To Number 27X
Beloved Peeler! friend and guide
And guard of many a midnight reeler,
None worthier, though the world is wide,
Beloved Peeler.
Thou from before the swift four-wheeler
Didst pluck me, and didst thrust aside
A strongly built provision-dealer
Who menaced me with blows, and cried
'Come on! Come on!' O Paian, Healer,
Then but for thee I must have died,
Beloved Peeler!
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Related quotes
Hey There Beloved
Hey there beloved why are you walking away from me?
Hey there beloved don't you know all those gifts are from me?
Hey there beloved I carried you through your storms
Hey there beloved come back to me
Hey there beloved don't you know I'm waiting with open arms
Hey there beloved I wish you were not blind but could turn back and see
Hey there beloved don't you notice my art?
Hey there beloved my love for you is in every night sky
Hey there beloved look for my love in the sunset
Hey there beloved, the sun is for you
Hey there beloved the coolness of clouds is for your enjoyment
Hey there beloved I love you
Hey there beloved You can walk away
Hey there beloved it makes me cry when you chase other lovers, but
Hey there beloved I'll let you go because I want you to choose me
Hey there beloved I want you to learn to love me
Hey there beloved don't go to them
Hey there beloved they cannot fill you up
Hey there beloved, I'll never give up on you
Hey there beloved I'm full of tears
Hey there beloved I made you for so much more
Hey there beloved you don't have to dress like that
Hey there beloved they don't really love you
Hey there beloved you're more than just a body
Hey there beloved you don't have to try to be something you're not
Hey there beloved I still love you
Hey there beloved you don't have to earn my love
Hey there beloved those things won't satisfy you
Hey there beloved heed my voice that path will destroy you
Hey there beloved you're broken, but
Hey there beloved my heart breaks for you
Hey there beloved can't you see the brokenness?
Hey there beloved why do you ignore me
Hey there beloved.... I love you with all that I am
Hey there beloved, that's everything there is
Hey there beloved I love you with my entire being
Hey there beloved that's grander than the universe itself
Hey there beloved you've strayed so far away
Hey there beloved I'll always call you back
Hey there beloved I'll always be waiting
Hey there beloved I still love y-
Hey there beloved h--
Hey there be-----
Hey--------
H--------
______ ______________
poem by David Knox
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Treasure of Kings.
He was no great one in aristology
until she showed him the ropes
and helped him learn the basics
of cooking a meal
and preparation of vegetables
and how to set a table
and he remembers the time
she bought him a potato peeler
and how excited he became
owning his very own peeler
with the wooden handle
and that ease of taking the skin
off the potatoes
and her daughter laughing
at how excited he became
at such a simple thing
and she saying to her daughter
simple things can sometimes
bring more joy than the gold treasures
of kings and lovelier still
the echo of her words
to him than birds that sing.
poem by Terry Collett
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Selene
My beloved, is it nothing
Though we meet not, neither can,
That I see thee, and thou me,
That we see, and see we see,
When I see I also feel thee;
Is it nothing, my beloved!
Thy luminous clear beauty
Brightens on me in my night,
I withdraw into my darkness
To allure thee into light.
About me and upon me I feel them pass and stay,
About me, deep into me, every lucid tender ray.
And thou, thou also feelest
When thou stealest
Shamefaced and half afraid
To the chamber of thy shade,
Thou in thy turn,
Thou too feelest
Something follow, something yearn,
A full orb blaze and burn.
My full orb upon thine,
As thine erst, gently smiling,
Softly wooing, sweetly wiling,
Gleamed on mine;
So mine on thine in turn
When thou feelest blaze and burn,
Is it nothing, my beloved?
My beloved, is it nothing
When I see thee and thou me,
When we each other see,
Is it nothing, my beloved?
Closer, closer come unto me.
Shall I see thee and no more?
I can see thee, is that all?
Let me also,
Let me feel thee,
Closer, closer, my beloved,
Come unto me, come to me, come
O cruel, cruel lot, still thou rollest, stayest not,
Lookest onward, look’st before,
Yet I follow, evermore.
Oh, cold and cruel fate, thou rollest on thy way,
Scarcely lookest, will not stay,
From thine alien way.
The inevitable motion
Bears me forth upon the line
Whose course I cannot see.
I must move as it conveys me
Evermore. It so must be.
O cold one, and I round thee
Revolve, round only thee,
Straining ever to be nearer
While thou evadest still;
Repellest still, O cold one,
Nay, but closer, closer, closer,
My beloved, come, come, come!
