Sonnet XXIII
What good is it to me that once you praised
The golden splendour of my plaited hair,
Or that to two bright Suns you would compare
The beauty of my eyes, from which Love gazed
And shot the cruel darts so expertly ?
Where are you now, tears that so quickly dried ?
Or death, which was to prove you would abide
By oath of love and solemn loyalty ?
Or did you seek from malice to delude,
Slavery by pretending servitude ?
Forgive the thought, this once, my dearest one,
When grief and anger fiercely combine;
I know, wherever you may have gone,
Your martyrdom is as harsh as mine.
poem by Louise Labe
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An Anthem for the Australasian League
SHALL we sing of Loyalty
To the far South’s fiery youth?
Yea—but let the pæan be
Of loyalty to God and Truth:
To Man, to progress, and to all
The free things, nobly free,
Of which their loved Australia shall
The golden cradle be.
Hark! her star-eyed Destinies
Pour their voices o’er the seas—
Hither, to the Land of Gold,
All who would be free!
Here a diadem behold
For immortal Liberty!
Not for Old World queens and kings,
Villain Slavery’s outworn things!
Shall we sing of Loyalty
In this new and genial Land?
Yea—but let the pæan be
Of loyalty to Love’s command,
To Thought, to Beauty, and to all
The glorious Arts that yet
In golden Australasia shall
Like chrysolites be set.
poem by Charles Harpur
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The Change
LOVE in her sunny eyes does basking play;
Love walks the pleasant mazes of her hair;
Love does on both her lips for ever stray
And sows and reaps a thousand kisses there.
In all her outward parts Love's always seen;
But, oh, He never went within.
Within Love's foes, his greatest foes abide,
Malice, Inconstance, and Pride.
So the Earth's face, trees, herbs, and flowers do dress,
With other beauties numberless;
But at the center, darkness is, and Hell;
There wicked spirits, and there the Damned dwell.
With me alas, quite contrary it fares;
Darkness and death lies in my weeping eyes,
Despair and paleness in my face appears,
And grief, and fear, Love's greatest enemies;
But, like the Persian tyrant, Love within
Keeps his proud court, and ne're is seen.
Oh take my heart, and by that means you'll prove
Within, too stor'd enough of Love;
Give me but yours, I'll by that change so thrive,
That Love in all my parts shall live.
So powerful is this change, it render can,
My outside woman, and your inside man.
poem by Abraham Cowley
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Seek Beauty
how long
and how lonely
are the steeps of your lies
and yet
how painfully liberating is the path that your truth requires?
so seek
seek beauty
in laughter and in tears
seek love
and fantastic colours just may highlight the dust in your eyes
seek beauty
coz in the end
when the lamp oil
burnt the flicker once and for all
we fade
we perish in that final hour
savouring the promise of glorious dawn
so seek
seek beauty in the ugly and in the vain
seek love
and fantastic colours just may highlight
the dust in your eyes
seek beauty
and take joy
in your daily struggle
let go repulsion as it clings to the shock
discovery
entering illumination
the transformation of matter into void
so seek
seek beauty
in corruption and in the pure
seek love
and fantastic colours just may highlight the dust in your eyes
seek beauty
seek beauty!
poem by Andrew JansBrown
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I love my hair
I love my hair
I always toss it around in the air
As if without a care!
I love my hair
Once I caught the super hair bug
Caught it whilst I slept on an old rug
The super lice were playing scratch, scratch, and scratch
While my fingernails were playing catch, catch and catch
Finally my hair was shaven as there was no cure, no other drug
I wore my head on my shoulder for a while with a distasteful shrug
Hiding underneath a cap with obvious bald patches that seemed to match
I love my hair
Long, golden plaited and brown
Enough to move heads around in town
People just want to come near
And stare! Stare at me! Who is that alien from elsewhere?
My hair is beautifully plaited in strands
This kind of hair fashion is high in demand
So many different styles to experiment with and expand
Today a woman needs to look good, do you understand?
I talk to my hair with oils
I say today I need you to curl
And when I style you,
Stay in place, do not spoil!
I wash my hair twice a day
Maybe when I am old, it would go grey
But for now the beauty is here to stay
I hope so, I definitely pray!
Beware all, take care
I love my hair, I love my hair
Don’t touch! But you can stare
You can stare at how I wear
My beautiful hair!
Try and out-do me if you dare!
I love my hair
I like to show it off
Around me do not sneeze or cough
Or with you I can be horribly tough
Around me do not sneeze or cough
If you don’t want to know the meaning of rough
I mean it, this isn’t a bluff!
I love my hair!
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Sonnet 48: Soul's Joy, Bend Not
Soul's joy, bend not those morning stars from me,
Where Virtue is made strong by Beauty's might,
Where Love is chasteness, Pain doth learn delight,
And Humbleness grows one with Majesty.
