Dreams
There is naught in the pathless reach
Of the pale, blue sky above,
There is naught that the stars tell, each to each,
As over the heavens they rove;
That I have not felt, or have not seen
Clad in dull earth or fancy's sheen.
There is naught, in the still, mauve twilight
When the dreams come flitting by,
From lands afar of eternal night,
Or lands of the sunswept sky,
For countless spirits within me dwell
With heaven's efflugence or dark hell.
poem by Joseph Seamon Cotter
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXXII
FROM THE FRENCH OF ANVERS
My heart has its secret, my soul its mystery,
A love which is eternal begotten in a day.
The ill is long past healing. Why should I speak to--day?
For none have ears to hear, and, least of all, she.
Alas I shall have lived unseen tho' ever near,
For ever at her side, for ever too alone.
I shall have lived my life unknowing and unknown,
Asking naught, daring naught, receiving naught from her.
And she, whom Heaven made kind and chaste and fair,
Shall go undoubting on, the while upon her way
The murmur of my love shall fill the land,
Till, reading here perchance severe and unaware
These lines so full of her, she shall look up and say
``Who was this woman then?'' and shall not understand.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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The Glory
The glory of the beauty of the morning, -
The cuckoo crying over the untouched dew;
The blackbird that has found it, and the dove
That tempts me on to something sweeter than love;
White clouds ranged even and fair as new-mown hay;
The heat, the stir, the sublime vacancy
Of sky and meadow and forest and my own heart: -
The glory invites me, yet it leaves me scorning
All I can ever do, all I can be,
Beside the lovely of motion, shape, and hue,
The happiness I fancy fit to dwell
In beauty's presence. Shall I now this day
Begin to seek as far as heaven, as hell,
Wisdom or strength to match this beauty, start
And tread the pale dust pitted with small dark drops,
In hope to find whatever it is I seek,
Hearkening to short-lived happy-seeming things
That we know naught of, in the hazel copse?
Or must I be content with discontent
As larks and swallows are perhaps with wings?
And shall I ask at the day's end once more
What beauty is, and what I can have meant
By happiness? And shall I let all go,
Glad, weary, or both? Or shall I perhaps know
That I was happy oft and oft before,
Awhile forgetting how I am fast pent,
How dreary-swift, with naught to travel to,
Is Time? I cannot bite the day to the core.
poem by Edward Thomas
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Comrade
We naught six yet never four
compact at times of fall or soar
could penetrate aloft than core
yes! the bond none could bore
To step on fire or over planks
fear; we hath none-as gathered all
To leave the tracks on river banks
on deep waters, through that shoal!
How naught apart the heart and souls.
why back the faded track we go?
Unnoticed naught the far set goals
though aloft, yet live earthy-low
Moments as people dreamed to Luna;
paths were often lead to point.
all sought so much lithe persona;
His, Her prejudice has joint
The sobbing of the sun on parting,
the grinning of the stars at night.
The pain on back of pretty smiling,
was not joker's but Donald's fright.
To unjust sight, sought merely waste
to weary eyes 'twas gold
The chemical bond abides no caste
Afore them, We stand Bold.
The freezing period of Dark eclipse
Bothers not our dwell-
-them, Whose lives were in ellipse,
to ransom them from hell.
His avid tongue to destroy
to delet the barely known existence
His tricky motions on decoy
To burgeon all of our hindrance!
Seldom not, we entice unite
seldom not, the great escapades
naught even destiny could fight
The longing laughter of comrades.
poem by Ellirie Aviles
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In this world of change naught which comes stays and naught which goes is lost.
quote by Madame Swetchine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happy New Year ’09
Happy New Year naught nine!
Let’s hope things will be fine;
Let’s work harder and shine;
Let’s dance, sing and drink wine.
Let peace come to all towns;
Let love dwell in all homes;
Let wars never happen;
Let’s fight terrorism.
Happy New Year naught nine!
May God bless all nations!
May love fill hearts and minds;
May earth turn paradise!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-31-2008
poem by John Celes
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At the close of the day when the hamlet is still, and mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove, when naught but the torrent is heard on the hill, and naught but the nightingale's song in the grove.
quote by James Beattie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No louder than the snoring tigers lolling tongue!
O’ my sleeping; weeping, thoughts.
Were like army blankets, you and I
observing; naught but sunbeams...
Naught...
But the lintel iron moonbeams,
under—which no one listens.
Nor speaks—but gibberish
No one sleeps, no one, dreams.
But even so’ it’s a sentry’s landscape
that’s foolhardy bold as any heaven
that’s nonsensical, as any song,
Sung in rhyme—one learns to love.
(That’s as still, as any silence
Hammering... in the darkened thereafter.)
