision that seem an incredible dream
Echoing for more
Voices cryin out
Voices cryin out
Voices cryin out...
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Calligraphy of God
Wet ink. Dry paper.
Words in heart.
Eyes focused.
No distractions.
Quiet. Sssh....
You could hear a pin drop.
Silence!
Silent.
Creativity in play.
Ingenuity in motion.
Silent.
See nothing. See everything.
As light pierces darkness.
Focus.1,2,3.
Flame to dust
Dust to man
Man to dust.
Stop.
'It is good', a voice echoes in eternity.
Day by day, I go my way
Man from ape. I close my drape.
Ordinary man, no superman cape.
That's it! , no more rhyme.
Truth be told this life's a mess.
Been through rough, tough, hell and
back.
'What's life's essence? '
So I search.
Then I find Him.
He who sat at the beginning.
Wet ink.
Dry paper.
Loads of questions.
Loads of hate.
Tons of bitterness.
This life's been a wilderness.
'I am The Artist', a voice whispers.
You're my masterpiece
I mend broken pieces
The one who makes beauty from ashes.
The clock ticks life away.
I wake up to a brand new day.
This life's neither brand nor new.
Try screwed!
Now messed up and fessed up by pain
relationships.
All's crashing! Help!
'You need help? ', an acquaintance asks.
'With what? '
'The weight on your shoulders', she
replies.
Walking on. Mind made up. This is it.
It ends tonight.
Beep. Beep. The ECG sounds.
Back on bed. Plastic on face.
O2 in. CO2 out. Eyes pop.
Still alive huh?
Lonely. Ached. Tired.
Broken. Sad. Depressed. Sane/Insane? /
From the salt of the marrow a scream
echoes in eternity.
'Heaven save me! ! ! '
The cold night calls
The tears fall like rain
Wet ink. Wet paper.
I make all things beautiful in its time
A smirk shows.
Ink continues flowing from left to right
Pendulum swings. Time takes flight.
Found Him. Found life.
For while human beings must be known
to be loved,
Divine beings must be loved to be
known.
Mud here. Mud there. Michelangelo's
jealous.
Yellow here. Gray there. Picasso's green
with envy.
Comma here. Dot there. Stephen King
takes a bow.
For love's written a story
And though it be sometimes gory
And life seems to lose it's glory
Take a minute
And picture being the art of the Infinite
The one who's got no limit
Though we run and chase cars
And life's thorns us mars
And sin sometimes takes us far
From Him who does indeed love us more
than everything
Remember this one thing For us He'll do
anything
Even shed the blood of His son
Even make still the sun
Even make me go back to my rhyming
Wow...I did go back to my rhyming!
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Love, Sex and Tagliatelle Taglines.
We love our sex,
Romance,
And television soaps.
Those films, thrillers
Documentaries about nature, animals, children, horses,
Dogs and cats.
God, Death, religion, space;
People, friends and family;
Relationships;
Dreams, hope, heart;
Life;
Thoughts and feelings;
Books, novels, poems and poetry.
Pain and pleasure;
Black and white;
Good and evil;
Food and drink;
And of course,
Italian cuisine.
Celebrities like Beckham,
Federer, Hoy,
Hendrix, Clapton,
Lennon and McCartney.
Yes we love them all
And seek them out,
Whenever we have time.
Pleasure seeking as we surf the net
For those golden holidays
In lands filled with money,
And palmy beaches.
Fantasies fulfilled.
(C) PB Yorkshire,28\2\2009 at 21.30.
poem by Paul Butters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Breaking The Silence
They told me to run, but just how far?
Can I go wearing the black mask of fear?
The hate in my eyes always gives me away
The tension building slowly
Now I lost everything I had in you
Nothing we shared means a thing
Without you close to me
I cant live without you
Breaking the silence of the night
Cant you hear me screaming?
I look for your face in the neon light
You never answer me
Theres no direction to my stare
No more flame burning in my heart anymore
Quiet, I keep it to myself
Until the sun sets slowly
I hear your voice in the evening rain calling
Nothing will keep us apart
No more lies and fear
Theres no end to our story
Breaking the silence of the night
Cant you hear me screaming?
