Toreador
Pepita queen of Venice
When you go beneath your shutter
All gondoliers call out:
Watch out--Toreador!
No one rules your heart
In the grand palace where you sleep
And near you the old duenna lies in waiting
for the Toreador.
Toreador, bravest of the brave
When in Piazza San Marco
The wild, slobbering bull
Falls slain by your blade
It is not pride that caresses
Your heart beneath your golden cape
It is for a young goddess
That your passion burns, toreador.
(refrain)
Lovely Spanish girl
In your gondola
Dancing and prancing
Carmencita
Under your mantilla
Sparkling eyes
Shining mouth
That's Pepita
Tomorrow is St. Escurio's Day,
With its combat to the death
The canal is full of sails
Celebrating the Toreador
More than one Venetian beauty
Trembles to know your fate
But you despise all their laces—you suffer—
Toreador.
Since not seeing her appear
Hidden behind an orange tree,
Pepita alone at her window
You think about vengeance.
Under your caftan slips your dagger
Jealousy gnaws at your heart
And alone with the noise of the waves
You weep toreador.
So many horsemen! so great a crowd!
Filling the arena to its limits
From a hundred leagues people keep coming
To cheer you—Toreador!
And so he enters the arena
With more composure than a lord
But he can scarcely walk, the poor
Toreador.
His gloomy dream contains no more
Than to die before the eyes of all
As he feels the piercing of those horns
Within his sad, troubled brow
He sees Pepita sitting there,
Offering her gaze and her body
To the oldest doge of Venice
Laughing at the toreador.
poem by Jean Cocteau
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Gil, the Toreador
THE QUEEN sat in her balcony,
The Loveliest of Spain;
Beneath rode all the chivalry,
And roses fell like rain
To crown the gallant gentlemen
The gonfalon who bore:
A woman’s favor fell for one,—
Gil, the Toreador.
Beneath the royal canopy,
To see the red bull slain,
They sat, like loyal lovers,
The King and Queen of Spain.
Came marshal, noble, knight and squire,
Chulo and picador:
Of all a woman saw but one,—
Gil, the Toreador.
The trumpets clanged, the sport was on,
The royal sport of Spain;
Maddened by shouts and thrust of lance
The bull now charged amain:
Down to their death went chulos then,
And many a matador:—
A woman only knew there fell
Gil, the Toreador.
When through the streets of proud Madrid
Swept next the courtly train,
Sat not upon her balcony
The Loveliest of Spain.
Long live the King and his fair Queen,
Still loyal thousands roar:—
None know what woman died when fell
Gil, the Toreador.
poem by Charles Harper Webb
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Bull Fighting
Bullfighting
Early morning on the flatland between Portugal and Seville a cockerel crews,
its hoarse wakeup call carries for miles. Vaqueros are already on the grassland
separating bulls form a herd; the bulls are five years old and have been chosen
for the bullfight. Within a week the selected bulls will be dead, slaughtered on
an arena of sawdust and sand, they have been allowed to roam free for years.
Most animals only live a few years, mostly in a pen, and never see grassland
before they are killed. How can meat eaters demonstrate, call for the abolition
of bullfighting? This sport, the only one, where an animal has a chance to kill its
assassin. I’m on a bus heading for Seville to see bullfighting, yes, I do admire bull
fighting; if lucky I might see one of the chosen bulls kills the toreador.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The White Bull
Ev'ry dusk eye in Madrid,
Flash'd blue 'neath its lid;
As the cry and the clamour ran round,
'The king has been crown'd!
And the brow of his bride has been bound
With the crown of a queen!'
And between
Te Deum and salvo, the roar
Of the crowd in the square,
Shook tower and bastion and door,
And the marble of altar and floor;
And high in the air,
The wreaths of the incense were driven
To and fro, as are riven
The leaves of a lily, and cast
By the jubilant shout of the blast
To and fro, to and fro,
And they fell in the chancel and nave,
As the lily falls back on the wave,
And trembl'd and faded and died,
As the white petals tremble and shiver,
And fade in the tide
Of the jewel dark breast of the river.
