I love you no more
I love you no more
I run from you at every open door
When I think of you my blood is cold
My tears are dry, my days grow old
I deem myself without you an empty life
A state of constant, stale, and vain strife
My hands start to shake
My skeleton rattles to break
And my heart is torn to pieces
My chest bursts
My veins explode
Drag me behind a galloping horse
Roll me from mountain heights
Turn off on me the world's lights
I will hear your voice no more
It will echo in the chamber of my heart
Lingering my pain, burning my flesh
Pounding my head, dashing my soul
I will bring you flowers no more
The sun from the sky has disappeared long
The birds among the trees stop their song
The cat had changed its voice in its corner crumbled
The dog had barked at me in dismay; I trembled
And my heart cries for mercy
My throat is choked with a strange disease
No medicine can redeem its ease
I will stop an ocean from flow
I will quench the volcano mountain from glow
I will block an avalanche or a whirling rain
But it is all in vain
No rest, No escape from your love
From your laugh
From your face
From your little perfect frame.
By foul, starry night I lingered on the damp lawn
for underfoot the hub was dry
And genial warmth, and over the sky
The silky haze of summer drawn
By its edge only one light cloud left
A reminder of the storm that passed
Of the love we lived of the life we shared
That came to an end
That was so soon cut short
Before we had time to grow old together
To feel to grasp the glory of the moment
The splendor of our rose
Pour acid on my face, guillotine my head
Announce to the world that I am dead
Cut the olive tree and shape my coffin
Chose the spot and dig my grave
Dig it deep beneath the earth
So I will avoid your laugh
So I will not hear your steps
Yet I doubt of all of this will help
You are imprinted in my soul
My grave is not an escape at all.
The bats went round endlessly in fragrant summer skies
And wheeled over and lit the filling shapes
That haunt the dusk with ermine capes
And woolly breasts and beaded eyes
An odd hunger seized my heart, so as if I only read
Of that glad years which once had been
In those fallen leaves which reaped their green
And now lie brown on the ground dead
And strangely on the silence around me broke
The silent speaking words, and strange
was love's dumb cry defying, ignoring our life's change
To test our worth to scrutinize the words we spoke
I am out of faith, of vigor, of bold, of walk of breath of dwell
No hope in sight, no wishing well
I live on doubts that drive the coward back
As if my life has no start no end no track
For suggestions to my inmost all
And all at once it seemed at last
The living soul, the solutions of all was flushed
But it is all too late, my love
Our love was brought to its final rest
Around its grave the flowers will grow and spread
Like infants peeping over a coffin of the dead
And my heart is sobbing
My soul sails in sea of sore and grief
An endless torture under unbreakable lease
I seek the strength in lying
Turn off the lights I am dying
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Related quotes
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 95. By night we linger'd on the lawn
By night we linger'd on the lawn,
For underfoot the herb was dry;
And genial warmth; and o'er the sky
The silvery haze of summer drawn;
And calm that let the tapers burn
Unwavering: not a cricket chirr'd:
The brook alone far-off was heard,
And on the board the fluttering urn:
And bats went round in fragrant skies,
And wheel'd or lit the filmy shapes
That haunt the dusk, with ermine capes
And woolly breasts and beaded eyes;
While now we sang old songs that peal'd
From knoll to knoll, where, couch'd at ease,
The white kine glimmer'd, and the trees
Laid their dark arms about the field.
But when those others, one by one,
Withdrew themselves from me and night,
And in the house light after light
Went out, and I was all alone,
A hunger seized my heart; I read
Of that glad year which once had been,
In those fall'n leaves which kept their green,
The noble letters of the dead:
And strangely on the silence broke
The silent-speaking words, and strange
Was love's dumb cry defying change
To test his worth; and strangely spoke
The faith, the vigour, bold to dwell
On doubts that drive the coward back,
And keen thro' wordy snares to track
Suggestion to her inmost cell.
So word by word, and line by line,
The dead man touch'd me from the past,
And all at once it seem'd at last
The living soul was flash'd on mine,
And mine in this was wound, and whirl'd
About empyreal heights of thought,
And came on that which is, and caught
The deep pulsations of the world,
Æonian music measuring out
The steps of Time--the shocks of Chance--
The blows of Death. At length my trance
Was cancell'd, stricken thro' with doubt.
Vague words! but ah, how hard to frame
In matter-moulded forms of speech,
Or ev'n for intellect to reach
Thro' memory that which I became:
Till now the doubtful dusk reveal'd
The knolls once more where, couch'd at ease,
The white kine glimmer'd, and the trees
Laid their dark arms about the field:
And suck'd from out the distant gloom
A breeze began to tremble o'er
The large leaves of the sycamore,
And fluctuate all the still perfume,
And gathering freshlier overhead,
Rock'd the full-foliaged elms, and swung
The heavy-folded rose, and flung
The lilies to and fro, and said
"The dawn, the dawn," and died away;
And East and West, without a breath,
Mixt their dim lights, like life and death,
To broaden into boundless day.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One-Way Good-Bye
I remember so many years
ago bare moment ago.
When I went forth compelled
to secretly say good-bye.
On street corner
cross from bank.
You did not know I was
or why I was bound there.
Watching building as I had
spied magnetic drab building.
