Immortality In Thee
Love is my fire, which burns to ash
And with its ash I write thy name
On thy heart, on thy heart of fame
So love does not die, but seep in thee
And thou realize what thee mean to me.
Thy meaning is to simply be
The lady thou art, the lady I see
With my soul's earnest eye
And with my hearts tender sigh
In mine essence thine heart shall never die
My love is immortal, it shall not perish
And in natures beauty it will cherish
All loves to be all to loves to come
And with my loves soft drum, I beat
I sing, to thy souls in nature.. I sing
In the sun's incandescent light
In the cadence of her ocean's waves
In the mist drenched valleys of her hills
In the rich colorful petals of fragile flowers
In the aroma of her strange spices
In the evanescence of her moon
In the beauty of her earthly souls
In sympathy, forgiveness, humanity
In the sensitivity of thine heart!
From the fire of dying love
With its ashes, I give,
To thou to keep, in thine heart hidden deep.
My ashes so seep….
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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The Mother of Beauty and Love
Through thine heart, and times portal,
Thine give me truth and love immortal
No love, if there is love, is like thee
Sometimes I ponder if love is what thou be?
Or if love we did know before was just a charade
A propriety, a clandestine façade
To satiate sinister lust
That infects us…
For when thy walk, thou dance to me
And when thou talk, thou words paint
In my sweet soul of loves immortality
The contours of thy body which hide in my souls eye
thine beauty, mine sadness… should thy beauty die
And thy beauteous soul leave like an autumn tree
All its beauty for my heart to see…
I write this poem to immortality
the mother of love of beauty!
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Thine Heart Conceive
The heart feels what the mind cannot conceive.
How can thou love me? But in thy love thou burn
Mine heart solemnly, my life savior I perceive,
For thou take mine heart's ashes from thy golden urn
And blow them into me, for my soul to spring,
Spring in the season of all love temperate
Flute like thy breathe to mine heart and soulfully sing,
Temperament to me, love to mine heart moderate
As I sit by thy gentle fire content and warm
Pondering the question of love and how can it be?
That thou ravishingly burn while I slowly transform,
Into a soft wax that quickly emasculates me.
For thou say nothing but only breathe
The love mine heart feels and thine heart conceive
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Behind Waves Of Ebony Hair
I see thou changed thy hair color
For his liking and mine despair
To hide thy beauty to mine dolor
Every time I spy at thou there.
I begged thee to never change
A single hair, or who thou art
For I loved thee known and loved thee strange
With all my love, all mine heart.
Thy look so dark with love's desire
Behind thine waves of thine hair ebony
Hiding from him, revealing to me
Thy secret love of thy hidden desire.
Thou still love me then, thou love me so
Still I'll never be loved, for I don't know.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Give to Love
Love came knocking on thy door
With you in sight to love and adore
But thine did give
All that thou have and
need to live?
You gave thine lips for love to speak
You gave thine heart for love's heart's weak
You gave thine face, to love to trace
its tears across thee a sorrowful place
thou give to thy loss when it comes to love!
You gave thine soul to love's control
You gave love thy hand to hold
You gave thy feet for love to kiss
You gave thy happiness to love's bliss
You gave thy breast for love to touch
You gave thine body for love to clutch.
But what did love give thee?
Love took and took and left thee with nothing!
With nothing now you are at peace, thou art free!
This is what love did to me!
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Sonnet 22: My glass shall not persuade me I am old
My glass shall not persuade me I am old
So long as youth and thou are of one date;
But when in thee Time's furrows I behold,
Then look I death my days should expiate.
For all that beauty that doth cover thee
Is but the seemly raiment of my heart,
Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me.
How can I then be elder than thou art?
O, therefore, love, be of thyself so wary
As I not for myself, but for thee will,
Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary
As tender nurse her babe from faring ill.
Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain;
Thou gav'st me thine, not to give back again.
