Perdita
She is beautiful yet, with her wondrous hair
And eyes that are stormy with fitful light,
The delicate hues of brow and cheek
Are unmarred all, rose-clear and bright;
That matchless frame yet holds at bay
The crouching bloodhounds, Remorse, Decay.
There is no fear in her great dark eyes --
No hope, no love, no care,
Stately and proud she looks around
With a fierce, defiant stare;
Wild words deform her reckless speech,
Her laugh has a sadness tears never reach.
Whom should she fear on earth? Can Fate
One direr torment lend
To her few little years of glitter and gloom
With the sad old story to end
When the spectres of Loneliness, Want and Pain
Shall arise one night with Death in their train?
I see in a vision a woman like her
Trip down an orchard slope,
With rosy prattlers that shout a name
In tones of rapture and hope;
While the yeoman, gazing at children and wife,
Thanks God for the pride and joy of his life.
Whose conscience is heavy with this dark guilt?
Who pays at the final day
For a wasted body, a murdered soul,
And how shall he answer, I say,
For her outlawed years, her early doom,
And despair -- despair -- beyond the tomb?
poem by Rolf Boldrewood
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Related quotes
Sonnet XXVI: I Ever Love
To Despair
I ever love where never hope appears,
Yet hope draws on my never-hoping care,
And my life's hope would die, but for despair;
My never-certain joy breeds ever-certain fears;
Uncertain dread gives wings unto my hope,
Yet my hope's wings are laden so with fear
As they cannot ascend to my hope's sphere;
Though fear gives them more than a heav'nly scope,
Yet this large room is bounded with despair;
So my love is still fetter'd with vain hope,
And liberty deprives him of his scope,
And thus am I imprison'd in the air.
Then, sweet despair, awhile hold up thy head,
Or all my hope for sorrow will be dead.
poem by Michael Drayton
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Despair Is Darkness
DESPAIR IS DARKNESS
Despair is darkness-
Despair is death inside and death in the world and death in one’s own sad soul-
Despair is no way out -
Despair is the place where one is forever stuck -
Despair is the realization that one has done what one could – and one is not going anywhere else-
Despair is the admission of failure-
Despair is no sign of help anywhere around-
Despair is so much lost-
Despair is one‘s life is over-
Despair is regret-
Despair is the sense that one will never have the time to have another chance -
Despair is ‘it’s finished’-
Despair is no way out-
Despair is going down and more down and more dark and more afraid all the time -
Despair is the scream which hurts and does not stop the hurting -
Despair is the understanding that even Death will not save one -
Despair is that the pain will never end-not even with death.
Despair is no way out again and again and again- without end.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Hope
Life on earth is hard,
It is something we earned,
Every day a body is burned,
What a terrible fate,
Then I saw you,
Your smiling face,
You filled my life with grace,
What a beautiful fate,
So I took a deep breath,
Found the courage to keep going,
This might be my fate,
In your eyes,
In your eyes I saw hope,
In your eyes I saw life,
In your eyes I saw love,
In your eyes I saw the love of life,
I chose to live,
I chose to live for you,
In everything I do,
To always be with you,
Together we will live,
To others we will give,
Hope we will deliver,
With love, no one will suffer,
In your eyes,
In your eyes I see hope,
In your eyes I see life,
For you I'd give it all up,
For you I'd give up life,
Life on earth is hard but not with you,
Your eyes shine with the light of love,
With you I feel the blessings from above,
Your eyes see the depths of my soul,
Shining your light into my life,
I hope your love is my fate,
In your eyes I see love and light,
With you my hope is for life!
28 May 2012
poem by David Andre' Klopper
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The Negro Mother
Children, I come back today
To tell you a story of the long dark way
That I had to climb, that I had to know
In order that the race might live and grow.
Look at my face -- dark as the night --
Yet shining like the sun with love's true light.
I am the dark girl who crossed the red sea
Carrying in my body the seed of the free.
I am the woman who worked in the field
Bringing the cotton and the corn to yield.
I am the one who labored as a slave,
Beaten and mistreated for the work that I gave --
Children sold away from me, I'm husband sold, too.
No safety , no love, no respect was I due.
Three hundred years in the deepest South:
But God put a song and a prayer in my mouth .
