Annabel
Elusive wraith haunted me,
ideally I felt to approach her,
maybe she lived in a pine tree,
intangible, splendid and fair..
Nightly moon, our emotions,
euphoriant we danced in air,
abstinent needs and notions,
star visions in a sky to stare.
Our tree pines foliage dither,
winds whisper amid needles,
Annabel of March will shiver
a cold lone snowflake fiddles.
Annabel in cold March of 89,
waits to embrace winds again,
it is that same Spring of mine,
that forth will mizzle our rain.
Rain dances when cumulus fly
drops dropp on celestial aisle
utopia fields wait for my reply
Annabel stares soft to smile.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Related quotes
Farewell To Annabel
Where did ya go when the snow lay on the ground
What did ya do when the rain began to fall
How did it feel when I looked through your soul
When was the last time you wanted my love
How many nights did you cry your dreams to sleep
Why did you hide what you knew would not stay hidden
How could you put yourself through like you did
Im not the kind that would hold you that way
Drop me a line if ya wake up feelin bad
Im still a friend and Id like to hear from you
Where does it say love should last forever
When was the last time I told that to you
Farewell to annabel, farewell
Farewell to annabel, farewell
Farewell to annabel, fare thee well
Farewell to annabel, farewell
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Annabel Lee
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love —
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me —
Yes! — that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we —
Of many far wiser than we —
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling — my darling — my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
poem by Edgar Allan Poe (1849)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Red Wine Spill
Red wine spill
Her voice I waited for, amid the foliage shades,
now with the oncoming of her Spring, she fades;
She appeared once; a tear of my soul to dither,
then she lifted in cumulus, where winds blither;
Zephyr was traveling above, my lone assession,
My penitence she kissed along, and aspersion;
A red wine spill betimes, diluted days of rain,
diluted rain's wine spill, of tear drops to attain;
Winds blither - she appeared once; in my tear,
a laughing gust of the wind, my soul to shear;
And then her wraith shadow, guided my hopes,
To laugh again among the winds, and new scopes;
To laugh with me amidst the winds, she 'll come,
Life will reach an apogee, and heart will thrum;
To laugh with me amidst the raindrops, in clouds,
with a boat to float in winds from sails' shrouds;
_________
shrouds = (nautical) a line (rope or chain) that regulates
the angle at which a sail is set in relation to the wind.
_________
Copyright © - G. V.- 03.29.2012
/ PoemH.30459086
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Arcanum Bride
Arcanum Bride
She came to me, unspoiled maid an' fair;
remote echo of church bells, on Sunday;
her face was angelical in droplets of air;
she flied into nothingness, there to stay.
She flied amid cumulus to bestow drops;
Acceptable by me were, her gray clouds;
Amid my dusk shadows above tree tops,
Imparted were her Fall's mizzle shrouds;
There I was, arbiter of an arcanum bride,
amid tenths of heaven's scents, in ambit,
a spread of nimbus favored me, but cried,
her glance was a rain dance and splendid!
She stared at me from yonder stills, airy;
Utopian reality to overreach me lifeless;
Trumpets of Angels played in notes merry,
her eerie disposal and bridal affableness;
Thus I accepted her in Acheronian gleam;
thousand tears of raining, arcanum song;
she sang above the cumulus in odd deem,
crowning my wax noctilucent, and lifelong.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Annabel
(don henley/john corey)
I watch you sleeping
My weary heart rises up on wings
I hear your laughter
Something deep down inside me sings
Way down here in the land of cotton
You were born on a rainy day
Since then, sweet things long forgotten
They just keep flooding back my way
Oh child, I cannot tell you how the time just flies
But I have had my days of glory under sunny skies
These days, your bright dreams are all I want to see
Sleep tight, annabel
You can always count on me
In this cold world, folks will judge you
Though they dont know you at all
And I may not be there to catch you
Anytime that you might fall
But, you got my hard head
And your mothers grace
All the likeness of the loved ones right there in your face
And I know in the end youll be who you will be
So sleep tight, annabel
You can always count on me
song performed by by Don Henley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Rain of March
The Fitful Showers of March
The rain of March, the rain of March
Came again
Came slanting down in full force
With pattering sound on the tin roof
Splashes of cold water wetted everything
The dry sand all around shone with a dazzle
The woodland paths softened with the tears
Of the blue sky.
