En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Like A Sun-Bird That İs Drunk With Nectar

Like a sun-bird that is drunk with nectar,
you visit my soul continually with buzzing wings
and hopeless my life echoes on like a shadow
of what at a time it has been, as without hope

but still you draw near in the bright morning
bringing a kind of joy like a flower blooming
in the sheer dry wasted desert in bright colours,
while the night flutters, your embrace me tenderly

while your breast firmly alive press into me,
with shadows visiting us like tranquil butterflies
and outside the rain is falling, sieving continually
with clouds of steam rising from the hot tar;

sun-bird sometimes you leave and are gone
and then there is only sheer silence everywhere.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A New Spring (In Answer To Ernst Van Heerden)

There is something radically new to this spring
something fresh, matchless, pure, even bright
it continually brings the realization of new life
of unfolding growth, hope and true love

if we continually love each other, will I already
see you glow in early pregnancy
when the Seven Sisters, Orion and the Southern Cross
glow romantically, with candles smouldering to their ends?
And now when you lie warm in my arms
with your body enchanting, I feel your heart beating
the moon gleams golden and magical
every moment is full of passion

It is visible that the earth is different
trees are covered in exuberant new buds
the grass is full of life and green
when butterflies are fluttering, bees are working buzzing
while thunder blazes down blue-white
with the rain pouring pattering, bringing life

the fluttering, flapping of chattering birds
over glorious trees, at flowers that are blooming, at crops
is a glad exaltation where the farmer, the gardener
and every lover of nature
see the splendour of new life
knows that God does answer prayers
brings rain, wind and sunshine at His time

and in the fishpond goldfishes stare
in love at each other
while the mirror image
catches nature full of life

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

In The Early Afternoons Like Morning Glories

In the early afternoons like morning glories
I flourish under the sweetness of your sunny eyes
while in the blaze of your pretty smile my solitude
reaches out to you in a kind of invisible embrace

as if I am always flourishing in your blazing presence
drawing, continually drawing your radiance to me.
Sometimes there is only darkness when your soul
drops to the depths of a kind of sheer depression.

In the early afternoons like morning glories
I flourish under the sweetness of your sunny eyes
see a myriad of butterflies fluttering nearer
that visits me gently like the way I love you

and as the night sets in my life is ever folding,
closing and waiting for the sunshine of your touch.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Rising So Low As If Falling From The Sky

Rising so low as if falling from the sky
the light of the silver moon is so bright
that it blots out stars, it looks as if
it is part of the high hill

gleams upon the snow capped peaks,
leaving them sparkling,
creates another kind of world
and your eyes catch me.

Sometimes there are sparkling stars
in your glance that turns my heart
crazily like a Ferris wheel
making it spin almost out of control

as if there are elemental forces
that are at you disposal
with the power of wind,
of rain, thunder and furious cyclone

or at other times the sieving tranquil rain
that brings refreshment and joy to the heart,
your eyes become the only stars shining
at me in this dark night with a own sheer light

and you really know me, know the road
that for years I have been travelling on
which always returns back to you,
even if it leads away from everything.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Be Drunk

You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it--it's the
only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks
your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually
drunk.
But on what?Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be
drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of
a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again,
drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave,
the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything
that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is
singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and
wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you:"It is time to be
drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be
continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."

poem by Charles Baudelaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Little Black Bird

little black bird of Lia
flying away to Arizona

how is that little black
bird? what is it doing

in the desert? watching
how God paints a very

red orange sunset and
how the wind of the night

erases everything? Little
Black bird of Lia, what

is the reason for the
the leaving of devotion?

is sincerity still found
on that desert flower

blooming without water?
the cactus and some thorns

my loneliness deep like
the desert night, my longing

wide like the wind, my
illusions that life still

imitate art, that i can be
myself. Blackness and wings.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Blue Sky Memories (In Answer To O Ingrid Jonker, For Daleen)