The inevitable motion
Carries both upon its line,
Also you as well as me.
What is best, and what is strongest,
We obey. It so must be.
Cruel, cruel, didst thou only
Feel as I feel evermore,
A force, though in, not of me,
Drawing inward, in, in, in.
Yea, thou shalt though, ere all endeth,
Thou shalt feel me closer, closer,
My beloved, close, close to thee,
Come to thee, come, come, come!
The inevitable motion
Bears us both upon its line
Together, you as me,
Together and asunder,
Evermore. It so must be.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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In the Spirit of Rumi
I said to My Beloved
I love You
May I know You?
My Beloved said
I am unknown
I said to My Beloved
Still, I love You
May I see You?
My Beloved said
I am formless
I said to My Beloved
Still, I love You
Might I lose You?
My Beloved said
I am eternal
I said to My Beloved
Still, I love You
Might You leave me?
My Beloved said
I am always present
I said to My Beloved
I love You
My Beloved said
I am love itself
I said, O My Beloved
poem by Michael Shepherd
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I Chant Your Name Oh Beloved
Chant Your Name
I chant Your name O Beloved
Like the raindrops on a roof
I chant Your name O Beloved
Like the breeze in the leaves
I chant Your name o beloved
Like the snowflakes on mountain peaks
I chant Your name O Beloved
Like the dew drops in the field
I chant your name O beloved
As Your blood pulsate in my veins
I chant Your name O beloved
As the bees buzz around my head
In silence I chant Your name O Beloved
As they carry my whispered prayers
poem by Persian Khushi
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In My Solitary Hours in My Dear Husband his Absence
O Lord, Thou hear'st my daily moan
And see'st my dropping tears.
My troubles all are Thee before,
My longings and my fears.
Thou hitherto hast been my God;
Thy help my soul hath found.
Though loss and sickness me assailed,
Through Thee I've kept my ground.
And Thy abode Thou'st made with me;
With Thee my soul can talk;
In secret places Thee I find
Where I do kneel or walk.
Though husband dear be from me gone,
Whom I do love so well,
I have a more beloved one
Whose comforts far excel.
O stay my heart on Thee. my God,
Uphold my fainting soul.
And when I know not what to do,
I'll on Thy mercies roll.
My weakness. Thou dost know full well
Of body and of mind;
I in this world no comfort have,
But what from Thee I find.
Though children Thou has given me,
And friends I have also,
Yet if I see Thee not through them
They are no joy, but woe.
O shine upon me, blessed Lord,
Ev'n for my Saviour's sake;
In Thee alone is more than all,
And there content I'll take.
O hear me, Lord, in this request
As Thou before hast done,
Bring back my husband, I beseech,
As Thou didst once my son.
So shall I celebrate Thy praise
Ev'n while my days shall last
And talk to my beloved one
Of all Thy goodness past.
So both of us Thy kindness, Lord,
With praises shall recount
And serve Thee better than before
Whose blessings thus surmount.
But give me, Lord, a better heart,
Then better shall I be,
To pay the vows which I do owe
Forever unto Thee.
Unless Thou help, what can I do
But still my frailty show?
If Thou assist me, Lord,
I shall Return Thee what I owe.
poem by Anne Bradstreet
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Beloved
On my knees i chant your name oh beloved
like the raindrops on the roof
i chant your name oh beloved
like the rusttling leave in the breeze
i chant your name oh beloved
like the dew drops in te field
i chant your name oh beloved
like the snow on mountain peaks
i chant your name oh beloved
as i breath
i chant your name oh beloved
as i whisper in sincere pray...
poem by Persian Khushi
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Sonnet: God Ne’er Forsakes Me
How many times have I ignored warnings?
How many times have I tried not to heed?
How many times have I sinned by mornings?
And yet, Thou didst forgive my acts indeed.
How many times have I walked in sin’s paths?
How many times have I reveled in sin?
How many times have I taken sin-baths?
And yet, Thou didst help me o’er Tempter win.
How many times have I failed my duties?
How many times have I Thee disobeyed?
How many times have I lost my mind’s peace?
And yet, Thou didst come promptly to my aid.
How many times have I forgotten Thee?
And yet, Thou didst not once ev’r forsake me.
7-23-2001
poem by John Celes
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Where Perfumed Rivers Flow
Where perfumed rivers flow,
Is the home of my beloved.
Where passing breezes halt,
Is the home of my beloved.
Where dawn arrives on bare toes,
Where night paints henna-beams on feet,
Where fragrance bathes in moonlight,
Is the home of my beloved.
