Antiperistasis
ANTIPERISTASIS
Fused through finest fairy fission,
emerald, jasper, jade,
to nothingness soon fade.
High symbols of romance soon fade
beside volcanic fires displayed
in dancing eyes of fairest maid,
who is a most enchanting vision!
Lovely, angel apparation!
in grey-green woolen plaid,
and cape of light brown suede.
Soft phantom of delight, when laid
upon my sight, as I surveyed
perfection’s sweet façade
reminiscient of great Titian.
And should e’er in exhibition
your image be portrayed
in Florence, Sorbonne, Slade,
should ever this win accolade
it would be truth betrayed, -
pale imitation made
of all thats best in heaven!
My soul is bound, in prison.
Name hidden, homage paid,
For were my heart X rayed
or its sheathed sinews open laid,
by scalpel blade displayed, -
Could purity persuade?
Why this sudden disparatition?
Why has our trysting been repaid
by such a very brief fruition?
Please reply to my petition,
to clarify your opposition.
./.
These empty compliments, when paid,
put people in a false position,
ever appear an imposition.
To be my poor soul’s sole physician
was this your heart’s supreme ambition?
or, only angry at dismission,
you lampoon love in pasquinade?
Perhaps your reason, Sir, has strayed,
mazed by a misplaced supposition!
I never thought to craze, imprison,
heart elsewhere already given.
My goal it neither was, nor mission,
to daze your soul into submission, -
I sought a comrade, not a cade!
Imaginations may be swayed,
for Eros is a fly magician,
leading emotion’s ebullition
down, down to bottomless perdition,
like siren sweet, mermaid musician
rewarding passion with prodition.
Tis true, - you fantasies obeyed.
With time, all ardour tends to jade,
so rectify this biased vision!
I am no perfect acquisition
like Caesar’s wife, above suspicion!
Before you reach a wrong decision
distrust distorted intuition -
shun this charade, false masquerade!
Another my fair hand has prayed.
Although resenting inquisition
I’ve explained my evanition:
Do not dispute, please, this decision.
5 May 1979
robi03_0166_robi03_0000 XXX_LOX
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIII
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Convictions Conquer
New love's peak passion dreams soon seem to fade,
and step by step by custom are betrayed,
too few familiarity flee, greyed
is fragile fruit, once tempting, time decayed.
Is light too bright? Emotions unafraid
dissolve cares in shared energy displayed
day after day, night after night arrayed
as tent of gladness ever undismayed.
Take tenderness as touchstone, trust as blade,
with constancy to thwart both darkest shade
and ride self-centred, where pride hides self-made
defenses which should never be obeyed.
where soul to soul cleaves, where both man and maid
Love's courage clad convictions conquer all,
Hope heeds heart's call, can weather every squall.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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After Her Going
The after-even! Ah, did I walk,
Indeed, in her or even?
For nothing of me or around
But absent She did leaven,
Felt in my body as its soul,
And in my soul its heaven.
'Ah me! my very flesh turns soul,
Essenced,' I sighed, 'with bliss!'
And the blackbird held his lutany,
All fragrant-through with bliss;
And all things stilled were as a maid
Sweet with a single kiss.
For grief of perfect fairness, eve
Could nothing do but smile;
The time was far too perfect fair,
Being but for a while;
And ah, in me, too happy grief
Blinded herself with smile!
The sunset at its radiant heart
Had somewhat unconfest:
The bird was loath of speech, its song
Half-refluent on its breast,
And made melodious toyings with
A note or two at best.
And she was gone, my sole, my Fair,
Ah, sole my Fair, was gone!
Methinks, throughout the world 'twere right
I had been sad alone;
And yet, such sweet in all things' heart,
And such sweet in my own!
poem by Francis Thompson
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Old School Management 0123
Director D. described his drive
as 'urge to acquisition',
and so did nothing but contrive
to prop up his position:
his happiness would still derive
deferring all decision.
To drone as master of the hive
implies some sense of mission,
and so he primed his poisoned chive
with silent, spot precision,
colleagues who tried to look alive
were stifled by suspicion.
To toil four hours, sometimes five,
was felt an impositon,
for lunch, however, he'd arrive
poor corporate politician.
