Ch 05 On Love And Youth Story 16
I remember having in the days of my youth passed through a street, intending to see a moon-faced beauty. It was in Temuz, whose heat dried up the saliva in the mouth and whose simum boiled the marrow in my bones. My weak human nature being unable to endure the scorching sun, I took refuge in the shadow of a wall, wishing someone might relieve me from the summer heat and quench my fire with some water; and lo, all of a sudden, from the darkness of the porch of a house a light shone forth, namely a beauty, the grace of which the tongue of eloquence is unable to describe. She came out like the rising dawn after an obscure night or the water of immortality gushing from a dark cavern, carrying in her hand a bowl of snow-water, into which sugar had been poured and essence of roses mixed. I knew not whether she had perfumed it with rose-water or whether a few drops from her rosy face had fallen into it. In short, I took the beverage from her beautiful hands, drank it and began to live again.
The thirst of my heart cannot be quenched
By sipping limpid water even if I drink oceans of it.
Blessed is the man of happy destiny whose eye
Alights every morning on such a countenance.
One drunk of wine awakens at midnight,
One drunk of the cupbearer on the morn of resurrection.
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Man and Wife
Tamed by Miltown, we lie on Mother's bed;
the rising sun in war paint dyes us red;
in broad daylight her gilded bed-posts shine,
abandoned, almost Dionysian.
At last the trees are green on Marlborough Street,
blossoms on our magnolia ignite
the morning with their murderous five day's white.
All night I've held your hand,
as if you had
a fourth time faced the kingdom of the mad -
its hackneyed speech, its homicidal eye -
and dragged me home alive. . . . Oh my Petite,
clearest of all God's creatures, still all air and nerve:
you were in your twenties, and I,
once hand on glass
and heart in mouth,
outdrank the Rahvs in the heat
of Greenwich Village, fainting at your feet -
too boiled and shy
and poker-faced to make a pass,
while the shrill verve
of your invective scorched the traditional South.
Now twelve years later, you turn your back.
Sleepless, you hold
your pillow to your hollows like a child,
your old-fashioned tirade -
loving, rapid, merciless -
breaks like the Atlantic Ocean on my head.
poem by Robert Lowell
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Do You Remember?
Do you remember
our days in the
sun
Heat penetrating
us
hot and passoniate
yet so young, and
naive
the rain gently
falling
touching our faces
refreshing in its
wetness
stopping to embrace
clinging to each
other.
as a leaf clings to
the branch
refusing to let go
oh.!
the days of our
youth
now just a memory
do you remember?
poem by Heather Burns
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And You Don’t Remember Me
I sat on the park bench
pen and notebook in hand.
I watched all the people
as they passed on by.
I wondered how in life
each one of them had fared
with their happiness
and their sorrows.
I looked for inspiration
for something to write.
She looked at me and smiled,
I smiled back
thinking that was that.
“You don’t remember me? ”
She said and sat down.
I looked at her again
as memories swirled
around in my mind.
She was right
I didn’t remember her
Her hair was mousey colour
with flecks of grey
starting to appear here and there.
There were thick lines
across her forehead,
crow feet lines
near the corners of her eyes.
The corners of her mouth
drooped just slightly.
Her blues eyes were striking
and I knew I had seen them before,
but they were with a younger face
a long time ago.
A face that lit up
whenever she spoke.
“You still don’t remember me? ”
She asked once again.
I shook my head,
but unfortunately, I did.
I could remember
all the beauty
she had had in her youth,
before time had ravaged her
and taken away her beauty
and her youth.
She looked so sad.
I wanted to reach out
like I always wanted to,
but something deep inside,
a little voice you could call it,
kept telling me no.
My urge to hold her
was trying to win out,
but I couldn’t do it.
She was no longer
a part of my life.
All she was now
was a memory I clung to,
a memory of my youth
so long, long ago.
With notebook and pen,
I smiled and bit her farewell.
I whispered her name
as I said a last goodbye.
I didn’t look back
or I would have looked back with regret.
She was a past,
something none of us can ever relive.
poem by David Harris
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For moon
Moon are
swimming
clouds....
Clouds shado
clous the
Moon...
and open
the moon...
Moon was
Happly swimming...
15 days
full into black
15 days black
In to full moon...
