Genesis
I was but a half-grown boy,
You were a girl-child slight.
Ah, how weary you were!
You had led in the bullock-fight...
We slew the bullock at length
With knives and maces of stone.
And so your feet were torn,
Your lean arms bruised to the bone.
Perhaps 'twas the slain beast's blood
We drank, or a root we ate,
Or our reveling evening bath
In the fall by the garden gate,
But you turned to a witching thing,
Side-glancing, and frightened me;
You purred like a panther's cub,
You sighed like a shell from the sea.
We knelt. I caressed your hair
By the light of the leaping fire:
Your fierce eyes blinked with smoke,
Pine-fumes, that enhanced desire.
I helped to unbraid your hair
In wonder and fear profound:
You were humming your hunting tune
As it swept to the grassy ground.
Our comrades, the shaggy bear,
The tiger with velvet feet,
The lion, crept to the light
Whining for bullock meat.
We fed them and stroked their necks...
They took their way to the fen
Where they hunted or hid all night;
No enemies, they, of men.
Evil had entered not
The cobra, since defiled.
He watched, when the beasts had gone
Our kissing and singing wild.
Beautiful friend he was,
Sage, not a tempter grim.
Many a year should pass
Ere Satan should enter him.
He danced while the evening dove
And the nightingale kept in tune.
I sang of the angel sun:
You sang of the angel-moon:
We sang of the angel-chief
Who blew thro' the trees strange breath,
Who helped in the hunt all day
And granted the bullock's death.
O Eve with the fire-lit breast
And child-face red and white!
I heaped the great logs high!
That was our bridal night.
poem by Vachel Lindsay

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
i Saw a Woman
i saw a woman
Dancing on her grave
She smiled and sang
La la lee
La la lo
La la lee
La la lo
She picked up Death's cat
By tail & twirled the thing
La la lee
La la lo
Death watched curriously
How this thing could be
La la lee
He scratched his head
La la lo
The woman looked back at Death
And flipped him off
Her skeleton bones
Were white as snow
Now her dance
Was beginning to slow
Death thought now
Was her time to go
Instead
She skinned the cat
And made a dress
Put it on
And picked up her song
La la lee
Death's eyes popped out
At what he saw next
The woman's bones
Grew new flesh
Her hair combed and tapered in curls
Death ran at her with fury
But tripped along
An old tomebstone
La la lo
Death on the ground
She picked up her dance
And danced on Death
Bone by bone
She trampled him in the ground
The last thing he saw
Was the woman's child
And he sang and danced
La la lee
Along with a whole
Party of bones
La la lo
poem by Deci Hernandez

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wildeyes
I got a girl with her eyes wide open
Her vision pierces the sky
Her name is angel 'n' she's just like a raven
Wild eyes
No one can tell me no no nobody knows
Where she comes from or where she goes
Such a dangerous girl with her dreams intact
Wild eyes
Chorus
Now now angel
Now now wild eyes
Now now angel
Now now wild eyes
Off the planet and across your brains
Break the walls i'm in love again
And even telepathic children
Have to eat their vegetables
Wild eyes
There were days when we linked our arms
Swayed and sang with our fists in the air
And as the sirens sang we asked for more
With wild eyes
Angel and i need more of what's real
And we want it now
Repeat chorus
Like a shadow on the walls of time
Like a soldier at the walls of troy
Like a lover at your heart again
I wanna break through
song performed by by Jefferson Starship

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Angel of Darkness
Angel of Darkness
My loving life
You pulled me up
Instead of pulling me down
My Angel of Darkness
Angel of Darkness
With brown shaggy hair
And dark blue Blazing eyes
My heart it soars
With my Angel of Darkness
Angel of Darkness
Jet black wings
That spread across the sky
In flight that never ends
With my Angel of Darkness
Angel of Darkness
Give me a kiss
And make it a dark sensation
And I will follow your command
And never fight with you
My Angel of Darkness
Angel of Darkness
Take my body because it’s yours
It sub comes to yours
In my breathless wake
My Angel of Darkness
Angel of Darkness
I will fight and stand
Not against you
Just against my last breath
We are creature of the night
And I will be with you and stay with you
My Angel of Darkness

