En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Making of a Prince I: I Named Her Sybella

A strident silence speared
Through a long famished alley,
A turgid hymn of air swooned
Reeking of sapid quandaries,
That was when I caught her breath
Asphyxiating from the cacophony
That her pensive hands whittled
In a callow toil to defy
The sequester of the sea and sky;
Vying to taut a prissy wry

The verve in her eyes, unseeing
The veins in her hands, clogged
The plethora of colors in her skin
Thaws in a concoction—a melancholia
She knelt in a prayer, weeping
Before adamant caryatids, fringing
Her horizon, it was hers,
I windwalked and trespassed
Her veil of secrecy, profoundly
Bore her my eyes, empathically
I desire to tell her of bliss—
How it lingers around and about
For those who desire it, but
I saw the cairn and candles
She tussled and endeavored:
A grave for all her hopes,
And for all my words, hushed
I picked her up like a blossom
Drifted from her garden and
I knew I know not to speak
To tell her that I know her
For her eyes was a sleeping mirror
And it shines and lust and sheen

I knew her, I knew her
And I named her after her:
"Sybella, The Lady of Secrets"
One of my elusive triumphs
For I have conquered
A vacuous space
Of a gilded heart.

poem by Norman Santos
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Woes Versus Rues IV

Our veiled words
And adamant liaison
"Where are they? "
I asked myself, I ask you
Knowing full that I have changed
Under a stronger harlequinade
I no longer recognize the mirrors
Or the aborted reticence
Even in your generosity
I guess we've lost the man,
Who named you once
"Sybella, the lady of secrets."

poem by Norman Santos
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The Making of a Prince III: A Star Knew My Name

In the taut sky for circumnavigation
Distracted by a harlequin moon
Her abode was ensconced and shivers
By the thorny lights it produce
A yellow coruscation,
A livid fornication
Of rapture and desolation

The nights owns her
And her lubricious light
But she didn't know how
To emancipate herself
From the strangulations
Of her tethering flaws
If only she knew, if only she knew
How bright she was
Because of her struggles

I spoke to her like a dozing child
When I left the King
As he built his grand kingdom,
When Sybella was assailed far
Aided by my winnows,
I spoke to her and heed
A chance for myself
Even though I knew that
She has her stellar deaths
Regardless, I spoke to her
With all my burdens
And her light didn't err
Never falter, never quake,
She was a strident fire
When she is given a place

Her stardust fell without riddance
With a prolix simplicity in her radiance
And she spoke to me, she spoke to me
Of my name:
A little prince
With a leonine heart
"Steadfast" she say
"For we understand"
And I caught her
Believing in her words
Shining past
The dark foliage of clouds

A stellar knew my name
And I have expanded my dominion
Into the delusive night sky.

poem by Norman Santos
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A Child in the Garden

When to the garden of untroubled thought
I came of late, and saw the open door,
And wished again to enter, and explore
The sweet, wild ways with stainless bloom inwrought,
And bowers of innocence with beauty fraught,
It seemed some purer voice must speak before
I dared to tread that garden loved of yore,
That Eden lost unknown and found unsought.

Then just within the gate I saw a child, --
A stranger-child, yet to my heart most dear;
He held his hands to me, and softly smiled
With eyes that knew no shade of sin or fear:
"Come in," he said, "and play awhile with me;"
"I am the little child you used to be."

poem by Henry Van Dyke
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Luv Eyes

This friend of mine, he looks real good
He drives a fast car and lives in Hollywood
He treats me like his little sis'
I gotta let him know I want more than this
His girlfriend Jane is a prissy brat
I dont know what he sees in that
He thinks she's cool in her short tight dress
You take away the glamour and she's just a mess
Luv eyes
Speak to me as more than just a friendv Luv eyes
Will this dream ever end
I got L-U-V eyes looking at you
I got a B-I-G heart made for two
You could feel the same if you only knew
I got L-U-V eyes looking at you
Gonna close my eyes and take a deep breath
I wanna be strong but I'm scared to death
Gonna put your arms around my waist
And tell you that I love you right to your face
Luv eyes
Speak to me as more than just a friend
Luv eyes
Will this dream ever end
I got L-U-V eyes looking at you
I got a B-I-G heart made for two
You could feel the same if you only knew
I got L-U-V eyes looking at you
This friend of mine, he looks real good
Guess who made it to Hollywood
No more Jane I got her beat
Now I'm sitting pretty in the front seat
Luv eyes
Look at me and let the feeling out
Heaven
The two of us in love
I got L-U-V eyes looking at you
I got a B-I-G heart made for two
You could feel the same if you only knew
I got L-U-V eyes
I got L-U-V eyes looking at you
I got a B-I-G heart made for two
You could feel the same if you only knew
I got L-U-V eyes
I got L-U-V eyes

song performed by by Shania Twain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There was a Child Once

