Lover's Gifts XIII: Last Night in the Garden
Last night in the garden I offered you my youth's foaming wine. You
lifted the cup to your lips, you shut your eyes and smiled while
I raised your veil, unbound your tresses, drawing down upon my
breast your face sweet with its silence, last night when the moon's
dream overflowed the world of slumber.
To-day in the dew-cooled calm of the dawn you are walking to
God's temple, bathed and robed in white, with a basketful of
flowers in your hand. I stand aside in the shade under the tree,
with my head bent, in the calm of the dawn by the lonely road to
the temple.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Related quotes
Still Smiling........
Smiled When Mother Took Me Into Her Arms For The First Time,
Smiled When Saw World Outside The Hospital For The First Time,
Smiled Whenever Went To School,
Smiled Even Being Laughed At....
And Called A Fool....
Smiled When Stood First In The Class,
Smiled When I Wasn't Misunderstood..... At Last!
Smiled When My Poem Was Said Wow!
Smiled When Realised That Only Day Is Today....
And Time Is Now......
Smiled When Got My 'True' Love,
Smiled As I Always Felt We Are Two Doves,
Smiled Even When Came To Know He's Not Mine,
Smiled Even When He Married My Friend.....
And Raised A Toast Of Wine,
Smiled Even When Lost Every Hope,
Smiled Even When Wasn't Able To Cope,
Smiled Even When Knew My End Is Near,
Smiled And Enjoyed Cutting My Nerve.......
No Fear...............
Smiled At Every Moment Of My Life,
Whenever, Wherever And Never Cried.............
But Now, I'm Lying Under A White Cover,
Father Putting Me On Fire.........
With No Blessings Left To Shower.....
People Around Have Nothing To Do With My Death
But Are Crying.........
And I'm............
Still Smiling.................................
poem by Apurva Jain
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To Peace
THE cup, the ruby cup
Whence anguish drips,
At last is lifted up
Against our lips.
Though we, till seas run dry,
Your lovers are,
How can we put it by,
Red cup of war?
We champion your task;
Your wounds we bind;
Behind the battle mask
Our eyes are kind.
Upon this foaming edge
Of blood and flame,
With shuddering lips we pledge
Your name.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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The Tryst
I raised the veil, I loosed the bands,
I took the dead thing from its place.
Like a warm stream in frozen lands
My lips went wandering on her face,
My hands burnt in her hands.
She could not stay me, being dead;
Her body here was mine to hold.
What if her lips had lost their red?
To me they always tasted cold
With the cold words she said.
Did my breath run along her hair,
And free the pulse, and fire the brain,
My wild blood wake her wild blood there?
Here eyelids lifted wide again
In a blue, sudden stare.
Beneath my fierce, profane caress
The whole white length of body moved;
The drowsy bosom seemed to press
As if against a breast beloved,
Then fail for weariness.
No, not that anguish! Christ forbid
That I should raise such dead! I rose,
Stifled the mouth with lilies, hid
Those eyes, And drew the long hair close,
And shut the coffin lid.
My cold brow on the cold wood laid,
Quiet and close to-night we lie.
No cruel words her lips have said.
I shall not take nor she deny.
The dead is with the dead.
poem by Muriel Stuart
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A Marriage Ceremony
i know even for the very first time that i have seen them.
when the groom lifted the white veil to kiss
her lips
she hesitated to close her eyes
his lips did not tremble in
excitement
at the last second when his lips touched
hers
he closed his eyes but very briefly
the touch was minimal
and then he took away love
back into his mouth
reverberating to his heart
where
indifference is beginning to
seed.
how i wish i could understand this ritual
this institution
of fusion where energy can not
and can never
be stored
potential at all.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Brea
my reflection
grabs and pulls me under
heat me what else to be
bathed in brea
guide me safely in
worlds ive never been to
shield me
heal me
my dear brea
mull around
it's alright
heal me
heal me
my dear brea
show me lonely and
show me openings to
bring me closer to you
my dear brea
mull around
it's alright
opening to
heal
opening to
heal
heal
heal
song performed by by A Perfect Circle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brea
my reflection
grabs and pulls me under
heat me what else to be
bathed in brea
guide me safely in
worlds ive never been to
shield me
heal me
my dear brea
mull around
it's alright
heal me
heal me
my dear brea
show me lonely and
show me openings to
bring me closer to you
my dear brea
mull around
it's alright
opening to
heal
opening to
heal
heal
heal
song performed by by A Perfect Circle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Painting
I'm drawing a circle,
Which is concentrically diminishing,
With each gliding of the pencil on the paper,
Until it becomes a spiral.
