An Angel in the House
How sweet it were, if without feeble fright,
Or dying of the dreadful beauteous sight,
An angel came to us, and we could bear
To see him issue from the silent air
At evening in our room, and bend on ours
His divine eyes, and bring us from his bowers
News of dear friends, and children who have never
Been dead indeed,--as we shall know forever.
Alas! we think not what we daily see
About our hearths,--angels that are to be,
Or may be if they will, and we prepare
Their souls and ours to meet in happy air;--
A child, a friend, a wife whose soft heart sings
In unison with ours, breeding its future wings.
poem by James Henry Leigh Hunt
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Feast Of The Assumption
Dark! Dark! Dark!
The sun is set; the day is dead:
Thy Feast has fled;
My eyes are wet with tears unshed;
I bow my head;
Where the star-fringed shadows softly sway
I bend my knee,
And, like a homesick child, I pray,
Mary, to thee.
Dark! Dark! Dark!
And, all the day -- since white-robed priest
In farthest East,
In dawn's first ray -- began the Feast,
I -- I the least --
Thy least, and last, and lowest child,
I called on thee!
Virgin! didst hear? my words were wild;
Didst think of me?
Dark! Dark! Dark!
Alas! and no! The angels bright,
With wings as white
As a dream of snow in love and light,
Flashed on thy sight;
They shone like stars around thee, Queen!
I knelt afar --
A shadow only dims the scene
Where shines a star!
Dark! Dark! Dark!
And all day long, beyond the sky,
Sweet, pure, and high,
The angel's song swept sounding by
Triumphantly;
And when such music filled thy ear,
Rose round thy throne,
How could I hope that thou wouldst hear
My far, faint moan?
Dark! Dark! Dark!
And all day long, where altars stand,
Or poor or grand,
A countless throng from every land,
With lifted hand,
Winged hymns to thee from sorrow's vale
In glad acclaim;
How couldst thou hear my lone lips wail
Thy sweet, pure name?
Dark! Dark! Dark!
Alas! and no! Thou didst not hear
Nor bend thy ear,
To prayer of woe as mine so drear;
For hearts more dear
Hid me from hearing and from sight
This bright Feast-day;
Wilt hear me, Mother, if in its night
I kneel and pray?
Dark! Dark! Dark!
The sun is set, the day is dead;
Thy Feast hath fled;
My eyes are wet with the tears I shed;
I bow my head;
Angels and altars hailed thee, Queen,
All day; ah! be
To-night what thou hast ever been --
A mother to me!
Dark! Dark! Dark!
Thy queenly crown in angels' sight
Is fair and bright;
Ah! lay it down; for, oh! to-night
Its jeweled light
Shines not as the tender love-light shines,
O Mary! mild,
In the mother's eyes, whose pure heart pines
For poor, lost child!
Dark! Dark! Dark!
Sceptre in hand, thou dost hold sway
Fore'er and aye
In angel-land; but, fair Queen! pray
Lay it away.
Let thy sceptre wave in the realms above
Where angels are;
But, Mother! fold in thine arms of love
Thy child afar!
Dark! Dark! Dark!
Mary, I call! Wilt hear the prayer
My poor lips dare?
Yea! be to all a Queen most fair,
Crown, sceptre, bear!
But look on me with a mother's eyes
From heaven's bliss;
And waft to me from the starry skies
A mother's kiss!
Dark! Dark! Dark!
The sun is set; the day is dead;
Her Feast has fled;
Can she forget the sweet blood shed,
The last words said
That evening -- 'Woman! behold thy Son!
Oh! priceless right,
Of all His children! The last, least one,
Is heard to-night.
poem by Abram Joseph Ryan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A War Song to Englishmen
Prepare, prepare the iron helm of war,
Bring forth the lots, cast in the spacious orb;
Th' Angel of Fate turns them with mighty hands,
And casts them out upon the darken'd earth!
Prepare, prepare!
Prepare your hearts for Death's cold hand! prepare
Your souls for flight, your bodies for the earth;
Prepare your arms for glorious victory;
Prepare your eyes to meet a holy God!
