Beatrice
There's fairies at the bottom of the garden
Beatrice said
And led her brother
Carefully amid the dew
'They use the water lillies for their bed'
'And lie in long grass so quitely out of view'
Her brother said, with a sigh
He thought she was quite crazy.
Oh, the secrets she could share
To change his mind.
He laughed aloud and nicknamed Beatrice
'Miss Fantasie'
One solitary flower was all the treasure
He would find.
So, beatrice with a tear
Was on her own
Nobody else could hear
Their sweetest tone.
And as twilight, still would bring
Many a golden gossamer wing
The world would only miss her when she'd flown.
High above the trees on spectral morning
They did take her
To a land of fragrant azure scented mist.
A sunlight now revealed their heaven dawning
And felt as if by petal she was kissed.
Euphoria of music, watching every colour glisten
Harlequin embroidered
Dress she wore so fair.
In silent cloud she'd float and in awe to beauty listen
The Princess in a land of love mystere.
And as her brother awoke
So early on the morrow
His Mother sat in kitchen, head in hands
'My baby's gone'
She kept repeating ion her sorrow
A 'hit and run'
Her life was done
Who understands?
So. yes, we know
That in her garden are no fairies.
But we know her best embroidered dress is gone.
And Beatrice calls on silent wind
- How sweet their care is.
Now there's a spirit in the trees
Where her light shone.
poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Holly Bush
The Holly Bush
It was in the depth of winter
When snow lay crisp upon the ground
That I saw the tiny creatures
Which fluttered all around.
I stepped into the garden
To see what the fuss was all about.
There was a fairy trapped in my holly bush
And her friends were trying to pull her out.
But the sharp leaves stabbed at wings
And they tangled up long hair
As the fairies attempted their rescue.
They weren’t getting anywhere.
The fairies saw me on the garden path
And that I was getting near
They hid behind my chimney stack
And cried aloud in fear.
‘Stop being silly now, ’ I told them
As I carefully pulled the fairy free.
‘My name is Buttercup’, she said
As she explained to me.
That she had been stealing the berries
To plant down in the wood
Because there was no holly left.
She was really trying to be good.
‘People like holly for Christmas
But some of them dig up all the trees.
They don’t leave anything for the birds
So, can we have some berries, please.’
I did not want my little friend
To take another fall
So I helped to pick some berries
And said I did not mind at all.
The other fairies came to thank me
Then taking a berry each, off they flew
But Buttercup waited by my side
There was something else she had to do.
She waved her hand up in the air
And her dress changed to green and red
‘This will remind me of your holly bush
And your kindness, ’ the fairy said.
So, if you find a fairy in your garden
With a dress of red and green
Please, allow her to steal some berries
For it is my friend that you have seen.
poem by Irene C S ClarkHogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sweet Music
Hear the choir
On the wind.
Soothe you
Like a rolling cloud.
Background,
To the migrant crowd
On the wing.
Sweet music
Echoes in everything.
Sunlight dancing
On blue bay.
Hula hula
Palm trees sway.
Garlands
Of a tuneful sky.
Spill their scented notes
On high.
Dripping into
Orchestras of the ocean.
Sweet music tango
In marine motion.
Muted trumpets
Greet the gladdened morn.
Golden ballet
Of sunflowers born.
Like Heaven's harp
Of gossamer string.
Sweet music
Echoes in everything.
poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Purer Than Pure Gold
O brother, purer than pure gold
Is the soil of my land.
Her soil and water
Her fruits and flowers
Quench our thirst and hunger.
as we drink from her milk-pot
To have the blessings of this Mother
Taking leftovers from her temples
Pilgrims are gratified, coming from various castes.
O brother prostrating on the dust of this land
Jewels fall down and welter,
O brother slumber of all in the world
Is broken by the touch of her magic stick.
Coating this soil and this mud
Learning from this land's good conduct
the whole world became civilized all the way
O brother this ascetic in every land
Put on the light out of love,
Mother wakes up alone through the dark night
Watching from the post of crematorium.
poem by Kazi Nazrul Islam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet: Spirit Of Love
I felt a spirit of love begin to stir
Within my heart, long time unfelt till then;
And saw Love coming towards me fair and fain
(That I scarce knew him for his joyful cheer),
Saying, 'Be now indeed my worshipper!'
And in his speech he laughed and laughed again.
Then, while it was his pleasure to remain,
I chanced to look the way he had drawn near,
And saw the Ladies Joan and Beatrice
Approach me, this the other following,
One and a second marvel instantly.
