Promenade
Undulant rustlings,
Of oncoming silk,
Rhythmic, incessant,
Like the motion of leaves…
Fragments of color
In glowing surprises…
Pink inuendoes
Hooded in gray
Like buds in a cobweb
Pearled at dawn…
Glimpses of green
And blurs of gold
And delicate mauves
That snatch at youth…
And bodies all rosily
Fleshed for the airing,
In warm velvety surges
Passing imperious, slow…
Women drift into the limousines
That shut like silken caskets
On gems half weary of their glittering…
Lamps open like pale moon flowers…
Arcs are radiant opals
Strewn along the dusk…
No common lights invade.
And spires rise like litanies -
Magnificats of stone
Over the white silence of the arcs,
Burning in perpetual adoration.
poem by Lola Ridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
St. Valentine's Day
The South is a dream of flowers
With a jewel for sky and sea,
Rose-crowns for the dancing hours,
Gold fruits upon every tree;
But cold from the North The wind blows forth
That blows my love to me.
The stars in the South are gold
Like lamps between sky and sea;
The flowers that the forests hold.
Like stars between tree and tree;
But little and white Is the pale moon's light
That lights my love to me.
In the South the orange grove
Makes dusk by the dusky sea,
White palaces wrought for love
Gleam white between tree and tree,
But under bare boughs Is the little house
Warm-lit for my love and me.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Flotsam
Crass rays streaming from the vestibules;
Cafes glittering like jeweled teeth;
High-flung signs
Blinking yellow phosphorescent eyes;
Girls in black
Circling monotonously
About the orange lights…
Nothing to guess at…
Save the darkness above
Crouching like a great cat.
In the dim-lit square,
Where dishevelled trees
Tustle with the wind—the wind like a scythe
Mowing their last leaves—
Arcs shimmering through a greenish haze—
Pale oval arcs
Like ailing virgins,
Each out of a halo circumscribed,
Pallidly staring…
Figures drift upon the benches
With no more rustle than a dropped leaf settling—
Slovenly figures like untied parcels,
And papers wrapped about their knees
Huddled one to the other,
Cringing to the wind—
The sided wind,
Leaving no breach untried…
So many and all so still…
The fountain slobbering its stone basin
Is louder than They—
Flotsam of the five oceans
Here on this raft of the world.
This old man's head
Has found a woman's shoulder.
The wind juggles with her shawl
That flaps about them like a sail,
And splashes her red faded hair
Over the salt stubble of his chin.
A light foam is on his lips,
As though dreams surged in him
Breaking and ebbing away…
And the bare boughs shuffle above him
And the twigs rattle like dice…
She—diffused like a broken beetle—
Sprawls without grace,
Her face gray as asphalt,
Her jaws sagging as on loosened hinges…
Shadows ply about her mouth—
Nimble shadows out of the jigging tree,
That dances above her its dance of dry bones.
II
A uniformed front,
Paunched;
A glance like a blow,
The swing of an arm,
Verved, vigorous;
Boot-heels clanking
In metallic rhythm;
The blows of a baton,
Quick, staccato…
—There is a rustling along the benches
As of dried leaves raked over…
And the old man lifts a shaking palsied hand,
Tucking the displaced paper about his knees.
Colder…
And a frost under foot,
Acid, corroding,
Eating through worn bootsoles.
Drab forms blur into greenish vapor.
Through boughs like cross-bones,
Pale arcs flare and shiver
Like lilies in a wind.
High over Broadway
A far-flung sign
Glitters in indigo darkness
And spurts again rhythmically,
Spraying great drops
Red as a hemorrhage.
poem by Lola Ridge
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807 Opal Birthstone Of October
Opals - gems with quartz-like structure
Flash and sparkle rainbow colours
Ancient eye stone - deep red fire stone
Eastern Opals truth and faith stone
Pure white Opal - jet black Opal
Crystal clear the water Opal
Elusive - diffuse - mystery stone
Opals - gems with quartz-like structure.
