Great Lover, The
I have been so great a lover: filled my days
So proudly with the splendour of Love's praise,
The pain, the calm, and the astonishment,
Desire illimitable, and still content,
And all dear names men use, to cheat despair,
For the perplexed and viewless streams that bear
Our hearts at random down the dark of life.
Now, ere the unthinking silence on that strife
Steals down, I would cheat drowsy Death so far,
My night shall be remembered for a star
That outshone all the suns of all men's days.
Shall I not crown them with immortal praise
Whom I have loved, who have given me, dared with me
High secrets, and in darkness knelt to see
The inenarrable godhead of delight?
Love is a flame; -- we have beaconed the world's night.
A city: -- and we have built it, these and I.
An emperor: -- we have taught the world to die.
So, for their sakes I loved, ere I go hence,
And the high cause of Love's magnificence,
And to keep loyalties young, I'll write those names
Golden for ever, eagles, crying flames,
And set them as a banner, that men may know,
To dare the generations, burn, and blow
Out on the wind of Time, shining and streaming. . . .
These I have loved:
White plates and cups, clean-gleaming,
Ringed with blue lines; and feathery, faery dust;
Wet roofs, beneath the lamp-light; the strong crust
Of friendly bread; and many-tasting food;
Rainbows; and the blue bitter smoke of wood;
And radiant raindrops couching in cool flowers;
And flowers themselves, that sway through sunny hours,
Dreaming of moths that drink them under the moon;
Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that soon
Smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss
Of blankets; grainy wood; live hair that is
Shining and free; blue-massing clouds; the keen
Unpassioned beauty of a great machine;
The benison of hot water; furs to touch;
The good smell of old clothes; and other such --
The comfortable smell of friendly fingers,
Hair's fragrance, and the musty reek that lingers
About dead leaves and last year's ferns. . . .
Dear names,
And thousand other throng to me! Royal flames;
Sweet water's dimpling laugh from tap or spring;
Holes in the ground; and voices that do sing;
Voices in laughter, too; and body's pain,
Soon turned to peace; and the deep-panting train;
Firm sands; the little dulling edge of foam
That browns and dwindles as the wave goes home;
And washen stones, gay for an hour; the cold
Graveness of iron; moist black earthen mould;
Sleep; and high places; footprints in the dew;
And oaks; and brown horse-chestnuts, glossy-new;
And new-peeled sticks; and shining pools on grass; --
All these have been my loves. And these shall pass,
Whatever passes not, in the great hour,
Nor all my passion, all my prayers, have power
To hold them with me through the gate of Death.
They'll play deserter, turn with the traitor breath,
Break the high bond we made, and sell Love's trust
And sacramented covenant to the dust.
---- Oh, never a doubt but, somewhere, I shall wake,
And give what's left of love again, and make
New friends, now strangers. . . .
But the best I've known,
Stays here, and changes, breaks, grows old, is blown
About the winds of the world, and fades from brains
Of living men, and dies.
Nothing remains.
O dear my loves, O faithless, once again
This one last gift I give: that after men
Shall know, and later lovers, far-removed,
Praise you, "All these were lovely"; say, "He loved."
Mataiea, 1914
poem by Rupert Brooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Great Lover
I have been so great a lover: filled my days
So proudly with the splendour of Love's praise,
The pain, the calm, and the astonishment,
Desire illimitable, and still content,
And all dear names men use, to cheat despair,
For the perplexed and viewless streams that bear
Our hearts at random down the dark of life.
Now, ere the unthinking silence on that strife
Steals down, I would cheat drowsy Death so far,
My night shall be remembered for a star
That outshone all the suns of all men's days.
Shall I not crown them with immortal praise
Whom I have loved, who have given me, dared with me
High secrets, and in darkness knelt to see
The inenarrable godhead of delight?
Love is a flame; - we have beaconed the world's night.
A city: - and we have built it, these and I.
An emperor: - we have taught the world to die.
So, for their sakes I loved, ere I go hence,
And the high cause of Love's magnificence,
And to keep loyalties young, I'll write those names
Golden for ever, eagles, crying flames,
And set them as a banner, that men may know,
To dare the generations, burn, and blow
Out on the wind of Time, shining and streaming. . . .