Prepare, prepare!
Whose fatal scroll is that? Methinks 'tis mine!
Why sinks my heart, why faltereth my tongue?
Had I three lives, I'd die in such a cause,
And rise, with ghosts, over the well-fought field.
Prepare, prepare!
The arrows of Almighty God are drawn!
Angels of Death stand in the louring heavens!
Thousands of souls must seek the realms of light,
And walk together on the clouds of heaven!
Prepare, prepare!
Soldiers, prepare! Our cause is Heaven's cause;
Soldiers, prepare! Be worthy of our cause:
Prepare to meet our fathers in the sky:
Prepare, O troops, that are to fall to-day!
Prepare, prepare!
Alfred shall smile, and make his harp rejoice;
The Norman William, and the learnèd Clerk,
And Lion Heart, and black-brow'd Edward, with
His loyal queen, shall rise, and welcome us!
Prepare, prepare!
poem by William Blake
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Wilde Angel....Doc Wilde
Wilde Angel the sun that brightens my every day
Wilde Angel the brightest star that lights up my darkest night
Wilde Angel my divine super hero
Wilde Angel chases away the scary monsters from under my bed
Wilde Angel big soft cuddly teady bear
Wilde Angel with outstreched wings ready to break my every fall
Wilde Angel with invisible wings
Wings that lift my spirits
Make them soar high above the heavens
Wilde Angel you graced my life and made it worth living
You heard my thoughts my inner voice
The silent pain
The deafening silence
Wilde Angel your voice sings a lullaby to my heart
Sweeter than any chocolate kiss
Cradles my pain and rocks my world
Wilde Angel your heart brought forth and did lay before me a gift
A gift of friendship unconditional
Lily white and pure
Wilde Angel you wipe away the tears even before they fall
Turning them into pearls of wisdom
Wilde Angel......you are the answer to my every prayer
You are the love, the blind faith, the healing friend my strenght and my joy
You are Doc Wilde......Leila's very own Wilde Angel
Don't ever tuck away those wings Doc.......Love LeilaXXXX
Too Many Angels
Theres an angel on a ribbon
Hanging from the armoire door
Theres a cupid with his feet crossed
On the bird cage by the door
Theres a baby angel drummer
His eyes are open wide
And two more tiny cherubs
On the mantle side by side
Too many angels
Have seen me crying
Too many angels
Have heard you lying
There are photographs of children
All in their silver frames
On the window sills and tabletops
Lit by candle flames
And upon their angel faces
Lifes expectations climb
Where the moment has preserved them
From the ravages of time
Too many angels
Have seen me crying
Too many angels
Have heard you lying
Bring the morning on
Voices sing of day
I want to step out in the morning sun
Through the flood of tears
I want this darkness gone
Your sweet face appears
These apparitions coming one by one
But theres no end in sight
Only the dead of night
And too many angels
Too many angels
Have seen me crying
Too many angels
Have heard you lying
Too many angels
Bring the morning on
Voices sing of day
I want to step out in the morning sun
Through the flood of tears
I want to greet the dawn
Cast away these fears
Forget about the things we could have done
Bring the morning on
Voices sing of day
I want to watch the children as they run
Through the broken years
I want this darkness gone
Your sweet face appears
These apparitions coming one by one
But theres no end in sight
Only the dead of night
And too many angels
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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OH, Angel in Heaven Above
Oh, Angel Eyes One Day I heard an Angel's voice & I Said To The Angel I see Your Big Beautiful Eyes in The Haven's Above, OH, Angel in Heaven Above,
OH! Wont you Come Down here & Talk to me..I long to Hear your Soft Sweet Voice Sing to me, When you just Talk to me..When the Heaven above Had opened up & your wings stretched out so proud & wide with Your feathers unfolding, like a gentle
tide, Soring throw the midnight sky so Gracefully, Just like an Swan Swimming in a pond. & then
an Angel Appeared, Oh to my eyes My dearest Angels the most beautiful site, I have ever seen that has
just came from Heaven Above, Standing In front of me singing that never ending Sweet time Summer song So
Gracefully with your Angel's eyes, they shine so bright It, lights the darkness of a moonless
midnight sky. As you Talk to me with those Sweet worlds of Fraze in my Ear, Oh so sexy, soft &
sweet, Oh How I love it......I had such Fun hearing it. But now That I am down & out For Awhile.
