Bestiary Cages
Weary was the divergence of feathers and cries
Shaking the same tree and acquainting with
Different mendacities and atrocities
A fell star stripped its ever gnashing light
To sedulously inveigle the lost and astray
A red chamber left vacant and open
Crumbled with a vile miscalculation
And the forest stared at the battling sky
Its canopies were a parasol, but the weather
Was hoarding beasts from the inside
The night of the hunter sauntered a wintry stride:
The beetle moon remained hard with iridescence
That the metallic armor beholds with imposition,
The filigree of vulturine fowls encircled the vale
Where you slept turgidly like a defenseless child,
The febrile roar that inflames the broad throat
Underneath of the mountain lion's crown dissolved,
A coyote licked the taste of patina in his wound
And cried to amnesia without remorse
The chaise of meandering paws and flapping wings
Interpolated with the blades of grass and seeing pebbles
Disturbing the quietude and rousing the savageness
That slept inside the diamond sharp penetralium
And savageness, and wretchedness, and wicked resolutions
Howl to the starlight's hapless steerage to hearken
The ever sinking whetting of blades and bloodlust
And awaken was the sleeping wrath and defiance
To perish in hungry hands, to grit and be selfish
As the night shook its giddy branches and drop
A dying leaf, a rotting fruit, a lost perchance.
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Shake Dog Shake
Ha ha ha
Wake up in the dark
The after-taste of anger in the back of my mouth
Spit it on the wall
And cough some more
And scrape my skin with razor blades
And make up in the new blood
And try to look so good
Follow me
Make up in the new blood
And follow me to where the real fun is
Ha ha ha
As stale and selfish as a sick dog
Spurning sex like an animal of god
I'll tear your red hair by the roots
And hold you blazing
Hold you cherished in the dead electric light
Your face
I'll never see you this way again
I captured it so perfectly
As if i knew you'd disappear away
Shake shake shake shake
Shake shake shake shake
Shake dog shake
Shake shake shake shake
Shake shake shake shake
Shake dog shake
You hit me again
You howl and hit me again
The same sharp pain
Wakes me in the dark
And cuts me from my throat to my pounding heart
My heart
My shaking heart
My howl my shake dog
Oh shake dog shake
Shake shake
Shake dog shake
But we slept all night in the virgin's bed
And dreamed of death
And breathed like sick dogs
We slept all night in the virgin's bed
And breathed like death
And dreamed of sick dogs
Shake shake
Shake dog shake
Wake up wake up wake up
Shake dog shake
Wake up wake up wake up
Shake dog shake
Wake up in the new blood
Make up in the new blood
Shake up in the new blood
And follow me to where the real fun is
Shake dog shake
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Bygone and Begotten
You sauntered back
into this forlorn
with tersely steps
inveigling the phantoms
that wandered the walls
of these stygian isle
And everything leads back
into the narrow sky
where your stoned fist
pierced for amends
and the silver thread
where you staggered once
profusely bled
While the inebriated moon
danced in a field of graves
its umbra zithered
the wary ocean to salute
the midnight toast you raised
beleaguering the asylum
of yesterday's
bygone and begotten,
Caught in the vortex
where you daggers
interpolated and connived
And with all these peril
chiding the shapeless air
a silent figure stood
in the threshold of the moon
and suddenly
there were no reasons -
like a sullen
mortality,
to be afraid
Sloshing through the farce
and the limbo of flustered days
my tongue pivots through
to the gelid taste of the past
whetting the hungry flame
like a saint inside a den
of savageness and ferocity -
A candle steadfast its flame
in the insulated conundrum
and with every escalation
its sublime perspiration
perished and thawed
to clog the sky
where the spigot of regret
flourishes to die
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Your Lips Taste Like
your lips taste like
my heart wrapped in brown paper,
and left out in the rain....
the cloud that drifts by taunting,
the old dog dying in the field.
the rose just before it opens,
the blood surging from the bullet wound.
the bottom of the bridge
the homeless sleep under...
a falling star, a leaf blown by the wind.
the hungry child's whimper,
the howl of the wolves.
the desire of the turtle,
a flat tire on a deserted road.
the surge of the ocean,
and the pulse of the mountain.
like a postage stamp
from a faraway shore...
like the little girl's hands
opening the door of the cage,
and the sound the feathers make,
the light glinting on her tears.
