On The Dutchess Of Newcastle's Picture.
Say, Worsdcal, where you learn'd the Art
To paint the Goodness of the Heart
The flatt'ring Teint let others prize;
You call the Soul into the Eyes:
There we the various Virtues trace
Of Churchil's, and Godolphin's Race.
Thrice happy Pelham, to whose Arms
Were destin'd never--fading Charms!
poem by Mary Barber
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The Colour Of My Love
I'll paint my mood in shades of blue
Paint my soul to be with you
I'll sketch your lips in shaded tones
Draw your mouth to my own
I'll draw your arms around my waist
Then all doubt I shall erase
I'll paint the rain that softly lands on your wind-blown hair
I'll trace a hand to wipe out your tears
A look to calm your fears
A silhouette of dark and light
While we hold each other oh so tight
I'll paint a sun to warm your heart
Swearing that we'll never part
That's the colour of my love
I'll paint the truth
Show how I feel
Try to make you completely real
I'll use a brush so light and fine
To draw you close and make you mine
I'll paint the truth
Show how I feel
Try to make you completely real
I'll use a brush so light and fine
To draw you close and make you mine
I'll paint a sun to warm your heart
Swearing that we'll never part
That's the colour of my love
I'll draw the years all passing by
So much to learn so much to try
And with this ring our lives will start
Swearing that we'll never part
I offer what you cannot buy
Devoted love until we die
song performed by by Celine Dion from The Colour Of My Love
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hidden Charms
Her lips are sweet
Her legs are big
Her looks can make you
Dance the jig
Her touch is so soft
Her heart is so warm
What knocks me out
Is your hidden charms
Her voice is so soft
Her love is so true
I think about her
Thats all I do
Shes weak and wanton
In my arms
What moves me darling
Is your hidden charms
When I hold you
In my arms
Brings out all of your
Hidden charms
Her kiss is so pure
As the morning dew
A real gone love
Is exciting too
Her eyes that talk
They say cmon
What kills me baby
Is your hidden charms
When I hold you
In my arms
Brings out all of your
Hidden charms
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Writes His Name In Bold Letters
when he writes his name in bold letters
others
mistook it for a call of attention
as though
he lacks what was not given him
during his youth
it is not the hunger for fame
it is simply that
his eyes have failed him due to so much
devotion to reading
when the lights are fading
when his eyes are failing
he wants still to see his name so he may have a trace
of him
everyday fading like the sunsets in his poems
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Paint my eyes in flowers
paint my hands in dragons
paint my back in windings
paint my arms in lightening
paint my neck in anks
my forehead intricate lines
paint my shoulder butterflies
paint my heart in henna
in henna of red in henna of black
body paint my heart
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Destin
Music :rudolf schenker
Lyrics:klaus meine
Do you say a prayer when your feeling down
Do you believe that love can turn your faith around
Youre feeling high and low, but you dont know what to think
The world is full of saints who live their lives in sin
Dont ask the mirror ball you better ask yourself
I think you know the answers but maybe you cant tell
Youll see it all so clear just take a look inside
The judge you build inside your heart will always be your guide
Mon destin inscrit en toi
Mon destin inscrit en toi
Mon destin inscrit en toi
Mon destin inscrit en toi
Another day goes by and so does your life
You try to make some sense before your time to die
If you feel humility for something that is true
Youll find the secrets of this life deep inside of you
Mon destin inscrit en toi
Mon destin inscrit en toi
Mon destin inscrit en toi
The innocent wont feel the judgement day
Mon destin inscrit en toi
Mon destin inscrit en toi
Mon destin inscrit en toi
The innocent wont feel the judgement day
Mon destin inscrit en toi
Mon destin inscrit en toi
Mon destin inscrit en toi
The innocent wont feel the judgement day
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stanzas to the Rose
SWEET PICTURE of Life's chequer'd hour!
Ah, wherefore droop thy blushing head?
Tell me, oh tell me, hap'less flow'r,
Is it because thy charms are fled?
Come, gentle ROSE, and learn from me
A lesson of Philosophy.
Thy scented buds, LIFE'S joys disclose;
They strew our paths with magic sweets;
Where many a thorn like thine, fair ROSE,
Full oft the weary wand'rer meets;
And when he sees thy charms depart,
He feels thy thorn within his heart.
When Morn's bright torch illum'd the sky,
Vainly thy flaunting buds display'd
Enamell'd leaves of crimson die,
Ill-fated blossoms doom'd to fade;
So 'tis with BEAUTY, hapless flow'r,
Its lustre blooms but for an hour.
