A Morning Song
Steal me away'til the morrow...
'Til the sun raises its sleepy head...
Let us cast our way upon the winds of today...
And allow for our desires to be fed;
Counting the ways that i shall love thee...
My imagination trembles my minds eye...
Grasping for your hand-needy in my demand-
Quickly- before our very moments fly;
For too soon the morrow arrives...
Breaking our long night into the Dawn...
Ending our 'to be'-the moments of sweet ecstacy...
For with the light of day-i shall be gone;
An Aubade
June 5,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
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Here For Today
No more songs of sorrow
Lamenting things gone past us
Live today and hope for morrow
Hold tight the moments joyous.
Maybe the morrow will not find us
Our footsteps will not ring on the grass
We have only today for a fresh start
To live anew and love with all heart.
No more songs of sorrow
It's time to break from the past
Even if there comes no morrow
Live moments that fly away fast.
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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I Am The Most Beloved Of My Beloved
Though you are not now with me, thoughts abound, as remind-
You are the one thing that they did not steal, nor could I, leave behind:
My heart was left with thee, to guard from further harm-
To be kept in the loving solace of your soul-inspiring charm!
I may possess naught, yet I have everything I need:
You are the call of my heart, and I simply must heed!
Though there exists many queries lain insatiate,
All the answers are there already, for the love He did create.
As today's night gives way to the dawn of the morrow,
Love, felicity, and truth, supplant doubt and sorrow.
Though we are now in quite disparate place, this I know,
Our hearts, minds, and souls exist together, as time shall show;
Should you still feel dubiety's pull, repeat after me:
'I am the most beloved of my beloved', then I shall repeat, after thee!
-Maurice Harris,8 August 2010
poem by Maurice Harris
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Sehnsucht
Whence are ye, vague desires,
Which carry men along,
However proud and strong;
Which, having ruled to-day,
To-morrow pass away?
Whence are ye, vague desires?
Whence are ye?
Which women, yielding to,
Find still so good and true;
So true, so good to-day,
To-morrow gone away.
Whence are ye, vague desires?
Whence are ye?
From seats of bliss above,
Where angels sing of love;
From subtle airs around,
Or from the vulgar ground,
Whence are ye, vague desires?
Whence are ye?
A message from the blest,
Or bodily unrest;
A call to heavenly good,
A fever in the blood
What are ye, vague desires?
What are ye?
Which men who know you best
Are proof against the least,
And rushing on to-day,
To-morrow cast away.
What are ye, vague desires?
What are ye?
Which women, ever new,
Still warned, surrender to;
Adored with you to-day,
Then cast with you away,
What are ye, vague desires?
What are ye?
Which unto boyhood’s heart
The force of man impart,
And pass, and leave it cold,
And prematurely old,
What are ye, vague desires?
What are ye?
Which, tremblingly confest,
Pour in the young girl’s breast
Joy, joy, the like is none,
And leave her then undone,
What are ye, vague desires?
What are ye?
Ah yet! though man be marred,
Ignoble made, and hard;
Though broken women lie
In anguish down to die;
Ah yet! ye vague desires,
Ah yet!
By Him who gave you birth,
And blended you with earth,
Was some good end designed
For man and womankind;
Ah yet! ye vague desires,
Ah yet!
The petals of to-day,
To-morrow fallen away,
Shall something leave instead,
To live when they are dead;
When you, ye vague desires,
Have vanished;
A something to survive,
Of you though it derive
Apparent earthly birth,
But of far other worth
Than you, ye vague desires,
Than you.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Me And You And Rhythm And Blue
Enchanted memories in Rhythm and Blue-
Love soaked promises of me and of you...
Blissful moments wrapped in love so true...
Ecstacy calls-but to a very few;
Music creates this ambient scene--
Promise are not from a dream...
Loves true bliss-all 'peaches and cream'--
And ecstacy 'tis- all that it seems;
What a gift of forever you and i are...
With a love that takes us high as the sky...
Soaked in passions fire-i cannot lie...
Without your love-i would surely die;
June 12,2010
The Essence
poem by Theodora Onken
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Passing Show
Steal the moments now
Before they're slain by time,
Feel the glowing warmth
Before your ignorance
Blows the bliss away!
Take even the littlest of it
Live them frame by frame
Before the passion dies
And you are an ornate in the wall!
Own the moments now
Before bereft of your response
Love bows its head in shame
And the night's thunder
Scorches your blood into ashes!
