Ultimate Beauty
When she swayed in sashay
Swans shied in dismay
At a beam of her splendid smile
The full moon waned in shame
When she walked in woods
Greens paled in acquiescence
Bloomers withered in whispering obeisance
Who else can she be?
But the ultimate beauty!
I dreamed and pined all my prime
One beckon from her in love is all!
Heavens are mine
All else will drain! !
Sathya…..
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Whispered Words
From our porch
By the beach
We watch
Our emerald-anniversary sun
slowly
e
b
b
at the divide of sea and sky
Your shaking hand
Tightens on mine
I look into your eyes
You smile
I understand
At the peak
Of our years I said
Your serene beauty
Flutters gracefully
Waking up my ecstasy
You are sky to me
You replied
You excite me
With waves of joy,
Fulfill my widest fantasy
You are my sea
Now
As twilight unveils
Our emeral moon
You kiss my cheek softly
You whisper
'Forever'
I nod
You smile
We understand
Soon
Our gasps
Will end
Yet our love
Shall remain
As bright as the sun
As full as the moon
And our kiss
Shall fill the heavens
With s t a r s
poem by Fidel Arcenas
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Oh My Splendour
You bring me back,
oh my young splendor,
the springs I lost
And echo in my ears
the sweet melodies
of cuckoos I heard last
In my dream garden
new leaves sprout,
Exotic hues blossom
On a floral ramp of roses,
jasmines and chrysanthemums
I see you walking with a beam
clad in a white silk sari
That is flying and fluttering
in air carelessly
With all airs about
caressing your silkier skin
When you sashay towards me,
like Vana Devatha
Like Sakuntala,
on my knees I genuflect with awe;
My eyes eying your secrets,
my lips vying brazenly
With the buzzing honey bees
for your scents heavenly;
My both hands stretched
and palms full with flowers
I bow to your beauty
and with all my senses stammering
I utter, “Hi Sweetie, here is my tender offering! ! ! ”
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Portrait
PORTRAIT
A lurid looking impasto indeed
With grisly colors dappled all over
Like puddles of cuddled blood
Daubs of violent reds! Gloomy black patches!
Erotic blues and skinflint browns!
Resigned auspicious yellows,
Ashen virtuous whites and
Paled prosperous greens
He is often slipping his palette
Dripping the hues and tripping the easel
His lines running in zigzag jumble
Drawing He, with his quivering quill
The frazzled veteran Artist of unknown origin
“Your mighty hand must be aging! Oh my Master!
Muster your energies to depict on Earth
Your best ever portrait to reinvigorate
Your original beautiful oeuvre in whole for ever”
Sathya…….
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Smiling Moon
I wandered lonely as the cloud
That floats in the sky, as usual
There found something amazing
Is that the smiling moon
To my wonder, it is the smiling moon
Smiling with two brightest stars
In the dark sky like an angel
Showering the hope through smile
Along with Venus and Jupiter
Slowly smiles my lips with joy.
With dreams of the smile
Walked in the evening, the next day
To see the smiling fairy and found
The heavens from above smiling upon us.
Smile, smile, smile like a smiling moon to
Shower joy to the self and to the world.
poem by Archana Prabahar
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Nocturne III
One night
one night all full of murmurings, of perfumes and music of wings;
one night
in which fantastic fireflies burnt in the humid nuptial shadows,
slowly by my side, pressed altogether close, silent and pale,
as if a presentiment of infinite bitternesses
agitated you unto the most hidden fibers of your being,
along the flowering path which crosses the plain
you walked;
and the full moon
in the infinite and profound blue heavens scattered its white light;
and your shadow,
fine and languid,
and my shadow
projected by the rays of the moon,
upon the sorrowful sands
of the path, joined together;
and they became one,
and they became one,
and they became only one long shadow,
and they became only one long shadow,
and they became only one long shadow....
Tonight
alone; my soul
full of the infinite bitternesses and agonies of your death,
separated from you by time, by the tomb and by distance,
by the infinite blackness
where our voice cannot reach,
silent and alone
along the path I walked ...
And the barking of dogs at the moon could be heard,
at the pale moon,
and the chirping
of the frogs ...
I felt cold. It was the coldness that in your alcove
your cheeks and your temples and your adoréd hands possessed
within the snowy whiteness
of the mortuary sheets.
It was the coldness of the sepulcher, it was the ice of death,
it was the coldness of oblivion.