The Three Maidens
There were three maidens met on the highway;
The sun was down, the night was late:
And two sang loud with the birds of May,
O the nightingale is merry with its mate.
Said they to the youngest, Why walk you there so still?
The land is dark, the night is late:
O, but the heart in my side is ill,
And the nightingale will languish for its mate.
Said they to the youngest, Of lovers there is store;
The moon mounts up, the night is late:
O, I shall look on man no more,
And the nightingale is dumb without its mate.
Said they to the youngest, Uncross your arms and sing;
The moon mounts high, the night is late:
O my dear lover can hear no thing,
And the nightingale sings only to its mate.
They slew him in revenge, and his true-love was his lure;
The moon is pale, the night is late:
His grave is shallow on the moor;
O the nightingale is dying for its mate.
His blood is on his breast, and the moss-roots at his hair;
The moon is chill, the night is late:
But I will lie beside him there:
O the nightingale is dying for its mate.
poem by George Meredith

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
One Winged Angel
A goddess with grace
A demon with strength
Will be born
A child of faith
A child of wisdom
A child of might
The child will know the way to fight
The child will soar the skies above
The child will know a once true love
The child will sing a loving tune
The child will die a once full moon
A child of good
A child of bad
This is a child that cannot be sad
A wing of an angel on the left
A wing of a devil on the right
This is the story of the monster of the night
He walks through the day a normal man
Through the night he's one you cannot stand
Once a child of beauty and grace
Now a fiend of wicked and waste
He walks through the forest seeking all
Creatures of size big and small
In the night he finds a place
With a man he'd like to taste
Closer up he begins to walk
While the man begins to talk
A song he sings
The monster does hear
Calms the beast while so near
The beast begins to change its face
And once again the child of grace
As the child stands in wait
An arrow strikes to seal his fate
In the moonlight a child has died
On horseback the hunter rides
Closer to see his kill
In his mind for just the thrill
As he sees the fallen angel
A puddle of blood with body mangled
He cries in tears for what he's done
It's now time for the sun
The child rises from the ground
With a halo so very round
As the angel takes it's leave
The man now he so believes
Of the one winged angel.
poem by Cody J Walker

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bullock by name, and Bullock by nature.
quote by Alan Bullock

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Bible in Poetry: Revelation 8
1He opened then the seventh seal,
And heav’n turned silent for half hour.
2The seven angels before God,
Were given seven trumpets then.
3An angel, with a gold censer,
Came and stood before the altar.
He had incense to offer much,
With prayers of all the saints,
On the golden altar of God.
4The incense-smoke and saints’ prayers
Went up to God from angel's hand.
5The angel took the censer then,
And filled it with altar’s fire,
And hurled it onto the earth’s face;
There came thunder, rumblings, flashes
Of lightning and an earthquake great.
The Trumpets:
6The seven angels then prepared
To blow their trumpets, one by one.
7 When first angel blew his trumpet,
Hail came with fire, mixed with blood,
And it was hurled down on the earth.
A third of earth was burned up soon,
A third of trees were burned up too,
And all the green grass was burned up.
8The second angel blew trumpet,
And something like a huge mountain
Ablaze, was thrown into the sea.
A third of sea then turned to blood,
9A third of creatures of sea died,
A third of ships were all destroyed.
10The third angel blew his trumpet,
A great star, blazing like a torch,
Fell from sky on third of rivers
And on the earth’s springs of water—
11The name of the star was Wormwood.
A third of waters turned bitter,
And many people died from it.
12The fourth angel sounded trumpet,
A third of sun was darkened then,
A third of moon, and third of stars,
Was turned dark soon afterwards.
A third of day was without light,
A third of night also alike.
13And as I watched, an eagle flew
In midair, calling out aloud:
'Woe! Woe! To earth’s inhabitants,
Because of trumpet blasts about
To come from three other angels! '
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-16-2007
poem by John Celes

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square
When two lovers meet in Mayfair, so the legends tell,
Songbirds sing; winter turns to spring.
Every winding street in Mayfair falls beneath the spell.
I know such enchantment can be, 'cos it happened one evening to me:
That certain night, the night we met,
There was magic abroad in the air,
There were angels dining at the Ritz,
And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.
I may be right, I may be wrong,
But I'm perfectly willing to swear
That when you turned and smiled at me
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.
The moon that lingered over London town,
Poor puzzled moon, he wore a frown.
How could he know we two were so in love?
The whole darn world seemed upside down
The streets of town were paved with stars;
It was such a romantic affair.
And, as we kissed and said 'goodnight',
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square
When dawn came stealing up all gold and blue
To interrupt our rendezvous,
I still remember how you smiled and said,
"Was that a dream or was it true?"
Our homeward step was just as light
As the tap-dancing feet of Astaire
And, like an echo far away,
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square
I know 'cos I was there,
That night in Berkeley Square.
song performed by by Rod Stewart

