Licia Sonnets 37
I speak, fair Licia, what my torments be,
But then my speech too partial do I find;
For hardly words can with those thoughts agree,
Those thoughts that swarm in such a troubled mind.
Then do I vow my tongue shall never speak
Nor tell my grief that in my heart doth lie;
But cannon-like, I then surcharged do break,
And so my silence worse than speech I try.
Thus speech or none, they both do breed my care;
I live dismayed, and kill my heart with grief;
In all respects my case alike doth fare
To him that wants, and dare not ask relief.
Then you, fair Licia, sovereign of my heart,
Read to yourself my anguish and my smart.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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Licia Sonnets 38
Sweet, I protest, and seal it with an oath:
I never saw that so my thoughts did please;
And yet content displeased I see them wroth
To love so much and cannot have their ease.
I told my thoughts, my sovereign made a pause,
Disposed to grant, but willing to delay;
They then repined, for that they knew no cause,
And swore they wished she flatly would say nay.
Thus hath my love my thoughts with treason filled,
And 'gainst my sovereign taught them to repine.
So thus my treason all my thoughts hath killed,
And made fair Licia say she is not mine.
But thoughts too rash my heart doth now repent;
And as you please, they swear, they are content.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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Licia Sonnets 36
Hear how my sighs are echoed of the wind;
See how my tears are pitied by the rain;
Feel what a flame possesséd hath my mind;
Taste but the grief which I possess in vain.
Then if my sighs the blustering winds surpass,
And wat'ry tears the drops of rain exceed,
And if no flame like mine nor is nor was,
Nor grief like that whereon my soul doth feed,
Relent, fair Licia, when my sighs do blow;
Yield at my tears, that flintlike drops consume;
Accept the flame that doth my incense show,
Allow the grief that is my heart's perfume.
Thus sighs and tears, flame, grief shall plead for me;
So shall I pray, and you a goddess be.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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When to her Lute Corinna Sings
When to her lute Corinna sings,
Her voice revives the leaden strings,
And doth in highest notes appear,
As any challenged echo clear;
But when she doth of mourning speak,
E'en with her sighs, the strings do break,
And as her lute doth live or die,
Led by her passion, so must I:
For when of pleasure she doth sing,
My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring,
But if she doth of sorrow speak,
E'en from my heart the strings do break
poem by Thomas Campion
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Corinna
When to her lute Corinna sings,
Her voice revives the leaden strings,
And doth in highest notes appear
As any challenged echo clear.
But when she doth of mourning speak,
Even with her sighs the strings do break.
And as her lute doth live or die;
Led by her passion, so must I.
For when of pleasure she doth sing,
My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring;
But if she doth of sorrow speak,
Even from my heart the strings do break.
poem by Thomas Campion
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After my recent brush with voicelessness, I thought I'd share with you a few thoughts about speech. Don't take it lightly my friends. If music is the pathway to the heart as Voltaire suggested, then speech is the pathway to other people. Live in silence and you live alone.
quote by Henry Bromel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Licia Sonnets 46
If he be dead, in whom no heart remains,
Or lifeless be in whom no life is found;
If he do pine that never comfort gains,
And be distressed that hath his deadly wound;
Then must I die whose heart elsewhere is clad,
And lifeless pass the greedy worms to feed;
Then must I pine that never comfort had,
And be distressed whose wound with tears doth bleed.
Which if I do, why do I not wax cold?
Why rest I not like one that wants a heart?
Why move I still like him that life doth hold,
And sense enjoy both of my joy and smart?
Like Niobe queen which made a stone did weep,
Licia my heart dead and alive doth keep
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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Licia Sonnets 49
If that I die, fair Licia, with disdain,
Or heartless live surpriséd with thy wrong,
Then heavens and earth shall accent both my pain,
And curse the time so cruel and so long.
If you be kind, my queen, as you are fair,
And aid my thoughts that still for conquest strive,
Then will I sing and never more despair,
And praise your kindness whilst I am alive.
