The Poet's Songs.
The copse-wood merely sows
Itself, not planted;
And so it is with those
Strange and enchanted
Moods that have taken root,
Bloomed, and e'en borne fruit,
Or e'er the poet knew't,
Beauty-haunted.
The little songs that fly,
When the lips parted
Let dreams of ear and eye
Forth, so warm-hearted:
Be it a joy or pain,
Each to chaunt is fain
What in the parent brain
Soothed or smarted.
This is the poet's dower,
None, none completer;
As if 'twere Love's own flower,
Than all flowers sweeter,
Which, as the seer saith,
Still breathes a faery breath
Where Beauty smiles, though Death
May come to meet her.
poem by Robert Crawford
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The Flower.
I.
The flower in its own scent breathes till it dies
As if the scent its very birth-breath were
(As love is life's) which, while it occupies
Like a mesmeric light the living air,
Feeds every portion of the tender hue
In which it manifests so subtly fair
The faery form, which as in a dream grew
Out of the dark earth with ethereal power
Quickening its limbs, as those of a babe who
Draws from its mother's life a vital dower
Of warmth and beauty, thrilling breast and brain
Till it too comes to birth — a perfect flower
With its own aura, like a subtle strain
Which must vibrate to every joy and pain.
II.
The seeing eye and hearing ear are fed
With nature's nurture, and the mind imbues
Earth and all things within it, even the dead,
With its own sap that with thought's mystic hues
Bourgeons in every waking hour, and e'en
When sleep does all the inner life transfuse
With its own radiance, and the unseen
Becomes a part of us too, as we were
Back in some other sphere where we had been
Before the new thought breathed in the old air,
And the new body budded into birth,
Making us all that we are now who bear
The signs in us of all the woe and mirth
That came and has gone on with man on earth.
III.
Far back in the unstoried past, whose rune
No sage has ciphered and no bard has sung,
In the beginning of the sun and moon
When e'en the oldest hill was very young —
Ah! then perchance the seed that was us first
Took root in th' mystic soil whence we have (Unclear
Under the very hand of God, and burst
Into the secret being it has had,
All through the enchanted aeons strangely nursed
From death to life between the good and bad;
E'en as it were a spirit-germ that grew
By some mysterious process, and was clad
E'en like the flowers with varying form and hue,
Till it ends in what all may end in too!
poem by Robert Crawford
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Death by Beauty
Beauty is the source of all things in day,
but then Death comes to take our sight away.
Beauty is the sower of love and peace,
then Death comes a knocking so it can reap.
Beauty 's in the eye of the beholder,
but Death comes when all that mess is over.
Most think that all hope has run astray,
when death makes true beauty fade away;
but I am here to tell you the truth,
that beauty will always be in you.
Beauty is such a magical thing;
It happens when the soul laughs and sings.
Death is such a horrible sight.
Death makes moods colder than dry ice.
The world can always devour
a beautiful flawless flower.
so, The price you pay for beauty's sin
is the kiss of Death upon your chin.
poem by Wesley Garrett
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Google = A Good Poem = 147, Ooo, Ooo
A good poem paints a picture
For both your heart and brain.
It doesn't need a second chance
To make its meaning plain.
A good poem is like the flower
The lily or the rose.
God plants it in a poet's brain
And there its beauty grows.
A good poem like a cardinal
Is pregnant with song
You can't help but hear its message
As it sings what's right or wrong.
A good poem helps us remember
What the joys of life are for
It makes us want to love someone
Till death comes knocking at our door.
POETRY
God has always had his poets
Who He watches with love from space.
But Satan has his poets too
Who try to lead us from our grace.
King Solomon was a poet
Who spoke of love, life, death and war.
That lips were like threads of scarlet
And that breasts were roses and more.
The wild birds sing and flowers bloom
As clouds form figures in the sky.
But only humans will write poems
That shall last long after they die.
The eldest sister of all arts
Which some have called the Devils wine.
Poetry is but pure passion
To stimulate the heart and mind.
BY GOD'S POET = tom zart!
