Song of Nuns
O fly, my soul! what hangs upon
Thy drooping wings,
And weighs them down
With love of gaudy mortal things?
The Sun is now i' the east; each shade,
As he doth rise,
Is shorter made,
That earth may lessen to our eyes.
Oh, be not careless then and play
Until the star of peace
Hide all his beams in dark recess.
Poor pilgrims needs must lose their way
When all the shadows do increase.
poem by James Shirley
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A Hymn
O FLY, my Soul! What hangs upon
Thy drooping wings,
And weighs them down
With love of gaudy mortal things?
The Sun is now i' the east: each shade
As he doth rise
Is shorter made,
That earth may lessen to our eyes.
O be not careless then and play
Until the Star of Peace
Hide all his beams in dark recess!
Poor pilgrims needs must lose their way,
When all the shadows do increase.
poem by James Shirley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Solitude of Shade
Where the light is soft, I live in shade
in the corners of my mind where thought is made.
Where the temperature is cool, and my soul repose
my peace in the world one may suppose.
Under the shade my defects hide
and my imagination is my friend at my side.
Where love is truth
and intuition the sooth
of all that's to come
of all to be done.
The shade is my ambiance which determines my mood
where pensive thoughts lay and my loves gravely brood.
Lost in a world where people are gray
I hide from the world and it's shiny bright day.
In the shade is the place to be
where one can hide and freely see
the world around
where false is found
and the poor fool
is always crowned.
But to retire from the shade
and back into the light.
My thoughts whiter and fade
as I am back in sight…
The solitude of shade
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Sonnet 43: When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see
When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,
For all the day they view things unrespected;
But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,
And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed.
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow's form, form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!
How would, I say, mine eyes be blessèd made,
By looking on thee in the living day,
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!
All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Sonnet 43
When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,
For all the day they view things unrespected;
But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,
And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed.
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow's form form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!
How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made
By looking on thee in the living day,
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!
All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
poem by William Shakespeare from Sonnets (1609)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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A Waif
My soul is like a poor caged bird to-night,
Beating its wings against the prison bars,
Longing to reach the outer world of light,
And, all untrammelled, soar among the stars.
Wild, mighty thoughts struggle within my soul
For utterance. Great waves of passion roll
Through all my being. As the lightnings play
Through thunder clouds, so beams of blinding light
Flash for a moment on my darkened brain -
Quick, sudden, glaring beams, that fade wawy
And leave me in a darker, deeper night.
Oh, poet sould! that struggle all in vain
To live in peace and harmony with earth,
It cannot be! They must endure the pain
Of conscience and unacknoeledged worth,
Moving and dwelling with the common herd,
Whose highest thought has never strayed as far,
Or never strayed beyond the horizon's bar;
Whose narrow hearts and souls are never stirred
With keenest pleasures, or with sharpest pain;
Who rise and eat and sleep, and rise again,
Nor question why or wherefore. Men whose minds
Are never shaken by wild passion winds;
Women whose broadest, deepeat realm of thought
The bridal veil will cover.
Who see not
God's mighty work lying undone to-day, -
Work that a woman's hands can do as well,
Oh, soul of mine; better to live alway
In this tumultuous inward pain and strife,
Doing the work that in thy reach doth fall,
Weeping because thou canst not do it all;
Oh, better, my soul, in this unrest to dwell,
Than grovel as they grovel on through life.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Easter Hymn
Christ is risen and death subdued,
He hath hurled the conqueror down,
And the dark grave's solitude
Lighted from His glory-crown:
Called to His reward above,
See His gracious presence throw
Smiles of peace and words of love
On His followers here below.
Like a star-a sacred star,
Lo! He sits in brightness shrined,
Scattering beams of joy afar,
Beams of joy on all mankind-
Still in sorrow's darkest night,
And on trouble's restless sea,
Those benignant beams shall light,
And that star my guide shall be.
poem by John Bowring
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A Hymn for Christmas Day
Almighty Framer of the Skies!
O let our pure devotion rise,
Like Incense in thy Sight!
Wrapt in impenetrable Shade
The Texture of our Souls were made
Till thy Command gave light.
The Sun of Glory gleam'd the Ray,
Refin'd the Darkness into Day,
And bid the Vapours fly;
Impell'd by his eternal Love
He left his Palaces above
To cheer our gloomy Sky.
