I Charge You
I charge you, O winds of the West, O winds with the wings of the dove,
That ye blow o'er the brows of my Love, breathing low that I sicken for love.
I charge you, O dews of the Dawn, O tears of the star of the morn,
That ye fall at the feet of my love with the sound of one weeping forlorn.
I charge you, O birds of the Air, O birds flying home to your nest,
That ye sing in his ears of the joy that for ever has fled from my breast.
I charge you, O flowers of the Earth, O frailest of things, and most fair,
That ye droop in his path as the life in me shrivels consumed by despair.
O Moon, when he lifts up his face, when he seeth the waning of thee,
A memory of her who lies wan on the limits of life let it be.
Many tears cannot quench, nor my sighs extinguish, the flames of love's fire,
Which lifteth my heart like a wave, and smites it, and breaks its desire.
I rise like one in a dream when I see the red sun flaring low,
That drags me back shuddering from sleep each morning to life with its woe.
I go like one in a dream, unbidden my feet know the way
To that garden where love stood in blossom with the red and white hawthorn of May.
The song of the throstle is hushed, and the fountain is dry to its core,
The moon cometh up as of old; she seeks, but she finds him no more.
The pale-faced, pitiful moon shines down on the grass where I weep,
My face to the earth, and my breast in an anguish ne'er soothed into sleep.
The moon returns, and the spring, birds warble, trees burst into leaf,
But Love once gone, goes for ever, and all that endures is the grief.
poem by Mathilde Blind
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Love-Trilogy
I.
SHE stood against the Orient sun,
Her face inscrutable for light;
A myriad larks in unison
Sang o'er her, soaring out of sight.
A myriad flowers around her feet
Burst flame-like from the yielding sod,
Till all the wandering airs were sweet
With incense mounting up to God.
A mighty rainbow shook, inclined
Towards her, from the Occident,
Girdling the cloud-wrack which enshrined
Half the light-bearing firmament.
Lit showers flashed golden o'er the hills,
And trees flung silver to the breeze,
And, scattering diamonds, fleet-foot rills
Fled laughingly across the leas.
Yea Love, the skylarks laud but thee,
And writ in flowers thine awful name;
Spring is thy shade, dread Ecstasy,
And life a brand which feeds thy flame.
II.
WINDING all my life about thee,
Let me lay my lips on thine;
What is all the world without thee,
Mine--oh mine!
Let me press my heart out on thee,
Crush it like a fiery vine,
Spilling sacramental on thee
Love's red wine.
Let thy strong eyes yearning o'er me
Draw me with their force divine;
All my soul has gone before me
Clasping thine.
Irresistibly I follow,
As wherever we may run
Runs our shadow, as the swallow
Seeks the sun.
Yea, I tremble, swoon, surrender
All my spirit to thy sway,
As a star is drowned in splendour
Of the day.
III.
I CHARGE you, O winds of the West, O winds with the wings of the dove,
That ye blow o'er the brows of my Love, breathing low that I sicken for love.
I charge you, O dews of the Dawn, O tears of the star of the morn,
That ye fall at the feet of my love with the sound of one weeping forlorn.
I charge you, O birds of the Air, O birds flying home to your nest,
That ye sing in his ears of the joy that for ever has fled from my breast.
I charge you, O flowers of the Earth, O frailest of things, and most fair,
That ye droop in his path as the life in me shrivels consumed by despair.
O Moon, when he lifts up his face, when he seeth the waning of thee,
A memory of her who lies wan on the limits of life let it be.
Many tears cannot quench, nor my sighs extinguish, the flames of love's fire,
Which lifteth my heart like a wave, and smites it, and breaks its desire.
I rise like one in a dream when I see the red sun flaring low,
That drags me back shuddering from sleep each morning to life with its woe.
I go like one in a dream, unbidden my feet know the way
To that garden where love stood in blossom with the red and white hawthorn of May.
The song of the throstle is hushed, and the fountain is dry to its core,
The moon cometh up as of old; she seeks, but she finds him no more.
The pale-faced, pitiful moon shines down on the grass where I weep,
My face to the earth, and my breast in an anguish ne'er soothed into sleep.
