力 Aura of Felicity 爱
He meets by chance he'll ever bless
a maiden, and some hidden hand
unveils an inner loveliness
too few take time to understand.
Time stands stock still, clock can't progress,
as second sight's embracing strand
second-thoughts disbands - caress
sends shivers through pores which expand.
His promise, through her presence, grows
to match the merits in her eyes,
to blushing envy turns the rose
acknowledging true Paradise.
They flow together, former woes -
in ways no verse may summarize -
replaced by links which cannot close
metamorphosis supplies.
Thought trains awake dreams skeins asleep,
her aura haunts him day and night,
one image still will senses sweep
with wonder, worship, and delight.
Warm aura rippling, rich and deep,
excites, incites to more insight,
love's neurones bridge synaptic leap
like salmon fording stream, scales bright.
Drawn by strong dreams nightlong he longs,
most humble where he most aspires,
to offer sacred, secret songs
to her he honours and desires
where 'we belong' may know no wrongs,
all echoes joy's celestial choirs,
where happiness itself prolongs,
no guarantees, no pleas requires.
Her graces make him rich. He'd ask
no golden ring engraven while
he may not prove himself to task
the equal of that precious smile.
Meanwhile would pleasure find and bask
in soft reflection, reconcile
hopes, fears, fears, hopes, and, shedding mask,
beguiled by feelings versatile.
He aims to catch flame's eye, perform
some labour, famed reward immense,
anticipates ways to transform
bright bloom in new-born innocence
to future shared, trust crystal clear.
Hope holds key to true happiness.
He trembles, mixing joy and fear,
would stand beside her, nothing less...
September 2006,4 July 2008
see below for previous versions: previous titles Her aura Haunts
Her Aura Haunts
He meets by chance he'll ever bless
a maiden, and some hidden hand
unveils an inner loveliness
too few take time to understand.
His promise, through her presence, grows
to match the merits in her eyes,
to blushing envy turns the rose
acknowledging true Paradise.
Thought trains awake dreams skeins asleep,
her aura haunts him day and night,
one image still will senses sweep
with wonder, worship, and delight.
(20 April 1990 and 2 September 2006 see below for first version)
Her Beauty Haunts
He meets by chance, he must confess,
a damsel, and some hidden hand
unveils her inner loveliness
that others fail to understand.
His promise, through her presence, grows
to match the merits in her eyes,
to blushing envy turns the rose
who knows that She is Paradise.
For joy of her he finds no sleep,
her beauty haunts him day and night,
dreams melt his heart, his senses sweep
with wonder, worship, and delight.
Inspired by her nightlong he longs,
most humble where he most aspires,
to offer sacred, secret songs
to her he honours and desires.
Her graces make him rich. He'd ask
no golden ring engraven while
he may not prove himself to task
the equal of that precious smile.
He hopes to catch her eye, and do
some labour, joy's reward immense,
anticipates the date she'll, too,
see bloom in new-born innocence
shared future - vision crystal clear
which holds the key to happiness, -
he trembles, mixing joy and fear,
to stand beside her, nothing less...
(20 April 1990)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Aura of Felicity
He meets by chance he’ll ever bless
a maiden, and some hidden hand
unveils an inner loveliness
too few take time to understand.
Time stands stock still, clock can't progress,
as second sight's embracing strand
second-thoughts disbands - caress
sends shivers through pores which expand.
His promise, through her presence, grows
to match the merits in her eyes,
to blushing envy turns flush rose
acknowledging true Paradise.
They flow together, former woes -
in ways no verse may summarize -
replaced by links no blinds can close
metamorphosis supplies.
Thought trains awake dreams skeins asleep,
her aura haunts him day and night,
one image still will senses sweep
with wonder, worship, and delight.
Warm aura rippling, rich and deep,
excites, incites to more insight,
love's neurones bridge synaptic leap
like salmon fording stream, scales bright.
Drawn by strong dreams nightlong he longs –
most humble where he most aspires –
to offer sacred, secret songs
to her he honours and desires
where 'we belong' may know no wrongs,
all echoes joy's celestial choirs,
where happiness itself prolongs,
no guarantees, no pleas requires.
Her graces make him rich. He’d ask
no golden ring engraven while
he may not prove himself to task
the equal of that precious smile.