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Gundaroo Bullock
Oh, there's some that breeds the Devon that's as solid as a stone,
And there's some that breeds the brindle which they call the "Goulburn Roan";
But amongst the breeds of cattle there are very, very few
Like the hairy-whiskered bullock that they breed at Gundaroo.
Far away by Grabben Gullen, where the Murrumbidgee flows,
There's a block of broken country-side where no one ever goes;
For the banks have gripped the squatters, and the free selectors too,
And their stock are always stolen by the men of Gundaroo.
There came a low informer to the Grabben Gullen side,
And he said to Smith the squatter, "You must saddle up and ride,
For your bullock's in the harness-cask of Morgan Donahoo --
He's the greatest cattle-stealer in the whole of Gundaroo."
"Oh, ho!" said Smith, the owner of the Grabben Gullen run,
"I'll go and get the troopers by the sinking of the sun,
And down into his homestead tonight we'll take a ride,
With warrants to identify the carcass and the hide."
That night rode down the troopers, the squatter at their head,
They rode into the homestead, and pulled Morgan out of bed.
"Now, show to us the carcass of the bullock that you slew --
The hairy-whiskered bullock that you killed in Gundaroo."
They peered into the harness-cask, and found it wasn't full,
But down among the brine they saw some flesh and bits of wool.
"What's this?" exclaimed the trooper; "an infant, I declare;"
Said Morgan, "'Tis the carcass of an old man native bear.
I heard that ye were coming, so an old man bear I slew,
Just to give you kindly welcome to my home in Gundaroo.
"The times are something awful, as you can plainly see,
The banks have broke the squatters, and they've broke the likes of me;
We can't afford a bullock -- such expense would never do --
So an old man bear for breakfast is a treat in Gundaroo."
And along by Grabben Gullen, where the rushing river flows,
In the block of broken country where there's no one ever goes,
On the Upper Murrumbidgee, they're a hospitable crew --
But you mustn't ask for "bullock" when you go to Gundaroo.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Master of the Dance
A chant to which it is intended a group of children shall dance and improvise pantomime led by their dancing-teacher.
I
A master deep-eyed
Ere his manhood was ripe,
He sang like a thrush,
He could play any pipe.
So dull in the school
That he scarcely could spell,
He read but a bit,
And he figured not well.
A bare-footed fool,
Shod only with grace;
Long hair streaming down
Round a wind-hardened face;
He smiled like a girl,
Or like clear winter skies,
A virginal light
Making stars of his eyes.
In swiftness and poise,
A proud child of the deer,
A white fawn he was,
Yet a fwn without fear.
No youth thought him vain,
Or made mock of his hair,
Or laughed when his ways
Were most curiously fair.
A mastiff at fight,
He could strike to the earth
The envious one
Who would challenge his worth.
However we bowed
To the schoolmaster mild,
Our spirits went out
To the fawn-looted child.
His beckoning led
Our troop to the brush.
We found nothing there
But a wind and a hush.
He sat by a stone
And he looked on the ground,
As if in the weeds
There was something profound.
His pipe seemed to neigh,
Then to bleat like a sheep,
Then sound like a stream
Or a waterfall deep.
It whispered strange tales,
Human words it spoke not.
Told fair things to come,
And our marvellous lot
If now with fawn-steps
Unshod we advanced
To the midst of the grove
And in reverence danced.
We obeyed as he piped
Soft grass to young feet,
Was a medicine mighty,
A remedy meet.
Our thin blood awoke,
It grew dizzy and wild,
Though scarcely a word
Moved the lips of a child.
Our dance gave allegiance,
It set us apart,
We tripped a strange measure,
Uplifted of heart.
II
We thought to be proud
Of our fawn everywhere.
We could hardly see how
Simple books were a care.
No rule of the school
This strange student could tame.
He was banished one day,
While we quivered with shame.
He piped back our love
On a moon-silvered night,
Enticed us once more
To the place of delight.
A greeting he sang
And it made our blood beat,
It tramped upon custom
And mocked at defeat.
He builded a fire
And we tripped in a ring,
The embers our books
And the fawn our good king.
And now we approached
All the mysteries rare
That shadowed his eyelids
And blew through his hair.
That spell now was peace
The deep strength of the trees,
The children of nature
We clambered her knees.
Our breath and our moods
Were in tune with her own,
Tremendous her presence,
Eternal her throne.
The ostracized child
Our white foreheads kissed,
Our bodies and souls
Became lighter than mist.
Sweet dresses like snow
Our small lady-loves wore,
Like moonlight the thoughts
That our bosoms upbore.
Like a lily the touch
Of each cold little hand.
The loves of the stars
We could now understand.
O quivering air!
O the crystalline night!
O pauses of awe
And the faces swan-white!
O ferns in the dusk!
O forest-shrined hour!
O earth that sent upward
The thrill and the power,
To lift us like leaves,
A delirious whirl,
The masterful boy
And the delicate girl!
What child that strange night-time
Can ever forget?
His fealty due
And his infinite debt
To the folly divine,
To the exquisite rule
Of the perilous master,
The fawn-looted fool?
III
Now soldiers we seem,
And night brings a new thing,
A terrible ire,
As of thunder awing.
A warrior power,
That old chivalry stirred,
When knights took up arms,
As the maidens gave word.
THE END OF OUR WAR,
WILL BE GLORY UNTOLD.
WHEN THE TOWN LIKE A GREAT
BUDDING ROSE SHALL UNFOLD!
Near, nearer that war,
And that ecstasy comes,
We hear the trees beating
Invisible drums.
The fields of the night
Are starlit above,
Our girls are white torches
Of conquest and love.
No nerve without will,
And no breast without breath,
We whirl with the planets
That never know death!
poem by Vachel Lindsay