The moon returns, and the spring, birds warble, trees burst into leaf,
But Love once gone, goes for ever, and all that endures is the grief.
poem by Mathilde Blind
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
There is no Charge...
Generosity of the earth,
For whatever its worth.
There is no charge
The fragrance of flowers,
At any time and hour.
There is no charge
The shade of a beckoning tree,
Offering shelter to a refugee.
There is no charge
The birds early morning orchestra,
Uplifting like chanting a mantra.
There is no charge
Motherly caress of the gentle breeze,
So soothing, stress is released.
There is no charge
Days and nights,
Nature’s cues to sleep and rise.
There is no charge
Watching the ebb and flow of ocean tide,
As the Sun sets and goes to hide.
There is no charge
did you say everything is expensive,
how can any one be happy.
What if nature gave you a whack
And tried to teach you what is lack.
Can you handle her balance sheet?
Indignant, you’ll scream, you cheat, you cheat.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Dreamed Of Forest Alleys fair
I.
I DREAMED of forest alleys fair
And fields of gray-flowered grass,
Where by the yellow summer moon
My Jenny seemed to pass.
I dreamed the yellow summer moon,
Behind a cedar wood,
Lay white on fields of rippling grass
Where I and Jenny stood.
I dreamed - but fallen through my dream,
In a rainy land I lie
Where wan wet morning crowns the hills
Of grim reality.
II.
I am as one that keeps awake
All night in the month of June,
That lies awake in bed to watch
The trees and great white moon.
For memories of love are more
Than the white moon there above,
And dearer than quiet moonshine
Are the thoughts of her I love.
III.
Last night I lingered long without
My last of loves to see.
Alas! the moon-white window-panes
Stared blindly back on me.
To-day I hold her very hand,
Her very waist embrace -
Like clouds across a pool, I read
Her thoughts upon her face.
And yet, as now, through her clear eyes
I seek the inner shrine -
I stoop to read her virgin heart
In doubt if it be mine -
O looking long and fondly thus,
What vision should I see?
No vision, but my own white face
That grins and mimics me.
IV.
Once more upon the same old seat
In the same sunshiny weather,
The elm-trees' shadows at their feet
And foliage move together.
The shadows shift upon the grass,
The dial point creeps on;
The clear sun shines, the loiterers pass,
As then they passed and shone.
But now deep sleep is on my heart,
Deep sleep and perfect rest.
Hope's flutterings now disturb no more
The quiet of my breast.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The New Moon
What have you got in your knapsack fair,
White moon, bright moon, pearling the air,
Spinning your bobbins and fabrics free,
Fleet moon, sweet moon, in to the sea?
Turquoise and beryl and rings of gold,
Clear moon, dear moon, ne’er to be sold?
Roses and lilies, romance and love,
Still moon, chill moon, swinging above?
Slender your feet as a white birds throat,
High moon, shy moon, drifting your boat
Into the murk of the world awhile,
Slim moon, dim moon, adding a smile.
Tender your eyes as a maiden’s kiss,
Fine moon, wine moon, no one knows this,
Under the spell of your witchery,
Dream moon, cream moon, first he kissed me.
poem by Zora Bernice May Cross
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
At The Last.
The sky grows white with the moon,
And the sea yearns up to the night
As the soul to an unknown height,
Drawn thence by a starry rune.
Only a lost wind strays,
Like the breath of Passion blown
In the vault of the night unknown;
And the heart in me sobs and says:
'After a while we, too,
Shall rest as the stars above,
When we have no more to do
With the dream of life and love.'
O Time! thy feet that run
Over the hills and waves,
Over the cradles and graves,
From the first to the final sun!
Some day thou too shalt cease —
Some way there'll come to thee
Death's white tranquility,
The boon of an awful peace —
When the latest grief shall flow
With the surge that drifts away,
And the Night shall no more go
In her endless chase of Day.
Then shall the worn heart rest,
Then shall the sad Sea yearn
No more for the Moon's return,
Like a bird on its frozen nest
Dead, with her young ones dead
Under her breast on the bough,
Where nothing can wake them now —
Not the Dawn with its golden tread:
Where Death has been good to all,
Good to the mother and young,
And the dreams are beyond recall,
And the songs have all been sung.