Meanwhile would pleasure find and bask
in soft reflection, reconcile
hopes, fears, fears, hopes, and, shedding mask,
beguiled by feelings versatile.
He aims to catch flame's eye, perform
some labour, famed reward immense,
anticipates ways to transform
bright bloom in new-born innocence
to future shared, trust crystal clear.
Hope holds key to true happiness.
He trembles, mixing joy and fear,
would stand beside her, nothing less...
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Light Strikes - 0384
Light strikes, by chance, one must confess,
A damsel, and some hidden hand
Unveils a latent loveliness
Revealed: emotions understand.
Enlightenment all floods, and grows,
Now matches merits in all eyes,
Crimson blushing turns the rose,
Envying lost Paradise.
And she who's key to happiness,
Life's flower, fairest in the land,
Is strong beside her and we guess
Can grow as straight, - joy by joy fanned
Encircles both, needs no disguise.
Lord! When she smiles he's rich, won't ask
A golden ring engraven while
Unable to prove to the task
Responsive, equal to the trial.
Eyes sapphire lit he catches to
Name some labour, share some sense,
Creating with her something new
Extending mutual confidence.
And by her side, still hand in hand,
Lost in inner reverie,
Is true reflection who Time's sand
Can't halt because Eternity
Exists for all her smile have scanned.
Lost! For, for HER, he cannot sleep,
As soft voice haunts throughout the night,
Unman's his heart, his senses sweep,
Real charm to worship with delight.
Entranced, both day and night he longs,
New humble where he most aspires,
Creating these acrostic songs,
Expectant dreams on deep desires.
A smile beside her complements
Life's picture, growing fine and fair,
In joyful playfulness, - no care
Can alter Nature's gifts and scents,
Enchanting all the elements.
Life until now has timed away
Avoiding naught, yet finding peace
Unduly difficult, yet may
Respond discovering release
Exchanging glances as souls meet
Never to separate again,
Chance encounter? Time may greet
Experience which will not wane.
And by her side evolving elf
Listens, learns, and longs to be
Identified as in herself
Complete, responsive, harmony
Expressing authenticity.
(8 June 1991)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto III.
Preludes
I The Lover
He meets, by heavenly chance express,
The destined maid; some hidden hand
Unveils to him that loveliness
Which others cannot understand.
His merits in her presence grow,
To match the promise in her eyes,
And round her happy footsteps blow
The authentic airs of Paradise.
For joy of her he cannot sleep;
Her beauty haunts him all the night;
It melts his heart, it makes him weep
For wonder, worship, and delight.
O, paradox of love, he longs,
Most humble when he most aspires,
To suffer scorn and cruel wrongs
From her he honours and desires.
Her graces make him rich, and ask
No guerdon; this imperial style
Affronts him; he disdains to bask,
The pensioner of her priceless smile.
He prays for some hard thing to do,
Some work of fame and labour immense,
To stretch the languid bulk and thew
Of love's fresh-born magnipotence.
No smallest boon were bought too dear,
Though barter'd for his love-sick life;
Yet trusts he, with undaunted cheer,
To vanquish heaven, and call her Wife.
He notes how queens of sweetness still
Neglect their crowns, and stoop to mate;
How, self-consign'd with lavish will,
They ask but love proportionate;
How swift pursuit by small degrees,
Love's tactic, works like miracle;
How valour, clothed in courtesies,
Brings down the haughtiest citadel;
And therefore, though he merits not
To kiss the braid upon her skirt,
His hope, discouraged ne'er a jot,
Out-soars all possible desert.
II Love a Virtue
Strong passions mean weak will, and he
Who truly knows the strength and bliss
Which are in love, will own with me
No passion but a virtue 'tis.
Few hear my word; it soars above
The subtlest senses of the swarm
Of wretched things which know not love,
Their Psyche still a wingless worm.
Ice-cold seems heaven's noble glow
To spirits whose vital heat is hell;
And to corrupt hearts even so
The songs I sing, the tale I tell.
These cannot see the robes of white
In which I sing of love. Alack,
But darkness shows in heavenly light,
Though whiteness, in the dark, is black!
III Unthrift
Ah, wasteful woman, she who may
On her sweet self set her own price,
Knowing man cannot choose but pay,
How has she cheapen'd paradise;
How given for nought her priceless gift,
How spoil'd the bread and spill'd the wine,
Which, spent with due, respective thrift,
Had made brutes men, and men divine.