Radiating nature's power
Opals found in far Australia
Central South and North America
Offer pureness hope and healing
Increase visual power and eyesight
Enhance insight faith and feeling
The Opal glows with inner light
Radiating nature's power.
Opal birthstone for October
Linked with star sign funky Libra
Weighs each Opal in his scales
Happiness it gives its wearer
The lovely Opal never fails.
Stone of fortune in Ancient Greece
In Ancient Rome the stone of peace.
Opal birthstone for October.
Opal jewel for love that's faithful
Opals gems with quartz-like structure
Radiating nature's power
Opal birthstone for October
October for birthstone Opal
Power nature's radiating
Structure like quartz with gems Opal
Faithful that's love for jewel Opal.
Dedicated to the Angel of October.
(John Knight - Freezing Colchester - 31 January 2010)
poem by John Knight
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The Hand That Rocks The Craddle Pink
Pink used to be the preferred color for boys.
Clouds of white for girls.
The cradle... optimistically oufitted in pink,
is the color for boys, that for a girl being true blue.
Blue) a Virgin’s color (
used once for girls and pink for boys tossed out.
Pink, is as a shade of red
was considered masculine it is a “fierce color”
while blue is frilly and decidedly delicate.
Reason goes is that pink being more a decided
and stronger color is more suitable for the boy,
while blue,
which is more delicate and dainty, is a prettier fop
than poor the toiling girl.
Boys in pink.
Blue girls and is quite tamed in us famous,
but she also has a less known work called,
The naughty pink smile.
Children named Charles were not all girls
and where the girls and Elizabeth
are in baby blue while the boys are dressed in red.
poem by Is It Poetry
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‘You Rise the Water Unfolds’
You rise the water unfolds
You sleep the water flowers
You are water ploughed from its depths
You are earth that takes root
And in which all is grounded
You make bubbles of silence in the desert of sound
You sing nocturnal hymns on the arcs of the rainbow
You are everywhere you abolish the roads
You sacrifice time
To the eternal youth of an exact flame
That veils Nature to reproduce her
Woman you show the world a body forever the same
Yours
You are its likeness.
poem by Paul Eluard
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A wold made of pink
It's just a new obsession
A color which makes me go insane
Pink is not any kind of fiction
Pink always helps me gain
Faith, confidence and everything I need
Trust, joy and a bit of laughter
This color helps me succeed
Pink is the color of my eyes
Only when I look at you
Pink makes me an angel in disguise
It's the color which brings joy to me and my crew
Pink is a color so mighty, so great
Pink is the color my face
Turns when I'm late
Pink is the color which nothing can replace
It's the color which I can't stop thinking of
Neither day nor night
Pink symbolizes my love
Pink is the color of the light
Which shines in my heart for you
It's the color of a wonderland
This color shouldn't be withdrew
It's the color of my imaginary sand
Pink is the color my cat wants to be
Pink is the color of the sun which shines
Pink is the color the world can see
Pink is the color which gives me signs
poem by Mia Peterson
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Jewels: A Young Man to a Merchant
OLD Man, your pearls are not for us,
Your rubies die too soon:
Have you the pearls of Sirius,
Or opals of the moon?
I do not ask for other gems;
Flashing with frost and fire
The sky's undying diadems
Shall be my love's attire.
Emeralds, that into rubies melt
Upon the brow of night,
I've taken from Orion's belt
To make her girdle bright.
On high ways of the albatross
I scale the purple air
For sapphires of the Southern Cross
And wreath them in her hair
Her robe it is the morning sky,
Her veil it is the West;
So robed, so veiled my love will fly.
When I am gone to rest.
Yet all the rays of all the moons,
The lights of all the skies
Are pale beside the dim lagoons
Of those mysterious eyes.
Old Man, your pearls are not for us,
Your rubies die too soon:
Have you the pearls of Sirius,
Or opals of the moon
poem by Herbert Asquith
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Nocturne
Indigo bulb of darkness
Punctured by needle lights
Through a fissure of brick canyon shutting out stars,
And a sliver of moon
Spigoting two high windows over the West river….
Boy, I met to-night,
Your eyes are two red-glowing arcs shifting with my vision….