'Ho, gossips, the wonderful news!
I have worn two holes in my shoes,
With the race I have run;
And, like an old grape in the sun,
I am shrivell'd with drought, for I ran
Like an antelope rather than man.
Our King is a king of Spaniards indeed,
And he loves to see the bold bull bleed;
And the Queen is a queen, by the saints right fit,
In half of the Spanish throne to sit;
Tho' blue her eyes and wanly fair,
Her cheek, and her neck, and her flaxen hair;
For free and full--
She can laugh as she watches the staggering bull;
And tap on the jewels of her fan,
While horse and man,
Reel on in a ruby rain of gore;
And pout her lip at the Toreador;
And fling a jest
If he leave the fight with unsullied vest,
No crack on his skin,
Where the bull's sharp horn has entered in.
Caramba, gossips, I would not be king,
And rule and reign
Over wine-shop, and palace, and all broad Spain,
If under my wing--
I had not a mate who could joy to the full,
In the gallant death of a man or a bull!'
'What is the news
That has worn two holes in my Saints'-day shoes,
And parch'd me so with heat and speed,
That a skin of wine down my throat must bleed?
Why this, there's a handsome Hidalgo at Court,
And half in sport,
He scour'd the country far and wide,
For a gift to pleasure the royal bride;
And on the broad plains of the Guadalquiver
He gave a pull--
To the jewell'd bridle and silken rein,
That made his stout horse rear and shiver;
For in the dusk reeds of the silver river--
Like the angry stars that redly fly
From the dark blue peaks of the midnight sky,
And smouldering lie,
Blood-red till they die
In the blistering ground--the eyes he saw
Of a bull without blemish, or speck, or flaw,
And a hide as white as a dead saint's soul--
With many a clinking of red pistole;
And draughts of sour wine from the herdsman's bowl,
He paid the full
Price in bright gold of the brave white bull.
'Comrades we all
From the pulpit tall
Have heard the fat friars say God has decreed
That the peasant shall sweat and the soldier shall bleed,
And Hidalgo and King
May righteously wring
Sweat and blood from us all, weak, strong, young and old,
And turn the tax into Treasury gold.
Well, the friar knows best,
Or why wear a cowl?
And a cord round his breast?
So why should we scowl?
The friar is learned and knows the mind,
From core to rind,
Of God, and the Virgin, and ev'ry saint
That a tongue can name or a brush can paint;
And I've heard him declare--
With a shout that shook all the birds in the air,
That two kinds of clay
Are used in God's Pottery every day.
The finest and best he puts in a mould
Of purest gold,
Stamped with the mark of His signet ring,
And He turns them out,
(While the angels shout)
The Pope and the priest, the Hidalgo and King!
And He gives them dominion full and just
O'er the creatures He kneads from the common dust,
And the clay, stamped with His proper sign,
Has right divine
To the sweat, and the blood and the bended knee
Of such, my gossips, as ye and me.
Who cares? Not I
Only let King and Hidalgo buy,
With the red pistoles
They wring from our sweltering bodies and souls,
Treasures as full
Of the worth of gold as the bold white bull!
'The Hidalgo rode back to the Court:
And to finish the sport,
When the King had been crowned,
And the flaxen hair of the bride had been bound,
With the crown of the Queen;
He took a huge necklace of plates of gold,
With rubies between;
And wound it threefold
Round the brute's broad neck, and with ruby ring
In its fire-puffed nostrils had it led
To the feet of the Queen as she sat by the King,
With the red crown set on her lily head;
And she said--
'Let the bull be led
To the floor
Of the arena: Proclaim,
In my name,
That the valliant and bold Toreador,
Who slays him shall pull
The rubies and gold from the gore
Of the bold white bull!'
