Invita Minerva
Not of desire alone is music born,
Not till the Muse wills is our passion crowned;
Unsought she comes; if sought, but seldom found,
Repaying thus our longing with her scorn.
Hence is it poets often are forlorn,
In super-subtle chains of silence bound,
And mid the crowds that compass them around
Still dwell in isolation night and morn,
With knitted brow and cheek all passion-pale
Showing the baffled purpose of the mind.
Hence is it I, that find no prayers avail
To move my Lyric mistress to be kind,
Have stolen away into this leafy dale
Drawn by the flutings of the silvery wind.
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Passion From Within
If you want something, you’ve got to believe you can have it, and take a stand;
Give it all you got, and reach out your hand;
You can’t just go through life without falling in fire;
In time, I think you’ll find what you truly desire;
Find your true passion, the passion from within;
If you can’t find your passion, then don’t stop until you do;
For only yourself can find the true you;
Just take a deeper look inside;
Life isn’t always going to be an easy ride;
You can’t always get what you desire, you have to fight;
You can find your way, because God is the light;
When your life gets rough, and you feel bad, just pray;
If you don’t understand, talk to God, He is the way;
When you find your passion, hold it, and don’t ever let it go;
You will have your days that the good in you will show;
Is it your turn to shine?
Come on, I think it’s time
My time has come, so let’s begin
For I have found the passion, The Passion from within
poem by Shelby Brockway
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A Christmas Carol
Welcome, sweet Christmas, blest be the morn
That Christ our Saviour was born!
Earth's Redeemer, to save us from all danger,
And, as the Holy Record tells, born in a manger.
Chorus --
Then ring, ring, Christmas bells,
Till your sweet music o'er the kingdom swells,
To warn the people to respect the morn
That Christ their Saviour was born.
The snow was on the ground when Christ was born,
And the Virgin Mary His mother felt very forlorn
As she lay in a horse's stall at a roadside inn,
Till Christ our Saviour was born to free us from sin.
Oh! think of the Virgin Mary as she lay
In a lowly stable on a bed of hay,
And angels watching O'er her till Christ was born,
Therefore all the people should respect Christmas morn.
The way to respect Christmas time
Is not by drinking whisky or wine,
But to sing praises to God on Christmas morn,
The time that Jesus Christ His Son was born;
Whom He sent into the world to save sinners from hell
And by believing in Him in heaven we'll dwell;
Then blest be the morn that Christ was born,
Who can save us from hell, death, and scorn.
Then he warned, and respect the Saviour dear,
And treat with less respect the New Year,
And respect always the blessed morn
That Christ our Saviour was born.
For each new morn to the Christian is dear,
As well as the morn of the New Year,
And he thanks God for the light of each new morn.
Especially the morn that Christ was born.
Therefore, good people, be warned in time,
And on Christmas morn don't get drunk with wine
But praise God above on Christmas morn,
Who sent His Son to save us from hell and scorn.
There the heavenly babe He lay
In a stall among a lot of hay,
While the Angel Host by Bethlehem
Sang a beautiful and heavenly anthem.
Christmas time ought to be held most dear,
Much more so than the New Year,
Because that's the time that Christ was born,
Therefore respect Christmas morn.
And let the rich be kind to the poor,
And think of the hardships they do endure,
Who are neither clothed nor fed,
And Many without a blanket to their bed.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Passion Is Power Transformative
passion creates no choice
passion productivity produce
passion desire compels excels
passion is power transformative
passion is creation seductive
passion is emotive abilities
passion is mind romance
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Plastic Passion
Plastic passion is a hard to handle
Plastic passion is a sold out scandal
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is the ladies lover
Plastic passion is the marble mother
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a diamond delight
Plastic passion is the nadir of night
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a hycoscine heart
Plastic passion is a transparent tart
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a gold guarantee
The plastic passion is murdering me
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Passion
A passion found, is a passion to keep
A passion felt, is a passion to be kept
Poetry from the heart, poetry from the soul,
Poetry I have always felt,
There are many passions in
this world but none like this one, which you can
always return too when you feel lost or
feel you have something to say
I love thee yet, I love thee more
but with words I can express thee hence more
Sometimes life feels too complex to find the one with the same passion as you share,
Someone that understands you for you, not only the external you, but the inner you,
Someone that understands your thoughts and passions in life; pleasure is one thing but
Once that desire for pleasure with that person has been diminished,
what is there, nothing, a desire gone and lost,
yet to say I yearn, and can't wait till I find the one that shares the same passion and desires as I do
poem by Coker George
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Little about passion
Passion kills,
Passion thrills,
Passion fills,
with a sense of purpose..........