Come blushing ROSE, and on my breast
Recline thy gentle head, and die;
Thy scatter'd leaves shall there be press'd,
Bath'd with a tear from PITY'S eye;
There shall thy balmy sweets impart
An essence grateful to my heart.
Thus SYMPATHY, with lenient pow'r,
Shall bid thy fading charms bestow
Soft odours for life's happy hour,
Kind, healing balsam for its woe!
If such thy virtues, ROSE DIVINE!
OH ! MAY THY ENVIED FATE BE MINE.
poem by Mary Darby Robinson
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Ring Ring
I was sitting by the phone
I was waiting all alone
Baby by myself I sit and wait and wonder about you
Its a dark and dreary night
Seems like nothings going right
Wont you tell me honey how can I go on here without you?
Yes Im down and feeling blue
And I dont know what to do, oh-oh
Ring, ring, why dont you give me a call?
Ring, ring, the happiest sound of them all
Ring, ring, I stare at the phone on the wall
And I sit all alone impatiently
Wont you please understand the need in me
So, ring, ring, why dont you give me a call?
So, ring, ring, why dont you give me a call?
You were here and now youre gone
Hey did I do something wrong?
I just cant believe that I could be so badly mistaken
Was it me or was it you?
Tell me, are we really through?
Wont you hear me cry and you will know that my heart is breaking
Please forgive and then forget
Or maybe darling better yet, oh-oh
Ring, ring, why dont you give me a call?
Ring, ring, the happiest sound of them all
Ring, ring, I stare at the phone on the wall
And I sit all alone impatiently
Wont you please understand the need in me
So, ring, ring, why dont you give me a call?
So, ring, ring, why dont you give me a call?
Oh-oh, ring, ring, why dont you give me a call?
So, ring, ring, why dont you give me a call?
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Charm
Thrice toss these oaken ashes in the air,
Thrice sit thou mute in this enchanted chair,
Then thrice three times tie up this true love's knot,
And murmur soft 'She will, or she will not.'
Go burn these pois'nous weeds in yon blue fire,
These screech-owl's feathers and this prickling briar,
This cypress gathered at a dead man's grave,
That all my fears and cares an end may have.
Then come, you fairies! dance with me a round;
Melt her hard heart with your melodious sound.
In vain are all the charms I can devise:
She hath an art to break them with her eyes.
poem by Thomas Campion
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Thrice Toss These Oaken Ashes
Thrice toss these oaken ashes in the air,
Thrice sit thou mute in this enchanted chair,
Then thrice three times tie up this true love's knot,
And murmur soft 'She will, or she will not.'
Go burn these pois'nous weeds in yon blue fire,
These screech-owl's feathers and this prickling briar,
This cypress gathered at a dead man's grave,
That all my fears and cares an end may have.
Then come, you fairies! dance with me a round;
Melt her hard heart with your melodious sound.
In vain are all the charms I can devise:
She hath an art to break them with her eyes.
poem by Thomas Campion
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Song
Not the soft sighs of vernal gales,
The fragrance of the flowery vales,
The murmurs of the crystal rill,
The vocal grove, the verdant hill;
Not all their charms, though all unite,
Can touch my bosom with delight.
Not all the gems on India's shore,
Not all Peru's unbounded store,
Not all the power, nor all the fame,
That heroes, kings, or poets claim;
Nor knowledge which the learn'd approve,
To form one wish my soul can move.
Yet Nature's charms allure my eyes,
And knowledge, wealth, and fame I prize;
Fame, wealth, and knowledge I obtain,
Nor seek I Nature's charms in vain;
In lovely Stella all combine,
And, lovely Stella! thou art mine.
poem by Samuel Johnson
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To S. M. A Young African Painter, On Seeing His Works
TO show the lab'ring bosom's deep intent,
And thought in living characters to paint,
When first thy pencil did those beauties give,
And breathing figures learnt from thee to live,
How did those prospects give my soul delight,
A new creation rushing on my sight?
Still, wond'rous youth! each noble path pursue,
On deathless glories fix thine ardent view:
Still may the painter's and the poet's fire
To aid thy pencil, and thy verse conspire!
And may the charms of each seraphic theme
Conduct thy footsteps to immortal fame!
High to the blissful wonders of the skies
Elate thy soul, and raise thy wishful eyes.
