Before a Painting
I knew not who had wrought with skill so fine
What I beheld; nor by what laws of art
He had created life and love and heart
On canvas, from mere color, curve and line.
Silent I stood and made no move or sign;
Not with the crowd, but reverently apart;
Nor felt the power my rooted limbs to start,
But mutely gazed upon that face divine.
And over me the sense of beauty fell,
As music over a raptured listener to
The deep-voiced organ breathing out a hymn;
Or as on one who kneels, his beads to tell,
There falls the aureate glory filtered through
The windows in some old cathedral dim.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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Related quotes
A Music Eternal Is Divine!
Trumpet and drum music denote military band;
Guitar and piano music denote melodious score;
Clarinet and flute music denote pastoral melody;
Violin and all organ music denote symphony fine;
Jazz, maestro and symphony musics make all high!
Music acts as background for joy, sorrow and war;
Music makes all moods for man to move on in life;
Music creates a world of love, dream and fantasy;
Music as love has no beginning and end in influence;
Music whether East or West is divine as Nature is!
Confluence of Nature, music and dance is divine beauty
That elevates human spirit to divine spirit eternally!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Art
She stood a vision vestureless and fair,
Glowing the canvas with her orient grace:
A goddess grave she stood, with such a face
As in Elysium the immortals wear.
But some, unworthy, as they pondered there,
Cold to the marvel of her look divine—
Saw but a form undraped, in Beauty's shrine.
Then she, it seemed, rebuked them: "Old and
young
Have worshiped at the temple where I breathe,
And deathless laurels, for my sake, enwreathe
The brows of him from whose pure thought I
sprung:
Lips consecrate as yours his praise have sung,—
Who neither sued for praise nor courted ease,
But reverently wrought, as from his knees.
"No raiment can the base or mean reclaim,
And that which sacred is must sacred be,
Clothed but in rags or robed in modesty.
In the endeavor still is felt the aim:
The workman may by skill exalt his name,
But, toiling fault and failure to redeem,
Cannot create what's loftier than his dream!
"For chaste must be the soul that chastely sees,
The thought enlightened, and the insight sure
That separates the pure from the impure;
And who Earth's humblest faith from error frees,
Awakening ideal sympathies,
Uplifts the savage from his kindred sod;
Who shows him beauty speaks to him of God!"
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Accordance
He who with bold and skilful hand sweeps o'er
The organ-keys of some cathedral pile,
Flooding with music, vault, and nave, and aisle,
Though on his ear falls but a thunderous roar.
In the composer's lofty motive free,
Knows well that all that temple, vast and dim,
Thrills to its base with anthem, psalm, and hymn,
True to the changeless laws of harmony.
So he who on these clanging chords of life,
With firm, sweet touch plays the Great Master's score,
Of truth, and love, and duty, evermore,
Knows, too, that far beyond this roar and strife,
Though he may never hear, in the true time,
These notes must all accord in symphonies sublime.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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My Heart Was Filled With Your Words
The curtain rose on the stage, and I saw you standing there.
The lights above were shining down upon your ink black hair.
My heart proudly skipped a beat when you looked into my eyes,
and I felt myself tremble then for what I felt arise.
The women all about me were whispering sweet and low
of how much you looked like a prince within the stage-light glow.
I secretly smiled to myself, warmed by their devotion,
unseen in the shadowed curve that circled like the ocean.
I gazed upon you as the host introduced you by name.
I felt my temperature rise as though a heated flame.
Walking over to the mike, you quick-coughed to clear your throat.
All the room was silent then as you spoke the words you wrote.
paris elegy
by larry jaffe
her reflection
forever imprinted
in the looking glass
despite her leaving
for pigalle
he missed her terribly
they skated on
the thin ice of decadence
for so long it seemed
like second nature
to seek danger
in his safe autocratic fashion
nevertheless he denied nothing
and faced her empty mirror
every day his face in his hands
cushioning the blow of her loss
the seine no longer romantic hideaway
they tell me they see through your gossamer wings
and you cannot fly
The crazy winds of cheer and applause filtered through the room.
I was lost inside of love, the lull of passion in bloom.
You gave a bow and thanked the crowd, then waved your hands good-night.
You stepped off the stage and came to me to my heart's delight.
My breath was held inside of me like quiet little bells,
like the leaves floating on the face of deep and silent wells.
You placed your hand under my chin and looked into my eyes,
and I felt myself tremble then for what I felt arise.
My love was reaching out to you like hands across the Seine;
and all at once, I knew my wings would lift to fly again.
The night, the world, and two bright stars glisten over the sea.
It is the secret passageway we find in poetry.
poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell
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Me & My Broken Heart
Writer - hank williams
(f) we were waiting at the (c) church,
We watched and saw the wedding (g7) start,
As the (f) organ played, we (c) stood there and prayed,
Just (g7) me and my broken (c) heart.