'That is the news which I bear;
I heard it below in the square--
And to and fro,
I heard the voice blow
Of Pedro, the brawny young Toreador,
As he swore
By the tremulous light of the golden star
That quivers beneath the soft lid
Of Pilar,
Who sells tall lilies through fair Madrid;
He would wind six-fold
Round her neck, long, slender, round and full,
The rubies and gold
That three times rolled
Round the mighty breast of the bold white bull.
And loudly he sang,
While the wine cups rang,
'If I'm the bravest Toreador
In gallant, gay Madrid,
If thou hast got the brightest eye
That dances 'neath a lid;
If e'er of Andalusian wine
I drank a bottle full,
The gold, the rubies shall be thine
That deck the bold white bull.'
'Already a chorus rings out in the city,
A jubilant ditty,
And every guitar
Vibrates to the names of Pedro and Pilar;
And the strings and voices are soulless and dull
That sound not the name of the bold white bull!'
poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring
A spring wind on the Bowery,
Blowing the fluff of night shelters
Off bedraggled garments,
And agitating the gutters, that eject little spirals of vapor
Like lewd growths.
Bare-legged children stamp in the puddles, splashing each other,
One - with a choir-boy's face
Twits me as I pass…
The word, like a muddied drop,
Seems to roll over and not out of
The bowed lips,
Yet dewy red
And sweetly immature.
People sniff the air with an upward look -
Even the mite of a girl
Who never plays…
Her mother smiles at her
With eyes like vacant lots
Rimming vistas of mean streets
And endless washing days…
Yet with sun on the lines
And a drying breeze.
The old candy woman
Shivers in the young wind.
Her eyes - littered with memories
Like ancient garrets,
Or dusty unaired rooms where someone died -
Ask nothing of the spring.
But a pale pink dream
Trembles about this young girl's body,
Draping it like a glowing aura.
She gloats in a mirror
Over her gaudy hat,
With its flower God never thought of…
And the dream, unrestrained,
Floats about the loins of a soldier,
Where it quivers a moment,
Warming to a crimson
Like the scarf of a toreador…
But the delicate gossamer breaks at his contact
And recoils to her in strands of shattered rose.
poem by Lola Ridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Roses In Madrid
Roses, Senors, roses!
Love is subtly hid
In the fragrant roses,
Blown in gay Madrid.
Roses, Senors, roses!
Look, look, look, and see
Love hanging in the roses,
Like a golden bee!
Ha! ha! shake the roses--
Hold a palm below;
Shake him from the roses,
Catch the vagrant so!
High I toss the roses
From my brown palm up;
Like the wine that bubbles
From a golden cup.
Catch the roses, Senors,
Light on finger tips;
He who buys red roses,
Dreams of crimson lips!
Tinkle! my fresh roses,
With the rare dews wet;
Clink! my crisp, red roses,
Like a castanet!
Roses, Senors, roses,
Come, Hidalgo, buy!
Proudly wait my roses
For thy rose's eye
Be thy rose as stately
As a pacing deer;
Worthy are my roses
To burn behind her ear.
Ha I ha! I can see thee,
Where the fountains foam,
Twining my red roses
In her golden comb!
Roses, Donnas, roses,
None so fresh as mine,
Pluck'd at rose of morning
By our Lady's shrine.
Those that first I gather'd
Laid I at her feet,
That is why my roses
Still are fresh and sweet.
Roses, Donnas, roses!
Roses waxen fair!
Acolytes my roses,
Censing ladies' pray'r!
Roses, roses, roses!
Hear the tawny bull
Thund'ring in the circus--
Buy your arms full.
Roses by the dozen!
Roses by the score!
