To The Muse: An Old-Fashioned Poem3
But, oftentimes, beneath your tree,
at morning's blush or at the eve's
descent, your voice among the leaves
will flood my ears with poetry
And oftentimes will you suspend
in fingers dim a golden bowl
that holds the image of a soul
perfected at the journey's end.
Powerful Muse of living fame
who often leads us to the grove
in praise of wine, in praise of love
I bear my sorrows in your name.
Sip this blessing from my lips
Mother, dragon, husbandwife,
you, my muse, as dear as life:
for I am honored with your kiss.
And gladly bear from its imprint
a seething wound, a vivid brand
through which strange, quivering chords are sent
and secrets of the holy land!
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Sonnet: I Muse Over
At whiles (yea oftentimes) I muse over
The quality of anguish that is mine
Through Love: then pity makes my voice to pine
Saying, 'Is any else thus, anywhere?'
Love smileth me, whose strength is ill to bear;
So that of all my life is left no sigh
Except one thought; and that, because 'tis thine,
Leaves not the body but abideth there.
And then if I, whom other aid forsook,
Would aid myself, and innocent of art
Would fain have sight of thee as a last hope,
No sooner do I lift mine eyes to look
Than the blood seems as shaken from my heart,
And all my pulses beat at once and stop.
poem by Dante Alighieri
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To The Month Of May (From The Cantigas)
Welcome, O May, yet once again we greet thee!
So alway praise we her, the Holy Mother,
Who prays to God that he shall aid us ever
Against our foes, and to us ever listen.
Welcome, O May! loyally art thou welcome!
So alway praise we her, the Mother of kindness,
Mother who alway on us taketh pity,
Mother who guardeth us from woes unnumbered.
Welcome, O May! welcome, O month well favored!
So let us ever pray and offer praises
To her who ceases not for us, for sinners,
To pray to God that we from woes be guarded.
Welcome, O May! O joyous month and stainless!
So will we ever pray to her who gaineth
Grace from her Son for us, and gives each morning
Force that by us the Moors from Spain are driven.
Welcome, O May, of bread and wine the giver!
Pray then to her, for in her arms, an infant
She bore the Lord! she points us on our journey,
The journey that to her will bear us quickly!
poem by Alfonso X the Wise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet 77: Those Looks, Whose Beams Be Joy
Those looks, whose beams be joy, whose motion is delight,
That face, whose lecture shows what perfect beauty is:
That presence, which doth give dark hearts a living light:
That grace, which Venus weeps that she herself doth miss:
That hand, which without touch holds more than Atlas might:
Those lips, which make death's pay a mean price for a kiss:
That skin, skin, whose passe-praise hue scorns this poor term of white:
Those words, which do sublime the quintessence of bliss:
That voice, which makes the soul plant himself in the ears:
That conversation sweet, where such high comforts be,
As constru'd in true speech, the name of heav'n it bears,
Makes me in my best thought and quiet'st judgment see,
That in no more but these I might be fully blest:
Yet ah, my maiden Muse doth blush to tell the rest.
poem by Philip Sidney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Astrophel And Stella-First Song
Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth,
Which now my breast o'ercharged to music lendeth?
To you, to you, all song of praise is due;
Only in you my song begins and endeth.
Who hath the eyes which marry state with pleasure?
Who keeps the key of Nature's chiefest treasure?
To you, to you, all song of praise is due;
Only for you the heaven forgat all measure.
Who hath the lips where wit in fairness reigneth?
Who womankind at once both decks and staineth?
To you, to you, all song of praise is due;
Only by you Cupid his crown maintaineth.
Who hath the feet whose step all sweetness planteth?
Who else, for whom Fame worthy trumpets wanteth?
To you, to you, all song of praise is due;
Only to you her sceptre Venus granteth.
Who hath the breast whose milk doth passions nourish?
Whose grace is such that when it chides doth cherish?
To you, to you, all song of praise is due;
Only through you the tree of life doth flourish.
Who hath the hand which without stroke subdueth?
Who long-dead beauty with increase reneweth?
To you, to you, all song of praise is due;
Only at you all envy hopeless rueth.
Who hath the hair which, loosest, fastest tieth?
Who makes a man live then glad when he dieth?
To you, to you, all song of praise is due;
Only of you the flatterer never lieth.
Who hath the voice which soul from senses sunders?
Whose force but yours the bolts of beauty thunders?
To you, to you, all song of praise is due;
Only with you not miracles are wonders.
Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth,
Which now my breast o'ercharged to music lendeth?