I look for your face in the neon light
You never answer
I could make all the wrong seem right
If you were by my side
Id gather all the tears you cried
And hide them deep underground
Cant look back, its just a waste of time
Cant erase this hate from my eyes
Breaking the silence of the night
Through the streets Im screaming
Looking for you in the neon light
Why dont you answer me?
Breaking the silence with my cries
Cant you hear me screaming?
We could make all this wrong seem right
But you never answer me
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pilgrims
Who is your lady of love, O ye that pass
Singing? and is it for sorrow of that which was
That ye sing sadly, or dream of what shall be?
For gladly at once and sadly it seems ye sing.
--Our lady of love by you is unbeholden;
For hands she hath none, nor eyes, nor lips, nor golden
Treasure of hair, nor face nor form; but we
That love, we know her more fair than anything.
--Is she a queen, having great gifts to give?
--Yea, these; that whoso hath seen her shall not live
Except he serve her sorrowing, with strange pain,
Travail and bloodshedding and bitterer tears;
And when she bids die he shall surely die.
And he shall leave all things under the sky
And go forth naked under sun and rain
And work and wait and watch out all his years.
--Hath she on earth no place of habitation?
--Age to age calling, nation answering nation,
Cries out, Where is she? and there is none to say;
For if she be not in the spirit of men,
For if in the inward soul she hath no place,
In vain they cry unto her, seeking her face,
In vain their mouths make much of her; for they
Cry with vain tongues, till the heart lives again.
--O ye that follow, and have ye no repentance?
For on your brows is written a mortal sentence,
An hieroglyph of sorrow, a fiery sign,
That in your lives ye shall not pause or rest,
Nor have the sure sweet common love, nor keep
Friends and safe days, nor joy of life nor sleep.
--These have we not, who have one thing, the divine
Face and clear eyes of faith and fruitful breast.
--And ye shall die before your thrones be won.
--Yea, and the changed world and the liberal sun
Shall move and shine without us, and we lie
Dead; but if she too move on earth and live,
But if the old world with all the old irons rent
Laugh and give thanks, shall we be not content?
Nay, we shall rather live, we shall not die,
Life being so little and death so good to give.
--And these men shall forget you.--Yea, but we
Shall be a part of the earth and the ancient sea,
And heaven-high air august, and awful fire,
And all things good; and no man's heart shall beat
But somewhat in it of our blood once shed
Shall quiver and quicken, as now in us the dead
Blood of men slain and the old same life's desire
Plants in their fiery footprints our fresh feet.
--But ye that might be clothed with all things pleasant,
Ye are foolish that put off the fair soft present,
That clothe yourselves with the cold future air;
When mother and father and tender sister and brother
And the old live love that was shall be as ye,
Dust, and no fruit of loving life shall be.
--She shall be yet who is more than all these were,
Than sister or wife or father unto us or mother.
--Is this worth life, is this, to win for wages?
Lo, the dead mouths of the awful grey-grown ages,
The venerable, in the past that is their prison,
In the outer darkness, in the unopening grave,
Laugh, knowing how many as ye now say have said,
How many, and all are fallen, are fallen and dead:
Shall ye dead rise, and these dead have not risen?
--Not we but she, who is tender and swift to save.
--Are ye not weary and faint not by the way,
Seeing night by night devoured of day by day,
Seeing hour by hour consumed in sleepless fire?
Sleepless: and ye too, when shall ye too sleep?
--We are weary in heart and head, in hands and feet,
And surely more than all things sleep were sweet,
Than all things save the inexorable desire
Which whoso knoweth shall neither faint nor weep.
--Is this so sweet that one were fain to follow?
Is this so sure where all men's hopes are hollow.
Even this your dream, that by much tribulation
Ye shall make whole flawed hearts, and bowed necks straight?
--Nay, though our life were blind, our death were fruitless,
Not therefore were the whole world's high hope rootless;
But man to man, nation would turn to nation,
And the old life live, and the old great world be great.
--Pass on then and pass by us and let us be,
For what light think ye after life to see?
And if the world fare better will ye know?
And if man triumph who shall seek you and say?
