The Well's Secret
I KNEW it all my boyhood: in a lonesome valley meadow,
Like a dryad's mirror hidden by the wood's dim arches near;
Its eye flashed back the sunshine, and grew dark and sad with shadow;
And I loved its truthful depths where every pebble lay so clear.
I scooped my hand and drank it, and watched the sensate quiver
Of the rippling rings of silver as the beads of crystal fell;
I pressed the richer grasses from its little trickling river,
Till at last I knew, as friends know, every secret of the well.
But one day I stood beside it on a sudden, unexpected,
When the sun had crossed the valley and a shadow hid the place;
And I looked in the dark water—saw my pallid cheek reflected—
And beside it, looking upward, met an evil reptile face:
Looking upward, furtive, startled at the silent, swift intrusion;
Then it darted toward the grasses, and I saw not where it fled;
But I knew its eyes were on me, and the old-time sweet illusion
Of the pure and perfect symbol I had cherished there was dead.
O, the pain to know the perjury of seeming truth that blesses!
My soul was seared like sin to see the falsehood of the place;
And the innocence that mocked me, while in dim unseen recesses
There were lurking fouler secrets than the furtive reptile face.
And since then,—O, why the burden?—when the joyous faces greet me,
With their eyes of limpid innocence, and words devoid of art,
I cannot trust their seeming, but must ask what eyes would meet me
Could I look in sudden silence at the secrets of the heart!
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Your Eyes
Youre not in control
when theres demands put on your heart
you dont even know
cause when its real you fall to hard
and yet even so
you try to play like nothings wrong
no you cant run away
there is no hiding place
cause you cant run from your heart
Chorus:
Your eyes they tell me secrets that you
you cant deny
your eyes they show me feelings that you
hold deep inside
how would I know the secrets
that you try to hide
cause when I look in your eyes
the truth is alive
I knew youd be mine
So now that its on
its time to face reality
its time to be strong
take on your insecurities
dont be afraid
youve gotta let your feelins flow
no you cant run away
there is no hiding place
youve gotta be true to your heart
Chorus
now that youre all turned out
dont you just love the way that it feels
yeah, yeah
Now you cant do without my love
and you know its for real
now why youd deny yourself
Id never, never, never understand
because I love you
and you love me too
and that just the way that it is yeah
Chorus (2 times)
your eyes, your eyes, your eyes
they tell me secrets that you keeps inside
your eyes, your eyes, your eyes
dont be afraid aint nowhere to hide
how would I know the secrets that you try to hide
cause when I look in your eyes the truth is alive
I knew youd be mine
song performed by by Xscape
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Adonis
The gods did love Adonis, and for this
He died, ere time had furrowed his young cheek.
For Aphrodité slew him with a kiss.
He sighed one sigh, as though he fain would speak
The name he loved, but that his breath grown weak
Died on his lips. So died the summer breeze;
And all the wood was hushed a minute's space,
Where I stood listening underneath the trees,
Until a wood--chat from her secret place
Chirped in an undertone, ``He is not dead,
Not dead, for lo! the bloom upon his face
Is ruddy as the newly--blossomed rose
Which even yet is woven round his head.
But sleep, more sweet than waking dream, doth close
The laughter of his eyes. He is not dead.''
Alone in that fair wood the livelong day
And through the silent night I watched him near.
But in the morning he was fled away,
When broke the dawn upon me cold and clear.
I looked within the thicket where he lay;
And lo! the sod, which he had pressed in death,
Was white with blossoms, scattered from the may,
Which made the thick air sweet with their sweet breath.
But he was gone; and I went o'er the heath,
Clutching, like one distraught, the dim air grey
With dawning,--for a voice encompassed me,
Crying, ``Fair boy, thy youth was but a span,
Yet did it circle in eternity.
Thy epic was accomplishèd. A man
Fills but the measure of his destiny,
And thine was all complete. Ere age began
To mar the royal palace of thy youth
With upper storeys of less perfect plan,
Death, kindly Death, filled with immortal ruth,
Took back the trowel from the builder's hand,
And wrote his `fecit' on thy work of truth.''