IV The Attainment
You love? That's high as you shall go;
For 'tis as true as Gospel text,
Not noble then is never so,
Either in this world or the next.
Honoria.
I
Grown weary with a week's exile
From those fair friends, I rode to see
The church-restorings; lounged awhile,
And met the Dean; was ask'd to tea,
And found their cousin, Frederick Graham,
At Honor's side. Was I concern'd,
If, when she sang, his colour came,
That mine, as with a buffet, burn'd?
A man to please a girl! thought I,
Retorting his forced smiles, the shrouds
Of wrath, so hid as she was by,
Sweet moon between her lighted clouds!
II
Whether this Cousin was the cause
I know not, but I seem'd to see,
The first time then, how fair she was,
How much the fairest of the three.
Each stopp'd to let the other go;
But, time-bound, he arose the first.
Stay'd he in Sarum long? If so
I hoped to see him at the Hurst.
No: he had call'd here, on his way
To Portsmouth, where the ‘Arrogant,’
His ship, was; he should leave next day,
For two years' cruise in the Levant.
II
Had love in her yet struck its germs?
I watch'd. Her farewell show'd me plain
She loved, on the majestic terms
That she should not be loved again.
And so her cousin, parting, felt.
Hope in his voice and eye was dead.
Compassion did my malice melt;
Then went I home to a restless bed.
I, who admired her too, could see
His infinite remorse at this
Great mystery, that she should be
So beautiful, yet not be his,
And, pitying, long'd to plead his part;
But scarce could tell, so strange my whim,
Whether the weight upon my heart
Was sorrow for myself or him.
IV
She was all mildness; yet 'twas writ
In all her grace, most legibly,
‘He that's for heaven itself unfit,
‘Let him not hope to merit me.’
And such a challenge, quite apart
From thoughts of love, humbled, and thus
To sweet repentance moved my heart,
And made me more magnanimous,
And led me to review my life,
Inquiring where in aught the least,
If question were of her for wife,
Ill might be mended, hope increas'd.
Not that I soar'd so far above
Myself, as this great hope to dare;
And yet I well foresaw that love
Might hope where reason must despair;
And, half-resenting the sweet pride
Which would not ask me to admire,
‘Oh,’ to my secret heart I sigh'd,
‘That I were worthy to desire!’
V
As drowsiness my brain reliev'd,
A shrill defiance of all to arms,
Shriek'd by the stable-cock, receiv'd
An angry answer from three farms.
And, then, I dream'd that I, her knight,
A clarion's haughty pathos heard,
And rode securely to the fight,
Cased in the scarf she had conferr'd;
And there, the bristling lists behind,
Saw many, and vanquish'd all I saw
Of her unnumber'd cousin-kind,
In Navy, Army, Church, and Law;
Smitten, the warriors somehow turn'd
To Sarum choristers, whose song,
Mix'd with celestial sorrow, yearn'd
With joy no memory can prolong;
And phantasms as absurd and sweet
Merged each in each in endless chace,
And everywhere I seem'd to meet
The haunting fairness of her face.
poem by Coventry Patmore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love's Phantom
Whene'er I try to read a book,
Across the page your face will look,
And then I neither know nor care
What sense the printed words may bear.
At night when I would go to sleep,
Thinking of you, awake I keep,
And still repeat the words you said,
Like sick men murmuring prayers in bed.
And when, with weariness oppressed:
I sink in spite of you to rest,
Your image, like a lovely sprite,
Haunts me in dreams through half the night.
I wake upon the autumn morn
To find the sunrise hardly-born,
And in the sky a soft pale blue,
And in my heart your image true.
When out I walk to take the air,
Your image is for ever there,
Among the woods that lose their leaves,
Or where the North Sea sadly heaves.
By what enchantment shall be laid
This ghost, which does not make afraid,
But vexes with dim loveliness
And many a shadowy caress?
There is no other way I know
But unto you forthwith to go,
That I may look upon the maid
Whereof that other is the shade.
As the strong sun puts out the moon,
Whose borrowed rays are all his own,
So, in your living presence, dies
The phantom kindled at your eyes.
By this most blessed spell, each day
The vexing ghost awhile I lay.
