A South American Ode
In all my Enna's beauties blest,
Amidst profusion still I pine;
For though she gives me up her breast,
Its panting tenant is not mine.
poem by by unknown author, translated by Oliver Goldsmith
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Enna
City where the hills recede
land at the horizons' end
what saint or poet did you breed
oh Enna.
Lo, the smiling vales descend
from the bird-enamored walls
that band so many graces in
oh Enna.
Fair and faintly green your hills
fall away, behind them rise
others fairer, fainter still
oh Enna.
O'er the chime-enchanted stair
a doughty brace of butterflies
agitates the drowsy air
oh Enna.
On your steepy mountainsides
light her foot and dry her tear
the new Persephone arrives
oh Enna.
And when the golden sun goes down
from hill to vale to hill ring round
the bells that call your faithful home
oh Enna? .
Then the clouds fill up the vales
and cool the throat and moisten well
the sere recesses of the soul
oh Enna.
City where the hills recede
land at the horizons' end
what saint or poet did you breed
oh Enna?
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Sonnet XVI: In Nature Apt
In nature apt to like when I did see
Beauties, which were of many carats fine,
My boiling sprites did thither soon incline,
And, Love, I thought that I was full of thee:
But finding not those restless flames in me,
Which others said did make their souls to pine,
I thought those babes of some pin's hurt did whine,
By my love judging what love's pain might be.
But while I thus with this young lion played,
Mine eyes (shall I say curst or blest?) beheld
Stella; now she is nam'd, need more be said?
In her sight I a lesson new have spell'd,
I now hav learn'd Love right, and learn'd even so,
As who by being poisoned doth poison know.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Christel
My senses ofttimes are oppress'd,
Oft stagnant is my blood;
But when by Christel's sight I'm blest,
I feel my strength renew'd.
I see her here, I see her there,
And really cannot tell
The manner how, the when, the where,
The why I love her well.
If with the merest glance I view
Her black and roguish eyes,
And gaze on her black eyebrows too,
My spirit upward flies.
Has any one a mouth so sweet,
Such love-round cheeks as she?
Ah, when the eye her beauties meet,
It ne'er content can be.
And when in airy German dance
I clasp her form divine,
So quick we whirl, so quick advance,
What rapture then like mine!
And when she's giddy, and feels warm,
I cradle her, poor thing,
Upon my breast, and in mine arm,--
I'm then a very king!
And when she looks with love on me,
Forgetting all but this,
When press'd against my bosom, she
Exchanges kiss for kiss,
All through my marrow runs a thrill,
Runs e'en my foot along!
I feel so well, I feel so ill,
I feel so weak, so strong!
Would that such moments ne'er would end!
The day ne'er long I find;
Could I the night too with her spend,
E'en that I should not mind.
If she were in mine arms but held,
To quench love's thirst I'd try;
And could my torments not be quell'd,
Upon her breast would die.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Proserpina
LUNGI è la luce che in sù questo muro
Rifrange appena, un breve istante scorta
Del rio palazzo alla soprana porta.
Lungi quei fiori d'Enna, O lido oscuro,
Dal frutto tuo fatal che omai m'è duro.
Lungi quel cielo dal tartareo manto
Che quì mi cuopre: e lungì ahi lungi ahi quanto
Le notti che saran dai dì che furo.
Lungi da me mi sento; e ognor sognando
Cerco e ricerco, e resto ascoltatrice;
E qualche cuore a qualche anima dice,
(Di cui mi giunge il suon da quando in quando.
Continuamente insieme sospirando,)—
“Oimè per te, Proserpina infelice!”
AFAR away the light that brings cold cheer
Unto this wall,—one instant and no more
Admitted at my distant palace-door.
Afar the flowers of Enna from this drear
Dire fruit, which, tasted once, must thrall me here.
Afar those skies from this Tartarean grey
That chills me: and afar, how far away,
The nights that shall be from the days that were.
