Sonnet VII: O Had She Not Been Fair
O had she not been fair and thus unkind,
Then had no finger pointed at my lightness;
The world had never known what I do find,
And clouds obscure had shaded still her brightness.
Then had no censor's eye these lines survey'd,
Nor graver brows have judg'd my Muse so vain;
No sun my blush and error had bewray'd,
Nor yet the world had heard of such disdain.
Then had I walk'd with bold erected face;
No downcast look had signified my miss;
But my degraded hopes, with such disgrace
Did force me groan out griefs and utter this.
For, being full, should not I then have spoken,
My sense oppress'd had fail'd, and heart had broken.
poem by Samuel Daniel
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Sonnet 57: Woe, Having Made With Many Fights
Woe, having made with many fights his own
Each sense of mine; each gift, each power of mind
Grown now his slaves, he forc'd them out to find
The thoroughest words, fit for Woe's self to groan,
Hoping that when they might find Stella alone,
Before she could prepare to be unkind,
Her soul, arm'd but with such a dainty rind,
Should soon be pierc'd with sharpness of the moan.
She heard my plaints, and did not only hear,
But them (so sweet is she) most sweetly sing,
With that fair breast making woe's darkness clear:
A pretty case! I hoped her to bring
To feel my griefs, and she with face and voice
So sweets my pains, that my pains me rejoice.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Sonnet V: Whilst Youth and Error
Whilst youth and error led my wand'ring mind
And set my thoughts in heedless ways to range,
All unawares a goddes chaste I find,
Diana-like, to work my sudden change.
For her no sooner had my view bewray'd,
But with disdain to see me in that place;
With fairest hand, the sweet unkindest maid
Casts water-cold disdain upon my face.
Which turn'd my sport into a hart's despair,
Which still is chas'd, whilst I have any breath,
By mine own thoughts; set on me by my fair,
My thoughts like hounds, pursue me to my death.
Those that I foster'd of mine own accord,
Are made by her to murder thus their lord.
poem by Samuel Daniel
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Sonnet VI: Fair Is My Love
Fair is my love, and cruel as she's fair;
Her brow shades frowns, although her eyes are sunny;
Her smiles are lightning, though her pride despair;
And her disdains are gall, her favors honey.
A modest maid, deck'd with a blush of honor,
Whose feet do tread green paths of youth and love,
The wonder of all eyes that look upon her,
Sacred on earth, design'd a saint above.
Chastity and Beauty, which are deadly foes,
Live reconciled friends within her brow;
And had she pity to conjoin with those,
Then who had heard the plaints I utter now?
O had she not been fair and thus unkind,
My Muse had slept, and none had known my mind.
poem by Samuel Daniel
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Delia VI: Fair is my love, and cruel as she's fair
VI
Fair is my love, and cruel as she's fair:
Her brow shades frowns although her eyes are sunny,
Her smiles are lightning though her pride despair,
And her disdains are gall, her favours honey;
A modest maid, deck'd with a blush of honour,
Whose feet do tread green paths of youth and love,
The wonder of all eyes that look upon her:
Sacred on earth, design'd a saint above.
Chastity and beauty, which were deadly foes,
Live reconciled friends within her brow;
And had she pity to conjoin with those,
Then who had heard the plaints I utter now?
For had she not been fair and thus unkind,
My muse had slept, and none had known my mind.
poem by Samuel Daniel
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Why to censor
The world is one.
One can go anywhere
as per sweetwill.
Why to censor?
It is the right of
everybody to express
views and news.
Why to censor?
One can eat drink
walk sleep as per
his conveniences
Why to censor?
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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An Occasional Prologue, Delivered Previous To The Performance Of 'The Wheel Of Fortune' At A Private Theatre
Since the refinement of this polish'd age
Has swept irnmortal raillery from the stage;
Since taste has now expunged licentious wit,
Which stamp'd disgrace on all an author writ;
Since now to please with purer scenes we seek,
Nor dare to call the blush from Beauty's cheek;
Oh! let the modest Muse some pity claim,
And meet indulgence, though she find not fame.