Yet am I glad to know that when
I leave you it will rise again.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Rose, Fall
Rose of many petals that fall at gentle touch,
you cannot match up to my love-who with touch does not fall
Rose of the green stem, who withers when is dry
you cannot match up to my love, who with age, never dries
Rose of thorny flaws, who pricks me at the lips
you cannot match up to my love, whos lips contain no thorns
Rose like any other rose, who with them does not stand out,
you cannot match up to my love, whose beauty stands outloud
Rose of limited colors, who can only bloom one tone
you cannot match up to my love, who blooms of every hue
Rose, who only appeals to eyes, to those who see its beauty
you cannot match up to my love, who appeals to every sense
Rose fall down, and bow to my love-she is the one with grace
Rose wither away to my love, whose beauty outlives yours
Rose turn 'way, when in presence to my love-
for she holds something you dont hold
and that is my steep love
poem by Afrodita Alkline
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Hieroglyphic Beguile Meant
HIEROGLYPHIC BEGUILE...MEANT
I sought inspiring way to play “beguile”
blood's flood rush-blushing flush, then hibernate,
lush, hid ‘mid hieroglyphics of soft smile.
It dawned that very few can reconcile
emotions' brakes while breaking conscious state,
to draw more definitions for “beguile”.
Most, blind behind closed minds, can’t conjugate
dimensions manifold, unfold, translate,
decypher hieroglyphics of soft smile.
It takes so many lifetimes to compile
right signals light, bright eyes communicate
decoding definitions for “beguile”
into word worlds both varied, versatile,
deep, difficult to truly contemplate -
expanding hieroglyphics of soft smile.
Content observing content, context, style,
expressive inner eyes deliberate,
a worthwhile definition for “beguile”,
hidden in hieroglyphics of soft smile.
There are two definitions for “beguile”
one shares, one snares love, fair disguising hate -
what’s truth mid hieroglyphics of Your smile?
What if snare scare replaced rare care to dial
confusion more than loving fusion’s state,
refusal, ersatz aura ringed by rile?
What if those hieroglyphics hid heart vile,
whose slyness surface smiles would compensate
with blushing rushes should “beguile” prove guile.
What would remain of love’s fair sceptered isle?
Who could clear conscience e’er exonerate
from name of blame whose fame would flame defile,
mark Lethe dark, where no stark hopes beguile
lost soul, shade forfeit, damned, banned, intestate
parody pornographic, mercantile.
True torment, false beguilement takes to trial,
ensures despair, bare cell disconsolate,
Cupid's gilt arrows dipped in venom vile -
envy, greed, to feed perversions' weight
with appetites that needs exaggerate,
deform, intentions turned from narrow, straight,
to swift descent from paradise exile,
sharp fall before dupe hieroglyphic smile! ...
Yet trust MUST win the way to reconcile
both scope and hope with love emancipate –
there lies no lies, true rune tune of soft smile.
Then strife of daily life would prove worthwhile
spell doubt dispels, none underestimate
beguilement hieroglyphic of soft smile
when motivated by no ego's wile,
integrity as emblem steers love's ship of state.
Which sense should tale gasp ending prehensile,
grasp content, context, semi-formal style,
what meanings through synaptic condensate?
Effective definition for “beguile”,
thought sought through hieroglyphics of soft smile
far from brash crowds, cash conscious, rash, who rate
worth on this earth as status, alternate
between truth, false, fact, fiction, lacking style.
Meanwhile, excitement rises as rhymes close,
beguilement through poetic prose shows, flows.
21 July 2004 revised 17 November 2008 and 19 February 2010
robi03_1042_robi03_0000 XXX_IJL
for previous versions entitled Beguile...Meant see below
Beguile...Meant
I sought precision lay to play “beguile”
blood's flood rush-blushing flush, then hibernate,
lush, hid ‘mid hieroglyphics of soft smile.
It dawned that very few can reconcile
their aches' desires with brakes of conscious state,
or draw more definitions for “beguile”.
Most b[l]ind, closed mind, sore, flawed, can’t conjugate
dimensions manifold unfold, translate
the cyphered hieroglyphics of soft smile.
It takes so many lifetimes to compile
right signals light, bright eyes communicate
decoding definitions for “beguile”
into word worlds varied, versatile,
deep, difficult to truly contemplate -
expanding hieroglyphics of soft smile.
Content observing content, context, style
expressive, inner eyes deliberate,
a worthwhile definition for “beguile”,
hidden in hieroglyphics of soft smile.