Oh, (g7) cant you see what you have (c) done, (c7)
To (f) me, oh foolish foolish (c) pride, (c7)
(f) you brought tears and sorrow (c) to,
An (g7) untrue heart that never (c) cried.
I (g7) saw the sunshine of my (c) life, (c7)
Who (f) once I know just worshiped (c) me, (c7)
(f) standin by anothers (c) side,
And (g7) soon his bride shell (c) be.
(f) I bowed my head in grief and (c) shame,
As I felt the teardrops (g7) start,
But as the (f) organ played, we (c) stood there and prayed,
Just (g7) me and my broken (c) heart.
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winter in the Country
Sweet life! how lovely to be here
And feel the soft sea-laden breeze
Strike my flushed face, the spruce's fair
Free limbs to see, the lesser trees'
Bare hands to touch, the sparrow's cheep
To heed, and watch his nimble flight
Above the short brown grass asleep.
Love glorious in his friendly might,
Music that every heart could bless,
And thoughts of life serene, divine,
Beyond my power to express,
Crowd round this lifted heart of mine!
But oh! to leave this paradise
For the city's dirty basement room,
Where, beauty hidden from the eyes,
A table, bed, bureau, and broom
In corner set, two crippled chairs
All covered up with dust and grim
With hideousness and scars of years,
And gaslight burning weird and dim,
Will welcome me . . . And yet, and yet
This very wind, the winter birds
The glory of the soft sunset,
Come there to me in words.
poem by Claude McKay
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Ode To The Voices in the Wind
Voices in the wind so silent
But thou art so triumphant
With a divine hand you create sunlight
By the way you walk in the twilight
Darkness falls in a waterfall of sound
But in truth you never drowned
Hark the voice in the scarce crowd
Whom the voice is proud
Of the luck that commands your strife
Your treasures include a knife
You’re the shinning star of beauty
Others shone mutely
You seek a quiet room where life can roam
In a dress of pale silk you return home
Power, Providence and Prejudice you destroy all
Your strides bring Peace, Pleasure and Pride for those you call
Your home is a quiet place, a cottage on a riverbank
But then you’re a Goddess with no need for rank
You ride an ocean of clarity and beauty which is you
Like a queen you command a battalion, which is true
Thou art but a child, but your love diminishes war
A child and Goddess as one you will soar
I was told all this by one person more
A voice in a wind was all I saw.
There are voices in the wind said the God
But to your face all I could do was nod
poem by James Davies
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My Beauty
There’s are days when you just wanna feel like a beauty in everyone’s eyes. But there’s always a butt head to make you feel less then you are I believe if you think or know you are then you are. It’s only what you make of it. There are times when I don’t feel beauty at but I think of what I always told myself. “My beauty is not just a pretty face. The beauty I have is a brand new sent of peace. My beauty is lovely peace sense of laughing out loud. My beauty is like an oak wooden chair that my daddyand I love to sit and think in. My beauty is a graceful smile I give her everyday.
My beauty I have is a great sense of style that I have to show the world. My beauty is my fragrant smell of lavender on my skin and hair. Beauty that I want is a 5 star hotel that someday I will stay in when I’m famous. Beauty is my toned color of the skin on my body. My beauty slowly surely of love i feel for you.
Beauty is my sleek smooth skin of my true beauty is deep within me. Now I know the sign of beauty I was bless with.
poem by Evevona Plummer
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My Greatest Love
I first fell in love when I was young in grade school
With nature whose magic and beauty was all around
Like a butterfly to the flowers I was drawn
Oh, the joy I felt, the joy I felt, the purest I’ve ever found.
In high school, in my mid-teen, I fell in love
With a girl whose beauty could captivate all men
Thoughts of her filled my mind everyday, every night
Oh, the joy I felt, the joy I felt was heaven.
This love was intense, and music made it more so even
Love songs and music I search the radio through the nights
‘Till I discovered the classics, the symphonies of Beethoven
Oh, the joy I felt, the joy I felt was the ultimate pleasure.
In my late teen, after much reading, thinking; the human mind
The most mysterious, complex thing; I was awed and fell in love
I couldn’t imagine the infiniteness of its wonder and beauty
Oh, the joy I felt, the joy I felt must have come from above.
Soon all this led to my greatest love before I was twenty
Since then for decades, my mind, my thoughts it’s occupied
But where is the joy I must have reaped for loving this Humanity?