Afar from mine own self I seem, and wing
Strange ways in thought, and listen for a sign:
And still some heart unto some soul doth pine,
(Whose sounds mine inner sense is fain to bring,
Continually together murmuring,)—
“Woe's me for thee, unhappy Proserpine!”
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Sonnet – Amidst
Amidst pitch -black darkness, God shows a light;
Amidst a Forest thick, He shows a way;
Amidst black clouds, He brings a moonlit night;
Amidst sorrows, God gives a happy day.
Amidst the desert, Oasis God shows;
Amidst the stormy Sea, He brings calm;
Amidst much strife, He opens newer doors;
Amidst much hopelessness, a helping palm.
Amidst tempest, God shows a bright light-house;
Amidst the glaciers, much sought-after peak;
Amidst our solitude, He gives a spouse;
Amidst the ravines deep, the lost lamb meek.
Amidst the chaos, God ushers new hope,
Amidst the gloom, He gives the church a Pope.
poem by John Celes
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The Childless Woman
O Mother of that heap of clay, so passive on your breast,
Now do you stare at death, woman, who yesterday were blest?
Now do you long to fare afar, and guide him on the way
Where he must wander all alone, his little feet astray?
But I now, but I now—
Sons of me seven and seven
The high God seals upon the brow,
And summons from his heaven.
Blest as a bride were you, woman, that time of years agone,
When love, giver of life, came close and led you to his throne.
And blest were you—have you forgot?—when through the moons of pain
The life love-given tugged at your heart and bound you with its chain.
But I now, but I now—
Seared by the high God's scorn—
Lives that will never come to birth
Body of me has borne.
And when the hour was come, woman, your dark and perilous hour,
When the twin spirits, Death and Life, clutched you with jealous power,
Rent by their war you lay half lost, until a baby's cry
Summoned you forth past world on world to sit with God on high.
But I now, but I now—
Never my baby's voice
Has called me forth from vales of woe
With seraphs to rejoice.
You in your arms have clasped him, woman, and fed him at your breast.
You sang him little songs at night, and lulled him to his rest.
The ages gone were yours then, and yours the years to be.
You gave him of your hope and saw the light no eye shall see.
But I now, but I now—
Sons of me born in dream
Cry out for robes of flesh; I see
Their wistful eyes agleam.
O mother of that heap of clay so passive on your breast—
Now do you stare at death, woman?—nay, peace, for you are blest.
Blest are you in your joy, woman, blest are you in your pain—
Once more he calls you past the worlds to sit. with God again.
But I now, but I now—
Sons of me nine and nine,
That looked on life and death with me,
Are neither God’s nor mine.
poem by Harriet Monroe
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Of unknown beauties
Known beauties enthrall, no doubt.
Unknown beauties can still more.
Beauties accessible are cheap.
Beauties beyond access are high.
29.01.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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There's a Spot in the Mountains
There's a spot in the mountains, where the dew,
dear,
Is laden with the odors of the pine,
Where the heavens seem unbounded, and their
blue, dear,
Is deepest where it mirrored seems to shine.
There, at morn and eve, with rapture old and new,
dear,
The thrushes sing their double song divine,
And the melody their voices breathe, of you, dear,
Speaks ever to this happy heart of mine.
There's a cabin in the mountains, where the fare,
dear,
Is frugal as the cheer of Arden blest;
But contentment sweet and fellowship are there,
dear,
And Love, that makes the feast he honors—
best!
There's a lake upon the mountains, where our boat,
dear,
Moves gayly up the stream or down the tide,
Where, amidst the scented lily-buds afloat, dear,
We dream the dream of Eden as we glide!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Whether it was the tenant who seduced the landlord's wife, or the landlord who seduced the tenant's wife, it is the tenant who would leave the house.
The Northern Spring
WHEN the soft breath of Spring goes forth
Far o'er the mountains of the North,
How soon those wastes of dazzling snow
With life, and bloom, and beauty glow.