Still, not for her alone we wish respect,
Others appear more conscious of defect;
To-night no veteran Roscii you behold,
In all the arts of scenic action old;
No Cooke, no Kemble, can salute you here,
No Siddons draw the sympathetic tear;
To-night you throng to witness the début
Of embryo actors, to the Drama new:
Here, then, our almost unfledged wings we try;
Clip not our pinions ere the birds can fly:
Failing in this our first attempt to soar,
Drooping, alas! we fall to rise no more.
Not one poor trembler only fear betrays
Who hopes, yet almost dreads, to meet your praise,
But all our dramatis personæ wait
In fond suspense this crisis of their fate.
No venal views our prosress can retard,
Your generous plaudits are our sole reward.
For these, each Hero all his power displays,
Each timid Heroine shrinks before your gaze.
Surely the last will some protection find;
None to the softer sex can prove unkind
While Youth and Beauty form the female shield,
The sternest censor to the fair must yield.
Yet, should our feeble efforts nought avail,
Should, after all, our best endeavours fail,
Still let some mercy in your bosoms live,
And, if you can't applaud, at le'st forgive.
Delete Every Line
His poor heart is broken
a soul in distress,
sad words ever spoken
there's no happiness.
He is lonely, so lonely
and pines for her only
for her tender caress.
She hears his voice calling
at the end of the day
teardrops keep falling
her world in disarray.
She is lonely, so lonely
and yearns for him only
but she's travelling his way.
Two hearts were broken
but the sun soon will shine
unkind words that were spoken
'delet every line'.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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The End
Matadors, monkeys, a million balloons
As we walk through the sea to the sand
Knowing full well that we're perfectly tuned
As we skip through our hearts hand in hand
Will Jenny be older
Will music be heard
Will we all meet again
At the end of the world
No sense in fooling, we're covered in dreams
Having too much fun flying to land
Floating waist high in ten colours of green
We're so small but we feel oh so grand
Will Jenny be older
Will music be heard
Will we all meet again
At the end of the world
End of the world
Will Jenny be older
Will music be heard
Will we all meet again
At the end of the world
The end of the world
On tuesday
The end of the world
Pop goes the world
The end of the world
In the name of angels
Pop goes the world
On Tuesday
The end of the world
The real world
song performed by by Men Without Hats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Icarus, Robert Jones's Second Book of Songs and Airs
LOVE wing'd my Hopes and taught me how to fly
Far from base earth, but not to mount too high:
For true pleasure
Lives in measure,
Which if men forsake,
Blinded they into folly run and grief for pleasure take.
But my vain Hopes, proud of their new-taught flight,
Enamour'd sought to woo the sun's fair light,
Whose rich brightness
Moved their lightness
To aspire so high
That all scorch'd and consumed with fire now drown'd in woe they lie.
And none but Love their woeful hap did rue,
For Love did know that their desires were true;
Though fate frowned,
And now drowned
They in sorrow dwell,
It was the purest light of heav'n for whose fair love they fell.
An Ode, On Reading Mr. Richardson's History Of Sir Charles Grandison
Say, ye apostate and profane,
Wretches, who blush not to disdain
Allegiance to your God,--
Did e'er your idly wasted love
Of virtue for her sake remove
And lift you from the crowd?
Would you the race of glory run,
Know, the devout, and they alone,
Are equal to the task:
The labours of the illustrious course
Far other than the unaided force
Of human vigour ask,
To arm against reputed ill
The patient heart too brave to feel
The tortures of despair:
Nor safer yet high-crested pride,
When wealth flows in with every tide
To gain admittance there.
To rescue from the tyrant’s sword
The oppress'd; unseen and unimplored,
To cheer the face of woe;
From lawless insult to defend
An orphan's right—a fallen friend,
And a forgiven foe;
These, these distinguish from the crowd,
And these alone, the great and good,
The guardians of mankind;
Whose bosoms with these virtues heave,
O with what matchless speed they leave
The multitude behind!
Then ask ye, from what cause on earth
Virtues like these derive their birth?