Can you Repair my Broken Heart so I Can take control of my life again. That you Have Broke, For
Which You Don't Seem To Talk to Me any More Or is it like a beat that my heart is Missing.
Oh Angel Friend of Mine....... Can you restore Every thing That's Broken Does It matter If It's
black or white, Down & out for Awhile or Up & Running like A humming Bird............. But then
again I could be wrong. The words, they linger on the tip of my tongue Oh Angel My Dear.What have
I done wrong? In the heart My Darling Angel Friend.. A feather, A Feather Flowing in the Wind is
my Heart, Oh Please Cough that Feather for me my Darling Angel For Silence is Loulder Then THUNDER
& Talk to me Again....For It Been a Long Time For Thow Has Talked To Me........Oh Angel, Oh Angel
Where For Are Thow Angel...For Thow Has Gone Away & left Me In The Dark, Oh Angel Eyes, But, It's Not
That I am Sacred Of The Dark It's Because I Can't Sleep With a Light On..Or Is It Just That You've
Closed Your Angel Eyes For Awhile, Oh Angel friend Of Mine.So If That Is The Case Then Well you
Open Your Angel Eyes My Princess Darling To Me & Speak To Me With That Sexy, Soft & Sweet Voice That
You Sing To Me, When You Just Talk To Me. Oh Angel from Heaven Above......... Oh, I Long To Hear
Your Soft Sweet Sexy Voice Sing To Me Again Someday.... Because Your Voice Was Filled With
Sweet Melody, So Worm, Soft & Sexy To My Ear. Is It Really Good By For Ever My Princess Darling
To Me.......& For The Thunder Roll Again, Just As The Whisper From An Angel In Pain For Why Shall
Any Angel Be In Pain, Oh Angel, Oh Angel Wont You Opened Up Your Wings & Stetch Them Out, So
Proud And Wide With Your Feathers Unfolding, Like A Gentle Tide & Fly To Me & Tell Me What's
Wrong So May Help You Over Come This Pain In Your Heart & Be Free Again From The Pain That is
With In The, For I Have Looked To The Heavens To Find The, But Thow is No Where To Be Found, Oh
Heaven's Above Where For Art Thow Angel That Used To Talk So Sweetly In they Ear, But Now Has Gone
Away It Seems At Least For now, If Not For Ever, I Look In The Mirror & I Seen A Trace Of The One
That I Miss And Her Beautiful Face Be Bind Me But When I Looked Around There Was An Empty Feeling
Of The Love That I Once Made Is Now Gone Away..... Your Sweet Voice Warms Up My Soul & My Heart
Skips A Beat I Will Never Stop Looking For Her, You've Changed All Our Lives Every One That You
Meet OH Angel Eyes. Your Memory Will Last Forever, Forever And A Day, OH Angel In Heaven Above..
I live Without Her For So Long & now I Wont A Change.......I Live Every Day Now Just To Hear your
Sweet Soft Sexey Voice Sing To Me When You Just Talk To Me....But For Now I am Waiting On That
Sign I have Been Looking For All My Life...........1994
poem by Ronald Summerville
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Complaint Of a Forsaken Indian Woman
Before I see another day,
Oh let my body die away!
In sleep I heard the northern gleams;
The stars, they were among my dreams;
In rustling conflict through the skies,
I heard, I saw the flashes drive,
And yet they are upon my eyes,
And yet I am alive;
Before I see another day,
Oh let my body die away!
My fire is dead: it knew no pain;
Yet is it dead, and I remain:
All stiff with ice the ashes lie;
And they are dead, and I will die.
When I was well, I wished to live,
For clothes, for warmth, for food, and fire;
But they to me no joy can give,
No pleasure now, and no desire.
Then here contented will I lie
Alone, I cannot fear to die.