Moon was beauty
of the sky...
sky was not
beauty for
Moon....
Around the stars
are beauty for
Moon....for moon...! !
poem by Poet Selvakumar
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The Old Man's Comforts and how he gained them
You are old, Father William, the young man cried,
The few locks which are left you are grey;
You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man,
Now tell me the reason I pray.
In the days of my youth, Father William replied,
I remember'd that youth would fly fast,
And abused not my health and my vigour at first
That I never might need them at last.
You are old, Father William, the young man cried,
And pleasures with youth pass away,
And yet you lament not the days that are gone,
Now tell me the reason I pray.
In the days of my youth, Father William replied,
I remember'd that youth could not last;
I thought of the future whatever I did,
That I never might grieve for the past.
You are old, Father William, the young man cried,
And life must be hastening away;
You are chearful, and love to converse upon death!
Now tell me the reason I pray.
I am chearful, young man, Father William replied,
Let the cause thy attention engage;
In the days of my youth I remember'd my God!
And He hath not forgotten my age.
poem by Robert Southey
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Dear Love, Do You Remember?
Dearest one, do you remember,
As we sat side by side,
How you told me that you loved me,
Asked me to be your bride.
And you told me we'd be happy,
Through all the years to come,
If we ever would prove faithful,
As in the days when we were young.
Oh! how well do I remember,
The kind and loving words,
And now as I sat dreaming,
The thoughts my memory stirs.
But the days have passed before me,
And the scenes of long ago,
But I can never forget the
Days that have passed o'er.
Oh! how clearly I remember
The days when we were young,
How we would tell to each other
Of happy times to come,
And as we would sit together,
That dear loved one and I,
Oh, sat dreaming of the future,
And childhood days gone by.
Dearest love, do you remember
The first time that we met --
Our youthful days have gone, love,
I hope you love me yet,
Now we are growing old, love,
Our heads will soon be gray,
May we ever love each other
Till from earth we pass away.
poem by Julia A Moore
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God Save The South
It was a red hot night night in mobile
Sweat glistened on the reverends chin
His mohair suit was shinin
He told us all about sin
It could be wall to wall in wall street
We could be livin hand to mouth
Jesus loved a yankee
But God saved the south
Across the street in the pool hall
Bubba put the eight ball down
Its a high five celebration
They passed the jack around
Its wall to wall in wall street
Were livin hand to mouth
Jesus loved a yankee
But God saved the south
God saved the south
Yankee boy shut your mouth
Yes, God saved the south
Yankee boy shut your mouth
Shut your mouth
Some long haired boys with guitars
Playin behind the chicken wire
Theyre goin up to new york city
Gonna sing about atlantas fire
It could be wall to wall in wall street
We could be livin hand to mouth
Jesus loved a yankee
But God saved the south
And God saved the south
Yankee boy shut your mouth
Yes, God saved the south
Yankee boy shut your mouth
Yes, God saved the south
Yankee boy shut your mouth
And God saved the south
So,yankee boy shut your mouth
And God saved the south
Yankee boy shut your mouth
Yes, God saved the south
So, yankee boy shut your mouth
God saved the south
So, yankee boy shut your mouth
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballade Of Mature Beauty
Easy comes beauty in youth’s natural spring,
But with age its mellow dimensions grow.
Like to a bud, a full bloom, age will bring.
With grace its beauty does ebb and glow,
Its liberty allows its new functions to show.
Mature beauty is and will be admired always,
Youth’s beauty and its esteem goes to and fro,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.
Mature beauty has a melody to sing,
And this it releases so that you will know,
The elegance and blessing of its echo’s ring.
The evidence of a mind is part of its show,
For it opens tastefully with a view to bestow.
Ageless beauty never lacks for praise.
The beauty of life’s spring may lose its glow,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.
In poetry and melody its praises we bring,
For mature beauty’s many dimensions we know.
With fervid dignity I see it take to wing,
Giving the young buds an inspiring show.
May you long guide youth as they grow,
Leading them in elegance the celestial ways.
So youth will know how easy beauty may go,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.
Now young buds aspire to full blooms grow,
And become worthy of nature’s timeless praise.
Allow your charm in majesty and grace to glow,
And may your ageless beauty have endless days.
poem by Albert Price
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The Days to Remember
Do you remember the days?