There are two definitions for “beguile”
one shares true love, one snares ere fair shows hand of hate! -
What’s truth mid hieroglyphics of Your smile?
What if snare scare replaced rare care to dial
confusion more than loving fusion’s state,
refusal, ersatz aura ringed by rile?
What if those hieroglyphics hid heart vile,
whose slyness surface smiles would compensate
with blushing rushes should “beguile” be guile? –
What would remain of love’s fair sceptered isle?
Could I my conscience e’er exonerate
from name of blame whose fame would flame exile
to Lethe dark where no stark hopes beguile
lost soul, shade forfeit, damned, banned, intestate
parody pornographic to defile!
I’d torment false beguilement, take to trial,
ensure none suffer more, disconsolate,
or fall before that hieroglyphic smile! ...
Yet trust MUST win the way to reconcile
both scope and hope with love emancipate –
there lies no lies, true rune tune of soft smile.
Then strife of daily life would prove worthwhile
spell doubt dispels, none underestimate –
beguilement hieroglyphic of soft smile!
Which sense should tale gasp ending prehensile,
grasp content, context, semi-formal style,
what meanings through synapses condensate?
Effective definition for “beguile”,
thought sought through hieroglyphics of soft smile
far from the madding crowds that alternate
between truth, false, fact, fiction yet, meanwhile,
excitement rose as rhymes close, prose abate.
21 July 2004 revised 17 November 2008
for previous version see below
BEGUILE MEANT
I sought an inner meaning for “beguile”
when blood rush blush would flush then hibernate,
lush, hid ‘mid hieroglyphics of sure smile.
It dawned what few, forlorn, may reconcile -
most b(l) ind, closed mind, sore, flawed, can’t conjugate
or draw more definitions for “beguile”.
I implications grasped, gasped, thought while
dimensions manifold unfold, translate
the cyphered hieroglyphics of sure smile.
So let me take ten lifetimes to compile
right signals light, bright eyes communicate
decoding definitions for “beguile”
into word worlds varied, versatile,
deep, difficult to truly contemplate -
expanding hieroglyphics of sure smile.
Content observing content, context, style
expressive, inner eyes deliberate,
a worthwhile definition for “beguile”,
mind finds in hieroglyphics of sure smile.
Yet there two definions for “beguile”
exist – one shares true love, one snares ere hate! -
What’s truth mid hieroglyphics of Your smile?
What if snare scare replaced rare care to dial
confusion more than loving fusion’s state,
refuse ersatz, aura ringed by rile?
What if those hieroglyphics hid heart vile,
whose slyness surface smiles would compensate
with blushing rushes should “beguile” be guile? –
What would remain of love’s fair sceptered isle?
Could I my conscience e’er exonerate
from name of blame whose fame would flame exile
to Lethe dark where no stark hopes beguile
lost soul and forfeit, damned, banned, intestate
with smile turned pornographic to defile!
I’d torment false beguilement, take to trial,
ensure none suffer more, disconsolate,
or fall before that hieroglyphic smile! ...
Yet trust MUST win the way to reconcile
both scope and hope with love emancipate –
there lies, no lies, the rune tune of sure smile.
Then strife of daily life would prove worthwhile
with spell true spelt none underestimate –
beguiled by hieroglyphics of sure smile!
Which definition should one here meanwhile
retain observing content, context, style
expressive, inner eyes deliberate,
effective definition for “beguile”,
one seeks though hieroglyphics of sure smile...?
21 July 2004
Hieroglyphic Beguile Meant Poem [c] Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Love in all its Glory
Within the petals of the rose
Captured in the fragrance of the orchid
Nurtured by the holy water of love
Drenched in the sunlight of your being
My love is kept safe in the woman
That is you
Within your eyes there is a flame
Born of passion, fuelled by a sacred trust
A woman beyond Michael Angelo’s imagination
Beyond the dreams of first love.