These I have loved:
White plates and cups, clean-gleaming,
Ringed with blue lines; and feathery, faery dust;
Wet roofs, beneath the lamp-light; the strong crust
Of friendly bread; and many-tasting food;
Rainbows; and the blue bitter smoke of wood;
And radiant raindrops couching in cool flowers;
And flowers themselves, that sway through sunny hours,
Dreaming of moths that drink them under the moon;
Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that soon
Smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss
Of blankets; grainy wood; live hair that is
Shining and free; blue-massing clouds; the keen
Unpassioned beauty of a great machine;
The benison of hot water; furs to touch;
The good smell of old clothes; and other such -
The comfortable smell of friendly fingers,
Hair's fragrance, and the musty reek that lingers
About dead leaves and last year's ferns. . . .
Dear names,
And thousand other throng to me! Royal flames;
Sweet water's dimpling laugh from tap or spring;
Holes in the ground; and voices that do sing;
Voices in laughter, too; and body's pain,
Soon turned to peace; and the deep-panting train;
Firm sands; the little dulling edge of foam
That browns and dwindles as the wave goes home;
And washen stones, gay for an hour; the cold
Graveness of iron; moist black earthen mould;
Sleep; and high places; footprints in the dew;
And oaks; and brown horse-chestnuts, glossy-new;
And new-peeled sticks; and shining pools on grass; -
All these have been my loves. And these shall pass,
Whatever passes not, in the great hour,
Nor all my passion, all my prayers, have power
To hold them with me through the gate of Death.
They'll play deserter, turn with the traitor breath,
Break the high bond we made, and sell Love's trust
And sacramented covenant to the dust.
Oh, never a doubt but, somewhere, I shall wake,
And give what's left of love again, and make
New friends, now strangers. . . .
But the best I've known,
Stays here, and changes, breaks, grows old, is blown
About the winds of the world, and fades from brains
Of living men, and dies.
Nothing remains.
O dear my loves, O faithless, once again
This one last gift I give: that after men
Shall know, and later lovers, far-removed,
Praise you, "All these were lovely"; say, "He loved."
poem by Rupert Brooke (1914)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Lover Lover Lover
I asked my father,
I said, father change my name.
The one Im using now its covered up
With fear and filth and cowardice and shame.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
He said, I locked you in this body,
I meant it as a kind of trial.
You can use it for a weapon,
Or to make some woman smile.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
Then let me start again, I cried,
Please let me start again,
I want a face thats fair this time,
I want a spirit that is calm.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
I never never turned aside, he said,
I never walked away.
It was you who built the temple,
It was you who covered up my face.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
And may the spirit of this song,
May it rise up pure and free.
May it be a shield for you,
A shield against the enemy.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Calm In The Pain
I AM CALM IN THE PAIN
I am calm in the pain,
And calm in the rejection,
And calm through the insult,
And calm through the anger,
And calm calm calm,
Though I feel so deeply
How I have failed
I am calm
Very calm
So calm
Until suddenly
In the middle of the morning prayer
I begin to cry to God
Cry with a terrible crying
And then when the prayer done
Calm calm calm calm calm.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Self–love And Truth Incompatible
From thorny wilds a monster came,
That filled my soul with fear and shame;
The birds, forgetful of their mirth,
Drooped at the sight, and fell to earth;
When thus a sage addressed mine ear,
Himself unconscious of a fear:
'Whence all this terror and surprise,
Distracted looks and streaming eyes?
Far from the world and its affairs,
The joy it boasts, the pain it shares,
Surrender, without guile or art,
To God an undivided heart;
The savage form, so feared before,
Shall scare your trembling soul no more;
For, loathsome as the sight may be,
'Tis but the love of self you see.
Fix all your love on God alone,
Choose but his will, and hate your own:
No fear shall in your path be found,
The dreary waste shall bloom around,
And you, through all your happy days,
Shall bless his name, and sing his praise.'
Oh lovely solitude, how sweet
The silence of this calm retreat!
Here truth, the fair whom I pursue,
Gives all her beauty to my view;
The simple, unadorned display
Charms every pain and fear away.