Many times journeyed past
daily work’s journey to or throw.
Guessed second floor
you work on.
My heart
breaks anew.
My heart broke
repeatedly
without seeing you.
As minutes passed
ever slowly by.
With all effort
again again I tried.
To make the break.
For the last.
For the last.
Time to say good-bye.
You never knew.
Each time I saw you.
How my pulse heart
missed each reckless beat.
Love I never told
never spoke of
burned ever cruelly;
oh so deep.
Is that you I see
within office window framed?
Moving to and throw.
You do not see me
this as always passes so.
Your working your weekly computer
directing departmental managerial flow.
All those that work close
beside thee I forlorn envy.
Seeing your dazzling beauty daily
which I will never know.
They share your thoughts
your laughter
that I shall never know.
They see you daily
yet love you not.
Oh mercy; soul sought peace;
within worried me;
will not wearied withered grow.
My thoughts; get ever more black;
baked bitter; leech lingering;
hopelessness; will not go.
You see me. Oh my God!
My thoughts; stop impaled;
in tight slotted compulsive track.
You recognize me. Oh my God!
Too late; behind that refuge;
bidding pillar;
I cannot now draw back.
Your eyes meet mine. You see me.
For an electrified moment.
Is it; for the first; the only time?
You see me. Oh my God! My God!
How I shall hence forth suffer.
For this meeting at a compulsive distance.
Will haunt into decades decayed time.
A chance meeting? A chance meeting?
For you is nothing.
Seconds frozen (I only suffer?) .
Will haunt long;
into gentle heart won;
love lost time. You wave smile.
Only your perfect innocent face.
Could light up eternity.
Like that. Light up. My heart.
(Traitor dead within me.
Killed. Self tortured.)
Like that. Such beauty.
Your puzzled?
An eternity.
Slowly my hand is raised.
Slowly answers back.
I’m gone.
Did you upon reflection?
Ever think back?
Upon such chance meeting?
Did you ever think back?
Every time I saw you.
My heart instantly froze
in lonesome frosted place.
Every time I saw you.
It raced tripped froze.
Without own soul forsaken place.
Images of you swam in mists
of tears hour after wrecked hour.
As days wasted waxed away.
Each chance meeting knowing
with coming day nothing
will has passed between us.
Your leaving
windowed ledge;
means nothing;
upon parting.
Leaving without feeling.
Already your thoughts
climb onward
away from fevered mine.
Inward, naked, stripped bare,
while she, moves; ever receding away.
I am alone. In crowds of aloneness.
In crowds; absolute aloneness.
In crowds; condemning heartfelt;
self excluded; exiled aloneness.
I live. I live. I live.
Never craved ray;
of needed warmth;
reaches silently out;
in heart-string comfort.
From thee to mannequin me.
My eyes
avoid avoid
desperately fleetingly;
your burning beauty;
at every turn.
As I try to escape
your presence
imprinted
before mine eyes
branded upon
my very soul.
Heart divided
upon itself
cannot stand.
Black and cold
is bitter blood
that ebbs
between torn
apart halves.
Weeks pasted
shaking; like frail autumn leaf.
Years passed
still there is no heartfelt peace.
All epitaph
leaves have grave ground fallen.
Still there is no heartfelt peace.
Now ring-barked tree
is lost in frozen bitter winter.
Life is stripped bark bare.
Majestic tree is lost in eternal winter.
My life is frozen twisted bare.
In season sap sunk cold chill rain.
I am frozen chill stripped bare.
While years
apart you resort in summer heat.
Burn brown
bare upon resort bright Black Sea beach.
Life embodied
supermodel your eyes smolder summer heat.
Your beauty still flares ever more perfect.
Lit with true inner;
compassionate humane flame.
I still seek retreat.
I still seek retreat.
In your bare legged; summer beauty
your loveless kiss would be;
is a brand upon my cheek.
Across an ocean
from you and more.
I still seek retreat.
An ocean cold
turbulent deep
filled my tears I cried.
During your time of joyous
sweltering summer heat.
In numb frozen;
winter coldness;
I cried. I cried salt tears.
While your body
ever beautiful danced
in summer sensual heat.
In rocky winter I cried.
Frozen upon a fossil beach.
While you danced coupled
in fresh bare summer heat.
Your body is a stunning torture
to see to hear to speak.
Your body is an exquisite torture
to see to hear to speak.
For other men you laugh you speak.
Still. But long ago.
In glacial winter. I fell dead.
In full retreat. Unseen. Unloved.
I feel dead upon crushed snow.
I fell dead; upon bitter; down trodden snow.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dead To The Living
Work while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.
IN the childhood of April, while purple woods
With the young year's blood in them smiled,
I passed through the lanes and the wakened fields,
And stood by the grave of the child.
And the pain awoke that is never dead
Though it sometimes sleeps, and again
It set its teeth in this heart of mine,
And fastened its claws in my brain:
For it seemed so hard that the little hands
And the little well-loved head
Should be out of reach of my living lips,
And be side by side with the dead--
Not side by side with us who had loved,
But with these who had never seen
The grace of the smile, the gold of the hair,
And the eyes of my baby-queen.
Yet with trees about where the brown birds build,
And with long green grass above,
She lies in the cold sweet breast of earth
Beyond the reach of our love;
Whatever befalls in the coarse loud world,
We know she will never wake.
