Our Tears
For each time thou cry
I shed a tear or too
For love that thou cry
Turns my heart a blue.
I know that thou love
For love is all thou do
I know thou love me
For I love you too.
For why must our tears
Be our manifestation of love?
For tears of happiness
We cry by Jove
We know it's true!
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Intrigue
THOU art my love
And thou art the peace of sundown
When the blue shadows soothe
And the grasses and the leaves sleep
To the song of the little brooks
Woe is me.
Thou art my love,
And thou art a storm
That breaks black in the sky
And, sweeping headlong,
Drenches and cowers each tree
And at the panting end
There is no sound
Save the melancholy cry of a single owl
Woe is me!
Thou art my love
And thou art a tinsel thing
And I in my play
Broke thee easily
And from the little fragments
Arose my long sorrow
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art a weary violet
Drooping from sun-caresses.
Answering mine carelessly
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art the ashes of other men's love
And I bury my face in these ashes
And I love them
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art the beard
On another man's face
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art a temple
And in this temple is an altar
And on this altar is my heart
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art a wretch.
Let these sacred love-lies choke thee
For I am come to where I know your lies as truth
And your truth as lies
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art a priestess
And in thy hand is a bloody dagger
And my doom comes to me surely
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art a skull with ruby eyes
And I love thee
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And I doubt thee
And if peace came with my murder
Then would I murder
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art death
Aye, thou art death
Black and yet black
But I love thee
I love thee
Woe, welcome woe, to me.
poem by Stephen Crane
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Sonnet 40: Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all
Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all;
What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?
No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call;
All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more.
Then if for my love, thou my love receivest,
I cannot blame thee, for my love thou usest;
But yet be blamed, if thou thy self deceivest
By wilful taste of what thy self refusest.
I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief,
Although thou steal thee all my poverty;
And yet love knows it is a greater grief
To bear love's wrong, than hate's known injury.
Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows,
Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Love
1 Canst thou love me, lady?
2 I've not learn'd to woo:
3 Thou art on the shady
4 Side of sixty too.
5 Still I love thee dearly!
6 Thou hast lands and pelf:
7 But I love thee merely
8 Merely for thyself.
9 Wilt thou love me, fairest?
10 Though thou art not fair;
11 And I think thou wearest
12 Someone-else's hair.
13 Thou could'st love, though, dearly:
14 And, as I am told,
15 Thou art very nearly
16 Worth thy weight, in gold.
17 Dost thou love me, sweet love?
18 Tell me that thou dost!
19 Women fairly beat one,
20 But I think thou must.
21 Thou art loved so dearly:
22 I am plain, but then
23 Thou (to speak sincerely)
24 Art as plain again.
25 Love me, bashful fairy!
26 I've an empty purse:
27 And I've 'moods,' which vary;
28 Mostly for the worse.
29 Still, I love thee dearly:
30 Though I make (I feel)
31 Love a little queerly,
32 I'm as true as steel.
33 Love me, swear to love me
34 (As, you know, they do)
35 By yon heaven above me
36 And its changeless blue.
37 Love me, lady, dearly,
38 If you'll be so good;
39 Though I don't see clearly
40 On what ground you should.
41 Love me -- ah or love me
42 Not, but be my bride!
43 Do not simply shove me
44 (So to speak) aside!
45 P'raps it would be dearly
46 Purchased at the price;
47 But a hundred yearly
48 Would be very nice.
poem by Charles Stuart Calverley
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Love Me Not 06
Love me not as thou would love the moon and stars
Love me not as thou would love an immortal godess
Love me as thou would love a mystery, a shadow
Love me as thou would love a secret, a rose
Love me not to die for me
Love me not as thine own
Love me as thou loves life, as the beautiful unknown
Love me as I am with out question, with out sorrow
Love me not as thou would love the moon and stars
Love me not as an immortal goddess
Love me as thou would love a secret, a shadow
Love me more as each layer, each petal unfolds
poem by Kira Bloom
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The Master Of My Pen, The Author Of My Woe
The master of my pen, the author of my woe
My loves sorrow, my love's flower morose
In my night dreams, in strange light show
An apparition of dead love, her ghastly ghost
O! Love dead! To me thou love still grow
And dampen my dreams, with serious tears
Awakening my unconscious to my conscious flow
Insinuating thy sweet sorrow into my love's fears
Thou art dead, and the sadness I feel
Is the sadness thou art, for thou cannot love me again
For thy hand is as weak as air, thou art not real
Only real in my emotive river, of lasting pain
My love, my love, thou became my love only
For thou art dead and I am sorrowfully lonely…
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Wilt Thou Take Me For Thy Slave?