Thrice happy, when exalted to survey
That splendid city, crown'd with endless day,
Whose twice six gates on radiant hinges ring:
Celestial Salem blooms in endless spring.
Calm and serene thy moments glide along,
And may the muse inspire each future song!
Still, with the sweets of contemplation bless'd,
May peace with balmy wings your soul invest!
But when these shades of time are chas'd away,
And darkness ends in everlasting day,
On what seraphic pinions shall we move,
And view the landscapes in the realms above?
There shall thy tongue in heav'nly murmurs flow,
And there my muse with heav'nly transport glow:
No more to tell of Damon's tender sighs,
Or rising radiance of Aurora's eyes,
For nobler themes demand a nobler strain,
And purer language on th' ethereal plain.
Cease, gentle muse! the solemn gloom of night
Now seals the fair creation from my sight.
poem by Phillis Wheatley
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Godolphin Horne
Who was cursed with the Sin of Pride, and Became a Boot-Black.
Godolphin Horne was Nobly Born;
He held the Human Race in Scorn,
And lived with all his Sisters where
His father lived, in Berkeley Square.
And oh! The Lad was Deathly Proud!
He never shook your Hand or Bowed,
But merely smirked and nodded thus:
How perfectly ridiculous!
Alas! That such Affected Tricks
Should flourish in a Child of Six!
(For such was Young Godolphin's age).
Just then, the Court required a Page,
Whereat the Lord High Chamberlain
(The Kindest and the Best of Men),
He went good-naturedly and took
A perfectly enormous Book
Called People Qualified to Be
Attendant on His Majesty,
And murmured, as he scanned the list
(To see that no one should be missed),
"There's William Coutts has got the Flu,
And Billy Higgs would never do,
And Guy de Vere is far too young,
And ... wasn't D'Alton's father hung?
And as for Alexander Byng!-...
I think I know the kind of thing,
A Churchman, cleanly, nobly born,
Come, let us say Godolphin Horne?"
But hardly had he said the word
When Murmurs of Dissent were heard.
The King of Iceland's Eldest Son
Said, "Thank you! I am taking none!"
The Aged Duchess of Athlone
Remarked, in her sub-acid tone,
"I doubt if He is what we need!"
With which the Bishops all agreed;
And even Lady Mary Flood
(So kind, and oh! So really good)
Said, "No! He wouldn't do at all,
He'd make us feel a lot too small."
The Chamberlain said, "Well, well, well!
No doubt you're right. One cannot tell!"
He took his Gold and Diamond Pen
And scratched Godolphin out again.
So now Godolphin is the Boy
Who Blacks the Boots at the Savoy.
poem by Hilaire Belloc
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Sonnet 65: Love By Sure Proof
Love by sure proof I may call thee unkind,
That giv'st no better ear to my just cries:
Thou whom to me such my good turns should bind,
As I may well recount, but none can prize:
For when, nak'd boy, thou couldst no harbor find
In this old world, grown now so too too wise,
I lodg'd thee in my heart, and being blind
Bu nature born, I gave to thee mine eyes.
Mine eyes, my light, my heart, my life alas,
If so great services may scorned be,
Yet let this thought thy tigrish courage pass:
That I perhaps am somewhat kin to thee,
Since in thine arms, if learn'd fame truth hath spread,
Thou bear'st the arrow, I the arrowhead.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Don Juan, Where Have You Gone?
Don Juan where have you gone?
Are you waiting for me on my front lawn?
Why, you have fallen for my seductive disguise,
But will you win my heart as the prize?
How will I know your heart is pure,
For you have won many affection with your allure.
We must not make a stir,
Run away with me to my boudoir.
Melt with me into my arms,
Fall for my hidden charms.
For there you will see,
You are meant to be with me.
Jan.13,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Love Plus One
I, I went off to the right
Without saying goodbye, goodbye
Where does it go from here?
Is it down to the lake I fear?
Ay ah ah ah ah ah
Ay ah ah ah ah ah
Then I call
Ring (ring) ring (ring) ring (ring) ring (ring)
La la love plus one
Ring (ring) ring (ring) ring (ring) ring (ring)
When I call love
Give love some soul
If I may be quite so bold
Where does it go from here?
Is it down to the lake I fear?