To you, to you, all song of praise is due;
Only in you my song begins and endeth.
poem by Philip Sidney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Allurement
The amorous amours of her golden lips
Seals loves secret with a beautiful kiss
Into the lake, her soul then dips
With loves secret that our own hearts miss
A morose muse, following capricious whims
Wanders to the lake azure, searching for bliss
And in its beautiful waves his heart swims
So with his body the muse jumps in
Bliss! Bliss! Swimming in her mist
The morose muse searches beneath the lakes pretty surface
And sees an emanating jewel, a violet amethyst
With gold brewing in the center, like a ardent furnace
Echoes of love, his ears tenderly hear
Emanating from the jewel at the bottom of the lake
With a torrential gush, and no fear
The muse swims to the jewel, for its beauty to take
"Lost in thy lake, lost in blue! "
The morose muse hears the amethyst express
"Sad I am, I'll drown for you!
The morose muse utters in a profound profess
To the amethyst's heart of gold mortal distress
The morose muse looses breathe and sinks slowly
To the bottom of the lake of deep azure
Ascending to the heights of the sky holy
Falling in the traps of his beauties allure
The amorous amours of her golden lips
Breaks the stone of her love's amulet
And kisses the lips, of the drowning muse
And dies, like the heart of Romeo's Juliet!
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Papa
Papa, this is your son writing to you from a very strange land;
There is air on this land but with the floating minds that muses,
And of the power of love and the power of the muse that it brings.
I have been able to live here for many years and,
I have taken your words and i am now myself over here.
This is a very strange land with no air,
But your words had taken me in that far;
For up and close and personal is the muse that the land shares.
I am living on this strange land with my lover,
But my heart will grow on to fulfil my dreams;
Papa, it is all coming back to you now!
For your words are my weapons over here to muse up with others.
The immortality of the mortals seems far from this dream,
And i will always do my best to get you the news from here always;
But if the walls could talk, they could have told you much already.
I will give up on this dream and,
Living in this strange land will be my weapon ahead;
For, i left home to be able to satisfy you people as well.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Little Black Boy
My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but O! my soul is white
White as an angel is the English child:
But I am black as if bereav'd of light.
My mother taught me underneath a tree
And sitting down before the heat of day
She took me on her lap and kissed me,
And pointing to the east began to say:
Look on the rising sun: there God does live
And gives his light, and gives his heat away
And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive
Comfort in morning joy in the noonday.
And we are put on earth a little space
That we may learn to bear the beams of love.
And these black bodies and this sunburnt face
Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove,
For when our souls have learn'd the heat to bear
The cloud will vanish we shall hear his voice,
Saying: come out from the grove my love & care
And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice.
Thus did my mother say and kissed me.
And thus I say to little English boy.
When I from black and he from white cloud free,
And round the tent of God like lambs we joy:
I'll shade him from the heat till he can bear
To lean in joy upon our fathers knee.
And then I’ll stand and stroke his silver hair,
And be like him and he will then love me.
poem by William Blake from Songs of Innocence (1789)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
A Deaf Adder
You are controlled by bit and bridle,
And you are dark and slippery!
However, praise is comely for the upright.
Dance for joy when you have hope!
For, will surely fly away one day with,
The wings of the love.
Dove, love, above, move, clove, rove, prove, wove;
And like a deaf adder! !
But, the vernom of serpents are around us always.
Drove, hove, strove, glove, stove, grove, shove, cove;
And like the fangs of the young lion!
However, the he-goat is now from your folds.
The heat of burning thorns!
But the humble shall hear and shall have joy;
However, i am weeping for the night! !
For, the perfection of your beauty is like,
A deaf adder in your neighbourhood.
Joy in the morning is not all that i need,
Because, the mule has no understanding;
And, the hart pants after streams of water.
My soul thirsts for your love!
And my mind will not rest until i find you my love;
But, praise is comely for the upright.
One she-goat from your folds!
From the land of the living to satisfy my muse;
And like a deaf adder in your neighbourhood,
But this journey of mine starts from the hills of love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Red Rose Of Love
Red rose for my lover,
Red love from her heart;
Red rose from my lover,
Red love from my heart;
Red rose,
Red heart,
Red love,
Red flower,
To praise the muse of her heart with roses;
Love is all around you.
A rose for me,
A rose that says more than two weeks in water;
Just like the dream that brings tow together,
My heart waits for you always.
Red rose of hearts,
red rose of love,
Like the true life in paradise;
I am living with the rose and,
I have a life to share with her.
Life is like a rose from a tree,
Visiting Canada in style;
Where i have more ice to see.
