Final Rest
Somewhere in the dessert
She sits alone
Totally unraveled
To strings of past desire
In antiscipation of an oasis
Peeking into the sand
She sees his face
Absolute reflection of her need
A bouquet of hues of longing
Turns softly into the here and now
Her fragile woven existance
Weaves love into tender feelings
But 'tis it just a tale she has
Penned in vain?
Her desire 'tis uncovered
Chillingly into the reality of an
Ice covered dawn
She is able to remember
A lovelier time
Brief yet gentle
When her young world danced
And laughed and her joy was
Everywhere
But in kneeling now
At this most sad hour
Her winter season of life
She ignites her tears
In effigy
A lost and smoke filled
Offering
To her lonely and broken
Destiny
poem by Theodora Onken
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Related quotes
Measures of Sorrow
Fire surges across the uncovered plains of reflection:
water rolls along slowly
mirrowing measures of sorrow.
As my trembling body shakes of uttering sadnes
drawn onto my still plastered face...
Hopes as cold as the winter skies
brings out a smell of burning red coal;
oh cries measures of sorrow:
where has my path of happiness
led me?
Hopes flutter by with wings of desire.
Fire brings in warmth
and curls lone figures into -
balls of snow
hurling across the uncovered plains of reflection.
My kindered heart is broken
burned by the fire surge
across the uncovered plains of reflection -
love envelops me? !
takes me into the heart
of a lone person
and the balls of sorrow uncurl...
inflicting measures of sorrow?
Into measures of love?
Into the heart of the unknown sullen
world of fear combining love in its mind.
poem by Celine Berghmans
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Reflections
Writers: brian holland, lamont dozier & eddie holland
Through the hollow of my tears
I see a dream thats lost
From the hurt, ooh, that you have caused
Through the mirror of my mind
Time after time I see reflections of you and me
Reflections of
The way life used to be
Reflections of
The love you took from me
Im all alone now, no love to shield me
Back to the world of that stops at reality
Oh that happiness, ah you took from me
And you left me with only memories
Through the mirror of my mind
Through all these tears Im cryin
Reflects the hurt I cant control
cause though youre gone
I keep holdin on
Through the happy times
When you were mine
As I peer through the window of lost time
Thinkin over my yesterdays
All the love I had in vain
All the love I have wasted
All the tears I have tasted, uh-huh
Through the hollow of my tears
I see a dream thats lost
From the hurt, ooh, you have caused
Evrywhere I turn, evrything I see
Reflects the love that used to be
In you I put all my love
My faith and trust
And right before my eyes
My world has turned to dust
At drop of night I sat alone and wept
Just a handful of promises
All thats left of lovin you -- whoo
Ya got the reflection
Ya got the reflection
Ya got the reflection
The way I used to be
Ya got the reflection
Ya got the reflection
Ya got the reflection
Ya got the reflection
song performed by by Leo Sayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Day and night (Russian romance)
Day and night dropp tenderness in my heart,
Day and night my head goes around,
Day and night your words as fairy tale
Break my heart and lovely sound.
Only once your heart filled with desire,
Only once your destiny breaks down.
Only once when evening is so gloomy
I need love and want to love.
Purple ray is melting on the sunset
Lovely flowers are shrouded in blue.
Where are you desired once and tender?
Where are you my fell asleeping dreams?
Only once your heart filled with desire,
Only once your destiny breaks down,
Only once when evening is so gloomy
I need love and want to love.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Early Morning Call
I rose at this a.m. and caught the phone
Its brittle ring,
I picked it up, I held it to my ear!
The static on the line was like
Some ancient offering,
But deep and dark and empty, like desire!
And then your voice, it rang down from past ages
Snapped your name,
When like a whip it crackled through the line,
Your voice then conjured clearings where
The crow cawed at the dawn,
And rattled windows shuttered in my mind.
Your call was brief, then gone; but I sat still,
As still as stone,
For the wasteland of the past had filled my well,
Where the trees had dripped at dawn
While the clearing echoed ‘Gone! ’
And tears of crystal shattered where they fell.
There is nothing I can do, life has come and gone
And you
Keep your feelings locked in shackles and in chain,
But if you should call again
I’ll be out, and wandering
On pathways new, where ‘love’ is just a name.
17 September 1998
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Into The Looking Glass
Who is viewer
of own reflected image?
Do you see en-fleshed
reality as youth,
radiant in bullet proof
life, embracing beauty,
or age en-fleshed;
as ancient life survivor?
Is held looking glass
in the hand of age or beauty?
Interesting is what each
woman sees, the now of youth,
or lined reality, of age
or memories of youth; that linger.
