Rubaiyat 15
Spend time with wine by a stream,
And let sorrows away stream.
My life, like a rose, is but few days;
Youthful and joyous live this dream.
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Under the River
CLEAR and bright, from the snowy height,
The joyous stream to the plain descended:
Rich sands of gold were washed and rolled
To the turbid marsh where its pure life ended.
From stainless snow to the moor below
The heart like the brook has a waning mission
The buried dream in life's sluggish stream
Is the golden sand of our young ambition.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Preservation
My maiden she proved false to me;
To hate all joys I soon began,
Then to a flowing stream I ran,--
The stream ran past me hastily.
There stood I fix'd, in mute despair;
My head swam round as in a dream;
I well-nigh fell into the stream,
And earth seem'd with me whirling there.
Sudden I heard a voice that cried--
I had just turn'd my face from thence--
It was a voice to charm each sense:
"Beware, for deep is yonder tide!"
A thrill my blood pervaded now,
I look'd and saw a beauteous maid
I asked her name--twas Kate, she said--
"Oh lovely Kate! how kind art thou!
"From death I have been sav'd by thee,
'Tis through thee only that I live;
Little 'twere life alone to give,
My joy in life then deign to be!"
And then I told my sorrows o'er,
Her eyes to earth she sweetly threw;
I kiss'd her, and she kiss'd me too,
And--then I talked of death no more.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Why Fades A Dream
WHY fades a dream?
An iridescent ray
Flecked in between the tryst
Of night and day.
Why fades a dream? —
Of consciousness the shade
Wrought out by lack of light and made
Upon life's stream.
Why fades a dream?
That thought may thrive,
So fades the fleshless dream;
Lest men should learn to trust
The things that seem.
So fades a dream,
That living thought may grow
And like a waxing star-beam glow
Upon life's stream —
So fades a dream.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Gently on the Stream of Time
Gently on the stream of time,
We are floating day by day,
In life's native boats sublime
We soon anchor in the bay.
We'll soon anchor in the haven,
Where the weary are at rest,
In that blissful port called Heaven,
Where are roaming now the blest.
CHORUS:
Be gentle, time be gentle with us,
While we are on life's troubled stream,
May life's foaming billows o'er us
Break away as day serene.
Gently on the stream of time,
We will swiftly glide along,
Till we reach the realm divine,
Then we'll join the heavenly throng,
Where our friends have gone before us
Waiting on the other shore.
In that home they sing in chorus,
"Welcome home the rich and poor."
Gently on the stream of time,
We shall shortly pass away,
We shall reach the heavenly clime
If God's commands we obey.
Gently on the stream of time
We are going one by one,
Listening to the evening chime
On life's journey going home.
poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To My Lover
Life without you is always tough
I can spend my whole life with you
But I can never get enough
You affect whatever I do
When I'm crying in sadness you make me laugh.
A week seems to be a night
And a year just flows like a stream
Every time I'm with you, time goes before I hold you tight
When you go away I just wish to make it a dream
So that when I wake up you should be in my sight.
poem by Walani Ndhlovu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Classical Thought
While the trees will give me the thoughts I need,
For the life of roses beneath the leaves,
There's a light for me and for everyone,
To repay the shadows of days and eves.
When the mind remembers the youth of life
And the countless seconds and hours and years,
There runs a stream from within our eyes-
Is a stream of ailing but shining tears.
The time of life begins and ends----
In an epic of thousands of pains and gains.
poem by Osama Waqar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Gallant maiden...Lets fish...
Lonely stream, where do you depart with your lover?
Lovely maiden, why do you walk on this lonely stream?
Lovely song brace with echoes...
I fish this stream my lovely maiden...
I can't fish...
Come, lets fish...
If you were this fish...
I will take care of you...
Come, i can't eat this fish...
We caught...
Where my gallant maiden, Where do you live?
You make me question this stream...
You make me guard our departed stream...
Come lets fish...
Lets, start over...
Before, this stream drys out...
Before, we can no longer fish again...
Oh, expire fish i treasure your bone for my lost lover...
I held you in my heart forever and ever...
Petals
Life is a stream
On which we strew
Petal by petal the flower of our heart;
The end lost in dream,
They float past our view,
We only watch their glad, early start.
Freighted with hope,
Crimsoned with joy,
We scatter the leaves of our opening rose;
Their widening scope,
Their distant employ,
We never shall know. And the stream as it flows
Sweeps them away,
Each one is gone
Ever beyond into infinite ways.