In order corpulence to shrive,
the firm paid his physician.
In idleness most do connive
lest one gain recognition,
invention rive, repress, don't strive,
in supine supposition
that someday something may arrive
to save them, superstition!
Without incentive we deprive
ourselvees of hope, of vision.
Enthusiasm some would stive,
there's no sin like commission!
Where dreams of grandeur we'd revive,
we'll overcome derision.
Tomorrow should stop Sterling's dive
as we shrug off submission
for no Industry can thrive
on inner dereliction,
with impulse, stong will to survive,
we'll break out date tradition!
(23 October 1976)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Dreaming's Art
He could see
that she loved him;
no, more like Idol Worship.
'You' she said
'are the Man of my Dreams
my Prince Charming.
Everything you touch
turns to gold
including me.
I laid down my heart for you
hand pressed my soul for you,
danced round your Maypole
like a young girl in spring.
You populated my every dream;
you in my eyes-
could do no wrong or harm-
you were my dreams' dream.
He: said:
I see now my dear
this was Dangerous Praise
and Deadly Love
at least for me.
I felt in love too
but more with your
image of me,
not as I really was.
And so as not to disappoint
I pretended to believe
the image of me
dancing in your eyes
but in doing so
I participated in
the subterfuge;
creating someone
who was only a facsimile
of the real me
who
then
went into hiding
dreading to be discovered.
To you I was your hero-
the one to up-end every wrong
and we
busily,
both of us,
constructed
white picket fences
in the blue, blue sky.
She:
'I believed you were my superman,
you said so too.'
He:
'I said so because you seemed
to need me to be that fantasy,
and I had no heart to disappoint
that precious dream
you had of me.
She:
'But you did disappoint because I began
to see
that you were not superman
or perfect even.
He:
'And that disappointment in your eyes
was too much for me.
Too much for me to bear.
In time
resentment came
because why should I
live to be another's dream
even the dream of the one I love?
And you too
were not perfection's dream
you too in time
were revealed to me
as merely a woman
a person, not perfect,
not a dream.'
She:
And there we stood the both of us
pouring hurt and harm
on each other as human beings
preferring to cling to our perfect
dream scheme;
even as we came to understand
Misplaced Dreams are not dreams at all
but potential nightmares.
She looked at him,
with her deep, sad eyes
saying:
'Do you think you could love me
if my beauty fades
if my breasts succumb to gravity;
if other women to you
siren call?
He said 'Could you still love me
if in morning light
my paunchy eyes
and thick waist
become pronounced
and lumpy high?
So these two in fading light
allowed themselves
to contemplate
Irony's Twists
and the struggle between
what our dreams want
and who we really are;
so much at stake here
so little it takes
to merely
accept
that dreams are not real;
people are.
This is not to say
dreams must die.
Rather only dream
that dream
which constitutes Love’s Art
which comes with the words:
'I shall love you
til death do us part.'
That too
is a dream:
True,
True Love
imparts.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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One Vision
Words and music by freddie mercury,brian may,roger
Taylor and john deacon
(God works in mysterious ways)
One man one goal one mission
One heart one soal just one solution
One flash of light yeah one God one vision
One flesh one bone
One true religion
One voice one hope
One real decision
Wowowowo gimme one vision
No wrong no right
Im gonna tell you theres no black and no white
No blood no stain
All we need is one world wide vision
One flesh one bone
One true religion
One race one hope
One real decision
Wowowowo oh yeah oh yeah oh yeah
I had a dream
When I was young
A dream of sweet illusion
A glimpse of hope and unity
And visions of one sweet union
But a cold wind blows
And a dark rain falls
And in my heart it shows
Look what theyve done to my dreams
So give me your hands
Give me your hearts
Im ready
Theres only one direction
One world one nation
Yeah one vision
No hate no fight
Just excitation
All through the night
Its a celebration wowowowo yeah
One one one one...
One vision...