Wilt thou take me for thy slave,
With my folly and my love?
Wilt thou take me for the bondsman of thy pride?
Thou who dearer art to me than all the world beside;
For I love thee as no other man can love.
Wilt thou take me to thy soul,
For the truth which thou shalt prove?
Wilt thou clothe me with the riches of thy care?
Thou who dearer art to me than gold and jewels rare;
For I love thee as no other man can love.
Wilt thou take me for thy king,
While the sun and stars shall move?
Wilt thou pay me back the homage I have given?
Oh thou dearer unto me than sun and stars and heaven!
For I love thee as no other man can love.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Lovers' Infiniteness
IF yet I have not all thy love,
Dear, I shall never have it all;
I cannot breathe one other sigh, to move,
Nor can intreat one other tear to fall;
And all my treasure, which should purchase thee,
Sighs, tears, and oaths, and letters I have spent;
Yet no more can be due to me,
Than at the bargain made was meant.
If then thy gift of love were partial,
That some to me, some should to others fall,
Dear, I shall never have thee all.
Or if then thou gavest me all,
All was but all, which thou hadst then;
But if in thy heart since there be or shall
New love created be by other men,
Which have their stocks entire, and can in tears,
In sighs, in oaths, and letters, outbid me,
This new love may beget new fears,
For this love was not vow'd by thee.
And yet it was, thy gift being general;
The ground, thy heart, is mine; what ever shall
Grow there, dear, I should have it all.
Yet I would not have all yet.
He that hath all can have no more;
And since my love doth every day admit
New growth, thou shouldst have new rewards in store;
Thou canst not every day give me thy heart,
If thou canst give it, then thou never gavest it;
Love's riddles are, that though thy heart depart,
It stays at home, and thou with losing savest it;
But we will have a way more liberal,
Than changing hearts, to join them; so we shall
Be one, and one another's all.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Love's Infiniteness
If yet I have not all thy love,
Dear, I shall never have it all,
I cannot breathe one other sigh, to move,
Nor can entreat one other tear to fall,
And all my treasure, which should purchase thee,
Sighs, tears, and oaths, and letters I have spent.
Yet no more can be due to me,
Than at the bargain made was meant;
If then thy gift of love were partial,
That some to me, some should to others fall,
Dear, I shall never have thee all.
Or if then thou gavest me all,
All was but all, which thou hadst then;
But if in thy heart, since, there be or shall
New love created be, by other men,
Which have their stocks entire, and can in tears,
In sighs, in oaths, and letters outbid me,
This new love may beget new fears,
For, this love was not vowed by thee.
And yet it was, thy gift being general;
The ground, thy heart, is mine, whatever shall
Grow there, dear, I should have it all.
Yet I would not have all yet;
He that hath all can have no more,
And since my love doth every day admit
New growth, thou shouldst have new rewards in store;
Thou canst not every day give me thy heart,
If thou canst give it, then thou never gavest it:
Love's riddles are, that though thy heart depart,
It stays at home, and thou with losing savest it:
But we will have a way more liberal,
Than changing hearts, to join them, so we shall
Be one, and one another's all.
poem by John Donne
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My Light Thou Art
My light thou art, without thy glorious sight
My eyes are darkened with eternal night;
My Love, thou art my way, my life, my light.
Thou art my way, I wander if thou fly;
Thou art my light, if hid, how blind am I!
Thou art my life, if thou withdraw'st I die.
Thou art my life; if thou but turn away,
My life's a thousand deaths. Thou art my way;
Without thee, Love, I travel not, but stray.
poem by Lord John Wilmot
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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
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Where found Love his yesterday?
WHERE found Love his yesterday?
When is Love's to-morrow? say.
Love has only now.
We can swear it, we who stand
In Love's present, hand in hand,
Thou and I, dear, I and thou.
By and by and Long ago;
Last month's buds, next winter's snow;
Love has only now.
Do we wot of rathe or sere
In Love's boundless summer year,
Thou and I, dear, I and thou?
Suns that rose and suns to set;
Gone for ever and Not yet;
Love has always now.
Do we count by dawn and night,
Dwelling in Love's perfect light,
Thou and I, dear, I and thou?
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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Thy Better Self
I AM thy other self, what thou wilt be,
When thou art I, the one seest now;
In finding thy true self thou wilt find me,
The springing blade, where now thou dost but plough.
I am thy neighbor, a new house I've built,
Which thou as yet hast never entered in;
I come to call thee; come in when thou wilt,
The feast is always ready to begin.