“My own horrors anthem shot shall roar an alarm”...
No louder than the snoring tigers lolling tongue!
poem by Mark Heathcote
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An Immorality
Sing we for love and idleness,
Naught else is worth the having.
Though I have been in many a land,
There is naught else in living.
And I would rather have my sweet,
Though rose-leaves die of grieving,
Than do high deeds in Hungary
To pass all men's believing.
poem by Ezra Pound
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Twas Called Destiny
Day after day of our depart
Felt like souls were so apart
torn the bleeding of gloomy heart
'twas none false rather an art
Lie mine glimpse of her and thoughts
'twas not blue but evergreen
thus I realize 'twas thy-naught
mine dearest, Dulcinea, Queen
I-naught God to change that part
Our lives' novel yet to start
Sought mine princess, eye's of mine darling
evergreen, yet blood & immortal beating
Mine notorious canvas painted smile
barely truth, yet never a wile
the actress shalt never be the character
The beating's integration'll never dissever
As long as hands weren't held to hands
you'd hear my cry in thine dream lands
My beseech'Hey juliet! wanna be thine romeo! '
Listen close, for 'twas beating like stereo
Blind, I'm stepping my way to thee
Shoe by shoe, to my dream come true
Again if vision meet, 'twas no serendipity
'twasn't just fortunate, it's our destiny.
poem by Ellirie Aviles
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Nothing
Pain
All consuming
Like a fire
I can't breathe
There's nothing left
What have you done?
My hands are shaking
I can't sit still
My mind is racing
My heart is breaking
Strangled gasps
Heart races
It's all a blur
Where am I?
What happened?
Who are you?
You stole my breath
My mind
My heart
My body
Are you a thief?
Are you a liar?
Who is it that can do something so small,
Yet so large
That I have nothing left
Only pain
Only rage
Only hurt
Only tears
Only blood
Only fears
Only death
Have you stolen everything?
Or is my life still left?
I hear naught
I see naught
I feel naught
I smell naught
I taste naught
Am I nothing?
Are you nothing?
There's nothing left
I sense nothing
I know nothing
This must mean I am nothing
It must mean you are nothing
Am I nobody?
Like a myth
Like a legend
Like a story
Does this make everything I've said
And done
And felt
Unreal
Like a dream
Or a story
Or a thought
So it never happened?
You didn't make me love you?
You didn't hurt me?
You didn't make me cry?
Make me bleed?
Make me suffer?
You didn't leave me there
On the street
On a sidewalk
So I could bleed out?
You didn't hold a knife?
You didn't violate me?
You didn't kill me?
You didn't walk away?
You didn't lie?
I didn't exist meaning
You didn't exist so
You must not have
Meaning
I am not dead because
I just never existed
And you are not alive
Because you never existed
We are just nothing
poem by Gwenevere Cornwell
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The Eagle Eyed Croupier - Parody Alfred TENNYSON – The Eagle
He spins cooked wheel with crookèd hands,
close[d]) to true sum in sunny lands,
ring’d by a green baize world, he stands.
“Les jeux sonts faits…! ” he often calls,
wry, watches stakes increase till falls
Fate's rich ball, stalled, which naught recalls.
for previous version see below
The Eagle Eyed Croupier - Parody Alfred TENNYSON – The Eagle
He spins the wheel with crookèd hands,
close to the sum in sunny lands,
ring’d with a verdant world, he stands.
“Les jeux sonts faits…! ” he often calls,
he watches stakes mount up till falls
the ball of Fate which naught recalls.
17 December 1991
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Too Sparsely The Light Falls
Too sparsely the light falls through the window on that day,
in splashes here and there, with the park invisible,
with light fading away and suddenly the dark night comes
with stars shining blue-white.
Away into the naught the light of an aeroplane flashes,
when the night bends far over the horizon
and it feels as if God Himself is here,
stretching Him out over the earthly events.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Heavens In Here
Baby I dream between the blade and the tongue
Of the rose on your cheek the wounded and dumb
We stumble and fall we stumble and fall
Skin on skin but theres heaven in
Heavens in here
Heavens in her
Among the twilight and star
Like a rocket to mars
Heaven in here
The first and the last are telling it all
Telling you loud but selling it small
Im taking a swing at this shadow of mine
Crucifix hangs an my hearts in my mouth
But its here
Heavens in here
Heavens in her
Among the twilight and stars
Like a rocket to mars
Heavens in here
Feeling it wanting
Mm mm m
Heaven in
Heaven lies between your marbled thighs
The rustle of your falling gown
We stumble and fall like tragedy falls
We stumble and twirl theres heaven in here
We stumble and fall uncertain we fall
Theres flesh on flesh but theres heaven in
Heavens in here
Heavens in here
Heavens in here
Among the twilight and stars
Like a rocket to mars
Heavens in here
Youll dance to my tongue
Well dance on the sun
Were the twilight and stars
And theres heaven in here
Heaven
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ever-beguiling Smile
The ever-beguiling smile,
Shall luminesce all the while-
Ever radiant, powerful beyond measure,
Mine to purvey and treasure!