My Idea of beauty
Beauty is the sensation of your heart skipping a beat,
when eyes full of mischief glance at you...
Beauty is the smile which appears on your lips, when you think of the way he smiles at you...
Beauty is in the heart which touches another
Beauty is tender hands holding each other
Beauty is strong arms holding you warm
Beauty is in water, beauty is in weather,
beauty is in air, beauty is in life
Beauty is in love, beauty is in wind...
Beauty surrounds you days and nights
yet no one knows beauty's heights...
poem by Nitya Pillai
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World of beauty
Before I meet you I believe that there’s a limit for the beauty
But when I see you I know that I was wrong
Because your beauty don’t have a limit your undescribable beauty
When I see you I see the real beauty a sea of beauty
So I try to write about it to descript it and I do write and write and write
And I look to your eyes and start remember what I write about this beauty
So I find out that all what I write don’t equal a dot in your beauty sea
And I ask the poet’s to help in describe this beauty and the all try but we all know that what we write and what the poet’s will write is just a dot
A dot in your beauty sea…
By Walid T Salame
poem by Walid Salame
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Silvery Beauty Vavroovahana Patra
Innocent silvery beauty passes on the way;
Poet beholds the beauty of Beauty with gay.
The creation of Nature is alluring;
Innocent Beauty is dazzling.
Beautiful face allures passes by;
Allures lovers with gay.
Beauty is the creation of Almighty;
Beholding, poet derives gaiety.
Beauty tranquilises poet's mind on the way;
Poet derives profound peace with gay.
Curly crisp wavy long cloudy hairs entice the poet;
Mind remains in the world of peace with delight.
Innocent beautiful face allures the poet in evening;
Poet's mind is delighting.
With a little conversation mind is peaceful;
Her sweet talk is delightful.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Innocent Beauty Vavroovahana Patra
Innocent beauty lives below the mountain;
Enjoys the beauty of the fountain.
Magnifies the beauty of Nature;
With sweet conversation contents poet’s desire.
Innocent Beauty is a beautiful flower;
In the lap of Nature is a lovely creature.
Her innocence provides inspiration;
She is a cosy rosy Beauty in the lap of Creation.
A little sweet conversation delights the poet day and night;
He is inspired to depict verses with delight.
Derives peace and pleasure;
Derives peace from the lap of Nature.
Beauty passes on the path delightfully;
Poet depicts poems gaily.
Enchants enjoying the Beauty;
She is a Brook of Gaiety.
Vernal Sun beam provides gay;
Beauteous looks the vernal day.
People enchant delightfully;
Poet surrenders on Mother’s feet gaily.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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When You Were Flower, I Became A Singing Bird!
I and you were in love for ever,
When you born here as flower,
I developed wings to fly around
you,
when you had that wonderful
petals, I too had colourful wings,
When you are fragrant,
I never developed fragrance,
Because I thought you may get
enchanted,
Or may faint and fall,
May fall quickly and
if you fall
then it is my own death
How can I live here without you!
I was not a poet, had no poesy,
Love made me to sing,
Singing bird I became,
Not because I had song,
Not because I had magical or mystic thoughts,
Not because of idioms and phrases,
Not that hold on figure of speech,
Only my heart wanted to sing,
My own lyrics and words, my own tune!
Enchanted by beauty of the stars shining on your face,
And the enchanting smiling lips
The kiss of that lips,
sure to take me to heaven, nay beyond heaven and to that plane,
Where hell can't reach,
Nor even heaven can match!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Fragrant Flower Vavroovahana patra
Virgins love flowers;
Garlands of flowers adorn with pleasure.
Garlands of flowers on curly crisp wavy long hair allure lover;
Lover enjoys peerless beauty with pleasure.
Wife looks beautiful adorned with garlands of flower;
Entices husband with profound pleasure.
Women adorned with garlands of jasmines cure men gaily;
Beholding the beauty men derive peace gleefully.
Flower is a gift of Almighty;
Beholding the beauty all enchant with gaiety.