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Called Her In
I
He called her in from me and shut the door.
And she so loved the sunshine and the sky!--
She loved them even better yet than I
That ne'er knew dearth of them--my mother dead,
Nature had nursed me in her lap instead:
And I had grown a dark and eerie child
That rarely smiled,
Save when, shut all alone in grasses high,
Looking straight up in God's great lonesome sky
And coaxing Mother to smile back on me.
'Twas lying thus, this fair girl suddenly
Came to me, nestled in the fields beside
A pleasant-seeming home, with doorway wide--
The sunshine beating in upon the floor
Like golden rain.--
O sweet, sweet face above me, turn again
And leave me! I had cried, but that an ache
Within my throat so gripped it I could make
No sound but a thick sobbing. Cowering so,
I felt her light hand laid
Upon my hair--a touch that ne'er before
Had tamed me thus, all soothed and unafraid--
It seemed the touch the children used to know
When Christ was here, so dear it was--so dear,--
At once I loved her as the leaves love dew
In midmost summer when the days are new.
Barely an hour I knew her, yet a curl
Of silken sunshine did she clip for me
Out of the bright May-morning of her hair,
And bound and gave it to me laughingly,
And caught my hands and called me '_Little girl_,'
Tiptoeing, as she spoke, to kiss me there!
And I stood dazed and dumb for very stress
Of my great happiness.
She plucked me by the gown, nor saw how mean
The raiment--drew me with her everywhere:
Smothered her face in tufts of grasses green:
Put up her dainty hands and peeped between
Her fingers at the blossoms--crooned and talked
To them in strange, glad whispers, as we walked,--
Said _this_ one was her angel mother--_this_,
Her baby-sister--come back, for a kiss,
Clean from the Good-World!--smiled and kissed them, then
Closed her soft eyes and kissed them o'er again.
And so did she beguile me--so we played,--
She was the dazzling Shine--I, the dark Shade--
And we did mingle like to these, and thus,
Together, made
The perfect summer, pure and glorious.
So blent we, till a harsh voice broke upon
Our happiness.--She, startled as a fawn,
Cried, 'Oh, 'tis Father!'--all the blossoms gone
From out her cheeks as those from out her grasp.--
Harsher the voice came:--She could only gasp
Affrightedly, 'Good-bye!--good-bye! good-bye!'
And lo, I stood alone, with that harsh cry
Ringing a new and unknown sense of shame
Through soul and frame,
And, with wet eyes, repeating o'er and o'er,--
'He called her in from me and shut the door!'
II
He called her in from me and shut the door!
And I went wandering alone again--
So lonely--O so very lonely then,
I thought no little sallow star, alone
In all a world of twilight, e'er had known
Such utter loneliness. But that I wore
Above my heart that gleaming tress of hair
To lighten up the night of my despair,
I think I might have groped into my grave
Nor cared to wave
The ferns above it with a breath of prayer.
And how I hungered for the sweet, sweet face
That bent above me in my hiding-place
That day amid the grasses there beside
Her pleasant home!--'Her _pleasant_ home!' I sighed,
Remembering;--then shut my teeth and feigned
The harsh voice calling _me_,--then clinched my nails
So deeply in my palms, the sharp wounds pained,
And tossed my face toward heaven, as one who pales
In splendid martyrdom, with soul serene,
As near to God as high the guillotine.
And I had _envied_ her? Not that--O no!
But I had longed for some sweet haven so!--
Wherein the tempest-beaten heart might ride
Sometimes at peaceful anchor, and abide
Where those that loved me touched me with their hands,
And looked upon me with glad eyes, and slipped
Smooth fingers o'er my brow, and lulled the strands
Of my wild tresses, as they backward tipped
My yearning face and kissed it satisfied.
Then bitterly I murmured as before,--
'He called her in from me and shut the door!'
III
He called her in from me and shut the door!