And even as now my memory speaketh this,
Love spake it then: 'The first is christened Spring;
The second Love, she is so like to me.'
poem by Dante Alighieri
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Brother Brother
Brother Brother
Please Come Back Home
I Wish We All Would Have Known
Brother Brother
Why Arent You Here?
You Diddnt Have Anything To Fear
Things Would Have Gotten Better
Throught This Past Painful Year
You Took Your Own Life Brother
Just Like So Many Others
Your Family Just Looks At Pictures And Has To Stare
Thats The Only Way We See You And Its Just Not Fair
We All Miss Your Big Smile
That You Had On Your Face Every Day
I Love You Sister
The Words You Said Every Single Day
I Miss The Way You HUgged Me
The Way You Would Always Be There
Now Once Again All I Do Is sit and Stare
poem by Heather Hesse
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On A Palmetto
Through all that year-scarred agony of height,
Unblest of bough or bloom, to where expands
His wandy circlet with his bladed bands
Dividing every wind, or loud or light,
To termless hymns of love and old despite,
Yon tall palmetto in the twilight stands,
Bare Dante of these purgatorial sands
That glimmer marginal to the monstrous night.
Comes him a Southwind from the scented vine,
It breathes of Beatrice through all his blades,
North, East or West, Guelph-wind or Ghibelline,
'Tis shredded into music down the shades;
All sea-breaths, land-breaths, systol, diastol,
Sway, minstrels of that grief-melodious Soul.
poem by Sidney Lanier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On A Summer’s Day
When high noon on a summer’s day
makes the sky a fiery furnace
and the heart seeks a quiet corner for dreams,
then come to me, my weary friend.
A shady carob grows in my garden –
green, remote from the city’s crowds –
whose foliage whispers secrets of God.
Good my brother, let’s take refuge.
Pleasure and tenderness let us share
in the sweet hidden prime of noon,
and the mystery golden rays reveal
when sunlight pierces the rich shade.
When the black cold of a winter’s night
bruises you with its icy pinch
and frost sticks knives in your shivering flesh,
then come to me, blessed of God.
My dwelling is modest, lacking splendour,
but warm and bright and open to strangers.
A fire’s in the grate, on the table a candle –
my lost brother, stay and get warm.
When we hear a cry in the howling storm
we will think of the destitute starving outside.
We will weep for them – honest pitiful tears.
Good friend, my brother, let us embrace.
But when autumn approaches with rain and cloud
and the roof leaks and there’s moth in the heart
and the desolate world sinks, sullen, in mire,
then merciful brother, leave me alone.
I would be alone in the barren time
when the heart withers in slow decay.
Unseen. Unknown. No stranger understands.
Let me grieve alone in my silent pain.
poem by Hayyim Nahman Bialik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Verses by Lady Geralda
Why, when I hear the stormy breath
Of the wild winter wind
Rushing o'er the mountain heath,
Does sadness fill my mind?
For long ago I loved to lie
Upon the pathless moor,
To hear the wild wind rushing by
With never ceasing roar;
Its sound was music then to me;
Its wild and lofty voice
Made by heart beat exultingly
And my whole soul rejoice.
But now, how different is the sound?
It takes another tone,
And howls along the barren ground
With melancholy moan.
Why does the warm light of the sun
No longer cheer my eyes?
And why is all the beauty gone
From rosy morning skies?
Beneath this lone and dreary hill
There is a lovely vale;
The purling of a crystal rill,
The sighing of the gale,
The sweet voice of the singing bird,
The wind among the trees,
Are ever in that valley heard;
While every passing breeze
Is loaded with the pleasant scent
Of wild and lovely flowers.
To yonder vales I often went
To pass my evening hours.
Last evening when I wandered there
To soothe my weary heart,
Why did the unexpected tear
From my sad eyelid start?
Why did the trees, the buds, the stream
Sing forth so joylessly?
And why did all the valley seem
So sadly changed to me?
I plucked a primrose young and pale
That grew beneath a tree
And then I hastened from the vale
Silent and thoughtfully.
Soon I was near my lofty home,
But when I cast my eye
Upon that flower so fair and lone
Why did I heave a sigh?
I thought of taking it again
To the valley where it grew.
But soon I spurned that thought as vain
And weak and childish too.
And then I cast that flower away
To die and wither there;
But when I found it dead today
Why did I shed a tear?
O why are things so changed to me?
What gave me joy before
Now fills my heart with misery,
And nature smiles no more.
And why are all the beauties gone
From this my native hill?