They reflect as in a fading proof
The deadened eyes of a woman,
And your shed virginity,
Light as the withered pod of a sweet pea,
Moist and fragrant
Blows against my soul.
What are you to me, boy,
That I, who have passed so many lights,
Should carry your eyes
Like swinging lanterns?
poem by Lola Ridge
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The Golden Journey
All day he drowses by the sail
With dreams of her, and all night long
The broken waters are at song
Of how she lingers, wild and pale,
When all the temple lights are dumb,
And weaves her spells to make him come.
The wide sea traversed, he will stand
With straining eyes, until the shoal
Green water from the prow shall roll
Upon the yellow strip of sand -
Searching some fern-hid tangled way
Into the forest old and grey.
Then he will leap upon the shore,
And cast one look up at the sun,
Over his loosened locks will run
The dawn breeze, and a bird will pour
Its rapture out to make life seem
Too sweet to leave for such a dream.
But all the swifter will he go
Through the pale, scattered asphodels,
Down mote-hung dusk of olive dells,
To where the ancient basins throw
Fleet threads of blue and trembling zones
Of gold upon the temple stones.
There noon keeps just a twilight trace;
Twixt love and hate, and death and birth,
No man may choose; nor sobs nor mirth
May enter in that haunted place.
All day the fountain sphynx lets drip
Slow drops of silence from her lip.
To hold the porch-roof slender girls
Of milk-white marble stand arow;
Doubt never blurs a single brow,
And never the noon's faintness curls
From their expectant hush of pride
The lips the god has glorified.
But these things he will barely view,
Or if he stay to heed them, still
But as the lark the lights that spill
From out the sun it soars unto,
Where, past the splendors and the heats,
The sun's heart's self forever beats.
For wide the brazen doors will swing
Soon as his sandals touch the pave;
The anxious light inside will wave
And tremble to a lunar ring
About the form that lieth prone
Before the dreadful altar-stone.
She will not look or speak or stir,
But with drowned lips and cheeks death-white
Will lie amid the pool of light,
Until, grown faint with thirst of her,
He shall bow down his face and sink
Breathless beneath the eddying brink.
Then a swift music will begin,
And as the brazen doors shut slow,
There will be hurrying to and fro,
And lights and calls and silver din,
While through the star-freaked swirl of air
The god's sweet cruel eyes will stare.
poem by William Vaughn Moody
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To A Child
(Rosamund.)
The fairies have been busy while you slept;
They have been laughing where the sad rain wept,
They have taught Beauty to the ignorant flowers,
Set tasks of hope to weary wind-torn bowers,
And heard the lessons learned in school-rooms cold
By seedling snapdragon and marigold.
At dawn, while still you slept, I grew aware
How good the fairies are, how many and fair.
The fairy whose delightful gown is red
Across a corner of our garden sped,
And, where her flying raiment fluttered past,
Its roseate reflection still is cast:
Red poppies by the rhododendron's side,
Paeonies gorgeous in their summer pride,
And red may-bushes by the old red wall
Shower down their crimson petals over all.
Then she whose gown is gold, and gold her hair,
Swept down the golden steep straight sunbeam-stair,
She lit the tulip-lamps, she lit the torch
Of hollyhock beside the cottage porch.
She dressed the honeysuckle in fringe of gold,
She gave the king-cups fairy wealth to hold,
She kissed St. John's wort till it opened wide,
She set the yarrow by the river side.
Then came the lady all whose robes are white:
She made the pale buds blossom in delight,
Set silver stars upon the jasmine's hair,
And gave the stream white lily-buds to wear.
She painted lilies white, and pearl-white phlox,
White poppies, passion-flowers and gray-leaved stocks.
Her pure kind touch redeemed the most forlorn,
And even the vile petunia smiled, new-born.
The dearest fairy of all--green is her gown--
She kissed the plane-trees in the tiresome town,
She smoothed the pastures and the lawn's pale sheen,
She decked the boughs with hangings fresh and green,
She showed each flower the one and only way
Its beauty of shape and colour to display;
She taught the world to be a Paradise
Of changing leaf and blade, for tired eyes.