One flesh one bone
One true religion
One voice one hope
One real decision
Gimme one light
Gimme one hope
Just gimme
One man one man
One bar one night
One day hey hey
Just gimme gimme gimme gimme
Fried chicken
Corrected by andrew keeley
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Monsoon Dawn
your alluring siren
‘Monsoon Musings '
Indira Babbellapati
transform transplant
receptive poetic heart
into true romantic reign
moments of soul quickened
heart felt fused appreciation
breathing birthright storm stir
rain-soaked wind-blowen
veil-form lightning-fuses
light-hearted far-longing
dagger flash recognition
through third eye open
awareness netting monsoon
soft siren beautiful sensual poem
from the heart mind hand
of a beautiful image versed soul
poem by Terence George Craddock
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By The Light of an Angel
An Angel stands out in a crowd,
My heart sings out loud,
An Angel leaves behind a trail of clouds,
Just as your love makes me proud,
Everywhere you leave a sign,
Is it your time to be mine?
Waiting for your head to turn,
So my love can burn,
An Angel's grace lights your face,
Your love's strength leaves a trace,
Across my life a vision,
A vision so grand,
I can feel your heartbeat in my hand,
In the light of a candle I see you smile,
Can we be together for a while?
In your eyes I see my truth,
In my heart I feel your faith,
You will see me by the light of an Angel,
A reflection of love's perfection,
Together we will see a vision of heaven,
A heaven's love we hold in our hearts,
And love is a great place to start!
I will follow you now,
Wipe the stress from your brow,
I will embrace your pain,
And as one we shall remain!
07 June 2012
poem by David Andre' Klopper
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Heart Lying In Defeat
The irony of this thought will fade
And you won’t even be able to look me in the face
I know what you did
And that night I found what you hid
You said it was only a one time thing
So I sat there and watched her leave
You promised it was okay
But, I had to watch her leave more than just that day
Her body always fair and supple
But, you swore I was better
I took those words and hung on to them forever
They made my pain fade
That was with what you paid
But, my tears burned and it was such a deep pain
My soul now tattered and my heart now bled dry
You took this to far all you did was lie
I wanted it to work but, you let it die
I wanted you more but, you wouldn’t try
Our love gave me a natural high
But, what we were meant for was sin
I don’t try to compete with your ways you’re too sly
And every night those tears helped me get by
And every day those looks from you will make me last through the hour
But, the time will come when I won’t fake it
My anger will shine through
And the truth of how you hurt me will lay naked
And this irony of this thought will be a bold red
The color of all the blood my heart has shed
This is what we get when ignore lies
This how I deal with the death of our perfect life
This is what will come when you cheat
A perfect heart lying defeat
poem by Victoria Martinez
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Dedication To His Love
SWEETEST, in desperate hours
Of clouds and lightning and rain,
You came like a vision of flowers
And summer and song once again:
You came, and I could not receive you,
Seared in my flesh, in my sight.
I heedlessly turned back to leave you;
We passed on into the night.
(Heart, soul and all, sweet, never to sever, Love me for ever!)
Dearest, in hours of twilight,
Terrible, silent and lone,
When the light, long sought for as my light
And found, for ever seemed gone —
When the hope of the love-dream of boyhood
Passed sad with unknowing rebuff,
With your passionate patience and joyhood
You came, O my Priestess of Love!
(Heart, soul and all, dear, never to sever, Love me for ever!)
With your lips to mine deathly-reposing,
You kissed back the blood and the sighs:
You lit up my tired eyes unclosing
With the light of your beautiful eyes.
You held me close-pressed to your bosom,
Your heart to my heart, beating strong,
In mine eyes put your life like a blossom,
Put my love in your lips like a song!
(Heart, soul and all, sweet, never to sever,
Love me for ever!)
Dearest, of my heart-blood's Evangel
I hail you Queen, and of me:
Sweetest, I revere you Archangel
Of the better time that shall be.
So to these Songs, for my love's sake,
As Priestess of Love must you stand,
And, for the great Truth above's sake,
God's seraph with his sword in your hand!
(Heart, soul and all, dear, never to sever,
Love me for ever!)