There was a child once.
He came to play in my garden;
He was quite pale and silent.
Only when he smiled I knew everything about him,
I knew what he had in his pockets,
And I knew the feel of his hands in my hands
And the most intimate tones of his voice.
I led him down each secret path,
Showing him the hiding-place of all my treasures.
I let him play with them, every one,
I put my singing thoughts in a little silver cage
And gave them to him to keep...
It was very dark in the garden
But never dark enough for us. On tiptoe we walked
among the deepest shades;
We bathed in the shadow pools beneath the trees,
Pretending we were under the sea.
Once--near the boundary of the garden--
We heard steps passing along the World-road;
O how frightened we were!
I whispered: "Have you ever walked along that road?"
He nodded, and we shook the tears from our eyes....

There was a child once.
He came--quite alone--to play in my garden;
He was pale and silent.
When we met we kissed each other,
But when he went away, we did not even wave

poem by Katherine Mansfield
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The Cloth Doll and the Weeping Wallow(recitation to sorrow)

She straddled over the lake
as she approached the only existing living hell
as she approached the lonely
she opened her violet eyes
eyes made of three buttons of a dress
lace dress
beauty
half-burnt dress
I can inhale the smell
of seared fabric
and my soul with sorrowful compassion can follow
the threadbare fringes as they creep painfully and woefully
across her skin
and across the ground
where she leaned
but refused to kiss

I can inhale the sadness
emitting through her skin
I can repel the darkness
but she said it is the only way
she needs, to see
the only way she needs
to breathe

"I can see. And I can breathe. Through darkness.
As they are blind. And breathless. Before the light."

Enigmatic contraction of her muscles
around her smile
around her cloth lips
when they slowly open
to utter a cry

and I can look inside her third eye
where I can lay and cry
inside her white third eye
that remains closed
closely-guarded eye
embraced and warm
by a secret lullaby
by a frozen sorriness
by a woebegone loneliness
it is not her
but she has to live
in her third non-violet eye

Within her beauty and her pride
the cloth doll prepares to die
behind a weird smile
die
she prepares to die
among the lonely

She twiddled once before the sadly plaintive weeping wallow
with her girlish legs
like sticks
she twiddled
once
twice
in front of the weeping tree
"dance with me"
and she touched her dress like a noble lady
with hands soft and skinny, inconsolable and gently graceful
considerate and lonely
hands
gentle and frozen

And the weeping wallow leaned
and gratefully murmured a trite elegy
yet moving like death
yet motionless like death
like death

She stands still
and as she stands still
among the lonely
ice cubes fall off the waving tree
"I am not alone"
said the sallow
"stay with me
or I shall never be."

And the cloth doll caressed the rugose trunk of her desperate friend
and crooned those words
sweetly and carefully
cordially and heartlessly
words that brought the morn
wreathed in the veil of the deathly dusk
"we shall accept solitude
we shall accept death"
and carefully again,
she grinned
and whispered to her desperate enemy
"my dear lonely sallow
as you mournfully dance to the echo of the wind
as you painfully straggle though your waving against the sun
your mind shall not be shallow
but let your heart lay dead as it should be"

And the cloth doll leaned upon the lake
and repeated her purified sin
and as she waved back to the crying tree
to the sniveler
she knew her mind should never again be awake
she shall let it sleep
her mind should sleep
so sleep cloth doll
lean upon your lament
and sleep

Melancholia
and grief
but lean upon your melancholia
and just fall asleep…

poem by Katerina Val
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The Woman and the Wife

I--THE EXPLANATION

"You thought we knew," she said, "but we were wrong.
This we can say, the rest we do not say;
Nor do I let you throw yourself away
Because you love me. Let us both be strong,
And we shall find in sorrow, before long,
Only the price Love ruled that we should pay:
The dark is the end of every day,
And silence is the end of every song.