and the soft underside
of my own heart!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Women
The night was gravid with many secrets
And as the fecundated moon probed
Through the lattices of the branches
The giddy wind shook her lovely boughs
And the sinful fruits fell into the ground
Rapidly blossoming to become the garden
Of a woman's clandestine volitions
And women, I spoke of you:
Like a fell star, a woman can make you wish
Or make you hope and believe in promises
Without constitutions, with empty bliss
A woman will glamor and capture you
With her eloquent and elusive wisps
Like a defenseless bird, she would beat her wings
To scull her own wind and you will plead
To be her zephyr and in her slavery
You shall be ferried to a new firmament
Lamented by her flightless incarceration
Like the enigma of flowers, she exhibits her petals
Like bloomed parasols and her wandering pollens
Will smear your face with the taste of nectar
And saccharine pleasures eluding the sight
Of her perfidiously brambly thorns
The willowy night gave birth to women
In her wintery boudoir and multitude of palettes
And nurtured her antipathy and succinct savor
By giving men a sense of responsibility
To warden a woman's querulous misery
And in the vesper's open palms
We perched like contingent butterflies
So women, I speak to you:
Like a fell star, unfurl your scintillated feet
That made you traverse the misconstrued circles
Where I espied your graceful oscillation
Masquerading your inebriated staggering
Falling like a cold tear in an empty sky
Like a flightless peacock, boast with your plumes
And sing your fluently woven songs
But in the night, smear the rouge in abolition
And let me cater to your attrition,
Weave your nest and be your protection
Like the flowers of vicissitude, inveigle the astray
With your redolent entity and corolla of petals
Like a tiara or a filigree, and wither not
When the rain tarnished for the sunny skies
Reveal your thorns so I can succumb to your enigma.
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Inside
Inside the doors are sealed to love
Inside my heart is sleeping
Inside the fingers of my glove
Inside the bones of my right hand
Inside it's colder than the stars
Inside the dogs are weeping
Inside the circus of the wind
Inside the clocks are filled with sand
Inside she'll never hurt me
Inside the winter's creeping
Inside the compass of the night
Inside the folding of the land
Outside the stars are turning
Outside the world's still burning
Inside my head's a box of stars I never dared to open
Inside the wounded hide their scars, inside this lonesome sparrow's fall
Inside the songs of our defeat, they sing of treaties broken
Inside this army's in retreat, we hide beneath the thunder's call
Outside the rain keeps falling
Outside the drums are calling
Outside the flood won't wait
Outside they're hammering down the gate
Love is the child of an endless war
Love is an open wound still raw
Love is a shameless banner unfurled
Love's an explosion,
Love is the fire of the world
Love is a violent star
A tide of destruction
Love is an angry scar
A violation, a mutilation, capitulation, love is annihilation.
Inside the failures of the light, the night is wrapped around me
Inside my eyes deny their sight, you'd never find me in this place
Inside we're hidden from the moonlight, we shift between the shadows
Inside the compass of the night, inside the memory of your face
Outside the walls are shaking
Inside the dogs are waking
Outside the hurricane won't wait
Inside they're howling down the gate
Love is the child of an endless war
Love is an open wound still raw
Love is a shameless banner unfurled-acapo
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Brothers in a Glasshouse
The silhouettes of many yesterdays
Floundered through the silent walls
Recounting how we roam these branches
Trespassing unnumbered rooms,
Filleting riddles from the harlequin moon,
Fishing through salient oceans,
Meandering with a pensive nonchalance
Like kings in a pompous parade
Bounded by a golden chain
And shorn by vindictive asymmetries
But days fluttered without transition
We molted from the visage of our reflections
With gauche arrogance pouncing
From the tethers of this glasshouse
Sending mordant shudders on its frangibility
Whilst wrathful malcontent is forged from
The angrily hissing flames of distraught
Ricocheting like bullets mangling
Through the cavernous but elusive vault,
Your invitation still echoes through
The circles of these soliloquy
Like a labyrinthine hall ornately
Shuffled to hide the deepest room
Where the moon is such a vision
In a lake of sleeping mirrors
How did this home burned down
Tarnishing our pristine reflections?
Our star-crossed visions bloated
From breathing under water;
Your nonplussed departure
Left blithely like a climate
Invited by an aubade
But why do you have to leave
This detrimental thunderstorms
Of shattered mirrors, memoirs, behind
Prancing for the wretchedness
Of my stirred penetralium?