poem by William Shakespeare
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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
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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I cannot hear anything but mine own heart beat
I cannot hear anything but mine own heart beat
Thou art still the most beautiful lady I've ever seen
So elegant and refined, graceful and petite
Thou art effeminate in love with beauty serene
Thou define beauty with such eloquence and such charm
No time, no age, no season nor death did trace
Worn lines, wrinkles, sorrow and decay on thee
For by thy bosom love pulsates to thy immortal face
The poetry of flesh; the beauty thy flesh be
An ideal imagination that steams thy beauty fast
And whispers nature's secret's like the silver moon
And reveals beauty like the sun's light cast
And reflects love like profound emotions swoon
I can only hear my heart beat, as I fall and faint
For mine heart, thy beauty took and with thy face did paint…
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Belladonna
The ballet's of dancing feet
Are not as delicate, not as sweet
Nimble or soft
As they soul dancing in front of me
My mind aloft
Thine soul deftly
Step in me as thy walk in me
Like my souls the sun
And thy soles burn
No flowers bloom,
No angel's wings spread
No butterflies flower
No baby is conceived
As thou conceive to me
Thine true beauty blooms
Thy wings spread
Thy butterflies flower
As my souls breadth
Grows free with thee
Thy book opens
Its heart to me
For love to read
Thine voice is paradise found
Through you paradise speak
Through you heaven's tears weep
Through you heaven's perfume seep
Through you heaven's love meek
Through you heaven's flower blush
Through heaven's tender cheek
This is grace
This the face
Of love's turning dial
Of my love's smile
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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To Mine Heart's Captor
To mine heart's captor: thou knowest who for art thou!
With its absquatulation complete, what art thine plans now?
Art thine intentions altruistic and pure-
May thine jollity, these intentions, ensure?
Might thine heart be exalted in consort with mine?
If thee were to seek its consult, how would it opine?
Love knows not impediments, it lasts and grows forever;
Come with me, my beloved, we shall live this truth, together!
Have not thee thought of me, fondly, in mine absence?
The gift of our love is proof of His Divine Benevolence!
Walk this journey called life with me by thine side;
Mine unceasing love shall always, and e'er, be supplied-
For so long as thou art enamored by this offer;
First though, you need remove thine heart from its coffer!
-Maurice Harris,16 May 2011
poem by Maurice Harris
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Fundo
Thou art love's sweet dew which frost mine heart
Dressed in chemise white, love's scintillating tart
My heart blooms into pink lilies fair as thine dew melts
Ores of love from hate for mine heart smelts
Into beautiful, soft, delicate, elegant silk
As pure as light as white as milk
To wrap thee in and love with beauty cherish
In my grasps we melt with love till love doth perish…
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Sonnet XXXII: Equal Troth
Not by one measure mayst thou mete our love;
For how should I be loved as I love thee?—
I, graceless, joyless, lacking absolutely
All gifts that with thy queenship best behove;—
Thou, throned in every heart's elect alcove,
And crowned with garlands culled from every tree,
Which for no head but thine, by Love's decree,
All beauties and all mysteries interwove.
But here thine eyes and lips yield soft rebuke:—
“Then only” (say'st thou) “could I love thee less,
When thou couldst doubt my love's equality.”
Peace, sweet! If not to sum but worth we look,—
Thy heart's transcendence, not my heart's excess,—
Then more a thousandfold thou lov'st than I.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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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…
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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A Lyric
My lady love lives far away,
And oh my heart is sad by day,
And ah my tears fall fast by night,
What may I do in such a plight.
Why, miles grow few when love is fleet,
And love, you know, hath flying feet;
Break off thy sighs and witness this,
How poor a thing mere distance is.
My love knows not I love her so,
And would she scorn me, did she know?
How may the tale I would impart
Attract her ear and storm her heart?
Calm thou the tempest in my breast,
Who loves in silence loves the best,
But bide thy time, she will awake,
No night so dark but morn will break.
But though my heart so strongly yearn,
My lady loves me not in turn,
How may I win the blest reply
That my void heart shall satisfy.
Love breedeth love, be thou but true,
And soon thy love shall love thee, too;
If Fate hath meant you heart for heart,
There's naught may keep you twain apart.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Flowers I See
The belladonna in the valley, so magical in purple, so deadly within me, the nightshade thou possess, and in thee my life fade. The amaryllis in mine soul, thy scarlet leaf haunts me, for in thy scarlet stained grief, mine love and life I see. The blossom canna even thee! with lips stained with vice, from the vice of pleasure you chose, to create the beauty of thine treasure for our souls to greed. The begonia of beauty delicious thy beauty leave, and like all beauty thou deceive, the love pregnant in me. The oriental poppy, thy aroma helps me to sleep and dream of colors as vivid as thee and as unreal as thy petals be, unreal my dreams of thee. O fairy blossoms, in pink and white wing, inside thy petals the butterfly dwells and the spring ferries sing. Ah! there is the rose, with all its beauty in she which grows, wins the hearts of all whom know, that in the rose our love to doth grow. Still all these flowers look pale next to she, the panther in brown, with eyes of ebony, whom stares at me and sees flowers in my gleaming eye and preys on me before I die.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Pog
With thine kiss mine heart leap
into thee where my love grow
With thine kiss thy beauty I reap
and thy love mine heart sow
My beauty so kiss me
So love can feel
What beauties kiss
and thine heart reel
into majestic mist
where we can love
and our hearts seal…
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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And Wilt Thou Weep When I Am Low?