I'm drawing the line of your oval eyes,
Which is concentrically diminishing,
With each winking of yours,
Until it becomes only the memory of your sight.
I'm drawing the line of your elliptical lips,
This beauty of your lips,
Which is dwindling concentrically
With each whisper
Until it becomes only the memory of your word.
I'm drawing your great feeling,
As a noble heart,
Which is eccentrically enlarging,
Until I can touch you
To become one soul.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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The Touchstone
There was a garden, very strange and fair
With all the roses summer never brings.
The snowy blossom of immortal Springs
Lighted its boughs, and I, even I, was there.
There were new heavens, and the earth was new,
And still I told my heart the dream was true.
But when the sun stood still, and Time went out
Like a blown candle--when she came to me
Under the bride-veil of the blossomed tree,
Chill through the garden blew the winds of doubt,
And when, with starry eyes, and lips too near,
She leaned to me, my heart knew what to fear.
'It is no dream,' she said. 'What dream had stayed
So long? It is the blessed isle that lies
Between the tides of twin eternities.
It is our island; do not be afraid!'
Then, then at last my heart was well deceived;
I hid my eyes; I trembled and believed.
Her real presence sanctified my faith,
Her very voice my restless fears beguiled,
And it was Life that clasped me when she smiled,
But when she said 'I love you!' it was Death.
That, that at least could neither be nor seem -
Oh, then, indeed, I knew it was a dream!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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What Semiramis Said
The moon's a steaming chalice,
Of honey and venom-wine.
A little of it sipped by night
Makes the long hours divine.
But oh, my reckless lovers,
They drain the cup and wail,
Die at my feet with shaking limbs
And tender lips all pale.
Above them in the sky it bends
Empty and gray and dead.
To-morrow night 'tis full again,
Golden, and foaming red.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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So Much about You
There is so much about you,
I am not...
That I like!
Much I feel has much appeal,
The kind that invites and delights.
Someone like you,
Hasn't been in my view.
Unless my eyes were shut tight!
And I wish I offered more,
Than a boring courtesy.
I'd sweep you off the floor,
Off your feet...
And our lips would meet!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Wine (Love Poem)
Wine is for laughing
Wine is for talking all night
Wine is for living life out loud
Wine is for making us beautiful
Wine is for all-night conversations
Wine is for getting together again
Wine is for ‘never again’ tomorrow
Wine is for sleeping like a baby
Wine is for telling the truth
Wine is food for love
Wine is friendship
Wine is fresh
Wine
Can
Be
The
One
Perfe ct
Companion
At the end of a long day
poem by Ian Beckett
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The red candles are almost burn to the brim
The red candles are almost burn to the brim
and the faint golden light still flickers,
in the wind that goes through the bedroom.
Your eyes are big and golden and it’s like
I can climb down in the depts of them
and there’s a dropp of sweet glittering on your brow.
Your light skin is soft against me
and I see how your one breast still prominently pointed pink-brown
rises up and down while you breathe
The wine glasses are empty and the scent
of Berg kelder port
hangs strong in the air,
but your lips are much sweeter and more caressing
than any wine and it’s as if our passion
doesn’t want to stop tonight.
Somewhere in the garden a bird calls its mate
and I hear the church bell clanging eleven o’clock,
but the night is young and your lips tickle my ear.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Baby Blues
(bth australian version)
I wonder whats happening to me
Things are changing so dramatically
Ill search for you, youre not really there
Still I wonder knowing that you do care
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up, I shut up
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up now
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up, I shut up
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up now
I shut up now, I shut up now
I shut up now, I shut up now
He is the best thing to come my way
Perfect picture baby blues in my day
He is the best thing to come around
Sleeping in his cradle safe and sound
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up, I shut up
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up now
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up, I shut up
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up now
I shut up now, I shut up now
I shut up now, I shut up now
Baby blues, baby blues
Baby blues, baby blues
Baby baby, baby blues
Baby baby, baby blues
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
song performed by by Cranberries
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Communion
In the silence of my heart,
I will spend an hour with thee,
When my love shall rend apart
All the veil of mystery:
All that dim and misty veil
That shut in between our souls
When Death cried, 'Ho, maiden, hail!'
And your barque sped on the shoals.
On the shoals? Nay, wrongly said.
On the breeze of Death that sweeps
Far from life, thy soul has sped
Out into unsounded deeps.
I shall take an hour and come
Sailing, darling, to thy side.
Wind nor sea may keep me from
Soft communings with my bride.
I shall rest my head on thee
As I did long days of yore,
When a calm, untroubled sea
Rocked thy vessel at the shore.