Where rays of light roam nakedly,
In green forests of sandalwood.
Where the flame seeks the lamp,
Is the home of my beloved.
Where sunsets sleep on wide waters,
And the deer leap.
Where tears fall for no reason,
Is the home of my beloved.
Where the farmer sleeps hungry,
Even though the wheat is the color of my beloved,
Where the wealthy ones lie in hiding,
Is the home of my beloved.
Where perfumed rivers flow,
Is the home of my beloved.
Where passing breezes halt,
Is the home of my beloved.
poem by Shiv Kumar Batalvi
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Play For Me My Beloved Guitar
Play for me my beloved guitar
A Love Song for my Dearest whose heart is filled with hurt;
With your strings of gold
Pluck out all her troubles from old
Play for me my beloved guitar
A Ballad for my Son whose life is full of uncertainties;
With your tunes so mellow
To a straight path let him follow
Play for me my beloved guitar
A Lullaby for my Daughter whose life is full of struggles;
With your sound so sweet
Into life's hurdles let her succeed
Play for me my beloved guitar
A Sonnet for my Brothers whose lives seem to be so hard;
With your timbre so soft
Into difficulties let them keep up
Play for me my beloved guitar
A Gospel for the World full of hatred and war;
With your resonance so pleasant
Chaos and crimes be gone
Play for me my beloved guitar
An Ode for My Soul full of burdens of the above;
With your lovely tunes and my dexterous fingers
Healing, inspiring, uplifting, motivating and peaceful songs, we will play together.
10/16/10(17: 27) -GYO Iraq
In the spirit of Rumi - 7
‘My Beloved,
what can I give you of myself,
that I have not given? ’
My Beloved said
‘O my dearest one,
in all places, at all times,
remember Me.’
‘O My Beloved,
how can I not do that? ’
* * *
In tears, I returned to My Beloved
and said
‘O my dearest one,
a week has passed, and the world
pressed hard upon me…
‘The next day, I remembered You
three times each hour;
the second day, I remembered You
but once an hour;
on the third day, I remembered You
in some hours, once; some twice;
some not at all… and so it went…
But O My Beloved,
each morning as I woke
I remembered through my tears
how I had forgotten You…’
My Beloved said
‘In the remembering of the forgetting
there was a feast of sweetest honey for Me,
hiding like a new young bride
laughing with her bridegroom,
laughing with her eyes on Him,
in the silken tent of love.’
poem by Michael Shepherd
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In the spirit of Rumi - 10
I said to My Beloved
You have given me all Your love;
I have given You all my love;
what more can I give to You?
My Beloved said
If you love Me, then show your love
by seeing, knowing, all
that happens to you in your short life
as gifts from Me..
all events, all acts, all thoughts,
all seeming accidents, all illnesses,
all that arises from your meetings with others,
all their words to you –
see them all as Me
I said to My Beloved,
O My Beloved, my love is great
yet my will is weak;
I love You as I love life itself -
help me in this!
My Beloved said
It will not be easy; for
this will be the measure of your love for Me…
My help is this:
every time you see Me in some passing moment,
in some passing event in your life
be it harsh, or seem unfair— yes,
especially in this, my fiercely loving love -
you will know My love for you
as you have never known My love
for you so great, so pure
I said to My Beloved
This hard and lovely thing, O My Beloved,
will be the measure of my love for You.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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One Whisper of the Beloved
Lovers share a sacred decree –
to seek the Beloved.
They roll head over heels,
rushing toward the Beautiful One
like a torrent of water.
In truth, everyone is a shadow of the Beloved –
Our seeking is His seeking,
Our words are His words.
At times we flow toward the Beloved
like a dancing stream.
At times we are still water
held in His pitcher.
At times we boil in a pot
turning to vapor –
that is the job of the Beloved.
He breathes into my ear
until my soul
takes on His fragrance.
He is the soul of my soul –
How can I escape?
But why would any soul in this world
want to escape from the Beloved?
He will melt your pride
making you thin as a strand of hair,
Yet do not trade, even for both worlds,
One strand of His hair.
We search for Him here and there
while looking right at Him.
Sitting by His side we ask,
'O Beloved, where is the Beloved?'
Enough with such questions! –
Let silence take you to the core of life.
All your talk is worthless
When compared to one whisper
of the Beloved.
Beloved Porcupine
Doe not betraye thy beloved porcupine,
Confirmed it is; earth turns around a critter,
thee were bacchic, sipping bottles o' wine.
How could thee misbehave to a crit benign?
sly vulturettes desired the round flitter,
Doe not betraye thy beloved porcupine.