So, at the last, to sleep!
So, at the last, to be
Still as the dead still sea!
Never to wake and weep,
Never to know Love's pain,
Never to yearn on for
What is gone for evermore;
To be as we were again
Ere we came o'er the bourne of birth,
Ere we knew of the fading flowers,
Of love and of life on Earth
And the hearts that were not ours!
poem by Robert Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Moon, Moon, Crazy Moon
moon, moon, crazy moon
natural moon
torn apart and snoozing moon;
lovely moon, romantic moon
poor poor moon
the romance
plucked out of its drab surface;
moon moon going wild
moon moon running away
from the earth -
O moon, why do you run away from the earth?
does earth touch you in the wrong places
and you've got no Body
to which one could lodge
a complaint about sexual harassment? ?
ah, moon moon, temperamental moon
dark moon
glowing moon;
sexy moon
and old-woman hag of a moon;
moon moon with the best views of the earth
moon moon moon
puts me to sleep and wakes me up
in the middle of nights;
and one day we'll sleep in the moon
and produce babies there
and we'll have the first moon-ish boys and girls
and moon-ly families;
but meanwhile
moon moon driving fanatics
and inspiring love and romance and myths
moon moon eerie moon
moon moon that presides over love and horrors
and evil and good
and naked witches dancing in moonlit groves;
pooor moon moon the earth moon
not as interesting and dramatic as other moons;
don't get too friendly and dropp in -
oh, never dropp in, no one invited you
silly mooonn, no no, you're not invited home to earth
moon moon cheese moon eaten by mice;
but still our dear moon darling moon
moon mooon
our very own earth's moon
as we moo moo like cows
moo moo moo mooo
at our own moon moon moon
poem by Raj Arumugam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Lover And The Moon
A LOVER whom duty called over the wave,
With himself communed: 'Will my love be true
If left to herself? Had I better not sue
Some friend to watch over her, good and grave?
But my friend might fail in my need,' he said,
'And I return to find love dead.
Since friendships fade like the flow'rs of June,
I will leave her in charge of the stable moon.'
Then he said to the moon: 'O dear old moon,
Who for years and years from thy throne above
Hast nurtured and guarded young lovers and love,
My heart has but come to its waiting June,
And the promise time of the budding vine;
Oh, guard thee well this love of mine.'
And he harked him then while all was still,
And the pale moon answered and said, 'I will.'
And he sailed in his ship o'er many seas,
And he wandered wide o'er strange far strands:
in isles of the south and in Orient lands,
Where pestilence lurks in the breath of the breeze.
But his star was high, so he braved the main,
And sailed him blithely home again;
And with joy he bended his footsteps soon
To learn of his love from the matron moon.
She sat as of yore, in her olden place,
Serene as death, in her silver chair.
A white rose gleamed in her whiter hair,
And the tint of a blush was on her face.
At sight of the youth she sadly bowed
And hid her face 'neath a gracious cloud.
She faltered faint on the night's dim marge,
But 'How,' spoke the youth, 'have you kept your charge?'
The moon was sad at a trust ill-kept;
The blush went out in her blanching cheek,
And her voice was timid and low and weak,
As she made her plea and sighed and wept.
'Oh, another prayed and another plead,
And I couldn't resist,' she answering said;
'But love still grows in the hearts of men:
Go forth, dear youth, and love again.'
But he turned him away from her proffered grace.
'Thou art false, O moon, as the hearts of men,
I will not, will not love again.'
And he turned sheer 'round with a soul-sick face
To the sea, and cried: 'Sea, curse the moon,
Who makes her vows and forgets so soon.'
And the awful sea with anger stirred,
And his breast heaved hard as he lay and heard.
And ever the moon wept down in rain,
And ever her sighs rose high in wind;
But the earth and sea were deaf and blind,
And she wept and sighed her griefs in vain.