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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Your Wonderful Parade
Your wonderful parade
Moving thru the towns that rise and then they fade
Over streets that pass the houses where you've stayed
Your wonderful parade
Your daily masquerade
Paper masks behind this face that you have made
Crumble down upon foundation that you've laid
Your daily masquerade
(*) stand in line try to climb
Meet your wife at cocktail time
Surely you should try and choose a better way to fall
Your marvelous charade
Never could be worth the prices that you've paid
Blindness is a part of every game you've played
Your marvelous charade
Repeat (*)
Your daily masquerade
Your wonderful parade
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Happiest Dream
I love to look, as evening fails,
On vestals streaming in their veils,
Within the fane past altar rails,
Green palms in hand.
My darkest moods will always clear
When I can fancy children near,
With rosy lips a-laughing--dear,
Light-dancing band!
Enchanting vision, too, displayed,
That of a sweet and radiant maid,
Who knows not why she is afraid,--
Love's yet unseen!
Another--rarest 'mong the rare--
To see the gaze of chosen fair
Return prolonged and wistful stare
Of eager een.
But--dream o'er all to stir my soul,
And shine the brightest on the roll,
Is when a land of tyrant's toll
By sword is rid.
I say not dagger--with the sword
When Right enchampions the horde,
All in broad day--so that the bard
May sing the victor with the starred
Bayard and Cid!
poem by Victor Hugo
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An Answered Prayer
I prayed a lover's prayer and prayers sent me
A beautiful lady of art and life in perfect harmony.
Her eyes of Burmese jade, her lips of amorous African ruby
Her skin of Chinese silk, her heart a refined piece of jewelry
As rare as rare, and as sweet as sweet
This lady is beauty whole and beauty complete.
Her slim delicate tenderness lies between beauty and love
And in mine heart her beauty is be love
By mine senses, my soul, my spirit, my will
Made light by her soul, as light and colorful of a peacock's quill
I do but for a moment touch her loin
And our eyes, my prayers, do finally adjoin
Love has sent me a scion of pleasure
In one moment of love's eternity
Did I possess a Goddess and I did see love's tremendous treasure
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Rendition of the Soul
wish to be right, though not perfect, the aim
high lead to low, what more i can do, but
to do the right direction my Mama and Papa
want me so
all my life lives in my sweet Daddy and
Mommy my sister my brother gives me all
what i say, they never told me not to cry, until
i remember the story of the falling angel who
once to be happy
days and night, my heart wonder, why people
want to be free and at the end of that day, tears
fall to the ground of no where to be found in
their heart so sad, even ready to be fire ring
squad, in front of the one they love
like a thirst of the hand that never drunk and
in the eyes that can't see; bring me then back
the old hand that call, thy bosom arm my heart
is so cool, let me ask some pity in the tears that
flows, taste it seems its empty, for thy soul
wanted to see, the bastion of the One whom
comes with the heart that hold in the soul that
folds
here i am, open my lonely heart, and hear the
rendition of my soul....all comes in you Lord,
promise that I may fall in your mercy
i am full......
poem by Antonio Liao
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R.i.p. 1947 - 201?
The years misspent sped, span
two distant worlds which man
in his own image made.
Impatience one displayed.
The other, though, began
to turn the tables played
cards which the first dismayed.
First communistic clan
supremacy sought, ran
from peoples’ hopes, obeyed
itself, then fast did fade.
Then came with WAN and LAN
an internet whose braid
spurred education, trade.
Pollution corn crops, bran,
made scarce as watering can.
Democracy decayed
though most lip-service paid
to freedom’s flag. ‘The Plan’
freethinking had to ban,
as most men grew afraid
of diff’rences, - few stayed!
I write here while I can,
while my last moments fan
Life’s embers which, when weighed,
no feather tip. Beard greyed,
regretting much, I scan
the Past which, heedless, ran
after ‘progress’ - jade
which many hopes waylayed.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Adelaide Ironside
Knowest thou now, O Love! Oh pure from the death of thy summer of sweetness!
Seest thou now, O new-born Delight of the Ransomed and Free!
We have gathered the flower for the fruit; we have hastened the hour of thy meetness;
For thou wert sealed unto us, and thine Angel hath waited for thee.
Not in disdain, O Love! O Sweet! of desires that are earthly and mortal,
Not in the scorn of thine Art, whose beginning and end is Divine,
So soon have we borne thee asleep through the glow of the uttermost portal,
But in the ruth of high souls that have travelled with longings like thine.