Derived from Heaven alone,
Full on that favour’d breast they shine,
Where faith and resignation join
To call the blessing down.
Such is that heart:--but while the muse
Thy theme, O Richardson, pursues,
Her feeble spirits faint;
She cannot reach, and would not wrong,
The subject for an angel’s song,
The hero, and the saint!
poem by William Cowper
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Sonnet 47: What, Have I thus Betray'd
What, have I thus betray'd my liberty?
Can those black beams such burning marks engrave In my free side? or am I born a slave,
Whose neck becomes such yoke of tyranny?
Or want I sense to feel my misery?
Or sprite, disdain of such disdain to have,
Who for long faith, though daily help I crave,
May get no alms but scorn of beggery?
Virtue awake, beauty but beauty is;
I may, I must, I can, I will, I do
Leave following that, which it is gain to miss.
Let her go! Soft, but here she comes. Go to,
Unkind, I love you not. Oh me, that eye
Doth make my heart give to my tongue the lie.
poem by Philip Sidney
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You Don't Really Miss Me
When you miss me,
just look up the sky
and you will find me
among the clouds...
if you fail to find me
that's because
you don't really miss me.
When you miss me
I know you will come
no matter how far we are...
if you fail to come
that's because
you don't really miss me.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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One Thing That I Miss
one thing that i miss
is not found in you,
it is something, yet it is
illusive, like a an eclipse
in seconds
i dim the world
only to disappear and give
you back
your own light
but you will miss what i miss
and i come back only
once every thousand years
of your life
sort of
you do not find me and i do not
really find you
we meet and we miss again
like parallel lines
always going seeing and talking
and in the silence of it all
always unflinching
two lines that never
meet
this is the price that we pay
for our
sacred hypocrisy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My face glows
12/08/2010
I feel the brightness on my face
I'm glowing like a diamond
The joy in my heart is finally been let free
now I can call you mine
I've been waiting for this day
The day you'd say to me “Hello Miss, how are you? ”
My heart couldn't believe you were talking to me
The man I love is finally in my life
My spirit rises with joy
My soul sings the melody
My heartbeat drums with the rhythm to the song
I feel it on the sides of my moving thighs as I walk
My honorable aura arouses many souls as I pass.
You can't miss it
I walk into a room my scent flows with the wind
leaving behind me a refreshing scent of a humble soul
leaving a questionable but unforgettable breeze
My smell is like a rainy forest
My presents is like a rainbow
I lit the room with beauty
My heart is happy and it is flowing to the outside
I'm in love and I'm unable to keep it in the inside
I'm full of joy and I'm unable to keep it silent
I feel the brightness in me
My face is glowing
My cup of love is over flowing with joy
Signed: Empress Ela Spirit
poem by Zanele Mavuso
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Beauty, Time, and Love
I
FAIR is my Love and cruel as she 's fair;
Her brow-shades frown, although her eyes are sunny.
Her smiles are lightning, though her pride despair,
And her disdains are gall, her favours honey:
A modest maid, deck'd with a blush of honour,
Whose feet do tread green paths of youth and love;
The wonder of all eyes that look upon her,
Sacred on earth, design'd a Saint above.
Chastity and Beauty, which were deadly foes,
Live reconciled friends within her brow;
And had she Pity to conjoin with those,
Then who had heard the plaints I utter now?
For had she not been fair, and thus unkind,
My Muse had slept, and none had known my mind.
II
My spotless love hovers with purest wings,
About the temple of the proudest frame,
Where blaze those lights, fairest of earthly things,
Which clear our clouded world with brightest flame.
My ambitious thoughts, confined in her face,
Affect no honour but what she can give;
My hopes do rest in limits of her grace;
I weigh no comfort unless she relieve.
For she, that can my heart imparadise,
Holds in her fairest hand what dearest is;
My Fortune's wheel 's the circle of her eyes,
Whose rolling grace deign once a turn of bliss.
All my life's sweet consists in her alone;
So much I love the most Unloving one.
III
And yet I cannot reprehend the flight
Or blame th' attempt presuming so to soar;
The mounting venture for a high delight
Did make the honour of the fall the more.