Pelt the victor with them--
Bull or Toreador!
poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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Skateaway
I seen a girl on a one way corridor
Stealing down a wrong way street
For all the world like an urban toreador
She had wheels on on her feet
Well the cars do the usual dances
Sames old cruise and the kerbside crawl
But the rollergirl shes taking chances
They just love to see her take them all
No fears alone at night shes sailing through the crowd
In her ears the phones are tight and the musics playing loud
Hallelujah here she comes queens rollerball
Enchante what can I say dont care at all
You know she used to have to wait around
She used to be the lonely one
But now that she can skate around town
Shes the only one
No fears alone at night shes sailing through the crowd
In her ears the phones are tight and the musics playing loud
She gets rock n roll a rock n roll station
And a rock n roll dream
Shes making movies on location
She dont know what it means
But the music make her wanna be the story
And the story was whatever was the song what it was
Rollergirl dont worry
D.j. play the movies all night long
She tortures taxi drivers just for fun
She like to read their lips
Says toro toro taxi see ya tomorrow my son
I swear she let a big truck graze her hip
She got her own world in the city
You cant intrude on her
She got her own world in the city
Cos the citys been so rude to her
Come slippin and a slidin
Lifes a rollerball
Slippin and a slidin
Skateaway thats all
Shala shalay hey hey skateaway
Shes singing shala shalay hey hey
Skateaway
song performed by by Dire Straits
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where the Wild Things Are
Max Records, Pepita Emmerichs, Max Pfeifer, Madeleine Greaves, Joshua Jay, Ryan Corr
from Where the Wild Things Are (2009)
Submitted by Alexandru Uvra
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Lovely One
Lovely one,
Just as on the cool stone
Of the spring, the water
Opens a wide flash of foam,
So is the smile of your face,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
With delicate hands and slender feet
Like a silver pony,
Walking, flower of the world,
Thus I see you,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
With a nest of copper entangled
On your head, a nest
The coloUr of dark honey
Where my heart burns and rests,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
Your eyes are too big for your face,
Your eyes are too big for the earth.
There are countries, there are rivers,
In your eyes,
My country is your eyes,
I walk through them,
They light the world
Through which I walk,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
Your breasts are like two loaves made
Of grainy earth and golden moon,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
Your waist,
My arm shaped it like a river when
It flowed a thousand years through your sweet body,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
There is nothing like your hips,
Perhaps earth has
In some hidden place
The curve and the fragrance of your body,
Perhaps in some place,
Lovely one.
Lovely one, my lovely one,
Your voice, your skin, your nails,
Lovely one, my lovely one,
Your being, your light, your shadow,
Lovely one,
All that is mine, lovely one,
All that is mine, my dear,
When you walk or rest,
When you sing or sleep,
When you suffer or dream,
Always,
When you are near or far,
Always,
You are mine, my lovely one,
Always.
poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dead Soldier
Where the sword has opened the way the man will follow
'Look! they came, the triumphant army!
Over yon hill see their weapons peeping!'
Still I spoke not but my wheel sent turning,
I closed my eyes for my heart was weeping,
My heart was weeping for a dead soldier.
Who is he who looks towards me?
''Tis no man but a gay flag flying.'
Red was his mouth and his white brow thoughtful,
Blue his eyes—how my soul is crying,
My soul is crying for a dead soldier.
'Kneel ye down, lest your eyes should dare them,
Kneel ye down and your beads be saying.'
'Lord, on their heads Thy wrath deliver,'
This is the prayer that my lips are praying,
My heart is praying for a dead soldier.
'Best cheer the path of the men victorious,
For he is dead and his blade lies broken,
His march is far where no aid can follow,
And for his people he left no token,
He left no token, the dead soldier.'
The way of the sword a man can follow,
See the young child with his gold hair gleaming.
When falls the oak must the acorn perish?