God put a dream like steel in my soul.
Now, through my children, I'm reaching the goal.
Now, through my children, young and free,
I realized the blessing deed to me.
I couldn't read then. I couldn't write.
I had nothing, back there in the night.
Sometimes, the valley was filled with tears,
But I kept trudging on through the lonely years.
Sometimes, the road was hot with the sun,
But I had to keep on till my work was done:
I had to keep on! No stopping for me --
I was the seed of the coming Free.
I nourished the dream that nothing could smother
Deep in my breast -- the Negro mother.
I had only hope then , but now through you,
Dark ones of today, my dreams must come true:
All you dark children in the world out there,
Remember my sweat, my pain, my despair.
Remember my years, heavy with sorrow --
And make of those years a torch for tomorrow.
Make of my pass a road to the light
Out of the darkness, the ignorance, the night.
Lift high my banner out of the dust.
Stand like free men supporting my trust.
Believe in the right, let none push you back.
Remember the whip and the slaver's track.
Remember how the strong in struggle and strife
Still bar you the way, and deny you life --
But march ever forward, breaking down bars.
Look ever upward at the sun and the stars.
Oh, my dark children, may my dreams and my prayers
Impel you forever up the great stairs --
For I will be with you till no white brother
Dares keep down the children of the Negro Mother.
poem by Langston Hughes
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Something Never There
I'm lying in this pool of dark,
I'm crying out despair,
I'm mourning for what I have not lost,
For something never there,
I watched you from a distance,
And hope flared within my chest,
But then I heard,
And then I knew,
Then the black took my hand,
From the light came darkness,
And from the hope despair,
For my love has killed me,
And caused my blood to spill,
Led my soul into damnation,
Been my bodies end,
I hope that in my final stand,
My soul has been set free,
Free from a hollow cage,
Bound in chains of tainted love,
I'm hoping now it's ended,
Hoping dark will turn to light,
But I'm lying in this pool of dark,
Crying out despair,
Mourning what I have not lost,
And what was never there,
Hoping light will come,
BUt knowing,
Knowing light will never shine,
On such a sullied heart,
And in my final stand,
I took my leave,
My life.
poem by Holly Heron
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Despair Of The Early Morning
DESPAIR OF THE EARLY MORNING
Despair of the early morning
Despair of the darkness
Despair of the Despair
Despair of Old Age
Despair of the road closed
Despair of nothing to do
Despair of nowhere to go
Despair of endless errands
Despair of money running out
Despair of the message of Despair
One transmits to those one loves.
Despair that has to be resisted
Despair that the light of the day
Will help me overcome
Despair I will pray my way out of
Despair I will in the course of the day
Sometime overcome.
Not the great Despair
The unending Despair
The final Despair.
The small Despair of who I am and where I am now.
The Despair that still can be resisted,
By the writing of a few awkward lines
Early in the morning.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Prison Bell
Hark to the bell of sorrow! - 'tis awak'ning up again
Each broken spirit from its brief forgetfulness of pain.
Its sad sound seems to me to be a deathwail from the past,
An elegy for buried joys too pure and bright to last.
It haunts me like an echo from the dark depths of despair,
And conjures up the fiend-like forms of misery and care;
The saddest of the sorrowful, its tones bright dreams dispel,
For waking woes are summoned by the harsh-toned prison bell.
It tells me that I am not now what once I used to be,
A dearly loved and loving boy whose heart was light with glee;
It tells me that life's coming years must be long years of pain,
And that my brow with innocence can ne'er be wreathed again:
That I must wander through this world all friendless and forlorn,
Unsolaced by affection's smile, the thing of shame and scorn.
Those fearful tones, those dirge-like tones, what fearful tales they tell!
It rings the death of hope and joy, that sadly sounding bell.
How oft when some bright vision of the days of olden time
Comes o'er me like an angel dream from heaven's own hallowed clime,
And beautiful and holy things - the bright stars and the flowers,
And childhood's prayer - were dear to me as in life's sinless hours.
How oft, too, when in such dreams I wander by the side
Of one fair form whom virtue might have won me for my bride,
They come, those tones so horrible, those drear tones through my cell,
And memory shuddereth to hear the harsh-toned prison bell.