Alas! my heart is changed alone:
Nature is constant still.
For when the heart is free from care,
Whatever meets the eye
Is bright, and every sound we hear
Is full of melody.
The sweetest strain, the wildest wind,
The murmur of a stream,
To the sad and weary mind
Like doleful death knells seem.
Father! thou hast long been dead,
Mother! thou art gone,
Brother! thou art far away,
And I am left alone.
Long before my mother died
I was sad and lone,
And when she departed too
Every joy was flown.
But the world's before me now,
Why should I despair?
I will not spend my days in vain,
I will not linger here!
There is still a cherished hope
To cheer me on my way;
It is burning in my heart
With a feeble ray.
I will cheer the feeble spark
And raise it to a flame;
And it shall light me through the world,
And lead me on to fame.
I leave thee then, my childhood's home,
For all thy joys are gone;
I leave thee through the world to roam
In search of fair renown,
From such a hopeless home to part
Is happiness to me,
For nought can charm my weary heart
Except activity.
poem by Anne Brontë
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Detroit Medley
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Fe, fe, fi, fi, fo, fo, fum
Look at Molly now, here she come
Wearin' a wig, hat, shades to match
High healed sneakers and an aligator hat
Wearin' her diamons, wearin' a big ring
She got rasors on her fingers and everything
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Wearin' her perfume, Chanel number five
Got to be the finest looking woman alive
She looks so pretty every time she walks by
The boys are too nervous, even to say hi
Not too skinny, not too fat
She's a real humdinger and I like it like that
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Good golly Miss Molly, sure like to ball
Good golly Miss Molly, sure like to ball
When you're rockin' and rollin'
Don't you hear your mama call
From the early, early morning to the early, early night
See Miss Molly rockin' in the house of blue light
Good golly Miss Molly, sure like to ball
When you're rockin' and rollin'
Don't you hear your mama call
Well c., c.c. rider
Come on see just what you've done
Well I said c., c.c. rider
Come on see just what you've done
You made me loving you
And now, now, now your man has come
Well now I'm goin' c.c. rider
Goin' to see my baby c.c. rider
And I won't be back c.c. rider
B
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The homing bee
You are belted with gold, little brother of mine,
Yellow gold, like the sun
That spills in the west, as a chalice of wine
When feasting is done.
You are gossamer-winged, little brother of mine,
Tissue winged, like the mist
That broods where the marshes melt into a line
Of vapour sun-kissed.
You are laden with sweets, little brother of mine,
Flower sweets, like the touch
Of hands we have longed for, of arms that entwine,
Of lips that love much.
You are better than I, little brother of mine,
Than I, human-souled,
For you bring from the blossoms and red summer shine,
For others, your gold.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dearest Meaghan
Let me state my case, dearest Meaghan.
I know some have called me
most eligible bachelor on campus-
this ivory tower of the intellect,
where grown-up children frolic
day and night in bookish bliss;
but I am not the most eligible.
Meghan dear, let me tell you
of a most notable ancestor,
whose love for his Beatrice
transcended all. True, he wed
another, but his heart and soul
belonged to the love of his youth-
Beatrice, the woman who inspired
his epic poem, a divine comedy.
Dearest Meghan, you are my
Beatrice, my soul mate,
my sole inspiration!
When you visited me
at my humble abode
on Purgatory Lane
a week ago
you expressed the most
profound feelings for me,
dearest Meaghan!
I dream of that visit,
a visitation most heavenly!
Please meet me this evening
near the bell tower outside
the student commons
at eight o'clock.
Yours most affectionately,
(signature)
Danny Alighieri
Professor of English
Dodsworth Technical Institute
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Head The Call
Have you been listening, (Listen to the music)
Have you been sleeping (The sermon's in the music)
(The man standing next to you, he must surely be your brother)
(So brother please) heed the call
(The piper he's still piping)
The magic in the music
(The drummer he's still drumming)
The message in the music
(Sweet song of loving you should be singing)
(So brother please) heed the call
Listen to the music, Listen to the music
(Listen to the music) heed the call
(Listen to the music) heed the call
Heed the call of the music
Heed the call of the music
Heed the call of the music
Heed the call of the music
(It's still early in our morning)
There's still time for singing
Let's not waste our morning
Join in the singing
The outlaw of the midnight
He all too soon comes winging
(So brother please, please) heed the call
(Listen to the music) (Listen to the music) yeah
(Listen to the music) (Listen to the music) oh oh
(Listen to the music) oh oh oh (Listen to the music)
(Listen to the music)
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Pieces Of You In A Pair Of Dreams (chapter two)
'So, I've decided to write in this language, instead of my own,
not to madden you, but to make it less personal.