Nothing is lost, O Love! O mine! and thy seemingly broken endeavour
Here re-appeareth, transfigured as thou; yet the Art of thy youth;
And the light of the Spirit of Beauty is on it for ever and ever;
For Art is the garment of Praise, and the broidered apparel of Truth.
Seest thou now, O Love! how Art, in a way to mortality nameless,
Liveth again, soul-informed, love-sustained, self-completing, for aye?
How thy heart's purpose was good, and the dream of thy maidenhood blameless,—
How thy fair dawn is fulfilled in the light of ineffable day?
Seest thou now, O Love! O Fair! how the high spiritlife is Art regnant—
Art become bliss, and harmonious response to the Infinite Will?
Fused and transfused into Love, with the germs of eternity pregnant—
Crowned as the law of the beauty of Holiness; throned, yet Art still?
Not then in vain, O Love! thy dawn, nor the dream of thy holy ambition;
Never a trace of thy finger hath witnessed for Beauty in vain;
In the bloom of the noon of thine ardour thy soul became fair for fruition;
We have smitten the green into gold but to spare thee the harvest of pain.
Nothing that came from thy hand, O Love, made void, cut off, evanescent,—
From the infantile essay that strove with the weapon of outline alone,
To the Angels thou lovedst to portray with luminous plumes iridescent,
Till thy soul drew so near unto us that we took thee for one of our own.
Now may'st thou trace, O Heart! Sweet Heart! from on high all the way I have led
thee,
From the youth of a world in the Seas of the South to unperishing Rome;
For the lure of thy following soul was the sheen of my wings that o'erspread thee,
Flushing with reflex of glory the path of thy pilgrimage—home.
By the way of the age of the world I have chosen to lead thee to glory;
Of the wine of the might of the world have I given thee to drink ere thou slept;
Where the Masters have walked I have laid thee, ensphered with the darlings of
story;
I have waked thee a perfected spirit; matured, yet thine innocence kept.
There, too, I led thee to feed thee with prescience and keen imitation
Of the art-adjuvant Grace that hath given thee, a love-gift, to me;
By the work of my hands did I wake in thee foretaste of Transfiguration,—
For thine Angel once wrought upon earth as thou; and his work thou didst see.
Now is thy spirit, O Love, in mine. In thy heart I behold thou dost know me.
I looked for thy glad recognition; no converse of aliens is this;
Oft when thy longings went upward, thy soul, like a mirror below me,
Caught my own loveliest visions in shapes of Elysian bliss.
Name me not now, O Love! O mine! for the name of my days of wayfaring
Still hath the note of a fevered desire, and an echo of pain.
Come thou, O Gift of long hope, to the home of thine Angel's preparing!
There I shall show thee the mercy of God, and the things that remain.
poem by James Brunton Stephens
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Thou Art Not False, But Thou Art Fickle
Thou art not false, but thou art fickle,
To those thyself so fondly sought;
The tears that thou hast forced to trickle
Are doubly bitter from that thought:
'Tis this which breaks the heart thou grievest
Too well thou lov'st - too soon thou leavest.
The wholly false the heart despises,
And spurns deceiver and deceit;
But she who not a thought disguises,
Whose love is as sincere as sweet,
When she can change who loved so truly,
It feels what mine has felt so newly.
To dream of joy and wake to sorrow
Is doom'd to all who love or live;
And if, when conscious on the morrow,
We scarce our fancy can forgive,
That cheated us in slumber only,
To leave the waking soul more lonely,
What must they feel whom no false vision,
But truest, tenderest passion warm'd?
Sincere, but swift in sad transition;
As if a dream alone had charm'd?
Ah! sure such grief is fancy's scheming,
And all thy change can be but dreaming!
(Valentine's Day) Romance, Emotion, Passion, And Love
You'll never lose….., for it fills your heart……,
Instantly you feel it….., when Cupid shoots his dart……,
Now you won't be lonely…., ever again……,
For God has smiled on you from Heaven above……,
With Romance, Emotion, Passion And Love…..! ! !
Romance, Emotion, Passion And Love…..,
Romance, Emotion, Passion And Love……,
It's the thrill of a lifetime…., there's never enough….,
Romance, Emotion, Passion And Love…..! ! !