Thou should'st love me, as thou dost love thyself,
For I am but another self beside;
To show thee him thou lov'st in better health,
What thou would'st be, when thou to him hast died;
Then visit me, I make thee many a call;
Nor live I near to thee alone, but all.
poem by Jones Very
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Love So Pure it Lastes all Season
Love oh love will thou wait for me
will thou wait in the spring's flowers
Love oh love will thou wait for me
will thou wait in the summer's sun
Love oh love will thou wait for me
will thou wait in the fall's breeze
Love oh love will thou wait for me
will thou wait for me in the winter's chill
Love oh love if thy waits for me in the spring, we shall run among the spring flowers and smell its morning dew
Love oh love if thy waits for me in the summer, we shall vask in its beautiful sunrays and splash in its cooling waters
Love oh love if thy waits for me in the fall, we shall play in its fallen leaves and sit beside the naked trees
Love oh love if thy waits for me in the winter, we shall play in its chilling snow and I shall build for you a wonderful snowman
Love oh love your waiting willth not been in vain for together we shall be someday
To you oh love I say may our love last as long as the seasons
poem by Darius Fields
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Where Art Thou?
My love where art thou?
Buried in the heart of dead souls grave
In the burdened face, in the sagging brow
Burnt to ashes for evil to deprave—
My love where art thou?
Hidden beneath the voice of beauty
Dangling in the wind like chime
In the sonnets of one's love poetry
Surviving the cruelty of cruel time—
My Love where art thou?
Painted on Christ's prayer his somber plea
In the whine of a my sweet child
Shining bright on the fiery star of the sea
Nourishing the cubs in the earth's natural wild
My love where art thou?
Thou art certainly not in me
With me, my love thou wilt never be
Love everywhere in perfect harmony
Except me, with no love, my life's destiny….
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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An intruder
Thou came and won my heart,
I was not ready for that
Yet I sacrificed my ego
At the altar of thy love.
I honoured thy desire
Dishonouring mine,
I illumined thy world Darkening mine,
I inhabited thy heart
Deserting mine.
But all of a sudden
What happened?
Thou shifted the fragrance of thy love
To someone else,
Thou lighted his heart
from
The pyre of my love,
Thou robbed me
Of my love, my emotions,
And
even my dreams,
Thou came into my world stealthily,
Thou were an intruder.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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Sonnet: My Allegiance to God
Thou saved my life so many times till now;
Each time, it was a miracle indeed;
It proved to me Thy magnificent love;
Could I return Thy love with more good deed?
Thou me forgave my sins I committed;
Thou made me feel ashamed of my bad deeds;
Due punishments on me, Thou remitted,
And in my heart with grace, Thou sowed love’s seed!
But earthly-life will pass off peacefully,
For things happen only by Thine mouth’s word;
With Thee beside, who then can me bully?
Thou art my Savior kind, my Good Shepherd.
Thou art my Master true, my Lord and God;
Happy am I, though born a man from clod.
poem by John Celes
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Awareness
Conscience
Thou art mystery
Love thy yet
Whisper out loud
Open sim sim
Thou allow one
Knowing the code
Thou feel to open
Thou fly
Thou dance
Thou swim
Thou play
Thou thrive on Truth
Truth nothing but the Truth
Discarding worn coat
In oblivion
Thou merge
With infinity
For the time being.
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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Thou knoweth love not like me
Thou knowth love not like me
Thou whom are beauty bound to grace
And me whom is hideous and ugly
Marred to the soul, marred on my face.
I know love's temptation but loved am not
As thou art loved and love no one
I love love but never felt it, only besought
The love thou have, beloved by all like the sun.
I lament in ugliness and with ugliness alone
As beauteous thee, with love marry
I decay like death, and wither to the bone
Married thou art mythicized into a ferry
Beautiful, angelic, thou know love's power
Ugly and hideous I know love's final hour……
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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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.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Love Me A Little
Love me a little, love me as thou wilt,
Whether a draught it be of passionate wine
Poured with both hands divine,
Or just a cup of water spilt
On dying lips and mine.
Give me the love thou wilt,
The purity, the guilt,
So it be thine.
Love me a little. Let it be thy cheek
With its red signals. That were dear to kiss.
Or, if thou mayest not this,
A finger--tip my own to seek
At nightfall when none guess.
Eyes have the wit to speak,
And sighs send messages:
Even give less.
Love me a little. Let it be in words
Of happy omen heralding thy choice,
Or in a veiled sad voice
Of warning, like a frightened bird's.
How should I not rejoice,
Though swords be crossed with swords
And discord mar love's chords
And tears thy voice?
Love me a little. All my world thou art.
Thy much were Heaven: thy little Earth shall be.
If not Eternity,
Then Time be mine, the human part,
A single hour with thee.
Love as thou wilt and art,
With all or half a heart,
So thou love me.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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