Flowers in dense green forests are most beautiful;
Poet enjoys the beauty, mind is delightful.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Beauty Vavroovahana Patra
Beauty stands on the way;
Beautiful face attracts, pervades gay.
Busy poet waits a while for enjoyment;
Beauty’s smile mirrors in mind with merriment.
Behaviour of Beauty is a gift of Almighty;
Beauty’s silvery face attracts lovers with gaiety.
Beloved Beauty is a Heaven’s Fairy;
Beautiful appearance makes the Earth flowery.
Beauty is a Heavenly Deity;
Blossoms love bloom on her face with gaiety.
Body of Beauty is an uncommon attraction;
The bride on the altar allures the lover with affection.
Blooming Beauty smiles delightfully;
Buttery fall enthuses gaily.
Busy poet enchants enjoying the beauty enthusiastically;
Breeze of spring kisses the Bride cordially.
Bright sub beam kisses Beauty delightfully;
Brilliant lover enjoys the art of Nature gaily.
Beauty passes on the way politely;
Beauty’s face reminisces in poet’s mind pleasantly.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Woman And God
You are in the up
You are in the down
You are from south
You are from north
You are from west
You are from east
You are from every where.
I love your all sides
Beauty of your front
Beauty of your back
Beauty of your hips
Beauty of your lips
The heaven God created
Between your thighs
You are the miracle of God
You are the mystic of God
I love you
Because I love God
28/11/09
poem by Devil Poet
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Before a Poetry Reading
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I'm feeling nervous but I mustn't show it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I hope to heaven that I won't blow it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I mustn't reveal that I'm a second-rate poet!
I'm only a rhymer, but they don't know it!
If you've got no talent you'll have to grow it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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This Poet Is Always Beside You
You are reading my poem but,
This poet is never known;
However, this poet is always beside you.
I am on your lips and,
I am in your mouth;
I am in your heart and,
I am in your mind;
Because, this poet is always beisde you.
This poet writes and others read,
This poet speaks and others listen,
And this poet is always beside you;
But, this poet is never known.
The works of this poet are on the internet,
And, they are being read by many! !
But, this poet is never known;
However, this poet is always beside you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Silvery Beauty Vavroovahana Patra
Innocent silvery Beauty allures the poet;
Poet waits a while for a little delight.
Admires the art of creations;
Pervading the mystery of Beauty she frees tension.
Silvery Beauty allures delightfully;
Poet drinks the nectar of Beauty gaily.
The vehicle waits a while on the path;
Poet enchants with mirth.
Beauty is a gift of Almighty;
Lover enjoys with Delight.
Beauty enchants mind, heart miraculously;
Lover functions duty delightfully.
Poet heart reminisces Beauty’s face with gaiety;
He derives peace and delight;
All beautiful things are attracting;
In the lap of Nature are delighting.
Beauty appears with peace and pleasure;
Contents lover’s desire.
Beauty is a Deity;
Lover prays with gaiety.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Beauty O beauty I am in love with you
Beauty O beauty I am in love with you
When you are found in the common face
My heart can barely wait to take your place
I see your look in the common race
For there you have placed
In a love that bares no disgrace
Cupid is blind this is true
So do not blame him when he strike you
And a man you find not fair
For half of beauty is within
This you can not see till you woo
And his inner beauty will overthrow
All of your misconceived notions
About what beauty mends
Beauty my man beauty
The common face capture me
The common love I can not see
But this love of the common he
Is what most that moves me
I have no shame to call upon the name
Of gay love tied with a ring
For love of beauty is beyond the dictate of the state
For they are only man made rules
And has not the true power to school
Common beauty can be seen on any street
And the bars where you go to meet
The common men is yout yo greet
Some say that beauty be not common
But they are but fools to think this so
For well does the true poet knows
That beauty is white as the snow
Beauty is black as the night
Beauty is yellow as the sun flower’s petal
Beauty is bronze as the metal
Beauty is red as the blossom of the crape myrtle
Beauty, O beauty its true that you do
To who you care to do
For all the races are filled with you
Beauty by like a tender touch
That in the night will come to irrupt
Beauty be soft, beauty be roughs
To pull back the skin of the silk
And expose the kernels of our love
Beauty o, beauty
Found in women and in men
We know that each of the same sex can comprehend
That a man can find beauty in a man.
poem by David E. Patton
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Flower Vavroovahana Pa
Flower blossoms naturally;
Beautifies nature silently.