--Enough of light is this for one life's span,
That all men born are mortal, but not man:
And we men bring death lives by night to sow,
That man may reap and eat and live by day.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Lamentation
I.
WHO hath known the ways of time
Or trodden behind his feet?
There is no such man among men.
For chance overcomes him, or crime
Changes; for all things sweet
In time wax bitter again.
Who shall give sorrow enough,
Or who the abundance of tears?
Mine eyes are heavy with love
And a sword gone thorough mine ears,
A sound like a sword and fire,
For pity, for great desire;
Who shall ensure me thereof,
Lest I die, being full of my fears?
Who hath known the ways and the wrath,
The sleepless spirit, the root
And blossom of evil will,
The divine device of a god?
Who shall behold it or hath?
The twice-tongued prophets are mute,
The many speakers are still;
No foot has travelled or trod,
No hand has meted, his path.
Man’s fate is a blood-red fruit,
And the mighty gods have their fill
And relax not the rein, or the rod.
Ye were mighty in heart from of old,
Ye slew with the spear, and are slain.
Keen after heat is the cold,
Sore after summer is rain,
And melteth man to the bone.
As water he weareth away,
As a flower, as an hour in a day,
Fallen from laughter to moan.
But my spirit is shaken with fear
Lest an evil thing begin,
New-born, a spear for a spear,
And one for another sin.
Or ever our tears began,
It was known from of old and said;
One law for a living man,
And another law for the dead.
For these are fearful and sad,
Vain, and things without breath;
While he lives let a man be glad,
For none hath joy of his death.
II.
Who hath known the pain, the old pain of earth,
Or all the travail of the sea,
The many ways and waves, the birth
Fruitless, the labour nothing worth?
Who hath known, who knoweth, O gods? not we.
There is none shall say he hath seen,
There is none he hath known.
Though he saith, Lo, a lord have I been,
I have reaped and sown;
I have seen the desire of mine eyes,
The beginning of love,
The season of kisses and sighs
And the end thereof.
I have known the ways of the sea,
All the perilous ways,
Strange winds have spoken with me,
And the tongues of strange days.
I have hewn the pine for ships;
Where steeds run arow,
I have seen from their bridled lips
Foam blown as the snow.
With snapping of chariot-poles
And with straining of oars
I have grazed in the race the goals,
In the storm the shores;
As a greave is cleft with an arrow
At the joint of the knee,
I have cleft through the sea-straits narrow
To the heart of the sea.
When air was smitten in sunder
I have watched on high
The ways of the stars and the thunder
In the night of the sky;
Where the dark brings forth light as a flower,
As from lips that dissever;
One abideth the space of an hour,
One endureth for ever.
Lo, what hath he seen or known,
Of the way and the wave
Unbeholden, unsailed-on, unsown,
From the breast to the grave?
Or ever the stars were made, or skies,
Grief was born, and the kinless night,
Mother of gods without form or name.
And light is born out of heaven and dies,
And one day knows not another’s light,
But night is one, and her shape the same.
But dumb the goddesses underground
Wait, and we hear not on earth if their feet
Rise, and the night wax loud with their wings;
Dumb, without word or shadow of sound;
And sift in scales and winnow as wheat
Men’s souls, and sorrow of manifold things.
III.
Nor less of grief than ours
The gods wrought long ago
To bruise men one by one;
But with the incessant hours
Fresh grief and greener woe
Spring, as the sudden sun
Year after year makes flowers;
And these die down and grow,
And the next year lacks none.
As these men sleep, have slept
The old heroes in time fled,
No dream-divided sleep;
And holier eyes have wept
Than ours, when on her dead
Gods have seen Thetis weep,
With heavenly hair far-swept
Back, heavenly hands outspread
Round what she could not keep,
Could not one day withhold,
One night; and like as these
White ashes of no weight,
Held not his urn the cold
Ashes of Heracles?
For all things born one gate
Opens, no gate of gold;
Opens; and no man sees
Beyond the gods and fate.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dreams
Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream!
My spirit not awakening, till the beam
Of an Eternity should bring the morrow.
Yes! tho' that long dream were of hopeless sorrow,
'Twere better than the cold reality
Of waking life, to him whose heart must be,
And hath been still, upon the lovely earth,
A chaos of deep passion, from his birth.