I lived in these desolate waltz
Like a bard without a song
Wandering for your lost suppuration
And escaping from the serrations
Lashed by your inclement after-thought
I cussed at every mock you scorn
And futilely waited for a faceless
Answer to writhe the defiance
Aggravated by these mocking mirrors
And their livid insinuations
Tinkering the garish light
That once honed your immense shadow
I stood across the line you drew -
A felled brother, a dogged contender
Frantic over these myopia
Inside the halls of eyes in plethora;
My own casted downwards, I capitulated
To the stupor of my demented legs
Shattering through the savageness
Wrought for a frenzied defense
I ran away from your pointing finger
Sloshing through the blood
Dripping from the sliver stabbed on my back
Hoping to come across that person
That I once knew and held
Eyes sleeping like a mirror
Brimming with an invitation
In this glasshouse where we used to meander
Eating fire and drinking water
Walking through the thawing ice
Placidly on our plaintive eyes
How can we not see better
Of our own reflection - bloodstained
And savage in the leathery veneer
Safeguarding the brittle bones
Gnawed to the deepest dungeon
Where the clandestine volitions ruptured
Festooned by treacherous conflagrations
I shrugged my encumbered shoulders
And lunged for the rock bottom
In the proximity of demise
And the woman that gave birth to it
I heard the bloodhounds bark
Ravaging at the strand of solace
That willowed like your final sigh
I saw them slavering, whetting fangs
Roused by a menacing hedonism
I let them trace the scent of my wretchedness
As I knelt to my last prayer
And waved too many goodbyes
To a brother incarcerated
Inside a deluded glasshouse.
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Message To My Juliet
You've shown me just how physically love can be,
and how lustfully a kiss should be.
Since then I have lost it all.
I lost my mind inside your heart,
I lost my soul inside your bed,
I lost my sanity in flames,
I lost my light,
inside the night.
I lost the hate, the anger and the pain,
and got some love, some passion and some rain.
But now that you have went astray,
I can't stand being sane again.
poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When You Resigned To Sleep
The canopies of your eyes fluttered
like curtains from your windows
as you watched the stars dripped
into a paler rhythm of fandango
with sweet waves of riddance
to the gentle mirth of your goodnight
They tarried on their way
like tears refusing to fall
but they cannot suspend the transience
riveted in your jet black eyes
and the ephemeral caprice it beholds
You watched them as they are -
inexorably felled scintillating stars
and the pain belying their crowns
charred their endeavors, marred their hopes
from your unrequited remorse
Do you repulse the black holes
that siphoned their gravity?
Do you wonder where they roam
when they wander from your galaxies?
These danseuse chandelier tinkering
their insides to inveigle a trifle
of your attention and attraction
ponder for you vaporous musing
that absently asphyxiates the air
Whilst I watched you from your window,
your bony penetralium and your
bereaved lambent smile masquerading
like the tersely open moon tonight
The maps in the palm of your hands
and your labyrinthine gaze,
I wonder if they remember,
I wonder if they feel the same
I wonder at your pensive shudders;
if you are still skeptic and afraid
or had your gargoyle flesh grew excited
for the patina of hope and verve
Perhaps you have meander too far,
in false-exactitudes of altitudes
with the strong wind under your wings,
that I needed to watch you from here
Obviously and regardless,
I still wonder and malinger
to the night when you resigned
into your forgetful sleep
My pensive friend, if you shall dream again
I shall be watching you from here
until the waters lambaste to restore
the frail bridges of our incarcerations
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lines: The cold earth slept below
The cold earth slept below;
Above the cold sky shone;
And all around,
With a chilling sound,
From caves of ice and fields of snow
The breath of night like death did flow
Beneath the sinking moon.
The wintry hedge was black;
The green grass was not seen;
The birds did rest
On the bare thorn's breast,
Whose roots, beside the pathway track,
Had bound their folds o'er many a crack
Which the frost had made between.
Thine eyes glow'd in the glare
Of the moon's dying light;
As a fen-fire's beam
On a sluggish stream
Gleams dimly--so the moon shone there,
And it yellow'd the strings of thy tangled hair,
That shook in the wind of night.