I shall take thy hand in mine,
And live o'er the olden days
When thy smile to me was wine,--
Golden wine thy word of praise,
For the carols I had wrought
In my soul's simplicity;
For the petty beads of thought
Which thine eyes alone could see.
Ah, those eyes, love-blind, but keen
For my welfare and my weal!
Tho' the grave-door shut between,
Still their love-lights o'er me steal.
I can see thee thro' my tears,
As thro' rain we see the sun.
What tho' cold and cooling years
Shall their bitter courses run,--
I shall see thee still and be
Thy true lover evermore,
And thy face shall be to me
Dear and helpful as before.
Death may vaunt and Death may boast,
But we laugh his pow'r to scorn;
He is but a slave at most,--
Night that heralds coming morn.
I shall spend an hour with thee
Day by day, my little bride.
True love laughs at mystery,
Crying, 'Doors of Death, fly wide.'
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Stephanie (The Hello pt 1)
Sitting in the warmth of an autumn sun
she seemed to be in reposed thought
when I saw her lips smile….
Though memories rode the wake of passing clouds
her heart was saddened from pain remembered
and from innocence stolen….
Yet on this day,
this sunny day her lips smiled….
I thought for a moment to stop and speak
even though the eyes of strangers seldom ever meet….
But a simple hello emerged from me to her
and from her a sort shy gentle hi….
That hello and that hi
did flutter and fly
dancing rings around her heart
making her lips once again smile
and though she did I still saw the sadness in her
as her eyes seemingly cried….
No tears did I see
Just old memories peeking from her eyes
out at me….
All while in the warmth of an autumn sun
as her lips smiled
as innocence returned
and trust was reborn….
poem by G. Onimira Farley
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A Poem of Thoughts as the Evening Faded: I
Last night
Have you seen
The red roses
Dancing in riot
In your garden?
They turned redder
When the thorns
Raised a revolt
Did you know
How the garden-night
Moaned and moaned?
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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The Evening Is Upset
I lost you in this life and the next,
You went away leaving pages blank
And did not read my book or pen text
Weaving with love and pages left untouched…
The evening is upset with your departure,
And the wine glasses too are sad,
You left taking all away with yourself
Even the flowers in the garden got withered…
The night that used to be full of your love
And your unlocked tresses made it more
Erotic and lovely when I run thru my fingers
Holding you close and trying all night to love…
Written by: Narendra Rai
Talhar Badin, Sindh…
poem by Narendra Rai
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Villanelle
We said farewell, my youth and I,
When all fair dreams were gone or going,
And Love’s red lips were cold and dry.
When white blooms fell from tree-tops high—
Our Austral winter’s way of snowing—
We said farewell, my youth and I.
We did not sigh—what use to sigh
When Death passed as a mower mowing,
And Love’s red lips were cold and dry?
But hearing Life’s stream thunder by,
That sang of old through flowers flowing,
We said farewell, my youth and I.
There was no hope in the blue sky,
No music in the low winds blowing,
And Love’s red lips were cold and dry.
My hair is black as yet, then why
So sad! I know not, only knowing
We said farewell, my youth and I.
All are not buried when they die;
Dead souls there are through live eyes showing
When Love’s red lips are cold and dry.
So, seeing where the dead men lie,
Out of their hearts the grave-flowers growing,
We said farewell, my youth and I,
When Love’s red lips were cold and dry.
poem by Victor James Daley
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At Noon--And Midnight
Far in the night, and yet no rest for him! The pillow next his own
The wife's sweet face in slumber pressed--yet he awake--alone!
alone!
In vain he courted sleep;--one thought would ever in his heart
arise,--
The harsh words that at noon had brought the teardrops to her eyes.
Slowly on lifted arm he raised and listened. All was still as death;
He touched her forehead as he gazed, and listened yet, with bated
breath:
Still silently, as though he prayed, his lips moved lightly as she
slept--
For God was with him, and he laid his face with hers and wept.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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She smiled at me
At Lolly Jackson’s bar
she smiled at me
and as smiles goes,
her’s was teasing.
She smiled quite gay
and her eyes and lips
and exquisite body begged
to play.
In my inner soul
I started to pray
to keep this blonde temptation,
with her inviting boobs and hips
far away from me.
The energy of life
was bursting out,
with every step she took.
a Year later
I saw her in the street
and her thinning hair
and bony face,
reminded me of someone
from somewhere.
When she smiled
It was a ironic grin
and somehow,
I could still see
beauty in her eyes.
Her body was paper thin
and her blue eyes
were sunken in
and AIDS had taken her
to the verge of death.
poem by Gert Strydom
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