But should it be- that dream eternally
Continuing- as dreams have been to me
In my young boyhood- should it thus be given,
'Twere folly still to hope for higher Heaven.
For I have revell'd, when the sun was bright
I' the summer sky, in dreams of living light
And loveliness,- have left my very heart
In climes of my imagining, apart
From mine own home, with beings that have been
Of mine own thought- what more could I have seen?
'Twas once- and only once- and the wild hour
From my remembrance shall not pass- some power
Or spell had bound me- 'twas the chilly wind
Came o'er me in the night, and left behind
Its image on my spirit- or the moon
Shone on my slumbers in her lofty noon
Too coldly- or the stars- howe'er it was
That dream was as that night-wind- let it pass.
I have been happy, tho' in a dream.
I have been happy- and I love the theme:
Dreams! in their vivid coloring of life,
As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife
Of semblance with reality, which brings
To the delirious eye, more lovely things
Of Paradise and Love- and all our own!
Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known.
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crumbling Paradise
Our paradise is a beautiful place in mind,
Exist only when we go there in spirit,
On a trip; in this realm of splendid sublime,
Only those so deep in love can get to it.
A precious place of graceful escapades,
Found in the wind that floats through the air,
Dare to be where our daily memory fades,
And fond embrace becomes the treasure.
We seek more from this impure life,
And would endure every pain and torment,
But fiery trials esteem the crumbling grief,
These are the broken promise presently sent.
Burning desire more consuming than fire,
Within me lift the flames to a new heaven,
Overwhelm to speak of any intruder,
Pushing me out and trying to break in.
We fall down but love made us get up again,
With broken dreams of crumbling paradise,
There is no tears heaven; sorrow or pain,
We make our dreams here living in disguise.
No sweet exhale can make this paradise crumble,
Only truth we share divides the beat in our heart,
To make us stop and stare and quietly stumble,
Until we find the truest path where eternity start.
poem by Gerry Legister
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nocturne Of Remembered Spring
I.
Moonlight silvers the tops of trees,
Moonlight whitens the lilac shadowed wall
And through the evening fall,
Clearly, as if through enchanted seas,
Footsteps passing, an infinite distance away,
In another world and another day.
Moonlight turns the purple lilacs blue,
Moonlight leaves the fountain hoar and old,
And the boughs of elms grow green and cold,
Our footsteps echo on gleaming stones,
The leaves are stirred to a jargon of muted tones.
This is the night we have kept, you say:
This is the moonlit night that will never die.
Through the grey streets our memories retain
Let us go back again.
II.
Mist goes up from the river to dim the stars,
The river is black and cold; so let us dance
To flare of horns, and clang of cymbals and drums;
And strew the glimmering floor with roses,
And remember, while the rich music yawns and closes,
With a luxury of pain, how silence comes.
Yes, we loved each other, long ago;
We moved like wind to a music's ebb and flow.
At a phrase from violins you closed your eyes,
And smiled, and let me lead you how young we were!
Your hair, upon that music, seemed to stir.
Let us return there, let us return, you and I;
Through changeless streets our memories retain
Let us go back again.
III.
Mist goes up from the rain steeped earth, and clings
Ghostly with lamplight among drenched maple trees.
We walk in silence and see how the lamplight flings
Fans of shadow upon it the music's mournful pleas
Die out behind us, the door is closed at last,
A net of silver silence is softly cast
Over our thought slowly we walk,
Quietly with delicious pause, we talk,
Of foolish trivial things; of life and death,
Time, and forgetfulness, and dust and truth;
Lilacs and youth.
You laugh, I hear the after taken breath,
You darken your eyes and turn away your head
At something I have said
Some intuition that flew too deep,
And struck a plageant chord.
Tonight, tonight you will remember it as you fall asleep,
Your dream will suddenly blossom with sharp delight,
Goodnight! You say.
The leaves of the lilac dip and sway;
The purple spikes of bloom
Nod their sweetness upon us, lift again,
Your white face turns, I am caught with pain
And silence descends, and dripping of dew from eaves,
And jeweled points of leaves.