O Truth, whom millions proudly slight;
O Truth, my treasure and delight;
Accept this tribute to thy name,
And this poor heart from which it came!
poem by William Cowper
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Poverty Vavroovahana Patra
Tears filled in the eyes, as I compare the rich with the poor;
Palatial buildings laugh at the small cottages of the poor.
With scanty income the poor feeds the children, contents their desire;
Life of poor is filled with fear.
O god, in thy kingdom, partiality reigns hither, thither;
Poor becomes poorer with thy desire.
Corruption is rampant among the officers;
Exploiting junior employees' property they content their desire.
O god! Thy Earth is a wonder;
Poor people roam hither, thither.
With their little income they content their desire.
On Earth they are cursed creatures.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poverty
Tears filled in the eyes, as a compare the rich with the poor;
Palatial buildings laugh at the small cottages of the poor.
With scanty income the poor feeds the children, contents their desire;
Life of poor is filled with fear.
O god, in thy kingdom, partiality reigns hither, thither;
Poor becomes poorer with thy desire.
Corruption is rampant among the officers;
Exploiting junior employees' property they content their desire.
O god! Thy Earth is wonder;
Poor people roam hither, thither;
With their little income they content their desire.
On Earth they are cursed creatures.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Dear Father
Sitting at my desk
I found myself in the past
Thinking of my father,
My dear father.
Then I remembered my mother
Her magical green eyes, giving me what I missed
But it wasn’t enough, I wanted more,
I wanted protection,
I wanted love,
Love from my dear father
I try to remember him
But he was not there,
There was my imagination
Playing with my thoughts
thoughts full of hate, it’s probably a mistake
But it was the mistake, of my dear father
I guess you don’t want to hear what I have to say
But I found it
I found the love that I needed
I found the missing piece,
The piece to complete my happiness
It wasn’t exactly what I have expected
But it was there and it filled me.
It filled me with pain, with passion
It filled me with strength; it filled me with a man’s body
It filled me with love as well as misery
It filled me with everything my dear father didn't
poem by Jomar Rosario
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Death
I.
They die--the dead return not--Misery
Sits near an open grave and calls them over,
A Youth with hoary hair and haggard eye--
They are the names of kindred, friend and lover,
Which he so feebly calls—they all are gone--
Fond wretch, all dead! those vacant names alone,
This most familiar scene, my pain--
These tombs—alone remain.
II.
Misery, my sweetest friend—oh, weep no more!
Thou wilt not be consoled—I wonder not!
For I have seen thee from thy dwelling’s door
Watch the calm sunset with them, and this spot
Was even as bright and calm, but transitory,
And now thy hopes are gone, thy hair is hoary;
This most familiar scene, my pain--
These tombs—alone remain.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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You Must Make Me
You must make me remember our younger days
when love had filled our desire.
You must not allow me to forget these times,
never let them expire.
For though we aged my heart beats wildly
and is filled with thoughts of you.
And I do not want them to quiet down
or disappear from my view.
You must find a way to keep at bay
the ever present fear
that surfaces in the ageing process
with each approaching year.
For though we cannot bring youth back,
we cannot let it die.
You must make me remember how we were.
You must content me with a sigh.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Sunny
Sunny,
Yesterday my life was filled with rain.
Sunny,
You smiled at me and really eased the pain.
The dark days are gone,
And the bright days are here,
My Sunny one shines so sincere.
Sunny one so true,
I love you.
Sunny,
Thank you for the sunshine bouquet.
Sunny,
Thank you for the love you brought my way.
You gave to me your all and all.
Now I feel ten feet tall.
Sunny one so true,
I love you.
Sunny, thank you for the truth you let me see.
Sunny, thank you for the facts from A to C.
My life was torn like a windblown sand,
And the rock was formed when you held my hand.
Sunny one so true,
I love you.
Sunny
Sunny,
Thank you for the smile upon your face.
Sunny,
Thank you for the gleam that shows its grace.
You're my spark of nature's fire,
You're my sweet complete desire.
Sunny one so true,
I love you.
Sunny,
Yesterday my life was filled with rain.
Sunny,
You smiled at me and really eased the pain.