Some gaze deeply into
the glass, past surface experience.
Through the eyes of seeing
through eye of inner soul.
Does the young man see
in his face, reflection of girlfriend?
Is the sparkle in his eyes,
for her or the girl, he hopes to find?
Does he seek one or many?
The wild ones, are ever attractive.
Does the girl see the bride?
A man to be moulded into marriage?
Do people really desire
to see, themselves in the mirror?
Or do they look with hope
or dreams, fitting flesh accordingly?
Changing hair perfume clothes,
shape, is cosmetic transition.
Others re-sculpture entire body
to create, plastic fantastic.
Those who cannot stand reflection
find form, in hall of mirrors.
Reflections born of desire can be
mind interactive, blade dreams.
Some hate image bent through years
while others, embrace soul’s journey.
Remember quote 'A monkey is superior
to man, in that when it looks in the mirror,
all it sees is a monkey.’ Yet this is not true,
a monkey sees status and primacy paramount.
Each monkey sees, own others, integral place
interactive, dependent place; within the troop.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Bond
Once, I remember, when we were at home
I had come into church, and waited late,
Ere lastly kneeling to communicate
Alone : and thinking that you would not come.
Then, with closed eyes (having received the Host)
I prayed for your dear self, and turned to rise ;
When lo ! beside me like a blessed ghost —
Nay, a grave sunbeam — you I Scarcely my eyes
Could credit it, so softly had you come
Beside me as I thought I walked alone.
Thus long ago ; but now, when fate bereaves
Life of old joys, how often as I'm kneeling
To take the Blessed Sacrifice that weaves
Life's tangled threads, so broken to man's seeing,
Into one whole ; I have the sudden feeling
That you are by, and look to see a face
Made in fair flesh beside me, and all my being
Thrills with the old sweet wonder and faint fear
As in that sabbath hour — how long ago ! —
When you had crept so lightly to your place.
Then, then, I know
(My heart can always tell) that you are near.
poem by Frederick William Harvey
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My autumn [2]
Around me trees are stripped
rigid, bare and totally naked
and heaps of leaves lie fallen
already colouring
from yellow to red and into brown.
Everything is lifeless,
like my life in pieces
and still there are thunderstorms
that repeatedly falls in this winter
out of season
and I am almost blinded by the thunder
as if it wants to devour everything about me
and still there’s new life
that this rain brings
and it’s clear
that my autumn is coming too early
and although my body still feels young
the greyness are creeping in
and you write words
of keeping yourself in vain,
of a child
that never will be born
and about everything becoming rotten
like a compos heap
and that love has also receded
as if everything this autumn
has elapsed for once and all.
Yet the grass is still green,
some trees are covered with leaves
and I wonder where you and I stand
when this season disappears
and the coming winter ends?
Still you are in my heart,
as if you are part of me
and I know that life without you
is totally meaningless.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Evening Solace
The human heart has hidden treasures,
In secret kept, in silence sealed;--
The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,
Whose charms were broken if revealed.
And days may pass in gay confusion,
And nights in rosy riot fly,
While, lost in Fame's or Wealth's illusion,
The memory of the Past may die.
But there are hours of lonely musing,
Such as in evening silence come,
When, soft as birds their pinions closing,
The heart's best feelings gather home.
Then in our souls there seems to languish
A tender grief that is not woe;
And thoughts that once wrung groans of anguish
Now cause but some mild tears to flow.
And feelings, once as strong as passions,
Float softly back--a faded dream;
Our own sharp griefs and wild sensations,
The tale of others' sufferings seem.
Oh! when the heart is freshly bleeding,
How longs it for that time to be,
When, through the mist of years receding,
Its woes but live in reverie!
And it can dwell on moonlight glimmer,
On evening shade and loneliness;
And, while the sky grows dim and dimmer,
Feel no untold and strange distress--
Only a deeper impulse given
By lonely hour and darkened room,
To solemn thoughts that soar to heaven
Seeking a life and world to come.
poem by Charlotte Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Unlocked Soul
As he builds me up for a path unknown,
He places peace and quietness, in a lost soul.
I could not fathom his purpose, why me.
Cries of sadness from those I love.
As my heart reaches out as they spoke.
I know joy is inside, I cry don't you see it!
Only you can bring it out!
I remember those tears I cried,
Fallow me on my quest of destiny;
take my hand as we walk.
My shoulder is bare, and my wisdom is free.
The love in my heart is just for you.
I will always be there!
Love is the answer, don't you see.
It's a greatness of life,
the ultimate pleasure we seek.
As years have past by,
I look deep inside their souls.
