En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Enigmatic People (Cavatina Sequence) (In Answer To Archibald Macleish)

Reflected in glass with golden bubbles
distorted faces
stare at him, some looking quite grim and some old;
different places
they call home while to this place they do come,
girls with their graces
that are totally gone, smile, look, at him
before they do triple on, while his eyes swim.

He sits in a bar in Fourth Avenue
while twilight falls,
a soft hot hand covers his for a moment,
his thoughts do stall;
she is very beautiful, her eyes gleam,
and he feels tall
when they leave chatting and are full of lust
and they do know together sleep they must.

Taxis with sharp headlights pass them roaring
as they walk on,
they are comfortable with each other,
but love is gone
from both their lives and the intimate touch
just like set stone
helps them to fit in the puzzle of life
as they with other people leave and arrive.

In the morning their names are unknown, it's strange,
the air is stale
with the smell of cigarette buts, sex and wine
and totally male
he smiles at her as they make love again;
the taste of ale
is bitter in his mouth, her kisses sweet;
but they might never again like this meet.

No words hurt as they go their different ways,
past the white beach
he walks where the wind roars, gulls screech, flutter;
now out of reach
like a sweet kind of dream she is now gone
and each to each
they go to home, to work and they do play;
in their lives it's just another new day.

[Reference: 'inema of a Man' by Archibald MacLeish.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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She Does Not Need Any Praise (Cavatina Sequence)

(after Archibald MacLeish)

The greatest happiness she have given
today to me,
in the ways that together our lives is,
tranquillity
is in each smile, like a hot summer day,
totally free
she does her duty in words and her ways,
she acts unhindered like the sun's rays.

Fresh loaves of bread, lovely food she spreads,
great joy she finds
in her selfless acts that brings happiness,
free like the winds
her feet run while she lights candles, sometimes sings;
one of her kind
my wife is, she does not need any praise
as she loves with an amazing true grace.

[Reference: 'Poem in Prose' by Archibald MacLeish.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Night Dream (Cavatina Sequence)

(after Archibald MacLeish)

It had been a dream but seemed much too real;
her eyes, her voice,
had a quiet kind of lovely quality,
even her poise
had maturity, some kind of gentleness,
with no noise
but the buzzing of bees at a flower
while we lay down in fields of white clover.

The sun fell hot on our skins, her smile was
very dazzling,
while her soft hand gently touched my face,
there was something
known in the way that she did speak with me,
how she did fling
her hair back, while my head did gently rest,
on her soft heaving perfect naked breast.

Love I do not know she said and smiled,
but she was mine,
while we kissed in moments of pure bliss,
drank some white wine,
talked about some things close to the heart,
the curving line
I traced of her bended lovely back
while the greatest pure joy we did not lack.

It had only been a rapturous dream,
that was fading
but her skin, her smile was kind of special;
away wading
into the vast ocean of memory
until reading
from the magazine you looked up at me,
I could not pass when your face I did see.

[Reference: 'The Night Dream' by Archibald MacLeish.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Better It Would Have Been (Sonnet Corona / Crown Of Sonnets)

I

Without you much better it would have been,
if in this wide world under all the skies
I did not know you, I had never seen
the glimmer, the attraction in your eyes.

Better it would have been if I unseen
at the braking of that particular day
joyous, somewhat sincere like a teen
went on another different kind of way,

I would then have totally missed you
as our love, our joy was sealed in vain.
You would not have opportunity to do
things that leave much heartache and pain

as your heart was set in some treachery,
your blunt rebuke was not sought by me.

II

Your blunt rebuke was not sought by me,
yet you gave it to me as if earned,
as if from it I was not to be free,
its impact did hurt and really burned

right into my depths, my heart's inner core
and still I then very much loved you
every day more and even much more
as something very sincere and true

but my Lord I loved more deeper still
as He always dwelled in everything
and I try to live by His very will,
with your love being at times a cursing

and at times there was water on my glasses;
when the wild wind rushes through the grasses.

III

When the wild wind rushes through the grasses,
it is something that you will never see
nor the beauty of the places were it passes
as you can never be really quite free

from the rich earthly things that embraces
you in wantonness, in deep iniquity
and at many different kinds of places
high up on the hill and down in the lea

diamonds adorn grasses and wild flowers
as if nature cries for you and me
as tears of dew that shines, not from showers
while life is how it's determined to be,

when you had chosen a fresh sort of start;
I did not ask you to return my heart.