And wilt thou weep when I am low?
Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so--
I would not give that bosom pain.
My heart is sad, my hopes are gone,
My blood runs coldly through my breast;
And when I perish, thou alone
Wilt sigh above my place of rest.
And yet, methinks, a gleam of peace
Doth through my cloud of anguish shine:
And for a while my sorrows cease,
To know thy heart hath felt for mine.
Oh lady! blessd be that tear--
It falls for one who cannot weep;
Such precious drops are doubly dear
To those whose eyes no tear may steep.
Sweet lady! once my heart was warm
With every feeling soft as thine;
But Beauty's self hath ceased to charm
A wretch created to repine.
Yet wilt thou weep when I am low?
Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so--
I would not give that bosom pain.
And Wilt Thou Weep When I Am Low
And wilt thou weep when I am low?
Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so---
I would not give that bosom pain.
My heart is sad, my hopes are gone,
My blood runs coldly through my breast;
And when I perish, thou alone
Wilt sigh above my place of rest.
And yet, methinks, a gleam of peace
Doth through my cloud of anguish shine:
And for a while my sorrows cease,
To know thy heart hath felt for mine.
Oh lady! blessd be that tear---
It falls for one who cannot weep;
Such precious drops are doubly dear
To those whose eyes no tear may steep.
Sweet lady! once my heart was warm
With every feeling soft as thine;
But Beauty's self hath ceased to charm
A wretch created to repine.
Yet wilt thou weep when I am low ?
Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so---
I would not give that bosom pain.
poem by Byron (1808)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Man's Requirements
I
Love me Sweet, with all thou art,
Feeling, thinking, seeing;
Love me in the lightest part,
Love me in full being.
II
Love me with thine open youth
In its frank surrender;
With the vowing of thy mouth,
With its silence tender.
III
Love me with thine azure eyes,
Made for earnest grantings;
Taking colour from the skies,
Can Heaven's truth be wanting?
IV
Love me with their lids, that fall
Snow-like at first meeting;
Love me with thine heart, that all
Neighbours then see beating.
V
Love me with thine hand stretched out
Freely -- open-minded:
Love me with thy loitering foot, --
Hearing one behind it.
VI
Love me with thy voice, that turns
Sudden faint above me;
Love me with thy blush that burns
When I murmur 'Love me!'
VII
Love me with thy thinking soul,
Break it to love-sighing;
Love me with thy thoughts that roll
On through living -- dying.
VIII
Love me in thy gorgeous airs,
When the world has crowned thee;
Love me, kneeling at thy prayers,
With the angels round thee.
IX
Love me pure, as muses do,
Up the woodlands shady:
Love me gaily, fast and true,
As a winsome lady.
X
Through all hopes that keep us brave,
Farther off or nigher,
Love me for the house and grave,
And for something higher.
XI
Thus, if thou wilt prove me, Dear,
Woman's love no fable,
I will love thee -- half a year --
As a man is able.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Lover’s Song
[ANGELO, Act II., May, 1835.]
My soul unto thy heart is given,
In mystic fold do they entwine,
So bound in one that, were they riven,
Apart my soul would life resign.
Thou art my song and I the lyre;
Thou art the breeze and I the brier;
The altar I, and thou the fire;
Mine the deep love, the beauty thine!
As fleets away the rapid hour
While weeping--may
My sorrowing lay
Touch thee, sweet flower.
poem by Victor Hugo
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The Moon's Minion
Thine eyes are like the sea, my dear,
The wand'ring waters, green and grey;
Thine eyes are wonderful and clear,
And deep, and deadly, even as they;
The spirit of the changeful sea
Informs thine eyes at night and noon,
She sways the tides, and the heart of thee,
The mystic, sad, capricious Moon!
The Moon came down the shining stair
Of clouds that fleck the summer sky,
She kissed thee, saying, 'Child, be fair,
And madden men's hearts, even as I;
Thou shalt love all things strange and sweet,
That know me and are known of me;
The lover thou shalt never meet,
The land where thou shalt never be!'
She held thee in her chill embrace,
She kissed thee with cold lips divine,
She left her pallor on thy face,
That mystic ivory face of thine;
And now I sit beside thy feet,
And all my heart is far from thee,
Dreaming of her I shall not meet,
And of the land I shall not see!
poem by Andrew Lang
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