For who gets wealth, that puts not from the shore?
Danger hath honour, great designs their fame;
Glory doth follow, courage goes before;
And though th' event oft answers not the same--
Suffice that high attempts have never shame.
The mean observer, whom base safety keeps,
Lives without honour, dies without a name,
And in eternal darkness ever sleeps.--
And therefore, Delia, 'tis to me no blot
To have attempted, tho' attain'd thee not.
IV
When men shall find thy flow'r, thy glory, pass,
And thou with careful brow, sitting alone,
Received hast this message from thy glass,
That tells the truth and says that All is gone;
Fresh shalt thou see in me the wounds thou mad'st,
Though spent thy flame, in me the heat remaining:
I that have loved thee thus before thou fad'st--
My faith shall wax, when thou art in thy waning.
The world shall find this miracle in me,
That fire can burn when all the matter 's spent:
Then what my faith hath been thyself shalt see,
And that thou wast unkind thou may'st repent.--
Thou may'st repent that thou hast scorn'd my tears,
When Winter snows upon thy sable hairs.
V
Beauty, sweet Love, is like the morning dew,
Whose short refresh upon the tender green
Cheers for a time, but till the sun doth show,
And straight 'tis gone as it had never been.
Soon doth it fade that makes the fairest flourish,
Short is the glory of the blushing rose;
The hue which thou so carefully dost nourish,
Yet which at length thou must be forced to lose.
When thou, surcharged with burthen of thy years,
Shalt bend thy wrinkles homeward to the earth;
And that, in Beauty's Lease expired, appears
The Date of Age, the Calends of our Death--
But ah, no more!--this must not be foretold,
For women grieve to think they must be old.
VI
I must not grieve my Love, whose eyes would read
Lines of delight, whereon her youth might smile;
Flowers have time before they come to seed,
And she is young, and now must sport the while.
And sport, Sweet Maid, in season of these years,
And learn to gather flowers before they wither;
And where the sweetest blossom first appears,
Let Love and Youth conduct thy pleasures thither.
Lighten forth smiles to clear the clouded air,
And calm the tempest which my sighs do raise;
Pity and smiles do best become the fair;
Pity and smiles must only yield thee praise.
Make me to say when all my griefs are gone,
Happy the heart that sighed for such a one!
VII
Let others sing of Knights and Paladines
In aged accents and untimely words,
Paint shadows in imaginary lines,
Which well the reach of their high wit records:
But I must sing of thee, and those fair eyes
Authentic shall my verse in time to come;
When yet th' unborn shall say, Lo, where she lies!
Whose beauty made him speak, that else was dumb!
These are the arcs, the trophies I erect,
That fortify thy name against old age;
And these thy sacred virtues must protect
Against the Dark, and Time's consuming rage.
Though th' error of my youth in them appear,
Suffice, they show I lived, and loved thee dear.
poem by Samuel Daniel
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Daydreamer
I am a daydreamer
escaping from the real world
and into my very own.
In my world there is no black clouds
to sadden anyone’s face
only sunshine and a world full of smiles
that radiate out from everyone.
No harsh words are spoken
only kind and loving ones.
Everyone is a brother or a sister
in this daydream world of mine.
There are no wars,
no mother’s son is sacrificed
to die on a battlefield.
Love fills the air with music
and warmth for everyone,
so come along with me
and let us retreat
into that daydream world of mine.
22 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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Making sense
No sense in it if you act non-sense
People may push you away with sense
You may think why people are utterly non-sense?
When you are perfectly ok and act wit sense
You may fail in your love attempts
Some thing may force you or to act prompt
Still you act with sense and avoid
You may face difficulties which are self maid
You may act wise with change of scene
Gentleman like approach when publicly seen
Is it not the humanly act minus sin?
When one tries to project what he has been?
What comes to your help or rescue?
You may be wondering without any clue
You may blink and face may turn blue
When projection makes no sense for you
Sense is third eye for human being
Timely act may make him king
Opponent may face defeat in the ring
You may survive……………..