IV

I did not ask you to return my heart
you have trampled it again and again
and now it would be really just in vain
as it is broken in every part

but now from each other being apart
we live separate lives of joy and pain
and the simple fact does still remain,
it does not take someone really quite smart

to know that when you do not have me
your whole life becomes somewhat mundane,
then you do not really want to be free
and I know that it sounds very inane
but obviously I cannot anymore be
yours in love's strange painful mystery.

V

Yours in love's strange painful mystery
were without any tears and full of glee
but left me totally broken hearted
then I noted after more than fifteen years

that you did not take a last kind of kiss,
from me was taking whatever you could,
had totally forgotten our sweet bliss,
maybe I knew this was the way that it would.

I wish time and again not to have know you
in the way that it ended when you were gone,
while then you had been wickedly untrue
had have intimate sex with someone,

it's sometimes hard to be the only one,
when at night in darkness I lie down alone.

VI

When at night in darkness I lie down alone
the golden moon and all the stars are bright
and some of them to me are quite unknown,
Orion and the seven sisters gleam at night

but life does continually carry on
the morning sun seems at times out of sight
and it is stripped from all affection
but can constantly bring back life and light

to what is still left of my kind of world,
as if everything is falling apart
and in all the things that I do behold
you seem to be somehow the crucial part

as if everything was astray leaden,
as you left me, my life did then deaden.

VII

As you left me, my life did then deaden
as if being tied up and underfed,
walking away, not anymore a maiden,
leaving my heart filled with only dread.

In love I saw you as pure and holy
a mother for children, true to the gods,
but with your lover you acted lowly
as you did cast me away to life's odds

and you have lost all the joyful graces
with the very thoughts of you that remain,
images of your many different faces
are filled to the brim with utter pain

and to meet you again I am not keen,
without you much better it would have been.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Making Love To An Angel(2nd Revision)

A smile so sweet.
The secret places in which we meet.
Your are my true confidant.
We leave a trail of misery.
Screwing you in you back seat.
Nobody can ever know.
Cause you are my little dirty secret.
But still the best when i need it.
Going down, and going to heaven at the same time.

Making love to an angel and you know it.
It feels so damn good.
Who would shy away?
And all I have to say is that guy must be gay.

The taste of your lips, so bitter sweet.
The secret places in which we meet.
Again your on top of me.
Your controlling me and I like it.
Their just no denying it.
Oh baby, you know just what to do.
Holding it all in, and knowing just when to let go.

Making love to an angel and you know it.
It feels so damn good.
I wish it would never end.
Lets give it a go again and again.

Those words coming from you sound so sweet.
The secret places in which we meet.
It's so right.
All day and all night.
The claw marks you leave on my skin, create a burning within.
All I want is more.
We got to have it rough.
Never enough.

Making love to an angel and you know it.
It feels so damn good.
Perfect with every touch, to every desirable shape.
She is a goddess.
Can anyone relate?
Its our everlasting escape.
Oh baby I'm making love to an angel you know it, and you know it.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Kisses

You've kissed a hundred girls by now
and never found the one
whose kisses taste like cherry wine
and warm you like the sun.

But when it is you touch my lips
and brush them soft and sweet,
You'll lay your life before me
and feel like you're complete.

For I, my love have saved my lips,
saved them just for you.
And now that you have felt them
there's nothing you can do.

You can't go back to other's lips.
They would not feel the same.
The bitter taste they'd leave you with
would have you then exclaim.

'I need your lips. I long for them
and how they make me feel.'
So when you place your lips on mine
you'll know our love is real.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Life Is Beautiful

Soaking my feet in Rose petal
Listening to the rain fall down
A chilled glass of White wine
Tonight We'll paint the town
Life Is Beautiful
Rest by the roaring warm fire
The scent of Jasmine in the air
Sharing sweet little treats
Your love is beyond compare
Life Is Beautiful
Take dinner by candle light
The music is soft as your kiss
You reach and take my hand
A sweet touch of your lips
Life Is Beautiful

poem by Suelynn Walters
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Choriambics

Love, what ailed thee to leave life that was made lovely, we thought, with love?
What sweet visions of sleep lured thee away, down from the light above?

What strange faces of dreams, voices that called, hands that were raised to wave,
Lured or led thee, alas, out of the sun, down to the sunless grave?

Ah, thy luminous eyes! once was their light fed with the fire of day;
Now their shadowy lids cover them close, hush them and hide away.

Ah, thy snow-coloured hands! once were they chains, mighty to bind me fast;
Now no blood in them burns, mindless of love, senseless of passion past.