When luck decides to touch your soul……,
Suddenly you're body loses control…….,
All sadness is gone and your dreams are on fire……,
Desire is all your mind is thinking of…….,
With Romance, Emotion, Passion And Love…..! ! !
Romance, Emotion, Passion And Love…..,
Romance, Emotion, Passion And Love……,
It's the thrill of a lifetime…., there's never enough….,
Romance, Emotion, Passion And Love…..! ! !
..................................Trade Martin.2012.
poem by Trade Martin
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False
False! Good God, I am dreaming!
No, no, it never can be-
You who are so true in seeming,
You, false to your vows and me?
My wife and my fair boy's mother
The star of my life-my queen-
To yield herself to another
Like some light Magdalene!
Proofs! what are proofs-I defy them!
They never can shake my trust;
If you look in my face and deny them
I will trample them into the dust.
For whenever I read of the glory
Of the realms of Paradise,
I sought for the truth of the story
And found it in your sweet eyes.
Why, you are the shy young creature
I wooed in her maiden grace;
There was purity in each feature,
And my heaven I found in your face.
And, 'not only married but mated,'
I would say in my pride and joy;
And our hopes were all consummated
When the angels gave us our boy.
Now you could not blot that beginning
So beautiful, pure and true,
With a record of wicked sinning
As a common woman might do.
Look up in your old frank fashion,
With your smile so free from art;
And say that no guilty passion
Has ever crept into your heart.
How pallid you are, and you tremble!
You are hiding your face from view!
'Tho' a sinner, you cannot dissemble'-
My God! then the tale is true?
True and the sun above us
Shines on in the summer skies?
And men say the angels love us,
And that God is good and wise.
Yet he lets a wanton thing like you
Ruin my home and my name!
Get out of my sight ere I strike you
Dead in your shameless shame!
No, no, I was wild, I was brutal;
I would not take your life,
For the efforts of death would be futile
To wipe out the sin of a wife.
Wife-why, that word has seemed sainted,
I uttered it like a prayer.
And now to think it is tainted-
Christ! how much we can bear!
'Slay you!' my boy's stained mother-
Nay, that would not punish, or save;
A soul that has outraged another
Finds no sudden peace in the grave.
I will leave you here to
remember
The Eden that was your own,
While on toward my life's December
I walk in the dark alone.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Sweet Angel
pretty beautiful angel that you are an angel of heaven and goodness greatness such a sight to my delight ur smile u make me shine always wanna be good never wrong i try to be the days i count down til wen i can see ur smile ur golden soul of forever more ur never bad jus sweet great greater then great better then any treasure in this cosmos ur smile shines like starligh starbright better sweeter
ur smile makes me wanna be better then the nothing i am and was back then and as i am now ur mind such a nice nice thing weh u speak ur voice in my heart in my soul in my mind i could never ever not ever never wanna forget ur voice or ur smile always there in me in my mind til the last days in my grave id remember and take with me to heaven or hell or to nowhere alone in darkness my soul would
wander but torn asunder if u forgort bout me aLLright that be to me but you ur presence would always be with me and this ur memory id always hold true sweet sweet angel.
poem by Dorian Suchelle
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Blossom of Life
SO now she lies silent and sweet
With white flowers at her head and feet,
And she, the fairest flower, between.
The bud that with her bosom's swell
In dear delight once rose and fell
Now wafts her all it has to tell,
And wonders why she sleeps serene.
And yet in life how small a part,
With pretty face and petty heart,
She played! And in that form so fair
There never dwelt a deep desire,
Her bosom never thrilled a-fire:
She loved too lightly e'en to tire—
And all my heart was meant for her.
Was there a soul within those eyes
That seemed to speak my dear surmise,
That with no tears were ever wet?
Through life she laughed her careless way,
She knew not sorrow or dismay—
And I have sorrowed day by day,
While those pale lips are smiling yet!
And so she lies on her small bed,
With white flowers at her feet and head,
And she, the fairest flower between!
In life how false the little rôle —
The peerless face, the paltry soul!
But she is perfect now—the whole
Pale blossom of the Might-Have-Been.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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