When I thought of the sorrow she might have known,
I was almost glad for her sake. . . .
Tears might have tired those kiss-closed eyes,
Grief hardened the mouth I kissed;
I was almost glad that my dear was dead
Because of the pain she had missed.
Oh, if I could but have died a child
With a white child-soul like hers,
As pure as the wind-flowers down in the copse,
Where the soul of the spring's self stirs;
Or if I had only done with it all,
And might lie by her side unmoved!
I envied the very clods of earth
Their place near the child I loved!
And my soul rose up in revolt at life,
As I stood dry-eyed by her grave,
When sudden the grass of the churchyard sod
Rolled back like a green smooth wave;
The brown earth looked like the brown sea rocks,
The tombstones were white like spray,
And white like surf were the curling folds
Of the shrouds where the dead men lay;
For each in his place with his quiet face
I saw the dead lie low,
Who had worked and suffered and found life sad,
So many sad years ago.
Unchanged by time I saw them lie
As when first they were laid to rest,
The tired eyes closed, the sad lips still,
And the work-worn hands on the breast.
There were some who had found the green world so grey,
They had left it before their time,
And some were little ones like my dear,
And some had died in their prime;
And some were old, they had had their fill
Of bitter unfruitful hours,
And knew that none of them, none, had known
A flower of a hope like ours!
Through their shut eyelids the dead looked up,
And without a voice they said:
'We lived without hope, without hope we died,
And hopeless we lie here dead;
And death is better than life that draws
Pain in, as it draws in breath,
If life never dreams of a coming day
When life shall not envy death.
Through the dark of our hours and our times we lived,
Uncheered by a single ray
Of such hope as lightens the lives of you
Who are finding life hard to-day;
With our little lanterns of human love
We lighted our dark warm night--
But you in the chill of the dawn are set
With your face to the eastern light.
Freedom is waiting with hands held out
Till you tear the veil from her face--
And when once men have seen the light of her eyes,
And felt her divine embrace,
The light of the world will be risen indeed,
And will shine in the eyes of men,
And those who come after will find life fair,
And their lives worth living then!
Will you strive to the light in your loud rough world,
That these things may come to pass,
Or lie in the shadow beside the child,
And strive to the sun through the grass?'
'My world while I may,' I cried; 'but you
Whose lives were as dark as your grave?'
'We too are a part of the coming light,'
They called through the smooth green wave.
Their white shrouds gleamed as the flood of green
Rolled over and hid them from me--
Hid all but the little hands and the hair,
And the face that I always see.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At A Funeral
I loved her too, this woman who is dead.
Look in my face. I have a right to go
And see the place where you have made her bed
Among the snow.
I loved her too whom you are burying.
I have a right to stand beside her bier,
And to my handful of the dust I fling,
That she may hear.
I loved her; and it was not for the eyes
Which you have shut, nor for her yellow hair,
Nor for the face which in your bosom lies.
Let it lie there!
Nor for the wild--birds' music of her voice,
Which we shall hear in dreams till we too sleep;
Nor for the rest, which made the world rejoice,
The angels weep.
It was not for the payment of sweet love,
Though love is often straitened for a kiss,
Nor for the hope of other joys above,
But only this,
That she had laid her hand upon my heart
Once in the summer time when we were young,
And that her finger--tips had left a smart,
And that my tongue
Had spoken words which might not be unspoken
Lest they should make a by--word of love's truth,
And I had sworn that love should be the token
Of my youth.
And so I gave her all, and long ago
The treasure of my youth was put in pawn;
And she was little richer that I know
When that was gone.
But I have lived a beggar since that day
And hide my face it may be from men's eyes;
For often I have seen them shrink away,
As in surprise
That such a loathsome cripple should be found
To walk abroad in daylight with the rest,
And scarce a rag to cover up the wound
Upon his breast.
Yet no man stopped to ask how this might be,
Or I had scared them, and let loose my tongue,
How I had bought myself this misery
When I was young.
Yet I have loved her. This must be my pay,
The pension I have earned me with these tears;
The right to kneel beside her grave to--day,
Despite these years,
With all her kisses burning on my cheek,
As when I left her and our love was dead,
And our lips trembled though they did not speak,
The night I fled;
The right to bid you stand aside, nor be
A witness of our meeting. Did you love
In joy as I have loved in misery?
You did not prove
Your love was stronger than the strength of death,
Or she had never died upon your hand.
I would have fed her breathing with my breath;
I would have fanned
A living wind of Heaven to her lips;
I would have stolen life from Paradise.
And she is dead, and you have seen eclipse
Within those eyes.