After long struggling with my pride and pain--
A weary while it seemed, in which the more
I held myself from her, the greater fain
Was I to look upon her face again;--
At last--at last--half conscious where my feet
Were faring, I stood waist-deep in the sweet
Green grasses there where she
First came to me.--
The very blossoms she had plucked that day,
And, at her father's voice, had cast away,
Around me lay,
Still bright and blooming in these eyes of mine;
And as I gathered each one eagerly,
I pressed it to my lips and drank the wine
Her kisses left there for the honey-bee.
Then, after I had laid them with the tress
Of her bright hair with lingering tenderness,
I, turning, crept on to the hedge that bound
Her pleasant-seeming home--but all around
Was never sign of her!--The windows all
Were blinded; and I heard no rippling fall
Of her glad laugh, nor any harsh voice call;--
But clutching to the tangled grasses, caught
A sound as though a strong man bowed his head
And sobbed alone--unloved--uncomforted!--
And then straightway before
My tearless eyes, all vividly, was wrought
A vision that is with me evermore:--
A little girl that lies asleep, nor hears
Nor heeds not any voice nor fall of tears.--
And I sit singing o'er and o'er and o'er,--
'God called her in from him and shut the door!'
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Evil Eyes
Written by dennis deyoung
Lead vocals by dennis deyoung
Evil eyes
Stole my heart on a dark december night
Souls of flame
Loving her has made me half insane
The way she cast me
In her spell
Secrets I couldnt tell
Were for me
And for you
Once I knew
The joys of loving were for me and you
But now shes here
And with her secrets I know Ill have to bear
To let her take me
From your side
Rob me of all my pride
And my love
Oh sweet love
Evil eyes
Shes got those
Evil eyes
Though Im only her friend
I know Ill love her till the end
Of my life
Oh sweet life
Evil eyes
Shes got those
Evil eyes
Though Im only her friend
I know Ill love her till the end
Of my life
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death of Innocence
Far away from the demons and ghouls
Out of reach of those that trap the soul
In the sunlight, where all is safe
Where she can lay her head in peace
Here no harm dwells, here she is free
She is free to be who she was meant to be
Innocence, her hair down
Innocence, where no malice is found
Bright blue eyes, a welcoming smile
They make you want to stay awhile
Gentle hands that never hurt anyone
A heart that has no idea of the evil that is done
Her mind thinks of that which is only good
Not polluted by the curse of knowledge of evil and good
Her light summer dress floats in the breeze
The dream that we want to believe
But the Complication of simplification
Is simplification's prone to obliteration
Innocence, though she was meant to stay
Is too often torn away
Hark, who comes across the meadow
Who hath so many good things to endow?
Comes a knight in shining armour
Lucrative Gifts doth he bear
His familiar face allays her fear
His soothing voice calms her
Her closest friend, she draws near
A smile on her face, nothing to fear
His arms wrap around her slender form
Ever so slowly, their bodies now conform
He turns now and steps away
His back to her, in her place she stays
Till he turns around, his smile gone
Now a dagger in his hand
The flatter of a friend
The precursor of her bitter end
The lips she kissed are hard
A bolt of steel strikes her heart
Her white clothes now stain red
As now all her blood has bled
He looks her in the eye
And in a cold voice says goodbye
Her closest friend was her greatest enemy
God help us, it's too late to flee
Her eyes wide in shock
Innocence lost
Unexpected, her death, sudden and swift
The end of a life pure, sending the soul adrift
The questions she would never herself ask
Now come as she sees through his mask
Now under the guise of pretence
The death of Innocence.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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(We Have) No Secrets
We have no secrets
We tell each other everything
About the lovers in our past
And why they didn't last
We share a cast of characters from
A to Z
We know each other's fantasies
And though we know each other better
when we explore
Sometimes I wish
Often I wish
That I never knew some of those
secrets of yours
The water was cold
The beach was empty but for one
Now you were lying in the sun
Wanting and needing no one
Then some child came, you never
asked for her to come