Alas! ye might have dragged me on
Another day, a single one!
Too soon I yielded to despair;
Why did ye listen to my prayer
When ye were gone my limb were stronger;
And oh, how grievously I rue,
That, afterward, a little longer,
My friends, I did not follow you!
For strong and without pain I lay,
Dear friends, when ye were gone away.
My Child! they gave thee to another,
A woman who was not thy mother.
When from my arms my Babe they took,
On me how strangely did he look !
Through his whole body something ran,
A most strange working did I see;
---As if he strove to be a man,
That he might pull the sledge for me:
And then he stretched his arm, how wild!
Oh mercy! like a helpless child.
My little joy! my little pride!
In two day more I must have died.
Then do not weep and grieve for me;
I feel I must have died with thee.
O wind, that o'er my head art flying
The way my friends their course did bend,
I should not feel the pain of dying,
Could I with thee a message end;
Too soon, my friend, ye went away;
For I had many thing to say.
I'll follow you across the snow;
Ye travel heavily and slow;
In spite of all my weary pain
I'll look upon your tent again.
---My fire is dead, and snowy white
The water which beside it stood:
The wolf has come to me to-night,
And he has stolen away my food.
Forever left alone am I;
Then wherefore should I fear to die ?
Young as I am, my course is run,
I shall not see another sun;
I cannot lift my limb to know
If they have any life or no.
My poor forsaken child, if I
For once could have thee close to me,
With happy heart I then would die,
And my last thought would happy be;
But thou, dear Babe, art far away,
Nor shall I see another day.
poem by William Wordsworth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crayons
Flowers of Bach in a violet choir
Soft angels in perfect middle C
Harmony where lover’s pray
Soprano sings like starlight
Heaven is a daily pathway
Her eyes seek a child’s smile
Her hands work to bring joy
Her pain hides behind strength
A mother with tears
A mother who wants her child happy
She tells me about her son’s new crayons
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O silent night, O holy night, O night divine!
A silent night. It was a long, long silent night.
The hopes and dreams were lost for many years.
The sin's chains kept the cages full.
The wings were broken, nobody could fly,
The prophecies were forgotten, with no freedom in the sight.
O silent night, O holy night,
The hope is shining over the lost world, again.
The stars, filled with wonder,
join the angels clothed in light,
and sing a majestic song together.
At the break of dawn, at the edge of the village,
a Savior is born and laid in a manger.
O silent night, O holy night,
The King of Kings, a humble birth
Goodwill to men and peace on Earth!
Knees of clay pray in silence,
We bring gifts to the newborn King,
On the love's altar, the hearts are burning,
The souls grow wings and fly to kiss the heavens.
It snows slowly with flakes of blessings over the Earth,
The smiling Child has secretly given me a star.
I keep it forever in my heart to remind me of this Christmas Night.
It is mine. It shines, and it shines...
O silent night, O holy night, O night divine!
poem by Marius Alexandru (12 December 2020)
Submitted by anonym
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Angel Flight
The Angels gather in their millions
perhaps billions,
before the Altar.
They fly in
blanketing the sky
with soaring wings,
land softly
and move
toward the Altar
with quiet resolve.
Some exhausted,
Some crippled,
Some dying.
She stood before them
hands aloft
saying'
'Come my Angels
now is the time for your needs.'
One by one
with each
she ministers to them;
all was still
despite how many
landed there-
an eerie quiet,
With one she patched a wing,
another received encouragement;
others still asked and received
new assignments.
A bloodied hand was mended
an angel heart renewed
sleep was all some needed,
others more than that.
At her signal
all raised their wings
and covered one another underneath:
The Angel Salute
to Angels no longer with the Angel Band
gone above to be with Him.
There was too
Angel Music-
beautiful Angel Music.
These angels are
Earthly Angels
the ones who
look after the children,
the needy,
the poor, me and you.
They are with us every day
for our Betterment.
They take sometimes the harms
meant for us;
the burning spear pierces
their heart
not ours.
They stand between us and rushing death
some times
absorbing the blow.
.