And my shadow,
projected by the rays of the moon,
walked alone,
walked alone,
walked alone along the solitary plain;
and your shadow, svelte and agile,
fine and languid,
as in that warm night of springtime death,
as in that night full of murmurings, of perfumes and music of wings,
approached and walked with mine,
approached and walked with mine,
approached and walked with mine ... Oh, the shadows intertwined!
Oh, the corporeal shadows united with the shadows of the souls!
Oh, the seeking shadows in those nights of sorrows and of tears!
poem by Jose Asuncion Silva
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Nostalgia
What’re you doing O’ my friend
at those chilling shores of Ganga?
Gathering today, morrow’s nostalgia?
Let me share those moments;
taste your ecstasies.
On that future day when you fall into oblivion
let me recall those lost flashes and waned out scents
and earn for you, your own stolen heavens.
poem by Sathya Narayana
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The Withering Of The Boughs
I CRIED when the moon was mutmuring to the birds:
'Let peewit call and curlew cry where they will,
I long for your merry and tender and pitiful words,
For the roads are unending, and there is no place to my mind.'
The honey-pale moon lay low on the sleepy hill,
And I fell asleep upon lonely Echtge of streams.
No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind;
The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams.
I know of the leafy paths that the witches take
Who come with their crowns of pearl and their spindles of wool,
And their secret smile, out of the depths of the lake;
I know where a dim moon drifts, where the Danaan kind
Wind and unwind their dances when the light grows cool
On the island lawns, their feet where the pale foam gleams.
No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind;
The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams.
I know of the sleepy country, where swans fly round
Coupled with golden chains, and sing as they fly.
A king and a queen are wandering there, and the sound
Has made them so happy and hopeless, so deaf and so blind
With wisdom, they wander till all the years have gone by;
I know, and the curlew and peewit on Echtge of streams.
No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind;
The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Dreaming of That Day
I've dreamed of the day we meet,
I've dreamed of the look in your eyes,
I've dreamed of your smile,
I've dreamed of holding you under the moon lit sky.
The feel of your hand,
Your scent in the air,
The sparkle in your eyes,
The moon glistning in your hair.
My greatest imaginations,
Couldn't compare to the heart i'll soon meet,
Im dreaming of that day,
To embrace this lady so sweet.
poem by Richard Goolsby
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The Moon and Sea
Whilst the moon decks herself in Neptune's glass
And ponders over her image in the sea,
Her cloudy locks smoothing from off her face
That she may all as bright as beauty be;
It is my wont to sit upon the shore
And mark with what an even grace she glides
Her two concurrent paths of azure o'er,
One in the heavens, the other in the tides:
Now with a transient veil her face she hides
And ocean blackens with a human frown;
Now her fine screen of vapour she divides
And looks with all her light of beauty down;
Her splendid smile over-silvering the main
Spreads her the glass she looks into again.
poem by George Darley
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O Beauty of Night...
As the golden sun goes to rest,
And the sky drape into black blanket,
Now take your turn
O beauty of Night – Moon.
Variety of moods makes me wonder,
Sometimes you look like circular disc,
At times spongy ball of cotton
O beauty of Night – Moon.
Eyes long to catch the glimpse,
Hands reach to hold you,
Lips hum song for you,
O beauty of Night – Moon.
Play not hide & seek,
Cover not behind the dark cloud
Unveil your beauty for me to gaze
O beauty of Night – Moon.
Cool gentle breeze blowing in silent night
Urge my heart to
Bathe in the white beam
O beauty of Night - Moon.
Reflection of my love I see in you
Fall down from the starry sky
To hold you in my arms
O beauty of Night – Moon.
poem by Geeta Nair
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Black Moon
Oh the devil is rising with the moon
He cries and my blood runs cold.
Oh no never was the darkness so black,
No light and nowhere to go.
My spirit is crying for a love
So tired of being alone.
I remember he came here to steal,
And you are his stealer of souls.
I see a black moon rising,
And its calling out my name.
Oh its calling my name.
Ive been blinded, lost and confused,
Darkness will call me no more.
Heaven is no friend of mine,
No God ever knocked on my door.
I see a black moon rising,
And its calling out my name.
Oh its calling my name.
Im standing on the dark side of time
Reaching for the power of her hand.
Shes weaving an unholy light
And calls from lucifers land.
I see a black moon rising,
And its calling out my name.
An angel of hell is rising,
Heavens no friend of mine.
I see a black moon rising,
And its calling out my name,
I see a black moon rising,
And it causes so much pain.
An angel of hell is rising,
Heavens no friend of mine.
I see a black moon rising,
And its calling out my name.
Its calling my name,
This spirits crying for love.
Heavens no friend of mine.
