For The Reader's Ear
No, that was not passion,
It was the vague tenderness
Inspired by a sickly child,
Lang syne, and moon pale nights.
The spirit sings only
When the heart is moved,
When, shaken by love’s power, it trembles,
Broods, draws back, says not a word.
True passion might in fact
Have been…these pages,
That were they written in happier times
Would have appeared as tears, not verses.
poem by Jose Asuncion Silva
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Related quotes
Auld Lang Syne
(r.burns)
Traditional new years eves song. jeff performed it live at mercury lounge, new york, on december 31 1995.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And auld lang syne!
For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
Well tak a cup o kindness yet
For auld lang syne.
And surely yell be your pint stowp
And surely Ill be mine!
And well tak a cup o kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
Well tak a cup o kindness yet
For auld lang syne.
We twa hae run about the braes
And poud the gowans fine
But weve wanderd mony a weary fit
Sin auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
Well tak a cup o kindness yet
For auld lang syne.
We twa hae paidld in the burn
Frae morning sun till dine
But seas between us briad hae roard
Sin auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
Well tak a cup o kindness yet
For auld lang syne.
And theres a hand, my trusty fere
And gies a hand o thine
And well tak a right gude-willie waught
For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
Well tak a cup o kindness yet
For auld lang syne.
song performed by by Jeff Buckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Starlight Night
We lay hand in hand, head to head, eye to eye
The stars staring down, as if they were in envy
The moon radiating light upon us, as if it we were a showcase
The passion which was united, a passion of true love
Passion which wrote upon paper, can never portray my passion for you
True passion is like a song, A never ending list of cords and notes
An innovation of a creative mind, written from the soul and heart
A never ending canvas of joys and memories
True passion can never die, it can never fade away, for it lies deep down
You are my true passion, my true calling, my true love
poem by Michael James Kennedy Findlay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Auld Lang Syne
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And days of auld lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
Well take a cup o kindness yet
For auld lang syne.
We twa hae run aboot the braes
And poud the gowans fine;
Weve wanderd mony a weary foot
Sin auld lang syne.
We two hae paidled i the burn,
Frae mornin sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roard
Sin auld lang syne.
And heres a hand, my trusty friend,
And gies a hand o thine;
Well take a cup o kindness yet
For auld lang syne.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And days of auld lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
Well take a cup o kindness yet
For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
Well take a cup o kindness yet
For auld lang syne.
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Auld Lang Syne
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne ?
CHORUS
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
And surely ye’ll be your pint-stoup !
and surely I’ll be mine !
And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
CHORUS
We twa hae run about the braes,
and pou’d the gowans fine ;
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fit,
sin’ auld lang syne.
CHORUS
We twa hae paidl’d in the burn,
frae morning sun till dine ;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
sin’ auld lang syne.
CHORUS
And there’s a hand my trusty fiere !
and gies a hand o’ thine !
And we’ll tak a right gude-willie waught,
for auld lang syne.
CHORUS
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Majnun wrote Laili a love letter,
Anita, read Laili**B
That ran to several pages,
That contained only one word Laili.
Were it only Laili? More than that,
That she knew, his passion and love.
I wrote you several verses,
That ran for several months and years.
They had passion, love, anguish, agony,
Pang, pining, adulation, and slavery.
For Laili, one word had been enough.
For you, were not they enough?
07.01.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Plastic Passion
Plastic passion is a hard to handle
Plastic passion is a sold out scandal
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is the ladies lover
Plastic passion is the marble mother
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a diamond delight
Plastic passion is the nadir of night
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a hycoscine heart
Plastic passion is a transparent tart
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a gold guarantee
The plastic passion is murdering me
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Screams Of Passion
Performed by the family
{from the family (1985)}
Woah, no. woah, yeah.
Woah, no, woah no, yeah, yeah
Theres a gentle autumn breeze
That blows whenever we be lyin
Lyin in my bed
The moon appears and disappears
U look at me, my clothes I quickly
I quickly shed
The curtains dance a minuet
Autumn plays the music baby
Come on hold my hand
Leaves are fallin velvet splash
Only u and I can under
Only u can understand
The sunlight draws a picture
Through the silky lace that hangs above your
Hangs above your door
A picture that is waving
That is seems to be with every thrust
U make me beg for more
A robin sings a masterpiece
That lives and dies unheard
For screams of passion
A sound produced by two in love (oh, two in love)
Curtains dance and autumn plays on (and on and on)
The screams of passion
All I hear in my [head/hair]
Echoing like a volcano baby
The screams of passion
Back and forth the raging seas of lust
I want u madly
Cant u tell, cant u tell
Cant u tell, cant u tell, ow!