That bell! - how many hear it sound who've ceased to struggle long,
Who, reckless of crime's after doom, have linked themselves to wrong;
And heard it is with shuddering and tearful vain regret
By those who for one first bad act for years must suffer yet.
'Tis also sadly heard by some strange-struggling beings who
Cling to the false and evil while they love the good and true;
And some - a few - all innocent, who've learned, alas! Too well
That man's best judgement sometimes errs, may weep to hear that bell.
I've heard it when bright memories have crowded to my brain,
When hopes and aspirations high have whispering come again;
And it hath sought to crush each thought that fain would save from ill.
As wildly it hath chanted forth, 'Despair; be evil still.'
But no, a prison oft hath proved a holy place of yore,
And if the heart yearns for the good, God will the good restore,
Then courage soul: let faith's bright beams grief's darksome shades dispel,
And days of joy may yet be thine far from the prison bell.
poem by Owen Suffolk
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Trapped In Despair
I was placed in sadness
I was placed in darkness
I was placed in fear
Trapped in a place called despair
Despair is cold
Despair is unkind
Despair he lingers all the time
You find yourself clinging to the light
Just praying for that light
Please light save me for I am…trapped in despair
Then you see the light and it turns to your eyes
it turns to your smile
at the sound of your angelic voice…
the place grows warm
all fear flees
the light that is your eyes fills this place the darkness is chased away
My sadness has vanished
You extend a firm hand and rip me from despair
You wrap your arms around me and whisper in my ear…
Never again will you be…trapped in despair.
poem by N.S. Colette
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Without You
Without you,
These feelins persist,
These persistent feelins,
That which was once gained
That which was soon lost
Others sing while I sigh
Others laugh while I weep
I am robbed of rest
Pain lulls me asleep,
Without you,
These moods prevail,
These prevailin' moods,
The voice, hear and obey
Sister to despair
Monarch of the lost
Come down, my bluster
Swells no more
The stormy rage blows,
Without you,
This gloom pervades,
This pervadin' gloom,
To the depths below
Down I must go
The Dark Muse speaks
Her words; must record
All is forsaken,
Without you,
This despair lingers,
This lingerin' despair,
Eternal Darkness
Eternal chains bind
To infinite pain
Let 'em come, Let 'em
Eternal Shadows
This is what awaits,
Without you,
This hope fadin',
This fadin' hope,
There must be some way
Some kinda way
To work this out
Cause I just can't
Be much longer
Without you, without you
poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
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A Worldly Death-Bed
Hush! speak in accents soft and low,
And treat with careful stealth
Thro’ that rich curtained room which tells
Of luxury and wealth;
Men of high science and of skill
Stand there with saddened brow,
Exchanging some low whispered words—
What can their art do now?
Follow their gaze to yonder couch
Where moans in fitful pain
The mistress of this splendid home,
With aching heart and brain.
The fever burning in her veins
Tinges with carmine bright
That sunken cheek—alas! she needs
No borrowed bloom to-night.
The masses of her raven hair
Fall down on either side
In tangled richness—it has been
Through life her care and pride;
And those small perfect hands on which
Her gaze complacent fell,
Now, clenched within her pillow’s lace,
Of anguish only tell.
Sad was her restless, fev’rish sleep,
More sad her waking still,
As with wild start she looks around
Her chamber darkened—still;
Its silence and the mournful looks
Of those who stand apart,
Some awful fear seem to suggest
To that poor worldly heart.
“Doctor, I’m better, am I not?”
She gasps with failing breath—
Alas! the answer sternly tells
That she is “ill to death.”
“What! dying!” and her eyes gleam forth
A flashing, fearful ray,
“I, young, rich, lovely, from this earth
To pass so soon away?
“No, no, it must not, cannot be,
Surely your skill can save—
Can stand between me and the gloom,
The horrors, of the grave!”
Breathless she listens, but no word
Breaks that dull pause of grief,—
Her pitying listeners turn away,
They cannot give relief
Tossing aloft, in fierce despair,
Her arms, with frenzied cry,
She gasps forth, “Save me—help, O help!
I must not, will not die.”
But One can grant that wild appeal,
Can stay her failing breath—
Of Him she never thought in life
Nor thinks she now in death.
Without one prayer, one contrite tear,
For past faults to atone—
For wasted talents, misspent life,
She’s gone before God’s throne!