If I could know that you had loved her well;
If I could hold it for a certainty
That you had sold your life as I did sell;
If I could see
The blackness of your soul, and with my tongue
Taste the full bitterness of tears unshed;
If I should find your very heart was wrung
And maimed and dead;
If I should feel your hand's grasp crumble mine,
And hug the pain when I should grasp in turn;
If I could dip my fingers in the brine
Of eyes that burn;
If I could hear your voice call back the dead
With such a mighty cry of agony
That she should turn and listen in the bed
Where she doth lie,
And all the heavens should together roll,
Thinking they heard the angel's trumpet tone,
I could forget it that you bought a soul
Which was my own;
I could forget that she forgot her vows,
That aught was bartered for the wealth of love;
I could untell the story of my woes,
Till God above
Should hold her guiltless and condone the wrong
Done to His justice; I could take your hand
And call you brother, as we went along
To take our stand
Before His judgment--seat with her again
Where we are hurrying,--for we could not keep
Our place unchallenged in the ranks of men
Who do not weep.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Come With The Summer Leaves
Come with the summer leaves, love, to my grave,
And, if you doubt among the quiet dead,
Choose out that mound where greenest grasses wave
And where the flowers grow thickest and most red.
Come in the morning while the dews of night,
Which are fair Nature's tears in darkness shed,
Rim the sad petals nor are garnered quite,
Like my lost hopes untimely harvested.
Come to my grave--ah gather, love, those flowers!
Out of my heart they grow for your dear head.
These are its songs unwritten and all yours,
The love I loved you with and left unsaid.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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From the Grave
When the first sere leaves of the year were falling,
I heard, with a heart that was strangely thrilled,
Out of the grave of a dead Past calling,
A voice I fancied forever stilled.
All through winter and spring and summer,
Silence hung over that grave like a pall,
But, borne on the breath of the last sad comer,
I listen again to the old-time call.
It is only a love of a by-gone season,
A senseless folly that mocked at me
A reckless passion that lacked all reason,
So I killed it, and hid it where none could see.
I smothered it first to stop its crying,
Then stabbed it through with a good sharp blade,
And cold and pallid I saw it lying,
And deep—ah' deep was the grave I made.
But now I know that there is no killing
A thing like Love, for it laughs at Death.
There is no hushing, there is no stilling
That which is part of your life and breath.
You may bury it deep, and leave behind you
The land, the people, that knew your slain;
It will push the sods from its grave, and find you
On wastes of water or desert plain.
You may hear but tongues of a foreign people,
You may list to sounds that are strange and new;
But, clear as a silver bell in a steeple,
That voice from the grave shall call to you.
You may rouse your pride, you may use your reason.
And seem for a space to slay Love so;
But, all in its own good time and season,
It will rise and follow wherever you go.
You shall sit sometimes, when the leaves are falling,
Alone with your heart, as I sit to-day,
And hear that voice from your dead Past calling
Out of the graves that you hid away.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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At Dawn and Dusk
At Dawn and Dusk
Love-Laurel
IN MEMORY OF HENRY KENDALL
AH! that God once would touch my lips with song
To pierce, as prayer doth heaven, earth’s breast of iron,
So that with sweet mouth I might sing to thee,
O sweet dead singer buried by the sea,
A song, to woo thee, as a wooing siren,
Out of that silent sleep which seals too long
Thy mouth of melody.
For, if live lips might speak awhile to dead,
Or any speech could reach the sad world under
This world of ours, song surely should awake
Thee who didst dwell in shadow for song’s sake!
Alas! thou canst not hear the voice of thunder,
Nor low dirge over thy low-lying head
The winds of morning make.
Down through the clay there comes no sound of these;
Down in the grave there is no sign of Summer,
Nor any knowledge of the soft-eyed Spring;
But Death sits there, with outspread ebon wing,
Closing with dust the mouth of each new-comer
To that mute land, where never sound of seas
Is heard, and no birds sing.
Now thou hast found the end of all thy days
Hast thou found any heart a vigil keeping
For thee among the dead—some heart that heard
Thy singing when thou wert a brown, sweet bird
Gray Æons gone, in some old forest sleeping
Beneath the seas long since? in Death’s dim ways
Has thy heart any word?
For surely those in whom the deathless spark
Of song is kindled, sang from the beginning
If life were always? But the old desires—
Do they exist when sad-eyed Hope expires?
How live the dead? what crowns have they for winning?
Have they, to warm them in the dreamless dark,
For sun earth’s central fires?
Are the dead dead indeed whom we call dead?
Has God no life but this of ours for giving?—
When that they took thee by each well-known place,
Stark in thy coffin with a cold white face,
What thought, O Brother, hadst thou of the living?
What of the sun that round thee glory shed?
What of the fair day’s grace?
Is thy new life made up of memories
Or dreams that lull the dead, bright visions bringing
Of Spring above! Are thy days short or long?
Thou who wert master of our singing throng
Mayhap in death thou hast not lost thy singing,
But chauntst unheard, beside the moaning sea,
A solitary song.
The chance spade turns up skulls. God help the dead
And thee whose singing days have all passed over—
Thee, whom the gold-haired Spring shall seek in vain
When at the glad year’s doors she stands again,
Remembering the song-garlands thou hast wove her
In years gone by: but all these years have fled
With all their joy and pain.
. . . . .
My soul laughed out to hear my heart speak so,
And sprang forth skyward, as an eagle, hoping
To look upon thy soul with living eyes,
Until it came to where our dim life dies,
And dead suns darkly for a grave are groping
Through cycles of immeasurable woe,
Stone-blind in the blind skies.
The stars walk shuddering on that awful verge
From which my soul, with swift and fearless motion,
Clove the black depths, and sought for God and thee;
But God dwells where nor stars nor suns there be—
No shore there is to His Eternal Ocean;
A thousand systems are a fringe of surge
On that great starless sea.