It was silly of me to think that in your eyes I'm more than the hero that killed your butterflies.
I can't even write.
Look at my poems.
They're ridiculously ugly, just like me.'
That night,
I saw the giant white moon reflected on your lips,
and I kissed It.
It tasted more like you, than like her.
It had your parfume too,
and the whole world was jelous,
on me and on you, for we were happy
like Romeo and Juliet, like Adam and Eve, like Tristan and Isolde, and like Dante and his Beatrice,
one meant for the other.
Wearing the black dress of night
you were like the queen of the giants,
a flower that huged the sun without the fear that has you now.
And now, well is different,
but I still write of your stories from the land of my dreams.
And as like before, when I write
I'm not brave, I'm just scared of calling you.
poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Gardener LXVIII: None Lives For Ever, Brother
None lives for ever, brother, and
nothing lasts for long. Keep that in
mind and rejoice.
Our life is not the one old burden,
our path is not the one long
journey.
One sole poet has not to sing one
aged song.
The flower fades and dies; but he
who wears the flower has not to
mourn for it for ever.
Brother, keep that in mind and
rejoice.
There must come a full pause to
weave perfection into music.
Life droops toward its sunset to be
drowned in the golden shadows.
Love must be called from its play
to drink sorrow and be borne to the
heaven of tears.
Brother, keep that in min and
rejoice.
We hasten to gather our flowers lest
they are plundered by the passing
winds.
It quickens our blood and brightens
our eyes to snatch kisses that would
vanish if we delayed.
Our life is eager, our desires are keen,
for time tolls the bell of parting.
Brother, keep that in mind and
rejoice.
There is not time for us to clasp a
thing and crush it and fling it away to
the dust.
The hours trip rapidly away, hiding
their dreams in their skirts.
Our life is short; it yields but a
few days for love.
Were it for work and drudgery it
would be endlessly long.
Brother, keep that in mind and
rejoice.
Beauty is sweet to us, because she
dances to the same fleeting tune with
our lives.
Knowledge is precious to us, because
we shall never have time to
complete it.
All is done and finished in the eternal
Heaven.
But earth's flowers of illusion are
kept eternally fresh by death.
Brother, keep that in mind and
rejoice.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Answers
What is the end of each man's toil,
Brother, O Brother?
A handful of dust in a bit of soil-
His name forgotten as centuries roll,
Though blazoned to-day on Glory's scroll;
For the lordliest work of brain or hand
Is only an imprint made on sand;
When the tidal wave sweeps over the shore
It is there no more,
Brother, my Brother.
Then what is the use of striving at all,
Brother, O Brother?
Because each effort or great or small
Is a step on the long, long road that leads
To the Kingdom of Growth on the River of Deeds:
And that is the kingdom no man can gain
Till he uses his hand and his mind and brain,
And when he has used them and learned control
He finds his soul,
Brother, my Brother.
And after he finds it, what is the end,
Brother, O Brother?
Upward ever its course and trend;
For this is the purpose and aim and plan
To seek in the soul for the Super-man-
The man who is conscious that Heaven is near-
A bulletin bearer from There to Here,
Finding God dwells in the spirit within
Where He ever has been,
Brother, my Brother.
And what will the God-man do when He comes,
Brother, O Brother?
He will better the world or in courts or slums,
He will do in gladness his nearest duty:
He will teach the religion of love and beauty
In field or factory, mine or mart,
While He tells the world of the larger part
And the wider life that is yet to be
When spirit is free,
Brother, my Brother.
When spirit is free, then where will it go,
Brother, O Brother?
Its uttermost summit no man may know,
For it goes up to God in His holy Tower
To gather more knowledge and force and power;
Like a ray of the sun it shall shine again
To brighten new planets and races of men.
Life had no beginning, life has no end,
Brother and friend-
Brother, my Brother.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Funeral of the Late Prince Henry of Battenberg
Alas! Prince Henry of Battenberg is dead!
And, I hope, has gone to heaven, its streets to tread,
And to sing with God's saints above,
Where all is joy and peace and love.
'Twas in the year of 1896, and on the 5th of February,
Prince Henry was buried at Whippingham- a solemn sight to see.
As the funeral moved off, it was a very impressive sight-
First came the military, and police, and volunteers from the Isle of Wight.
