London Children
We have had the pleasure of hearing and seeing several clever children
from the city of London. We commemorate them in the following.
Do you unto this world belong,
To cheer us merrily with song ?
Are you mortal like ourselves,
Or are you, charming little elves,
Sent from some higher sphere
To bliss and comfort us while here?
May you be spared from earthly woes
And each blossom like the rose.
poem by James McIntyre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fairy Song
The moonlight fades from flower and rose
And the stars dim one by one;
The tale is told, the song is sung,
And the Fairy feast is done.
The night-wind rocks the sleeping flowers,
And sings to them, soft and low.
The early birds erelong will wake:
'T is time for the Elves to go.
O'er the sleeping earth we silently pass,
Unseen by mortal eye,
And send sweet dreams, as we lightly float
Through the quiet moonlit sky;--
For the stars' soft eyes alone may see,
And the flowers alone may know,
The feasts we hold, the tales we tell;
So't is time for the Elves to go.
From bird, and blossom, and bee,
We learn the lessons they teach;
And seek, by kindly deeds, to win
A loving friend in each.
And though unseen on earth we dwell,
Sweet voices whisper low,
And gentle hearts most joyously greet
The Elves where'er they go.
When next we meet in the Fairy dell,
May the silver moon's soft light
Shine then on faces gay as now,
And Elfin hearts as light.
Now spread each wing, for the eastern sky
With sunlight soon shall glow.
The morning star shall light us home:
Farewell! for the Elves must go.
poem by Louisa May Alcott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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London city you claims your right
London city you claims your right
The moving city, days and nights.
it seem no one can sit still
but some do settles
Shifting and moving one place to another
Amazingly there not many Londoner,
Living in London
Widely proclaims by foreign
from every corner earth
We not invading city,
cos this the only city in the world
You can claims your right
Whom you are
Living city of the United Nation
London
poem by See Fee Lee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song. Sorrow
To me this world's a dreary blank,
All hopes in life are gone and fled,
My high strung energies are sank,
And all my blissful hopes lie dead.--
The world once smiling to my view,
Showed scenes of endless bliss and joy;
The world I then but little knew,
Ah! little knew how pleasures cloy;
All then was jocund, all was gay,
No thought beyond the present hour,
I danced in pleasure’s fading ray,
Fading alas! as drooping flower.
Nor do the heedless in the throng,
One thought beyond the morrow give,
They court the feast, the dance, the song,
Nor think how short their time to live.
The heart that bears deep sorrow’s trace,
What earthly comfort can console,
It drags a dull and lengthened pace,
'Till friendly death its woes enroll.--
The sunken cheek, the humid eyes,
E’en better than the tongue can tell;
In whose sad breast deep sorrow lies,
Where memory's rankling traces dwell.--
The rising tear, the stifled sigh,
A mind but ill at ease display,
Like blackening clouds in stormy sky,
Where fiercely vivid lightnings play.
Thus when souls' energy is dead,
When sorrow dims each earthly view,
When every fairy hope is fled,
We bid ungrateful world adieu.
AUGUST, 1810.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: Happy Birth-Anniversary, Dear Mom!
This day, we know, you had your birth on earth
-A lovely, lucky day for all of us;
Your living memories give us intense mirth;
You turned our world of woes into mere bliss!
You strived to make the world a better place;
You made our lives worth living by your toil;
You labored hard, yet kept a pleasant face;
You feared your Lord and burnt the midnight oil!
You brought much cheer in people's lives around;
You changed our dreams into one joyous scene!
Your righteous ways saw all of us dumbfound;
Oh, what a charming person, you had been!
Each stage of life, you had performed so well;
The angels in heaven will surely tell!
Most lovingly dedicated to our dear beloved mother,
(Late) Mrs. Stella Antoniswami on her birth anniversary today
By her living, longing and ever-loving children!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gold and Love for Dearie
Out on the mountain over the town,
All night long, all night long,
The trolls go up and the trolls go down,
Bearing their packs and singing a song;
And this is the song the hill-folk croon,
As they trudge in the light of the misty moon--
This is ever their dolorous tune:
'Gold, gold! ever more gold--
Bright red gold for dearie!'
Deep in the hill a father delves
All night long, all night long;
None but the peering, furtive elves
Sees his toil and hears his song;
Merrily ever the cavern rings
As merrily ever his pick he swings,
And merrily ever this song he sings:
'Gold, gold! ever more gold--
Bright red gold for dearie!'
Mother is rocking thy lowly bed
All night long, all night long,
Happy to smooth thy curly head,
To hold thy hand and to sing her song:
'T is not of the hill-folk dwarfed and old,
Nor the song of thy father, stanch and bold,
And the burthen it beareth is not of gold:
But it 's 'Love, love! nothing but love--
Mother's love for dearie!'