What, if nothing suggests or paves the way?
Your voice may not be heard or have the say
You may stick to position and bat for long
Still it makes sense that you are not always wrong
You will know what lies ahead?
Common sense may stop you to be mislead
So even if you are worried or so tense
You may act wise and come out with sense
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A turning gold
I fear of being called old
but in fact turning Gold
astute behavior and approach bold
head of the family and very nice hold
Calmness like sea and brightness like sun
family members would love and make fun
my try to win the race with stick walk run
children may point with small barrel gun
'Grandpa, your time is over'
we will give you cover
your inning should not last
as you are aging very fast
Don't leave us behind
where from we will find?
you are our dad's dad and very kind
we touch your feet as you are soft and mild
It turns me old when somethig I hear
“One time handsome may not remain dear”
He is loosing charm and wrinkles developed
Great show on stage is likedly to be floaped
I feel delighted when hear nice words
There is no fun to think of age and look backward
Any one may go for high jump when fully young
Alas! it is beautiful inning but not going to last long
Who can stop the blowing wind?
Who can clip the bird’s wing?
You may go high in the air
The game is considered to be very fair
It is the test of time that you spread the fragrance
The ability and young age is thing of presence
It may stay as long as you think it is in your reach
The birds may come down to find and search
Where do we find peace and shelter?
Where is our final destginy and cover?
Who will accompany us till the end?
The world has to be made as lovely abode and friend
The sun may shine hard and rain may cause the blow
The vigor and strength may develop cracks and go slow
The speed may slower and ri ver may stop the flow
The eys may loose the sight and face its glow
The wrinkles are sign of wisdom
It truly reflects but speaks seldom
Who knows better what can be spoken off?
World may not realize when to cry and laugh
The river water have calmed down and flow silently
The words too are spoken very nicely and gently
You represent serious figure and act as saintly
The advice too comes easily and instantly
One must, in times to come, must grow old
So many may be following you and come in fold
It is not wrinkles but lines on face
That may speak of marathon race
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Like infant
I am no more like infant now
I have learnt to tackle how
With all the sense in order
With all that accuracy and nothing on border
It was time when I sue to walk with parent’s help
Catch the finger and pass the road with little steps
It was unique experience to have carefree situation
I loved it and sincerely wished for its continuation
I had seen lots of worry lines on parent’s face
They were able to hide it in any case
Yet I could observe the helplessness
It was bad and very critical phase
I was brought up like hard liner
I knew time would change sooner
It was just a passing time with no exception
As every individual has same to face from inception
So in young age it did not prove hard
I looked in anticipation and positively forward
I had all the calculation in mind
As I knew world may look upon me very unkind
Some of funniest part is to settle in married life
You may not know the nature of would be wife
She may bring fortune with her or more troubles
You may find yourself in fix and most incapable
Since you are grown up child with lots of ups and down
The life would provide enough of opportunity to own
If both can handle the show well and take the course ahead
It will be fine example as it will provide strength to lead
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Walk Tall
The simple minded
And the uninformed
Can be easily led astray
And those that cannot connect the dots
Hey look the other way
People believe what they want to believe
When it makes no sense at all
And i wish you along the sideline
had the strength to walk tall
Walk tall
Yeah walk on
Through this world
Walk tall
Somewhere out in the distance
Is the death of you and me
Even though we dont think of it much
Its still out there for us to see
If you treat life like a bar room fight
Youll die stinking of gin
No drunkards are allowed in heaven
No sinners will get in
Walk tall
Yeah, walk on
Walk tall
Through this world
Walk tall
So be careful in what you believe in
Theres plenty to get you confused
And in this land called paradise
You must walk in many mens shoes
Bigotry and hatred are enemies to us all
Grace, mercy and forgiveness
Will help a man walk tall
So walk tall
Yeah, walk on
Walk tall
Through this world
Through this world
Yeah, walk tall
Then walk on
Walk tall
Then walk on
Through this world
Through this world
Through this world
Through this world
Walk tall
Walk tall
Then walk on
Walk tall
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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