Passion may chill,
Passion makes ill,
Passion is still,
Pain mistaken as passion........
(2 7/Jan'/'09)
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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Mad
Call me mad as a love crazed moon
Beaming to a lonely sea
Aching so silently
Bleeding since you left me.
Mad, as the night for the gift of sight
Candle lit your cheek
Your beauty had me seek
Words only the dumb would speak.
Say i'm insane as i ride grey train
Your smiles are left behind
Some hobo wind will find
And fly them in my mind.
Put me in chains every time it rains
Or i will run with you
Down leafy avenue
And bid the world adieu.
Inject my soul if protocol
Brushes the heart from my sleeve
Why would the sun ever leave
A darkened world to grieve?
Give me a pill if you fret that i'm ill
When love wears a countenance pale
A thousand wild horses would fail
To drag our passion to jail.
Yes, call me mad as sweet lips part
For blowing a kiss to starred night
Or fllying my hopes like a kite
Real love keeps embers alight.
poem by Kevin East
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Passion
(rod stewart / chen, savigar, cregan, grainger)
Somebody somewhere
In the heat of the night
Looking pretty dangerous
Running out of patience
Tonight in the city
You wont find any pity
Hearts are being twisted
Another lover cheated, cheated
In the bars and the cafes, passion
In the streets and the alleys, passion
A lot of pretending, passion
Everybody searching, passion
Once in love youre never out of danger
One hot night spent with a stranger
All you wanted was somebody to hold on to yeah
Passion, passion
Passion, passion
New york, moscow, passion
Hong kong, tokyo, passion
Paris and bangkok, passion
A lotta people aint got, passion
Hear it in the radio, passion
Read it in the papers, passion
Hear it in the churches, passion
See it in the school yards, passion
Once in love youre never out of danger
One hot night spent with a stranger
All you wanted was somebody to hold on to yeah
Once in love youre never out of danger
One hot night spent with a stranger
All you wanted was somebody to hold on to yeah
Alone in your bed at night, passion
Its half past midnight, passion
As you turn out your sidelight, passion
Something aint right, passion
Theres no passion, theres no passion
Theres no passion, I need passion
You need passion, we need passion
Cant live without passion
Wont live without passion
Even the president needs passion
Everybody I know needs some passion
Some people die and kill for passion
Nobody admits they need passion
Some people are scared of passion
Yeah passion
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Lost You
Muse, love, use, lust, sue, romance, passion;
I found you but i lost you! !
And like the muse of love in the land of beautiful flowers,
But, who the cap fits should wear it always.
Muse, love, lust, romance, passion, due, few;
I found you but i lost you!
Joy, emotion, passion, love, lust, a kiss, sex, sex with you;
I found you but i lost you! !
And like the muse of love in the golden triangle;
But, i found you and i lost you to another man.
Hope, trope, dope, Europe, mope, cope;
And like the casual department of your muse!
Lope, nope, rope, tope, hope, cope;
I found you and i lost you! !
And like a wounded soul;
But this love was all about us.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Non Sum Qualis Eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was gray:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
poem by Ernest Dowson
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Design
Day after day, untouched by cloud or shine,
lost crowds crowds jostle underground to seek
some raison d’être through the working week
beneath the surface bustle, engine whine.
For some the day begins when in a line
they stand too long for handouts doled with pique.
For far too few is life triumphant [s]peak
prolonged from birth till death by cheques they sign.
What is the rhyme and reason, the design
behind the moving hand whose meaning’s Greek
to most – a host of phantom [s]wills who cheek
to cheek dare seldom dance, who, herded swine,
spend three score years and ten till end of span,
then fade, forgotten, from life’s caravan.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Mirna
Mirna a name to pen my passion
A mystical Goddess of love's descent
To the Goddess passion thine heart lent
Thine succulent fruit of love's compassion.
Passion met Mirna behind a curve line pale
A dark shadow in her deranged mind
Where there in solitude, her sweetness you'll find
In the music of her lovely gale.
Assailed! By the world, she must pay
All her passion, all her beauty
In her words and with her serenity
She hides her love, she passes away.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Cynara
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was gray:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Non Sum Qualis eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was gray:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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The Passion Fruit
[The Passion Fruit]
An epic Stanza a Dream if Might the cruel fates play tricks on the love longing mind. For Hope was the plant and Passion the fruit of the hearts implore. And love, Love is the Rain of all growth and for everyday a little rain must Fall.
The Dream of Dreams is to be loved in return by the one you dream of most. And so, her love grew for him as she saw the figure of his shadow in the corridor, and heard the deep soothing sound of his voice. And alas, She sought the longing in her eyes would at one point be returned by his. She knew at this point would be a point of no return.