The moon made thy lips pale, belov{`e}d;
The wind made thy bosom chill;
The night did shed
On thy dear head
Its frozen dew, and thou didst lie
Where the bitter breath of the naked sky
Might visit thee at will.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Stripped Away
Fuel - Stripped Away
I must have left my soul cracked open
like a door. . .
in the night. . .
Seizing the opportunity
while i lay there sleeping
all the beggars and thieves walked in
and they stole
all i stored inside
I woke to find
a shell of a man
and all i had once believed . . .
Stripped away . . .
Stripped away
Well i sat at Satan's table
and I drank the wine
in a feast of revelry
Till my eyes were red and swollen
and my soul was so held with stains
that just won't come clean
and i tell myself
that i am in youth
What all i could achieve
Stripped away . . .
Stripped away
Well i stared at my own reflection
But i know that those eyes can't be me
My sprit floats in desperation
on dreams like I've never seen
So i reach for you
and draw you near
and pray that you won't be. . .
Stripped away
Stripped away
song performed by by Fuel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Love Inside Of You!
there lives....
flight within the feathers,
leaves, in bare limbs.
centuries inside mountains,
flow within rivers....
corn in the deadened earth.
fire within the match,
rain within the clouds.
a baby in a lover's touch....
a roar within the lion.
a world inside a turtle's shell,
a story in the old man's smile.
families in the cementary...
oppression inside of oil.
freedom, in a prison cell,
hope, in the addict's shaking hands.
healing, in the moment shared....
passion, in the naked glance.
God, in the small child's eyes,
salvation, in what is given....
the truth beneath the lie....
all waiting....
on the light inside the darkness,
and the love inside of you!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Traveller in Africa
A Dramatic Sketch
A Forest. Night.
Alone, amidst the interminable forest!—
Where shall I seek for aid! my weary limbs,
Torn by the briars, and wasted with fatigue,
Refuse to bear me further.
Horrid night!
Black, rayless, midnight reigns; and the thick dew
Distils its baleful drops upon my head.
And, hark! the topmost branches of the trees,
With dismal moan, now louder and more near,
Shake in the rushing wind! It comes, it comes!—
The dread tornado!—is there no escape!—
What howl is that, which echoes from afar?
The frightful yell comes nearer——
Mighty Heaven!
No friendly torch, no watchfire near, to keep
The savage foe at bay!—my cries alone,
My frantic cries of agony, have power
To scare the fell hyena from his prey!
The torrent sweeps along—a swelling river
Rolls, dashes at my feet! I dare not climb
Yon palm for safety, lest the huge black ants
Fix on and sting me into madness. Ha!
That crash has fell'd the loftiest of the wood,
The stately cotton-tree, that could withstand
A thousand storms;—whose high, projecting stems,
Twisting in many folds impenetrable,
Twin'd with convoluvi and parasites,
Spread their broad barrier, and forbade approach.
'Tis fallen now—its purple blossoms crush'd—
And that stupendous form, which once could yield
A fainting army shelter, is laid low.
I dare not linger—yet I fear to fly.—
I hear the human-monster's piercing howl,
The fierce Ingrena, sporting with the storm,
Like its presiding demon. He approaches—
And, as he comes, he tears the branches down,
And arms himself for slaughter. I am lost!
His wild eyes see me by the lightning's flash—
One moment, and I perish!—Oh, no! no!
That desp'rate leap has saved me, and the coil
Of the huge Boa holds my shrieking foe!
A thousand deaths surround me—and I yield.—
No more at eve, beneath the ganian's shade,
My brave companions, shall we meet, to tell
Of toils and dangers past: no more recall
The lovely verdure of our native vales,
When, listening to the crown-bird's cheerful note,
So like our own wild wand'ring bird of spring,
That fancy gives us back our homes again.
My lov'd, lost home!—and must I perish here!—
Oh! were I now amidst the burning sands,
So the bright sun once more might shine on me,
Although in all his scorching fierceness, yet
There might be hope I should escape his beams;
Or, were I on the brink of some broad river,
Where the gaunt crocodile pursued my steps,
So I had light to view mine enemy,
There might be some hope: but here no light can come!
The blast
Bears shouts upon its wings—new terrors still
Come thronging to o'erwhelm me! Gracious Heaven!
Those well-known sounds, those voices! and my name
Echoing through all the forest!—I am saved!—
Here, here, my friends! rush onward, ye are come
In time to see me die!
poem by Louisa Stuart Costello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Creation of the Moon
The man cut his throat and left his head there.