The days of Cinderella wanting to go the ball
The days of the seven dwarfs
The days when you believed in it
I remember those days
The days you held your mother’s hand
The days when you wished on a star
The days you believed that wish would come true
Do you remember the days?
The days of jump rope
The days of secret hand shakes
The days you believed it was just so easy
I remember those days
The days when you would hide and they would seek
The days of spending all day playing ball
The days you thought it would never get hard
We all remember those days
poem by Ambra Milton
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Cold Front
The white noise truly haunts me
So chilled by varying degrees...
Covered in the frost of days of old-
Much like the ice covering the trees;
Lending no warmth to our bones nor marrow-
No where to build that: 'Proverbial Fire'
Hypothermia 'tis quick to always set in...
Longing for the gentle heat of Summers Inspire;
Long gone 'tis my Muse of warmer circumstance...
Of back when my days were filled with sunshine-
Yes, back in the day-when Summer -was the only way-
Back then-when you and the world were mine;
Today, i am chilled to the very bone and the marrow...
In silent repose, i now simply wait--
For the thaw of Winter to melt into Spring...
I await, the questionable degrees of my fate!
By, Theodora Onken
December,2011
poem by Theodora Onken
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I Remember The Sun
Hot as golden sand in fields
We whiled away the hours
Im thinking of the days we had
Enormous super powers
Yes Im sleeping, my minds on the blink
I thought a page, like its written in ink
When I remember distant days
I remember many things, but
Most of all, I remember the sun
Squinting at the sun through eyes
Screwed up by a fireball
Tarmac on the road is soft
Chaff burns in a smokewall
Yes, I weeping, a teardrop attack
I give emotion at the drop of a hat
When I remember days at school
I remember many things, but
Most of all, I remember the sun
Sun that worked on overtime
Fuelled our bodies, kindled fire in our minds
Burning scars soon disappear
Like heat that hangs like water on the road
But most of all, I remember the sun.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Butterflies
Beautiful and colourful
Ambassadors of Heaven,
Visit the garden to pour
Heavenly beauty into it,
The flowers wait for the juicy kiss,
And put their saliva into their mouth,
Their union pleases the whole garden,
And it wears a divine look.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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Nothing else belongs to you except the passing pulse of time
Nothing else
Belongs to you
Except the pulse
Of each passing second
You cannot hold on to it
Nor can store it
It is just fleeing
But you can recall each moment
When you have something
At that time to rejoice
So never waste a second
In an unpalatable manner
As time is like the
Food that just entered
Your mouth
You bite, chew
And get the feel of its taste
in a wonderful mix
Of saliva and
Digestive juices
Once you swallow
The food is no longer there
You cannot and
In fact, do not like to
Get back the swallowed food
So too, time once passes
Has passed for ever
You cannot get back
Even the previous second
Just trickled
So, as you enjoy food
When it is in your mouth
Enjoy time
Assimilating energy
And nutrient from
Each bit of happenings around
Instead of losing it
Without any gainful use
To you and
Others nearby
Remember, the most precious
Possession you have
Is your time
With each second slipping
Become wiser
More learned
Enhance your knowledge base
Ensure happiness
To you and to yours
Let you not regret
Having wrongly spent a second
As, such a regret simply amounts to
Your having swallowed
An unpalatable
Tasteless food item of
No nutritive value
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Ch 05 On Love And Youth Story 12
One of the ullemma had been asked that, supposing one sits with a moon-faced beauty in a private apartment, the doors being closed, companions asleep, passion inflamed, and lust raging, as the Arab says, the date is ripe and its guardian not forbidding, whether he thought the power of abstinence would cause the man to remain in safety. He replied: ‘If he remains in safety from the moon-faced one, he will not remain safe from evil speakers.’
If a man escapes from his own bad lust
He will not escape from the bad suspicions of accusers.
It is proper to sit down to one’s own work
But it is impossible to bind the tongues of men.