Prying that wilful, wayward heart
That leaned on gods of clay,
For calmer, holier death than hers
With solemn heart we pray.
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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November Fifth
Anniversary of the Loss of H.M.S. Tweed
Oh, what relief to gaze on yonder sky,
Where all is holy, calm, and purely bright!
Within, the sound of mirth and revelry
Startles the timid ear of sober night.
And eyes are bright and silver voices thrill,
As the harp echoes through the glittering hall;
The jest is there that wakes the laugh at will,
And mirth has cast her fairy spell o'er all.
I turn, fair spirit of light! where peaceful thou
Art shining in unatler'd majesty;
The thin clouds float across thy placid brow,
And catch its silver beam in passing by.
To-night!—oh! on this night—nor many years
Have wasted, since in sad regret and pain,
Upon the wave, the sound of woe, and tears,
And frantic pray'rs arose—arose in vain!
Thy light was shrouded then in deepest gloom;
On that dark coast no friendly radiance shone
To warn the victims of their gaping tomb—
Despair and death and horror reign'd alone!
Shine on, shine on, thou treacherous planet still;
Gild with thy beams the now untroubled wave:
Alas! thou fair and fatal cause of ill,
Thy smiles are lovely—but too late to save!
poem by Louisa Stuart Costello
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But Don't Despair
Despair, if you must –
But how's it going to pull you through?
Despair, when you trust
Naught since then there's naught to do.
Despair, should you thrust
Aside your pride, your self-esteem.
And so despair, if it's dust,
The only substance that you deem.
Despair, when a gust
Of slightly breeze can break your stance.
And do despair, when lust
Is your interpretation of romance.
But don't despair, if you can care
About the plight of any other being.
And you can focus on the help,
Support, and altruistic further actions
For the seeing. Be believing,
As despair will start receding
All around – simply since you found
A way to steer you clear
From this: the very cause of your despair!
So give to others; give them all a helping lift:
Despair, you'll find will disappear –
And that has got to be a well-deserved
And saintly gift!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Rain of despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Loneliness When The Dark Brings Tears
Loneliness
When the Dark Brings Tears
...........................................
I gazed out toward
the cold graveyard
and wondered if
she was peaceful
this night?
Wondered if her eternal sleep
brought to her nightmares
she could not fight?
My eyes gazed from
that cemetery
down
to my
writing pad
and I did frown
upon remembering
the time she placed
her hand in mine
A delicate flower
so very sublime
The Raven calls
and his echo is clear
'Come to the grave
where I am near
Come look down.'
he seems to say
perched on that stone
monument
where she lay
'For your grief
is strong
but weep not
see
Have no fear of
mortality
For a message I bring
to you this night
for death
is but
a long
long flight
My darling dear
do not fret
I lay in this ground
but I am not dead
I live in your heart
and will not stray.'
And with that
the Raven
flew away...
I watched his form
glide into the mist
A dark messenger
yes
And then
I kissed
the stone upon which
he was perched that night
Giving me hope
that she was alright
For death is the beginning
to a journey's end
As the tears stung my eyes
I knew she did send
the Raven that night
to stem my fears
of loneliness
when the dark
brings tears
{Copyright}
© 2009
Wayne Leon Learmond
Loneliness
When the Dark Brings Tears
All Rights Reserved
poem by Wayne Leon Learmond
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A Dark Chapter
Joy has been left for a reason
Order will blind me
Hand me the chance will I take it
And play the game
No need no guilt for tomorrow
Now counting down for
Ending this task shall I torment
Standing in grace
Gone I will find myself lost
And still reach the top
Yesterday was reality
Lord I will sacrifice life
Is this fear undisguised
Standing outside a fatal scene
Walking through mist and the shadows
Close to this crossroad
Choosing the way for a future
Lies in our hands
Move on don't stop nor give up
No time, no waiting
Sentenced to reach, be a dreamer
Now hear my calls
Gone I will find myself lost
And still reach the top
Yesterday was reality
Lord I will sacrifice life
Is this fear undisguised
Standing outside a fatal scene
Hope shall guide us forever
Grant me time for our answer
Patronized, fragile dreams must stay alive
Hope shall guide us forever
Grant me time for our answer
Patronized, fragile dreams must stay alive
Think what's beyond this darkness
Waiting for answers
I will believe in my future
Dreams lies within
Bring me joy, bring me freedom
Bring me some conscience
Leave me with strength and respect
Lead me through pain
Gone I will find myself lost
And still reach the top
Yesterday was reality
Lord I will sacrifice life
Is this fear undisguised
Standing outside a fatal scene
Nothing you say, will change things
Grief from within still teach me
All of my past, in vain
Dark turns to light, turns to night-time
Seduced by a life so far from here
Now desolates from within
Bring back the joy take me back again,
Away from deception and pain
I'm aware, alone we are facing the dark
Chow me the way, guide me in the storm,
Care for me bring me some light
I am awake, alone we're waiting the dark
I am awake, alone we're waiting
Hope shall guide us forever
Grant me time for our answer
Patronized, fragile dreams must stay alive
song performed by by Zonata
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anticipation
'Coming events cast their shadow before.'