Take me in your arms, oh baby
The crime is done
Id rather die here in your
Screams of passion (woah, hold me now, baby)
Tell me that u [want/love] me (tell me that u [want/love] me)
Is it sunday or is it passion?
The screams of passion (the screams of passion, yeah)
The screams of... the screams of...
The screams of passion (passion)
Yeah! (shhh, not so loud, baby)
Yeah! (shhh, shhh)
The screams of passion
The screams of passion
The screams of passion
The screams of... the screams of...
The screams of passion
The screams of passion
Back and forth the raging seas of lust
Raging, raging (the screams of passion)
U know I want u madly, baby
Why cant u tell?
Is it sunday?
I thought I heard a churchbell (or was it passion? )
Passion (yeah, yeah)
Passion
The screams of passion
Whatd u say baby?
Excuse me but is that your passion?
Do u want my passion?
Do u want my passion?
If u want my love
If u want my body baby
Let me hear u... let me hear u... let...
Let me hear u scream
I want some passion
U know what Im talkin about baby?
I want some passion
U got that baby?
I want some passion
Passion
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas Auld Lang Syne
When mistletoe and tinsel glow
Paint a yuletide valentine
Back home I go to those I know
For a christmas auld lang syne
And as we gather round the tree
Our voices all combine
In sweet accord to thank our lord
For a christmas auld lang syne
When sleigh bells ring and choirs sing
And the childrens faces shine
With each new toy we share their joy
With a christmas auld lang syne
We sing his praise this day of days
And pray next year this time
Well all be near to share the cheer
Of a christmas auld lang syne
In sweet accord to thank our lord
For a christmas auld lang syne
song performed by by Gloria Estefan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pain And Tenderness
She pours from me
Onto the page.
My heart beats alone in a cage.
My bleeding pen
Flashes in rage.
Yet knows
That I can never address
The true pain
And the tenderness.
She soars from me
Into the skies.
She claws from me
Every disguise.
Yet bathes my aching soul
As it dies.
My passion
Like a speeding express.
In a dungeon
I lay and obsess
About the true pain
And tenderness.
She flies from me
In empty sunset.
She cries on me
From clouds above.
Her kiss
And that smokey red dress,
Fill my morning
With visions of soft caress.
And scent of love.
Yet my words
Lack the pain and tenderness
Of the first sunrise.
What's written on the page
Is written in the eyes.
poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Where Is My Passion
Where is my passion
Far too much pain
Where is my passion
Must I love in vain?
Where is my passion
I need must know
Where is my passion
I want so much to grow
Where is my passion
Lost in your lips
Where is my passion
I feel for your kiss
Where is my passion
Lost in your eyes
Where is my passion
Release me to fly
Where is my passion
There in your hands
Where is my passion
Touch me…expand
Where is my passion
Please…be a man
poem by Fleurette Elaine Harris
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The things I love with a passion
I rock and roll with passion
I talk out my soul with a passion
I eat good food with passion
I defeat bad mood with a passion
I sleep well with passion
I weep hell with a passion
I dream endlessly with passion
I gleam ceaselessly with a passion
I aim for money with passion
I do the same for honey with a passion
I listen carefully with passion
I glisten dutifully with a passion
I search for fame with passion
I research to blame with a passion
I walk everyday with passion
I talk and play with a passion
I embrace life with passion
I face nightlife with a passion
I laugh out with passion
I chaffe about with a passion
I cook with others with passion
I look at mothers with a passion
I touch gently with passion
I clutch tightly with a passion
I work hard with a passion
I rock mad with a passion
I gear up goals with passion
I stir up roles with a passion
I make friends with passion
I take weekends with a passion
I love kissing with passion
I love teasing with a passion
I make love with passion
I take from above with a passion
If push comes to shove
Label me old fashioned
For these are things I caption
In life with all my passion
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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A Girl Called Passion
Dreaming my life one day at a time,
Thinking of what I did was wrong or insane.
Thinking of you how you were always so true,
I know you was always in motions,
And someone told me you name is passion.
So I want you to know that I was born to love you,
Each day of my life is meant to be looking at the moon.
Love is like magic and it always will be,
My love still remains strong as never did.
Love works in ways that are passion and strange,
And there's nothing in life that love cannot change.
Passion can transform you Into beauty and splendour,
Your sweetness and grace can be always tender.
Your passion is unselfish, understanding and kind,
I love you with my heart and with my mind.
Your passion is the answer that everyone seeks,
Passion is the language, that every everyone speaks.
Dreaming my life one day at a time,
Thinking of what I did was wrong or insane.