Ah, thy beautiful hair! so was it once braided for me, for me;
Now for death is it crowned, only for death, lover and lord of thee.

Sweet, the kisses of death set on thy lips, colder are they than mine;
Colder surely than past kisses that love poured for thy lips as wine.

Lov'st thou death? is his face fairer than love's, brighter to look upon?
Seest thou light in his eyes, light by which love's pales and is overshone?

Lo the roses of death, grey as the dust, chiller of leaf than snow!
Why let fall from thy hand love's that were thine, roses that loved thee so?

Large red lilies of love, sceptral and tall, lovely for eyes to see;
Thornless blossom of love, full of the sun, fruits that were reared for thee.

Now death's poppies alone circle thy hair, girdle thy breasts as white;
Bloodless blossoms of death, leaves that have sprung never against the light.

Nay then, sleep if thou wilt; love is content; what should he do to weep?
Sweet was love to thee once; now in thine eyes sweeter than love is sleep.

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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She Said

In every corner of my memory
There's no place you wouldn't be
lf anything, I wish I had
Another dream with you
Life was forever yesterday
Nothing in the world could take
Your love away, will I ever know
That time will ease the pain
For me someday
She said I won't leave you, ever
Just love me forever
She said you can leave, but never
Walk away
Lights reflecting in the evening sun
Back to the place where we were one
Soul mates forever about to chase
Rainbows in the dark
Another day to destiny
Come on and set me free
When I close my eyes, I see your smile
As I walk in the pouring rain
I call your name
She said I won't leave you, ever
Just love me forever
She said, we will be together, someday
She said I won't leave you, ever
Just love me forever
She said, you can leave, but never
Walk away
I can see a million faces
When I take a walk outside
But I just never knew
That I could go a million places
And I'd see always, only you
The loneliness crawls up on me
Without you there's no me
At any time or any place
But time will ease the pain
For me someday
She said I won't leave you, ever
Just love me forever
She said, we will be together, someday
She said, I will wait forever
I won't leave you ever
She said, you can leave, but never
Ever walk away
Don't walk away
Oh no don't walk away
I'II be waiting, always
Until you'Il wake up from this dream
Someday

song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Path Of Mirrors

They walk so close to you, yet so far away
Their eyes are lost, their faces fixed like stone
They walk behind the mirrors and here they shall stay
You walk with other souls liveng, breathing, yet for them they are alone

You walk through the hall way down the path of glass
You watch as they walk on into eternity, into the dark
They walk there behind the glass,
People around you going through leaving their mark.

They walk past your reflection as if you never saw
They walk through time as if time weren’t there
They know you would never aproach them
They know you would never dare.

They walk through the glass and look straight ahead,
They know nothing lies ahead, yet they know they can not turn back,
So they walk into nothing instead,
Passing you so all you see is their back.

You pause infront of the glass looking looking past,
You know that you shall not join them you know it is not your fate
You think about the footsteps you take, wondering which shall be your last,
You walk on again only thinking of their fate

Their faces emotionless the souls so cold,
You think of how you own skin feels, so warm,
You watch as the move like action figures made from a mold,
All the same, all waiting out the storm

The storm of life, the storm of death,
You walk along side them as they walk past everyone,
They watch ahead never turning, never looking above,
They turn to noone.

You walk along beside them as they take no notice to lifes dance,
They only walk past, walk through the mirrors of fate,
Kepping one great stance,
You watch people finding their fate.

Their faces so still, alone in the world, without hope
You watch them walk on, you watch them pass
You see their unmoving faces, as they walk up the endless slope
They walk along, behind the glass.

You turn to watch as their souls move on,
You reach out your hand to touch the glass,
Only to feel the glass is gone,
You watch as your hand passes through the glass.

As you hand melts through one by one the spirits turn,
One takes your hand and pulls your arm through,
More spirits feel your presence and more turn,
They watch as you melt through.

You watch your world leave as you leave it,
You have found you fate and not you are here along with them,
They walk on as you pull your body through, leaving behind the sweater of life you knit,
You have come and joined them.

You look back at the mirror to look at your face,
And you see your eyes becoming lost,
As you enter their race,
The race that shall never end, the race through eternity, for now you are lost

You skin feels so cold you face feels so hard,
You walk with them, as one
As you emotions turn hard,
In true time you are done.