We alone stay
While years hurry on,
The flower fared forth, though its fragrance still stays.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Driff me off
yield with full of awesome memory,
languish in the option of time, of where I
settle my complete hope of surrender to
the wave of the sky, I command to lie
down my hand
put off the flower that floats and come
to the magic of the stream, the waiting is
gone as the captive dream cease no one
in the sun
pour out all the water spells, the drifted
echo, lives in the air, listen my blooming
dear your escape is only in dream, for
your sweet touch may be gone; as the
water goes through the stream and the
wind may come the same, the pain may
always live to win
go crystal water, as the drifted sky comes
to end and let the passing tears leaves in
the air.......
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Double Slit
Humor
humor and soup
and philosophy
and dreams of artificial splendor -
a thick, black turd
floating in the punchbowl
of life's
over inflated
expectations
a stream
a stream of thought
a stream of consciousness
does consciousness stream?
perhaps
but
I hear tell
that it moves
both as a particle
and a wave
©MMVI Derek R. Audette
poem by Derek R. Audette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love's Young Dream
Oh! the days are gone, when Beauty bright
My heart's chain wove;
When my dream of life, from morn till night,
Was love, still love.
New hope may bloom,
And days may come,
Of milder calmer beam,
But there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream:
No, there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream.
Though the bard to purer fame may soar,
When wild youth's past;
Though he win the wise, who frown'd before,
To smile at last;
He'll never meet
A joy so sweet,
In all his noon of fame,
As when first he sung to woman's ear
His soul-felt flame,
And, at every close, she blush'd to hear
The one loved name.
No, -- that hallow'd form is ne'er forgot
Which first love traced;
Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot
On memory's waste.
'Twas odour fled
As soon as shed;
'Twas morning's winged dream;
'Twas a light, tht ne'er can shine again
On life's dull stream:
Oh! 'twas light that n'er can shine again
On life's dull stream.
poem by Thomas Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Waiting Game
It seems we wait and wait and wait
for something all our days.
And the time we spend waiting
provides us with delays.
Sometimes what we wait for
is so far out of reach
that the waiting becomes the lesson
that your life is trying to teach.
To wait for the improbable to happen
is called the impossible dream.
Tis it not better to stop the waiting
and stop the inner stream
of frustrating tears that flow each day
because instinctively you know
that the waiting will never disappear.
The waiting will never go.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Wreath To The Fish
Who is this fish, still wearing its wealth,
flat on my drainboard, dead asleep,
its suit of mail proof only against the stream?
What is it to live in a stream,
to dwell forever in a tunnel of cold,
never to leave your shining birthsuit,
never to spend your inheritance of thin coins?
And who is the stream, who lolls all day
in an unmade bed, living on nothing but weather,
singing, a little mad in the head,
opening her apron to shells, carcasses, crabs,
eyeglasses, the lines of fisherman begging for
news from the interior-oh, who are these lines
that link a big sky to a small stream
that go down for great things:
the cold muscle of the trout,
the shinning scrawl of the eel in a difficult passage,
hooked-but who is this hook, this cunning
and faithful fanatic who will not let go
but holds the false bait and the true worm alike
and tears the fish, yet gives it up to the basket
in which it will ride to the kitchen
of someone important, perhaps the Pope
who rejoices that his cook has found such a fish
and blesses it and eats it and rises, saying,
"Children, what is it to live in the stream,
day after day, and come at last to the table,
transfigured with spices and herbs,
a little martyr, a little miracle;
children, children, who is this fish?"
poem by Nancy Willard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wherefore
Wherefore in dreams are sorrows born anew,
A healed wound opened, or the past revived?
Last night in my deep sleep I dreamed of you –
Again the old love woke in me, and thrived
On looks of fire, and kisses, and sweet words
Like silver waters purling in a stream,
Or like the amorous melodies of birds:
A dream – a dream.
Again upon the glory of the scene
There settled that dread shadow of the cross
That, when hearts love too well, falls in between –
That warns them of impending woe and loss.
Again I saw you drifting from my life,
As barques are rudely parted in a stream;
Again my heart was torn with awful strife:
A dream –a dream.
Again the deep night settled on me there,
Alone I groped, and heard strange waters roll.
Lost in that blackness of supreme despair
That comes but once to any living soul.
Alone, afraid, I called your name aloud –
Mine eyes, unveiled, beheld white stars agleam,
And lo! awake, I cried, “Thank God, thank God,
A dream –a dream.”
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tears Of Pain
Tears of pain stream down my although I know you're in a better place
Wishing I could see your face..,
Tears of pain stream down my face, I know you won the race.