IV.
I walk in a pleasure of sorrow along the street
And try to remember you; slow drops patter;
Water upon the lilacs has made them sweet;
I brush them with my sleeve, the cool drops scatter;
And suddenly I laugh and stand and listen
As if another had laughed a gust
Rustles the leaves, the wet spikes glisten;
And it seems as though it were you who had shaken the bough,
And spilled the fragrance I pursue your face again,
It grows more vague and lovely, it eludes me now.
I remember that you are gone, and drown in pain.
Something there was I said to you I recall,
Something just as the music seemed to fall
That made you laugh, and burns me still with pleasure.
What were those words the words like dripping fire?
I remember them now, and in sweet leisure
Rehearse the scene, more exquisite than before,
And you more beautiful, and I more wise.
Lilacs and spring, and night, and your clear eyes,
And you, in white, by the darkness of a door:
These things, like voices weaving to richest music,
Flow and fall in the cool night of my mind,
I pursue your ghost among green leaves that are ghostly,
I pursue you, but cannot find.
And suddenly, with a pang that is sweetest of all,
I become aware that I cannot remember you;
The ghost I knew
Has silently plunged in shadows, shadows that stream and fall.
V.
Let us go in and dance once more
On the dream's glimmering floor,
Beneath the balcony festooned with roses.
Let us go in and dance once more.
The door behind us closes
Against an evening purple with stars and mist.
Let us go in and keep our tryst
With music and white roses, and spin around
In swirls of sound.
Do you foresee me, married and grown old?
And you, who smile about you at this room,
Is it foretold
That you must step from tumult into gloom,
Forget me, love another?
No, you are Cleopatra, fiercely young,
Laughing upon the topmost stair of night;
Roses upon the desert must be flung;
Above us, light by light,
Weaves the delirious darkness, petal fall,
And music breaks in waves on the pillared wall;
And you are Cleopatra, and do not care.
And so, in memory, you will always be
Young and foolish, a thing of dream and mist;
And so, perhaps when all is disillusioned,
And eternal spring returns once more,
Bringing a ghost of lovelier springs remembered,
You will remember me.
VI.
Yet when we meet we seem in silence to say,
Pretending serene forgetfulness of our youth,
"Do you remember but then why should you remember!
Do you remember a certain day,
Or evening rather, spring evening long ago,
We talked of death, and love, and time, and truth,
And said such wise things, things that amused us so
How foolish we were, who thought ourselves so wise!"
And then we laugh, with shadows in our eyes.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Night Whisperer
O Night comes again,
When the golden light leaving the sky
Follow the sun, to the west hills it flies
Flying birds now return, reach home again
Slowly the shadow comes, kiss over the land
Shades of night
Blanket all in the dark
So your eyes, closed for light
Don't give up or tired by today's fears
By my palm touch you softly with prayers
Leave your worry to sleep well, goodnight, dear
O Night comes again,
Warrior of nights present with delightful smiles
Radiant spherical resonance glows you from miles
Lunar whispers in lullaby, trade your sad with happiness
Protect you from dark, shield in armor, made of light
Goodnight, sleep tight, no danger dares to you tonight
This supreme night
Pillow your mind with bubble dreams
Go high and absorb the moonlight beam
To lullaby you with a sweet dream story
Before come tomorrow rise with sun glory
And run and forget yesterday for new history
O Night comes again
Sparkling in the air, like fairies dancing in the sky
Scattering stars exist at night and gone in daylight
Their shadows in your eyes, blanket you warm in bravery
Remind you 'In the dark, a faint light bolder as brightest spark'
'Find bright in destiny, night help you search for purely'
Be brave always may tonight you gain spirit, and be free
Dont sad if today breaks your heart
Release your mind, calm soul to back home
Next day will be another day, a new start
Wonderful life will come and past just gone
Ease your worry, come sleep, close your eyes
Just dream sweet, sleep well and goodnight
So happy to see you smile,
Could be today life you enjoy so much
Still a lot surprises to discover tomorrow
But now Sleep well smile bright and goodnight
Tuck in patient, waiting for new day
Shades of night
Blanket all in the dark
When the sun falling down
Nothing to lose in dark
But to find strength without light
From east sun reborn, the end of night
And run again for new life, make true your dream
Flying with the birds from nest and discover the day rest
Whispers will no end, my wish will reach you wherever you are
Because the night in every second, to remind the night walker
Where moon just come and comfort you anytime you want
For day will come,
Till the light bring golden ray in warm
Let moonlight embrace you in night arm
Be with you, keep warm on your side
Before tomorrow good night, sleep sweet tonight
Sleep dear, dream high and smile as moon give to borrow
: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
Even day lose it bright sun, but not mean dark with moon is to cry,
so dropp your sorrow, leave your worry because, in dark
there's a hint to rise again, to rest from all pains, to see another side
of spirit that we neglected in daylight...this come with melody of lullaby
..if we lose in dark, keep believe there's a best way to give us the best
things about life...it's a breakthrough method to find success as sometimes
we never meet a big success before we meet big failure/ dark..