He lifts the blade and his eyes are dreaming,
He dreams the dream of the dead soldier.
poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Is All Around
RAP 1 & 3:
MY HEART STARTS BOOM, MY ARMS FEEL WEAK
MY HEAD IS EXPLODING EVERYDAY OF THE WEEK
I CAN' T EAT, I CAN' T SLEEP, 'CAUSE YOUR BODY'S SO SWEET
PUT YOUR HAND TO MY HEART, THEN YOU FEEL THE BEAT
YOUR THE WONDERFUL GIRL WITH THAT SEXUAL HEALING
WHEN I HOLD YOUR HAND, THEN I GET THIS FEELING
YOUR THE ONLY ONE, FEEL SO PROUD
SWEET, SWEET GIRL YOUR LOVE IS ALL AROUND
REFRAIN:
LOVE IS ALL AROUND , LOVE IS ALL AROUND
LOVE IS ALL AROUND
LOVE IS ALL AROUND , EVERYWHERE YOU LOOK
LOVE IS ALL AROUND
SEE IT IN THE EYES OF A MOTHER AND HER CHILD
SEE IT IN THE EYES OF A FRIEND
LOVE IS ALL AROUND , LOVE IS ALL AROUND
LOVE IS ALL AROUND
RAP 2:
I' M DANCING, AND I FEEL LIKE FLYING
THEN I SEE THIS GIRL, SHE IS CRYING
I TAKE HER IN MY ARMS, IT' S LIKE A DREAM
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL IN THE WORLD I'VE SEEN
LOOK UP TO ME, I SEE IT IN YOUR EYES
THE MOMENT OF TRUTH, NO MORE LIES
IT' S LOVE, LOVE AT THE FIRST SIGHT
LIKE HEAVEN ON EARTH, IT' S SHINING BRIGHT
REFRAIN:
LOVE IS ALL AROUND , LOVE IS ALL AROUND
LOVE IS ALL AROUND
LOVE IS ALL AROUND , EVERYWHERE YOU LOOK
LOVE IS ALL AROUND
SEE IT IN THE EYES OF A MOTHER AND HER CHILD
SEE IT IN THE EYES OF A FRIEND
LOVE IS ALL AROUND , LOVE IS ALL AROUND
LOVE IS ALL AROUND
song performed by by DJ Bobo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waiting... For My Dream Girl
Who is my Dream Girl?
Who is my Dream Girl?
Who is made just for me,
Who is only such girl made by Thee,
Who is no less than an angel,
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
The moon and the star
Bow down in honour,
Seeing the beauty marvel
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
The 'Goddess of Beauty'
Who is titled
In the Bible,
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
Not only for her gorgeous nature,
But also for her beautiful heart like a shinig mirror
Who is worshipped in temple
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
Who is as purified
As the innocence of a child
From mind nad body, heart and soul,
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
Who is innocent of anger
Whose sweet voice can never be heard louder,
In front of everyone who is always humble,
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
Whose eyes so resplendent
Express every feeling hidden,
Who is so much adorable
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
For whom I am the only one,
Who makes me feel like Heaven,
For whom I am so special,
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
For whom the courtesy strictly matters,
For her family, from the core of her heart, who cares,
Who can't be more liable
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
Who can distinguish very well between wrong and right
Who can be the most responsible wife,
The family remains at whose disposal
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
For whom I am the life,
For whom I survive,
Till my last breath, who is still loveable
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
Now let Fate, Luck and Time play the game of Love
For they will someday make me meet my Lady Dove,
And for whom I can wait for Time Eternal
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
poem by Akash Agrawal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Bulls-Hit
Pink rain fell on the matador's hat
As the bull she'd slain lay beneath her feet
Its mouth a gap its nostrils still flared
And its life and tearblood rushed from his splayed chest
No tears or words were used as slowly her blade was drawn from flesh
And when the spray of rain did cleanse the blood
The blade gleamed like cupid's cursed arrows
And the edges seemed sharper than its irony
She stood there with the bull's scarred heart lying out an offering
And slowly she turned claiming his death for her game
She is a matador and evasion is her game
The nearer came the bull the better fun for her
Till finally straight on he near caught her
Now he lays dead.
poem by Evan Histed
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lament for Atlantis
Mighty gods, O rulers of all beneath ye,
hear this lamentation I bear, that speaks of
fair Atlantis, place of my birthplace, lost now,
drowned by the ocean.