For whom the sky wept?
The little leaves on the boughs
Quenched their thirst
Who washed all their heat and pain
The rain of March, the rain of March
Came again.
poem by Ratan Bhattacharjee
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The Witches of Little Begone
Little Begone was a tiny place
Untouched by the fronds of time,
The cottages there, since Edward the third
Had lain in a valley sublime,
Wisteria climbed at the cottage walls
Where lilies and lilacs grew,
And over a fence, the witches stared,
In Little Begone there were two.
They hated each other in Little Begone,
The youngest was Annabel Prank,
She'd stolen the seeds of a magical herb
From the garden of old Mother Skank,
So Skank put a spell on her garden that
Instead of the herbs, would grow
An army of huge zucchini's that
Would spread, right into the road.
Annabel tried to dig them out
But they seemed to grow and grow,
‘That will teach you to mess with me, '
Old Mother Skank had crowed.
So Annabel stormed back into the house
And put on her witches hat,
She turned Skank's cat to a cockerel,
And her cockerel into a cat!
Skank didn't know ‘til the cock miaowed
And the cat began to crow,
‘I've more spells than you know about, '
She screamed from the path below,
She sent an army of ugly toads
To breed in her neighbour's pond,
While Annabel watched the zucchini's grow
And sank in a deep despond.
That night she summoned up Beelzebub
While Skank sat down to plot,
Set fire to her neighbour's chimney piece
And shattered the chimney pots,
So Skank called up an army of bats
To nest in her rival's eaves,
When Annabel ran, with bats in her hair
Skank followed her through the trees.
They fought, pulled hair, and scratched and screamed
‘Til the neighbour's all came out,
‘Isn't it time that we ducked these two, '
Said the blacksmith, Simon Stout.
They seized and carried them down to the pond
And they brought the ducking chair,
Then ducked them both, and they both came up
With pondweed in their hair.
‘If you don't behave in Little Begone
Begone is what you'll be,
We've had enough of your witch's tricks
Since fifteen forty three! '
Now Annabel sells zucchini's at
The market, by the bank,
And she always looks the other way
When she spots old Mother Skank!
6 September 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Butterflies
women are like butterflies
dad always said
when he was alive
oh how true that is
mom, sisters, aunties,
they are all butterflies
with colourful stories
to tell of their love
and alluring attire
as they dance out
the steps of life
fly in and out of days
gathering memories
golden, sweet, light
and fluid as honey
kisses, presents, flowers and all
cupboards full of cotton, silk, crepe,
lace, and what have you?
a million shades and styles
to draw on life
you could see them
flutter into dreams
where roses, orchids,
crocuses, hibiscus
magnolias, scent
the way of paradise
each twirls, swirls, twists,
waltzes, discos, pirouettes
through that memory lane
where diversity and thirst for
life lifts them from bloom to bloom
where a million years might
have passed and one will
still be digging in to feed on
those joy capsuled moments
though they are fleeting
as worms that morph
into lavae, butterflies
and rainbow
big sister loves her
graceful skirt in that shade
passionate as rosy red
second sister's
favourite blouse
innocent as lily white
third sister's lace
covered night gown
makes her look a real ballerina
ever ready to fly the way of
butterfly
to talk about butterflies
snappy dad was correct when
he said women are like butterflies
they fly into your life
bringing colours and sweetness
if you know where to look for
the right ones
open the window of your heart wide
and you see them flutter, flap, dance
in so many ways into your life
inspired by
Annabel Lee
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes! - that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
Edgar Allan Poe #31
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Annabel Lee
annabel lee
my love
as you breathe
in my dream
the sea sings, sighs
plays the strings
of my heart
only you can reach
those heart wrenching
low bass tones
a man's lost voice
from despair
the waves lift, twirl,
surge in all directions
oh, my longing to meet you
since you were gone
a craving for you
reprised so touchingly
by the sea
the volume of my tears
for annabel lee
the wind sweeps
over and over
a friend
the sea leaps, leaps
towards sky
how i desire you this moment
and it rains
your tears
the waves roar, roll,
my longing for you
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wraith II
A call of the gust speaks thousand words
passing amid the weeping cries of Cedars,
bears up souls in woods, lost nightly hordes,
amounting solitude, of Pine needle guitars;
Wind is blowing mournful amid the foliage,
while rain's droplets whisper caressing,
leaves that rest on the ground to assuage,
the wraith's solitude, of self addressing.