Then came the carriage party of the Scots Guards;
While the people uncovered their heads as it passed onwards
And many of them did sob and sigh
When the gun carriage with the coffin was passing by.
Prince Henry's charger was led by Richter, his stud groom;
And depicted in the people's faces there was a sad gloom
When they saw the noble charger of the dead-
It seemed that all joy from them had fled.
The Queen's carriage was followed by the Princess of Wales, and other Princesses,
All clad in gorgeous mourning dresses;
And there was a number of military representatives, which enhanced the scene;
And as the procession moved along it was solemn in the extreme.
Her Majesty looked very sad and serene,
Leaning back in her carriage could plainly be seen;
And the carriage was drawn by a pair of greys in grand harness;
And Her Majesty seemed to be in deep distress.
By Her Majesty's side sat the Princess Beatrice
And the two younger Battenberg children, looking very nice;
And by the coffin walked the elder Prince, immediately
Between Prince Louis and Prince Joseph, holding their hands tenderly.
The "Dead March" was played by the Marine Band;
And the music was solemn and very grand,
And accompanied by the roll of muffled drums;
Whilst among the spectators were heard sighs and hums.
And when the procession arrived at the church of Whippingham,
Then the coffin was carried inside- of the good man-
And was then laid in its resting place,
While sorrow was depicted in every face.
Then there was the firing of guns, with their earthly Thunder
Which made the people start and wonder;
And the tolling of the village bells,
While the solemn music on the air swells.
And the people said, "Prince Henry was a good man,
But now he's laid low in the church of Whippingham."
But when the Grim King his dart does throw,
None can escape death, high or low.
The funeral service was certainly very nice-
Which was by the request of Princess Beatrice-
Which was the rendering of Sullivan's anthem, "Brother, before us thou art gone"-
I hope unto thy heavenly home.
No Doubt the Princess Beatrice will mourn for him-
But to mourn for the dead it is a sin!
Therefore I hope God will comfort her always,
And watch o'er her children night and day.
Prince Henry was a God-fearing man-
And to deny it few people can-
And very kind to his children dear,
And for the loss of him they will drop a tear.
His relatives covered the coffin lid with wreaths of flowers,
While adown their cheeks flowed tears in showers.
Then the service concluded with "Christ will gather His own";
And each one left with a sad heart and went home.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Gothic Wuthering Heights In Ghost Nights
Gothic souls roam
eternal moors spirit
passion birth land
beauty etched
in tempest mist
weathered soul banshee land
wind etched
into trees our youth love bent
into passions land
heather hues red
yellow green mist
purple blue moor moves land
skies cloud lit
dying red crimson yellow soul
rainstorm bound
wild places silent
haunting soul
music is centuries echo in ghost land
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
There's so much more to life than that, though I think that acting is fascinating because you can forget your own sorrow as you act and become somebody else.
quote by Beatrice Wood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Lover, Brother
Are you my brother or lover, brother?
don´t be my mother lover!
kiss you my brother lover
can´t be your mother, brother
never found you in the arms of another
Are you my lover, brother?
don´t touch my mother lover!
kiss you and not another
find out the love to your mother, brother
don´t even mistreat my brother, mother
Are you like my brother, lover?
don´t hate my mother lover!
kiss me instead of my mother, brother
not even be afraid of my brother, mother
we are the same but another
Are you my friend sweet brother?
please get in touch with my lover!
but do not kiss each other, brother
´cause he´s my lover, brother
treat him as your brother, my lover
Why aren´t lovers like brothers?
why mothers not like lovers!
kissing my man and not another, brother
but love you too my mother, never another
together we can treat us like brothers, brother.
@floydfloydson
(c) uni-verse.de 12.20.2011
poem by Floyd Floydson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Most Of All
I see our stars tonight
Do you recall that light
Or do you ever think of me
And in your world somewhere
Do memories rip and tear
The ones that always keep you hanging on
To all that might have been
[Chorus1:]
And I love you now
And I hate you now
And I miss you most of all
All those times we laughed
The scars that you left
Still I miss you most of all
And by the water's side
The tall grass where we lied
The nights we cried ourselves to sleep
Most Septembers now
I break down somehow
Remembering all we said
And all those dreams we never got to see
[Chorus2:]
And I love you now
And I hate you now
And I miss you most of all
And did you ever find
The scar in your mind
Or do you miss me most of all
Are you somewhere
Without a care
Or are you as alone as I
Did you ever make it home
yeahea! Uhh huh!
And I miss you most of all
And I miss you now
And I miss you now, yeahea!
[Chorus2]
song performed by by Fuel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!