Lonely lies the land of Atlantis, lost now
under ocean. Once it was full of wonders,
once it was full of people and temples, drowned now
under the deep waves.
Drowned, she lies, lost under the ocean's broad reach;
once a queen, now draped in a corpse's wound sheet,
fair Atlantis lay as a pearl above all pearls,
above all known lands.
Once an empress over all lands, she lies drowned;
deep beneath the ocean she lies, she lies low
under endless waves while the years and the ages
pass like a swift wind.
No-one comes to comfort her, ease her sorrow.
All her friends have left her alone in sorrow,
all the lands have dealt with her treacherously,
left her unmourned, lorn.
Fair Atlantis lies in the ocean's deep breast
while the nations come no more, under dyed sails,
bring no gifts of gold or else costly cargoes
under the dyed sails.
All her temples lie in the ocean's deep breast,
all her festivals and sacred statues,
all her sacred slaves and her holy virgins
lie in its deep breast.
All her sacred groves, and her many fair fields
lie beneath the ocean; and all her cities
lie beneath the waves that ye caused to rise up,
drown it in one day.
All her enemies have become as great kings,
saying: 'Fair Atlantis is lost for all time,
let us rule the Earth while she lies destroyed, dead
under the deep waves.'
Fair Atlantis calls to her former fair friends:
'High I raised you, gave you the gifts of great lore,
yet you all exult in my sudden downfall,
strut like a vain cock.'
How the countries envy her glories, lost now
while beneath the ocean she lies, forlorn, lost,
when her people lived as do heroes god-blessed,
basking in glory.
When her people fell to the ocean waves,
how the countries mocked at her fall to harsh fate,
how the countries mocked at her, lost to deep waves
rolling above her.
Is her fate naught to the mighty nations?
Fair she rose and ruled, but now desolate, drowned
deep beneath waves, fallen from pride that whelms all,
which will befall them.
For my land, I weep with my bitter, bleak eyes,
for my birthplace, lost for all time, and drowned now.
Nothing heals my heart in its endless sorrow,
mourning my lost land.
See: her enemies have prevailed, are puffed proud;
see: her children wander the world, are scattered
over many lands, for her enemies rule
over all known lands.
Let the lands' pride lead to their needed downfall,
let them drown so deep in their insolent pride,
till the world is free from the taint of humans
lost to redemption.
poem by Phillip Ellis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beneath The Mask
Beneath the mask her wander lies
projecting an image for lovers eyes.
Such endless beauty my eyes behold,
under the mask she wears so bold
She hides behind her vain-full pride,
The twist and turn of storms inside.
She sits so still, so calm a girl
And guards with faith her hidden pearl.
Behold the mask covers her face
For between its cracks lies hidden grace
And beneath that mystic mask of wood
Lies secrets of a love so good
She needs to see through sudden glee
She needs not wear the mask for me.
In her glory I need to bask
For I love the girl who wear the mask.
