Love at first sight
There comes time when I watch an ancient sea at its slow ebb
Long hours with howling winds echoing over vast sand
Since I was entangled in your beauty's eyes web
And trembled at the touch of un gloved extended hand
Since I met you I never looked at the midnight ora of summer sky
But well remember each moment your slaying eyes memorized light
Nor I can look or compare a wild rose vermilion dye
But your cheek where my lips will crave to dwell in bright
Can I look in adoration at any budding flower
When my fond ear adores every sound uttered from your lips
And heartbreaking for love sound, passionate wording- it does devour
Any sweetness you may speak under the sun eclipse
Every delight you may bestow is a sweet remembering
Followed by subtle grief this may into my heart bring
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Related quotes
Sonnet. To A Lady Seen For A Few Moments At Vauxhall
Time's sea hath been five years at its slow ebb,
Long hours have to and fro let creep the sand,
Since I was tangled in thy beauty's web,
And snared by the ungloving of thine hand.
And yet I never look on midnight sky,
But I behold thine eyes' well memory'd light;
I cannot look upon the rose's dye,
But to thy cheek my soul doth take its flight.
I cannot look on any budding flower,
But my fond ear, in fancy at thy lips
And hearkening for a love-sound, doth devour
Its sweets in the wrong sense: -- Thou dost eclipse
Every delight with sweet remembering,
And grief unto my darling joys dost bring.
poem by John Keats
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Shall I ever let
Shall I ever let my fancy and dream to roam
To bring this rare pleasure and conjure it back home
At touch this pleasure and memory melts
Like bubbles of water when the rain pelts
Nature has withhold Catherine beauty across the wide skies
What an adornment for the human eyes for next thousands of years
She has taken their cream of beauty, fairest dyes
And shaped and tinted sweet Catherine above all peers
When I behold her on the earth descend
My heart begins to throb and to burn; only in pains
This is my fancy and dreams that melt and vanish; my sad life's end
Love has poured her slaying beauty into my veins
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A Day Of Laugh And Love In The Sun
A day of laugh and love in the sun
The winds blew gently through whitening leaves as naked flames
The scent of spring flowers spread softly as carried by hands of a nun
Sea and vast echoing duns, her sound speaking, repeating my name
My name on her voluptuous lips erupted my heart so high
That there was noting left inside me; my spirit flew free
Bouncing on the sands; lifting into the vaults of boundless sky
Diving into the sapphire depth of the magic sea
A day of laugh and love in the sun
Where are you day? where you hide where you run?
All I know your comrades days gray and slow come and go one by one
Her picture froze; never to return to meadows and do the not done
The day of laugh and love do not hesitate, come not of late
Flinging the gloom secluded nights
On my painful heart; bring back your joy, laugh and lights
Pull me, take me out of this horrible mind of state
Come again with morning fresh light mist
With her again, the beauty queen whose stately brow
The dew pearled winds of dawn have kissed
So incorrigibly I yearn to re play that day in meadow and in show
Stay on her floating locks and lovely freight
Of overflowing blooms, and earliest shoots
In lea of green hues, yielding safe pledge to their fruits
we will watch the bird leading her soft colored broods
Now in cold winter tide on what shall I hope or stare?
Except naked trunks, and the black frigid earth with brilliance rare.
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You turned from me
Remember me as I was back then
As a precious memory of comfort in time of agony and pain
You have turned from me; but I always see
The beautiful maid laughing by a flowering spring tree
With the slaying eyes that made the air around so bright
Under shaking, flickering stars of warm hazy summer night
Hands were touching hands
Love grew slowly in such timid shy trend
You have turned from me; but I always remember
The bursting laugh against the night dew of early November
That one careless night of youth and laugh
While outside the spangled reeds in the silver moon did bath
For me, that night is the only night I have
Such a precious jewel against hard times in my heart I save
And how about you? in shine or in sorrow
How far did that splendid night in your heart grow?
You have turned from me time passes for long
The years were harsh leaving me forlorn without a song
I dare you never will see
What time and years have done to me
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To Minette
With your lovely face
and bright blue eyes
at any time you could disrupt my life
and a single word made me believe in your love
and your soft lips, the blush on your cheek
and bright blue eyes
really caught me
and the sound of your voice
and your soft lips, the blush on your cheek
grasped my heart
and your soft hand folding around mine
and the sound of your voice
leaves me now only with mourning
and the remembering of how wonderful you were
and your soft hand folding around mine
has been extinguished by destiny, changed to ash.