All your pain finally ends, you and I were close friends,
Tears of pain stream down my face, I'll still be here in the end,
Tears of pain stream down my face this is something I can't take.
It wasn't fare for you to go; I have never felt a deeper hole.
Tears of pain stream down my face I feel
Your presence, in my place
I sure do miss that smiling face,
Tears of pain stream down my face,
You were the brightness to fill my greys,
Tears of pain stream down my face
I miss the feeling of embrace,
When looking at your wonderful face
Tears of pain stream down my face.
It came to soon, but your alright I try to talk to you every night.
now I know you're in a better place, The tears of pain have withered away.
poem by Raeanne Runyemba
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In The Country
Bah! Ba-ba-ba-Bah! Ba-ba-ba-Bah!
Bah! Ba-ba-ba-Bah! Ba-ba-ba-Bah!
When the world in which you live in,
Gets a bit too much to bear,
And you need someone to lean on,
When you look, there's no one there
You're gonna find me, out in the country,
Yeah, you're gonna find me, way out in the country,
Where the air is good, and the day is fine,
And the pretty girl, has a hand in mine,
And the silver stream, is a poor man's wine,
In the country, in the country
When you're walking in the city,
And you're feeling rather small,
And the people on the sidewalk,
Seem to form a solid wall
You're gonna find me, out in the country,
Hey, you're gonna find me, way out in the country,
Where the air is good, and the day is fine,
And the pretty girl, has a hand in mine,
And the silver stream, is a poor man's wine,
In the country, in the country
Hurry, hurry, hurry,
For the time is slipping by,
You don't need a ticket,
It belongs to you and I
Come on an join me, out in the country,
Where the air is good, and the day is fine,
And the pretty girl, has a hand in mine,
And the silver stream, is a poor man's wine,
In the country, in the country
Bah! Ba-ba-ba-Bah! Ba-ba-ba-Bah!
Bah! Ba-ba-ba-Bah! Ba-ba-ba-Bah!
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
First rose
A heart of youthful year was yearning,
Crying out the pain; the burning
Tears would e’er remain until
An answer from the man would see them die.
A sympathetic mirror blessed her –
Softened up the curves, caressed her
Skin to help regain a calm –
Assuage a heaving breast and blushing eye.
And through a struggling mind, a chiming:
Someone at the door; the timing
Perfect and exquisite in the
Reconciliation of her woes.
She took the oak to make the parting,
‘Here! ’ a presentation startling.
Drawing deep through radiant lips, she
Kissed her very dream: a crimson rose.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Still You
There's a stream through a glen
Where wild apples grow
It runs down to old cliffs
Where foxes and deer
Watch the wild waters foam
White upon winter shores
And I know it's still you
In the waves on the shore
In the stream through the glen
Still you in the moonlight
Where apple blossom glows
And sweet breezes still blow
On the braes by that stream
In cool morning dew
There's a world fresh and free
and still time to dream
of the old and the new
to remember what's true
And I know it's still you
In the waves on the shore
In the stream through the glen
Still you in the moonlight
Where apple blossom glows
And sweet breezes still blow
Now the stream calls me home
And in its wild song
There's a lost harmony
And here in this glen
By the moon's rise and fall
I know where I belong
And it's with you, still with you
By the waves on the shore
By the stream through the glen
With you in the moonlight
Where apple blossom glows
And sweet breezes still blow
where I'm with you, still with you
Big As I Can Dream
(montgomery)
I know they dont think that Ill amount to much
But your love has given me the magic touch
Just put your faith in me and strange as it may seem
I will build a dream for you
Big as I can dream
I know that they want the best things for you
That is just what I have planned
If they only knew.
Theres no mountain thats too high
I can ford any stream
For your love I can be
Big as I can dream.
Theres no mountain thats too high
I can ford any stream
For your love I can be
Big as I can dream
Big as I can dream
Big as I can dream.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Life Convict
From the days of Socrates, the wives were cruel
Yet, we keep on to marry - thinking she is life real
No honest man will say that he is happy
At his wife, with her given habits and life styles
Seamless love is a very distant dream
With a ever quarreling wife by your side
The desires for a joyous, peaceful, spotless stream
Can only be a mirage, washed down by the endless tides
And so, we distract the bridegroom on deceptive importance
With uneasy suit, garlands, flood lights, smoke, sound & rituals
To ensure that he remains blind-folded at least that day
Till he walks into the treacherous trap ….as a LIFE CONVICT.
poem by Santhana Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!