And thou wert not. So that, with weary plumes,
My soul through the great void its way came winging
To earth again. “What hope for him who sings
Is there?” it sighed. “Death ends all sweetest things.”
When lo! there came a swell of mighty singing,
Flooding all space, and swift athwart the glooms
A flash of sudden wings.
. . . . .
Dreamer of dreams, thy songs and dreams are done.
Down where thou sleepest in earth’s secret bosom
There is no sorrow and no joy for thee,
Who canst not see what stars at eve there be,
Nor evermore at morn the green dawn blossom
Into the golden king-flower of the sun
Across the golden sea.
But haply there shall come in days to be
One who shall hear his own heart beating faster,
Plucking a rose sprung from thy heart beneath,
And from his soul, as sword from out its sheath,
Song shall leap forth where now, O silent master,
On thy lone grave beside the sounding sea,
I lay this laurel-wreath.
poem by Victor James Daley
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Un-Break My Heart
Un-break my heart,
Become part of me again,
You broke my heart and never fixed it,
Leaving a hole that sucked in my soul,
My days grow darker and my life grows shorter,
And yet you are no where to be found,
Please un-break my heart,
And say you will love me again,
Un-do all this hurt that you have caused,
When you walked out of my life,
Help me to un-cry these tears,
That i cried over you so many nights,
Please un-break my heart,
take away this pain,
that's slowly killing my soul,
darkening my days,
And creating a back hole,
please heal these stab wounds,
You've caused with your words,
Heal these scars on my heart,
That have become a part of me,
They are threatening to re-open,
Threatening to cause more pain and hurt,
Please father Un-break my heart,
Walk through the door,
The door i often sit in front,
Waiting for your return,
I need your love,
I need you,
I need your arms around me,
And for you to never let go of me,
You brought darkness into my life the moment you walked out,
So please bring back the light,
poem by Charlie Bones
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Open Your Heart
Tis' one life you have,
Open your heart to love.
Love your wife, your son,
Daughter, husband, or special one.
Friends never turn away-
Open your heart to love every day.
Your scars will be many;
Much pain there will be.
Knives will cut deep;
Your eyes will for years weep.
At times you will wonder,
Is it really worth it all?
To love, feel, and cry,
Or to raise walls and inside die?
The latter seems the safer,
But behind walls doth one falter.
For we were made to live,
To love, breathe, and give.
To hide behind the walls,
Slowly one falls.
Petrified till no longer a soul,
Just grey stone, dead and cold.
Never able to move beyond,
The wail of a heart break song.
Forever in the past,
Never in the future, this his cast.
Never the chance feel,
The warmth of love so real;
The closeness of a friend,
When you are facing the bitter end.
Just a life of reclusion,
Doomed to seclusion.
A life wasted, a life for nothing.
A life of pain and bluffing.
Woe to sad memory,
But happy ones will never flee.
To love and live,
Or to die all stiff.
The choice is all yours,
What will be your course?
Please please open your heart,
Though it may be oft torn apart.
For if you don't ever,
True life experience you will never.
Tis' one life you have:
Open your heart to love.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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Silence (Part I)
Sometimes I see you as my child,
Sometimes I see you as my sweetheart,
And when I look into your eyes,
I see that tender and sweet smile,
And I want to say what’s in my heart,
And I want to tell you how I feel,
But my voice remains there, still,
And I just stare at your loving face,
And let the love from my heart,
Flow like a wild river in furious race,
to enfold your sweet and pure soul
with a sea of love and tenderness.
Sometimes there’s so much to say,
but nothing flows from my lips,
And only silence is there to stay,
And only the silence I should keep,
Because what I had to say was already said,
How words could express
never-ending love and tenderness?
How could I just say at one time,
I love you more than my own life?
And there remains the deep silence,
Silence and more silence,
to signal that divine presence,
of my silent love; my heart’s essence.
But this silence is not empty silence,
when divine love fills all my senses,
when nature’s beauty colours your soul,
and fades away all pity and woe.
Because when there is silence,
you can hear the silent language,
the heavenly music of my heart’s song,
God’s eternal music He’s been playing all along,
And in that silence you’ll hear my song,
The endless tune that my love sings,
with the sweetest notes in your luscious dreams,
which eternally flow like endless streams.
(2009)
poem by Roberto Echanes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pig
Isnt it strange
How we move our lives for another day
Like skipping a beat
What if a great wave should
Wash us all away
Just thinking out loud
Dont mean to dwell on this dying thing
But looking at blood
Its alive right now
Deep and sweet within
Pouring through our veins
Intoxicate moving wine to tears
Drinking it deep
Then an evening spent dancing
Its you and me
This love will open our world
From the dark side you can see a glow
Of something bright
Theres much more than we see here
Dont burn the day away
Is this not enough
The blessed sip of life
Is it not enough
Staring down at the ground
Oh then complain and pray
More from above
Greedy little pig
Stop just watch your world trickle away
Oh its your problem now
Itll all be dead and gone in
A few short years
Just love will open our eyes
Just love will put the hope back in our minds
Much more than we could ever know
Dont burn the day away
Come sister
My brother
Shake up your bones shake up your feet
Im saying open up
And let the rain come pouring in
Wash out this tired notion
That the best is yet to come
But while youre dancing on the ground
Dont think of when youre gone
Love! love! - what more is there?