With your lovely face
and the remembering of how wonderful you were
at any time you could disrupt my life.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A child winter night
Wailing whirling wheeling winds
When shall you blow again
And let the momentous drops of little rain
Come down mossy rocks and on fields of vast terrain
Hush under the cloak of night the nightingale hides and no more sings
Come back howling winds of winter night
Shake the stature of every tree tall
Its leaves long had reddened to a point of fall
Bring back the moments of a child
Scared and fetuses shape cuddled from winds wild
Under his blanket adoring a world of joy and bright
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A Cankered Love or
When she loads frowns and frets
With her taunts and tantrums
And you equally spend time with dreads
In assiduous execration under thundering drums
You know by then too well
Your helpless love worth you a hell
But Alas, why rush to heedless destructive judgement
And arouse forth the monster of solitude, the dragon of torment
So much irreversible damage these hast conclusions
May bring horrors to past joys and first love hopes and illusions
Women through all out history have been like this on the land
Angelic on one hand and dreadful devils on the other end
Like thorns encircling a balmy vermilion rose in a morning dim
Like the honey in the milk before it boils and spreads over brim
Take the more cautious and sophisticated approach
Rarely speak of her beauty or her manners good
As beautiful as she may be in look or style, leading the torch
Or her wings are sleek like dove's wings in the wood
Never call her wicked; be it even at utmost fit; that word's touch
Will consume her and the relationship like a curse;
But love her not too much; in sigh and in scaling, too much,
For that is even the devil worse.
Look! after all she is a human; she is neither good nor bad,
But her nature fluctuates from innocent to wanton and wild!
Enshrine her in your heart if love goes and dies, who had
The stone hard heart of a green child.
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My lover and I
When the ever resilient nightingale to his date
Chirrups his songs day long and night late
My love and I keep our sweet state
In the lush and balmy bower
Of varieties bursting blooming flowers
Sweetening with love chat the fresh young air
All day from rose cheeked morning till dusk we are there
Till the watchman guarding in the tower
Announces the approaching close hour
The gored vermilion sun sank in the West
And the night rests on canopies and on crests
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The winds
From the meadows her walks have left a balm so sweet
That whenever summer wind wilts and sighs
It sets the jewel print of her lovely feet
In violet blue hue as her slaying eyes
To the woody hollows in which we hide and meet
And the heavenly valleys of daunting Paradise
A slender bird in foliage high, his wings would not shake
One long white bloom of a tall sturdy tree
The white bloom reed fell bending into the fresh lake
As the pimpernels dozed in the summer sun on the lea
But the rose was all night advocating her sake
Knowing my love promise to me
With the lilies they were all night awake
wondering what my love acts and takes will prove to be
Four winds blowing through the bright sky,
My heart is heavy with forlorn love
You have seen poor me under the burden of love I die,
No remedy from the mountains around or the heaven above
I asked the winds: Tell me then what I shall do
That my maiden love may be honest, virtue and true.
Shall I be stern with her to the haughty
Or shall kisses and sweet talks will sway the maid so naughty
Oh, sighed the spring wind from out the South,
'Lay a kiss upon her voluptuous mouth, '
And the winter grumpy wind from out the West without mercy or taste,
'Wound the heart within the lovely valley of her breast, '
A prompt protest came from the summer wind from out the East,
'On the contrary! Send her a banquet of a lavish feast, '
With disdain and mockery breaths the autumn wind from out the North,
Exclaimed: 'In the tempest winds thrust her forth;
Shall I be cruel and harsh as she
Then her love will pacify and relent to be kind to me
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A walk in the park
I saw them walking in a park under bright summer day
She and him in a walk of lovers calm pray
He the man I might have grown to be
She my lover, I so yearn to live and love in rapture and glee
His hair was full in mane drawing light and people sight
Tall and handsome, an ora in stature and in height
Unlike me of insignificant form and small diminished frame
Shall I compare myself to him, I can make no claim
Yet His body was a thing grown thin stark,
Like as if hungry for love that never came;
His soul was frozen in the park so aimless and dark,
Unwarmed untouched forever by love's flame.
I felt my lover instantaneously look at him
And then turn suddenly to me –
Her eyes were magic to defy in grim
The unfortunate compare I dread; the man I shall never be.
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Love-Doubt
Yearning upon the faint rose-curves that flit
About her child-sweet mouth and innocent cheek,
And in her eyes watching with eyes all meek
The light and shadow of laughter, I would sit
Mute, knowing out two souls might never knit;
As if a pale proud lily-flower should seek
The love of some red rose, but could not speak
One word of her blithe tongue to tell of it.