Your face worthy of every love poem ever written
With a smile that my dreams can,
Play over and over again in a world,
That only you and I know
Where we can walk, hand in hand
Through dreams that have not yet spoken
Down paths where our emotions merge
Where two hearts beat as one
In this glorious thing we call love
Here our souls can lay down together
Away from this troubled world
To make love, for angels to envy
Where your kisses heal the man that is me
To bring me back from the abyss
To see the sunrise through your eyes
Hand in hand with my one true love
And when we are three
I pray that our child will grow
To find love and happiness
Just like you and me
poem by Steven Cooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Aura Of Being
LIKE A RADIATING AURA,
MY WHOLE BEING GLOWS OUTWARDLY,
WITH THE BURNING PASSION FOR TRUTH,
LIKE THE FIRE OF MY BEING,
MY AURA GLOWS,
YES, I WILL EXHALE WITH RELIEF,
WHEN THIS FEELING BEGETS ANOTHER,
THE AURA OF MY BEING IS ME,
I AM ME, YES I AM ME,
A SOVEREIGN BEING THAT LOVES TO LOVE AND HATES TO HATE,
THE AURA OF MY BEING IS ME,
MY PASSION FOR TRUTH,
MY LOVE FOR INTEGRITY,
YES IN THE AURA OF MY BEING, I BASK,
I WILL SING MY SONGS WITH JOY,
I WILL CRY MY TEARS ALONE,
I WILL FEEL MY PAINS ALONE,
I WILL BEAR MY SORROWS ALONE,
WHY? MY BEING IS MY AURA,
MY AURA IS MY BEING,
I AM A BEING RADIATING WITH THE AURA OF REGALITY.
MY AURA IS MY INTEGRITY.
THE AURA OF THE TIGER, PROTECTS THE TIGER.
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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Aura
If aura can numb the senses,
The tactic can be used for offenses,
Stand beside the human we desire,
Loan, loot and love can be ours.
If aura can numb one's own senses,
How can they feel the pleasures?
Aura is the radiation of heat
from anything that can burn and blaze.
Photograph of aura seems to reveal,
Mindset of one, who pose with no metal,
Rainbow colors are there with additional hues,
White and yellow for the saints and spiritualists,
who do not burn much for worldly pleasure,
running to hurt another heart to get gratified.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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400 ~ Bloom
Just begins to bud,
a rose,
holding hopes and fears
behind
black-red, velvet-soft petals.
Startled by a bright, new world,
it opens,
revealing petals of humility.
Blushing, growing,
opening as it becomes
accustomed
to beauty in light.
Proud color spreads wide across,
full bloom,
not as dark as at first,
glowing
from light that has filled it.
This rose can never die.
As love,
It can lose color, wilt, fade,
but in the mind,
the rose
will forever be in bright, full bloom.
This rose stands a symbol,
to time.
What has occurred to arrive at
now?
All the bloomings have led to one bright bloom,
this rose.
As someone has made me bloom,
she is
beauty and
light. Changing
my colors, releasing
my fears,
I owe her much, love
will never die, like
the glowing bloom of this,
a rose.
poem by Stan Pelfrey
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Seven Days
She was so young and so afraid
Of a world she could not understand
For seven days I held her close
Like a child in the palm of my hand
There were
Seven tears
To wipe away
Seven fears
To keep at bay
Seven words
For me to say
In seven days
The strands of wisdom twist and curl
Soft flame in the warmth of my heart
Oh essential words that lightly fall
Like snow thru the mist of her thought
The gentle rain of innocence
That flows from her ebony eyes
Another secret moment shared
To be part of the rest of our lives
There were
Seven dreams
To live for real
Seven streams
Of hope revealed
Seven ways
Of love to feel
In seven days
We are the only ones who know
Her smile was poetry
Her soul she showed it to me
The dawning of the seventh day
Saw her shine like the radiant skies
I knew that she would leave me then
Bright hope in her ebony eyes
(and now) I watch her dance before the world
Soft flame in the movements she makes
And all those secret moments shared
Stay warm in my thoughts everyday
Remembering
Seven tears
Wiped away
Seven fears
Kept at bay
Seven words
You heard me say
Seven dreams
To live and play
Seven streams
Of hope revealed
Seven waves
Of love we feel
Seven days
Memory of seven days
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Plateau - 1864
Could ever Eden's garden bright
be sacrificed to futile fight
when teeming dreams continue to
rhyme sunshine beams to future true?
Illusion may prove idyll blessed
by horse and carriage marriage dressed
where night is day and day through night
prolongs shared happiness' delight.
No way is truly lost, no flight
from fancy to fact fiction's blight,
no bark, no bite, and no denial,
no cruelty, one-sided trial,
no tarnish - wishing star at best
for future stars at love's behest.