Open House
Please
Come over to 81st street Im in the apartment
Above the bar
You know you cant miss it, its across from the subway
And the tacky store with the mylar scarves
My skins as pale as outdoors moon
My hairs silver like a tiffany watch
I like lots of people around me but dont kiss hello
And please dont touch
Its a czechoslovakian custom my mother passed on to me
The way to make friends andy is invite them up for tea
Open house
Open house
Ive got a lot of cats, heres my favorite
Shes lady called sam
I made a paper doll of her, you can have it
Thats what I did when I had st.vitus dance
Its a czechoslovakian custom my mother passed on to me
Give people little presents so they remember me
Open house
Open house
Someone bring the vegetables
Someone please bring heat
My mother showed up yesterday
We need something to eat
I think I got a job today they want me to draw shoes
The ones I drew were old and used
They told me to draw something new
Open house
Open house
Fly me to the moon
Fly me to a star
But there are no stars in the new york sky
Theyre all on the ground
You scared yourself with music, I scared myself with paint
I drew 550 different shoes today, it almost made me faint
Open house
Open house
Open house
Open house
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Camel
I am like a camel wandering in a harsh and unforgiving desert. The heat manipulates my eyesight. The dunes warp and twirl subtly in front of me. I wonder to myself if whether or not the world has dried up, for I haven't seen water in miles and miles. My tongue lies in my mouth, shriveling like a prune, pitted and lightly bathed in crisped saliva. My spit is thick, coating my gums and teeth as if it were a translucent tar. I am thirsty, walking aimlessly—searching for some sort of lost oasis which may or may not exist. There must be a fresh pool standing alone somewhere; I dream of it in my parched thoughts. My skin burns—golden brown and tanning, cracking similar to the dusty, torrid dirt under my feet. The sun beats down hard on the barren land. I long for softer soil, to feel my toes dig into the porous ground. I wish for an all-encompassing shade to swallow the desiccating heat and the dehydrated swat droplets lining my brow. Where are you my palm tree? Can't you save me from my muscles turning to sand that slips from the sides of my bones? I wander in the harsh and unforgiving desert with only the water I've stored in my body. One day, it will be gone and I may still be looking for you, my lost and beautiful oasis.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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My Memories of Then
I remember moments far back in the deepness of my mind
Of past times, of you and me and a life that has been
I remember thoughts I use to have all throughout the night
When my world was about you, one that I have always knew
I remember knowing how you were the part that made me whole
The wings on my back now unusable, that let me flew
I remember then, why I no longer wanted the world's gold
Because I had you, making me feel like I'm important
I remember the days passing so quickly, now lost forever
That defined my youth, and the man that was forming
I remember those words always said and never stuttered
About the love we shared, the duality intertwining
I remember the clouds, the weather that was above us
The cold days in warmth, on a big bed we were lying
I remember the end, the memories now covered with dust
But everything I know about you is still perfectly fine
I still remember your face, and all that we've said and seen
How it came to be, and how it came to pass is all in my mind
poem by Piscine Kipling
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A Walk Down My Memory Lane
Remember...
The day we wed.
Remember...
How we snuggled in bed.
Remember...
Walking in the oceans' sand,
Remember...
I'm in a hostile land.
Remember...
The ring, you're first surprise.
Remember...
My happy, green eyes.
Remember...
How I used to smile.
Remember...
Its been a long trial.
Remember...
My devotion.
Remember...
All my emotion.
Remember...
Christmas and Thanksgiving.
Remember...
To be open and giving.
Remember...
Our old birch tree.
Remember...
Remember me!
Remember...
The hot tub bath.
Remember...
Walking on the forest path..
Remember...
Your wedding gown.
Remember...
The love we found.
Remember...
When the war has passed.
Remember...
Our love will forever last.
poem by Philip Lore
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Only Seven Days
California's Sunset,
All i ask from you is only seven days;
And my lover will be with me!
Share the heat and let me see my way through,
For your beauty is like the beauty of my lover;
And all i ask from you is only seven days.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Prophecy Of The Children
it matters not
if I be youth
or if I be age
God hath said
all my children
will be beautiful
as God has said
so will it be
God cannot lie
Beautiful in God’s eyes
beautiful as God sees
as God beauty conceives
not beauty as impurity man sees
not in eyes of corporate man
not beauty as mammon man sees
and thus it came to pass
behold children born
beauty latent within heart
beauty destined to bequeath
beauty to enlighten
beauty passed on to God’s
future
faithful
children
Blessed Servants Be
Serve God Through Eternity
Oppose Evil In Perpetuity
poem by Terence George Craddock
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