For oh, my Love was sunny-lipped and stirred
With all swift light and sound and gloom not long
Retained; I, with dreams weighed, that ever heard
Sad burdens echoing through the loudest throng
She, the wild song of some May-merry bird;
I, but the listening maker of a song.
poem by Archibald Lampman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I dread the calm
I dread the calm in the morning of a mourn without a sound
It is a calm that comes to foster a greater grief
It is a calm light of dusk before ever dew was falling from leaves
It is a calm sinking in calm pattering to the ground
I fear the calm and scudding winds in the high wold
And on the dews the drench the gorse
And all the silvery gossamer
Shaken into gilded gold
Is it calm and still in the dusky light over great plains
That sweeps late and swiftly in autumn bowers
Of secluded farms and solitary towers
To merge with the bounding and the saint
Is it calm on the vast sea under the spangled silver sleep
The waves that sway in colossus to lull themselves to rest
And the dead calm in the deepening breast
Which heaves with the heaving deep
Yet calm is the mute peace in the meadow’s air
The forest gloom with loom of leaves that redden to fall
And in my chest if calm can ever dwell at all
If any calm is there, it is the calm of despair
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I wish I could remember the first night we met
I wish I could remember the first night we met
First hour, first moments of stolen glances
Your silhouette in my arms as we lead our first dances
If I only knew back then the ordeal has a life spread
If bright or dim with summer haze that night might be
It was summer at the sill of autumn not winter for aught I can say
Yet so unrecorded the night slipped away
So blind was I to see and fore see
One cannot make the budding of his tree
That would blossom for many Mays
If I could only recollect that night of our love to be
Such a night of all nights amaze
If I only could collect back that show
And let it not come and go
As trace be in a thaw of meadow snow
But as a star that eternally at the edge of the sky glows
It seemed to mean so little then yet meant so much
If I only can recall that first touch
The first touch of hand in hand in youth dance
And forever seal this first eyes locked glance.
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There will come
There will come upon the earth, calm spring time
When soft rains fall and raise the adores of wet ground
And flowers leap and bloom into their prime
As the swallows circle and bounce in vast meadows, shimmering sound
And no one will know of my time under the sun
And no one will reflect or contemplate of my days, not one
Not even one would mind, neither happy bird on a bough tree
That I have perished; erased diminished with no memory utterly
Come red black Robins and wear your feathery fire,
Whistling your whims on a low summer wind stirring fence-wire
And fat oily frogs in a garden pool, sing your rhythm all night
And tree heavy with late season foliage play the wind that turn you white
The world will go on as we do when an acquaintance dies
We hurry to burry and move as if it never concerns our fates; blinding our eyes
Oh that first Spring after death, herself when she wakes at dawn
Minding her course would scarcely notice that we were gone.
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A Midnight summer hour
A Midnight summer hour, in the streets of a dormant city
That has not a sound from the warm dusty, pavement
The pale moon has lost her memory in nightly orbit of pity
She is smiling alone in awkward mockery, madness no sentiment
In the dimming lamplight the withered leaves of late summer
Are collecting at my feet and at the corner streets
And the wind by them begins at their hiss to moan
So terrifying sounds that it delays the hesitating dawn
The memory of her all alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the reminisces of old happy days
She was so beautiful then under the sun at the bay
I remember the time I knew that happiness was a delight
Let this divine memory live again in my fantasy
As I walk desolated in empty streets as every street lamp
Seems to beat a fatalistic beacon of final flame
A warning, of its doom approaching end and agonizing ecstasy
Someone mutters at the street lamp gutters band
And soon a fierce and foul dawn rises on the beach sand
The light from her window into the darkness beams
She is no longer mine such an abrasive realistic it seems
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My Home Town
The last time I saw my home town, her trees were dressed for spring,
And her people walked beneath those trees and birds found songs to sing.
The last time I saw my home town, her heart was warm and gay,
No matter how cruelly they change her, I'll remember her that way.
I dodged and hided in the fields of golden corn that I had dodged for years.
The chorus of the wind blowing the heavy loaded stems was music to my ears
I thought of happy hours and pure childhood lost, and laborious people who toiled their day
Old women, selling flowers, in markets at dawn, kids rushing to their play
Lonely I was, scanning with lonely eyes, seeking her in vain
Her streets are where they were, but there's no sign of her; the pain is insane
Where are the children who ran in the park and in sun sandy paths
And those who danced under summer night looked at the stars and laugh
I used to watch as a child the fair morning fog clearly chiming in its flowing before my eye;
Warmly and broadly the south winds were winding and blowing over the sky.