Thinking of you how you were always so true,
I know you was always in motions,
And someone told me you name is passion.
poem by Gianni Pintus
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An Unpraised Picture
I SAW a picture once by Angelo.
“Unfinished,” said the critic; “done in youth;”
And that was all, no thought of praise, forsooth!
He was informed, and doubtless it was so.
And yet, I let an hour of dreaming go
The way of all time, touched to tears and ruth,
Passion and joy, the prick of conscience’ tooth,
Before that careworn Christ’s divine, soft glow.
The painter’s yearning with an unsure hand
Had moved me more than might his master days;
He seemed to speak like one whose Meccaland
Is first beheld, though faint and far the ways;
Who may not then his shaken voice command,
Yet trembles forth a word of prayer and praise.
poem by Richard Francis Burton
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Passion Is Power Transformative
passion creates no choice
passion productivity produce
passion desire compels excels
passion is power transformative
passion is creation seductive
passion is emotive abilities
passion is mind romance
poem by Terence George Craddock
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To An Old Mate
Old Mate! In the gusty old weather,
When our hopes and our troubles were new,
In the years spent in wearing out leather,
I found you unselfish and true --
I have gathered these verses together
For the sake of our friendship and you.
You may think for awhile, and with reason,
Though still with a kindly regret,
That I've left it full late in the season
To prove I remember you yet;
But you'll never judge me by their treason
Who profit by friends -- and forget.
I remember, Old Man, I remember --
The tracks that we followed are clear --
The jovial last nights of December,
The solemn first days of the year,
Long tramps through the clearings and timber,
Short partings on platform and pier.
I can still feel the spirit that bore us,
And often the old stars will shine --
I remember the last spree in chorus
For the sake of that other Lang Syne,
When the tracks lay divided before us,
Your path through the future and mine.
Through the frost-wind that cut like whip-lashes,
Through the ever-blind haze of the drought --
And in fancy at times by the flashes
Of light in the darkness of doubt --
I have followed the tent poles and ashes
Of camps that we moved further out.
You will find in these pages a trace of
That side of our past which was bright,
And recognise sometimes the face of
A friend who has dropped out of sight --
I send them along in the place of
The letters I promised to write.
poem by Henry Lawson
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I Wish I Knew...
I wish I knew what passion felt like,
To wake up and feel the passion to be happy and to love.
Passion is the eagerness to wake up with the light.
And passion is what fights the dark every night.
I don’t think I have ever known true passion,
But that wont stop me from seeking it like an impossible mission.
To search for the one that will show me that,
True passion is what life’s really about.
poem by Cristina Richardson
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Nights Of Passion
Night of passion, the day of feelings,
you see my smile, you see my joy
you Filled my dreams, you fill my empty sadness,
my night with you, my day with to you
Your passion, my sweet passion,
You wish my eternal wish, i wish your eternal wish,
Nights to love, those are nights of passion.
poem by Juan Duarte
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It is a fact often observed, that men have written good verses under the inspiration of passion, who cannot write well under other circumstances.
quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Night
My voice, to which love lends a tenderness and yearing,
Disturbs night's dreamy calm ... Pale at my bedside burning,
A taper wastes away ... From out my heart there surge
Stift verses, streams of love, that hum and sing and merge.
And, full of you, rush on, with passion overflowing.
I seem to see your eyes that, in the darkness glowing,
Meet mine ... I see your smile ... You speak to me alone:
My friend, my dearest friend ... I'm your's ... your own.
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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Let Go The Passion
memories come and go,
my rocking chair work out the flow.
Sweet fire keep the cold heart warm,
away from blurry past and the storm.
Sweet child she was, so,
crawling here and there and go.
I remember when settled in my arms,
that smile, ever full of charms.
Let go the passion, man,
this is not your track or way.
Let go the passion, man,
no rerun of times or replay.
Growing up so fast now,
spreading love by the vow.
Hatred didn't know this place,
that lies inside her with the grace.
A teenager now, full of hopes,
full of dreams beyond my scopes.
You became like her number one fan,
you're thirty and she's ninteen, man.
Let go the passion, man,
this is not your track or way.
Let go the passion, man,
no rerun of times or replay.
Looks like a taboo of some sort,
no touch, no smile of that sort.
The sleeping beauty that I missed,
is a full grown woman out of nest.
Her own house, her own man,
her own universe is on the span.
Same laughter still shine through,
despite the age, she really never grew.
Let go the passion, man,
this is not your track or way.
Let go the passion, man,
no rerun of times or replay.
Let go the passion man,
your hopes are not for today.
Let go the passion man,
your dreams, down should lay.
down, should lay...
poem by Taher Shemaly
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