I had a vision in the summer light—
Sorrow was in it, and my inward sight
Ached with sad images. The touch of tears
Gushed down my cheeks:—the figured woes of years
Casting their shadows across sunny hours.
Oh, there was nothing sorrowful in flowers
Wooing the glances of an April sun,
Or apple blossoms opening one by one
Their crimson bosoms—or the twittered words
And warbled sentences of merry birds;—
Or the small glitter and the humming wings
Of golden flies and many colored things—
Oh, these were nothing sad—nor to see Her,
Sitting beneath the comfortable stir
Of early leaves—casting the playful grace
Of moving shadows in so fair a face—
Nor in her brow serene—nor in the love
Of her mild eyes drinking the light above
With a long thirst—nor in her gentle smile—
Nor in her hand that shone blood-red the while
She raised it in the sun. All these were dear
To heart and eye—but an invisible fear
Shook in the trees and chilled upon the air,
And if one spot was laughing brightest—there
My soul most sank and darkened in despair!—
As if the shadows of a curtained room
Haunted me in the sun—as if the bloom
Of early flow'rets had no sweets for me,
Nor apple blossoms any blush to see—
As if the hour had brought too bright a day—
And little birds were all too gay!—too gay!—
As if the beauty of that Lovely One
Were all a fable.—Full before the sun
Stood Death and cast a shadow long before,
Like a dark pall enshrouding her all o'er,
Till eyes, and lips, and smiles, were all no more!
poem by Thomas Hood
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Gertrude, Or Fidelity Till Death
Dark lowers our fate,
And terrible the storm that gathers o'er us;
But nothing, till that latest agony
Which severs thee from nature, shall unloose
This fix'd and sacred hold. In thy dark prison-house,
In the terrific face of armed law,
Yea, on the scaffold, if it needs must be,
I never will forsake thee.
-Joanna Baillie
HER hands were clasp'd, her dark eyes rais'd,
The breeze threw back her hair;
Up to the fearful wheel she gaz'd–
All that she lov'd was there.
The night was round her clear and cold,
The holy heaven above,
Its pale stars watching to behold
The might of earthly love.
'And bid me not depart,' she cried,
'My Rudolph, say not so!
This is no time to quit thy side,
Peace, peace! I cannot go.
Hath the world aught for me to fear,
When death is on thy brow?
The world!–what means it?–mine is here–
I will not leave thee now.
'I have been with thee in thine hour
Of glory and of bliss;
Doubt not its memory's living power
To strengthen me thro' this!
And thou, mine honour'd love and true,
Bear on, bear nobly on!
We have the blessed heaven in view,
Whose rest shall soon be won.'
And were not these high words to flow
From woman's breaking heart?
Thro' all that night of bitterest woe
She bore her lofty part;
But oh! with such a glazing eye,
With such a curdling cheek–
Love, love! of mortal agony,
Thou, only thou, should'st speak!
The wind rose high–but with it rose
Her voice, that he might hear:
Perchance that dark hour brought repose
To happy bosoms near;
While she sat striving with despair
Beside his tortured form,
And pouring her deep soul in prayer
Forth on the rushing storm.
She wiped the death-damps from his brow
With her pale hands and soft,
Whose touch upon the lute-chords low
Had still'd his heart so oft.