Pervades fragrance in air;
Allures bees with pleasure.
Dazzles with sun beam;
Bees collect honey forms flowers’ stream.
Does not hesitate to flow honey;
Has made the Nature flowery.
She smiles in the lap of Nature;
Enchants the minds of poets with pleasure.
Poet’s derive inspiration;
Enjoy the beauty of creation.
A tiny flower is endowed with beauty;
Allures lovers with gaiety.
Beautiful flower tranquilises mind daily;
Deities enjoy the beauty gaily.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Innocent Face Vavroovahana Patra
The innocent face allures the poet in the morn;
The Beauty magnifies the beauty of the dawn.
Mind derives peace;
Poet lives with Divine Bliss.
Poet is a lover of Beauty;
Beautiful things enchant the poet with gaiety.
Loves Silvery face delightfully;
Loves innocent hearts silently.
Vernal chilly Breeze kisses the crisp hair delightfully;
Fragrance of Beauty bathes poet's body with gaiety.
Poet is inspired to remain in a world of peace;
Praying in the lap of Nature derives Divine Bliss.
Innocent rural Beauty proceeds silently;
Poet, a lover of Beauty, beholds enthusiastically.
Innocence provides delight;
Inspiration is a Brook of Delight.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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God's Poets A Good Poem & Love
GOD'S POETS
The prize jewels of any nation
Are the philosophers of the heart.
How they think is universal
For it's God who makes them so smart.
Most poets tell the truth of life
Though they may wrap it in beauty.
It's their passion, not their purpose
To compose is but their duty.
Poets have no reason to lie
When the truth is always so clear.
All that others say and do
Is but food for the poet's ear.
One merit of a poet's work
Which most cannot deny.
They say more and in fewer words
To illuminate you and I.
God sent His poets down to earth
With words of wisdom and of worth.
That they might touch the souls of men
And bring them back to Him again.
A GOOD POEM
A good poem paints a picture
For both your heart and brain.
It doesn't need a second chance
To make its meaning plain.
A good poem is like the flower
The lily or the rose.
God plants it in a poet's brain
And there its beauty grows.
A good poem like a cardinal
Is pregnant with song
You can't help but hear its message
As it sings what's right or wrong.
A good poem helps us remember
What the joys of life are for
It makes us want to love someone
Till death comes knocking at our door.
The Poet I Am', And 'The Poet I Am Not
The poet I am, and the poet I am not
‘The poet I am’ says
To ‘the poet I am not’,
‘Why can’t I be more like you? ’
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Because you are not good enough’
And ‘the poet I am’ begins to cry,
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Real poets cry for more meaningful things’
And ‘the poet I am’ says ‘I am who I am and what I will be means so much to me. But still I am not the poet I wanted to be’.
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Exactly. Were you less concerned with who you are and more concerned with others you might be a bit more of a poet than you are now.’
And ‘the poet I am’ is silent.
And ‘the poet I am not’is somewhere else being someone else
That ‘the poet I am and the poet I am not’ cannot see or dream.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Yes, My God Is Everywhere
My Lord is everywhere
every petal of flower has been touched by his hand
every blow of wind has been softened by his heartbeats
every my tear has been moistened by his drops
every my heartbeat has been pleasured by his love
The beauty of flowers the kiss of God's lips
the beauty of grass the touch of God's hands
the beauty of sea the rain of God's tears
the beauty of mountain the power of God'mystery
Every my suffer has been cuddled by his blood
every my pain has been taken by his veins
every my cold night has been drowned into his warmth
every my lost has been straightened by his paths
The beauty of sunrise the purity of God's light
the beauty of sunset the red of God's blood
the beauty of hope the green of God's buds
the beauty of trust the God's belief in me
Yes, my God is everyhwere
poem by Ata Augustyn
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