You walk with them, walk alone
They walk so close to you, yet so far away
As everything becomes an endless drone,
For now you are here to stay.

poem by Bethany Maxwell
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A little home

It is home, sweet home that counts on and matters
In my sound sleep also sometimes I utter
I long for those atmosphere and beautiful walls
Some type of magnetic pull that always gives call

All sweet and bad memories are deeply attached
Not for a moment it takes us away and keep detached
Birth place, childhood and youth very happily spent
Protection under kind parents and happy moments

I will never forget the place which helped to build?
Kind love, affection and impregnable protective shield
So much influence form all over and everything to yield
Fresh air, lovely atmosphere and free games in open field

You long for your own home when gain maturity
It goes on in succession with continuity
You have your home with kids and beautiful wife
Days are passing off very smoothly in life

The end of universe is your dear home
You may not find beautiful city like Rome
But home is called home and has no parallel
When you reach at home you feel so well

You may get tired while working at sites
It may compel you to work and more wishes to ignite
You are lifeless when returned home at night
Your mind is not at rest and continues to fight

When you reach home and find everything alright
You may be able to think what is wrong or right
You may find all comforts at home when reach
You may feel at the top of the world and rich

You may have to work hard for your livelihood
You too may have to care for your neighborhood
Home is where you get all comforts and joy
You will have to make it heaven and completely enjoy

No where on earth you will feel at ease
Tension and worries altogether may cease
Morning sun may brighten your hope
Yu may be well prepared to walk on rope

All individual dream of happy home to take refuge
You can have easy access, free entry and no one can refuse
It is for us to make it worth while and suitable
No other place can make us happy or comfortable

I shall pray for suitable house with complete peace
Where I can hang on for all times to come at ease
It is place to seek solace and new energy release
Opening of new relation and not try it to freeze

Home has remained a holy place
Nobody every could replace
It is complete reality
Go for it and improve the quality

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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In Your Own Ways

You are smart in your own ways
you are lovely in your own ways
you are beautiful in your own ways
You smile in your own ways

So crazy in your own ways
The madness of your own ways
such mysterious in your own ways
Those eyes of your own ways

You inspire me in your own ways
You talk in you own ways
you love me in your own ways
You suprise me in your own ways

Your kindness of its own kind
Your love of its own loveliness
your touch of its own comfort
And your kisses of its own sweetness

There is nothing so much worth to
treasure in my own ways than the
sweet memories of your own ways
Your life in your own ways
changes mine in its own way

God must have taken His own time
for sush a creation of its own kind
With everything in its own way
I must live your way.

poem by Moffat Mbuzi
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Don't Be Surprised

My love,
Don't be surprised,
If early in the morning,
After no being able to sleep at all,
You find yourself in front of a mirror
And see an image that resembles me,
Don't think, for a moment,
That it is a distorted image of you,
But a clear one of me,
Reflected in that mirror
Which is tightly fixed in front of you,
Letting you know that I am still
Living within your heart and mind...
You must understand
That there are things in life
Beyond your total control,
Natural feelings that still persist,
Sweet memories of the time
When, unconditionally, to you,
I surrendered my soul,
But love it is not your fault,
If our lives ended up
With totally different results....

©All Rights Reserved-2010

poem by Romeo Della Valle
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Thorgerda

LO, what a golden day it is!
The glad sun rives the sapphire deeps
Down to the dim pearl-floor’d abyss
Where, cold in death, my lover sleeps;

Crowns with soft fire his sea-drench’d hair,
Kisses with gold his lips death-pale,
Lets down from heaven a golden stair,
Whose steps methinks his soul doth scale.

This is my treasure. White and sweet,
He lies beneath my ardent eyne,
With heart that nevermore shall beat,
Nor lips press softly against mine.

How like a dream it seems to me,
The time when hand in hand we went
By hill and valley, I and he,
Lost in a trance of ravishment!

I and my lover here that lies
And sleeps the everlasting sleep,
We walk’d whilere in Paradise;
(Can it be true?) Our souls drank deep

Together of Love’s wonder-wine:
We saw the golden days go by,
Unheeding, for we were divine;
Love had advanced us to the sky.

And of that time no traces bin,
Save the still shape that once did hold
My lover’s soul, that shone therein,
As wine laughs in a vase of gold.

Cold, cold he lies, and answers not
Unto my speech; his mouth is cold
Whose kiss to mine was sweet and hot
As sunshine to a marigold.

And yet his pallid lips I press;
I fold his neck in my embrace;
I rain down kisses none the less
Upon his unresponsive face:

I call on him with all the fair
Flower-names that blossom out of love;
I knit sea-jewels in his hair;
I weave fair coronals above

The cold, sweet silver of his brow:
For this is all of him I have;
Nor any Future more than now
Shall give me back what Love once gave.