Blue sky memories continually comes to me
of a day under a bright summer sun
as if a part of you stays lingering,
when I love you even more (if I could)
while continually you are snared in my remembering.
Even when times of bad weather want to come
there is an unbreakable bond between us,
while continually I am astounded by our love.
Blue sky memories continually lingers in my thoughts
when I forget all of my previous heartaches,
when continually I am lost in you
and I always know about the depth of our love.
The sparkling sun continuously brings new hope,
when we walk days, months and years together on a road.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Youth In Age

Once I was part of the music I heard
On the boughs or sweet between earth and sky,
For joy of the beating of wings on high
My heart shot into the breast of the bird.

I hear it now and I see it fly,
And a life in wrinkles again is stirred,
My heart shoots into the breast of the bird,
As it will for sheer love till the last long sigh.

poem by George Meredith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Nectar Sweet

My humming bird heart
beats for you
faster still with you in sight;
but you my flower
elude me.

I flutter
mid-air in flight
above other flowers
but no nectar drips from my beak's visit;
no matter how far I plunge
toward some flower's-center
it's not yours, and I retreat.

I pause,
flutter away
without that sweet juice of yours
I crave.
Possessing it is my Obsessions' Obsession.

Nothing deters my eye
from my flower-mission;
neither cat
nor rival bird
challenge me
when they espy my determined ire,
as I put my sharpened beak on display,
exhibiting to them my humming bird speed
and my reckless need.

No, they shrink
away
with second thoughts
and leave me to my nectar quest.

Some flowers are beautiful,
but none so beautiful as yours;
this is set in me for all time-
even if I,
nectarless,
become weak and falter-
no longer able to fly
and plunge spiraling to the ground;

I will have you my sweet
or no nectar at all.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Never Ending Kind Of Intimate Thing

Your white body lies like a continent
with breasts as hillocks, slender thighs
and the valleys somewhere in between
while tiny shadows fall in the afternoon.

I bury myself with great pleasure in you,
feel the warmth of your blazing volcano,
reach up to the centre core of my existence
and each and every glance in your bright eyes

draws me deeper, draws us still closer together
and the lost of self, where nature flees from me
there is a tender kind of peace at twilight
while we love each other past all feelings.

There is peace in the separation that comes later,
the separation of skin, of thighs of genitalia
but still your gaze were burning into my very soul
and I love you; love every part of your body,

with the smell of love like fresh rain around us
rising from the rose of your tender hot pubis,
with nipples still somewhat hardened aroused
on your soft firm breast that are fragile to touch.

Boundless desire flames again and again,
while your beauty bringing sheer joy,
bringing a kind of very deep tranquillity,
as if the thirst, the yearning for each other

is a never ending kind of intimate thing,
that always exists, with a kind of grace,
that has an infinite kind of ache for fulfilment
a kind of indescribable joy that comes with bliss.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Wings of Dreams Beat Hard...

Wings of dreams beat hard
Casting shadows
Rising and falling...
Of huge frames...
Flips d day...
His new face arises...
From bright and vivid...
To dark and dull...
Shadows lost...
For cloak of light...
Removed from the mirror of life...
And where once false
Now the being is lost
For this hour delayed yet shall fall...
Man let the bird land...
As days swiftly swing in the wings of dreams...
For night is delayed yet shall fall...
Morrow's dusk shall extend its fetters till eternity...

poem by Lama Abbas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Blue Bird...

THERE is a blue bird
nesting inside my belly
there are butterflies in
there too,

THERE is nothing that
comes out from my belly
there is nothing that
flutters in there
nothing flies away
there is nothing
that comes out from
my mouth

THERE is only a blue bird
in my belly
the butterflies do not
last
only the blue bird
yes
this blue bird
this silence

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

In You I Find The Beginning Of Each New Day

In you I find the beginning of each new day,
like the early wind rustling through the trees,
you come constantly, visiting me with happiness
like the first golden rays of sunshine bringing light

giving a kind of freedom to our love,
that rises as if with wings up into the blue,
while in your absence comes a starless night
without any tranquillity or kind of rest.