Now who will stand on supermarket line?
guilty thou art, dishonored and quitter,
thee were bacchic, sipping bottles o' wine.
Thou shalt nought mistreat a love so divine
In slopes thy porcupine will slide 'n' skitter,
Doe not betraye thy beloved porcupine
Thy porcupine cared for Italian, to dine;
In poem verses betwixt, embraced emitter,
thee were bacchic, sipping bottles o' wine.
Stirring thy mind, inspired poesy, Einstein,
perceptive kind, critter wisdom, on twitter
Doe not betraye thy beloved porcupine
thee were bacchic, sipping bottles o' wine.
A pentameter humorous Villanelle.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Sonnet XXVI
I lived with visions for my company
Instead of men and women, years ago,
And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know
A sweefer music than they played to me.
But soon their trailing purple was not free
Of this world's dust, their lutes did silent grow,
And I myself grew faint and blind below
Their vanishing eyes. Then THOU didst come--to be,
Beloved, what they seemed. Their shining fronts,
Their songs, their splendors (better, yet the same,
As river-water hallowed into fonts),
Met in thee, and from out thee overcame
My soul with satisfaction of all wants:
Because God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Xxvi
I lived with visions for my company
Instead of men and women, years ago,
And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know
A sweefer music than they played to me.
But soon their trailing purple was not free
Of this world's dust, their lutes did silent grow,
And I myself grew faint and blind below
Their vanishing eyes. Then THOU didst come--to be,
Beloved, what they seemed. Their shining fronts,
Their songs, their splendors (better, yet the same,
As river-water hallowed into fonts),
Met in thee, and from out thee overcame
My soul with satisfaction of all wants:
Because God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Sonnet XXVI: I Lived With Visions
I lived with visions for my company
Instead of men and women, years ago,
And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know
A sweeter music than they played to me.
But soon their trailing purple was not free
Of this world's dust, their lutes did silent grow,
And I myself grew faint and blind below
Their vanishing eyes. Then thou didst come--to be,
Belovèd, what they seemed. Their shining fronts,
Their songs, their splendors (better, yet the same,
As river water hallowed into fonts),
Met in thee, and from out thee overcame
My soul with satisfaction of all wants:
Because God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Brittania's Throne
MIRROR of the trackless sky,
Priestess of its changing mood,
Ere thy shores were piled on high
Thou didst feel God’s Spirit brood;
Thou didst hear His word alone;—
Be thou still Britannia’s throne.
From thy deeps the creeping things
Spread through cove and brook and fen,
Changing scales for soaring wings
And the mould of mortal men;
From thy womb the world hath grown!
Be thou still Britannia’s throne.
Then among the happier ones
Filing in millennial train,
Thou didst make us favoured sons,
Teaching us to rule and reign:
Thou didst call us for thine own—
Be thou still Britannia’s throne.
Mighty Mistress, thou didst school
England’s heart in all thy ways;
May she learn no nicer rule
In the ease of after days;
For the greatness we have known
Be thou still Britannia’s throne.
For the passion of our plea,
For the memory of our brave,
For the fights we fought for thee,
For the bones that thou dost lave,
For the love that we have shown!
Be thou still Britannia’s throne.
poem by Arthur Maquarie
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Babushka
THOU whose sunny heart outglows
Arctic snows;
Russia's hearth-fire, cherishing
Courage almost perishing;
Torch that beacons oversea
Till a world is at thy knee;
Babushka the Belovèd,
What Czar can exile thee?
Sweet, serene, unswerving soul,
To thy goal
Pressing on such mighty pinions
Tyrants quake for their dominions
And devise yet heavier key,
Deeper cell to prison thee,
Babushka the Belovèd,
Thyself art Liberty.
Though thy martyr body, old,
Chains may hold,
Clearer still thy voice goes ringing
Over steppe and mountain, bringing,
Holy mother of the free,
Millions more thy sons to be.
Babushka the Belovèd,
What death can silence thee?
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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Sonnet 26 - I lived with visions for my company
XXVI
I lived with visions for my company
Instead of men and women, years ago,
And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know
A sweeter music than they played to me.
But soon their trailing purple was not free
Of this world's dust, their lutes did silent grow,
And I myself grew faint and blind below
Their vanishing eyes. Then THOU didst come—to be,
Beloved, what they seemed. Their shining fronts,
Their songs, their splendors (better, yet the same,
As river-water hallowed into fonts),
Met in thee, and from out thee overcame
My soul with satisfaction of all wants:
Because God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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