She drank a pint of your rum
And later when you told me
You said she was a bore
Sometimes I wish
Oft times I wish
That I never, never knew
Some of those secrets of yours
In the name of honesty, in the name
of what is fair
You always answer my questions
but they don't always answer my
prayers
And though I know you say that it's
me that you adore
Sometimes I wish
Often I wish
That I never, never, never knew
Some of those secrets of yours
Some of those secrets of yours
Some of those secrets of yours
We have no secrets
Telling each other most everything now
[email protected]
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Secrets
(carly simon)
We have no secrets
We tell each other everything
About the lovers in the past
And why they didn't last
We share a cast of characters from a to z
We know each others fantasies
And though we know each other better when we explore
Sometimes i wish
Often i wish
That i never knew some of those secrets of yours
The water was cold
The beach was empty but for one
Now you were lying in the sun
Wanting and needing no-one
Then some child came, you never asked for her to come
She drank a pint of your rum
And later when you told me
You aid she was a bore
Sometimes i wish
Often i wish
That i never knew some of those secrets of yours
In the name of honesty, in the name of what is fair
You always answer my questions
But they don't always answer my prayers
And though i know you say that it's me that you adore
Sometimes i wish
Often i wish
That i never, never, never knew
Some of those secrets of yours
Some of those secrets of yours
Some of those secrets of yours
We have no secrets
Telling each other most everything now
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Error And Loss
Upon an eve I sat me down and wept,
Because the world to me seemed nowise good;
Still autumn was it, & the meadows slept,
The misty hills dreamed, and the silent wood
Seemed listening to the sorrow of my mood:
I knew not if the earth with me did grieve,
Or if it mocked my grief that bitter eve.
Then ’twixt my tears a maiden did I see,
Who drew anigh me on the leaf-strewn grass,
Then stood and gazed upon me pitifully
With grief-worn eyes, until my woe did pass
From me to her, and tearless now I was,
And she mid tears was asking me of one
She long had sought unaided and alone.
I knew not of him, and she turned away
Into the dark wood, and my own great pain
Still held me there, till dark had slain the day,
And perished at the grey dawn’s hand again;
Then from the wood a voice cried: “Ah, in vain,
In vain I seek thee, O thou bitter-sweet!
In what lone land are set thy longed-for feet?”
Then I looked up, and lo, a man there came
From midst the trees, and stood regarding me
Until my tears were dried for very shame;
Then he cried out: “O mourner, where is she
Whom I have sought o’er every land and sea?
I love her and she loveth me, and still
We meet no more than green hill meeteth hill.”
With that he passed on sadly, and I knew
That these had met and missed in the dark night,
Blinded by blindness of the world untrue,
That hideth love and maketh wrong of right.
Then midst my pity for their lost delight,
Yet more with barren longing I grew weak,
Yet more I mourned that I had none to seek.
poem by William Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Laugh -- And A Moan
The brook that down the valley
So musically drips,
Flowed never half so brightly
As the light laugh from her lips.
Her face was like the lily,
Her heart was like the rose,
Her eyes were like a heaven
Where the sunlight always glows.
She trod the earth so lightly
Her feet touched not a thorn;
Her words wore all the brightness
Of a young life's happy morn.
Along her laughter rippled
The melody of joy;
She drank from every chalice,
And tasted no alloy.
Her life was all a laughter,
Her days were all a smile,
Her heart was pure and happy,
She knew not gloom nor guile.
She rested on the bosom
Of her mother, like a flower
That blooms far in a valley
Where no storm-clouds ever lower.
And -- 'Merry, merry, merry!'
Rang the bells of every hour,
And -- 'Happy, happy, happy!'
In her valley laughed the flower.
There was not a sign of shadow,
There was not a tear nor thorn,
And the sweet voice of her laughter
Filled with melody the morn.
* * * * *
Years passed -- 'twas long, long after,
And I saw a face at prayer;
There was not a sign of laughter,
There was every sign of care.
For the sunshine all had faded
From the valley and the flower,
And the once fair face was shaded
In life's lonely evening hour.