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Angel
My angel is the one who looks over me
My angel is the who cares for me
My angel is the one who loves me
My angel has beautiful brown eyes
My angel has beautiful black hair
My angel will be there when I get hurt
My angel will be the one that is always on my mind
He is the angel that keeps me breathing
He is the angel of my dreams
He is the angel that keeps me alive
My angel will cheer me up when I’m sad
My angel will love me for me
He is my angel of my life
poem by Jessica Bousfield

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You r my Angel
You r my Angel
You r my angel the one who looks over me
You r my angel the one who cares for me
You r my angel the one who loves me
You r my angel the one who has beautiful brown eyes
You r my angel the one who has beautiful dark brown hair
You r my angel u will be there when I gets hurt
You r my angel u will be the one that is always on my mind
You r the angel that keeps me breathing
You r the angel of my dreams
You r the angel that keeps me alive
You r my angel that will cheer me up when i m sad
You r my angel that will love me lyk a sweet bess
You r my angel that will support me in my bad times
You r You r my loving Angel
Thanks for being my Angel
poem by Arjun singh Chhabra

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Memory
The tangled twilight of your hair
Blew soft against my face,
Ah! We were young and you were fair,
This was the time
And this the place.
The river wound its way along
Beside yon almond tree;
And ever its evening song
It sang to you;
It sang to me.
To-night they told me you were dead,
And watched for me to weep.
‘I’ll sit beside this stream.’ I said
‘I’ll dream awhile,
and then – I’ll sleep.’
poem by Leon Gellert

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Headless Cross
Look through the people, and on through the mist
To the hill of the headless cross
Where all witches meet, on a night such as this
And the power of darkness is host
They come face to face, eye to eye, soul to soul
With and angel that fell from the sky
Borne on the air, the screams and the wails
Of the masses appointed to die
Listen for the feet as they pound the land to a tune of thunder
Watch as the legions ride again to a fate of death or torture
At the headless cross, at the headless cross
From the first evil night, when a black flash of light
Cut the crucifix half to the ground
Theres been no escape from the power of satan
On a nation so brave and so proud
Listen for the feet as they pound the land to a tune of thunder
Watch as the legions ride again to a fate of death or torture
At the headless cross, at the headless cross
How do you feel, when the locks refuse the key
And the master is calling your name
Does the luck of the charm, really keep you from harm?
Does the talisman protect you from pain?
Listen for the feet as they pound the land to a tune of thunder
Watch as the legions ride again to a fate of death or torture
At the headless cross, at the headless cross
From the first evil night, when a black flash of light
Cut the crucifix half to the ground
Theres no escaping the power of satan
On a nation so brave and so proud
Listen for the feet as they pound the land to a tune of thunder
Watch as the legions ride again to a fate of death or torture, oh no, oh
At the headless cross, at the headless cross
At the headless cross, oh, at the headless cross
Where will you run to?
At the headless cross
Look, to the headless cross
song performed by by Black Sabbath