Your voice has a sparkle to it that out sing
the many birds, even the rustling sad wind
and I am lost in the depths of your words,
when in loveliness you hit some high notes.

You draw people to you like a mother hen,
with nostalgic, longing voices yearning for your joy
are like a road that I continually travel on,
where I find new kinds of things in your loving.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Ay De Mi

O bird, that used to press,
Thy head against my cheek
With touch that seem'd to speak,
And ask a tender 'yes' -
Ay de mi, my bird:
Ay de mi, my bird, my bird -
Ay de mi, my bird.

O tender downy breast,
And warmly beating heart,
That beating seem'd a part
Of me who gave it rest -
Ay de mi, my bird:
Ay de mi, my bird, my bird -
Ay de mi, my bird.

poem by George Eliot
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!

The Dracula Flower

The flower was stretching
It's hand to find a honey-bee
To be embraced and kissed!
The flower remained
In meditation to invoke God
To sent her groom
As she bore the nectar
To be sucked and emptied
By the trunk of a honey-bee
The long hairy hands
Of the flower frightened
The butterflies move wantonly
The caterpillars jumping
In quest to quench the thirst!
As the flower in penance
Heard the humming
Of a honey-bee unseen
She opened her eyes
In search to up and sides
And she was enthused
To see the blue-black
Groom of her from heaven
With wings shivering
As if in a whirl wind
Moving to her lips
To kiss and empty her!
The flower leaped her hand
To embrace the honey-bee
Whose nail ladden legs
Did wand her hands
Yet she never let loose
Her embrace to get-him close
To her breast stored with honey.
The honey-bee sucking nectar
From the lips of the flower
Never see him trapped
In the tangle of figments.
He struggled and jerked
But the flower sucked
The honey-bee's life
In return to her nectar he sucked

poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Butterflies

I would spin for you a blanket
Out of gold and silver threads
I would let my gentle bosom
Be a pillow for your head
Id caress your perfect body
On a rosy bed at night
Play you love songs on a golden harp
And sing you butterflies
In a diamond-studded chalice
On an emerald-plated tray
I would bring to you sweet nectar
And gifts of bright array
I would paint for you a castle
In a blue and yellow sky
Paint you happy ever after
And paint you butterflies
Chorus:
Butterflies, my heart flutters with the notion
I get high on the wings of sweet emotion
Darling i, I just think of you and I get butterflies
I get close to you and I get butterflies
If only I were magic
I would make the wishes true
I would wave a magic wand
And be in paradise with you
But Im just a girl that loves you
I will love you all my life
But I do have a magic feeling
And it gives me butterflies
Chorus:
Butterflies, my heart flutters with the notion
I get high on the wings of sweet emotion
Darling i, I just think of you and I get butterflies
We should fly away together, you and i
Off to paradise forever, I get high
I get close to you and I get butterflies
I think of you and I get butterflies
Fade:
I will spin for you a blanket out of gold and silver threads
If only I were magic, I would make the wishes true
I would wave a magic wand and be in paradise with you

song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Regret For The Departure Of Friends

As smoke from a volcano soars in the air,
The soul of man discontent mounts from a sigh,
Exhaled as to heaven in mystical prayer,
Invoking that love which forbids him to die.

Sweet hope, lovely passion, my grief ever chase,
And scatter the gloom which veils pleasure's bright ray,
O lend me thy wings, and assist me to trace
The flight of my fair one when gone far away.

When the dim star of pleasure sets glimmering alone,
The planet of beauty on life's dreary shore,
And th' fair bird of fancy forever is flown,
On pinions of haste to be heard of no more.