And the lips that smiled with laughter
In the valley of the morn,
In the valley of the evening
They were pale and sorrow-worn.
And I read the old, old lesson
In her face and in her tears,
While she sighed amid the shadows
Of the sunset of her years.
All the rippling streams of laughter
From our hearts and lips that flow,
Shall be frozen, cold years after,
Into icicles of woe.
poem by Abram Joseph Ryan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Was Tired
I saw her again-
brushing her hair
that fell like shiny feathers.
Her eyes had mocked
her solemn face
as though a dagger
has flashed behind her gaze.
She brushed her hair
that fell like shiny feathers
while her eyes had mocked her face.
Her lips do nothing but conceal
the pain that flows like river.
I grew tired watching at her
loneliness that often speaks forever.
I was tired-
so i turned away from the mirror.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As a World Would Have It
ALCESTIS
Shall I never make him look at me again?
I look at him, I look my life at him,
I tell him all I know the way to tell,
But there he stays the same.
Shall I never make him speak one word to me?
Shall I never make him say enough to show
My heart if he be glad? Be glad? … ah! God,
Why did they bring me back?
I wonder, if I go to him again,
If I take him by those two cold hands again,
Shall I get one look of him at last, or feel
One sign—or anything?
Or will he still sit there in the same way,
Without an answer for me from his lips,
Or from his eyes,—or even with a touch
Of his hand on my hand?…
“Will you look down this once—look down at me?
Speak once—and if you never speak again,
Tell me enough—tell me enough to make
Me know that you are glad!
“You are my King, and once my King would speak:
You were Admetus once, you loved me once:
Life was a dream of heaven for us once—
And has the dream gone by?
“Do I cling to shadows when I call you Life?
Do you love me still, or are the shadows all?
Or is it I that love you in the grave,
And you that mourn for me?
“If it be that, then do not mourn for me;
Be glad that I have loved you, and be King.
But if it be not that—if it be true …
Tell me if it be true!”
Then with a choking answer the King spoke;
But never touched his hand on hers, or fixed
His eyes on hers, or on the face of her:
“Yes, it is true,” he said.
“You are alive, and you are with me now;
And you are reaching up to me that I—
That I may take you—I that am a King—
I that was once a man."
So then she knew. She might have known before;
Truly, she thought, she must have known it long
Before: she must have known it when she came
From that great sleep of hers.
She knew the truth, but not yet all of it:
He loved her, but he would not let his eyes
Prove that he loved her; and he would not hold
His wife there in his arms.
So, like a slave, she waited at his knees,
And waited. She was not unhappy now.
She quivered, but she knew that he would speak
Again—and he did speak.
And while she felt the tremor of his words,
He told her all there was for him to tell;
And then he turned his face to meet her face,
That she might look at him.
She looked; and all her trust was in that look,
And all her faith was in it, and her love;
And when his answer to that look came back,
It flashed back through his tears.
So then she put her arms around his neck,
And kissed him on his forehead and his lips;
And there she clung, fast in his arms again,
Triumphant, with closed eyes.
At last, half whispering, she spoke once more:
“Why was it that you suffered for so long?
Why could you not believe me—trust in me?
Was I so strange as that?
“We suffer when we do not understand;
And you have suffered—you that love me now—
Because you are a man.… There is one thing
No man can understand.
“I would have given everything?—gone down
To Tartarus—to silence? Was it that?
I would have died? I would have let you live?—
And was it very strange?”
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dining-Room Tea
When you were there, and you, and you,
Happiness crowned the night; I too,
Laughing and looking, one of all,
I watched the quivering lamplight fall
On plate and flowers and pouring tea
And cup and cloth; and they and we
Flung all the dancing moments by
With jest and glitter. Lip and eye
Flashed on the glory, shone and cried,
Improvident, unmemoried;
And fitfully and like a flame
The light of laughter went and came.
Proud in their careless transience moved
The changing faces that I loved.
Till suddenly, and otherwhence,
I looked upon your innocence.