"You ask me for one more proof that I speak right,
But I can answer only what I know;
You look for just one lie to make black white,
But I can tell you only what is true--
God never made me for the wife of you.
This we can say,--believe me! . . . Tell me so!"

II--THE ANNIVERSARY

"Give me the truth, whatever it may be.
You thought we knew, but now tell me what you miss:
You are the one to tell me what it is--
You are a man, and you have married me.
What is it worth to-night that you can see
More marriage in the dream of one dead kiss
Than in a thousand years of life like this?
Passion has turned the lock. Pride keeps the key.

"Whatever I have said or left unsaid,
Whatever I have done or left undone,--
Tell me. Tell me the truth . . . Are you afraid?
Do you think that Love was ever fed with lies
But hunger lived thereafter in his eyes?
Do you ask me to take moonlight for the sun?"

poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Fade Into You

I want to hold the hand inside you
I want to take a breath thats true
I look to you and I see nothing
I look to you to see the truth
You live your life
You go in shadows
Youll come apart and youll go black
Some kind of night into your darkness
Colors your eyes with whats not there.
Fade into you
Strange you never knew
Fade into you
I think its strange you never knew
A strangers light comes on slowly
A strangers heart without a home
You put your hands into your head
And then smiles cover your heart
Fade into you
Strange you never knew
Fade into you
I think its strange you never knew
Fade into you
Strange you never knew
Fade into you
I think its strange you never knew
I think its strange you never knew

song performed by by Faithless
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Gardener XXVI: What Comes From Your Willing Hands

"What comes from your willing
hands I take. I beg for nothing
more."
"Yes, yes, I know you, modest
mendicant, you ask for all that one
has."
"If there be a stray flower for me
I will wear it in my heart."
"But if there be thorns?"
"I will endure them."
"Yes, yes, I know you, modest
mendicant, you ask for all that one
has."
"If but once you should raise your
loving eyes to my face it would make
my life sweet beyond death."
"But if there be only cruel
glances?"
"I will keep them piercing my
heart."
"Yes, yes, I know you, modest
mendicant, you ask for all that one
has."

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Snow White Transparent

“Mirror… Mirror…”

Snow White stops
Looks down at
Her hand
Perfectly pale
Unblemished
Young and
Innocent
But damned
So damned
The wicked
Woman knew
Smiled and knew

“This is what you want”

Hands her the
Apple, poisoned
And red
No one knew
That Snow White
Knew, knew
The Truth
No one
Suspects her
Not Snow White
Pure, perfect
Snow White

“Mirror… Mirror…”

A brush bristles
Through her hair
Snow White looks
At her reflection
In the Mirror
Her mirror
The Wicked
Woman’s mirror
Snow White’s
Image smiles
Sadly at her
No hope left

“On the wall…”

He comes in
Princely in
His ways
Snow White does
Not look at
Him, not at him
Oh no
She cannot
She resents him
It is not apples
That are poisoned
But lips

“Snow…? ”

Without words
She undresses
Revealing glorious
Pale body
His to touch
Snow White
Watches his hands
Lower and closes
Her eyes
This is not love
Love is not—
Love is

“Seven little men…”

She falls into the
Dark corners of
Her mind
Where poison
Still chokes her
And there is
Nothing but
Death and silence
Oh, for the silence
Snow White turns
To look at The Mirror
And asks:

“Who is fairest of them all? ”

poem by Elizabeth Rebel
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Gacela of Unforseen Love

No one understood the perfume
of the dark magnolia of your womb.
Nobody knew that you tormented
a hummingbird of love between your teeth.

A thousand Persian little horses fell asleep
in the plaza with moon of your forehead,
while through four nights I embraced
your waist, enemy of the snow.

Between plaster and jasmins, your glance
was a pale branch of seeds.
I sought in my heart to give you
the ivory letters that say "siempre",

"siempre", "siempre" : garden of my agony,
your body elusive always,
that blood of your veins in my mouth,
your mouth already lightless for my death.

poem by Federico García Lorca
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The Subalterns

I

"Poor wanderer," said the leaden sky,
"I fain would lighten thee,
But there are laws in force on high
Which say it must not be."