Till then I pay the tribute of my tears,
To move thy mercy and thy constant truth.
Respect, fair love, how these with sorrow wears
The truest heart unless it find some ruth.
Then grace me, sweet, and with thy favor raise me,
So shall I live and all the world shall praise thee.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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As None Other Will Listen Me In Silence
god! whoever or whatever may you be
make my life simple
thoughts noble
speech striving towards truth
heart rushing to help the needy
head neither bloated nor depressed
mind never treating another
inferior or bankrupt of talent-
a resolve to walk alone
the path of righteousness against odds
a desire not exceeding my needs
a belief just capable of consoling my grief
and putting me back on life's unending stream!
god, i know i come to you with tears and pains
not in the hope i will see light
but to unburden my heart of my grief
as none other will listen me in total silence.
-s.chandra kalaadhar.
02.12.2012 / sunday
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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0013 And, Friend...
and if you wonder, friend, why I begin
a poem thus – you are to understand
that it’s as if
we have been close friends all our life,
friends, as Kabir defined a friend
as if no-one ever tried to speak of friend before –
friends, who share the silences between their words
as much as sharing their most inward thoughts;
so, our conversation’s just as much
a continuation of our friendship,
wasting no time in speaking passing things,
sharing some new thought in turn
and asking more for listening
than easy agreement for politeness’ sake;
for, we’re listening to the allness of the all -
all that has been said and
all that cannot yet be said
but thought in silences, in pauses between speech,
all that we might say
when we find words in which to say it,
and because
there’s not much time, to say what we would say
and so, we speak of that which time
can never steal; so there is always time
to speak, and hear the silence
out of which speech comes;
listening for the unspoken
bringing miracles
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Sonnet 51: Pardon Mine Ears
Pardon mine ears, both I and they do pray,
So may your tongue still fluently proceed,
To them that do such entertainment need,
So may you still have somewhat new to say.
On silly me do not the burden lay,
Of all the grave conceits your brain doth breed;
But find some Hercules to bear, instead
Of Atlas tir'd, your wisdom's heav'nly sway.
For me, while you discourse of courtly tides,
Of cunning fishers in most troubled streams,
Of straying ways, when valiant error guides:
Meanwhile my heart confers with Stella's beams
And is even irk'd that so sweet comedy,
By such unsuited speech should hinder'd be.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Speeeeeech!
does it make difference you speak in front of many people or alone
does it make difference you speech in historic place or in your toilet
does it make difference you are charismatic leader or unknown beggar from streetside
it makes difference you speak to clash conflict or for better world
it makes difference you speech bonded by past or to move forward
it makes difference you depend by fact or just soap service
does it make difference you read from text or speak fluently
does it make difference you speech in busy market or deserted mountain
does it make difference you write words yourself or scrap it from books and paper
it makes difference everybody exitedly listens or sleeps peacefully on their seats
it makes difference you have freedom to speak or prisoned by intimidation
it makes difference it gives effect or just a long boring speech
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Licia Sonnets 18
I swear, fair Licia, still for to be thine,
By heart, by eyes, by what I held most dear;
Thou checked mine oath, and said: these were not mine,
And that I had no right by them to swear.
Then by my sighs, my passions, and my tears,
My vows, my prayers, my sorrow, and my love,
My grief, my joy, my hope, and hopeless fears,
My heart is thine, and never shall remove.
These are not thine, though sent unto thy view,
All else I grant, by right they are thine own;
Let these suffice that what I swear is true,
And more than this if that it could be known.
So shall all these though troubles ease my grief;
If that they serve to work in thee belief.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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Skilful Doctor
Function if you are enough skill,
Or work on nobody in front of you.
The words dawdle the air as you speak,
We have understood them now for you speak.
This palaver describes my speech as solid,
Liquids do run thick, liquify your body.
Overpowering speech is a collection of words
Promulgating action and acts of speech as well.