For from Death’s gate our lives divide;
His was the Galilean’s faith:
With those that serve the Crucified,
He shar’d the chance of Life and Death.

And so my eyes shall never light
Upon his star-soft eyes again;
Nor ever in the day or night,
By hill or valley, wood or plain,

Our hands shall meet afresh. His voice
Shall never with its silver tone
The sadness of my soul rejoice,
Nor his breast throb against my own.

His sight shall never unto me
Return whilst heaven and earth remain:
Though Time blend with Eternity,
Our lives shall never meet again,—

Never by gray or purple sea,
Never again in heavens of blue,
Never in this old earth—ah me!
Never, ah never! in the new.

For me, he treads the windless ways
Among the thick star-diamonds,
Where in the middle æther blaze
The Golden City’s pearl gate-fronds;

Sitteth, palm-crown’d and silver-shod,
Where in strange dwellings of the skies
The Christians to their Woman-God
Cease nevermore from psalmodies.

And I, I wait, with haggard eyes
And face grown awful for desire,
The coming of that fierce day’s rise
When from the cities of the fire

The Wolf shall come with blazing crest,
And many a giant arm’d for war;
When from the sanguine-streaming West,
Hell-flaming, speedeth Naglfar.

poem by John Howard Payne
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Really, I Am In A Bad Time Of My Life

but i am used to these bad times
you see
these happen most of the time, we get used to these
bad times
and after a while we are no longer
affected,
no longer ruled by these bad times
and we become numb like we are prepared for an operation
like the way how my gallbladder
was removed four years ago
and people
call me sweet and women taste me and say i am
sweet and i like it

the bitterness is gone now
and i am ready for something new something sweeter
come what may
i have open arms and interesting eyes that speak the language
of

yucks! lust.

do you want to taste this chunk of lust?
or a slice of happiness? they call it love,
endearment, but i like it
when it is simply called by its plain name
no euphemisms

lust, lust, lust, just lust, no heart
i want a heartless love affair
one that does not
hurt

let me share it with you, but first tell me

were you once bitter too?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Headlights

headlights
highways
your life collides with mine

leavin' our shoes behind
we cross the water
our words flow
from mouth to mouth
like fish seeking dark places
the mist covers our traces covers our faces

headlights
highways
your life collides with mine

we're stepping into shelter
movin out of shadow
we made some wrong moves
along the way
oh we might have strayed
will I forget your face
and your fluid gait
or will I stare into the stillness
this is where I miss you
so long
th what's done
how come we've gone
so much time's been wasted
so many thoughts been lost on you

headlights
highways
your life collides with mine

cold wind rushes
down on my face
smoke heats the black throat
of the chimney

the door is open
come on inside...

song performed by by Dispatch from Who Are We Living For?
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home Sweet Home

Met this girl called josephine and took her up on my machine
We had a little fun and now we got a little one
Had to get married, being chased out of town
Found ourselves a place to live, we put all our money down
Call it home sweet home, home sweet home
Eleven floors up in a tower block
Happy just to have a home
Ive gone and changed the lock on our home
Nothing really worked out right, things got broke,
They stayed that way
None of our friends came around at night and little sam got
No place to play
Weve got to get out of here, bill she said Ive been telling
You all the while
When I came home from work that night shed jumped out the
Window with our chiled
From our home sweet home, home sweet home
Just a place to take a rest, just a place ot make our nest
-- we call it our home
When the insurance money came through seemed dirty didnt
Know what to do
Took the cash went down the casino, down on the wheel
On the double
And I won, oh yes I won, like I never won before
Bought myself a country house with an antique carved
Oak door
It was home sweet home, home sweet home
Just a place to lay our head think of all those things we said
About in our home sweet home.

song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vickery's Mountain

Blue in the west the mountain stands,
And through the long twilight
Vickery sits with folded hands,
And Vickery’s eyes are bright.

Bright, for he knows what no man else
On earth as yet may know:
There’s a golden word that he never tells,
And a gift that he will not show.

He dreams of honor and wealth and fame,
He smiles, and well he may;
For to Vickery once a sick man came
Who did not go away.

The day before the day to be,
“Vickery,” said the guest,
“You know as you live what’s left of me—
And you shall know the rest.

“You know as you live that I have come
To this we call the end.
No doubt you have found me troublesome,
But you’ve also found a friend;

“For we shall give and you shall take
The gold that is in view;
The mountain there and I shall make
A golden man of you.

