Love
Love
Love is a rose
Love speaks a prose
It fruits make delight
It thorns take a bite
Leaves give a morning clue
Young fresh with autumn dew
Sconed by the sun it shivers too
But till the bitter end it remains true
copyright(c) 2012 godfrey morris
poem by Godfrey Morris
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My Best
My Best
by godfrey morris (January 19,2012)
I raise my head to the sky
Just as the eagle flaps its wings to the heavens
Then gazes at my target with grand precision
The going it tough, life swings one way
Then back again,
Which make you wonder
How to go?
My stage in the arena comes then goes
Until one other takes its place
I pounce like the panther to achieve that imaginable prize
But somehow complete redemption eludes my rise
The dream though shall never rest
My hope still lives
To give the best,
And be the best there is to be
yet still, my best is always me
copyright © 2012
poem by Godfrey Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pondering upon the Rose on a Sunday Morning......
The symbol of love
When giving in love a rose speaks for itself
The beauty is picturesque
The scent it gives lasting for ever
The rose never seen without her thorns
Still who can not feel happiness when a rose is seen or given?
Even for a brief minute, a second the rose brings a smile
Or perhaps a small sigh of delight
If one were to think upon a rose…
The thorns… the beauty…
The petals that carry the essence…
That lingers even after it is withered
If one were compare to our Lord…
He held thorns upon his precious head; the head of the rose is above the thorns
His love was known for its beauty and compassion, the rose noted for love
His words and Spirit lingers for eternity much like the scent of the rose
My Lord created the Rose
Perhaps he created it for remembrance of His son
Looking upon the rose I see it all so clearly
The meaning of love
The beauty
An essence that shall always be with me
poem by Patricia Gale
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Bitter Blow of Love
Love! you dealt a bitter blow –
You lay me cross the mortal plains,
Bedewed, bedimmed amongst a show
Of tearful clouds: eternal rains
To weep at my enduring foe
Of harsh reality – searing pains of
Destiny: dependable propensity
To fool myself repeatedly
That I could ever triumph over love!
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow of love, oh love
Love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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London 2012
London 2012
by godfrey morris
Alignment of stars shoots high
Parading four years' worth
Of bestowed heavenly gifts
East follows West
North greets his South
At the compass of time
Where the Big Ben chimes
Every nation, each tongue
There they fold!
Promise fulfilling golden goal
A flag to wave
A crowd to cheer
A will to give
A song to sing
Once again they have gathered
To dazzle us eyes
With wondrous strides
As Zeus lightning bolt - runs by
To hold a throne
To take the world
To be atoned
To claim a victory
To walk with history
Copyright © 2012
poem by Godfrey Morris
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Today's Chances
Today's Chances
by godfrey morris
When I think of this,
A guilt preludes, of all the lives
Fallen from grace's eyes
Those that had not a chance
Those that had too few
How would they fare,
Had they been here?
Those lights shine dim today
And still here am I!
I have a chance today!
However so tall
However so far
A chance to do after all
Copyright © 2012
poem by Godfrey Morris
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R..o..s..e
Remember when I would offer you a rose,
you would consider it as the precious gift of love,
When you would smell the rose and fondly smile,
I would be intoxicated with the sweet fragrance of your love.
On those dreary winter days when you would be away,
my heart would be lonely with the misery of separation,
I would feel the like rose bushes stranded in snow,
where all the leaves were parting one by one.
Somewhere in the tenderness and softness of the rose petals,
lies my delicate and innocent love,
sometimes the thorns pick and hurt,
sometime love is full of fear, sometimes it hurts.
Everlasting beauty of the rose remains in my heart,
even when the rose blossoms, fades and withers,
My love is immortal like rose,
which never dies in the heart as I love you so much.
poem by Jay P Narain
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A Poem
A verse am I, in a twist,
Listen! You will hear, and get this gist
A prose, confounded in a diet of words
Holding expressions of virtue, to my world
One so hidden in simple complexities
Speak thus, in a whisper to receive a rhyme
A metaphor for the mysteries mime,
Seeking an imaginary audience to hear.
copyright (c) 2012
poem by Godfrey Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Petal Of Rose
I gazed upon the sky, YOU and I
Once a young lover, that I was, love didn't die
THE SECRET LEAVES OF MY NOTEBOOK holds
A love letter, it now unfolds
ONE PETAL OF ROSE
Keeping all of its lies
From a teenage game once played:
'She loves me, she loves me not'
She, MY INVISBLE FRIEND,
Has the blood of my mother's tree
That voids the query: IS IT JUST a FRIEND?