Their eyes blind sometimes
rather than ours.
Blind angels,
nonetheless fly
guided only by
Good Intent.
Once an eternity
they all gather
to mend
and receive succor
from She:
The Angel of the Angels
who blesses each and every one
and looks after their needs.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mary's Boy Child
Long time ago in Bethlehem
So the Holy Bible say
Mary's Boy Child, Jesus Christ
Was born on Christmas Day
Hark, now hear the angels sing
"New King's born today
And man will live forevermore
Because of Christmas Day."
Joseph and his wife Mary
Came to Bethlehem that night
They found no place to bear her Child
Not a single room in sight
Trumpets sound and angels sing
Listen to what they say
That man will live forevermore
Because of Christmas Day
By and by they found a little nook
In a stable all forlorn
And in a manger cold and dark
Mary's little Boy was born
Hark, now hear the angels sing,
"New King's born today
And man will live forevermore
Because of Christmas Day."
Trumpets sound and angels sing
Listen to what they say
That man will live forevermore
Because of Christmas Day
Because of Christmas Day
O Holy night the stars are brightly shining
It is the night of our dear Savior's birth
Long lay the world in sin and error pining
Til He appeared and the soul felt its worth
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn
Fall on your knees
O hear the angel voices
O night divine!
O night when Christ was born
O night divine!
O night, O night divine!
O night, hear the angel sing
That man will live forevermore
Because of Christmas Day
That man will live forevermore
Because of Christmas Day
song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love and Friend (Retouched)
In my gallery of heart
You as my subject of art
To ask people to ask them-self...
What colors they pick for their friend?
Common question plays on mind
If our choice, wrongly taken
Can the heart be mend again?
Observe the piece carefully
Good one naturally touch gently
Only can brush with sincerely hand
A Magic touch of soft blend
Whatever colors to be now
Like or not you will know
As your feeling flows
by someone call friend?
or love? friend, love
For hours they stuck,
Just confused in muse
Figuring an abstract their feeling reflects
Red real love bound on blue true love
Purple explain how love is not only for a lover
It designed to fit someone called friend
by my great love, My dear God
Love of a friend
purest like a blessing rain
when it fall to kiss dry and hot desert
grow and branching for a nice feeling
just like a plant greened on desert
eyes being comfort
calm never less
beautiful and blessed...
accept all without condition
A true friend
Speak deep in heart
Nothing with money
Sweeter than honey
Hate to hate
Love to love
When we need and we get feed
Love present everytime friends meet
Count your feeling, blessing
Color will fades
When you losing a true friend
The art will less it's intense
losing our eyes...blinding will
losing a taste of friendship..Miss the sweet
losing a sweet of memory...Loose the glory
we need a friend to see and you my eyes
Shall be blend our souls
For the ray of light invades
To be a masterpiece of art
We need to hold together
Avoid all seven colors fade
because you are my hidden sight
My heart swimming in our glade
So u could see how beautiful to make
Love is for you
For a friend
For someone like you
My lips, my tongue, my voice
verbally deliver a word
An art as a theme to thank
Live start and end with love
For always be my great friend
Grant you will never losing me
If you could hear me
My heartbeats repeatedly telling you
I could be your third eyes forever
Explain the images of art in life
So friend will keep you sight always clear
Friend or Love? it is the same?
My art is colorful blue
The art of heart is you
Framing you now
As my precious art subject
So keep it to be happy forever
Forever with you
: : : : : : : : : : : : Theme: Friendship: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
We forgotten how deep friendship can bring, It's a love
that we need to protect, to keep in rest of our life :)
This poem has second version==> bouquet of word......
Dedicated to all my friends for all cares and hearts for me
(Art of Heart)
............................................. ......................................