I see a longing, a desire, and a need!
poem by Carlene Maddux
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The Risk
Lonely tears upon my face dried
My broken heart replied
Will my shattered heart mend
For time does a broken heart tend
Days dissolve into endless time
Tender memories play across my mind
The bitter and the sweet do blend
For the passing of love does end
My heart keeps asking why
My soul does ache to try
Will love bloom again
Past the fear, past the pain
Does one dare to risk it all
To let the heart take a fall
To take one's heart off the shelf
To totally risk one's own self
Will my heart not want to flee
Can I think of more than me
But I will anxiously await
For love to walk thru my garden gate
poem by Lorie Robertson
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Perfect Hour
Love isn't possessing
It's caressing.
Our summer
Soon covered
By that autumn veil.
Smothered
By a winter's tale.
So cold.
So hold
Your lover near.
While sunlight
Shines upon your face.
And dispels any fear.
When you lovingly embrace
That flower.
For one perfect hour.
Losing what you are.
And finding yourself.
Out of your jar.
And off of the shelf.
Our flame
Is burning low.
Yet, we will never know.
Until darkness rules the sky.
When the moon
Has waved goodbye.
And shooting stars
Do fly
Away.
Our passion
Is not about tomorrow.
Let your feelings out
Today.
As right now
While our bodies sway.
Heated,
In the dance of love.
Cheated
By white turtle dove
On lost horizon fading.
Before our fruit of love
Turns sour.
May Adam kiss Eve
In their
Perfect hour.
poem by Kevin East
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An Ever Open Door
Desire to live, love and dream
Desire to desire more
Desire is the flirtiest whim
It's an ever open door.
Desire to touch you once
Desire to break into a dance
Desire to hold your hand
Desire to build on sand!
It's an ever open door
You desire and desire more!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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379
how small and far can we be
when love
breaks,
how small is our way of looking
at love's other possibilities
when love is lost
and gone away,
we shrink in pain
and we become so insignificant like a
dropp of rain to the ocean
or a granule of sand
on the shore
yet love is vast
its domain is encompassing the earth
and space
the whole of this expansive universe
so why cry
when one love is gone when this or that love leaves you
it is just one moment
come to think
a little higher and be lighter to reach the feelings of the stars
the foresightings of the moon
learn to love again
and be stronger in every loss
rise higher from every fall
mend that broken heart
and embroider in there the golden threads
of another love
even lovelier than before
because for once you know what love is
when it dies
it is reborn
resurrects itself always lovelier that ever before.....
wipe your tears and let you eyes glow
brightly to another soul
another face waiting for you,
he loves you so....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Remembrance of a Child
This poem is written for all children taken from this world by rape and abuse.
Remembrance of a Child
By: Adam M. Snow
Remembrance of a child,
born tender and mild,
not an age past eight.
Such innocent filled eyes,
this world despise,
now lying in this grave.
She would laugh and play,
every night and every day,
with that smile upon her face.
She could light up the world,
when she danced and twirled,
now her essence is broken.
She never done no harm,
with her joyous charm,
now her essence is tainted.
She didn't deserve what she got,
yet the people soon forgot,
how she died in vain.
Taken from home by a family friend,
raped and abused, soon would be her end.
Now tarnished and left for dead,
cold and alone she waits,
as the world berates,
now naked and afraid, she dies.
Remembrance of a child,
born tender and mild,
yet taken at a young age.
Such innocent filled eyes,
this world despise,
now lying in this grave.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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How Small And Far Can We Be
how small and far can we be
when love
breaks,
how small is our way of looking
at love's other possibilities
when love is lost
and gone away,
we shrink in pain
and we become so insignificant like a
rain dropping to the ocean
or a granule of sand
on the shore
yet love is vast
its domain is encompassing the earth
and space
the whole of this expansive universe
so why cry
when one love is gone when this or that love leaves you
it is just one moment
come to think
a little higher and be lighter to reach the feelings of the stars
the fore sightings of the moon
learn to love again
and be stronger in every loss
rise higher from every fall
mend that broken heart
and embroider in there the golden threads
of another love
even lovelier than before
because for once you know what love is
when it dies
it is reborn
resurrects itself always lovelier that ever before.....
wipe your tears and let you eyes glow
brightly to another soul
another face waiting for you,
he loves you so....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Old Wife and the New
He sat beneath the curling vines
That round the gay verandah twined,
His forehead seamed with sorrow’s lines,
An old man with a weary mind.
His young wife, with a rosy face
And brown arms ambered by the sun,
Went flitting all about the place—
Master and mistress both in one.
What caused that old man’s look of care?