This policy has remained since the weather
Changed last week, lasting peace has remained.
We are authority, we have skills no person retains,
Both us and you are learned in doctoring.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Guard your roving thoughts with a jealous care, for speech is but the dialer of thoughts, and every fool can plainly read in your words what is the hour of your thoughts.
quote by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Thoughts
Thought in the eyes,
The ears.
Thought in mind,
The brain,
Thought in heart,
The soul.
Great thought is great
when it becomes great deeds.
With my thoughts within
Building my world within
Learning with thought;
Is great learning wisdom.
Learning without thought,
Is opportunity lost.
Thought for others
Thought for God
Thought for good
Thought for God’s blessing
Thoughts teach me,
Thoughts educate me,
Thoughts clarify me,
Thoughts enlighten me.
Thoughts make me wise
Thoughts make me patience
Thoughts make me trust others
Thoughts make me clam.
Thoughts before act
Is smart and wise
Act before thoughts
Is stupid and foolish
That’s my thoughts
They make thinking clear
They make belief deepen
They make confidence high.
In thoughts, my world
In my world, make my thoughts.
In thoughts, my words
In my words, make my speech
It’s my thoughts count
Counting my thoughts
To endless counting thoughts
Thinking the thoughts endlessly
My thoughts and thoughts again.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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Dearest, this one day we own
DEAREST, this one day we own,
Stolen from the crowd and press,
Let it be sweet silence's.
We two, heart in heart, alone;
Any speech were less.
We are weary, even thus,
Talk might turn to discontent
Else be practised merriment:
Earth and sky will speak for us
Nearer as we meant.
We two in the stillness, dear,
Fair dreams come without our quest;
Not to talk of life is best.
Ah, our holiday is here,Let it all be rest.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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Licia Sonnets 21
Licia my love was sitting in a grove,
Tuning her smiles unto the chirping songs,
But straight she spied where two together strove,
Each one complaining of the other's wrongs.
Cupid did cry lamenting of the harm;
Jove's messenger, thou wrong'st me too too far;
Use thou thy rod, rely upon the charm;
Think not by speech my force thou canst debar.
A rod, Sir boy, were fitter for a child,
My weapons oft and tongue and mind you took;
And in my wrong at my distress thou smiled,
And scorned to grace me with a loving look.
Speak you, sweet love, for you did all the wrong
That broke his arrows, and did bind his tongue.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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Good Speech
Think not, because thine inmost heart means well,
Thou hast the freedom of rude speech: sweet words
Are like the voices of returning birds
Filling the soul with summer, or a bell
That calls the weary and the sick to prayer.
Even as thy thought, so let thy speech be fair.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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Licia Sonnets 40
My grief begun, fair saint, when first I saw
Love in those eyes sit ru]ing with disdain,
Whose sweet commands did keep a world in awe,
And caused them serve your favor to obtain.
I stood as one enchanted with a frown,
Yet smiled to see all creatures serve those eyes,
Where each with sighs paid tribute to that crown,
And thought them gracéd by your dumb rep]ies.
But I, ambitious, could not be content
Till that my service more than sighs made known;
And for that end my heart to you I sent
To say and swear that, fair, it is your own.
Then greater graces, Licia, do impart,
Not dumb replies unto a speaking heart.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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Sonnet 58: Doubt There Hath Been
Doubt there hath been, when with his golden chain
The Orator so far men's hearts doth bind,
That no place else their guided steps can find,
But as he them more short or slack doth rein,
Whether with words this sovereignty he gain,
Cloth'd with fine tropes, with strongest reasons lin'd,
Or else pronouncing grace, wherewith his mind
Prints his own lively form in rudest brain:
Now judge by this, in piercing phrases late,
Th'anatomy of all my woes I wrate;
Stella's sweet breath the same to me did read.
Oh voice, oh face! maugre my speech's might,
Which wooed woe, most ravishing delight
E'en those sad words, e'en in sad me did breed.
poem by Philip Sidney
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