Whatever may ensue, oh let me be
Copartner of the riches of that sight:
Let not mine eyes be hell-driv'n from that light:
Oh look, oh shine, oh let me die and see.
For though I oft myself of them bemoan,
That though my heart their beamy darts be gone,
Whose cureless wounds ev'n now most freshly bleed:
Yet since my death-wound is already got,
Dear killer, spare not thy sweet cruel shot:
A kind of grace it is to kill with speed.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Grief sat beside the fount of tears
Grief sat beside the fount of tears,
And dipt her garland in it,
While all the paly flowers she wears
Grew fainter every minute.
Joy gamboled by the other side,
In gay and artless guise,
And to her gloomy sister cried,
With laughter in her eyes--
``Oh! prithee leave that stupid task,
That melancholy fountain;
I go in Pleasure's sun to bask,
Or dance up Fancy's mountain.''
``Insolent fooler!--go--beware,''
Said Grief, in moody tone,
``How thus you frivolously dare
Approach my solemn throne!''
And then, on Joy's fair wreath she threw,
With sideward glance of malice,
Some drops of that embitter'd dew
Fresh from a poison'd chalice.
But Joy laugh'd on;--``In vain, in vain
You try to blight one flower;
That which you meant for fatal bane
Shall prove my brightest dower:--
``Friendship and Love on every leaf
Shall wear the pearly toy,
And all, who shrink from tears of Grief,
Shall pray for tears of Joy.''
poem by Richard Monckton Milnes Houghton
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The Coquet
TIS, in good truth, a most wonderful thing
(I am even ashamed to relate it)
That love so many vexations should bring,
And yet few have the wit to hate it.
Love's weather in maids should seldom hold fair:
Like April's mine shall quickly alter;
I'll give him to-night a lock of my hair,
To whom next day I'll send a halter.
I cannot abide these malapert males,
Pirates of love, who know no duty;
Yet love with a storm can take down their sales,
And they must strike to Admiral Beauty.
Farewell to that maid who will be undone,
Who in markets of men (where plenty
Is cried up and down) will die for even one;
I will live to make fools of twenty.
poem by Sir William Davenant
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The Last Love Song
Precious Family... Dearest Family...
Love's... sweet.... message....I impart....
May loves's.. spirt...pure... and fervid.....
Enter...every... troubled heart.........
Carry there...love's swift conviction....
Turning back...those... tear filled life's....
Precious Family... Dearest Family.....
May love....In our souls.. abide..........
Precious Family.... Dearest family....
I am weak...... but love..is strong..........
Love.. has.....infinite compassion.......
To stem the tides... of pain's.... and wrong's.....
Love keep's... its arms.... around me........
Love keep's..... me... in the narrow.. way......
Precious Family....Dearest family........
Let us never... from love... stray............
Precious Family... Dearest Family....
Love will bind.....those broken.... hearts.....
So let..not sorrows... over.. whelm..us.....
Dry the bitter tears.... that smart.....
Love curbs the winds.. calms the bil....lows
Oh bid.... this angry tempest... cease......
Precious Family.... My Dearest Family
Love gave me... everlasting.....peace.....
One day if my family should ever read this, or if anyone else should?
I want them to know that, only with true love, can we turn back those life's of abuse...! You see abuse has held my family in a prison, that has no bars! No cells! No doors! So....
Maybe one day they will understand
This dream of mine
How great and glorious, love complete
They'll find
For redemption, forgiveness
It is true love's grand design
For when and where
Justice, love and mercy meet.
Its a harmony - So- devine
And fact is
Love is the only dream of mine
So love marks my path and leads my way
For my pains and tears, at every point
Love re-de-fines
To light and life and endless summer days
Love is this dream... of mine....
poem by Clyde Bryson
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Tears & Sorrow = Denver 2012
TEARS
Tears are the raindrops of the soul
And there's one for all who die.
They are the silent words of grief
As they fall free from the eye.
The shortest verse in the Bible
Is the one where Jesus wept
So, if you hold back tears, shed them
When your pain is too harsh to accept.
Tears are lovelier than a smile
When they come from those you love
As they seek relief from sadness
When you're summoned from above.
Tears are a love-mates humble gift
When it's time to say goodbye
Though the eyes are wet and swollen
With time and patience they dry.
SORROW
Sorrow is better than laughter
For by grieving, we're improved.
Blessed be all who morn
Till from sadness they're removed.
After death our souls shall fly
Perhaps from star to star
Reaching our destination
To find Heaven's gate ajar.
God made us able to cry
Sorrow teaches us to fear
Those days we're selfish and cruel
When life is so short and dear.
Time wipes tears from all faces
Whose hearts are tuned to sorrow.
Those that cry a thousand tears
Shall be blessed by tomorrow.
Every night before sleep I say thank you to Heaven
For the past day I was allowed to love you and serve.