She spread her mantle o'er his breast,
She bath'd his lips with dew,
And on his cheek such kisses press'd
As hope and joy ne'er knew.
Oh! lovely are ye, Love and Faith,
Enduring to the last!
She had her meed–one smile in death–
And his worn spirit pass'd.
While ev'n as o'er a martyr's grave
She knelt on that sad spot,
And, weeping, bless'd the God who gave
Strength to forsake it not!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Evening Prayer at a Girl's School
HUSH! 'tis a holy hour-the quiet room
Seems like a temple, while yon soft lamp sheds
A faint and starry radiance, through the gloom
And the sweet stillness, down on fair young heads,
With all their clustering locks, untouch'd by care,
And bow'd, as flowers are bow'd with night, in prayer.
Gaze on-'tis lovely!-Childhood's lip and cheek,
Mantling beneath its earnest brow of thought-
Gaze-yet what seest thou in those fair, and meek,
And fragile things, as but for sunshine wrought?-
Thou seest what grief must nurture for the sky,
What death must fashion for eternity!
O! joyous creatures! that will sink to rest,
Lightly, when those pure orisons are done,
As birds, with slumber's honey-dew opprest,
'Midst the dim folded leaves, at set of sun-
Life up your hearts! though yet no sorrow lies
Dark in the summer-heaven of those clear eyes.
Though fresh within your breasts the untroubled springs
Of hope make melody where'er ye tread,
And o'er your sleep bright shadows, from the wings
Of spirits visiting but youth, be spread;
Yet in those flute-like voices, mingling low,
Is woman's tenderness-how soon her woe!
Her lot is on you-silent tears to weep,
And patient smiles to wear through suffering's hour,
And sumless riches, from affection's deep,
To pour on broken reeds-a wasted shower!
And to make idols, and to find them clay,
And to bewail that worship-therefore pray!
Her lot is on you-to be found untired,
Watching the stars out by the bed of pain,
With a pale cheek, and yet a brow inspired,
And a true heart of hope, though hope be vain;
Meekly to bear with wrong, to cheer decay,
And oh! to love through all things-therefore pray!
And take the thought of this calm vesper time,
With its low murmuring sounds and silvery light,
On through the dark days fading from their prime,
As a sweet dew to keep your souls from blight!
Earth will forsake-O! happy to have given
The unbroken heart's first fragrance unto Heaven.
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Two Gods
‘Twas in the spring, two Gods gazed down upon the bright new land,
And one was Hope and one was Fear, and Hope it was who planned
This nation with its beauty and its wealth would surely be
The shining light to all the Earth - this was the God's decree.
But Fear it was who scratched his chin and begged to differ there,
Said he, that he would wager it would all end in despair,
And Hope took up the wager, for he was true to his name,
At stake the new land's fate, as Hope and Fear began the game.
And through that spring, the nation thrived, as sailing oceans wide
Came people from the worn out lands, where hope had all but died.
They cleared and built and farmed and tilled and made the country bloom.
They left, in far divided lands, dark thoughts of hate and doom.
Hope smiled at his companion but Fear's face showed no concern;
Still all went well, and soon to summer saw the season turn.
The cities grew, the country thrived, they battled drought and flood.
In foreign wars, sometimes in vain, spilled of their best their blood.
But built unique a people proud, united in their quest,
To not allow the old hatreds, to only choose the best.
No creed that would divide them, would they in this place allow;
They knew the course of history, their stance they would avow.
Then autumn came and Hope remained, but near, a nagging Fear.
The two gazed from the firmament, they heard the people jeer.
The calls to scrap the old ways, and embrace the new found truth;
Abandon hope and vision now that doubt and fear were sooth.
The old ideas like gilded leaves from wisdom's tree must fall,
As all around from ivory towers rang out the strident call,
And right across the land there spread a dark and mouldering cloud,
And those who shouting warnings soon were trampled by the crowd.
The old ways were all wrong - the cry of wreckers seeking power,
As winter's cold winds start to blow comes on the final hour,
And Fear smiles wide at Hope, and to him slowly shows his hand,
And in his palm, with sinking heart, Hope lays the promised land.
poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Does Fate always take sides?
25 years into this world,
already wanting to get free.