How shall we celebrate the day,
When God appeared in mortal clay,
The mark of worldly scorn;
When the Archangel's heavenly Lays,
Attempted the Redeemer's Praise
And hail'd Salvation's Morn!
A Humble Form the Godhead wore,
The Pains of Poverty he bore,
To gaudy Pomp unknown;
Tho' in a human walk he trod
Still was the Man Almighty God
In Glory all his own.
Despis'd, oppress'd, the Godhead bears
The Torments of this Vale of tears;
Nor bade his Vengeance rise;
He saw the Creatures he had made,
Revile his Power, his Peace invade;
He saw with Mercy's Eyes.
How shall we celebrate his Name,
Who groan'd beneath a Life of shame
In all Afflictions tried!
The Soul is raptured to concieve
A Truth, which Being must believe,
The God Eternal died.
My Soul exert thy Powers, adore,
Upon Devotion's plumage sar
To celebrate the Day;
The God from whom Creation sprung
Shall animate my grateful Tongue;
From him I'll catch the Lay!
poem by Thomas Chatterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sonnet V: It Is Most True
It is most true, that eyes are form'd to serve
The inward light; and that the heavenly part
Ought to be king, from whose rules who do swerve,
Rebles to Nature, strive for their own smart.
It is most true, what we call Cupid's dart,
An image is, which for ourselves we carve:
And, fools, adore in temple of hour heart,
Till that good God make Church and churchman starve.
True, that ture beauty virtue is indeed,
Whereof this beauty can be but a shade,
Which elements with mortal mixture breed:
True, that on earth we are but pilgrims made,
And should in soul up to our country move:
True, and yet true that I must Stella love.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Sonnet 5: It Is Most True
It is most true, that eyes are form'd to serve
The inward light; and that the heavenly part
Ought to be king, from whose rules who do swerve,
Rebles to Nature, strive for their own smart.
It is most true, what we call Cupid's dart,
An image is, which for ourselves we carve:
And, fools, adore in temple of hour heart,
Till that good God make Church and churchman starve.
True, that ture beauty virtue is indeed,
Whereof this beauty can be but a shade,
Which elements with mortal mixture breed:
True, that on earth we are but pilgrims made,
And should in soul up to our country move:
True, and yet true that I must Stella love.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Small Things Bother Me
He wore dark glasses I could not see his eyes
And the mirror to his soul he did disguise
He hid from the World his personality
Without the eyes a face you only see.
Perhaps his eyes from the bright sun he shade
The main reason why dark glasses are made
And though he lives nearby him I shall never get to know
As he wears dark glasses rain or sun shine or snow.
Any acknowledgement of me he never seems to show
And we pass each other by without saying hello
Through his dark glasses into my soul he peer
And he's still a stranger though to me he lives near.
Perhaps I'm small in ways and small things get to me
But it bothers me when others eyes I cannot see
Whether their eyes be blue, brown, green or grey who can say
As the mirror to their soul behind dark glasses hidden away.
I see him often though not every day
And his eyes behind dark glasses always hidden away
The mirror of his soul is well hidden from me,
Perhaps I'm small and small things bother me.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Sonnet 76: She Comes, And Straight Therewith
She comes, and straight therewith her shining twins do move
Their rays to me, who in her tedious absence lay
Benighted in cold woe; but now appears my day,
The only light of joy, the only warmth of love.
She comes with light and warmth, which like Aurora prove
Of gentle force, so that mine eyes dare gladly play
With such a rosy morn, whose beams most freshly gay
Scorch not, but only do dark chilling sprites remove.
But lo, while I do speak, it groweth noon with me,
Her flamy glist'ring lights increase with time and place;
My heart cries, Ah, it burns; mine eyes now dazzl'd be:
No wind, no shade can cool, what help then in my case,
But with short breath, long looks, staid feet and walking head,
Pray that my sun go down with meeker beams to bed.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Mortal Angel
In the fairest love, in the fairest night
An empyrean angel weeps honey tears on she,
A mortal angel, bathed in white
As sweet as affection an earth banshee
She portent an ominous death to come
To all that listen to all that believe
Some say to all, some say to some
But in ignorance they doth deceive
For all live forever in moral unity
In the soul we don't comprehend
The soul the banshee doth see
As death comes to apprehend
The mortal angel, bathed in white
To make her a star in the fairest night……..