And if I awake I say thank you once more
For God has blessed me far beyond what I deserve.
Death and I
When death comes
I’ll need not love –
Consumed,
No wreath or dove
Could offer me salvation,
Not when I’m no more.
A weathered stone will bear my name –
Identity of once a being
Living out existence in
A world of risk, and never seeing
Sense of why we’re here.
My genes will die away thro’ child –
Hue of eyes and hair, the way of thought,
Will quickly dim with generation –
Bow to future dominance –
Memories of provenance
Resigned to curious few.
When death comes
I’ll need not grace
Below; no grieving face
Will call my resurrection,
Not when I’m at ground –
Death and I so bound.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
D eath Crawl
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Rondel
THESE many years since we began to be,
What have the gods done with us? what with me,
What with my love? they have shown me fates and fears,
Harsh springs, and fountains bitterer than the sea,
Grief a fixed star, and joy a vane that veers,
These many years.
With her, my love, with her have they done well?
But who shall answer for her? who shall tell
Sweet things or sad, such things as no man hears?
May no tears fall, if no tears ever fell,
From eyes more dear to me than starriest spheres
These many years!
But if tears ever touched, for any grief,
Those eyelids folded like a white-rose leaf,
Deep double shells wherethrough the eye-flower peers,
Let them weep once more only, sweet and brief,
Brief tears and bright, for one who gave her tears
These many years.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet XVII
Nor yet in vain. For to him through the rout
Behold, 'mid herald whispers of her name
And laughing eyes and welcome hands held out,
Natalia's self behind her husband came,
Her face arrayed in smiles, as who should say
She held a secret string of happiness
Joined to her heart grief could not take away.
And Adrian gazed at her in rapturous bliss,
Knowing his love had triumphed o'er the grave
And she at last was his, a heritage
For ever for his heart to hold and have,
In spite of change and death's untimely rage
And the long tempest of forgotten tears,
The pain, the anger and the grief of years.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Tears
When I am lonely
I tell my tears to come
But they come now and then
As they find me lonely
Among the people.
I was thinking last night
About a beautiful thought
As they found the beauty
In my both bright eyes
They couldn't remain there
Just they rolling out.
They are not the weakness
But they speak the languages
Of the heart of love and grief
Which my heart can't express
A dropp of them tells thousands in brief.
Tears are the safety valve of my heart
And clean my eyes to make them bright
More helps me to see the life a new
This power to see belongs to a very few.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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I’m Pretending
I’m pretending nothing happened,
that we are still together.
I’m pretending you never
went away with someone new.
I’m pretending we are still a couple,
that you are still nearby.
I’m pretending,
pretending
I am still with you.
I’m pretending that our love
still shines brightly.
I’m pretending that you still care
and lying to myself each day.
I’m pretending that you just stepped out
and that you are not far away.
I’m pretending,
pretending
I am still with you.
I’m pretending it always summer
and that winter never comes.
I’m pretending life is as it was
and I’m forever with you.
I’m pretending you are with me
and not in the arms of someone new.
I’m pretending that I am smiling
and that I’m not feeling blue.
I’m pretending,
pretending
I am still with you.
20 April 2009
poem by David Harris
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Play Me
I must say youre really something else
The way youre tearing down my house
And I know youd never stoop so low
As to rebuild it somewhere else
You know how to play me
Everybody knows you can handle me
Play me
Nothing can compare with what Ive found today
It hasnt always been this good
I havent always loved you like I should
But its really something else
I love you like I never thought I could
You got to play me
Everybody knows I been woman handled
Play me
Nothing can compare with what Ive found today
Been out on my own
For too many years
You came not a day too soon - I was out of my mind
You swallowed my pride
And dried all my tears
Gone is the only tune
I sang
You really know
You really know how to
You really know how to play me
All the women of my dreams
Were the kind who lived beyond my means
But I know youd never stoop so low
Your love is always what it seems
You got to play me
Everybody knows Ive been - woman handled
Play me
Nothing can compare with what Ive found today
Here in the night
Its a shot in the dark
For sure thats a chance Ill take -one day at a time
A feeling so right
Its a walk in the park
Its so easy to make or break
She sang
So easy
Suis reste seul
Pour trop longtemps
Vide de coeur
Vide de sens
Tu es arrivee
Secher mes larmes
Reconforte, je te regarde
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dance With The Wind
I'm doing the best I can,
Trying to remember I should forgive you.
Doing what I can,
To issue you 'another' benefit of doubt.
I am pursuing to rest my bitterness...
And let peace between us exist.
But there is one thing wrong.
And I tell myself we 'should' get along.
But deep in my heart,
Where my feelings play a part?
They have a problem pretending,
Forgiving you will bring them to bliss!
When you are not around...
There is a joy and happiness!