We need the light of love in here
Dont beat your head
Dry your eyes
Let the love in there
There are bad times
But thats ok
Just look for love in it
Dont burn the day away
Look
Here are we
On this starry night staring into space
And I must say
I feel as small as dust
Lying down here
What point could there be troubling
Head down wondering what will
Become of me
Why concern we cannot see
But no reason to abandon it
Time is short but thats all right
Maybe Ill go out in the middle of the night
Take your hands from your eyes, my love
Everything must come to an end sometime
Dont burn the day away
Come sister
My brother
Shake up your bones shake up your feet
Im saying open up
And let the rain come flooding in
Wash out this tired notion
That the best is yet to come
But while youre dancing on the ground
Dont think of when youre gone
Love! love! - what more is there?
We need the light of love in here
Dont beat your head
Dry your eyes
Let the love in there
There are bad times
But thats ok
Just look for love in it
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Woman's Mood
I THINK to-night I could bear it all,
Even the arrow that cleft the core,—
Could I wait again for your swift footfall,
And your sunny face coming in at the door.
With the old frank look and the gay young smile,
And the ring of the words you used to say;
I could almost deem the pain worth while,
To greet you again in the olden way!
But you stand without in the dark and cold,
And I may not open the long closed door,
Nor call thro’ the night, with the love of old,—
“Come into the warmth, as in nights of yore!”
I kneel alone in the red fire-glow,
And hear the wings of the wind sweep by;
You are out afar in the night, I know,
And the sough of the wind is like a cry.
You are out afar—and I wait within,
A grave-eyed woman whose pulse is slow;
The flames round the red coals softly spin,
And the lonely room’s in a rosy glow.
The firelight falls on your vacant chair,
And the soft brown rug where you used to stand;
Dear, never again shall I see you there,
Nor lift my head for your seeking hand.
Yet sometimes still, and in spite of all,
I wistful look at the fastened door,
And wait again for the swift footfall,
And the gay young voice as in hours of yore.
It still seems strange to be here alone,
With the rising sob of the wind without;
The sound takes a deep, insisting tone,
Where the trees are swinging their arms about.
Its moaning reaches the sheltered room,
And thrills my heart with a sense of pain;
I walk to the window, and pierce the gloom,
With a yearning look that is all in vain.
You are out in a night of depths that hold
No promise of dawning for you and me,
And only a ghost from the life of old
Has come from the world of memory!
You are out evermore! God wills it so!
But ah! my spirit is yearning yet!
As I kneel alone by the red fire-glow,
My eyes grow dim with the old regret.
O when shall the aching throb grow still,
The warm love-life turn cold at the core!
Must I be watching, against my will,
For your banished face in the opening door?
It may be, dear, when the sequel’s told
Of the story, read to its bitter close;
When the inner meanings of life unfold,
And the under-side of our being shows—
It may be then, in that truer light,
When all our knowledge has larger grown,
I may understand why you stray to-night,
And I am left, with the past, alone.
poem by Jenning Carmichael
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Next One
The next one
Will not be like me
I know I have flaws
As you plainly do see
I know I'm not perfect
But I know I did try
But you only see me
Through days of past eyes
I bet he'll be perfect
Say all the right things
Bring you all of the joy
A new relationship brings
Will he open your door?
As 9 years have gone by
When you share your hurts
Will he truthfully cry?
Will his heart stick with you?
Through thick and through thin?
Will he love you through everything?
The good stuff and sin?
Will he laugh at your jokes?
With genuine heart?
Will it last through the years?
Or just at the start?
Will he walk with you
Through all of your dreams?
And make them come true?
As sure as it seems.
If you lay in bed dying
Will he hold your last breath?
Will he love you forever?
Or just until death?
Will he change who he is?
To bring you much joy?
Will he cherish you like I do?
Or are you just a new toy?
Will he do what it takes?
To win back your heart.
Will he try to become
Who he was in the start?
Will he lead you to God?
Will he lead you to Hell?
I guess we'll find out
As only time will tell.
Will he love you like I do?
Through good times and bad?
When your loving or angry?
When your happy or mad?
Will he love you so deeply?
For you will he pray?
When things get real tough
Will he just walk away?
Would he walk through a fire?
Put his life on the line?
Give it all up for you?
Is his love stronger than mine?
Will he dream of a future?
Where you both will grow old?
Will he love you so dearly?
Will his love just turn cold?
If you did what I did
Would you just walk away?
Or stand up and fight on
Each and everyday
I just want you to be happy
So I'll let you go
You truly are worth it
I thought you should know
I will love you forever
After I leave this world
And even in heaven
You'll still be my girl
So now I to move on
Things will be what they'll be
For I know he won't love you
Won't love you like me.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Traveling through the orbits of love
Traveling through the orbits of love
You always followed me
Hiding yourself behind hideous secrets
The tedious question I always asked
At mid way meeting as train pulled in
Who is the one you love?
With whom your soul yearn to be
Are you ready to accept me hence?