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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The Blood Of The Poor
I rise early
And see in the east
In the morning
Find you surprisingly
A ball of crimson red
The blood of the poor and destitute
You must have drunk yesterday!
Was it easy, tasty and very cheap?
Or the blood of the rich is not red!
At twilight
In the far west
Again I see you deep red
Surely you have been fed
With the blood of the poor and the destitute
As a tricky delicate delicious food.
Still you are honorable!
Still you are worship able!
In the east
You rise
For the rich
If we put
Our demand
In front of you
Behind the cloud
You start to play hide and seek.
Willingly you have forgotten
Without keeping the promise
Going down to sleep
In the west
Like a thief
And become a perjure
Now it is cent percent sure
No one is in this world for the weak and the poor.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Coming Up
yeah IT'S A SNOW WHITE ORIGINAL MIX AND SHE'S FIXING ME
AND THE HEARTLESS THING SHE DOES IS EVERYTHING I LOVE
IT'S ALL I EVER NEED
yeah IT'S A SKIN TIGHT SENSATIONAL STRIP AND SHE'S TRIPPING ME
AND THE SHAMELESS WAY SHE TURNS...
IS ALL I EVER DREAM
YOU ASK ME WHY I USE IT
IT COULD BE JUST A WAY TO PASS THE TIME
I NEVER REALLY CHOOSE IT
IT'S JUST ANOTHER PLAY TO LOSE...
my mind...
yeah IT'S A BRIGHT LIGHT PROMOTIONAL TASTE AND SHE'S WASTING ME
AND THE TEARLESS TIME SHE BREAKS IS EVERYTIME I ACHE
IT'S ALL I EVER FEEL
YOU ASK ME WHY I NEED IT
IT'S MAYBE JUST A WAY TO PASS THE TIME
I NEVER REALLY MEAN IT
IT'S JUST ANOTHER PLAY TO LOSE...
my mind...
yeah IT'S A BIG NIGHT EMOTIONAL KILL AND SHE'S THRILLING ME
AND THE CARELESS WAY SHE HURTS...
IS ALL I EVER SCREAM
YOU ASK ME WHY I TAKE IT
IT COULD BE JUST A WAY TO PASS THE TIME
I NEVER REALLY MAKE IT
IT'S JUST ANOTHER PLAY TO LOSE...
I'M COMING UP IN THE DARK
AND EVERY PART OF ME IS BRUISED AND RAW AND PAINED
I'M COMING UP IN THE DARK
AND EVERY PART OF ME IS LOOSE AND SORE AND STAINED
AND SO I PLAY IT WHEN I USE IT IF I NEED IT THEN I TAKE IT
AND I PLAY IT ALL AGAIN...
AND THEN I HOLD YOU... SO COLD YOU... LIKE I KNOW YOU...
YEAH LIKE I ALWAYS KNOW AND LIKE I ALWAYS LOSE...
my mind... my mind...
yeah I PLAY IT WHEN I USE IT IF I NEED IT THEN I TAKE IT
AND I PLAY IT ALL AGAIN... AND THEN I HOLD YOU... SO COLD YOU...
LIKE I KNOW YOU...
yeah LIKE I ALWAYS KNOW AND LIKE I ALWAYS LOSE
yeah LIKE I ALWAYS LOSE
LIKE I ALWAYS LOSE...
MY MIND
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dark Hour
And now, when merry winds do blow,
And rain makes trees look fresh,
An overpowering staleness holds
This mortal flesh.
Though well I love to feel the rain,
And be by winds well blown --
The mystery of mortal life
Doth press me down.
And, In this mood, come now what will,
Shine Rainbow, Cuckoo call;
There is no thing in Heaven or Earth
Can lift my soul.
I know not where this state comes from --
No cause for grief I know;
The Earth around is fresh and green,
Flowers near me grow.
I sit between two fair rose trees;
Red roses on my right,
And on my left side roses are
A lovely white.
The little birds are full of joy,
Lambs bleating all the day;
The colt runs after the old mare,
And children play.
And still there comes this dark, dark hour --
Which is not borne of Care;
Into my heart it creeps before
I am aware.
poem by William Henry Davies
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Dont Be Careless Love
Burn the midnight lamp
Down until the dawn,
Ill keep watch until Im sure your coming home.
Shadows play and flicker on the bedroom wall
They turn into a bad dream overnight,
Something could be terribly wrong.