The others went to get it.
When they got there they put the head in a sack.
Farther on the head fell out onto the ground.
They put the head back in the sack.
Farther on the head fell out again.
Around the first sack they put a second one that
was thicker.
But the head fell out just the same.
It should be explained that they were taking the head
to show to the others.
They did not put the head back in the sack.
They left it in the middle of the road.
They went away.
They crossed the river.
But the head followed them.
They climbed up a tree full of fruit
to see whether it would go past.
The head stopped at the foot of the tree
and asked them for some fruit.
So the men shook the tree.
The head went to get the fruit.
Then it asked for some more.
So the men shook the tree
so that the fruit fell into the water.
The head said it couldn't get the fruit from there.
So the men threw the fruit a long way
to make the head go a long way to get it so they could go.
While the head was getting the fruit
the men got down from the tree and went on.
The head came back and looked at the tree
and didn't see anybody
so went on rolling down the road.
The men had stopped to wait
to see whether the head would follow them.
They saw the head come rolling.
They ran.
They got to their hut they told the others that the head
was rolling after them and to shut the door.
All the huts were closed tight.
When it got there the head commanded them to open the doors.
The owners would not open them because they were afraid.
So the head started to think what it would turn into.
If it turned into water they would drink it.
If it turned into earth they would walk on it.
If it turned into a house they would live in it.
If it turned into a steer they would kill it and eat it.
If it turned into a cow they would milk it.
If it turned into a bean they would cook it.
If it turned into the sun
When men were cold it would heat them.
If it turned into rain the grass would grow and the
animals would crop it.
So it thought, and it said, "I will turn into the moon."
It called, "Open the doors, I want to get my things."
They would not open them.
The head cried. It called out, "At least give me
my two balls of twine."
They threw out the two balls of twine through a hole.
It took them and threw them into the sky.
It asked them to throw it a little stick too
to roll the thread around so it could climb up.
Then it said, "I can climb, I am going to the sky."
It started to climb.
The men opened the doors right away.
The head went on climbing.
The men shouted, "You going to the sky, head?"
It didn't answer.
As soon as it got to the Sun
it turned into the Moon.
Toward evening the Moon was white, it was beautiful.
And the men were surprised
to see that the head had turned into the Moon.
Sleeping for the Flag
When our boys come home in triumph, brother,
With the laurels they shall gain;
When we go to give them welcome, brother,
We shall look for you in vain.
We shall wait for your returning, brother,
Though we know it cannot be;
For your comrades left you sleeping, brother,
Underneath a southern tree.
Sleeping to waken
In this weary world no more;
Sleeping for your true-lov'd country, brother,
Sleeping for the flag you bore.
You were the first on duty, brother,
When "to arms" your leader cried--
You have left the ranks forever, brother,
You have laid your armies aside.
From the awful scenes of battle, brother,
You were set forever free,
When your comrades left you sleeping, brother,
Underneath that southern tree.
You have cross'd the clouded river, brother,
To the mansions of the best,
"When the wicked cease from troubling," brother,
"And the weary are at rest."
Surely we would not recall you, brother,
But the tears flow fast and free,
When we think of you sleeping, brother,
Underneath a southern tree.
poem by Henry Clay Work
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Moon!
I only fly to carve a scar,
to mark your name on moon's surface,
this pain herein my heart so marred,
comes from a love I can't retrace
oh fleeting thought, your face within,
casts me in awe of foul dismay,
a lost puzzle in burgundy,
false reality in portray
the distant moon which seems to cry
in our precious 'valse de la lune',
when only for you so stain I,
the tender countenance of the moon
as these heavy wings soar sn high,
shape the moon face into yours
as sharp as blades that these wings are,
tainting the sky with my remorse
your only face I save in mind,
yet hold me in cold and decay,
you leave your trace along with stars,
behind the eclipstical play
from then on I begin to hate,
the way the moon shines more than you,
from then on I dream to impale,
the light the moon cast upon you
poem by Kite Remedy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Firefly
In the midst of a dark Jungle,
Just beneath the infinite sky,
Illuminating the bleak trees,
There lived a lonely firefly.
He flew to every corner of the woods,
None to love he could find,
Flapping his wings, with thirty eyes he searched,
Leaving an evanescent trail of light behind.