Steal the moments now
Let not miserliness steal them away
Feel the life's radiant glow
To the end of the passing show!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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If you surrender completely to the moments as they pass, you live more richly those moments.
quote by Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Angels Are Sleeping
mechanical bulbs light
shines a seeing light
not to fierce or bright
for this small desk site
so I may write by night
by a cast artificial light
little angels are sleeping
they return to me creeping
once or twice for kisses
for their good night kisses
after their first off to bed
younger first then elder
then kisses cuddles fed
they depart again for bed
to rest a weary little head
where now is their sleepy mother
in precious moments of no bother
why she is happily watching the tv
to my work she always leaves me free
I am here for you as you are for me
when I sleep my wishes watch over thee
so twinkle twinkle little star near or far
worry not for I am as near as I am far
with love for you where ever you are
poem by Terence George Craddock
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There's No To-Morrow
Two long had Lov'd, and now the Nymph desir'd,
The Cloak of Wedlock, as the Case requir'd;
Urg'd that, the Day he wrought her to this Sorrow,
He Vow'd, that he wou'd marry her To-Morrow.
Agen he Swears, to shun the present Storm,
That he, To-Morrow, will that Vow perform.
The Morrows in their due Successions came;
Impatient still on Each, the pregnant Dame
Urg'd him to keep his Word, and still he swore the same.
When tir'd at length, and meaning no Redress,
But yet the Lye not caring to confess,
He for his Oath this Salvo chose to borrow,
That he was Free, since there was no To-Morrow;
For when it comes in Place to be employ'd,
'Tis then To-Day; To-Morrow's ne'er enjoy'd.
The Tale's a Jest, the Moral is a Truth;
To-Morrow and To-Morrow, cheat our Youth:
In riper Age, To-Morrow still we cry,
Not thinking, that the present Day we Dye;
Unpractis'd all the Good we had Design'd;
There's No To-Morrow to a Willing Mind.
poem by Anne Kingsmill Finch
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My Canadian Chronicles 13
In each life, there are special moments
we like to remember and recall.
Moments that have brought us laughter
almost cascading into tears.
Moments of great happiness
to last us through the years.
Moments with very special people
who are dearly beloved friends.
Special moments no one can take away.
They happen but once
and are captured forever within our mind.
Special moments within our lifetime.
10 June 2009
poem by David Harris
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Moments
We have treasured moments
we collect everyday,
as we walk our journey
along life’s long and winding road.
Moments that we want to keep
for some sad and lonely day.
Moments to treasure,
when the sun refuses to shine.
Moments to remember
and call upon at anytime.
Moments when we are blessed,
with love and friendship divine.
Moments that we gather,
with love in our memories.
Moments, beautiful moment,
we gather everyday.
poem by David Harris
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I Bid Thee Farewell
I bid thee farewell my sweet love
All the staggering moments we both shared
All the joy we both brought to one another's heart
All the great things we did for one another
I bid thee farewell my sweet love
All the laughter we shared together
All the memories we created together
All the pleasures we did for one another
I bid thee farewell my sweet love
It was good while it lasted
O, I do miss it, all those moments
I am only left with memories, which I shall forever cherish
I bid thee farewell my sweet love
Now that it is all over, all I can do is bid thee farewell
As I must set you free, free to be happy
I bid thee farewell - My Sweet Love
poem by Gabriel Gauci Maistre
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I Learn Of Strength, Beauty, Love and Compassion
My heart resides with thee, its tutelar;
My consort with thee, in many ways didascalar-
I learn of strength, beauty, love and compassion;
Rare indeed, yet you possess and gift them, absent ration!
As each day passes to the morrow,
I learn more from thee, with hope to borrow
More permanence still, with the passing of days-
Hoping beyond all hope that this bounty stays!
I reside now in a state heretofore only in the scape of dream;
My reality supplants this aspiration, though real it did seem!
I must cause remind daily that this glory be not a wraith;
Proof positive this hath been, in the overwhelming power of faith!
I shan't cease erudition, thee not, pedagogy-same, contrariwise;
Sikerly this shall be our future, as in the morrow, the Sun shall again rise!
Maurice Harris,18 May 2010
poem by Maurice Harris
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In Sadness Tears May Guide Us
in sadness tears may befriend us
happy memories may guide us
back into myriads of love moments
moments when we were nurtured in love
moments when we were embraced in love
moments when we were shaped in love
such moments are safe inside us
such moments will navigate guide us
such moments are strength within us
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Those Special Moments
If only we could keep
those moments from slippin' away,
grab hold of them and cherish them
and try to make them stay.
But moments like those so often
are hard to hold onto.