Bring it positive, , , and like in our day, night also will go and sun will rise again
so the new day comes for new start...to make dream to be true
where past nightmare it just nothing to scare..
So take care, Goodnight and sleep tight wherever you are
because every second, there's a place meet dark...be bright!
_Unwritten Soul
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poem by Unwritten Soul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Just Cant Stop Loving You
Written and composed by michael jackson.
I just want to lay next to you for awhile
You look so beautiful tonight
Your eyes are so lovely
Your mouth is so sweet
A lot of people misunderstand me
Thats because they dont
Know me at all
I just want to touch you
And hold you
I need you
God I need you
I love you so much
[michael]
Each time the wind blows
I hear your voice so
I call your name . . .
Whispers at morning
Our love is dawning
Heavens glad you came . . .
You know how I feel
This thing cant go wrong
Im so proud to say I love you
Your loves got me high
I long to get by
This time is forever
Love is the answer
[siedah]
I hear your voice now
You are my choice now
The love you bring
Heavens in my heart
At your call
I hear harps,
And angels sing
You know how I feel
This thing cant go wrong
I cant live my life
Without you
[michael]
I just cant hold on
[siedah]
I feel we belong
[michael]
My life aint worth living
If I cant be with you
[both]
I just cant stop loving you
I just cant stop loving you
And if I stop . . .
Then tell me just what
Will I do
[siedah]
cause I just cant stop loving you
[michael]
At night when the
Stars shine
I pray in you Ill find
A love so true . . .
[siedah]
When morning awakes me
Will you come and take me
Ill wait for you
[michael]
You know how I feel
I wont stop until
I hear your voice saying I do
[siedah]
I do
This thing cant go wrong
[michael]
This feelings so strong
[siedah]
Well, my life aint
Worth living
[both]
If I cant be with you
I just cant stop loving you
I just cant stop loving you
And if I stop . . .
Then tell me, just what will I do
[michael]
I just cant stop loving you
[siedah]
We can change all the world tomorrow
[michael]
We can sing songs of
Yesterday
[siedah]
I can say, hey . . .farewell to sorrow
[michael]
This is my life and i,
[both]
Want to see you for always
I just cant stop loving you
[siedah]
No, baby
[michael]
Oh!
[both]
I just cant stop loving you
[siedah]
If I cant stop!
[both]
And if I stop . . .
[siedah]
No
[michael]
Oh! oh! oh . . .oh . . .
[siedah]
What will I do? uh . . .ooh . . .
(then tell me, just what will I do)
[both]
I just cant stop loving you
[michael]
Hee! hee! hee! know I do
Girl!
[both]
I just cant stop loving you
[michael]
You know I do
And if I stop . . .
[both]
Then tell me, just what will I do
[both]
I just cant stop loving you
song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Love Outshines The Summer Sun (Sonnet Corona)
(after William Shakespeare)
I
My love outshines the summer sun,
even stars in their remote twinkling light
and her eyes are more beautiful, each one
than the stars glimmering at night
Her cheeks is dimpled cute
her hair is an auburn crown,
her cheeks is rosy beyond repute
her hair is sun-shot twisting in a way of their own.