Hopeless and heartsick, he gave up,
In bittersweet melancholy he began to cry,
But suddenly in the sky shimmering with light,
he saw the prettiest firefly.
The brightest glowing light it had,
Radiant golden like a honey dipped dove,
And right that instant our little firefly,
Irrevocably fell in love.
He flew towards her, wanting to touch,
So that her beauty he could feel,
And after his endless solitude,
finding her, to him seemed unreal.
He saw her every night, at the same place.
She never seemed to get near,
She was always silent, just shone like a diamond,
On the thought of losing her, he shook with fear.
Our little firefly decided to reach her at once,
He flew, with him an aureate stream,
He flew the entire night determined to meet her,
But alas, could never fulfill this dream.
Soon the poor firefly, lost his never ending battle,
He perished unloved, his wings like a tattered kite,
But the forest continued to illumine beneath,
the glory of the eternal starlight.
poem by SaviorsLavish Human
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Hands Of Time!
the hands of a small child,
shaping sand on the beach.
the flutter of wings,
a sparrow's first flight.
seeds planted by hand
in the fresh plowed ground.
the light teasing shadows,
late afternoon to night.
the war hero's silence,
his eyes grown hard.
the family burying the child,
the mother cannot weep.
the hungry stare
of poverty's stink.
the addict's hard edge,
bare rooms, bare walls.
the hanging tree,
and the lovers oak.
the bullet in the chamber,
and the open mission.
the church locked empty,
boxes to beds in the alley.
the old man who cant forgive
what the young boy did.
the hands of a small child...
the hands of time!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rejected
Alas ! I have lost my God,
My beautiful God Apollo.
Wherever his footsteps trod
My feet were wont to follow.
But Oh ! it fell out one day
My soul was so heavy with weeping,
That I laid me down by the way ;
And he left me while I was sleeping.
And my soul awoke in the night,
And I bowed my ear for his fluting,
And I heard but the breath of the flight
Of wings and the night-birds hooting.
And night drank all her cup,
And I went to the shrine in the hollow,
And the voice of my cry went up :
' Apollo ! Apollo ! Apollo ! '
But he never came to the gate,
And the sun was hid in a mist,
And there came one walking late,
And I knew it was Christ,
He took my soul and bound it
With cords of iron wire,
Seven times round He wound it
With the cords of my desire.
The cords of my desire,
While my desire slept, ,
Were seven bands of wire
To bind my soul that wept.
And He hid my soul at last
In a place of stones and (ears,
Where the hours like days went past
And the days went by like years.
And after many days
That which had slept awoke,
And desire burnt in a blaze,
And my soul went up in the smoke.
And we crept away from the place
And would not look behind,
And the angel that hides his face
Was crouched on the neck of the wind.
And I went to the shrine in the hollow
Where the lutes and the flutes were playing,
And cried : ' I am come, Apollo,
Back to thy shrine, from my straying.'
But he would have none of my soul
That was stained with blood and with tears,
That had lain in the earth like a mole,
In the place of great stones and fears.
And now I am lost in the mist
Of the things that can never be,
For I will have none of Christ
And Apollo will none of me.
poem by Lord Alfred Douglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Last Night As I Was Sleeping
Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a spring was breaking
out in my heart.
I said: Along which secret aqueduct,
Oh water, are you coming to me,
water of a new life
that I have never drunk?
Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.
Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a fiery sun was giving
light inside my heart.
It was fiery because I felt
warmth as from a hearth,
and sun because it gave light
and brought tears to my eyes.
Last night as I slept,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that it was God I had
here inside my heart.
poem by Antonio Machado
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Collective: The Wounded Coyote
A hapless howl in the dark of the night
Rouse like the skin of coal he wore
Shadowing a fire ready to pounce and bite
The bitter pangs haunting his eerie lore
In his chest, a wound in the left, a hollow in the right;
A flagrant death shrilling from the core
I sang along your succor for aid
In kindled fire, we dab and recuperate
Dissecting to build greater barricades
And meander again this forest of ornate
Disheveled from the cold, yet unafraid
Bark and howl! Valor you shall fabricate!
Autumn passed for seasons change
And in the gilded boughs, stark winter perched
You shed into white with the mountain range
And clean you came, from stain you're purged
The pristine cloak in forlorn dark seems strange;
Through winter you held fire, whilst I stagger to lurch
A solitary game and not of hungry hunts
This coyote played and triumphantly taunts
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!