Old version
People say what is
friend?
what is love?
they always confused
because
love is not only for a lover
it also makes for a friend
and great love for God
love of friend
like...
a rain that
fall on dry and hot desert
then it grows into a nice feeling
just like a plant greened on desert
beautiful and blessed...
a true friend
nothing with money
sweeter than honey
hate to hate friend
love to love friend
because
losing a friend
mean
losing our eyes..
losing a taste of friendship
losing a sweet of memory
each of the ray of light invades
don't let the seven colors fade
so here
i just want to say
thanks for be my good friend
i promise u will have
me as your eyes forever
...................................... ................................................. ..............
poem by Unwritten Soul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Every Person Has An Angel
Every person has an Angel,
Who watch us from above,
They fly down from Heaven,
Whenever we need their love.
Some Angels may be a loved one,
Who has died and passed from earth,
Are maybe your Angel,
Has been with you since birth.
Some Angels stay always with us,
Forever by our side,
They have their wings around us,
To keep us warm inside.
They help us with our burdens,
And help to ease our fears,
They help us through our pain,
And wipe away our tears.
You cannot see your Angel,
Though they are always near,
But in certain circumstances,
Your Angel may appear.
Your Angel may appear to you,
In a dream or by their touch,
To tell you in your time of need,
They will be your crutch.
And in your final moments,
When death is at your door,
Your Angel will take you by the hand,
And through the Heavens soar.
Your Angel will leave you at the gate,
As all of Heaven sings,
God will come to greet you,
And give you your Angel Wings.
By Richard Netherland Cook
poem by Richard Netherland Cook
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Little Popeet - the Lost Child
Near by the silent waters of the Mediterranean,
And at the door of an old hut stood a coloured man,
Whose dress was oriental in style and poor with wear,
While adown his furrowed cheeks ran many a tear.
And the poor coloured man seemed very discontent,
And his grief overcame him at this moment;
And he wrung his hands in agony wild,
And he cried, "Oh! help me, great God, to find my child."
"And Ada, my dear wife, but now she is dead,
Which fills my poor heart with sorrow and dread;
She was a very loving wife, but of her I'm bereft,
And I and my lost child are only left.
And, alas! I know not where to find my boy,
Who is dear to me and my only joy;
But with the help of God I will find him,
And this day in search of him I will begin."
So Medoo leaves Turkey and goes to France,
Expecting to find his boy there perhaps by chance;
And while there in Paris he was told
His boy by an Arab had been sold
To a company of French players that performed in the street,
Which was sad news to hear about his boy Popeet;
And while searching for him and making great moan,
He was told he was ill and in Madame Mercy's Home.
Then away went Medoo with his heart full of joy,
To gaze upon the face of his long-lost boy;
Who had been treated by the players mercilessly,
But was taken to the home of Madame Celeste.
She was a member of the players and the leader's wife,
And she loved the boy Popeet as dear as her life,
Because she had no children of her own;
And for the poor ill-treated boy often she did moan.
And when Popeet's father visited the Home,
He was shown into a room where Popeet lay alone,
Pale and emaciated, in his little bed;
And when his father saw him he thought he was dead.
And when Popeet saw his father he lept out of bed,
And only that his father caught him he'd been killed dead;
And his father cried, " Popeet, my own darling boy,
Thank God I've found you, and my heart's full of joy."
Then Madame Mercy's tears fell thick and fast,
When she saw that Popeet had found his father at last;
Then poor Popeet was taken home without delay,
And lived happy with his father for many a day.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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A Vist To Edgar's Grave
Hello my friend
Long ago
Buried under the ground
So cold
Hope that you are not
Feeling too lonely
I know
It has been
Many a year
Since last I came for a vist
I am sorry for that
So sorry
Wish that this was not our last
As we sit here
You and I
My old friend
Upon a midnight dreary
I ponder
Weak and weary
About how
I should go on
How I should tell
Of thesad news I bring
To bear
With such sorrow and a heavy heart
Breaking with missing you
I can hesitate no longer
My beloved
I pray
Tonight
That I shall not break your heart
Soon
So very soon
I fear that I shall
Come to dance with
The souls of your fellow dead
In that haunted palace
Way below the clouds where
Angels fear to thread
This soul reborn
So many times
Now flys with the raven
Speaking a strange tongue
In my dreams
I see
The masque of the red death
Slipping down and over
Over my face so still
Painting a picture of death
The raven comes to my window
To whisper soft and deadly
Your beloved Poe
You shall part from now
Sweet tragic Annabelee
Say goodby
For your lover you shall sing to
NEVERMORE
poem by Ramona Thompson
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The Saddest Fate
To touch a broken lute,
To strike a jangled string,
To strive with tones forever mute
The dear old tunes to sing--
What sadder fate could any heart befall?