No carelessness, for true insight
distinguishes 'twixt wrong and right.
Shared memories spell magic quite
enheartening, self-sustaining, might
dissolve fears with alacrity
show there's no cause - fatality
lies outside shared experience,
while slow decline at soul's expense
is out of court. Love must be right
must sweep suspicion out of sight.
Best is a plateau pearly white,
envelops life in peerless light,
If you discover - much ado -
I'm not the one, to self stay true,
let old affection guarantee
that love despises locks - float free,
and through that freedom find despite
doubts past, at last innate birthright.
(2 March 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Calico Plains
(matraca berg/mike noble)
Sweet abilena looks out at the midwestern sky
Sweet seventeen with a faraway look in her eyes
She said, I feel like a bird in a cage
But come september Im flying away
I said, Im gonna miss you then I made her promise to write
Since we were tall as the corn in the spring
We shared every secret, shared every dream
So anxious to grow in the new summer rain
And bloom like a rose on the calico plains
How could she hear as we laughed on that warm summer night
The tiny heart of the baby she carried inside
I stood beside her when september came
Watched her get married and caught the bouquet
And like those hand me down dresses she gave me
I made her dreams mine
From a seat by the window on wings made of steel
I stared at the patchwork over the fields
Where young tears that once fell like warm summer rain
Were turning to snow on the calico plains
Sweet abilena looks out at the midwestern sky
Closer to thirty but farther away in her eyes
She holds her babies like she holds her dreams
Each night she kisses and rocks them to sleep while
She reads the letters she makes me promise to write
Sweet abliena looks out at the midwestern sky
song performed by by Pam Tillis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There's More To Me Than Meets The Eye
There's more to me than meets the eye
Look closely, I too also cry
There's more to me than meets the eye
I swear to God and that's no lie
There's more to me than meets the eye
Get a chance to know me then decide
There's more to me than meets the eye
What the eyes percieves isn't always right
There's more to me than meets the eye
I'll be that guy on whom you can always rely
There's more to me than meets the eye
I still believe in love, happiness and rainbows in the sky
There's more to me than meets the eye
Behind all this, I'm a shy guy
There's more to me than meets the eye
Give me a chance to be a part of your life
There's more to me than meets the eye
I'll give you my heart, in which you'll reside
There's more to me than meets the eye
I look into yours and feel alive
There's more to me than meets the eye
Reminicing on the first time we met, and those cheesy lines. To my face it brings a smile.
There's more to me than meets the eyes
Without you in my life I'd rather die
There's more to me than meets the eye
Now that I've told you, do you believe in us.
poem by Kgagamatso Chimelwane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Plateau
PLATEAU
Could ever Eden's garden bright
be sacrificed to futile fight
when teeming dreams continue to
rhyme sunshine beams to future true?
Illusion may prove idyll blessed
by horse and carriage marriage dressed
where night is day and day through night
prolongs shared happiness' delight.
No way is truly lost, no flight
from fancy to fact fiction's blight,
no bark, no bite, and no denial,
no cruelty, one-sided trial,
no tarnish - wishing star at best
for future stars at love's behest.
No carelessness, for true insight
distinguishes 'twixt wrong and right.
Shared memories spell magic quite
enheartening, self-sustaining, might
dissolve fears with alacrity
show there's no cause - fatality
lies outside shared experience,
while slow decline at soul's expense
is out of court. Love must be right
must sweep suspicion out of sight.
Best is a plateau pearly white,
envelops life in peerless light,
If you discover - much ado -
I'm not the one, to self stay true,
let old affection guarantee
that love despises locks - float free,
and through that freedom find despite
doubts past, at last innate birthright.