For lifted clear and still and strange
From the dark woven flow of change
Under a vast and starless sky
I saw the immortal moment lie.
One instant I, an instant, knew
As God knows all. And it and you
I, above Time, oh, blind! could see
In witless immortality.
I saw the marble cup; the tea,
Hung on the air, an amber stream;
I saw the fire's unglittering gleam,
The painted flame, the frozen smoke.
No more the flooding lamplight broke
On flying eyes and lips and hair;
But lay, but slept unbroken there,
On stiller flesh, and body breathless,
And lips and laughter stayed and deathless,
And words on which no silence grew.
Light was more alive than you.
For suddenly, and otherwhence,
I looked on your magnificence.
I saw the stillness and the light,
And you, august, immortal, white,
Holy and strange; and every glint
Posture and jest and thought and tint
Freed from the mask of transiency,
Triumphant in eternity,
Immote, immortal.
Dazed at length
Human eyes grew, mortal strength
Wearied; and Time began to creep.
Change closed about me like a sleep.
Light glinted on the eyes I loved.
The cup was filled. The bodies moved.
The drifting petal came to ground.
The laughter chimed its perfect round.
The broken syllable was ended.
And I, so certain and so friended,
How could I cloud, or how distress,
The heaven of your unconsciousness?
Or shake at Time's sufficient spell,
Stammering of lights unutterable?
The eternal holiness of you,
The timeless end, you never knew,
The peace that lay, the light that shone.
You never knew that I had gone
A million miles away, and stayed
A million years. The laughter played
Unbroken round me; and the jest
Flashed on. And we that knew the best
Down wonderful hours grew happier yet.
I sang at heart, and talked, and eat,
And lived from laugh to laugh, I too,
When you were there, and you, and you.
poem by Rupert Brooke
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Drop of a Feather
The dawn broke, tearing the dark shroud of gloom,
And lights turned on to greet another day,
Life taking its new course all around,
but in this room, life coming to an end!
No stir except the sound of faint breathing,
strangled hoarse within her feeble throat.
Walking over to the bed, I took her fragile hand,
and stroked it mildly in slow rhythm,
Smoothed the soft fleecy hair, lying dishevelled
that remained once so neatly combed.
I watched life gently slipping away,
The inevitable end to an eventful play!
Breaking all bounds, memories cascaded out,
and the mind changed into a river in spate,
Fondly surveyed her features and the face,
with a foreboding of never getting another chance.
Looked into the heart that held within,
an ocean of love that ebbed and swelled.
Words struggled to fly out from my lips,
Words never, ever said,
but took for granted that she knew.
I sensed the dampness on my cheeks,
and a lump forming within my throat.
This woman taught me once for all,
I could do what ever I set my mind to,
Who with wings out spread stood hovering,
Over her chicks when eagles swooped down.
Exhorted to brave daringly ahead,
through the dank and dark corridors of life
chasing the glimmer of light,
at the threshold of a brighter world.
Insisted on not to beguile the just,
But hold on to truth always.
I stood silent, my gaze fixed on the limp figure,
Now resting calmly on a propped up bed,
Her dried up bosom heaving high and low,
I knew her breath slowly dying down.
With a strained belch, she turned her head sideways,
With a sudden flutter, her sealed eyes were opened ajar.
Her benevolent eyes fixed on my face for once,
Did a smile fleet across that pallid face?
Oh! The eyeballs suddenly turned upwards,
And her mouth, slightly opened to let out the breath
She went noiselessly with so much ease,
like a feather, falling gently on the ground.
Vacantly I watched a solitary loon flying west ward,
and beyond the horizon it disappeared like a mote.
poem by Valsa George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Secret Joy
If it were not for you
It seems that every day would be
A life unfulfilled.
Winter then forever and no smile of spring.
An icy lake without a melted heart within.
You are my secret joy.
When first I saw your face
A satisfaction took the place of sad distraction.