They would rather be left alone...
Disliking you!
And 'that' is the conflict I am having too!
I can say the words...
But being dishonest like you,
Isn't what I find like you I can do.
And trying it is not even on my mind!
Teardrops have long dried from my eyes!
And pretending I am glad to see you...?
I am not good at playing charades,
Dressing up for masquerades...
Or putting on smiles to disguise!
But I would love to see you,
Dance with the wind...
Over there!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Eye of the Beholder
IF, as they tell in stories old,
The waters of Pactolus roll’d
Over a sand of shifting gold;
If ever there were fairies, such
As those that charm the child so much,
With jewels growing ’neath their touch;
If, in the wine-cup’s sweet deceit,
There lies a secret pleasant cheat,
That turns to beauty all we meet;
The stream, the fairy, and the wine,
In the first love of youth combine
To make its object seem divine.
No golden sand of fabl’d river,
No jewel glittering for ever,
No wine-born vision’s melting quiver,
In vivid glory can compare
With that which we ourselves prepare
To throw round that we fancy fair.
Never such beauty glittered yet,
In golden beams of suns that set
On cupola and minaret.
Never such beauty met men’s eyes
In silver light of moons that rise
O’er lonely lakes ’neath tropic skies.
The world holds nothing of such worth,
There ’s nothing half so fair on earth,
As that to which the heart gives birth:
External beauties pall and fade;
But that which my own soul hath made,
To my conception, knows no shade.
To every ark there comes a dove,
To every heart from heaven above
Is sent a beauty born of love.
The moonlit lake, the waving trees,
It is the eye which looks on these
That makes the loveliness it sees.
Out of myself the beauty grows,
Out of myself the beauty flows
That decks the petals of the rose.
So, when at Ada’s feet I lay,
And saw her glorious as the day,
’Twas my own heart that lent the ray.
poem by James Lionel Michael
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Error And Loss
Upon an eve I sat me down and wept,
Because the world to me seemed nowise good;
Still autumn was it, & the meadows slept,
The misty hills dreamed, and the silent wood
Seemed listening to the sorrow of my mood:
I knew not if the earth with me did grieve,
Or if it mocked my grief that bitter eve.
Then ’twixt my tears a maiden did I see,
Who drew anigh me on the leaf-strewn grass,
Then stood and gazed upon me pitifully
With grief-worn eyes, until my woe did pass
From me to her, and tearless now I was,
And she mid tears was asking me of one
She long had sought unaided and alone.
I knew not of him, and she turned away
Into the dark wood, and my own great pain
Still held me there, till dark had slain the day,
And perished at the grey dawn’s hand again;
Then from the wood a voice cried: “Ah, in vain,
In vain I seek thee, O thou bitter-sweet!
In what lone land are set thy longed-for feet?”
Then I looked up, and lo, a man there came
From midst the trees, and stood regarding me
Until my tears were dried for very shame;
Then he cried out: “O mourner, where is she
Whom I have sought o’er every land and sea?
I love her and she loveth me, and still
We meet no more than green hill meeteth hill.”
With that he passed on sadly, and I knew
That these had met and missed in the dark night,
Blinded by blindness of the world untrue,
That hideth love and maketh wrong of right.
Then midst my pity for their lost delight,
Yet more with barren longing I grew weak,
Yet more I mourned that I had none to seek.
poem by William Morris
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Kiss Of Death
I stood there beside myself,
Thinking hard about the weather
Then came by a friend of mine
Suggested we go out together
Then I knew it from the start:
This friend of mine would fall apart
Pretending not to see his gun,
I said "let's go out and have some fun"
I know, you know, you believe in a land of love
I know, you know, we believe in a land of love
I have always thought about
Staying here and going out
Tonight I should have stayed at home,
Playing with my pleasure zone
He has always been so strange,
I'd often thought he was deranged
Pretending not to see his gun,
I said "let's go out and have some fun"
I know, you know, we believe in a land of love
I know, you know, we believe in a land of love
When you are alone at night
You search yourself for all the things
That you believe are right
If you give it all away
You throw away your only chance to be here today
Then a fight breaks out on your street
You lose another broken heart in a land of meat
My friend, he took his final breath
Now I know the perfect kiss is the kiss of death
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet XII: Indeed This Very Love
Indeed this very love which is my boast,
And which, when rising up from breast to brow,
Doth crown me with ruby large enow
To draw men's eyes and prove the inner cost,--
This love even, all my worth, to the uttermost,
I should not love withal, unless that thou
Hadst set me an example, shown me how,
When first thine earnest eyes with mine were crossed,
And love called love. And thus, I cannot speak
Of love even, as good thing of my own:
Thy soul hath snatched up mine all faint and weak,
And placed it by thee on a golden throne,--
And that I love (O soul, we must be meek--)
Is by thee only, whom I love alone.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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