Many have been entranced by such,
Know do I at least this much-
Our's is made better for its radiance
Naught exists as measure to its brilliance!
My world, brightened by mere thought
Of all to us this has brought!
Alas, as if the Heavens smile through thee
Its quantum, naught is there, to me!
Angels nary could provide more for pause
Than what your smile, in me, does cause!
Maurice Harris,22 February 2009
poem by Maurice Harris
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Naught's a naught and figger's a figger - all for the white man and none for the nigger.
My Father’s Son
Once
when I was still a baby boy
obsessed, thrilled with dark night sky
father said, shut your eyes tightly
then sailed I into dark night sky
dreaming of my arms
dipping in deep, dark-blue velvety
palpating golden sheen of the golden full moon
snatching twinkling stars.
But
i fell like lead
just before hard ground
to my father’s arms- veinated, calloused
his chirped nails safely grabbed
then
i opened my eyes
stretching my empty arms, pink nails
for a earnest glimpse of
a dip of deep, dark-blue velvety
golden sheen of the golden full moon
snatched twinkling stars.
and I felt sad.
Then-
father buried his head on my nape
his grizzly beard tickling my face
making little ‘blurp’ ‘blurp’ sounds
my shrill laughter
accosting his deep throaty laughter
echoing my disappointment into dark night sky
before sailing me into dark night sky
back to his rough-gentle arms
again
again
and again
to dip in deep, dark-blue velvety
palpate golden sheen of the golden full moon
snatching twinkling stars.
“Drink all Ma’s omena* soup
to be taller, reach the dark night sky”
father said, following my gaze
into the dark night sky
static radio bleating reggae
golden full moon bathing us in golden sheen
just me and my father
sleeping in his rough-gentle arms
dreaming of my arms
dipping in deep, dark-blue velvety
palpating golden sheen of the golden full moon
snatching twinkling stars
poem by Manuel Odeny
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The Amaranth
Ah, in the night, all music haunts me here. . . .
Is it for naught high Heaven cracks and yawns
And the tremendous Amaranth descends
Sweet with the glory of ten thousand dawns?
Does it not mean my God would have me say: —
"Whether you will or no, O city young,
Heaven will bloom like one great flower for you,
Flash and loom greatly all your marts among?"
Friends, I will not cease hoping though you weep.
Such things I see, and some of them shall come
Though now our streets are harsh and ashen-gray,
Though our strong youths are strident now, or dumb.
Friends, that sweet town, that wonder-town, shall rise.
Naught can delay it. Though it may not be
Just as I dream, it comes at last I know
With streets like channels of an incense-sea.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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All For Naught, I Do Not Believe
Naught did I possess any seer, for my abject fear,
Naught are there any here-to see, as I tear!
My best friend has been corrupted,
My entire life, completely, tragically interrupted!
For what reason might be this the case?
Pain has been caused, ne'er to be erased
Drunketh was I, from the cup of my life-
Joined at my festival, by the one who was to be my Wife!
Severed from my family, as though something wrong, I had done!
Falsity was causal to this pain, known to all, but for the one!
Wheresoever she may wander, back to reason,
So too may she allow for the changing of her pain's season!
All for naught, I do not believe-part of His plan-
Each day which passes, I grow more, to understand!
Maurice Harris,23 December 2007
poem by Maurice Harris
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All Pervading Consciousness
And as His Essence all the world pervades
Naught in Creation is, save this alone.
Upon the waters has He fixed His Throne,
This earth suspended in the starry space,
Yet what are seas and what is air? For all
Is God, and but a talisman are heaven and earth
To veil Divinity. For heaven and earth,
Did He not permeate them, were but names;
Know then, that both this visible world and that
Which unseen is, alike are God Himself,
Naught is, save God: and all that is, is God.
And yet, alas! by how few is He seen,
Blind are men's eyes, though all resplendent shines
The world by Deity's own light illumined,
0 Thou whom man perceiveth not, although
To him Thou deignest to make known Thyself;
Thou all Creation art, all we behold, but Thou,
The soul within the body lies concealed,
And Thou dost hide Thyself within the soul,
0 soul in soul! Myst'ry in myst'ry hid!
Before all wert Thou, and are more than all!
poem by Farid ud-Din Attar Abu Hamid bin Abu Bakr Ibrahim
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