I knew my mind had been in a phase of leaving,
You drew me back a pace, with you I saw commitment,
This time there could be no dreaming,
No time for grieving what was past.
My secret joy was here with me.
So many times, I saw her face in your face.
That special wisdom of her eyes in your eyes,
I knew a child I thought was gone for always
Had brought joy home.
I watch you watch the joy you have made
Wonder if you know the joy that you gave
Would like you to know that the joy that you made
Is my joy too.
However long before the joy that you made.
That little blue the two of you gave.
I had a little joy of my own.
Even though the joy that I made,
Has gone the road that life takes.
Singing love songs to the joys of her own,
I see reflections of the Joy that I made,
In the eyes and the heart of the Joy, she has made.
I can see pink joy reflected in blue joy,
When I see it.
My secret joy.
poem by Susan Casey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mirror
There I sighted the lonesome lass
a look of despair on her lifeless face
tears brimming in her gloomy eyes
her dark unkempt hair – a shade of sorrow
may be I had seen her somewhere before
as she looked at me with a knowing gaze
There was a deafening silence between us
I tried to speak but the words had frozen out
So I kept on staring at her –
- and She at Me
Her lamenting eyes seemed to whisper:
“ my bruised heart has been aching so long,
it cannot bear the pain any more…
it seeks solace, it seeks relief,
it’s withering away of endless grief! ”
I knew not how to console her
feeling just as helpless as she was
so donning a mask over the “real” Me
and a “made-up” smile on my face
I turned away from the mirror
and trudged along with the world’s brisk pace
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Danny Boy
The valley is hushed
The flowers are all dying
The meadow is white with the winter snow
Lord as I stand at the place where daddies lying
I say a silent prayer and somehow I know
He hears me there, though soft I tread above him
So now he sleeps in peace
His danny boys come home
................. the pipes the pipe are calling
From glen to glen and down the moutainside
The summers gone and all the leaves are falling
Its you, its you must go and I must bide
O come ye back when the sun shines on the meadow
Or when the valleys hushed and white with snow
For Ill be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh danny boy, oh danny boy I love you so
I close my eyes and still I can see
Him standing there on the hill
Tears filled his eyes as he waved goodbye to me
I cant forget, I guess I never will
He said, the valley is hushed
The flowers are all dying
The meadow is white with the winter snow
Come find the place
Where you know that Ill be lying
Say a silent prayer
So Ill know
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnets XLIX: L: LI: LII: Willowwood
I
I sat with Love upon a woodside well,
Leaning across the water, I and he;
Nor ever did he speak nor looked at me,
But touched his lute wherein was audible
The certain secret thing he had to tell:
Only our mirrored eyes met silently
In the low wave; and that sound came to be
The passionate voice I knew; and my tears fell.
And at their fall, his eyes beneath grew hers;
And with his foot and with his wing-feathers
He swept the spring that watered my heart's drouth.
Then the dark ripples spread to waving hair,
And as I stooped, her own lips rising there
Bubbled with brimming kisses at my mouth.
II
And now Love sang: but his was such a song,
So meshed with half-remembrance hard to free,
As souls disused in death's sterility
May sing when the new birthday tarries long.
And I was made aware of a dumb throng
That stood aloof, one form by every tree,
All mournful forms, for each was I or she,
The shades of those our days that had no tongue.
They looked on us, and knew us and were known;
While fast together, alive from the abyss,
Clung the soul-wrung implacable close kiss;
And pity of self through all made broken moan
Which said “For once, for once, for once alone!”
And still Love sang, and what he sang was this:—
III
“O Ye, all ye that walk in Willowwood,
That walk with hollow faces burning white;
What fathom-depth of soul-struck widowhood,
What long, what longer hours, one lifelong night,
Ere ye again, who so in vain have wooed
Your last hope lost, who so in vain invite
Your lips to that their unforgotten food,
Ere ye, ere ye again shall see the light!
Alas! the bitter banks in Willowwood,
With tear-spurge wan, with blood-wort burning red:
Alas! if ever such a pillow could
Steep deep the soul in sleep till she were dead,—
Better all life forget her than this thing,
That Willowwood should hold her wandering!”