And ever at night, when the storm is fierce,
The cries of a wraith through the thunders pierce;
And the waves strain their awful hands on high
To tear the false moon from the sky.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Light Day and Night
A golden rain falls down
A golden dawn
A golden age
At last a Angel appears
She dreamt ever so sweetly
The rain comes down
Like a song
An angel plays a harp
A bird dances
And Joy is echoing
In the footsteps
And the shoes are running
As if with wings
A round the tree
Under the sun, angels dance
In circles and all night too
A large bee is sitting
As an angel blows in its ear
A purple rose appears
An angel bows, his head
Into the silence
And on his pillow
Sleeps with tears
Of love streaming down.
A dove calls and moves
Towards the Light
All angels sing
A fog comes down
An angel sings
Three angel’s wings
Spread out for flight
An eagle flies across the sky
Sharing a nest with a diamond
An angel flies by singing
So all the trees can grow
A sun is setting
Over a deep forest
All the birds and animals
Are sleeping now
A moon comes up
And some stars
And all the world
A star is singing about joy
Of the waves on the ocean
And the fish in the sea
And the dolphins jump
And a wave is running by
As a boat has many masts
Moves forwards, backwards
A song dissolves into the mists
Like a poem that soon passes
An angel is swishing
Above and below
And now a moon looks on
A rose grows
Ever so slowly
A candle burns quietly
A snail loves to walk
On the grass in the morning
And an angel flies home in the night
This is a prayer, given to the air
When the rains come down
And the tears fall, I will be
Holding you firm in my wings
I will step in the Shadows before you
The angel’s feather blows across
The wide skies, it falls at my feet
To my surprise it intrigues me
It warms me. it warns me
That love is coming
That truth is foretold
And that I am witnessed
I am a witness to love
Angel love of feathers keen.
Light feathers wanting to be
A song that comes down
Is sung, is light
A heart reaches out this day
No Night. a dream is shared
Angel’s wings, angel’s might
And a gift is brought into being
This cannot be matched
Under heaven and earth.
This truth has been granted
And a blessing to health.
Guard it, know it well
As it sings through the universe
As an angel would sing
In the morning as birds
Watch by, two feathers fall
From her graceful wings
Messages from the departed.
Various melodies are calling
Various paths back to her heart
Love’s refined and refrain.
And in that morning mist
When all around seems filled
Future dreams are lurking, waiting
For the moment when paths
Shall cross. Their Light shall shine
The water that runs smoothly
Downhill, over grass, and weeds
And flowers, all the same
As An angel carries an urn
Filled with birds, and treasures
And messages and laughter
Her heart opens up like a flower
And her feet dance as in the snow
All the ancestors stand up in smile
A Vague moon, showers its peace
And doves flies over
As an angel starts a journey
Coming home to all things
Small and great
I listened for the heart beat
Eternal, justified, complete
In the twinkling of an eye
The Journey had begun
Life was carrying me before it
In its Arms and in its way
Towards a destination pure
And sweet and at peace
Love was my joy was my family
Nature was before me
My Justice my guide
The veils of truth were parting
Layer after layer, tide after tide
In rhythms of rain and sunlight
And warmth. was born again…
poem by Char Pattrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Creators Touch
The Creators Touch
His hand is in everything
In the air we breathe with all living things
The sky's that rain down upon thee
Into the oceans deep and blue
He brush's the colours
Of Mother Natures easel of life
That paints into life
The birds the bee's
Along with the beauty
Of the flowers and tree's
He writes the songs
That the birds sing in the morn
He sways the trees
As the winds rush through thee
He's the droplet of snow
Up high on the mountain top
The raging white rapids
Down a mountains stream
The sun and moon
That shines down upon me
The Creator touch's all
He is everything
poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Abandoned
SHE sat by the wayside and wept, where roses, red roses and white,
Lay wasted and withered and sere, like her life and its ruined delight;
Like chaff blown about in the wind whirled roses, white roses and red,
And pale, on night's threshold, the moon bent over the day that was dead.
She sat by the wayside and wept; far over the desolate plain
A noise as of one that is weeping re-echoed in wind and in rain,
And the long dim line of the spectral poplars with dolorous wail
Nodded their bald-headed tops as they chattered with cold in the gale.
She sat by the wayside and wept in a passion of vain desire,
And her weak heart fluttered and failed like the flame of a faltering fire,
Fluttered and failed in her breast like the broken wing of a bird
When its feathers are dabbled with gore, and the low last gurgle is heard.