They slip right through your fingers
no matter what you do.
You can think about it, talk about it
and remember it for a while.
Then as time keeps rushing away
what's left is just a smile.
The smile that brings those moments back
as if they were happening now.
And those moments that happened long ago
come alive somehow.
And you realize just a glimpse of them
awakens how you feel.
It takes you back to those moments
that time can never steal.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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At Home
When I was dead, my spirit turned
To seek the much-frequented house:
I passed the door, and saw my friends
Feasting beneath green orange boughs;
From hand to hand they pushed the wine,
They sucked the pulp of plum and peach;
They sang, they jested, and they laughed,
For each was loved of each.
I listened to thier honest chat:
Said one: "To-morrow we shall be
Plod plod along the featureless sands,
And coasting miles and miles of sea."
Said one: "Before the turn of tide
We will achieve the eyrie-seat."
Said one: "To-morrow shall be like
To-day, but much more sweet."
"To-morrow," said they, strong with hope,
And dwelt upon the pleasant way:
"To-morrow," cried they, one and all,
While no one spoke of yesterday.
Their life stood full at blessed noon;
I, only I, had passed away:
"To-morrow and to-day," they cried;
I was of yesterday.
I shivered comfortless, but cast
No chill across the table-cloth;
I, all-forgotten, shivered, sad
To stay, and yet to part how loth:
I passed from the familiar room,
I who from love had passed away,
Like the remembrance of a guest
That tarrieth but a day.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Dost Thou Not Care?
I love and love not: Lord, it breaks my heart
To love and not to love.
Thou veiled within Thy glory, gone apart
Into Thy shrine, which is above,
Dost Thou not love me, Lord, or care
For this mine ill?—
I love thee here or there,
I will accept thy broken heart, lie still.
Lord, it was well with me in time gone by
That cometh not again,
When I was fresh and cheerful, who but I?
I fresh, I cheerful: worn with pain
Now, out of sight and out of heart;
O Lord, how long?—
I watch thee as thou art,
I will accept thy fainting heart, be strong.
'Lie still,' 'be strong,' to-day; but, Lord, to-morrow,
What of to-morrow, Lord?
Shall there be rest from toil, be truce from sorrow,
Be living green upon the sward
Now but a barren grave to me,
Be joy for sorrow?—
Did I not die for thee?
Did I not live for thee? Leave Me to-morrow.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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You Aren't Sure
There on the rock wall
The sun kisses the last time
Then it bows and bids farewell
For the evening to spin her rhyme.
But you hope there'll be a morrow
The transient night will end
The darkness will be a passing sorrow
With the new dawn you will amend.
There on the mountain peaks
The sun clings one last time
Then another world it seeks
Here the evening spins her rhyme.
But you aren't sure there'll be a morrow
And the night that arrives will end
The darkness will be a passing sorrow
Gifting you a day to amend!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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A few moments together
Let us spend a few moments together,
the holidays won’t last for ever,
the promises we made to finish up the house chores,
will be our New Year's resolution for the next year.
Let us spend a few moments together,
let us feel each others pains together,
let us look in each others eyes,
let us rediscover the lost love in our hearts.
Let us spend a few moments together,
our long relationship has made our dreams stale,
let us share the soft touch of red roses of our love,
let us walk hand in hand together adoring the surf on the beach.
Let us spend a few moments together,
let us not worry about driving to popular places and beating the crowds,
let us sit close together and look at the stars in night skies,
let us really relive this life together.
poem by Jay P Narain
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Holy Innocents
Sleep, little Baby, sleep,
The holy Angels love thee,
And guard thy bed, and keep
A blessed watch above thee.
No spirit can come near
Nor evil beast to harm thee:
Sleep, Sweet, devoid of fear
Where nothing need alarm thee.
The Love which doth not sleep,
The eternal arms around thee:
The shepherd of the sheep
In perfect love has found thee.
Sleep through the holy night,
Christ-kept from snare and sorrow,
Until thou wake to light
And love and warmth to-morrow.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Ashes Of Life
Love has gone and left me and the days are all alike;
Eat I must, and sleep I will,—and would that night were
here!
But ah!—to lie awake and hear the slow hours strike!
Would that it were day again!—with twilight near!
Love has gone and left me and I don't know what to do;
This or that or what you will is all the same to me;
But all the things that I begin I leave before I'm through,—
There's little use in anything as far as I can see.
Love has gone and left me,—and the neighbors knock and
borrow,
And life goes on forever like the gnawing of a mouse,—
And to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow
There's this little street and this little house.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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