Alas! dear child, never to sing at all.
To sigh for pleasures flown,
To weep for withered flowers,
To count the blessings we have known,
Lost with the vanished hours--
What sadder fate could any heart befall?
Alas! dear child, ne'er to have known them at all.
To dream of love and rest,
To know the dream has past,
To bear within an aching breast
Only a void at last--
What sadder fate could any heart befall?
Alas! dear child, ne'er to have loved at all.
To trust an unknown good,
To hope, but all in vain,
Over a far-off bliss to brood,
Only to find it pain--
What sadder fate could any soul befall?
Alas! dear child, never to hope at all.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mask
In life you meet various people,
some cunning some innocently simple.
the two types are always disguised,
by a mask of emotions, carefully devised.
When you meet someone you cant be sure,
whether their heart is corrupt or pure.
' how much more time? ' you ask,
'before I get to know, the man behind the mask.'
Sometimes you are lucky enough,
to find a soft heart,
beneath an exterior that's rough.
but alas those unlucky souls,
who meet people with selfish goals.
They call them a friend and hold them dear,
but do not realise, that they are not as they appear.
It hurts a lot when 'friends' turn foes,
For sharp thorns do accompany the beautiful rose.
Now, I too hide the real me,
behind a mask put up for the world to see.
Too afraid to let it go,
in case a friend turns out to be a foe.
I meet people with a smile on my face,
but keep the mask handy, just in case.
Wish I could meet someone true,
so I could throw away the mask,
with which I grew.
poem by Dipti Date Gokhale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Tale of Elsinore
A little child stood thinking, sorrowfully and ill at ease,
In a forest beneath the branches of the tall pine trees -
And his big brown eyes with tears seemed dim,
While one soft arm rested on a huge dog close by him.
And only four summers had passed o'er his baby head,
And, poor little child, his twin brother was dead,
Who had died but a few days before,
And now he must play alone, for he'd see him no more.
And for many generations 'tis said for a truth
That the eldest bairn of the Cronberg family died early in youth,
Owing to a curse that pursued them for many a day,
Because the Cronberg chief had carried a lovely maiden away,
That belonged, 'tis said, to the bold Viking chief,
And her aged mother could find no relief;
And she cursed the Cronberg family in accents wild,
For the loss of her darling, beautiful child.
So at last the little child crept back to its home,
And entered the silent nursery alone,
Where he knew since morning his twin brother had lain,
But, alas! they would never walk hand in hand again.
And, pausing breathless, he gazed into the darkened room,
And there he saw in the dark gloom
The aged Gudrun keeping her lonely watch o'er the dead,
Sad and forlorn at the head of the bed.
Then little Olaf sprang joyfully into the room,
And bounding upon the bed, not fearing the corpse in the gloom;
And crept close beside the white form,
That was wont to walk by his side night and morn.
And with his dimpled hands his brother he did stroke,
And with grief his little heart almost broke;
And he whispered in baby talk his brother's name,
But, alas! to him no answer came.
But his good old nurse let little Olaf be,
The more it was very sad to see;
But she could not check the child, nor on him frown,
And as she watched him, the tears came trickling down.
Then Olaf cried, "Oh, nursey, when will he speak again?"
And old Gudrun said, "My lamb,'tis all in vain,
He is singing sweet songs with the angels now,"
And kissed him fondly on cheek and brow.
And the same evening, Olaf wandered out on the green,
Which to him and his brother oft a playground had been;
And lying down on the messy bank, their old play place,
He fell asleep with a heavenly smile upon his face.
And as he slept if seemed to him an angel drew near,
And bending o'er him seemed to drop a tear,
And swept his closed eyes with her downy wing,
Then in whispers softly she did sing -
"Love God and be good to all, and one day
You'll meet your brother in Heaven in grand array,
On that bright and golden happy shore,
Where you and your brother shall part no more."