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Belong To Him
Roy sings backing vocals
Jessie coulter
A thousand ways, a thousand days
The song of the world haunts a memory
I played my part, it broke my heart
But on the mend, I found a friend
I belong to him, I belong to him
Oh hell sing a song, Ill even drive along
Cos the songs I hear are from forever
Another day, another way we both sing together
I belong to him, I belong to him
Take my hand, and lets hold his hand, lets stand together
I wash his feet as I wash your feet, lets all sing together
I belong to him, I belong to him
I belong to him, I belong to him
I belong to him, I belong to him
I belong to him, I belong to him...
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Charming World
Enter in this world's case
And in this winning place
And try to learn the art
To push this charming cart
With fun and joy and hope
To sway away the mope
For life has some dull sights
And also few scenes bright
And know that in this way
Life shows shades of blue and gray
And sometimes also colours right
Makes this charming world bright
Where water flows and sun shines
And flower blooms to spread joy's wine
So we can all spend hours of leisure
with lots of joy, happiness and pleasure
So enter charmly in world's case
And win smile and cheer in this place.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cornish Lullaby
Out on the mountain over the town,
All night long, all night long,
The trolls go up and the trolls go down,
Bearing their packs and crooning a song;
And this is the song the hill-folk croon,
As they trudge in the light of the misty moon,--
This is ever their dolorous tune:
"Gold, gold! ever more gold,--
Bright red gold for dearie!"
Deep in the hill the yeoman delves
All night long, all night long;
None but the peering, furtive elves
See his toil and hear his song;
Merrily ever the cavern rings
As merrily ever his pick he swings,
And merrily ever this song he sings:
"Gold, gold! ever more gold,--
Bright red gold for dearie!"
Mother is rocking thy lowly bed
All night long, all night long,
Happy to smooth thy curly head
And to hold thy hand and to sing her song;
'T is not of the hill-folk, dwarfed and old,
Nor the song of the yeoman, stanch and bold,
And the burden it beareth is not of gold;
But it's "Love, love!--nothing but love,--
Mother's love for dearie!"
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Merrily, merrily shall I live now, under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
William Shakespeare in The Tempest
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Blossom
Without anyone to love you
What will you blossom into?
Without anyone to hold you
How will you grow?
And in the Wildwood trees
The wild wind blows
And the nighttime crushes the hurricane rose
And with no one to care for you
Who knows
Blossom for me rose
You're the picture of my love
Blossom for me rose
Stretch out underneath the stars
And when tomorrow comes
I will hold you up
Little blossom, shining in the sun
Without any place to go to
How will your soul return to
Without anyone to keep you
Where will you go
And in the shadows of the past
Where you're spinning so fast
It's hard to see it coming
And it never lasts
And with nothing to judge your life by
How will you know
Blossom for me rose
You're the picture of my life
Blossom for me rose
Stretch out underneath the stars
And when tomorrow comes
I will hold you up
Little blossom, shining in the sun
Without anyone to love you
What will you blossom into
Without anyone to hold you
How will you grow
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Magic Ring
I need your blue eyes starring at me like elves
Do you love me just a little?
Running through the bogs
Hearing the ships and their fog horns
Your hair like a sea of love
Your face like the breath of stars
Dream tonight of a rose as red as Christmas
A rose I hand to you with a magic ring
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Baby and the Rose
A rose tree grew by the garden wall,
And its highest blossom was just as tall
As my baby's curly head;
A lovely, fragrant, perfect rose,-
But sweeter from head to dimpled toes,
Was the baby I fondly led.
Now summer is over and winter gone,
And the winds of March are whistling on
Where the rose its petals shed;
No trace of rose perfumed and rare,
No baby face as seraph fair,
My baby sweet is dead.
The summer sun will shine again,
And 'neath the pattering, warm June rain,
Again the rose will bloom,
And so beyond these lowering skies
My baby dear, with smiling eyes,
Shall peer through earthly gloom,
And guide me with her angel hand
Through Heaven's gates,-and with me stand
Away from worldly woes,-
Where Heaven's flowers, divinely sweet,
Soften the path for weary feet
With perfume of the rose.
poem by Ida McCormick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Happy Soul
the happy soul thrives upon its own solitude
feeds upon its happy moments
and looks forward to the happiness
of the other days
it does not think about you and does not listen
to your woes
it has its own rhythm and rhyme
it feels the songs of the wind
it sees the colors of the sphere
layer upon layer it understands
the wisdom of the season
it smells the perfume of the red roses
it dances with the trees
and feels the cool comfort of the grass
it relates to the journey of the rivers
it knows the home of the birds
the words of the worms
the fullness of the beautiful foams
it knows where to rest its weariness
it sleeps and dreams
it does not even care if this world
speaks about an end
there is only bliss there is always nothing to miss
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The City Children
Around the city places are particular children
Wandering like cruel expenses during the day,
And only in the night do children sleep in the city,
But the city does not turn off its lights in the deep night.
