Beauty Discreet

red, with silvery glitter,
thy move my hand I jitter
to write these words of love, and litter
thy hearts charms on thy somber face
the holy writ of effeminate grace
veiled by whites of angel lace
Doth beauty hide
Somewhere inside
Thy look doth confide
In chaste secreet
Thou live discreet
Thy beauty underneath
in love beneath...

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Thine Beauty

I bath myself with thy beauty thine
To conceal myself under thee
Warm flesh molded from beauty divine
Solaces pain that inhabits me
I live for you to live free
Gracious, graceful thy sweetly give
All thine love to live in me
By thine beauty with beauty does my love live
So if thou love me like thou say
Thou know that it's thee
That thy beauty and love doth play
In you and in me
Reflecting always in each other's mind
Thine beauty and love, we doth always find…

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O love thou create

O love thou create and thou destroy
The innocent girl, the innocent boy
Tis in love that is, that lover's dwell
In foolish love fallen in foolish spell
One in love makes two hearts grow
None in love, and love stills show
On the melancholic face of beauty
In between the lines of poetry
Painted on the grace of Mary
Soaring on the wing of love's ferry
It's love's spell our life doth make
And life what love doth take
When thou say thou love me not
Thou love me not, but still love I got
So live I will.

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Sonnet 90: Stella, Think Not That I

Stella, think not that I by verse seek fame,
Who seek, who hope, who love, who live but thee;
Thine eyes my pride, thy lips my history:
If thou praise not, all other praise is shame.

Nor so ambitious am I, as to frame
A nest for praise in my young laurel tree:
In truth I swear, I wish not there should be
Grav'd in mine epitaph a poet's name:

Ne if I would, could I just title make,
That any laud to me thereof should grow,
Without my plumes from others' wings I take.

For nothing from my wit or will doth flow,
Since all my words thy beauty doth indite,
And Love doth hold my hand, and makes me write.

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I Saw Beauty Today

I saw beauty today, more than mine eyes have, ever;
Thou shalt ne'er be absent from my thought-no, never!
Effusive and ebullient, all are made to be ameliorate-
God surely spared no mentation when you, He did create!

I am made better, for my privity to your existence,
Love for thee strengthens my paternal persistence;
You may not know me, as I do you-yet, I assure you
There is but no other, as do I, who doth adore you!
Perchance, you miss me not, as I do for you, yearn-
Yet, my beloved Angel, one day, this too, you will learn!

Fortified in heart, by knowledge of your need for our consort-
My all-consuming passion for same, naught could ever thwart!
I shall again behold the beauty that doth reside with you,
Envision yet not, all the beauty that doth abide with you!

Maurice Harris,9 January 2010

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How can I cry if tears kill thee?

How can I cry if tears kill thee?
My love, my only sorrow, my pleasure am guilty
I internalize my sorrow so no one can take
The beauty it is and the love it doth make
To tell one of my pain; is to tell one my soul
My soul for my gain, only I will my soul control
The secret of my life is the secret I keep
Which me cherish and hold in my breast deep
It makes me who I art and what I be
The only thing mine, that none other can see
Secretly I cry in my true life inside
There I live and there my love confide
Forever with my sorrow I shall live
Miserly hoarding all its love it doth give

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To the girl I call thee

Passion's sword cut thy lines for beauty to trace
And beauty did trace with all loves fever
Thou art a woman whose dream is to dream forever
So in other dreams you dream with them too
And make all dreams dreams come true..
Lost for words I'll let love speak
My love for you, my love you make
With passion's sword thy slice my soul
For thou to wear, for love's sake
Two thousand tears for one moment of love
Doth not quench the thirst of my melancholic palette
I love you as next to me I subtly taste
Thy soul, with my soul's love in love chaste
Beauty in my limpid tears, thou love's mirror
In my tears, thou tears do sear
Thy burnt tears emblazon love to me
My beloved, my heart, the girl I call thee

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Black

Black is thy thought, doth blacken thy name
Slandered beauty
So black is thy shame
Black is thy pupil doth blacken thy mood
Tortured beauty
So black when thy brood
Black is thy heart doth blacken thy tears
Sorrowful beauty
So black is thy fears
Black is thy skin doth blacken within
Black beauty
So black is thy sin
Black is thy hair doth blacken thy shawl
Despair beauty
So black is the abyss as thy beauty fall…..