“And you shall leave a friend behind
Who neither frets nor feels;
And you shall move among your kind
With hundreds at your heels.

“Now this that I have written here
Tells all that need be told;
So, Vickery, take the way that’s clear.
And be a man of gold.”

Vickery turned his eyes again
To the far mountain-side,
And wept a tear for worthy men
Defeated and defied.

Since then a crafty score of years
Have come, and they have gone;
But Vickery counts no lost arrears:
He lingers and lives on.

Blue in the west the mountain stands,
Familiar as a face.
Blue, but Vickery knows what sands
Are golden at its base.

He dreams and lives upon the day
When he shall walk with kings.
Vickery smiles—and well he may.
The life-caged linnet sings.

Vickery thinks the time will come
To go for what is his;
But hovering, unseen hands at home
Will hold him where he is.

There’s a golden word that he never tells
And a gift that he will not show.
All to be given to some one else—
And Vickery not to know.

poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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To

AH, often do I wait and watch,
And look up, straining through the Real
With longing eyes, my friend, to catch
Faint glimpses of your white Ideal.

I know she loved to rest her feet
By slumbrous seas and hidden strand;
But mostly hints of her I meet
On moony spots of mountain land.

I’ve never reached her shining place,
And only cross at times a gleam;
As one might pass a fleeting face
Just on the outside of a Dream.

But you may climb, her happy Choice!
She knows your step, the maiden true,
And ever when she hears your voice,
She turns and sits and waits for you.

How sweet to rest on breezy crest
With such a Love, what time the Morn
Looks from his halls of rosy rest,
Across green miles of gleaming corn!

How sweet to find a leafy nook,
When bees are out, and Day burns mute,
Where you may hear a passion’d brook
Play past you, like a mellow flute!

Or, turning from the sunken sun,
On fields of dim delight to lie—
To close your eyes and muse upon
The twilight’s strange divinity!

Or through the Night’s mysterious noon,
While Sound lies hushed among the trees,
To sit and watch a mirror’d moon
Float over silver-sleeping seas!

Oh, vain regret! why should I stay
To think and dream of joys unknown?
You walk with her from day to day,
I faint afar off—and alone.

poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just Love Me As Me

There’s a time of day
Before we sleep
Or when awakening
When all our thoughts are innocent
And free of many things
Like guilt and blame and anger too
We lie and we just dream
We feel a calmness in our lives
And problems do not seem
As bad as what we thought before
We wear a smile with thought
For so many times we fool ourselves
With ‘should’ rather than ‘ought’
We cannot make another act
As if they were ourselves
Nor countenance obedience
Beyond what we can tell
The time is ripe!
The moment’s now!
The past must be forgiven!
For otherwise those thoughts of yours
Will be forever sadness driven
I love you more than my own self
I love you totally
I want you to return that love
And....
Just love me as me.

poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Meeting In Winter

Winter in the world it is,
Round about the unhoped kiss
Whose dream I long have sorrowed o’er;
Round about the longing sore,
That the touch of thee shall turn
Into joy too deep to burn.

Round thine eyes and round thy mouth
Passeth no murmur of the south,
When my lips a little while
Leave thy quivering tender smile,
As we twain, hand holding hand,
Once again together stand.

Sweet is that, as all is sweet;
For the white drift shalt thou meet,
Kind and cold-cheeked and mine own,
Wrapped about with deep-furred gown
In the broad-wheeled chariot:
Then the north shall spare us not;
The wide-reaching waste of snow
Wilder, lonelier yet shall grow
As the reddened sun falls down.

But the warders of the town,
When they flash the torches out
O’er the snow amid their doubt,
And their eyes at last behold
Thy red-litten hair of gold;
Shall they open, or in fear
Cry, “Alas! What cometh here?
Whence hath come this Heavenly
To tell of all the world undone?”

They shall open, and we shall see
The long street litten scantily
By the long stream of light before
The guest-hall’s half-open door;
And our horses’ bells shall cease
As we reach the place of peace;
Thou shalt tremble, as at last
The worn threshold is o’er-past,
And the fire-light blindeth thee:
Trembling shalt thou cling to me
As the sleepy merchants stare
At thy cold hands slim and fair,
Thy soft eyes and happy lips
Worth all lading of their ships.

O my love, how sweet and sweet
That first kissing of thy feet,
When the fire is sunk alow,
And the hall made empty now
Groweth solemn, dim and vast!
O my love, the night shall last
Longer than men tell thereof
Laden with our lonely love!

poem by William Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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