Ay ah ah ah ah ah
Ay ah ah ah ah ah
Then I call
Ring (ring) ring (ring) ring (ring) ring (ring)
La la love plus one
Ring (ring) ring (ring) ring (ring) ring (ring)
When I call love
Love plus one
song performed by by Haircut 100
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mock Panegyric on a Young Friend
In measured verse I'll now rehearse
The charms of lovely Anna:
And, first, her mind is unconfined
Like any vast savannah.
Ontario's lake may fitly speak
Her fancy's ample bound:
Its circuit may, on strict survey
Five hundred miles be found.
Her wit descends on foes and friends
Like famed Niagara's fall;
And travellers gaze in wild amaze,
And listen, one and all.
Her judgment sound, thick, black, profound,
Like transatlantic groves,
Dispenses aid, and friendly shade
To all that in it roves.
If thus her mind to be defined
America exhausts,
And all that's grand in that great land
In similes it costs --
Oh how can I her person try
To image and portray?
How paint the face, the form how trace,
In which those virtues lay?
Another world must be unfurled,
Another language known,
Ere tongue or sound can publish round
Her charms of flesh and bone.
poem by Jane Austen
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Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet XXIV
And, feeling round him, lo, upon the mould
A pick and spade cast down by accident.
And Adrian laughed when in those engines cold
He guessed the furtherers of his heart's intent.
And all night through he wrought with them in rage,
As miners do who know the prize at hand.
Blest Adrian! Now thy lips thou shalt engage
In the full solace thy long love has planned.
Her face is near thee. Speed thee on thy task.
Her breast's fair purity is thine to kiss.
She shall not now deny though thou shouldst ask
Her whole soul's prize in ransom of thy bliss.
Thrice happy Adrian! See, thy hands have slid
Trembling on thy Natalia's coffin lid.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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The Race Towards Home
No need to sit in despair for very soon we will meet Him in the air.
We need to prioritize our life and begin with The Lord Jesus Christ.
Not only is He The Only Way but the author and finisher of our Faith.
In this life we sometimes call a race; He alone sets the winning pace.
Upon Jesus Christ we must fix our eyes if we desire to win the prize.
We must be focused upon The Lord and not run on our own accord.
One thing you must consider too, is get rid of all that hinders you.
For in this race if you want to win, you must cast aside your sin.
Consider more than grievous sin, all your cares you must cast on Him.
Anything that wastes your time could impede you at the finish line.
No need to enter leery, with Christ you will run and not grow weary.
When you’re established in the race you receive God’s Awesome Grace.
Faith’s not hindered by many things as we sore with eagle’s wings.
Remembering those who finished before gives you strength to endure.
Many run the race as fools but you only finish if you obey the rules.
Some who believe they had a start will only hear the Lord say depart.
But a faithful race will warrant Christ saying well done faithful servant.
This earthly race soon will end, and then we’ll see our Lord and friend.
On the day He parts the skies; all the faithful will gain the prize.
From this earth the Church will rise to gain a body that never dies.
Many have entered without a change to find they ran their race in vain.
For the reason that they must depart is they ran without their heart.
A Race Already Won
We’re in a race already won, in the race we daily run,
It is the race we call life, won for us by Jesus Christ,
A race we run so many ways, living out all our days,
Racing upon this earth, for a crown of Eternal worth.
As we run for that prize, in this race, we fix our eyes,
On The Author of our faith, guiding us by His Grace,
For as we live this daily life, we run into undue strife,
Difficulties along our way, we go through every day.
We remember as we run, that the race has been won,
For this Truth we receive, when, in Christ, we believe,
Our Lord, in Who we trust, won this race for all of us,
When He finished at Calvary, providing to us Victory.
So when we run into a test, in our Lord, we shall rest,
As we are in God’s Hand, when we don’t understand,
So in the midst of the race, we simply seek His face,
Then He gives to us peace, as we run doesn’t cease.
Anyone today can choose, this race, they can’t lose,
The race that’s been won, by Jesus, God’s own Son,
And to Him alone we raise, as a victor, eternal praise,
As we gain Eternal Life, in this race with Jesus Christ.
(Copyright ©01/2010)
Don Juan, Where Have You Gone?
Don Juan where have you gone?
Are you waiting for me on my front lawn?
Why, you have fallen for my seductive disguise,
But will you win my heart as the prize?
How will I know your heart is pure,
For you have won many affection with your allure.
We must not make a stir,
Run away with me to my boudoir.
Melt with me into my arms,
Fall for my hidden charms.
For there you will see,
You are meant to be with me.
Written on Jan.13,2011 by Christina Sunrise
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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