Invisible chains of bondage,
and a lock without a key.
Ah! these festering wounds,
a heart sore to the core.
Thousand shattered dreams,
a spirit too broken to explore!
Life seemed so rosy,
when young and bright
Dreams were vivid,
As moon on a fortnight.
So why now this gulf,
such deep abyss
Between the wishes fulfilled
And those gone amiss!
Now, Hope and despair,
daily lock for the scrum
The game gets over,
with Hope always glum
The dark cloud of despair,
still victoriously hung
Does fate take sides,
As a general rule of thumb?
poem by Saurabh Saxena
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The American Forest Girl
Wildly and mournfully the Indian drum
On the deep hush of moonlight forests broke;
'Sing us a death-song, for thine hour is come,
So the red warriors to their captive spoke.
Still, and amidst those dusky forms alone,
A youth, a fair-hair'd youth of England stood,
Like a king's son; tho' from his cheek had flown
The mantling crimson of the island-blood,
And his press'd lips look'd marble. Fiercely bright,
And high around him, blaz'd the fires of night,
Rocking beneath the cedars to and fro,
As the wind pass'd, and with a fitful glow
Lighting the victim's face: But who could tell
Of what within his secret heart befel,
Known but to heaven that hour? Perchance a thought
Of his far home then so intensely wrought,
That its full image, pictur'd to his eye
On the dark ground of mortal agony,
Rose clear as day! and he might see the band,
Of his young sisters wand'ring hand in hand,
Where the laburnums droop'd; or haply binding
The jasmine, up the door's low pillars winding;
Or, as day clos'd upon their gentle mirth,
Gathering with braided hair, around the hearth
Where sat their mother; and that mother's face
Its grave sweet smile yet wearing in the place
Where so it ever smiled!Perchance the prayer
Learn'd at her knee came back on his despair;
The blessing from her voice, the very tone
Of her 'Good-night' might breathe from boyhood gone!
He started and look'd up: thick cypress boughs
Full of strange sound, wav'd o'er him, darkly red
In the broad stormy firelight; savage brows,
With tall plumes crested and wild hues o'erspread,
Girt him like feverish phantoms; and pale stars
Look'd thro' the branches as thro' dungeon bars,
Shedding no hope. He knew, he felt his doom
Oh! what a tale to shadow with its gloom
That happy hall in England! Idle fear!
Would the winds tell it? Who might dream or hear
The secret of the forests? to the stake
They bound him; and that proud young soldier strove
His father's spirit in his breast to wake,
Trusting to die in silence! He, the love
Of many hearts! the fondly rear'd, the fair,
Gladdening all eyes to see! And fetter'd there.
He stood beside his death-pyre, and the brand
Flamed up to light it, in the chieftain's hand.
He thought upon his God. Hush! hark! a cry
Breaks on the stern and dread solemnity,
A step hath pierc'd the ring! Who dares intrude
On the dark hunters in their vengeful mood?
A girl a young slight girl a fawn-like child
Of green Savannas and the leafy wild,
Springing unmark'd till then, as some lone flower,
Happy because the sunshine is its dower;
Yet one that knew how early tears are shed,
For hers had mourn'd a playmate brother dead.
She had sat gazing on the victim long,
Until the pity of her soul grew strong;
And, by its passion's deep'ning fervour sway'd,
Ev'n to the stake she rush'd, and gently laid
His bright head on her bosom, and around
His form her slender arms to shield it wound
Like close liannes; then rais'd her glittering eye
And clear-toned voice that said, 'He shall not die!'
'He shall not die!' the gloomy forest thrill'd
To that sweet sound. A sudden wonder fell
On the fierce throng; and heart and hand were still'd,
Struck down, as by the whisper of a spell.
They gaz'd their dark souls bow'd before the maid,
She of the dancing step in wood and glade!
And, as her cheek flush'd thro' its olive hue,
As her black tresses to the night-wind flew,
Something o'ermaster'd them from that young mien–
Something of heaven, in silence felt and seen;
And seeming, to their child-like faith, a token
That the Great Spirit by her voice had spoken.
They loos'd the bonds that held their captive's breath;
From his pale lips they took the cup of death;
They quench'd the brand beneath the cypress tree;
'Away,' they cried, 'young stranger, thou art free!'
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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