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I Think Of My Love
When I see at starts, I think,
When I see at roses, I think,
When I feel cold breeze, I think,
When I see streams flowing, I think,
When I imagine the depth of oceans, I think,
When I gaze at moon, I think,
When I see beatuiful sights, I think,
I think of my love that these things are very beautiful
yet my love is still better than these all and these things
didn't even started to describe the beauty of my love.
My love is Brighter than the starts, I smile,
My love is Sweeter than the roses, I smile,
My love is Cooler than the breezes, I smile,
My love is Quicker than the streams, I smile,
My love is Deeper than oceans, I smile,
My love is Shiner than the moon, I smile,
My love is more Beautiful than every beautiful sight, I smile,
I smile and walk away thinking that I have the
Queen of beauty to ever last my happiness...
So I fall more in love with you.
poem by Legendary Gamer
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I dream of
I dreamed of beauty, neither of mountains nor of a setting sun on a summer day.
I dreamed of beauty, neither of running streams nor of a garden of flowers in early may.
I dreamed of beauty, neither of autumn in the fall nor of beautiful winter snow when it falls.
I dreamed of you my beauty, for when I see you my knees grow weak and I shall fall.
6-1-02
poem by Timothy Honeycutt
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A Ballad Of The Trees And The Master
Into the woods my Master went,
Clean forspent, forspent.
Into the woods my Master came,
Forspent with love and shame.
But the olives they were not blind to Him,
The little gray leaves were kind to Him:
The thorn-tree had a mind to Him
When into the woods He came.
Out of the woods my Master went,
And He was well content.
Out of the woods my Master came,
Content with death and shame.
When Death and Shame would woo Him last,
From under the trees they drew Him last:
'Twas on a tree they slew Him -- last
When out of the woods He came.
poem by Sidney Lanier
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Ladylove
There once was a lady by the name of Ladylove,
who was said to be a saint sent from above.
But no one knew just who she was;
a ghost indeed was she, was she.
She approached a swain one day, one sorrowful day;
stealing his heart as she ran away.
She left with a flutter in a moonlit still,
her beauty graces her for a splendid time.
She haste to a pond of midnight glow,
a lad soon followed as he watched her go.
She looked in his eyes with sadness there,
looking away as she's engulfed in light.
She step a foot in glistening water still,
meandering a swan not by will.
The boy he haste to grasp her hand,
letting his love guide as they shift to swans;
he a swan of black and she white,
they soar now into the ever moonlight.
The story now told of a love everlasting,
of two young swans, on moonlit casting.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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Full moon or no moon
Sheraton shines; slums below
Always in darkness
haiku by Sathya Narayana
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If beauty was the rain
If beauty was the rain
I would close my eyes and drain
And listen to its reframe
That drips from the roof
If beauty was the sun
Then roast me till I’m done
And the growth that I has won
Lies open petal to the morn that break
Its calm to what may come.
If beauty was the moon
I would sing it a tune of full bloom
That pin point the dark sky
If beauty was a tree
Then cover me in leaves
Fall from my eyes in riot colors
Painted by what bark that shed
Its growth
poem by David E. Patton
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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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My Love For You (Alexandrine Poetry)
Your love for me a little more than nothing means,
When love as sense of self may be, than mine, less strong,
When thrill of love may keep the pain on withered greens
And night of dreams is like a teared and jerking song.
Your silence dances meaning’s words on face’s frown,
My eye of winter follows stream of light on sky,
Meandrous flow of painful words by stripping down
Their sense of meaning sounding like a sad ‘’good bye’’.
With red unfolded kisses thrilling white delight,
The moon replaces missing sun with all around.
It makes me dance my will in dreams’ abstract on height.
It makes me feel the love again and heals my wound.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Charles Webster
The pine woods on the hill,
And the farmhouse miles away,
Showed clear as though behind a lens
Under a sky of peacock blue!
But a blanket of cloud by afternoon
Muffled the earth. And you walked the road
And the clover field, where the only sound
Was the cricket's liquid tremolo.
Then the sun went down between great drifts
Of distant storms. For a rising wind
Swept clean the sky and blew the flames
Of the unprotected stars;
And swayed the russet moon,
Hanging between the rim of the hill
And the twinkling boughs of the apple orchard.
You walked the shore in thought
Where the throats of the waves were like whippoorwills
Singing beneath the water and crying
To the wash of the wind in the cedar trees,
Till you stood, too full for tears, by the cot,
And looking up saw Jupiter,
Tipping the spire of the giant pine,
And looking down saw my vacant chair,
Rocked by the wind on the lonely porch --
Be brave, Beloved!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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