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Beast and Man in India
They killed a Child to please the Gods
In Earth's young penitence,
And I have bled in that Babe's stead
Because of innocence.
I bear the sins of sinful men
That have no sin of my own,
They drive me forth to Heaven's wrath
Unpastured and alone.
I am the meat of sacrifice,
The ransom of man's guilt,
For they give my life to the altar-knife
Wherever shrine is built.
The Goat.
Between the waving tufts of jungle-grass,
Up from the river as the twilight falls,
Across the dust-beclouded plain they pass
On to the village walls.
Great is the sword and mighty is the pen,
But over all the labouring ploughman's blade--
For on its oxen and its husbandmen
An Empire's strength is laid.
The Oxen.
The torn boughs trailing o'er the tusks aslant,
The saplings reeling in the path he trod,
Declare his might--our lord the Elephant,
Chief of the ways of God.
The black bulk heaving where the oxen pant,
The bowed head toiling where the guns careen,
Declare our might--our slave the Elephant,
And servant of the Queen.
The Elephant.
Dark children of the mere and marsh,
Wallow and waste and lea,
Outcaste they wait at the village gate
With folk of low degree.
Their pasture is in no man's land,
Their food the cattle's scorn;
Their rest is mire and their desire
The thicket and the thorn.
But woe to those that break their sleep,
And woe to those that dare
To rouse the herd-bull from his keep,
The wild boar from his lair!
Pigs and Buffaloes.
The beasts are very wise,
Their mouths are clean of lies,
They talk one to the other,
Bullock to bullock's brother
Resting after their labours,
Each in stall with his neighbours.
But man with goad and whip,
Breaks up their fellowship,
Shouts in their silky ears
Filling their soul with fears.
When he has ploughed the land,
He says: "They understand."
But the beasts in stall together,
Freed from the yoke and tether,
Say as the torn flanks smoke:
"Nay, 'twas the whip that spoke."
poem by Rudyard Kipling

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Have A Angel
i have a angel
that watches over me
she makes me feel safe
she helps me through the pain and hurt
she is my angel
that will always be by me side
even though i did wrong
she is still my gaurdian angel
she helped me be a better person
and get over the past
she is my angel
that will always be by my side
even though i did wrong
she is still my gaurdian angel
she is the light that guides me
through the darkness of the night
she is my angel
that will always watch over me
poem by Melissa Dixon

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mystical Light
Sweet breath of an angel
In perfect harmony and peace
As you glory in his presence
your rapture does increase
Touched by the aura from Heaven
spread around you from a child you grew
You can dwell upon that angel child
from the time that you were new
You rose on high so young and raw
from the depths of the earth
you came
Now you live in this heavenly place
that always stays the same
Tinkerbelle they call her
your little angel girl
she stays close by you always
For around you she will twirl
You are her angel Mother
She your child of light
Sleep now angel mother
I'll watch over you tonight
The touch of an angel is something
we all crave
The feeling that we are being protected
and watched over each day and night
gives us spiritual warmth.
I have met angels I think
I have felt their close embrace
their beauty their radiance
which is beyond comprehension
Yes I think I have felt an
angel hug
Yes I have felt their gentle kiss
for I have had my soul awakened
and my eyes opened to their presence
poem by Janice M Pickett

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Angel Fire
When you hear a sound
And see a star
Then take your love to me
Cause I love you
You lit the fire of an angel
Angel fire it is called
Angel fire it will remain
You are the angel that had came and lite my fire
You came to my life
When you see the moon go to sleep
And you hear the day break
Then you will see me by your side
And in the sun u see a light
Brighter than anything
It's my fire burning
The fire of an angel with burning love
Just angel fire in my heart.
poem by Hanko Poolman

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Fire Angel
When you hear a sound
And see a star
Then take your love to me
Cause I love you
You lit the fire of an angel
Angel fire it is called
Angel fire it will remain
You are the angel that had came and lite my fire
You came to my life
When you see the moon go to sleep
And you hear the day break
Then you will see me by your side
And in the sun u see a light
Brighter than anything
It's my fire burning
The fire of an angel with burning love
Just angel fire in my heart.
poem by Ricky Baker

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Angel
My angel,
my sleeping angel held me through the night
hands so soft
In my eyes, he brought light
Empty words he said to me,
of a possible future I'll never see
But somewhere, deep inside
I know my angel loves me,
with such caress
fire in every touch
And when he slept
soft light whispered across him
his face carved of stone, perfection in every feature
My Sleeping Angel,
The one
I have found you,
My Angel
poem by Jacquelyn Burge

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!