And behold, like balm on her soul, while she sat by the wayside and wept,
There came a forgetting of sorrow, a lulling of grief, and she slept;
Yea, like the wings of a dove when cooing it broods on the nest,
So the wings of slumber about her assuaged and filled her with rest.
And a light that was not the sun's nor the moon's light illumined her brain;
From afar in the country of dreams three maidens stole over the plain,
Three loveliest maidens they were, like roses, red roses and white;
And behold the earth and the heavens were glorified in their light.
And the first of the maidens was fair, as fair as the blue-kirtled Spring,
When she comes with a snowfall of blossoms and a rustling of birds on the wing,
When a glimmer of green like a tide rolls over the woodland and vales,
And odours are blown on the winds with the song of the nightingales.
The second was loftier of stature, a huntress of grief;
The wilderness glowed as she passed and broke into blossom and leaf;
Yea, it seemed that her upturned eyes, with their fathomless gaze,
Could pierce to the shining stars through the veil of the noonday blaze.
But the third was a splendour incarnate, a luminous form,
Thrilling with raptures that keep the heart of the cold earth warm,
Who hidden far in the mystical glory of quivering rays
Sets the whole world on fire for an absolute sight of her face.
But darkling ever they see her, and ever as through a veil,
For if naked she lightens upon them, their lives must shrivel and fail,
Must fail and shrivel consumed by that burst of insufferable light,
As a tree set on fire by lightning which burns to the ground in a night.
The first one kissed her cheek, her cheek grew pallid and wan:
'Goodbye,' she cried, 'we must part; I am Youth, and I follow the sun;
I am Youth, and I love to build in the heart that is buoyant and gay;
Goodbye, we shall meet not again,' she cried, as she fluttered away.
The second she kissed her eyes, then the glamour went out of their gaze,
Through the magical show she beheld life staring her straight in the face;
With a terrible Gorgon stare that turned her heart into stone--
'Adieu,' she sighed, 'I am Hope, all is over between us and done.'
The third one she kissed her lips, and the kiss was a quenchless fire,
It burned up her life like a victim's in the flames of a funeral pyre--
'Farewell,' she wailed, 'I am Love,' and her wings were spread as for flight--
It seemed like the wail of the wind as they left her alone with the night.
poem by Mathilde Blind
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Paradise: In A Symbol
Golden-winged, silver-winged,
Winged with flashing flame,
Such a flight of birds I saw,
Birds without a name:
Singing songs in their own tongue
(Song of songs) they came.
One to another calling,
Each answering each,
One to another calling
In their proper speech:
High above my head they wheeled,
Far out of reach.
On wings of flame they went and came
With a cadenced clang,
Their silver wings tinkled,
Their golden wings rang,
The wind it whistled through their wings
Where in Heaven they sang.
They flashed and they darted
Awhile before mine eyes,
Mounting, mounting, mounting still
In haste to scale the skies—
Birds without a nest on earth,
Birds of Paradise.
Where the moon riseth not,
Nor sun seeks the west,
There to sing their glory
Which they sing at rest,
There to sing their love-song
When they sing their best:
Not in any garden
That mortal foot hath trod,
Not in any flowering tree
That springs from earthly sod,
But in the garden where they dwell,
The Paradise of God.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Anniversary
The dawn shines her light
To scare off the night
And the sun from his slumber is woken
The bells are ringing out
As the town crier shouts
Words too strong to be spoken
Theres a rumble in the ground
And the air fills with sound
Trumpets in the wind are a blowing
The townsfolk peep
Through the curtains of sleep
To the sound of the cocks all a crowin
The winds may blow
Come rain, come slow
Todays for you and me
I gave my heart to you my love
You gave your heart to me
The sun wears a smile
And the clock winks its dial
The clouds in the sky are unfolding
The birds on the wing
Like angels they sing
The heavens are glowing all golden
The crowds all spill out
They cheer and they shout
Banners and flags are a waving
The flowers all a bloom
Blow kisses to the moon
As blossom falls on the paving
The wind may blow
Come rain, come snow
Todays for you and me
I gave my heart to you my love
You gave your heart to me
The whole world roars
A chorus of applause
Strangers from delhi to dublin
Are swept off their feet
As they kiss on the street
And the waters like champaigne are bubbling
The wind may blow
Come rain, come snow
Todays for you and me
I gave my heart to you my love
You gave your heart to me
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
In The Orchard
LEAVE go my hands, let me catch breath and see;
Let the dew-fall drench either side of me;
Clear apple-leaves are soft upon that moon
Seen sidelong like a blossom in the tree;
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.