Then, one and all, they came where you were laid
In your strait bed, my little lovely maid;
The red-robed fairy kissed your lips, your face,
The white-robed made your heart her dwelling-place.
Into your eyes the green robed fairy smiled;
The golden fairy touched your dreams, my child,
And one, not named, but mightiest, made my Dear
The innermost rose of the re-flowered year.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Dusk to dawn
Dusk to dawn
The sunset sets the sky alight.
With flames if incandescent red
and nameless colours just as bright
The western skies gold burnish’ed.
The setting sun puts up a fight
but he is overpower 'ed
Must needs surrender to the night.
Reluctantly retire to bed
But come the morn he is reborn.
Refreshed he puts the night to flight.
Rising from pale pink clouds at dawn
He demonstrates his sovereign right
He knows by night the moon reflects
his burning rays as he expects.
16-Sep-08
Http: // blog.my space.com/ poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Modern Love XXXIV (sun and moon in love)
enamored moon rides a saddle of tears
wearing a belt of silver pistols
on a black star drenched stallion
tender sun wears four bodices of dawn
stretches arms of strawberry orange
above a horizon of sleeping lionesses
moon has only one color, love
moon has adored sun for eternity
letting crickets sing his lament
of dew kisses on flowers
sun rides a gondola of virginal fears
on a periwinkle ocean, peeking beneath
Icebergs pretending to be clouds
fate tempts the moon to invite sun
for a walk by green river, out beyond burr,
thistle, with fireflies orange light
on the hawthorn and reeds
maiden sun, blushing crimson red, accepts
smiling half-moon, half-mystery, extends a starless hand
tender sun holds hands of light with the waxing moon
at the far end of the universe
where there are no street lamps
where trees of silver grow bigger
and mountains of wolves
howl in hunger
sun’s petticoats rustle like wet silk
to moon’s ear, like shoots of hyacinth
the dark nipples on sun’s breasts awake
creating mother of pearl points on lace
under her dawn of auburn hair
under her blush of gold
lost in love moon makes a hollow
In the clay on the wet riverbank
placing a blanket of shimmering stars
on night’s tears
moon takes off his silver necktie
sun unbuttons her morning gown
revealing ankles of fine nard
making the eyes of the moon burn
moon removes his belt of pistols
sun her four bodices of silk
showing a sleeping seagull
on thighs spawning salmons
half swimming towards Greenland’s ices
half swimming towards Africa’s heat
startled moon desires to gallop
without bridle or stirrup,
on suns desire for endless twilights
on a most wonderful road
moon promises not to repeat
sun whispers
splattered with kisses, pepples,
wet as the color of love, empty,
silver moon took magenta sun by green river.
while swords of wild irises
stabbed at morning air.
Sun behaved like a blood gypsy.
giving moon a daughter of corn fields
in a basket of straw-hued satin
promising not to fall in love
when moon took sun to green river.
poem by Liberatore Suffoletta
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Sonnet On Receiving A Gift
Look how the golden ocean shines above
Its pebbly stones, and magnifies their girth;
So does the bright and blessed light of Love
Its own things glorify, and raise their worth.
As weeds seem flowers beneath the flattering brine,
And stones like gems, and gems as gems indeed,
Ev'n so our tokens shine; nay, they outshine
Pebbles and pearls, and gems and coral weed;
For where be ocean waves but half so clear,
So calmly constant, and so kindly warm,
As Love's most mild and glowing atmosphere,
That hath no dregs to be upturn'd by storm?