Denoting calls in the breeze, a black Alder,
designing spirals of airy spells, around Fir,
a wraith whirls in twilit dance; sky's border,
were we subdued in lightless and void glare?
Rain is falling, souls turned up to bedizen,
skies are blessing the form that sky-rises,
benignant smiles spirits bestow to glazen,
as lonely Dryads spell whispering advises.
The wraith whirls in twilit play; to faraway,
beckons above Oaks shingle, her dusky wing,
our souls in woods, ghosts of a dour Sunday,
dwell in Cedars; call of cold gust and sting.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Tree's Love
Tree's are
Loving
The rain....
Rain all
Most come
Again and again come's
For sea dipression
People are shouted
The rain...
'what is this rain...? ! '
Are some thing....
But...
Green full tree's
Take bath and refresh
Dance with air...
Drops are rain
Little little bit
Nicely kiss too kiss
The tree's body's
And leave's enjoy...!
With rain drops kissess...
Enjoy the tree's too love
Rain is the life of tree's
Tree' s is the life of rain...!
So...
Love the tree's for rain...? ! ? ? ! ! !
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Dew Drops
Outranged's the meadow's faraway,
where sky sheds winter's first cold drops,
the lyre of winds in bogs will play,
nocturnal dance and moon's ballet,
the shelter sheds will ring sky drops,
silence responds - her voice atop,
the blooms in mists salute and sway,
tis where she felt her tears' dew drops.
Commendable the feast expands,
in time the dancers reach the fair,
rain drops will fall on green dewed grass,
musicians' violins and trumps,
her siren's voice responds with flair,
night solitude's bird singers stare,
in mists salute the wraiths who pass,
as rain drops dew her face and flare.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Valor is abraded
Soldier of oddities, autumnal fog
aborning valor, confer to overfly
recalling his home, in misty bog
counting raindrops, of a gray sky..
Valor is abraded, functions a log,
his red diluted, in drizzle complies
Maiden of oddities, autumnal rain,
recalls his dark uniform, and rank,
he smiled departing, in dark train,
acclaiming prowess, his eyes sunk..
Rain drops fall from skies above,
adorning a smile, clouds to assay,
he stares in solitude, a courtly love,
her sweet glance, upon their quay..
Friendly raindrops. of a gray sky,
form splendid, in clouds ascends,
staring at cumulus, a mizzle nigh,
sweetly waving, amid his friends..
Honor is abraded, beckons away,
his crimson diluted, in rain amends.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Ode of Abigail
Ode of Abigail
Drops of twinkle rain were expecting you,
to render your nocturnal forms; hex play,
Ode of Abigail on waves sprinkled quay;
Was she a mizzle wraith form, blue bayou,
Drenched form waiting persistent to sway;
Drops of twinkle rain were expecting you;
Pelting on fields upwards to skies, eschew,
smiling dream; form made of soul and clay,
Ode of Abigail on waves sprinkled quay;
Out on the faraway to hold, April's dew
Referred to aboves, winter clouds of gray,
Drops of twinkle rain were expecting you;
Blissful to far, a stare she was, sea view,
redeeming icon and lift, Heaven's display;
Ode of Abigail on waves sprinkled quay;
She was unreached, lady agleam on blue,
perceiving Winter's cold raindrops spray,
Drops of twinkle rain were expecting you;
Ode of Abigail on waves sprinkled quay.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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I Heard You Spelling My Name
I oddly heard you spelling my name
I answered in the winter winds
the winds blamed my voice still -
your words, a gray cumulus became.
A thunder roar, a storm advent
a message to the gods, dim, latent
my souls depict a thunder's wrath
as I expiate in rain drops thrust.