Since the days of THE GOMEZ's OF 1970
So, what more do a thief in disguise proves
Back then when love was excessive fantasy
But one petal of rose should remain to stay
In the secret leaves of my notebook, or it roves
These poems can bear one clue after clue
Yet nothing more than they can reveal
The same young lover from an old barrio
In LOVE, but by all means, they're surreal
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Hungry For Love
Moms old fashion cooking
Caviar and champagne
A meal at mcdonalds
Nothing fills a man when hes hungry for love
Give him love, make him feel all right
Give him love, help him sleep at night
Give him love, give him one more bite
Hes hungry for love (give him that)
An ounce of sweet jamaican
A snowy spoon of powder
A half a pint of bushmills
Nothing gets you high when youre hungry for love
Give me love, make me feel all right
Give me love, help me sleep at night
Give me love, give me one more bite
Im hungry for love (give me love, give me love)
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Roses Have Thorns
Of all the flowers I've ever seen,
The lovely rose holds the most mystery.
Almost queenly in majestic beauty,
A thing of perfected artistry.
It comes in so many varied colors,
Its fragrance unique among all flowers,
A floral gem you'd enjoy for hours,
An exquisite rose is the flower of lovers.
But like a lady of wondrous charm,
Such beauty can cause a little harm.
The rose has thorns that make one bleed,
And hurts the hand that crushes it.
Some women like the rose have thorns,
When in their hearts true love is born.
The love you pledge do not forfeit-
A woman can bleed your heart....
and
crush it.
Copyright 2008 - Cynthia B. Baello
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Till The Day I Die
(coverdale)
When ice cold winds of winter
Chill me to the bone,
An thoughts of summer breezes
Turn my heart to stone
Thats when I need a hand to guide me,
When its more than I can bear
A shoulder I can cry on,
Someone to lead me there
An give me love,
Give me love,
Give me love
Till the day I die,
Till the day I die
Slowly I awaken
To the weavers plan for me,
To drift upon the waters
Of my own uncertainty,
To look for a companion
Who will share my destiny,
A guiding hand to understand
An walk to road with me
An give me love,
Give me love,
Give me love
Till the day I die,
Till the day I die
I wanna be the master of my destiny,
I never wanna crawl an beg for no sympathy,
When everything I have is yours,
An all I ask of you
Is give me love.
Give me love,
Give me love
Till the day I die,
Till the day I die
I never wanna be the first
To show Im down,
But, Im never gonna wear the frozen smile of a clown
When everything I have is yours
And all I ask of you
Is give me love
Give me love,
Give me love
Till the day I die,
Till the day I die
Give me love,
Give me love,
Give me love.
Till the day I die
Give me love,
Give me love,
Give me love.
Till the day I die
Till the day I die...
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life
Life is precious
A gem on the sands of shores.
Though often treated as if it matters little.
Life is the beauty of the world.
As a rose, it blooms in season.
Hides in it the souls of all reasons.
Life is the sun it comes and then goes
Each life adds something new
Good or bad is what we make of it.
Life is worth living.
Sometimes worth dying for-
but never in life you throw away.
Each life must be treasured its very natural end.
copyright © 2012
poem by Godfrey Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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George Edmunds' Song
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around he here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
How like the hopes of childhood's day,
Thick clust'ring on the bough!
How like those hopes in their decay-
How faded are they now!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
Wither'd leaves, wither'd leaves, that fly before the gale:
Withered leaves, withered leaves, ye tell a mournful tale,
Of love once true, and friends once kind,
And happy moments fled:
Dispersed by every breath of wind,
Forgotten, changed, or dead!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
poem by Charles Dickens
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Autumn Love
I met her in the autumn;
When such are found, you know.
She said, 'In all her glory.'
Though joking, oh how so!
So true, I did inform her.
But then, to no surprise.
Such things are never certain
In autumn's paradise.
An autumn love, so firmly,
May grasp a loving heart;
It still may seem together,
Though broken from the start.
Through autumn, when it found me.
Through winter's frozen years.
Such love alive in springtime,
Brings forth a rain of tears.
That's why the loves of autumn
Display a special trait.
The heartbreak, comes much sooner.
The love ends, much too late.
For young love, it's more tragic.
Although it's torn apart,
The yearning never ceases
Around a virgin heart.
So when the tears of springtime
Give way and summer looms;
The autumn love, once tempting,
Ignores the soul it dooms.
And then, the autumn comes again
For young loves one and all.