Her lips are more soft and warm
and her spirit is more mild
than a ray of light falling on my arm
or at times more free and wild
than birds where they fly,
my love is like the radiant sapphire sky.
II
My love is like the radiant sapphire sky
like the breeze rustling through trees
so lovely on my eye,
eager to please.
My love is like the summer sun,
like the blue hued sea
always warm and full of fun,
touching me gently
even when the darkness calls
and when time goes to its finality
like a star her light still falls,
my love stays true to me
in every thing her face I see
so gentle, sweet and free.
III
So gentle, sweet and free
my love lives her life
but I long for her to be near to me
in a world without any strive.
Like a lily prospering alone in the marsh
blooming pure and serene,
my darling lives unknown to a world harsh
out of control, away from the limelight scene
and in that rural place
her beauty is untouched by makeup,
filled with a sweet grace
and even in the morning when she wakes up
the sun is in her hair,
my darling is really fair.
IV
My darling is really fair
there are stars in her eyes,
she’s the most beautiful flower found anywhere,
her eyes are much more pure than the bluest skies.
When she smiles at me,
smiling tenderly,
I in her smile blessings see
as if love is there in all of its glory.
Still more so the bliss
that is caught in her kiss
that comes from the divine
which she is making mine
and sometimes the beauty makes her cry,
when the day flutters by.
V
When the day flutters by
with the sun setting red
you will find my love and I
where stars come out from bed,
then like a butterfly
the sun kisses the night,
touches the dark low and high
before it goes by with its last light
and she unloosens my tie
while we watch the full yellow moon,
while the fire in her eyes lie
sparkling, much brighter than the sunny afternoon,
but with a passing bat flying low she catches a fright,
while the stars are shining bright.
VII
While the stars are shining bright
like jewels in the sky’s crown
on a winter night
it has tranquillity, a beauty of its own,
her eyes are radiant,
as if aflame
lovely and brilliant
and of some she know the name
and something indiscernibly small
creeps into the very soul, into the heart
and of it that is all,
a smouldering, something with which we cannot part:
to me she remains the only one in joy and fun,
my love outshines the summer sun.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beautiful Night
Beautiful night, how the stars, they so clearly shine
And the joyful moon how it mirrors back my smile
Oh, beautiful night, you're good to a heart like mine
Oh, beautiful night, you've made this long road worthwhile
Beautiful night, glow of the city behind me
Smile, I, with my heart at peace and my mind at ease
Oh, beautiful night, tranquility sets me free
Oh, beautiful night, I dream of moments like these
Beautiful night and all seems so right with the world
Questions come later; decisions, future doth hold
Oh, beautiful night, for now I watch the sky twirl
Oh, beautiful night, I wait for light to behold
Yet, in the stillness of evening I dream these dreams
That the beauty of this night is all that it seems
poem by Danny Speicher
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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New York, New York
Well, I shuffled through the city on the 4th of july
I had a firecracker waiting to blow
Breakin like a rocket who makin its way
To the cities of mexico
Lived in an apartment out on avenue a
I had a tar-hut on the corner of 10th
Had myself a lover who was finer than gold
But Ive broken up and busted up since
And love dont play any games with me
Anymore like she did before
The world wont wait, so I better shake
That thing right out there through the door
Hell, I still love you, new york
Found myself a picture that would fit in the folds
Of my wallet and it stayed pretty good
Still amazed I didnt lose it on the roof of the place
When I was drunk and I was thinking of you
Every day the children they were singing their tune
Out on the streets and you could hear from inside
Used to take the subway up to houston and 3rd
I would wait for you and Id try to hide
And love wont play any games with me
Anymore if you dont want it to
The world wont wait and I watched you shake
But honey, I dont blame you
Hell, I still love you, new york
Hell, I still love you, new york
New york
I remember christmas in the blistering cold
In a church on the upper west side
Babe, I stood their singing, I was holding your arm
You were holding my trust like a child
Found a lot of trouble out on avenue b
But I tried to keep the overhead low
Farewell to the city and the love of my life
At least we left before we had to go
And love wont play any games with you
Anymore if you want em to
So we better shake this old thing out the door
Ill always be thinkin of you
Ill always love you though new york
Ill always love you though new york, new york, new york
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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