Not an allusion of a Zeus lightning
all there is real, a force blinding
Athermanous, wet flesh enthralled
and rain-scattered feelings exposed.
I love those drops that kiss my face,
in my esteem, a diamonds edge to trace,
accepts the kindness of this storm,
and this adoration becomes a thorn.
that sweetly penetrates my dream
that attentively out traces my smile
that lovingly stings my eyes gleam
and my words for you compile.
I heard you spelling my name; 't was
a dithering in the winds to abide
the winds became then my voice's loss,
my life, a cumulus became and died.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Maid Of Sol
Ideal 'n' unalterable, merit believer,
travels on misty links of a lone soul;
a wraith I am in her mind, a glimmer,
she spells orisons, rainy maid of Sol;
and in a blest of time she descends,
from distant cumulus, collected rain,
amid blessings and dusk lights amends,
amid pensive lines to weave and reign.
Pondering 's the wind, waves foliage;
my sky reflects a deeper blue of sea;
continents away; a ruminative adage,
her lips will sing this ode on our quay.
With smiling face, gallivants in gusts;
quotable's her bestowed love, noble,
amid the upheaval of roiled thrusts,
a voice responds, far away to global.
She comes to encounter years in rain,
amid clouds, of sky turbulent extend,
caressed face, softens my soul again,
My love inordinate in dusk to ascend.
The sky loves her, as darkness cares
to cover us within blasts and billows;
and she extends upwards to sky fares;
and in the winds my voice crossflows.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Rainbow
rain comes unexpectedly
and i take shelter under a tree
looking around
for comfort in the cold
a bird sings
on a branch and
i listen to the notes
floating in the air
needles of rain
soft light arriving on the hills
a rainbow
bridging two feet
over there
i watch this beauty
i smile for a promise
that the Lord
has restated in my heart
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Soldier of bronze
Bound thoughts transform to trees;
black alders are implanted in forest,
where the winds embrace 'em free
and rain drops pour to their closest.
Winter winds around trees consent,
their foliage sweep, dithering gusts;
as their firm trunks upwards extent,
pointing to skies and selected stars.
Shadows float, as hours thump near,
adjacent to his entity, walking friends,
joyous in a silver solitude to appear,
soothing count that his sins amends.
And while a joyful and moonlit glow,
dances on rhymed cadence meters,
a ghost will stay with flakes of snow,
and fly above the pastoral features.
Maids will pass, in light snow above
amid sky clouds in black agate hue,
daughters of solitude to bestow love,
embracing shapes and kindly imbue.
A soldier of bronze dances his fever
in alder forest to sway his dead life,
thrown in with his song of a griever,
a crown of laurel and his wraith wife.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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While yet we wait for spring, and from the dry
While yet we wait for spring, and from the dry
And blackening east that so embitters March,
Well-housed must watch grey fields and meadows parch,
And driven dust and withering snowflake fly;
Already in glimpses of the tarnish'd sky
The sun is warm and beckons to the larch,
And where the covert hazels interarch
Their tassell'd twigs, fair beds of primrose lie.
Beneath the crisp and wintry carpet hid
A million buds but stay their blossoming;
And trustful birds have built their nests amid
The shuddering boughs, and only wait to sing
Till one soft shower from the south shall bid,
And hither tempt the pilgrim steps of spring.
poem by Robert Seymour Bridges
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Eve of loves
Eve of loves sleeps in pelting letters,
perfect words of her wistful memory,
sadden Spring strings, 'n' scopes to avoid,
Eve rains her melancholy, 'n' petters,
cold mizzle drops recall her anchory,
bedewed smiles fly my air voices, to void.
She gallivants years of lingering calls,
laugh modes of erstwhile words mine,
Eve of loves, silently my dreams bestows..
Cold drops from tall skies always fall,
Eve's tears, doleful drops, facial sign,
Months of solitude, form our rain billows.
Pictures talk, as time wears fetters,
Eve of drizzles feasts on night knoll,
lone destiny sings modes of our life line.
Blissfully comes, with nice laughter,
Eve's doleful rain drops of skies tall,
are compliant to solitude of nigh after.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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