The grass is thick and cool, it lets us lie.
Kissed upon either cheek and either eye,
I turn to thee as some green afternoon
Turns toward sunset, and is loth to die;
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.
Lie closer, lean your face upon my side,
Feel where the dew fell that has hardly dried,
Hear how the blood beats that went nigh to swoon;
The pleasure lives there when the sense has died;
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.
O my fair lord, I charge you leave me this:
Is it not sweeter than a foolish kiss?
Nay take it then, my flower, my first in June,
My rose, so like a tender mouth it is:
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.
Love, till dawn sunder night from day with fire,
Dividing my delight and my desire,
The crescent life and love the plenilune,
Love me though dusk begin and dark retire;
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.
Ah, my heart fails, my blood draws back; I know,
When life runs over, life is near to go;
And with the slain of love love’s ways are strewn,
And with their blood, if love will have it so;
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.
Ah, do thy will now; slay me if thou wilt;
There is no building now the walls are built,
No quarrying now the corner-stone is hewn,
No drinking now the vine’s whole blood is spilt;
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.
Nay, slay me now; nay, for I will be slain;
Pluck thy red pleasure from the teeth of pain,
Break down thy vine ere yet grape-gatherers prune,
Slay me ere day can slay desire again;
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.
Yea, with thy sweet lips, with thy sweet sword; yea,
Take life and all, for I will die, I say;
Love, I gave love, is life a better boon?
For sweet night’s sake I will not live till day;
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.
Nay, I will sleep then only; nay, but go.
Ah sweet, too sweet to me, my sweet, I know
Love, sleep, and death go to the sweet same tune;
Hold my hair fast, and kiss me through it so.
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Moon And Sun Love Story
MOON AND SUN LOVE STORY
End of the day
No other way
Lady Sun goes to hide
Mister Moon shines bright
After sun burns
Moonlight turns
Never ending ritual
Life's marital or burial
Moon wants to meet his love
Which is the ever sun above
Mister Moon drops his endless tears
As millions of glittering stars
End of the night
Dawn's beautiful sight
Moon must fade
Sun gets awake
Sun seems to sparkel with love
Like a huge golden dove
Moon’s ever dark sadness
Sun’s eternal light gladness
Never ending story
Of an impossible love
poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Why love the moon?
Why love the moon?
Because she is fair?
Because she seems so debonair?
The moon you love lives away so far,
She left you long ago for the stars;
For which in her insecurities she has prevailed,
As she hides behind her silver veil.
Why love the moon?
Because she shines?
Because you think her beauty divine?
The face she shows is but a play,
There’s another side she never displays;
A side so dark you cannot see,
It’s there she hides her agonies.
Why love the moon?
Because she is there?
Because you think you have her care?
Every month she shows her entire face,
You stare at her beauty and sit in her grace;
But as the days pass she turns to the Sun,
The person who has her eternal love.
The Sun however rejects her again,
So she turns back to you to comfort her pain;
And again you accept her, again and again,
It is your heart she holds,
it has been slain.
So why love the moon,
The Superficial moon,
The Cruel, the Uncaring and Inconsistent moon,
The moon who Scorns you!
The moon who Left you!
The moon who CHEATS WHEN SHE'S BEHIND YOU!
...because you love her.
poem by Warren Chan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Change
She leaned out into the soft June weather,
With her long loose tresses the night breeze played;
Her eyes were as blue as the bells on the heather:
Oh, what is so fair as a fair young maid!
She folded her hands, like the leaves of a lily,
'My life, ' she said, 'is a night in June,
Fair and quiet, and calm and stilly;
Bring me a change, O changeful moon!
