To The Garden The World
TO THE garden, the world, anew ascending,
Potent mates, daughters, sons, preluding,
The love, the life of their bodies, meaning and being,
Curious, here behold my resurrection, after slumber;
The revolving cycles, in their wide sweep, have brought me again,
Amorous, mature--all beautiful to me--all wondrous;
My limbs, and the quivering fire that ever plays through them, for
reasons, most wondrous;
Existing, I peer and penetrate still,
Content with the present--content with the past,
By my side, or back of me, Eve following, 10
Or in front, and I following her just the same.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Related quotes
Have You Ever Been?
Have you ever been
Tied to the past
Striving for the future
Yet stuck in a holocaust
Have you ever been
Living two lives
One in the past, hidden from all
One in the present, to show them all
Have you ever been
Loved so pure
To hold, is all you want to do
Yet you let go, for love is true
Have you ever been
Content! !
Content of the past and the present
Or do you see yourself linger, from one to the other end...
Have you ever been...?
Have you ever been...?
poem by Mien Bless
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I believe that the brain has evolved over millions of years to be responsive to different kinds of content in the world. Language content, musical content, spatial content, numerical content, etc.
quote by Howard Gardner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ecstasy
I am in front of this feminine land
Like a child in front of the fire
Smiling vaguely with tears in my eyes
In front of this land where all moves in me
Where mirrors mist where mirrors clear
Reflecting two nude bodies season on season
I’ve so many reasons to lose myself
On this road-less earth under horizon-less skies
Good reasons I ignored yesterday
And I’ll never ever forget
Good keys of gazes keys their own daughters
in front of this land where nature is mine
In front of the fire the first fire
Good mistress reason
Identified star
On earth under sky in and out of my heart
Second bud first green leaf
That the sea covers with sails
And the sun finally coming to us
I am in front of this feminine land
Like a branch in the fire.
poem by Paul Eluard
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Sons And Daughters
There's a place in the city they call the Archway
Where we rented three rooms for a dollar a day
and I worked semi-skilled at the capstans for years
And my wife was a good woman but the love disappeared
Sons and Daughters, Daughters and Sons
When a marriage goes down they're the loneliest ones
Sons and Daughters, Daughters and Sons
How I hope they can cope with the damage I've done
I found me a band, I went out on tour
So the kids wouldn't know I was with them no more
When they said, "Where's me dad?" She'd say, "He's a star!"
Oh if only stars knew what fools they all are.
Sons and Daughters, Daughters and Sons
When a marriage goes down they're the loneliest ones
Sons and Daughters, Daughters and Sons
How I hope they can cope with the damage I've done
I got a new contract, I got a new life
No more capstans for me and I've got a new wife
Sometimes she gets angry, says she wants a family
Then that nightmare returns like a ghost haunting me
Sons and Daughters, Daughters and Sons
When a marriage breaks up you're the loneliest ones
Sons and Daughters, Daughters and Sons
How I hope you all cope with the damage we done
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bareipani Waterfall Vavroovahana Patra
Bareipani waterfall looks beautiful;
Mind is delightful.
Second largest waterfall of India In Odisha entices tourists daily;
In Abhayaranya the waterfall lures poets, writers gaudily.
Tourists behold the beauty from a distance;
The wondrous spectacle provides pleasure, appreciate God’s creation desire it is bliss.
Bareipani flows naturally;
Poet enjoys the beauty enthusiastically.
Wondrous waterfall provides pleasure;
Melodious Beauty plays in the lap of Nature.
Beauteous is the high mountain;
Tourist’s mind enthuses beholding the fountain.
Poet beholds the beauty amazingly;
Mind remains in the world of peace gleefully.
Abhayaranya is wondrous;
Allures tourists, with pleasure.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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The First Light
The sun rose in all of its glory for all of us to see
But alas, the hustle and bustle of everyday life
Made us miss this wondrous show of beautiful light
Tomorrow may never come you see
So open the shades to the beautiful light
And remember who put this there for us to see
Can you imagine complete darkness
With no wondrous beauty from nature away from our sight
Please people, take time out to see this wondrous light
Before you fade and see the final light coming from our Savior.
poem by Bruce Horaz
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Sons & Daughters
(ian hunter)
Theres a place in the city they call the archway
Where we rented three rooms for a dollar a day
And I worked semi-skilled at the capstans for years
And my wife was a good woman but the love disappeared
Sons and daughters, daughters and sons
When a marriage goes down theyre the loneliest ones
Sons and daughters, daughters and sons
How I hope they can cope with the damage Ive done
I found me a band, I went out on tour
So the kids wouldnt know I was with them no more
When they said, wheres me dad? shed say, hes a star!
Oh if only stars knew what fools they all are.
Sons and daughters, daughters and sons
When a marriage goes down theyre the loneliest ones
Sons and daughters, daughters and sons
How I hope they can cope with the damage Ive done
I got a new contract, I got a new life
No more capstans for me and Ive got a new wife
Sometimes she gets angry, says she wants a family
Then that nightmare returns like a ghost haunting me
Sons and daughters, daughters and sons
When a marriage breaks up youre the loneliest ones
Sons and daughters, daughters and sons
How I hope you all cope with the damage we done
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Two Locks Of Hair. From The German Of Pfeizer
A Youth, light-hearted and content,
I wander through the world
Here, Arab-like, is pitched my tent
And straight again is furled.
Yet oft I dream, that once a wife
Close in my heart was locked,
And in the sweet repose of life
A blessed child I rocked.