Then bursts the verdure of the plains,
Then break the streams from icy chains;
And the glad rein-deer seeks no more
Amidst deep snows his mossy store.
Then the dark pine-wood's boughs are seen
Arrayed in tints of living green;
And roses, in their brightest dyes,
By Lapland's founts and streams arise.
Thus, in a moment, from the gloom
And the cold fetters of the tomb,
Thus shall the blest Redeemer's voice
Call forth his servants to rejoice.
For He, whose word is truth, hath said,
His power to life shall wake the dead,
And summon those he loves, on high,
To 'put on immortality!'
Then, all its transient sufferings o'er,
On wings of light, the soul shall soar,
Exulting, to that blest abode,
Where tears of sorrow never flowed.
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Benediction
Blest in death and life beyond man's guessing
Little children live and die, possest
Still of grace that keeps them past expressing
Blest.
Each least chirp that rings from every nest,
Each least touch of flower-soft fingers pressing
Aught that yearns and trembles to be prest,
Each least glance, gives gifts of grace, redressing
Grief's worst wrongs: each mother's nurturing breast
Feeds a flower of bliss, beyond all blessing
Blest.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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A Parody Of Donec Gratus Eram In A dialogue Between M--- & His Wife
He. When first my Biddy love profest
My rapture ran so high
Not Gentle S---s fondly prest
To beautious G---s panting breast
Was half so blest as I
She. When first my bard you taught my name
To sound in Song divine
Not S---s exalted fame
Tho S---s a P--- aim
I wishd instead of mine
He. But now the Muse thy late delight
You See thy rival prove
For night & day & day & night
To write & read & read & write
Is all ye life I love
She Forlorn yet senceless of ye pain
I to the Mirrour fly
Survey my self am Justly vain
And but I know my self again
For that dear face coud dy
He. But shoud thy Bard no longer pore
Wilt thou forsake thy glass
If I admire my works no more
Wilt thou to court thy shade give o're
And all be as it was
She Since none but we our rivals are
And none the lovers too
Be fond or void of am'rous care
I fond or vain of being fair
Yet both are ever true.
poem by Thomas Parnell
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Opera or Ballet
Oh joyous delight - finally reached the end of
my lovely Agreement, it should be an opera
sung to the music of Carmina Burana - if a
ballet, danced to the courtiers’ march in
Romeo and Juliet, the climax amazing
The tenant should fund the bill for drafting and
signing the serious contract, the self-satisfied
landlord can inspect and evict as he likes, the
effacing tenant had better beware - I see two
men in Victorian clothing - fencing
About the nefarious terms, no favours shall
nullify the terms by which the landlord can
pocket the deposit, any wrong step made
by the tenant shall render beneficial
occupation impossible - Should the
tenant improve the premises, no advantage
shall accrue to him, should the place burn
down - it will be seen as a scheme and he
shall be held responsible, the end to be
perfect - The angry tenant
shall kill the overbearing landlord with one
blow, then enjoy exercising his right to
beneficial occupation indefinitely - at
least, in the opera or ballet
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Sonnet: A Prayer to God
Amidst all chaos Lord, bring order God;
Amidst the darkness Lord, show me Thine light;
Amidst the atheism, give me Thine word;
Amidst my weakness show, Thine divine might.
Amidst life’s sultriness Lord, give me breeze;
Amidst the mire Lord, could Thou me pull?
Amidst life’s stresses Lord, give me mind’s peace;
Amidst the storms of life, give me a lull.
Amidst my despair Lord, give me new hope;
Amidst my temptations, God, let me win;
Amidst life’s hilly tracts, show me a slope;
Amidst my struggles Lord, let me not sin.
Amidst my foes and woes, show me haven;
Amidst my worldliness, give me Heaven.