From all my mad habits I recovered
It took me a long pause to ask
It last more for you to answer
The train pulled out
The earth beneath me trembled
My world darkened on me
So strange you did not stay
So inhabitant is the station without you
Against trifle and ecstasy that we knew
Love is the remedy
Hidden thoughts meaningless words
Again iterate the question
Who is the one you love
Would you love me?
Would you accept me?
Since I shelled my old rascal skin
So I contemplate while lying in bed
You where no where to answer
I waited long in cold bed for reply
My heart pulled out of my chest
The earth beneath the bed shock
So strange you are not here
So lonely the world is without you
So deafen is the air clear
Who is the one you love
With whom you will be
The freighted earth shook
The mad lighting shot
The birds to the air took
So strange you are not
And I am abandoned in the knot
Copy rights 2010
All rights reserved
Travel My Soul
You can look into my eyes and travel
It to the depths of my soul
A beauty which will never grow old.
I will not only tell you I love you
I will show you I love you.
Follow the pulsating blood through my veins
Taking you to my soul.
Once in my soul you will see, that the love
We have for each other, was meant to be.
You’ll see the fireworks exploding in my heart
As you would a shooting star across the sky.
For this love would never die.
My love courses through my veins
Like the rivers that course thru the lands.
The beauties are enjoyed by everyone
Wanting to touch it and travel its never ending course.
But you are the captain of this ship
And you can go to any destiny your heart desires.
Travel my veins to my head, just so that you can see
My thoughts, emotions, my memories.
As the stars are to the sky, the moon to the earth
The sun to the land, giving new life birth.
You are the days, the nights, the food to my soul
And you are the one, that I long to hold.
If you tire of the travel and would like to
Give my heart a test.
I will be there, to put your heart to rest.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cold And Empty
Maybe I've been on the road to long
Livin my life thru these songs
I guess lovin a music man
Really wasn't in your plans
Does it matter if I'm sorry again
And why should I apologize
You knew all along this was my life
You know my ins and outs
All my fears and doubts
Its the life I love
But its you I can't live without
And this whole world seems
Cold and empty
Someone please turn on the lights
Lord if there's an angel you could send me
I could use one here tonight
Now where am I supposed to go
My only home was in your soul
I know that I cant stay here
And drown in a pool of tears
Should I pack my pride
And face this life alone
And this whole world seems
Cold and empty
Someone please turn on the lights
Lord if there's an angel you could send me
I sure could use one tonight
Maybe its me who's cold and empty
And in my darkness I can't see the light
Please god if there's an angel
You could send me
Cause there's one missin from my life
You are my heart, you are my soul
Wherever you are, that where I go
You know my ins and outs
All of my fears and doubts
Its the life I love
But its you I can't live without
Yes its the life I love
But its you I can't live without
The life I love
The life I love
But its you I can't live without
song performed by by Kid Rock
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christianus
How did thy human hand paint me better than God's love did give?
In brush strokes obscure and despondent colors mine soul does live
Thou art a God with human hand which create my heart's thorns crown
And in thy sorrows for my life sorrow we pensively brood we search down
Deep in the kingdom of God which no man rule but our soul, our will's king
We hear not just our own sorrow cry, but the angels of sorrow melancholy sing
Let the blood flow down thy face and the aureole of love's light seep in
Look at thy face and let thy soul purge, life's vain hope thy life's mortal sin.
Rome's power, Jewish law, I wear it scarlet in my sorrowful raiment; Rome's mocking cloak
The blood of the God's lamb and the blood of the earth's meek sweetly soak
My heart, my manhood, the imperfect man and all his sin did not know
That the love I give, the love I live, is the love I forever show
In this painting of God's man hands and despondent souls who despair in glow…
Touch my face and let tears flow into my heart, forever I live and forever I love, thine sorrow grow.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love-Laurel
Ah! that God once would touch my lips with song
To pierce, as prayer doth heaven, earth’s breast of iron,
So that with sweet mouth I might sing to thee,
O sweet dead singer buried by the sea,
A song, to woo thee, as a wooing siren,
Out of that silent sleep which seals too long
Thy mouth of melody.
For, if live lips might speak awhile to dead,
Or any speech could reach the sad world under
This world of ours, song surely should awake
Thee who didst dwell in shadow for song’s sake!
Alas! thou canst not hear the voice of thunder,
Nor low dirge over thy low-lying head
The winds of morning make.
Down through the clay there comes no sound of these;
Down in the grave there is no sign of Summer,
Nor any knowledge of the soft-eyed Spring;
But Death sits there, with outspread ebon wing,
Closing with dust the mouth of each new-comer
To that mute land, where never sound of seas
Is heard, and no birds sing.
Now thou hast found the end of all thy days
Hast thou found any heart a vigil keeping
For thee among the dead—some heart that heard
Thy singing when thou wert a brown, sweet bird
Gray Æons gone, in some old forest sleeping
Beneath the seas long since? in Death’s dim ways
Has thy heart any word?
For surely those in whom the deathless spark
Of song is kindled, sang from the beginning
If life were always? But the old desires—
Do they exist when sad-eyed Hope expires?
How live the dead? what crowns have they for winning?
Have they, to warm them in the dreamless dark,
For sun earth’s central fires?
Are the dead dead indeed whom we call dead?
Has God no life but this of ours for giving?—
When that they took thee by each well-known place,
Stark in thy coffin with a cold white face,
What thought, O Brother, hadst thou of the living?