Beneath the mask
There is a love and compassion
Inhibition and insecurities,
But there is also the girl I love
poem by C.F Francis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Heart Burns and Melts
My heart burns and melts with a pain and sickness
unlike this world has seen
for the tears and cries and pain and hurt of loved ones
my heart burns and melts with the ugliness which paints this world
a gloomy gray for the greed, violence, hate, and prejudice
which plaques our world
my heart burns and melts for the tired, hungry, weak, and poor
for the wars that slaughters billions and families
that are torn apart by lust and greed and jealously and hate
my heart burns and melts with a passion as strong as incense
as we live our lives in sin and vain without a care in the world
for the world we live in is cold as ice and the world is dark as pitch
for my heart burns and melts with a passion of pain and sadness
as my heart burns and melts like ice
for my heart burns and melts for the sick and needy of the world
for the broken hearts out there who need healing
for my heart burns and melts with a passion as strong as love itself
in hoping that one day the world will a happier place
enriched in golden bliss of happiness and peace on earth
for my heart burns with a passion for a dream
that's as sweet as love itself in all its beauty
poem by Brett Strotman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Congrats You're Beautiful
She walks in the room
Her nose in the air
All jaws drop
The guys just stare
Perfect complexion
A perfect smile
The spotlight's on her
But meanwhile
Her friend sits by unnoticed
By admiring eyes
But God sees more than make-up
He sees what's beneath
The outward disguise
The beauty outside
Sullied by pride
So fine
Congratulations:
You're beautiful
Full of yourself
Some friend you are
A cross on your neck
But hers on her heart
So golden now
Her friend sits by unnoticed
By admiring eyes
But God sees more than make-up
He sees what's beneath
The outward disguise
song performed by by New Found Glory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Queen Of My Heart
[Kian:]
So here we stand
In our secret place
With a sound of the crowd
So far away
And you take my hand
And it feels like home
We both understand
It's where we belong
[Bryan:]
So how do I say?
Do I say goodbye?
We both have our dreams
We both wanna fly
So let's take tonight
To carry us through
The lonely times
[CHORUS:]
[All:]
I'll always look back
As I walk away
This memory
Will last for eternity
And all of our tears
Will be lost in the rain
When I've found my way
Back to your arms again
But until that day
You know you are
The queen of my heart
[Bryan:]
Queen of my heart
[Shane:]
So let's take tonight
And never let go
While dancing we'll kiss
Like there's no tomorrow
As the stars sparkle down
Like a diamond ring
I'll treasure this moment
Till we meet again
[Mark: (All:)]
But no matter how far
(Matter how far)
Or where you may be
(Where you may be)
I just close my eyes
(I just close my eyes)
And you're in my dreams
And there you will be
Until we meet
[Repeat chorus twice]
[Shane: (All:)]
Oh yeah
You're the
Queen of my heart
(Of my heart)
No matter
How many years it takes
(Queen of my heart)
I'll give it all to you
Oh yeah
(Queen of my heart)
Oh yes you are
The queen of my heart
song performed by by Westlife from World Of Our Own
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dying Hour
I.
OH! watch me; watch me still
Thro' the long night's dreary hours,
Uphold by thy firm will
Worn Nature's sinking powers!
II.
While yet thy face is there
(The loose locks round it flying),
So young, and fresh, and fair,
I feel not I am dying!
III.
Stoop down, and kiss my brow!
The shadows round me closing
Warn me that dark and low
I soon shall be reposing.
IV.
But while those pitying eyes
Are bending thus above me,
In vain the death-dews rise,--
Thou dost regret and love me!
V.
Then watch me thro' the night,
Thro' my broken, fitful slumber;
By the pale lamp's sickly light
My dying moments number!
VI.
Thy fond and patient smile
Shall soothe my painful waking;
Thy voice shall cheer me while
The slow grey dawn is breaking!
VII.
The battle-slain, whose thirst
No kindly hand assuages,
Whose low faint farewells burst
Unheard, while combat rages,--
VIII.
The exiled, near whose bed
Some vision'd form seems weeping,
Whose steps shall never tread
The land where he lies sleeping,--
IX.
The drown'd, whose parting breath
Is caught by wild winds only,--
Theirs is the bitter death,
Beloved, for they die lonely!
X.
But thus, tho' rack'd, to lie,
Thou near, tho' full of sadness,
Leaves still, e'en while I die,
A lingering gleam of gladness!
XI.
I feel not half my pain
When to mine thy fond lip presses,--
I warm to life again
Beneath thy soft caresses!
XII.
Once more, oh! yet once more
Fling, fling thy white arms round me,
As oft in days of yore
Their gentle clasp hath bound me;
XIII.
And hold me to that breast
Which heaves so full with sorrow--
Who knows where I may rest
In the dark and blank to-morrow?