When do they spin the cars and race in the city?
In the night the children play as if wondering,
When they wonder the lights go out.
What does the mission entail?
A commencement of hostilities, a burning desire,
One of alacrity and higher purpose than any older person.
Those wise men in the whole city rely on the night
To quell the minds of the young, the young who might bite.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tale of Three Cities
New York blasted London blasted
Singapore -
Ripped off each other's metaphoric balls,
Crumbling walls.
Priapic city monoliths -
Blue-sky scraping bastards -
Shout about their height (but really length) .
V8 arseholes didn't care -
Pumping shit into the air,
So long as they were always there to
Fart aloud a smoggy cloud,
Laughing at the weak asthmatic,
Humoured that it seems traumatic.
Watch the greedy cities oozing
Chair-bound fat committees, though they
Look a bunch of titties as they
Waffle on about the pound.
Ever thought to look around and see
That they were dead?
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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London
CRUEL City, London, London,
Where, duped slaves of devils' creeds,
Men and women desperate, undone,
Dream such dreams, and do such deeds:
London, London, cruel city,
By day serpent, by night vampire —
God, in thy great pity, pity,
Give us light — though it be fire!
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Retirement
O, let me be alone a while,
No human form is nigh.
And may I sing and muse aloud,
No mortal ear is by.
Away! ye dreams of earthly bliss,
Ye earthly cares begone:
Depart! ye restless wandering thoughts,
And let me be alone!
One hour, my spirit, stretch thy wings,
And quit this joyless sod,
Bask in the sunshine of the sky,
And be alone with God!
poem by Anne Brontë
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Runic Verses
O the force of Runic verses,
O the mighty strength of song
Cannot baffle all the curses
Which to mortal state belong.
Slaughter’d chiefs, that buried under
Heaps of marble, long have lain,
Song can rend your tomb asunder,
Give ye life and strength again.
When around his dying capture,
Fierce, the serpent draws his fold,
Song can make him, wild with rapture,
Straight uncoil, and bite the mould.
When from keep and battled tower,
Flames to heaven upward strain,
Song has o’er them greater power,
Than the vapours dropping rain.
It can quench the conflagration
Striding o’er the works of art;
But nor song nor incantation
Can appease love’s cruel smart.
O the force of Runic verses,
O the mighty strength of song
Cannot baffle all the curses
Which to mortal state belong.
poem by George Borrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Louise
OH, the poets may sing of their Lady Irenes,
And may rave in their rhymes about wonderful queens;
But I throw my poetical wings to the breeze,
And soar in a song to my Lady Louise.
A sweet little maid, who is dearer, I ween,
Than any fair duchess, or even a queen.
When speaking of her I can't plod in my prose,
For she's the wee lassie who gave me a rose.
Since poets, from seeing a lady's lip curled,
Have written fair verse that has sweetened the world;
Why, then, should not I give the space of an hour
To making a song in return for a flower?
I have found in my life — it has not been so long —
There are too few of flowers — too little of song.
So out of that blossom, this lay of mine grows,
For the dear little lady who gave me the rose.
I thank God for innocence, dearer than Art,
That lights on a by-way which leads to the heart,
And led by an impulse no less than divine,
Walks into the temple and sits at the shrine.
I would rather pluck daisies that grow in the wild,
Or take one simple rose from the hand of a child,
Than to breathe the rich fragrance of flowers that bide
In the gardens of luxury, passion, and pride.
I know not, my wee one, how came you to know
Which way to my heart was the right way to go;
Unless in your purity, soul-clean and dear,
God whispers his messages into your ear.
You have now had my song, let me end with a prayer
That your life may be always sweet, happy, and fair;
That your joys may be many, and absent your woes,
O dear little lady who gave me the rose!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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First rose
A heart of youthful year was yearning,
Crying out the pain; the burning
Tears would e’er remain until
An answer from the man would see them die.
A sympathetic mirror blessed her –
Softened up the curves, caressed her
Skin to help regain a calm –
Assuage a heaving breast and blushing eye.
And through a struggling mind, a chiming:
Someone at the door; the timing
Perfect and exquisite in the
Reconciliation of her woes.
She took the oak to make the parting,
‘Here! ’ a presentation startling.
Drawing deep through radiant lips, she
Kissed her very dream: a crimson rose.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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