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Love

Foolish love is only folly;
Wanton love is too unholy;
Greedy love is covetous;
Idle love is frivolous;
But the gracious love is it
That doth prove the work of it.

Beauty but deceives the eye;
Flattery leads the ear awry;
Wealth doth but enchant the wit;
Want, the overthrow of it;
While in Wisdom's worthy grace,
Virtue sees the sweetest face.

There hath Love found out his life,
Peace without all thought of strife;
Kindness in Discretion's care;
Truth, that clearly doth declare
Faith doth in true fancy prove,
Lust the excrements of Love.

Then in faith may fancy see
How my love may constru'd be;
How it grows and what it seeks;
How it lives and what it likes;
So in highest grace regard it,
Or in lowest scorn discard it.

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John Bunyan

On The Rising Of The Sun

Look, look, brave Sol doth peep up from beneath,
Shows us his golden face, doth on us breathe;
He also doth compass us round with glories,
Whilst he ascends up to his highest stories.
Where he his banner over us displays,
And gives us light to see our works and ways.
Nor are we now, as at the peep of light,
To question, is it day, or is it night?
The night is gone, the shadows fled away,
And we now most sure are that it is day.
Our eyes behold it, and our hearts believe it;
Nor can the wit of man in this deceive it.
And thus it is when Jesus shows his face,
And doth assure us of his love and grace.

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My Definition Of Beauty

Beauty are the roses
Mixed with beauty within
Not just a pretty face
Or pleasures it brings
But lives it beautify

Beauty are the flowers
Blessed with faithfulness
Honesty stains it's plate
Its kindness fills lakes
Its love cannot break

Beauty isn't I love you
But giving love that's true
Beauty isn't sweet words
But words that inspires lives
Beauty isn't what you say
But the way it's said

The rainbows in the sky
The angels from up high
Beauty can lighten eyes
But true beauty lives
Very deep inside
It's grace can bring joy
To Hundreds of hearts.

copyright ©
All rights Eyan Desir)

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Beautiful Breast

Dainty, delicate and delicious doth meet
On thine breast tender, mild and sweet
Beauty in thy heart veiled by a beauteous breast
Seizes mine sight and mine heart arrest
Thou art a manifestation of tranquil beauty
Nurturing life, possessing love's duty
Enticingly sweet thy gravitate to me
With all love's passion glistening on the breast of thee
Thou kiss mine lips with thine tender breast
And I doth taste thy flesh while thine heart caress
Mine heart too, wert love in us doth meet
On thine tender, mild breast, lovely and sweet

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Sonnet # 19

Romantic thoughts of you fill my head
I see them clearly when I close my eyes
A thousand letters that join together to create
The words I love you which play daily upon my mind
Your face I see many times a day
A treasure I shan't never let it go
For you have cast a spell upon me my love
Thy timeless beauty hath bewitched my heart and soul
Your eyes be an enchantment of magical delight
That has gotten hold of me
Priceless is thy smile thou doth possess
A shinning jewel in my mind you will always be
I cannot but help write the words your memory brings
For visions of thee doth force my pen to sing

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John Donne

Holy Sonnet 1

Thou hast made me, and shall Thy work decay?
Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste;
I run to death, and Death meets me as fast,
And all my pleasures are like yesterday.
I dare not move my dim eyes any way;
Despair behind, and Death before doth cast
Such terror, and my feeble flesh doth waste
By sin in it, which it towards hell doth weigh.
Only Thou art above, and when towards Thee
By Thy leave I can look, I rise again;
But our old subtle foe so tempteth me,
That not one hour myself I can sustain.
Thy grace may wing me to prevent his art
And thou like adamant draw mine iron heart.

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George Herbert

Grace

My stock lies dead and no increase
Doth my dull husbandry improve:
O let thy graces without cease
Drop from above!

If still the sun should hide his face,
Thy house would but a dungeon prove,
Thy works, night's captives: O let grace
Drop from above!

The dew doth ev'ry morning fall;
And shall the dew outstrip thy dove?
The dew, for which grass cannot call,
Drop from above.