II

--"I would not freeze thee, shorn one," cried
The North, "knew I but how
To warm my breath, to slack my stride;
But I am ruled as thou."

III

--"To-morrow I attack thee, wight,"
Said Sickness. "Yet I swear
I bear thy little ark no spite,
But am bid enter there."

IV

--"Come hither, Son," I heard Death say;
"I did not will a grave
Should end thy pilgrimage to-day,
But I, too, am a slave!"

V

We smiled upon each other then,
And life to me had less
Of that fell look it wore ere when
They owned their passiveness.

poem by Thomas Hardy
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Flora of the Eden: Antwerp

Eyes that sought my eyes, an-hungered, as a fire;
Hands that sought and caught my hands in their desire;
Hands and eyes that clipt and lipt me as a hungering fire!

But I turned away from your ecstatic eyes,
But my heart was silent to your eager sighs,
But I turned to other eyes from your imploring eyes.

Hands that I rejected, you were fain to give;
Eyes that for their moment loved me, as I live;
Mouth that kissed me: Flora of the Eden, O forgive!

poem by Arthur Symons
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Anna Comnena

In the prologue to her Alexiad,
Anna Comnena laments her widowhood.

Her soul is dizzy. "And with rivers
of tears," she tells us "I wet
my eyes... Alas for the waves" in her life,
"alas for the revolts." Pain burns her
"to the the bones and the marrow and the cleaving of the soul."

But it seems the truth is, that this ambitious woman
knew only one great sorrow;
she only had one deep longing
(though she does not admit it) this haughty Greek woman,
that she was never able, despite all her dexterity,
to acquire the Kingship; but it was taken
almost out of her hands by the insolent John.

poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Snowfall

"She can't be unhappy," you said,
"The smiles are like stars in her eyes,
And her laugh is thistledown
Around her low replies."
"Is she unhappy?" you said --
But who has ever known
Another's heartbreak --
All he can know is his own;
And she seems hushed to me,
As hushed as though
Her heart were a hunter's fire
Smothered in snow.

poem by Sara Teasdale
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Realization

I smiled with skeptic mocking where they told me you were dead,
You of the airy laughter and lightly twinkling feet;
"They tell a dream that haunted a chill gray dawn," I said,
"Death could not touch or claim a thing so vivid and so sweet!"

I looked upon you coffined amid your virgin flowers,
But even that white silence could bring me no belief:
"She lies in maiden sleep," I said. "and in the youngling hours
Her sealed dark eyes will open to scorn our foolish grief."

But when I went at moonrise to our ancient trysting place. . . . .
And, oh, the wind was keening in the fir-boughs overhead! . . . .
And you came never to me with your little gypsy face,
Your lips and hands of welcome, I knew that you were dead!

poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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As a World Would Have It

ALCESTIS

Shall I never make him look at me again?
I look at him, I look my life at him,
I tell him all I know the way to tell,
But there he stays the same.

Shall I never make him speak one word to me?
Shall I never make him say enough to show
My heart if he be glad? Be glad? … ah! God,
Why did they bring me back?

I wonder, if I go to him again,
If I take him by those two cold hands again,
Shall I get one look of him at last, or feel
One sign—or anything?

Or will he still sit there in the same way,
Without an answer for me from his lips,
Or from his eyes,—or even with a touch
Of his hand on my hand?…

“Will you look down this once—look down at me?
Speak once—and if you never speak again,
Tell me enough—tell me enough to make
Me know that you are glad!

“You are my King, and once my King would speak:
You were Admetus once, you loved me once:
Life was a dream of heaven for us once—
And has the dream gone by?

“Do I cling to shadows when I call you Life?
Do you love me still, or are the shadows all?
Or is it I that love you in the grave,
And you that mourn for me?

“If it be that, then do not mourn for me;
Be glad that I have loved you, and be King.
But if it be not that—if it be true …
Tell me if it be true!”

Then with a choking answer the King spoke;
But never touched his hand on hers, or fixed
His eyes on hers, or on the face of her:
“Yes, it is true,” he said.

“You are alive, and you are with me now;
And you are reaching up to me that I—
That I may take you—I that am a King—
I that was once a man."

So then she knew. She might have known before;
Truly, she thought, she must have known it long
Before: she must have known it when she came
From that great sleep of hers.