The dark days are gone,
And the bright days are here,
My Sunny one shines so sincere.
Sunny one so true,
I love you.
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunny
Sunny, yesterday my life was filled with rain.
Sunny, you smiled at me and really eased the pain.
The dark days are gone, and the bright days are here,
My sunny one shines so sincere.
Sunny one so true, I love you.
Sunny, thank you for the sunshine bouquet.
Sunny, thank you for the love you brought my way.
You gave to me your all and all.
Now I feel ten feet tall.
Sunny one so true, I love you.
Sunny, thank you for the truth you let me see.
Sunny, thank you for the facts from a to c.
My life was torn like a windblown sand,
And the rock was formed when you held my hand.
Sunny one so true, I love you.
Sunny
Sunny, thank you for the smile upon your face.
Sunny, thank you for the gleam that shows its grace.
Youre my spark of natures fire,
Youre my sweet complete desire.
Sunny one so true, I love you.
Sunny, yesterday my life was filled with rain.
Sunny, you smiled at me and really eased the pain.
The dark days are gone, and the bright days are here,
My sunny one shines so sincere.
Sunny one so true, I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time, Perhaps
Time perhaps, for wonder –
to look around in awe
at how all that surrounds us
has somehow come about..
we who do not even know
how to grow a fingernail…
time perhaps, for gratitude –
for what we have already,
forgetting for a moment, our desires…
we who have forgotten
whom or how to thank..
time perhaps, for praise –
if not the Lawyer, praise the laws…
if not the lover, praise the love…
we who might become
praiseworthy through our praise…
time perhaps, for imagination –
to consider how things might be,
for then they might become…
we who have the world itself
inside us, just as much as that
great cosmos that’s out there…
time perhaps, for simplicity –
to pare life down to those things
which give us greatest joy –
and then, enjoy them all the more…
we who love complexity
when masquerading as the new…
time perhaps, for time –
to live a measured calm
of stillness, peace and rest
and find the joy there all the time …
we who ceaselessly invent
the labour-saving, and then find
ourselves a slave to these new toys…
time perhaps, to transcend time –
and live a timely life
of timeless joy; and know then,
all that’s not been mentioned here…
we who have yet to know
what human beings really are…
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunny
(bobby hebb)
Sunny, yesterday my life was filled with rain
Sunny, you smiled at me and really eased the pain
Oh, the dark days are done
The bright days are here
My sunny one shines so sincere
Sunny one so true
I love you
Sunny, thank you for that sunshine bouquet
Sunny, thank you for the love you brought my way
You gave to me your all and all
Now I feel ten feet tall
Sunny one so true
I love you
Sunny, thank you for the truth you let me see
Sunny, thank you for the facts from a to z
My life was torn like windblown sand
And then a rock was formed when we held hands
Sunny one so true
I love you
Sunny, thank for that smile upon your face
Sunny, thank you for that gleam that flows with grace
Youre my spark of natures fire
Youre my sweet complete desire
Sunny one so true
I love you
Sunny, yesterday my life was filled with rain
Sunny, you smiled at me and really eased the pain
The dark days are done
The bright days are here
My sunny one shines so sincere
Sunny one so true
Sunny one so true
Sunny one so true
I love you
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Choice
People carry so much hate in their hearts
It is like, they are filled with venom
Never did I try to actually hurt them
Hate, they are filled with.
My silence often everyone interprets as my weakness
They think they can just dominate me in the manner they desire
However, that is certainly not true
As I choose to be silent and calm because it is my choice
It is a choice which I have made, in order to live happily
Messing up with others is not what I do want
I just wish that things forever remain calm
Never, do I want to harm anyone, even with words
My choice is love, rest depends upon you.
poem by Rohit Sapra
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Memories I Harbor
Memories I Harbor
I decided to retire as destiny was against me.
The four cold walls the lap top and just me. …
The days seem long the nights oh so short.
As memories unfold of the days I boldy fought.
For dreams that I wished be soon a reality.
The laughter the joy was all mine in plenty.
Standing never alone and with many murmurs.
Of many a love story for the hearts to stir.
The days of school and friends sweet n near.
Hearts filled with delight with love so dear.
Now I open my wet eyes and Nature do speak.