Love can drive you to do incredible things; it seeks the soul, mind, and the spirit. And just as beauty, love is in the eyes of it’s beholder, for each person love comes differently, by the way they receive it, the way they give it, the way they earn it, and the way they see it. Each is its own plant.
For her it was the Passion Fruit.
She showered this fruit with love, and heartened it with hope. At last the fruit was brimming with Passion.
It was the Passion Fruit.
It was filled with Passion, but it was lacking light.
The light of restoration in which she would finally see the longing in his eyes as they were in hers.
And although she filled it with everything else there was no light, and No plant can survive without light.
Without light there is no hope and without hope there is no plant.
The passion in her eyes became a dull place in a bright world. For in her world there was no light in which to see, and no hope for it to be seen.
And so she faded away.
The day she would leave all passion behind, all hope, and all cares, she told him the story of the Passion Fruit. How it loved, laughed, and lived.
The words she said to him before her final farewell were, “When all seems Dark look for Light for there is always Light you just have to find it. Remember Hope was the plant and Passion the heart’s wish, it’s fruit. And love, Love is the Rain of all growth and for everyday a little rain must Fall.”
“But don’t forget light, for without light you cannot see the rain of love, and without the rain, a plant will cease to exist. I have Finally found my light, but alas I have already gone through a dark tunnel.” These words she uttered before she took her last breath.
He never forgot, for secretly she was his passion, his light, and his rain.
He eventually found another, but he would never love her, for there is only one love, for love is jealous of all others. So, he loved but once and the rest was just of like.
On his last breath he said, “I have found my Light, but at the end of a dark tunnel, for there she is waiting for me, my dream of dreams.”
“My Passion Fruit”
(c) 2006
poem by Kelsey Neystel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Passion Of Life
To achieve something great in the world you need Passion
To fulfill vision, a great leader’s courage comes from Passion
Whatever it may be, you must find your Passion
If passion drives you, let reason hold the reins
Follow your passion and success will follow you!
Never underestimate the power of passion
Without passion religion is spiritless
Without Passion history is meaningless
Without Passion art is useless
Follow your passion and success will follow you!
When you take up a mission with passion
There are no dreams too large
No innovation unimaginable
No frontiers beyond reach
Follow your passion and success will follow you!
Our passions are the winds that propel our vessel
Our reason is the pilot that steers her
Without winds the vessel would not move
Without a pilot she would be lost
Follow your passion and success will follow you!
There is no end and there is no beginning
There is only the passion of life
Passion is universal humanity
Passion is the genesis of genius
Follow your passion and success will follow you!
********************************************* ************************************
poem by Pooja Natarajan
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Where Is My Passion
Where is my passion
Far too much pain
Where is my passion
Must I love in vain?
Where is my passion
I need must know
Where is my passion
I want so much to grow
Where is my passion
Lost in your lips
Where is my passion
I feel for your kiss
Where is my passion
Lost in your eyes
Where is my passion
Release me to fly
Where is my passion
There in your hands
Where is my passion
Touch me…expand
Where is my passion
Please…be a man
poem by Fleurette Elaine Harris
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A Moment Of Passion
A moment of Passion so easily shared,
With no fear or regret,
The momories flood through my mind,
A moment of Passion I'll never forget
A moment of Passion is like a drug,
It takes me so high,
Needing to get another fix,
A moment of Passion can never lie
A moment of Passion when we are alone,
You desire it too,
Unable to control it,
A moment of Passion shared with YOU
poem by Nathaniel Hayes
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A Moment Of Passion
A moment of passion so easily shared,
with no fear or regret.
The memories flood through my mind,
a moment of passion I'll never forget.
A moment of passion is like a drug,
it takes me so high.
Needing to get another fix,
a moment of passion can never lie
A moment of passion when we are alone,
you desire it too.
Unable to control it,
a moment of passion shared with you.
Ode to passion
I say, too much passion in us poets,
like a touch of a thousand
saccharine taste invading our veins,
we cannot restrain, we
cannot condemned the only reason for our being,
passion is what keeps us breathing,
passion can make us see it all
different than others,
not to cease, not to die
or give-up, passion grows in our soul,
it reminds us it is there
every minute of our day,
when we need to count the hours
to get to him/her.
Passion is the sedactive to our worst day.
The essential of reason,
the way to a path,
to rivers and streams that find our dreams,
passion is a vessel making a net
reaching our heart our souls
keeping the beat louder and quieter in waves
frequencies, passion is vigor,
is a sparkle in our heart that continually
beats violently and has no outcome.
Passion is un 'Corazon salvaje'.
©ElenaToledo2011
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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