One after another the white clouds over the fields of wild tulips were fleeting;
Every heart that gorgeous May morning in joyance was brimming and beating
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Her two great eyes
Her two great eyes will slay me suddenly;
Their beauty so stunningly shakes and penetrates me who once was serene;
Straight through my heart the wound is quick sharp and keen.
This is such a rare beauty my eyes never before have seen
Only her word; her smile or any tune will heal the injury
To my hurt heart, while yet the wound is clean -
Her pair of two great eyes will slay me suddenly and savagely without a jury;
Their beauty shakes me who was once serene.
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Endless love
You have stormed upon me and I have played thee without pardon
In vain I hinder you by highest walls and deepest moats; and oak thick gates
My heart and my passion spell under your flowers garden
As my body shakes surrounded, dizzy and lost in the presence of your light gait
Through ancient time and sage books you are the sinner and the judge
Oh, ever capricious soul, as my eyes enthralled to your control
At sunset summer street as gored dusk claims its reign and role
You will gather my shreds and pieces as piles of wheat with a farmer touch
Never beg or appease those who from your vicinity withdraw and shun
I alone will walk through your secret gardens abundant with various hues
As my pray is solely and unpretentious yearning for none
My pray is one only and unique praying but for you
Till the endless of paths of sadness, till the depth of lonely nights
In long desolate streets of iron slummed gates in a dormant city under moon bright
Love ordered my loyalty and commitment to you not short of a kill
To bring fresh bread and harvested salt upon your door sill
Hold my heart in your capturing hand
Leave it no pity when it rises to burst or to bend
Let it not be in dark dimming isolated room
Without the outdoor flickering dancing stars of the sky gloom
There rise the hot passionate moon as a burning kiss
There heaven wet with thunder and wind and a witch's hiss
There a rose bush will dropp its petals of treasure
As I pick them up for your bloom and eyes pleasure
There will come the time by the sound of drum and bell
In city throng din and broken roar
I would fall my final withdrawal
As my smile vanishes like sparks from fire at last burst soar
Yet till the end of long paths of sore sadness, till the depth of lonely nights
In ever stretched desolate streets of iron gates in a dormant city under moon bright
Love ordered my loyalty and commitment to you not short of a kill
To bring fresh bread and harvested salt upon your door sill
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Shall I care?
Shall I care at all, that in the dreams and in the languor of time
My poetry does not show me and my inner most being and prime
For my poems are fragrance, and not a credible reflection
Words like shadows in disharmony dance and daunt imagination
But I do care, for life will be over so soon,
And I will be lost, forgotten as my being never happen
Like a small candle in mid day bright noon
And my quill idle, blunt and not sharpen
yet, like barley bending in harsh summer winds throng
And rising again and again
So would I, free and unbroken rise from agony and pain
Day long, night long change my sorrow into words of song
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With Madness Like to Mine
NOT one is filled with madness like to mine
In all the taverns! my soiled robe lies here,
There my neglected book, both pledged for wine.
With dust my heart is thick, that should be clear,
A glass to mirror forth the Great King's face;
One ray of light from out Thy dwelling-place
To pierce my night, oh God! and draw me near.
From out mine eyes unto my garment's hem
A river flows; perchance my cypress-tree
Beside that stream may rear her lofty stem,
Watering her roots with tears. Ah, bring to me
The wine vessel! since my Love's cheek is hid,
A flood of grief comes from my heart unbid,
And turns mine eyes into a bitter sea!
Nay, by the hand that sells me wine, I vow
No more the brimming cup shall touch my lips,
Until my mistress with her radiant brow
Adorns my feast-until Love's secret slips
From her, as from the candle's tongue of flame,
Though I, the singèd moth, for very shame,
Dare not extol Love's light without eclipse.
Red wine I worship, and I worship her--
Speak not to me of anything beside,
For nought but these on earth or heaven I care.
What though the proud narcissus flowers defied
Thy shining eyes to prove themselves more bright,
Yet heed them not! those that are clear of sight
Follow not them to whom all light's denied.
Before the tavern door a Christian sang
To sound of pipe and drum, what time the earth
Awaited the white dawn, and gaily rang
Upon mine ear those harbingers of mirth:
'If the True Faith be such as thou dost say,
Alas! my Hafiz, that this sweet To-day
Should bring unknown To-morrow to the birth!'
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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