7-27-2002 by Dr John Celes
Dedicated to all my siblings, who shared my
Joys and woes, in life on earth
poem by John Celes
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Love Sonnet XXVI
O my Beloved, when to-day you said:
“All this must perish and we two will go
Soulless and senseless, to the dust below!”
I could but smile and fondle your dear head.
I could but catch your fingers as they fled
Over my throbbing breasts and whisper low,
“Whence came this breast to lure your fingers’ flow?
These burning pulses, leaping passion-fed?”
Dearest, you had no answer. But your blood
Drawing from mine the primal fires of God,
Leapt, laughed, and shouted, panting into mine—
“Love…love is all; and sweeps in mighty flood
Minds, souls and bodies, from the nameless sod
Exultant to the feet of the Divine.”
poem by Zora Bernice May Cross
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My Idea Of A Good Day
There will be no sleep
The pains of hunger
The searing burn of thirst
Discomfort
But not discontentment
A feeling of loneliness amongst the overwhelming presence
A feeling of depression amidst the joy
A feeling of chaos amidst the peace
A feeling of confusion amidst the wisdom
A feeling of dejection amidst the love
There will be success
The delights of a feast
The coolness of an iced drink
Contentment
Complacency
A feeling of completion amidst inner brokenness
A feeling of happiness amidst inner death
A feeling of peacefulness amidst inner turmoil
A feeling of wisdom amidst inner misunderstanding
A feeling of camaraderie amidst an inner and overwhelming loneliness
Here's a hint, my idea of a good day isn't based on feelings.
poem by David Knox
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Which?
A LAND AMIDST SEAS!
A PEOPLE AMIDST ANIMALS!
A GENERATION AMIDST FEDERATIONS!
A MAN AMIDST WOMEN!
A CHIEF AMIDST SERVANTS!
WHICH BEST DESCRIBES I?
I AM OVERLORD IHCAKEYNO!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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Pride Of Africa
I can hear and see clear
I can see the signs of cascading black waterfalls
Drizzling our soil with dazzling beauties
Charming sight to behold like a bouncing breast
Beauty in black
Beauty so unique
And beauty second to none
I can hear and see clear
A beauty best known to the diamond merchants
Not to the lay man who easily pick on street
I can hear and see clear
A sound of beating black drums
And a singing of a dulcet black voice
Coming from gently all the sides
Like cold gentle breezes blowing
from atlantic ocean
So cool and gentle
A black beauty carefully composed in black
Sparking lightenings across the globe
Just a bright-black skin and a green soil
As agents of beauties that brighten the world
It is nature's gifts that can't be changed
Beauties of intelligents
Beauties of creativities
And beauties of cultures
That is black in beauty
A beauty beaming even in the dark
For all to see and to believe
For all to taste and appreciate
That is black beauty
The prides of Africa....
¤NTA! !
(30/july/2012)
11: 41 - 11: 58
poem by Naseeru Taneemu Annuree
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The Choice
Were there a choice
Between you and my family
Mine will be ‘you’.
Were there a choice
Between you and my wealth
Mine will be ‘you’.
Were there a choice
Between you and beauties
Mine will be ‘you’.
Were there a choice
Between you and kingdom
Mine will be ‘you’.
That much you are dearer.
Could you be kinder?
Could you be a crusader?
Me, you arrested, shackled,
Captivated and at the end
Imprisoned for life.
Undo your sins
Before I sink
13.06.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Beautiful Breast
Dainty, delicate and delicious doth meet
On thine breast tender, mild and sweet
Beauty in thy heart veiled by a beauteous breast
Seizes mine sight and mine heart arrest
Thou art a manifestation of tranquil beauty
Nurturing life, possessing love's duty
Enticingly sweet thy gravitate to me
With all love's passion glistening on the breast of thee
Thou kiss mine lips with thine tender breast
And I doth taste thy flesh while thine heart caress
Mine heart too, wert love in us doth meet
On thine tender, mild breast, lovely and sweet
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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