Why have I instead been getting pain, sorrow and bitterness?
poem by Leonard Sims
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The Innocent Louse
The louse can live its entire life
on the curve of a cat’s tail
boring tiny burrows
for homes and suburbs in the flesh
with a body and a system
made for sense
and perception of a world
made of nothing but long cat hair
cat skin, cat marrow and blood
living a life of curve and wave
and bristling burrowing luxury
breathing mere inches
from quick forelimbs with scratching nails
and pursed lips ready to press and taste
tongue salivating
a jaw made to press and spit
dead husks and rendered shadows
the mouth stained
dripping
with teeth
poem by by unknown author
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In Memory of a Happy Day in February
Blessed be Thou for all the joy
My soul has felt today!
O let its memory stay with me
And never pass away!
I was alone, for those I loved
Were far away from me,
The sun shone on the withered grass,
The wind blew fresh and free.
Was it the smile of early spring
That made my bosom glow?
'Twas sweet, but neither sun nor wind
Could raise my spirit so.
Was it some feeling of delight,
All vague and undefined?
No, 'twas a rapture deep and strong,
Expanding in the mind!
Was it a sanguine view of life
And all its transient bliss
A hope of bright prosperity?
O no, it was not this!
It was a glimpse of truth divine
Unto my spirit given
Illumined by a ray of light
That shone direct from heaven!
I felt there was a God on high
By whom all things were made.
I saw His wisdom and his power
In all his works displayed.
But most throughout the moral world
I saw his glory shine;
I saw His wisdom infinite,
His mercy all divine.
Deep secrets of his providence
In darkness long concealed
Were brought to my delighted eyes
And graciously revealed.
But while I wondered and adored
His wisdom so divine,
I did not tremble at his power,
I felt that God was mine.
I knew that my Redeemer lived,
I did not fear to die;
Full sure that I should rise again
To immortality.
I longed to view that bliss divine
Which eye hath never seen,
To see the glories of his face
Without the veil between.
poem by Anne Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Oyster Of My Heart
the love in my heart had a strange but long start.
just like an oyster starts off with a grain of sand
and others follow to give a helping hand.
so is the love that i have for you.
that grain of sand found a home where it could start to grow
and slowly it created one of the most beautiful treasures
that the world would get to know.
because it started out very slow.
the home that it was created in was a very hard shell
where it was protected until it grew big and strong
for it knew where it belonged.
and as it was opened by fellow man
there is where it took it's stand.
man opened it slowly with a knife
to protect what he knew he could find
a beauty so precius and so divine.
and with this one pearl of beauty and rarity
he put it with others for the world to see.
that just like an oyster-the love must slowly build
until the strength of it is quiet and still
this is the oyster of my heart of which
you are a very big part.
poem by Louis Rams
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Stafford Henry Northcote
Gentle in fibre, but of steadfast nerve
Still to do right though right won blame not praise,
And fallen on evil tongues and evil days
When men from plain straight duty twist and swerve,
And, born to nobly sway, ignobly serve,
Sliming their track to power through tortuous ways,
He felt, with that fine sense that ne'er betrays,
The line of moral beauty's not a curve.
But, proving wisdom folly, virtue vain,
He stretched his hands out to the other shore,
And was by kindred spirits beckoned o'er
Into the gloaming Land where setteth pain,
While we across the silent river strain
Idly our gaze, and find his form no more.
poem by Alfred Austin
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Contract In Love
written by Lamont Dozier, Janie Bradford, & Brian Holland
(c) 1962 Jobete Music Co., Inc. (ASCAP)
Baby, baby, sign my contract on love
Baby, baby, sign my contract on love
Baby, baby, sign my contract on love
Baby, baby, sign it
Sign it
Sign it
Sign it
You say you love me
And I believe it's true
But before I let myself go
Here's what you've got to do
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
You've got to sign
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
My contract on love
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
Write it in your heart
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
That you'll never do anything
To ever make us part
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
Yeah, I know it may seem strange to you
Yeah, but I've lost a love so many times before
Yeah, and now that I know the score
No one's gonna hurt me no more
And I'm takin' all my chances with romances
Yeah
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
So just sign
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
Right here on this dotted line
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
Where it says you'll be mine, all mine
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
Until the end of time
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
So come on, come on, come on, and
Sign, yeah
(Baby, baby, sign my contract on love)
Sign, yeah
(Baby, baby, sign my contract on love)
Sign, right here on this line
(Baby, baby, sign my contract on love)
Yeah
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
Sign, yeah
(Baby, baby, sign my contract on love)
Sign, yeah
(Baby, baby, sign my contract on love)
Sign my contract on love
(Baby, baby, sign my contract on love)
FADE
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just an Organ
It has been stated that the heart is just in organ.
But if it was just in organ why when a person falls in love they can feel that emotion in their heart.
If it was just an organ why when love is lost does the sadness that one feels seem to shatter the heart?
If the heart is just an organ why when a child wins a prize does a parent feel pride in their heart?
The heart is much more than just in organ it is the house of our emotions.
From the emotion of love, and sadness to the pride that swells in each of us.
The heart is not just an organ.