XIV.
Ah! weep not--it shall be
An after-thought to cheer thee,
That while mine eyes could see,
And while mine ears could hear thee--
XV.
Thy voice and smile were still
The spells on which I doated,
And thou, through good and ill,
To me and mine devoted!
XVI.
And calmly by my tomb,
When the low bright day declineth,
And athwart the cypress gloom
The mellow sunset shineth,--
XVII.
Thou'lt sit and think of Him,
Who, of Heaven's immortal splendour,
Had a dream on earth, though dim,
In thy love so pure and tender,--
XVIII.
Who scarcely feels thy touch,--
Whom thy voice can rouse no longer,--
But whose love on earth was such,
That only death was stronger.
XIX.
Yes, sit, but not in tears!
Thine eyes in faith uplifting,
From thy lot of changeful years,
To the Heaven where naught is shifting.
XX.
From this world, where all who love
Are doomed alike to sever,
To the glorious realms above,
Where they dwell in peace for ever!
XXI.
And then such hope shall beam
From the grave where I lie sleeping,
This bitter hour shall seem
Too vague and far for weeping--
XXII.
And grief--ah! hold me now!
My fluttering pulse is failing,--
The death-dews chill my brow,--
The morning light is paling!
XXIII.
I seek thy gaze in vain,--
Earth reels and fades before me;
I die!--but feel no pain,--
Thy sweet face shining o'er me!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In My Little Heart
In my little heart
lies joy and happiness
but beneath lies pain and tears.
My little heart oughts to forgive you
but what lies beneath oughts to hate you.
My little heart stores great stunts of pain
but it starts to fade away with great amount of tears.
Even greater amounts of love
ought to be hatred but what lies beneath refuses!
Slowly my heart breaks away only because
of the pain you caused to my little heart.
As little as it is you caused it
amounts of pain so big and huge but my heart was only little'
I may try to avoid the pain i feel
I may try to deny the tears i release
I may try to elaborate the situation i am in
But my heart is becoming so little
because a piece falls out every day!
My broken heart is not a little heart
It has now become a tiny heart
and one day maybe it will become that
huge, strong heart i always wished for....
poem by Vuyolwetu Sakwe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O! My little girl is gone!
To all the mothers who have lost their daughter/s.
O! My little girl is gone
O! My little girl, my heart is torn
From the day that she was born
Who knew so early she would be gone?
As the truth lays hidden beneath the sun
My heart constantly aches
While it lies fully awake
Daddy’s little girl full of hope,
Denied the chance to develop
Mummy’s little girl full of scope,
How can I, this distraught mum cope?
She walked the path of immense beauty
With this intense world in her little pocket
O! She was a little girl, a young pretty cutie
O! Her sweet memories, how can we forget?
And I can cry no more
Like I used to do before
Day and night I suffer in anguish
O! My little girl, my little young Miss
Day and night, you I can no longer kiss
I hope that in heaven her heart is at peace
Gone is my bundle of sweetness
And days of walking her to school
Gone is mother’s display of fondness
And days of fun with her in a pool
O! My little girl is gone
O! My little girl, my heart is torn
I think of all the things we could have done!
As a proud parental mother and a child
While life’s tide rolled in-shore mild or wild
Gone are the smiles and rosy cheeks
And her nice little mischievous tricks
As I sit there, ponder and begin to weep
Gone is the time she starts to read books!
And makes efforts to improve upon her looks
And I will miss all her little cuddles
And playing mud and splashing puddles
And I will miss her sweet voice
And all her loud playful noise
I ponder on what could have been
This no longer remains to be seen
O! My little girl, who knows the truth?
I shall think of you everyday by the hour
As my own priceless beautiful lost flower
And the favourite saying like mother, like daughter
Has forever lost its fertility to mature any further!
O! My little girl is gone!
O! My little girl is gone!
From the day that she was born
Who knew so early she would be gone?
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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