Roses of red to swim my muse with,
Together with my wife to take a trip;
This red rose is more than two weeks in water!
It is still going strong,
The roses of love on this journey;
Red rose of love,
Red hearts at peace,
Red rose of a muse that muses;
I am living in paradise on my lover's rose.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Panama
I am from Panama and i am full of words,
So come and let me show you my concubines;
Then, you can explore my sweet love.
With two legs and two eyes,
With two hands and two ears,
And like the two pillars of love!
For, i am looking for a place to stay with this sweet muse.
They ate, drank and slept together! !
So, stay the night and enjoy yourself with my love;
And like 'Dr. Flash Hour' at the rush hour of the day!
But if only if i could hold your breasts and kiss you,
Then i will know your mind on this love.
If only if i could kiss your lips and love,
And like the sweet muse of love being reflected in the mirror! !
For i need ylou and i want your naked body beside me,
And like my concubines in the land of my muse.
Yes, come to Panama to enjoy my muse with the red roses of love,
For, i am loooking for a place to stay with this sweet muse of mine;
And, you are all that i need.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet: Sorrows Purify Our Soul
When sorrows visit in quick succession,
And there’s no time to reason out or cry:
When mind and soul are in eclipsed session,
From the very beginning, then tears dry.
How much of sorrows can a heart withstand?
How much of stress and strain can humans take?
The anguish seems to even flood the land,
When earthly living seems almost a fake.
But, God made man to bear any despair,
And sorrows crown our life but not for long;
Most often life appears very unfair;
But listen Man, for joyful is His song.
Yet, sorrows purify my soul, O God!
It makes me fit for Heaven’s Abode, Lord.
6-25-2001
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Yobby
If loving you was a mistake,
The i don't want to be right;
If knowing you was a mistake,
Then i don't want to be known;
For i am Yobby in the land of your muse,
And like the mango tree and the banana tree living together.
Ice age,
Your are of poetry;
Bronze age,
My area of poetry;
Stone age,
Her area of poetry;
Golden age,
His area of poetry;
And like the English Literature! !
But, i do have the English Poetry for you;
For, you are my poetry.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Muse Is Free
I swim in the glimmers on the rivers muse
There I muse of love and love muse of me
In muse is ecstasy
my muse is free.
I lay by the brook, the muse's brook
And thirsty, I get up, to get a little drink
When I look, I see, I think
A beautiful Muse and my heart is shook
I dwell in a soul, a soulful muse
And to its harmony my soul withdrew
To the trumpets of muse the song of blue
My soul a muse, I always knew
I smell the odor, of muse's incense
In its torpor my body sleeps in my soul
And I smoke the smoke of muse intense
I laugh at myself amusingly droll
With my muse's nymphs we love in Hellas
Naked and free in the republic
Of beauty and art of love's Bellas
We love to we're entirely love sick.
My muse is free from the Devil's temptation
My Muse is free from God's judgment
My Muse is my only wordly nation
My Muse is a dream, I live, I lament
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sunshine Susie
Red dot,
'E 10-Spirit and E 5-Super'!
Arm in arm with you in the land of love,
But you were born this way.
Strong and powerful!
The strength of your muse is the joy of peace;
So come and open up the doors of your love,
And like a ram's horn in the land of your muse.
Sunshine Susie!
Some people wait for a life time for a moment like this;
But this red dot is all about your muse,
For we are very compact to each other!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Psalm 63
O God you are my God
In the morning I will rise to thee
You're the one that came to earth
You're the one who came and died for me
My soul thirsts for you
And I will seek you all my days
My soul longs for you
That I may give you all my praise
In a dry and thirsty land
If I don't find you I will die
There is no water in this place
For you O Lord must rend the sky
I seek you in your hiding place
To see your power and glory
A touch from you is better than life
I want my life to be your story
With joyful lips I praise your name
Beneath your wing I do rejoice
I'll tell the whole world of your fame
And forever make a joyful noise
For I have found you O my God
I found you there before your throne
I looked and looked and there you were
And now I know I'm not alone
poem by Frank McEleny
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Praise You Always
Void,
But i will lift up myself to praise you always;
Because you first loved me,
And i sincerely thank you for everything.
Lame, fame, tame, dame, came, game, blame, name, same;
And lke Armel and Haron in the land of your muse,
But i will lift up myself to praise you always.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Knitted Well
The quality of this poem is knitted well!
Flow, low, below, blow, slow, cow, row;
Because,100 over 100 equals to 1.
The texture of this poem is knitted well!
Well, fell, bell, tell, hell, sell, cell, dell;
For we now see what is going on in Syria! !