Dont be careless love,
Dont be careless love,
Dont be, dont be careless.
In my dream youre running nowhere
Every step youve taken turns to glue,
Walking down a spiral staircase
Failing through, failing through,
Dont be careless love,
Be careless love.
The lamp burns down and out
Im getting pretty tired of this,
I feel so bad something might be going amiss,
I wont be there so look out for yourself
Youre getting in deep whatever you do,
Dont let me go back to sleep,
Dont be careless love,
Dont be careless love,
Dont be, dont be careless.
Saw your face in the morning paper,
Saw your body rolled up in a rug
Chopped up into two little pieces
By some thug,
Dont be careless love,
Be careless love.
But in the morning light
When I wake up again
Youre by my side and thats the way its always been,
But in the dark your mind plays funny tricks on you,
Your mind plays funny tricks on you,
Your mind plays funny tricks on you,
Dont be careless love.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love's Season
Nay, never ask, beloved, oh, why so late?
Nor marvel I could see yet love thee not,
Love's secrets lie within the book of fate,
Uncyphered and untaught.
The self-same star shines in its lofty sphere,
The poet sees and sees a hundred times,
Before from silvery cloud emerging clear,
'Tis wooed in deathless rhymes.
The self-same melody, unseized, ignored,
May float for years in the composer's brain,
One day he careless strikes his harp's chord,
To find a godlike strain.
And countless suns rise o'er the summer sea,
Before that rosy glow the painter caught,
Transferred to canvas, for all time to be
The fadeless dawn of thought.
So soul by soul for years may dwell alone,
Yet side by side; no mortal tongue can tell
How word or smile or look doth make them one.
Therein love's miracle.
poem by Matilda Betham-Edwards from Good Words
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Dont Be Careless Love
(mccartney/macmanus)
Burn the midnight lamp
Down until the dawn
Ill keep watch
Until Im sure youre coming home
Shadows play
And flicker on the bedroom wall
They turn into a bad dream overnight
Something could be terribly wrong
Dont be careless love
Dont be careless love
Dont be, dont be careless
In my dream youre running nowhere
Every step youve taken turns to glue
Walking down a spiral staircase
Failing through, failing through
Dont be careless love
Be careless love
The lamp burns down and out
Im getting pretty tired of this
I feel so bad
Something might be going amiss
I wont be there
So look out for yourself
Youre getting in deep whatever you do
Dont let me go back to sleep
Dont be careless love
Dont be careless love
Dont be, dont be careless
Saw your face in the morning paper
Saw your body rolled up in a rug
Chopped up into two little pieces
By some thug
Dont be careless love
Be careless love
But in the morning light
When I wake up again
Youre by my side
And thats the way its always been
But in the dark
Your mind plays funny tricks on you
Your mind plays funny tricks on you
Your mind plays funny tricks on you
Dont be careless love
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Careless Love
Oh love, oh love, oh careless love,
Oh love, oh love, oh careless love.
Oh love, oh love, oh careless love,
Now now dont you see what your careless love has done.
Well you worried my mother till she died
And you caused my father to lose his mind.
Now damn you Im goin to shoot you, lord, Im gonna shoot you both right down,
Im gonna spare no one of you child till you spin next dyin.
Oh love, oh love, oh careless love.
Oh love, oh love, oh careless love.
Oh love, oh love, oh careless love
Oh lord, dont you see what, what your careless love has done.
Oh yeah.
Careless love now dont know see how you follow me down,
Careless love, dont you see how you follow me down.
Well, you robbed me out of my silver, lord, and out of my gold
Ever since you been a-ridin by side.
Oh love, oh love, oh careless,
Oh love, yes oh love, oh careless love.
Oh love, I said love, oh careless love now
Dont you see what your careless love has done, yeah.
song performed by by Janis Joplin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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True Feeling
Intimacy delightfully springs into my transforming soul
So simple I finally understand the friend thou be
Singly gently thy natural love to me thy dole;
Growing more confiding, more sweetly, in mine soul in me.
Thy assured look, which weighs thy affection
Measures me with the tyranny of intensity
Restless I bring thee close for thy protection
Listen to my heart beat for thee so passionately
Rapid, love doth increase, we close into one
Interchanging love by art delicate caress
Unraveling our souls, we come undone
Knowing true happiness, for happiness doth bless
One natural dream to possess a love so rare
As one we love, and one with life we both now bare.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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