As I see my hair with those greying streak.
I look around me so many loved ones..
Gone beyond, I stand alone under God sun.
Confused with pain youth cant understand.
Reach out for my grand kids kind hands.
The soft look the twinkle of their eyes.
And their sweetness special i do proudly spy.
Every step every move and their sparkling smile.
Fills my heart a happiness, journey worthwhile.
As my grandkids lay a good night kiss on my head.
It leads me to gently rest my tired self on bed.
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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All These Feelings
ALL THESE FEELINGS
All these feelings and their imprecise names
Joy and Sadness and Love
And Anger And Pain
And Mercy and Kindness
And Beauty and Lust
And Hunger and Sadness
And Love and Loneliness
And Anger and Peace from Pain-
Names and names
Feelings and more feelings
Life and more life
Living and feeling and not understanding
What it is
Even as it is
To the end of my days -
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Letter From Under The Sea
If you are my friend...
Help me...to leave you
Or if you are my lover...
Help me...so I can be healed of you...
If I knew....
that the ocean is very deep...I would not have swam...
If I knew...how I would end,
I would not have began
I desire you...so teach me not to desire
teach me...
how to cut the roots of your love from the depths
teach me...
how tears may die in the eyes
and love may commit suicide
If you are prophet,
Cleanse me from this spell
Deliver me from this atheism...
Your love is like atheism...so purify me from this atheism
If you are strong...
Rescue me from this ocean
For I don't know how to swim
The blue waves...in your eyes
drag me...to the depths
blue...
blue...
nothing but the color blue
and I have no experience
in love...and no boat...
If I am dear to you
then take my hand
For I am filled with desire...from my
head to my feet
I am breathing under water!
I am drowning...
drowning...
drowning...
poem by Nizar Qabbani
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S p l e n d o u r
The splendour in the elephant..
the splendour in a king;
the splendour in the human race;
the splendour of the rain, the seas;
the splendour which is God in gods;
with that same splendour, make me splendid, Lord..
*
from the RgVeda
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Dear Motherland Of France
DEDICATED TO THE MEN AND WOMEN OF FRANCE
Our Motherland, dear Motherland,
The source of beauty and of Art,
Who but thy children understand
The love which permeates each heart!
We see, through rainbow-tints of tears,
Thy glory of a thousand years.
O country of the Great and Free,
We live for thee, we live for thee,
Dear Motherland of France.
O Motherland, both blithe and brave,
What magic lies in thy name-France!
Yet can thy radiant mien be grave,
And stern thy ever-smiling glance.
And when thy sons and daughters know
That enemies would lay thee low
And dim thy fame on land and sea,
We fight for thee, we fight for thee,
Dear Motherland of France.
Dear Motherland of joy and mirth,
Dear Motherland of faith divine,
A thousand years the wondering earth
Has seen thy star in splendour shine.
Still shall it see that star of France
Its splendour and its light enhance.
Dear Motherland, when it need be
We die for thee, we die for thee,
Dear Motherland of France.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Pain Of Existence Without.....
It was pain of existence without your phone calls.....
This pain was not related to time, as time moved on.....
but the pain remained, pain and more pain....
without a phone call from you........
Time started moving, but there was no phone call, , , , , ,
I was lost with the acute awareness of this great pain.....
pain and more pain......
I wish I could tell you how much your phone calls mean to me, , , , ,
what if we have not met, what if we have not seen each other
but dear your phone call is what makes me pull through my day....
your voice is a magic to me, it is music to my ears....
but dear you never called.... and the pain remains...
The pain reminds me of the wonderful times we had....
the long phone calls.... your voice, your silence, , your moans
all this was so wonderful, which meant so much to me....
but dear you never called........
come back and call me dear...... and tell me how much I mean to you
call me once my love........
I wait for your magic voice, for all wonderful things you tell me....
for all the beautiful moments over phone we had.......
I wait with great pain, pain and pain.....
Just to hear you..... or get a message from you
Your messages are my breakfast, my dinner, , , ,
I sleep thinking of you hearing you, reading you...
I wake up to read your message..........
But dear you never called you never messaged....
come back just once my love come back
I just want to tell how much I miss your voice.............