IV
So sang he: and as meeting rose and rose
Together cling through the wind's wellaway
Nor change at once, yet near the end of day
The leaves drop loosened where the heart-stain glows,—
So when the song died did the kiss unclose;
And her face fell back drowned, and was as grey
As its grey eyes; and if it ever may
Meet mine again I know not if Love knows.
Only I know that I leaned low and drank
A long draught from the water where she sank,
Her breath and all her tears and all her soul:
And as I leaned, I know I felt Love's face
Pressed on my neck with moan of pity and grace,
Till both our heads were in his aureole.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Krishnakali
In the village they call her the dark girl
but to me she is the flower Krishnakali
On a cloudy day in a field
I saw the dark girl's dark gazelle-eyes.
She had no covering on her head,
her loose hair had fallen on her back.
Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelleeyes.
Two black cows were lowing,
as it grew dark under the heavy clouds.
So with anxious, hurried steps,
the dark girl came from her hut.
Raising her eyebrows toward the sky,
she listened a moment to the clouds' rumble.
Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelle-eyes.
A gust of the east wind
rippled the rice plants.
I was standing by a ridge,
alone in the field.
Whether or not she looked at me
Is known only to us two.
Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelle-eyes.
This how the Kohldark cloud
rises in the northeast in Jaistha;
the soft dark shadow
descends on the Tamal grove in Asharh;
and sudden delight floods the heart
in the night of Sravan.
Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelle-eyes.
To me she is the flower Krishnakali,
whatever she may be called by others.
In a field in Maynapara village
I saw the dark girl's dark gazelle-eyes.
She did not cover her head,
not having the time to feel embarrassed.
Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelle-eyes.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Wolf
That was a time for falling,
I knew you well.
There was no time for calling,
Me when you fell.
This is a time to take cover ,
In a wishing well.
Summer was blowing all over me when you fell,
Sailors can take all the breathing
Out of the sail,
I took a trip when you needed me.
When you fell,
Waters were driving me
To a deep place
I close my eyes to see,
Your sweet face,
A coke inside me,
I slept in hell.
Angels can be so deceiving
When they love you well,
Did you think you would be leaving me?
These are some lavender flowers
In a broken shell
They comfort me ever since the day when you fell.
When you fell,
Waters were dancing me
In a dark place,
I close my eyes to see
Your determined face,
My secret inside me
I slept in hell.
This is a time for believing
In fairy tales,
One in which you are brought back to me.
Wolf, I cried wolf.
Wolf, I cried wolf.
Wolf, I cried wolf.
song performed by by Veruca Salt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Snow White Transparent
“Mirror… Mirror…”
Snow White stops
Looks down at
Her hand
Perfectly pale
Unblemished
Young and
Innocent
But damned
So damned
The wicked
Woman knew
Smiled and knew
“This is what you want”
Hands her the
Apple, poisoned
And red
No one knew
That Snow White
Knew, knew
The Truth
No one
Suspects her
Not Snow White
Pure, perfect
Snow White
“Mirror… Mirror…”
A brush bristles
Through her hair
Snow White looks
At her reflection
In the Mirror
Her mirror
The Wicked
Woman’s mirror
Snow White’s
Image smiles
Sadly at her
No hope left
“On the wall…”
He comes in
Princely in
His ways
Snow White does
Not look at
Him, not at him
Oh no
She cannot
She resents him
It is not apples
That are poisoned
But lips
“Snow…? ”
Without words
She undresses
Revealing glorious
Pale body
His to touch
Snow White
Watches his hands
Lower and closes
Her eyes
This is not love
Love is not—
Love is
“Seven little men…”
She falls into the
Dark corners of
Her mind
Where poison
Still chokes her
And there is
Nothing but
Death and silence
Oh, for the silence
Snow White turns
To look at The Mirror
And asks:
“Who is fairest of them all? ”
poem by Elizabeth Rebel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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