What of the sun that round thee glory shed?
What of the fair day’s grace?
Is thy new life made up of memories
Or dreams that lull the dead, bright visions bringing
Of Spring above! Are thy days short or long?
Thou who wert master of our singing throng
Mayhap in death thou hast not lost thy singing,
But chauntst unheard, beside the moaning sea,
A solitary song.
The chance spade turns up skulls. God help the dead
And thee whose singing days have all passed over—
Thee, whom the gold-haired Spring shall seek in vain
When at the glad year’s doors she stands again,
Remembering the song-garlands thou hast wove her
In years gone by: but all these years have fled
With all their joy and pain.
My soul laughed out to hear my heart speak so,
And sprang forth skyward, as an eagle, hoping
To look upon thy soul with living eyes,
Until it came to where our dim life dies,
And dead suns darkly for a grave are groping
Through cycles of immeasurable woe,
Stone-blind in the blind skies.
The stars walk shuddering on that awful verge
From which my soul, with swift and fearless motion,
Clove the black depths, and sought for God and thee;
But God dwells where nor stars nor suns there be—
No shore there is to His Eternal Ocean;
A thousand systems are a fringe of surge
On that great starless sea.
And thou wert not. So that, with weary plumes,
My soul through the great void its way came winging
To earth again. “What hope for him who sings
Is there?” it sighed. “Death ends all sweetest things.”
When lo! there came a swell of mighty singing,
Flooding all space, and swift athwart the glooms
A flash of sudden wings.
Dreamer of dreams, thy songs and dreams are done.
Down where thou sleepest in earth’s secret bosom
There is no sorrow and no joy for thee,
Who canst not see what stars at eve there be,
Nor evermore at morn the green dawn blossom
Into the golden king-flower of the sun
Across the golden sea.
But haply there shall come in days to be
One who shall hear his own heart beating faster,
Plucking a rose sprung from thy heart beneath,
And from his soul, as sword from out its sheath,
Song shall leap forth where now, O silent master,
On thy lone grave beside the sounding sea,
I lay this laurel-wreath.
poem by Victor James Daley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paradise / The Spell
I feel you trying,
though in my heart I know you're lying.
And though your love for me is dying,
I see you crying.
It's the pain of your secret heart
bringing you to tears, filling you with fears
for your mind and for your soul.
I touch you softly now,
born on by hope until the end, somehow.
I am a man and I must keep my vows,
I must go on.
But the wall of your secret heart
keeps my distance clear, helps my footsteps fall
back in line inside my mind.
What's the use? You turned me loose
and left me here to cry.
Where's the love we talked about?
Where's my sunny sky?
Secret hearts and sorry tales
will never help love grow.
Spread your wings my darkened soul,
the time has come to go.
I will not be hurried down
or blackened by you lies.
I must go and find my dreams
and live in paradise.
(Repeat and fade)
What do you think I am? Do you think I'm dreaming?
Don't you know I know what it is you're schemeing?
Who did you think gave you the right,
hidden by the dead of night,
to take the world and turn it upside down,
when it should be round?
It seems I made it just in time
to use my reason and my rhyme
to save us from the evils of your mind.
I will cast the spell, be sure I cast it well.
I will light a fire, kindled with desire.
I'll fill you with fear so you'll know I'm here
and I won't be treated like a fool.
Stop what you're pretending, there'll be no happy ending.
I'm alive and darkness is my tool.
But when the night is over,
and daytime steals your cover,
the goodness of the morning sun
will wear away what you have done
and leave you cold.
I have no need for moonlight.
You're wrong to trust in sunlight.
For I exist, not just in storms,
but in life itself, in so many forms
to leave you cold.
I will leave you now, but you wont defeat me.
You had best beware when you come to meet me.
Love and truth will follow me,
an army of reality,
brought from every corner of the world.
You will never break the spell.
I summon all the fires of hell
and this is my advice for what it's worth:
Let us not begin this fight we cannot win.
Be sure you're watching me.
Cause all through your life,
every day and every night
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forsaking My Love
I hate you
I wish to tear you away from me
This tumor that clings to my chest
The thing that makes me ache
That haunts my dreams
And tears at my desires
You have brought me only pain
My untamed heart
That beast that gnaws at my soul
That pitifully whines
Bringing my mind into unwanted pain
Yet how can I blame you
How can I chastise you when I listen intently to your pleas
Why should I punish you for what my eyes feed upon
How can I blame my eyes for falling upon her
She who brings light to the eternal darkness of my soul
She whose eyes bring me to subjection
Whose smile leaves me in awe
How can I blame you when my ears are met with her laughter
How they submerge into her song
How they quiver at her voice
Why should I punish you for inclining my soul
Tempting it with the one sense that has been forsaken by her
How could I look over the thought of the brushing of lips
The touching of hands
The binding of the soul, mind, and body
O you wretched heart
What am I to do with this constant companion
How could I tear you away
When she is the cause of my agony
Or rather
It is the lack of her which brings me sorrow
It is the need for her that leaves my heart in pain
Yet she is not mine
She was never mine
She will never be mine
O my poor heart
How can I make you see reason
When all you do is show me the truth
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poem by Michael Silver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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