Thus, sweet, thy gracious gifts are gifts of price,
And more than gold to doting Avarice.
poem by Thomas Hood
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Violet Fire
Renewal revels on golden islands
No encumber some vicissitudes
We are the pink rocks of romance
Freedom soars on porcelain angels
Leaves of classic paganism
Inside the tubes of wet forests
Symbiotic truth in your flesh
Poetry of the inner loom
Canals pour their elastic walls
She is the hot moon
Burning trees of green wind
Blue birds like sensuous fire
All monasteries rooted in the desert
Time in pink talons on nipple mountains
Seize the moment in hungry red
Silk stockings around my cerebellum
Stars of silk decadence
Our passion reaches knowledge
Knowledge of ancient flowers
We make love for days like violet fire
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Dew
As dew leaves the cobweb lightly
Threaded with stars,
Scattering jewels on the fence
And the pasture bars;
As dawn leaves the dry grass bright
And the tangled weeds
Bearing a rainbow gem
On each of their seeds;
So has your love, my lover,
Fresh as the dawn,
Made me a shining road
To travel on,
Set every common sight
Of tree or stone
Delicately alight
For me alone.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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Fairies Come A-calling
winter fairies come
a-calling
faces pressed window panes
twinkling
frost makes lacy prints
glittering
light snow pristine pure
falling
world young life fresh
breathing
winter fairies come
a-calling
spring fairies come
a-calling
birds return twig nests
building
flowers open petals pink
blooming
fresh life everywhere
springing
pink green blue pale
coloring
easter eggs painted coats
hiding
spring fairies come
a-calling
summer fairies come
a-calling
evenings teem fireflies
sparkling
watermelon opens red
eating
grass crisps green gold
waving
wind soft thunder nights
lightning
ocean swim hazy twilights
fishing
summer fairies come
a-calling
autumn fairies come
a-calling
colors ripe red gold
falling
harvest pumpkins orange
picking
apples delicious fresh
tasting
leaves underfoot piles
crackling
autumn fairies come
a-calling
poem by Sophia White
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Alice Springs
See the sun rise so loud
This whole town gets drowned out
Sky writing with the sweep of a flashlight
Im driving over that way
Some pot of gold
Its just a carpeting store on opening day
See the moon rise so slow and shallow
It burns halos in my eyes
Its harder to swallow, harder to breathe
So many opals, nobody here knows what to believe
Theyve got me underground
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Les Ballons
Against these turbid turquoise skies
The light and luminous balloons
Dip and drift like satin moons
Drift like silken butterflies;
Reel with every windy gust,
Rise and reel like dancing girls,
Float like strange transparent pearls,
Fall and float like silver dust.
Now to the low leaves they cling,
Each with coy fantastic pose,
Each a petal of a rose
Straining at a gossamer string.
Then to the tall trees they climb,
Like thin globes of amethyst,
Wandering opals keeping tryst
With the rubies of the lime.
poem by Oscar Wilde
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Believe me not!
Recite a pleasant sonnet,
Present a stunning haiku
and write a moving ode
and sing a brilliant ballad.
There are epics created
To depict you as savior
The goddess of peace,
Prosperity and love.
And even compare you
To summer's day
To soothing twilight
To glowing full moon
To morning sunshine.
And the list grows
To the tasty fruits
And fragrant flowers
To springs fortune
To rhythmic rain
To mighty green
And curly hair on
the golden chair!
Mind you, like everyone
I too say my pal
You are my love
You are my life
You are my destiny
You are my lord
You are my world
You are my way
You are my dawn
And you are my dusk
But,
Please for god's sake,
Don't be pleased and be crushed
be careful my dear
Believe me not!
It's far from the truth
as you are still
A burning candle,
A frying fish on pan
and a hunted hare on bonfire
You are feast at noon
And a victim at night
Believe me not!
Believe me not!
poem by Chandrashekar A Posy Poet
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Nature's Love Song (a sonnet)
Nature's Love Song
Aurora's ballad wakes the sleeping Sun
and lulls the Moon to fade and sleep by light;
the Sun sends out his morning rays to shun
the dark and melt the sable cloak of night.
Impassioned by Aurora's blushing arcs
that cross a morning sky of palest blues
imbued with color and resplendent sparks
that arch in sinuous prismatic hues,
the Earth is girdled in a warm embrace
that casts a glow upon the nimbus cloud.
A cerise flush which mounts to Gaia's face
reflects her passion for the Sun, who's proud
to be the one to seed Earth Mother's womb
with energy to tend to nature's bloom.
©2008 Dawn Slanker
poem by Dawn Slanker
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