Was she not blithe and fair to see?
What blacker than her raven hair,
What darker than her eyes might be?
The old man bent his weary head;
The sunlight on his gray hair shone;
His thoughts were with a woman dead
And buried, years and years agone:
The good old wife who took her stand
Beside him at the altar-side,
And walked with him, hand clasped in hand,
Through joy and sorrow till she died.
Ah, she was fair as heart’s desire,
And gay, and supple-limbed, in truth,
And in his veins there leapt like fire
The hot red blood of lusty youth.
She stood by him in shine and shade,
And, when hard-beaten at his best,
She took him like a child and laid
His aching head upon her breast.
She helped him make a little home
Where once were gum-trees gaunt and stark,
And bloodwoods waved green-feathered foam—
Working from dawn of day to dark,
Till that dark forest formed a frame
For vineyards that the gods might bless,
And what was savage once became
An Eden in the wilderness.
And how at their first vintage-time
She laughed and sang—you see such shapes
On vases of the Grecian prime—
And danced a reel upon the grapes!
And ever, as the years went on,
All things she kept with thrifty hand,
Till never shone the sun upon
A fairer homestead in the land.
Then children came—ah, me! ah, me!
Sad blessings that a mother craves!
That old man from his seat could see
The shadows playing o’er their graves.
And then she closed her eyes at last,
Her gentle, useful, peaceful life
Was over—garnered with the past;
God rest thee gently, Good Old Wife!
His young wife has a rosy face,
And laughs, with reddest lips apart,
But cannot fill the empty place
Within that old man’s lonely heart.
His young wife has a rosy face,
And brown arms ambered by the sun,
Goes flitting all about the place,
Master and mistress both in one;
But though she sings, or though she sighs,
He sees her not—he sees instead
A gray-haired Shade with gentle eyes—
The good old wife, long dead, long dead.
He sits beneath the curling vines,
Through which the merry sunrays dart,
His forehead seamed with sorrow’s lines—
An old man with a broken heart.
poem by Victor James Daley
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You Are An Ocean
We never met God knows ever will meet,
but heart is lost with highest possible beat,
let me offer you all my feelings stepping down
on your palm to make ur face glow and shine
Like a space of infinity you are an Ocean
which, I have to discover with some new motion
when my nights rest on stars that reflects on you
I feel totally blended, lost somewhere high in blue
my angel of love and share of heart i look at you
it is magical, it is fantasy, yet also very true
unknowingly I am moving to a world of no return,
Where my desire and your fragrance together burn
all your thoughts in canvas of my mind and soul
turns in to a masterpiece as my life's aim and goal
looks I am taken over and over away by you
showering in me as a rain of you and only you
poem by Seema Gupta
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A Conversation With Desire
desire, i know you
when i look at you and you look at me
we know what we really mean
even without the use of a word
desire, we can fit together,
for my name is a longing unsatisfied
we may
but for the time being i cannot
for my hands are chained
to morality and civility and courtesy
of my past
and for the pleasure of my future
desire, go, pass me by
i am not yet prepared to die.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Seasons of Life
A weaver sits
among the beautiful
threads weaving a glorious
tapestry. Brilliant colors reflect
the seasons of life.
Spring offers
many hues of green,
ever so soothing. When
hearts are young, happy and carefree.
having promises for tomorrow.
Still young enough to
believe dreams will come true.
Oh those days
of summer with wonderful
red, thinking we have found
our hearts delight. Enjoying the heat
of the season, passion abounding.
Then Autumn turns
leaves to many shades of
gold, and cascade to the ground.
Leaving painted pictures lying around.
Looking at life differently.
Knowledge obtainable at last.
Finally the majestic
days of winter silver threads
carefully enter woven. In retrospect
with greens, reds, and gold have created
the wonderful seasons of life.
poem by Heather Burns
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The Alien...
it is never the desire
of him
who writes so well to become another poet in the halls of fame,
no, not, and far from it,
all that he did was merely to unload
what was in his mind
on those dark nights
when he felt terribly
either sad, or horrified or lonely,
it is only sometimes when
he felt bliss
or those tiny pieces of happy
minutes that
comfort his mind
that eases his heart
on this long and lonely journey
toward a faraway place
which he thinks he must have been
but he cannot anymore remember
except that feeling
of
missing, that longing that no word has ever filled
that nostalgia that never disappears
while waiting
while standing by
on a train station that takes him back
to a rented room
while sitting on a chair as everything flashes
on him
like lightning
when he sees only shadows of trees
and rooftops
and then the heavy rain
compels him to close the window
though
this time
brave as he is on his own
there are no
more tears...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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