Changing then, its name once more,
From autumn to the fall.
poem by Greenwolfe 1962
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Love Come To Me
Love, come to me in rose of red,
to lie upon my loveless bed ~
now filled with thorns of passions past,
into the wind, the thorns I cast.
Love, come to me in lilac hue,
with scented breath of lilac blue
and essence of love's lost repast ~
into the wind, lost love I cast.
Love, come to me in leaves of green,
with greening leaves of emerald sheen ~
awaiting in the brambling bough,
into the wind, I cast love now.
Love, come to me in yellowed fields,
lined with the golden daffodils ~
awaiting love to come along,
into the wind, I cast love's song.
Love, come to me in rose of red,
to rest and dream upon my bed ~
with scented breath of lilac blue
and daffodils of golden hue.
Love, come to me in nature's light.
It pleasures me with every sight ~
of red, and blue, and golden hue,
into the wind, I cast love true.
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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The Flower of Love
'Tis said the rose is Love's own flower,
Its blush so bright, its thorns so many;
And winter on its bloom has power,
But has not on its sweetness any.
For though young Love's ethereal rose
Will droop on Age's wintry bosom,
Yet still its faded leaves disclose
The fragrance of their earliest blossom.
But ah! the fragrance lingering there
Is like the sweets that mournful duty
Bestows with sadly-soothing care,
To deck the grave of bloom and beauty.
For when its leaves are shrunk and dry,
Its blush extinct, to kindle never,
That fragrance is but Memory's sigh,
That breathes of pleasures past for ever.
Why did not Love the amaranth choose,
That bears no thorns, and cannot perish ?
Alas! no sweets its flowers diffuse,
And only sweets Love's life can cherish.
But be the rose and amaranth twined,
And Love, their mingled powers assuming,
Shall round his brows a chaplet bind,
For ever sweet, for ever blooming.
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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Love is like a rose
Roses are red, yes that is true, it's often
said, as said, 'i love you' when the petals die
and fall to the ground the world remains silent
without a sound when the rose blooms and
becomes bright red one day, too soon that rose will fall
dead love is like a rose, WONT LAST LONG, nobody knows,
why love goes wrong, when the leaves curl up and sink below
is when one gives up, why? i dont know. from a touch of the
stem to a kiss on the nose no one understands
why love is like a rose
BY: Ashley Burtrum
poem by Brittany Burtrum
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The Eclipse
This world has been without its moon for far too long
Steadfastly clinging to the silent sky.
Must light be absent from mankind's arid heart?
Darkness hides its soul and spares not the one that glows
Will not the earth be apprehensive of the gloom this brings?
Nightly shadows hover in a pause to mark a very worthy cause
For without love, peace will surely elude us all.
Copyright © 2012
poem by Godfrey Morris
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I Dig Love
I dig love
I dig love
I dig love
Hm, I dig love in the morning
I dig love in the evening
I dig love and I want you to know I dig love
I love dig
I love dig
I love dig
Hm, I love dig in the morning
I love dig every evening
I dig love and I want you to know I dig love
Small love, big love, I dont care
Loves all good love to me
Left love, right love, anywhere love
Theres a rare love, come on and get it, its free
I dig love
I dig love
I dig love
Hm, I dig love in the morning
I dig love in the evening
I dig love and I want you to know I dig love
Bought love, short love, in any port
Loves always there to see
Make love, take love, but you should give love
And try to live love, come on thats where you should be
I dig love
I dig love
I dig love
Hm, I dig love in the morning
I dig love in the evening
I dig love and I want you to know I dig love
Yes, I want you to know I dig love
Yes, I want you to know I dig love
To know I dig love
Yes, I do
I dig love (repeat and fade)
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poem Versus Prose
You do not like this poem
And I do not like your prose
Enough with your predicates
And your subjects
In this poem you will find
No commas and semicolons
This poem
Is armed with rhythms
Stanzas and shifts
This poem has no end
There are no colons
In this poem
Your prose is replete with nuances
This poem echoes
The plight of the oppressed
And dispossessed
In your prose I find parentheses
This poem speaks of life
Your prose can be edited
Cut this poem and it bleeds
You do not like this poem
And I do not like your prose
Prose has pauses and hyphens
Prose comes to a stop
This poem plugs images
Even in your head
Prose deals with fiction
And nonfiction
This poem can be heard
It can be felt
It speaks of hunger
Of hopelessness
Homelessness
It speaks of a bitter reality
You do not like this poem
poem by Buxton Shippy
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