Hope, tell me, dear passion, thou wilt not forget,
To flourish still sweetly and blossom as gay,
Expelling like morning the gloom of regret,
When the lark of affection is gone far away.

If hurried into some unchangeable clime,
Where oceans of pleasure continually roll,
Far, far from the limited borders of time,
With a total division of body and soul.

Hope, tell me, dear passion, which must earth survive,
That love will be sweeter when nature is o'er,
And still without pain though eternity live,
In the triumph of pleasure when time is no more.

O love, when the day-light of pleasure shall close,
Let the vesper of death break on life's dusky even;
Let the faint sun of time set in peace as it rose,
And eternity open thy morning in heaven.

Then hope, lovely passion, thy torch shall expire,
Effusing on nature life's last feeble ray;
While the night maid of love sets her taper on fire,
To guard smiling beauty from time far away.

poem by George Moses Horton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Our Little Ghost

Oft, in the silence of the night,
When the lonely moon rides high,
When wintry winds are whistling,
And we hear the owl's shrill cry,
In the quiet, dusky chamber,
By the flickering firelight,
Rising up between two sleepers,
Comes a spirit all in white.

A winsome little ghost it is,
Rosy-cheeked, and bright of eye;
With yellow curls all breaking loose
From the small cap pushed awry.
Up it climbs among the pillows,
For the 'big dark' brings no dread,
And a baby's boundless fancy
Makes a kingdom of a bed.

A fearless little ghost it is;
Safe the night seems as the day;
The moon is but a gentle face,
And the sighing winds are gay.
The solitude is full of friends,
And the hour brings no regrets;
For, in this happy little soul,
Shines a sun that never sets.

A merry little ghost it is,
Dancing gayly by itself,
On the flowery counterpane,
Like a tricksy household elf;
Nodding to the fitful shadows,
As they flicker on the wall;
Talking to familiar pictures,
Mimicking the owl's shrill call.

A thoughtful little ghost if is;
And, when lonely gambols tire,
With chubby hands on chubby knees,
It sits winking at the fire.
Fancies innocent and lovely
Shine before those baby-eyes, -
Endless fields of dandelions,
Brooks, and birds, and butterflies.

A loving little ghost it is:
When crept into its nest,
Its hand on father's shoulder laid,
Its head on mother's breast,
It watches each familiar face,
With a tranquil, trusting eye;
And, like a sleepy little bird,
Sings its own soft lullaby.

Then those who feigned to sleep before,
Lest baby play till dawn,
Wake and watch their folded flower -
Little rose without a thorn.
And, in the silence of the night,
The hearts that love it most
Pray tenderly above its sleep,
'God bless our little ghost!'

poem by Louisa May Alcott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Go Gently Into The Night

Go gently into the night
....Upon tip-toed feet...
Delicately and deliberately
....Softly. longingly into...
...The mid-night heat...
Tenderly wrap your silver legs
...'Round your lover's desiring thighs...
Embrace your lover with sheer delight
...Take one another-so high...
Of this magical moment in time
...Recorded now in heart's diary...
Account for your every second
...Of your sheer ecstacy...
And in your memories of this night
...You shall fondly recall...
...A most bliss filled union...
That answered true loves hallowed call

poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Bright Stars Sing A Song Of Joy

The bright stars sing a song of joy,
they are telling the world when you are coming to me
en continually one of them are jumping,
flowering blue-white in the heaven.
Continually the wind mentions your beautiful name,
softly it whispers our secrets to branches,
it witnesses our being together while it blows
and its pitch dark night
when your teeth glitter while you laugh in joy.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Continually the red weaver gambols

Continually the red weaver gambols around,
when the dove continually sings in sorrow
and he lands frolicking on the wet ground,
before it takes insects to its chicks
that twitter, jump up and down in the nest,
and at night when the moon rises silver-white,
when small sounds pierce through everything
then I hear a joyous song and then I hear him
tell about life, about every small thing,
when that small bird sings with caring affection.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!