Death is still working like a mole,
And digs my grave at each remove:
Let grace work too, and on my soul
Drop from above.

Sin is still hammering my heart
Unto a hardness, void of love:
Let suppling grace, to cross his art,
Drop from above.

O come! for thou dost know the way.
Or if to me thou wilt not move,
Remove me, where I need not say,
'Drop from above.'

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Beautiful One

Oh beautiful one, adorned with spell
To ravage my world as might a sweet angel.
Oh beautiful thing, so much at ease:
Allure of caressing breeze in touch gentle.

Oh beautiful creature, sail me do,
As floating on seas of halcyon blue tincture.
You beautiful being, gracing charm
And features that render feel of deep texture.

Your beautiful poise in glide supreme,
Gives such like a vista honed as from heaven.
That beautiful art of face ornate,
Not ever to understate or be riven.

Your beautiful flame of pulchritude
Doth dizzy me high, so I conclude always
You beautiful girl forever be
My shining Janette; my guide; my stairway.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved


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The Beauty Of A Poem

The beauty of a poem
The beauty of music
The beauty of light
The beauty of life
The beauty which makes us want to live life more
The beauty which pains us inside
The beauty in longing.
The beauty we come upon by surprise
The beauty of the day and the beauty of the night
The beauty we all have inside us
The beauty we can see and feel and never explain
The beauty that lifts us up
The beauty that makes us want to live more
The beauty that makes us reach out to God
The beauty we want to thank God for
The beauty of lilacs
The beauty of autumn leaves
The beauty of the people we love
The beauty that pervades life
The beauty that turns away from us
And will not let us be a part of it
The beauty we hold on to fragilely
As a driven leaf
The beauty the beauty the beauty
Oh life oh God of goodness oh death
The beauty we can never see
And the Beauty within us all
Oh God
The Beauty in us and Beyond us all.

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Sonnet 52: A Strife Is Grown

A strife is grown between Virtue and Love,
While each pretends that Stella must be his:
Her eyes, her lips, her all, saith Love, do this
Since they do wear his badge, most firmly prove.

But Virtue thus that title doth disprove:
That Stella (oh dear name) that Stella is
That virtuous soul, sure heir of heav'nly bliss,
Not this fair outside, which our hearts doth move;

And therefore, though her beauty and her grace
Be Love's indeed, in Stella's self he may
By no pretense claim any manner place.

Well, Love, since this demur our suit will stay,
Let Virtue have that Stella's self; yet thus
That Virtue but that body grant to us.

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Her Poetic Countenance

An unfamiliar beauty, so beautiful, she dulled mine charm
A rich man I was with word, so poor I am now
For all my wit and my wit's gravity her beauty doth disarm
For her sensation animates my treasure on her dainty brow.
How beautiful doth beauty perceive thee
Painted by the stokes of spirit, spiritual rapture
So extraordinary doth passion play its delightful symphony;
Singing my poetry on thy countenance for mine hand to capture.
Blushing like a girl, for a girl my poem be
I want to pluck it charm and pen its sweet ink
Into the language of love that my heart doth see
Thine intelligence is beauty my poetry mine heart me think
I beg thee with elegance set foot into my sonnet and plant thy seed
So in my words thy countenance in my poetry one shall forever read.

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Divine Beauty

divine beauty
infinite grace
beauty untold in your eyes and face
trusting me and me alone
you take my hand
and proceed to stand
on your own two feet again

Smiling bright under sweet moonlight
your beauty shows as the moon glows
O` how your beauty doth grow
calling to me in white hot passion

yet running from me
with in a fleet heart`d fashion

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Love And Beauty: III: To A Fair Woman, Unsatisfied With Woman's Work

If Beauty is a name for visible Love,
And Love for Beauty in the conscious soul,
Which when commoving to its highest whole,
Or making that whole part of wholes above
Itself, feels, like an eye, that it doth move,
But cannot see the motion visible
To others and in others; if the sole
Difference is ours who see the spirit a dove,
Or feel the dove a spirit; and if in
All worlds Love, Love, as song and text allege,
Sums the full good of life, who shall not bow
To Beauty? Thou, born in her shrine, if thou
Shouldst dare profane her, what would be thy sin?
The sacrilegious priest does more than sacrilege.

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