She knew the truth, but not yet all of it:
He loved her, but he would not let his eyes
Prove that he loved her; and he would not hold
His wife there in his arms.

So, like a slave, she waited at his knees,
And waited. She was not unhappy now.
She quivered, but she knew that he would speak
Again—and he did speak.

And while she felt the tremor of his words,
He told her all there was for him to tell;
And then he turned his face to meet her face,
That she might look at him.

She looked; and all her trust was in that look,
And all her faith was in it, and her love;
And when his answer to that look came back,
It flashed back through his tears.

So then she put her arms around his neck,
And kissed him on his forehead and his lips;
And there she clung, fast in his arms again,
Triumphant, with closed eyes.

At last, half whispering, she spoke once more:
“Why was it that you suffered for so long?
Why could you not believe me—trust in me?
Was I so strange as that?

“We suffer when we do not understand;
And you have suffered—you that love me now—
Because you are a man.… There is one thing
No man can understand.

“I would have given everything?—gone down
To Tartarus—to silence? Was it that?
I would have died? I would have let you live?—
And was it very strange?”

poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Middle-Age Enthusiasms

To M. H.

WE passed where flag and flower
Signalled a jocund throng;
We said: "Go to, the hour
Is apt!"--and joined the song;
And, kindling, laughed at life and care,
Although we knew no laugh lay there.

We walked where shy birds stood
Watching us, wonder-dumb;
Their friendship met our mood;
We cried: "We'll often come:
We'll come morn, noon, eve, everywhen!"
--We doubted we should come again.

We joyed to see strange sheens
Leap from quaint leaves in shade;
A secret light of greens
They'd for their pleasure made.
We said: "We'll set such sorts as these!"
--We knew with night the wish would cease.

"So sweet the place," we said,
"Its tacit tales so dear,
Our thoughts, when breath has sped,
Will meet and mingle here!"...
"Words!" mused we. "Passed the mortal door,
Our thoughts will reach this nook no more."

poem by Thomas Hardy
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No Lilies For Lisette

Said the Door: "She came in
With no shadow of sin;
Turned the key in the lock,
Slipped out of her frock,
The robe she liked best
When for supper she dressed.
Then a letter she tore . . .
What a wan look she wore!"
Said the Door.

Said the Chair: "She sat down
With a pitiful frown,
And then (oh, it's queer)
Just one lonely tear
Rolled down her pale cheek.
How I hoped she would speak
As she let down her hair,"
Said the Chair.

Said the Glass: "Then she gazed
Into me like one dazed;
As with delicate grace
She made up her face,
Her cheeks and her lips
With rose finger-tips,
So lovely - alas!
Then she turned on the gas."
Said the Glass.

Said the Bed: "Down she lay
In a weariful way,
Like an innocent child,
To her fate reconciled;
Hands clasped to her breast,
In prayer or in rest:
'Dear Mother,' she said,
Then pillowed her head,"
Said the Bed.

Said the Room: "Then the gleam
Of the moon like a dream,
Soft silvered my space,
And it fell on her face
That was never so sweet
As her heart ceased to beat . . .
Then the moon fled and gloom
Fell like funeral plume,"
Said the Room.

"Just a whore,"
Said the Door;
"Yet so fair,"
Said the Chair;
"Frail, alas!"
Said the Glass;
"Now she's dead,"
Said the Bed;
"Sorry doom,"
Said the Room. . . .

Then they all,
Floor and wall,
Quiet grew,
Ceiling too;
Like a tomb
Was the room;
With hushed breath
Hailing Death:
Soul's release,
Silence, Peace.

poem by Robert William Service
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Murderers

He was my best and oldest friend.
I'd known him all my life.
And yet I'm sure towards the end
He knew I loved his wife,
And wonder, wonder if it's why
He came so dreadfully to die.

He drove his car at racing speed
And crashed into a tree.
How could he have so little heed?
A skillful driver he.
I think he must have found that day
Some love-letters that went astray.

I looked into the woman's eyes
And there I saw she knew.
There was no shadow of surmise, -
For her himself he slew:
That he might leave her free to wed
The "me" she worshipped in his stead.

She whispered as she bade me go:
"I think he found us out."
And in her face the hate and woe
Was his revenge, no doubt.
Life cannot link us . . . though glad-green
His grave - he stands between.

poem by Robert William Service
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