2 March 2009
robi03_1864_robi03_0000 XXX_LXX
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Eyes Of A Child
(graham russell and ron bloom)
When you look to the past for lifes long hidden meaning
For the dreams and the plans made in your youth
Does the thrill to achieve match the warm hidden feeling
That lies so still and lives in you
In the eyes of a child there is joy, there is laughter
There is hope, there is trust, a chance to shape the future
For the lessons of life there is no better teacher
Than the look in the eyes of a child
Youve found the place to walk the path youve chosen
Youll never miss the world youve left behind
When life gives life, its happiness unbroken
When you give love, its love youll find
In the eyes of a child there is joy, there is laughter
There is hope, there is trust, a chance to shape the future
For the lessons of life there is no better teacher
Than the look in the eyes of a child
In the eyes of a child there is joy, there is laughter
There is hope, there is trust, a chance to shape the future
For the lessons of life there is no better teacher
Than the look in the eyes of a child
In the eyes of a child there is joy, there is laughter
There is hope, there is trust, a chance to shape the future
For the lessons of life there is no better teacher
Than the look in the eyes of a child
song performed by by Air Supply
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And Still Soul Sings - 0246 - Current Version
Is soul's pure voice stilled, vast vision spilled despite
heart's hidden beauty? Hesitant, soothing sting,
stumbling, humble hand sends offering
to show true flow, not stillborn, dimmed delight.
Symphony should spirit sweep, cleave tight,
touch friendship's tendrils, letting loose wound spring
to free the wealth of tenderness within.
Forswear forebodings for swift arrow's flight,
aim feathered well, refutes pride ride to fail.
Why should stored Future pale before sore Past,
feelings forlorn, torn, gusted by ghost gale?
Beyond the pale, once outcast, heart beats fast.
Soul peaks, speaks sweetly, song's strong beauty deems
hope turns new leaf, spurns grief, scope answers dreams.
(16 February 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Haunts Of Ancient Peace
Beside the garden walls,
We walk in haunts of ancient peace.
At night we rest and go to sleep
In haunts of ancient peace.
The love and light we seek,
The words we do not need to speak,
Here in this wondrous way we keep
These haunts of ancient peace.
Let us go there again
When we need some relief
Oh, when I cant find my feet
When I need rest and sleep.
The sunday bells they chime
Around the countryside and towns
A song of harmony and rhyme
In haunts of ancient peace.
The holy grail we seek
On down by haunts of ancient peace.
We see the new jerusalem
In haunts of ancient peace.
Oh, when I cant find my feet
Oh, when I need some relief
One more time again.
You know I want to go there one more time again.
Be still in haunts of ancient peace.
(be still)
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grasping Isolated
Lonely are these days
Followed by these nights,
Lonely am I,
In so many ways
So lonely am I,
That it bring tears
Casting out my inner fear
Crying only a little bit is no use
Happiness hides in the last tear
And I wept it
All that was lost becomes found…
Burning in my eyes
A shadow is floating through the moonlight.
And the night holds its breath
The air is full of emotions to feel,
And I drink in them passionately
Alone am I,
With all these feelings,
I'm Alone to wander
Alone to ponder
What should have been between us
Alone to cry
to smile
And all the while
Alone to discover
A world full of twisted beauty
The fears that I dream
of things that I should not say
But I'm alone with my dreams,
Alone each and every day
Alone in morning
Afternoon and the night
Alone without knowing...
Being alone is not right
I’m not satisfied
Thinking these thoughts like I do
When I know there is someone out there
Who is just as confused
But I’ll keep these emotions in check and hidden
This person doesn’t need to know how I felt,
And they don’t need to be forgiven
But for now...
I will continue alone
And stand alone...
For I’m not ready to have them back by my side
poem by April Swanson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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her name is Valentine
My Valentine has a lamp about and around her
She tells me an aura of atmosphere of kindness she found
That's when I reach across the table and grab her hand
'you see this grip', I said, 'It's able'
I make into kindness with grip of my hands to labor this thirsty land
to put kindness on this table
And that night was hot with anger
And my pillow alone she cast to my broken barn door
Under the stars, under broken large hole in roof
I fell asleep into kindness, into her dream...
I dream an aura of atmosphere of kindness, a sudden surprise
shining my Valentine's eyes
blinding my resistant
And came this moment... I saw this lamp
It was over full of love and it flowed out and following an empty lost
Something of a voice calling at me saying, 'this is rare and new'
'she initiates a lovely, loveliness flow into her smile for you'
As I thought about this, a current of warm, extraordinary and
satisfying breeze came across my face
An invisible scent and familiar taste
It was my Valentine, emerging into view
an emerald of breath light
making it known...
'I'm in love with you'
embroidering my heart to dreams I thought far apart
My voice again, speaking into my sleepy dream night
'Complementary and compatible like moon and starlight'
When the breaking into a new light arrives each morning
I do remember...
My Valentine's atmosphere of kindness she stirs
And I... about and all around her's
poem by Joseph Nez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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