'Who would drift on a lake forever?
Young hearts weary - it is not strange,
And sigh for the beautiful bounding river;
New moon, true moon, bring me a change! '
The rose that rivalled her maiden blushes
Dropped from her breast, at a strangers feet;
Only a glance; but the hot blood rushes
To mantle a fair face, shy and sweet.
To and fro, while the moon is waning,
They walk, and the stars shine on above;
And one is in earnest, and one is feigning -
Oh, what is so sweet as a sweet young love?
A young life crushed, and a young heart broken,
A bleak wind blows through the lovely bower,
And all that remains of the love vows spoken -
Is the trampled leaf of a faded flower.
The night is dark, for the moon is failing -
And what is so pale as a pale old moon?
Cold is the wind through the tree tops wailing -
Woe that the change should come so soon.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dews make Grass and Leaves to Weep!
Neither I am Bruce lee,
I got only bruises fully,
I am not Tiger Woods,
Just fear to Tiger and woods,
I am not the Ronaldo who score
goal after goal,
Only I suffer a lot to achieve a goal,
I am not Jordan or Jackson,
Not even can sprint or jump,
Not I am Tagore or Gibran,
Not even like kayyam or Rumi,
Not my feelings or words can
make others feel,
Not I am Alexander,
the great,
Not That Chengez or Ghazni,
Nor that Ashoka the great, Still dogs and cats,
Trees and birds,
Sun and stars,
Moon and clouds,
Rainbows and flowers
Fruit trees love
me,
As they know how innocently I
love them,
Some day raining clouds may call
me,
the light in that lightning
may take me to my beloved!
Birds may sing farewell, flowers may say good bye,
The morning on which I will not be on earth,
At least, the morning dews make
grass and leaves to shed tears for
me!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Chloe Weeping
See, whilst Thou weep'st, fair Cloe, see
The World in Sympathy with Thee.
The chearful Birds no longer sing,
Each drops his Head, and hangs his Wing.
The Clouds have bent their Bosom lower,
And shed their Sorrows in a Show'r.
The Brooks beyond their Limits flow;
And louder Murmurs speak their Woe.
The Nymphs and Swains adopt Thy Cares:
They heave Thy Sighs, and weep Thy Tears.
Fantastic Nymph! that Grief should move
Thy Heart, obdurate against Love.
Strange Tears! whose Pow'r can soften All,
But That dear Breast on which they fall.
poem by Matthew Prior
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Night And Day
I hate the moon
'Cause it covers the sun
That brightens up my day.
I hate the stars
As if they laugh at me
When I'm feeling blue.
I hate the silence in the night
'Cause this moment of time,
Seems people don't care about me.
I love the sunshine
That gives life a meaning,
A new hope and a new beginning.
I love early morn
Unleashing the sun
And wraps the stars & moon.
I love the birds at daylight
As if they sing for me
That lifts up my heart & soul.
poem by Alon Calinao Dy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Moonlight Sestina
While reading Li Po, I fall
Asleep, and dream of the moon
My body lies on white
Cool sheets, flooded in a pool
Of moonlight. Lost in a dream
I lie in light, floating.
Like a full moon floating
On waves, I feel the fall
And rise, the tide of these dream
Currents. Closer, the moon
Approaches to my pool
Of flesh, shining me white.
From the glare of waxing white,
Gauze curtains – breeze floating -
Shield this rippling pool,
Become a waterfall,
And break the mirror moon-
Light through wet prisms, I dream.
Is this Shechinah? my dream
Self asks. At once the cold white
Chills me to ice. The moon
Swells until it's a floating
City, waiting to fall -
Atlantis – in the pool.
I yearn to be that pool
Skin, transparent as dream.
Instead I fear the moon fall:
I cannot part the white
Sea of thighs, Still floating
Whole, I cry to the moon:
“I am not ready, Moon”
Silence shimmers my pool,
But brightness fades, Floating
Away. Then from the dream
I emerge, weeping white
Tears that shine like star-fall.
Li Po's moon plunge sank dream
Deep. Whirlpool of lunar white
Drowns us; floating, we fall.
poem by Lillian Susan Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!