Then the angel kissed him and vanished away,
And Olaf started to his feet in great dismay;
Then he turned his eyes to Heaven, for his heart felt sore,
And from that day the house of Cronberg was cursed no more.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Jamie's Puzzle
There was grief within our household
Because of a vacant chair.
Our mother, so loved and precious,
No longer was sitting there.
Our hearts grew heavy with sorrow,
Our eyes with tears were blind,
And little Jamie was wondering,
Why we were left behind.
We had told our little darling,
Of the land of love and light,
Of the saints all crowned with glory,
And enrobed in spotless white.
We said that our precious mother,
Had gone to that land so fair,
To dwell with beautiful angels,
And to be forever there.
But the child was sorely puzzled,
Why dear grandmamma should go
To dwell in a stranger city,
When her children loved her so.
But again the mystic angel
Came with swift and silent tread,
And our sister, Jamie's mother,
Was enrolled among the dead.
To us the mystery deepened,
To Jamie it seemed more clear;
Grandma, he said, must be lonesome,
And mamma has gone to her.
But the question lies unanswered
In our little Jamie's mind,
Why she should go to our mother,
And leave her children behind;
To dwell in that lovely city,
From all that was dear to part,
From children who loved to nestle
So closely around her heart.
Dear child, like you, we are puzzled,
With problems that still remain;
But think in the great hereafter
Their meaning will all be plain.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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The Dead Child
ALL silent is the room,
There is no stir of breath,
Save mine, as in the gloom
I sit alone with Death.
Short life it had, the sweet,
Small babe here lying dead,
With tapers at its feet
And tapers at its head.
Dear little hands, too frail
Their grasp on life to hold;
Dear little mouth so pale,
So solemn, and so cold;
Small feet that nevermore
About the house shall run;
Thy little life is o’er!
Thy little journey done!
Sweet infant, dead too soon,
Thou shalt no more behold
The face of sun or moon,
Or starlight clear and cold;
Nor know, where thou art gone,
The mournfulness and mirth
We know who dwell upon
This sad, glad, mad, old earth.
The foolish hopes and fond
That cheat us to the last
Thou shalt not feel; beyond
All these things thou hast passed.
The struggles that upraise
The soul by slow degrees
To God, through weary days—
Thou hast no part in these.
And at thy childish play
Shall we, O little one,
No more behold thee? Nay,
No more beneath the sun.
Death’s sword may well be bared
’Gainst those grown old in strife,
But, ah! it might have spared
Thy little unlived life.
Why talk as in despair?
Just God, whose rod I kiss,
Did not make thee so fair
To end thy life at this.
There is some pleasant shore—
Far from His Heaven of Pride,
Where those strong souls who bore
His Cross in bliss abide—
Some place where feeble things,
For Life’s long war too weak,
Young birds with unfledged wings,
Buds nipped by storm-winds bleak,
Young lambs left all forlorn
Beneath a bitter sky,
Meek souls to sorrow born,
Find refuge when they die.
There day is one long dawn,
And from the cups of flowers
Light dew-filled clouds updrawn
Rain soft and perfumed showers.
Child Jesus walketh there
Amidst child-angel bands,
With smiling lips, and fair
White roses in His hands.
I kiss thee on the brow,
I kiss thee on the eyes—
Farewell! Thy home is now
The Children’s Paradise.
poem by Victor James Daley
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I Fell In Love Wth An Angel
I fell in love with an angel,
an angel in disguise.
I fell in love with an angel.
I could tell when I looked in his eyes.
Angels are perfect in all God's ways
and no man is supposed to be.
But when God made you my dearest,
He threw away the key.
One like you was enough for Him
and of course enough for me.
The first time that we kissed my dear
it was so heavenly.
And why was I one to capture the prize,
this angel in diguise?
Maybe creation had plans for us
to cherish our love and be wise.
So as I look back and visualize
just how we did meet,
I realize dear that your angel wings
swept me off of my feet.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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