I Believe In the Power
I believe in the power of you.
As the rain falls upon us and
everyone else scatters.
I believe in the power of you.
As I look into the shadowy pools
of your mysterious eyes.
I believe in the power of you.
As I fall into your arms always
trusting you to catch me.
I believe in the power of you.
As you listen while I pour my
heart and I cry my eyes out to you.
I believe in the power of you.
As I sit and listen to your
words, your wisdom filtering your deep voice.
I believe in the power of you.
As I lay in your warm embrace
feeling protected and cherished.
I believe in the power of you.
As you turn away and walk out
the door, promising to come back.
I believe in the power of you.
As I sit waiting patiently
for some sign of you to return.
I believe in the power of you.
As even now I doubt all my
faith in the one person I truly love.
I believe in the power of you.
As I sit here crying and swearing
wishing you could hear me.
I believe in the power of you.
As I begin to lose passion for
everything I loved when I was with you.
I believe in the power of you.
As I lay dying in bed suffering
from a broken heart.
I believe in the power of you.
As I close my eyes and an
image of you forms in my mind.
I believe in the power of you.
As I begin to feel a rage that
is red hot and will not go away.
I believe in the power of myself.
As i see your true image; a true
image of who you are inside.
I believe in the power of myself.
As I begin to build my life up and
start doing the things I enjoy.
I believe in the power of myself.
As I understand the things that
were so illusive to me before.
I believe in the power of myself.
As I take back your control over
me and start living my life.
I believe in the power of myself.
As I no longer believe in the
power of you.
I believe in the power of myself.
As you and your power
no longer affects me.
I believe in the power of myself.
As I begin to love the one true
person I've forgotten in all of this
Me.
poem by Cleo A. Fletcher
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Silence (Part I)
Sometimes I see you as my child,
Sometimes I see you as my sweetheart,
And when I look into your eyes,
I see that tender and sweet smile,
And I want to say what’s in my heart,
And I want to tell you how I feel,
But my voice remains there, still,
And I just stare at your loving face,
And let the love from my heart,
Flow like a wild river in furious race,
to enfold your sweet and pure soul
with a sea of love and tenderness.
Sometimes there’s so much to say,
but nothing flows from my lips,
And only silence is there to stay,
And only the silence I should keep,
Because what I had to say was already said,
How words could express
never-ending love and tenderness?
How could I just say at one time,
I love you more than my own life?
And there remains the deep silence,
Silence and more silence,
to signal that divine presence,
of my silent love; my heart’s essence.
But this silence is not empty silence,
when divine love fills all my senses,
when nature’s beauty colours your soul,
and fades away all pity and woe.
Because when there is silence,
you can hear the silent language,
the heavenly music of my heart’s song,
God’s eternal music He’s been playing all along,
And in that silence you’ll hear my song,
The endless tune that my love sings,
with the sweetest notes in your luscious dreams,
which eternally flow like endless streams.
(2009)
poem by Roberto Echanes
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Tragedy
As he fell into a deep sleep
In his dream there she was
He handsome warrior of repute
Who would have thought?
That true love would bring him to his knees
So beautiful she was
She outshone all the stars in the sky
A girl any man would tare his heart for
She was bare foot walking on a lonesome beach
Her bosom white above the dark folds of her dress
Her burnish copper hair accentuating her heart shaped face
He watched her move
The sweet allure of her body
He knew he had to have her
He suffered though for he did not know where to find her
Every night she would come into his dreams
And each time he tried touching her when in an instant she was gone
Eaten up with this yearning for his love
He fell into a fever
Doctors and his servants fearing for his life
They wondered if she was real
Or of the depth of his soul
For him never to possess her in life
He was dying
His every organ ablaze with fever
His eyes like red hot coal in their sockets
His heart drumming against his chest
Awaiting his last breathe
poem by Persian Khushi
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Dedicatory
Beauty is One. But that so equal gold,
Run in the apt and kindly difference
Of each receptive and significant sense,
Configures to our many-minded mould.
Therefore, oh Love, though I no more behold
That sometime world where summer eloquence
I saw and spake, (adding nor time nor tense,
But singing forth the silent music old),
Yet walled in winter cities still sing I;
For conscious of thy beauty mere and whole,
The perfect unit of thy face and soul
(Thy face thy soul confest to mortal eye,
Thy soul thy face by new perceptions known),
Thy One becomes my Many. Take thine own.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Electrocuted By A Power Line
He was trying to do a good deed and he died.
A power line fell on a car and trapped the people inside.
He thought he could move the power line off the car and save them.
But when he touched it, it electrocuted him.
The people in the car survived.
But it's sad that that guy is no longer alive.
He wouldn't have tried to move the power line if he'd known.
If you ever see a power line that's down, leave it alone.
poem by Randy Johnson
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