War, tar, bar, star, car, gar, far, jar, mar, par;
With tangible images and tangible reasons,
And like a phenomenal man and a phenomenal woman!
But this war is killing many.
Clove, glove, prove, hove, strove, wove, stove;
And, what a nice poem that it is!
For, it is in it if,
It is with the muse of love!
And like the tender words of your muse,
But we now know what is going on in Syria.
100 over 100 is equal to 1!
But the poetry of life is always arouns us;
For the theme of this poem is fantastic! !
Bow, glow, how, vow, wow, grow, know;
And like the sweet muse of love.
Mow, now, sow, tow, throw, crow, show;
And like a nice image,
Shell, yell, jell, ell, quell, tell;
With its mystical muse like the melody of your music!
But the bombs are destroying everything.
Love, dove, drove, rove, shove, cove, grove;
With this superb peom to satisfy your muse,
But the poetry of life is always around us!
And we should find peace on earth always through this poetic life.
Sweet scent of freedom!
And like the modern songs in the land of your muse,
Because,100 over 100 equals to 1;
And this poem is knitted well,
But the poor moon weeps in the land of your muse because of this war!
When will these bombs stop falling on them? !
For the rich moon laughs in another land and,
The poor moon weeps in the land of Syria;
And the bombs are falling on them from every angle!
But, i do hope for peace in your land as well.
The philosopher,
Your choices,
The lessons,
Your actions,
And like my people being punished because of this war!
For, the mortal beings are now becoming immortal;
And, there are no graves to bury many of them.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Veronika
Listen to your heart beat when it comes to love and,
Take it easy when it comes to life;
For the rose of love is what you are!
Green Hills of Sussex with sex,
Exhilarating the joy of your muse;
But, my love is all that you need,
For, i am Veronika and i am closer to you than ever!
Locve your mind and praise the muse of love,
For, my beauty will bath you all over with joy! !
And like the yellow liquid in the deep blue sea.
The softness of this land is like the muse of the red spot,
But, those who are planted in my house will always stay with me;
For, my beauty will bath you all over with joy! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The 7th Edition Of My Love
This poem is about the muse of your love,
But many will still wonder why?
Because i was in the bush last night and i saw your tears.
The dog became a god and the rat became a tar!
But war was very raw on your side;
And to leap for joy was like the peal of your muse.
I saw you tears yesterday,
But you can't repel the leper and come to me;
For the heavens know who i am,
But this poem will say it all.
This poem is about the muse of your love,
But what have they done to you my love? !
For i have seen the tears in your eyes.
I have now won the race and,
I will come and save you from this cold;
So put your clothes on without any clues on my muse,
For this era of your love is like the net over ten houses!
But i need a nap for you to use the pan on my stove.
The gel is now on your left leg,
And the dam is now visited by a mad man;
But a man at war is like the sorrows of your muse.
This is the 7th Edition of my love,
But i will come and save you from the heat!
And like shiny leaves with sharp points,
But try to abide in me and live with me in my abode.
Abreast yourself to the matters of love,
And leave your door ajar and let me meet Raja my friend;
For the anagram of my life is all about you,
Because Elvis lives in the land of your muse!
Append to my works to enhance your love,
But things around you are like the era of war!
So live up to the expectations of this poem,
And i will be there to save you with my sweet love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
11.11.11
Today is the 11th of November 2011!
And, you were born at 11: 11 A.M.27 years ago! !
However, the kiss of your lips with my muse was like,
The sweet muse of love and care in the land of beauty!
For, you are all that i need.
At 11: 11 P.M. i found your nakedness to the world so sweet!
And like the words of love to satisfy my muse in the land of beautiful roses;
But, i have a lot to learn from you as well,
Because, you are 27 years old today and,
You are a virgin! !
You were born 27 years ago but,
The sweet love of your muse came and touched my heart!
And, you will always remember my kiss;
For, this love is all about you and i! !
And like words of peace in the land of unity,
For, i am always ready fro your love.
11.11.11!
And like the date reserved for many Germans to marry;
But all over the world are the works and words of love to move us on,
For, you are like the words so sweet to touch my lips!
And i will always remember you because, you were born on this day.
You came into this world 27 years ago in the land of survival! !
Naked to the world to respect your muse;
But, the joy of your birth had brought peace to your culture,
For, you have really made a mark to respect my muse.
You were born on the 11th of November 1984,
And today, you are 27 years olf to respect the muse of love;
But your first kiss came along like the works of peace,
Because, you waited for it for a very long time! !
And today, you are ready for marriage;
But, try to keep your virginity for the man of your heart.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!