I wake! Away that dream,--away!
Too long did it remain!
So long, that both by night and day
It ever comes again.
The end lies ever in my thought;
To a grave so cold and deep
The mother beautiful was brought;
Then dropt the child asleep.
But now the dream is wholly o'er,
I bathe mine eyes and see;
And wander through the world once more,
A youth so light and free.
Two locks--and they are wondrous fair--
Left me that vision mild;
The brown is from the mother's hair,
The blond is from the child.
And when I see that lock of gold,
Pale grows the evening-red;
And when the dark lock I behold,
I wish that I were dead.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Cooney Potter
I inherited forty acres from my Father
And, by working my wife, my two sons and two daughters
From dawn to dusk, I acquired
A thousand acres. But not content,
Wishing to own two thousand acres,
I bustled through the years with axe and plow,
Toiling, denying myself, my wife, my sons, my daughters.
Squire Higbee wrongs me to say
That I died from smoking Red Eagle cigars.
Eating hot pie and gulping coffee
During the scorching hours of harvest time
Brought me here ere I had reached my sixtieth year.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Beautiful
Beautiful is the rising sun
that touches the dark world
glowing red hot,
like a coal from the fire
of the gods
Beautiful is the crystal blue sky
that stretches to the horizon,
with its purity and brings serenity
to every living thing.
Beautiful is the yellow moon
that awakens dreams,
of how wondrous
life on this earth
really is.
Beautiful is a wave
crashing over a rocky shore,
that sprays the intensity
and mysteries of nature
on the earth.
Yet all of these things
fade away into insignificance
against the smile on your face
and nothing can describe,
the light and expression
in your golden eyes.
You are far more
than beautiful to me
and no white Lily
or dark red Rose,
will ever hold
the same significance
that you bring to me.
When all is said and done
my life is completely empty
when you’re gone,
but when you are with me
life plays like the sweetest melody
and my greatest gift from life is you.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Frame Work
The Present is a precious rug
under which, with care, we sweep,
the Past that few desire undug, -
but through weft warped heaped dust must seep...
Though some may carp while others pet,
the end result remains the same,
those past forgot, those left forget,
pick up the pieces of the game
Life plays with Death, as unpaid debt
and credit balance out to tame
ambitions high whose overthrow
comes when sun’s zenith blinds to shame, -
alike pride, selflessness, and show,
bluff, bluster, submission, lofty aim,
both fear of here and of hereafter,
present tears, and present laughter,
oblivion snuffs all (t) race of fame,
and fossil light frame who will know –
or what – when swallowed every name
by Time whose rhymes and reasons flow
into forgetfullness or flame,
no sentience left to explain
how seasons come and seasons go.
The Present is a rug which, precious, held,
reels on towards a future film withheld,
and though we’d sweep the Past’s dead dust beneath,
it filters through, preparing our own wreath.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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It Comes Straight From The Heart
Wondrous deeds,
I am old and grey-headed;
But my mind is ready to teach you,
And like the rain on the mown grass.
Mow, cow, tow, bow, now, how?
And like sons and the daughters of the needy!
Low row, sow, vow, wow, yow;
But true-love come straight from the heart.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Thule, the Period of Cosmography
Thule, the period of cosmography,
Doth vaunt of Hecla, whose sulphureous fire
Doth melt the frozen clime and thaw the sky;
Trinacrian Etna's flames ascend not higher:
These things seem wondrous, yet more wondrous I,
Whose heart with fear doth freeze, with love doth fry.
The Andalusian merchant, that returns
Laden with cochineal and china dishes,
Reports in Spain how strangely Fogo burns
Amidst an ocean full of flying fishes:
These things seem wondrous, yet more wondrous I,
Whose heart with fear doth freeze, with love doth fry.
poem by Thomas Weelkes
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Bess
A dress that speaks of life,
The frayed edges hang like bar codes
Spelling out her past.
Bess was content.
Her flowing auburn hair a distant memory,
Now replaced by black and white,
The colours of her age.
Bess was content.
Half way down her nose her glasses sat,
With flour coated fingerprint etched lenses
Betraying this morning's cooking
Bess was still content
Soft slippers now where once heels were worn,
Her stoop a testament to such fashion
The hips a little broader now,
Bess was still content.
Here she was, all that she could be,
A wife, a mother, a nurse, a listener, a lover
But all the time that dress said more than that
Bess was still content
Then in the background voices came to life,
Such laughter only youngsters make,
The door flies open 'Mum we are home! '
Bess just smiled that smile... so content.
poem by Dave James
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When I look back, the Garden is a dream to me. It was surpassingly beautiful, and now it is lost, and I shall not see it anymore. The Garden is lost, but I have found him, and am content.
Mark Twain in The Diaries of Adam and Eve (1904)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Love - Mad And Mature
Mad love leads to terrorism
Mature love gets to Gandhism
Mad love makes one wicked
Mature love makes life sublime
Mad love kindles body
Mature love ennobles the soul
Mad love binds the spirit
Mature love releases the bond
Mad loves brings pain
Mature love provides pleasure
Mad love breeds acrimony
Mature love brings harmony
Mad love hinders progress
Mature love helps success
Discard mad love, develop mature love
Make life pleasant and world a happy house!
poem by Subbaraman N V
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Seeing you makes my heart burn and I stop the world revolving
Seeing you my love my heart begins to burn and burn and burn
Unstoppable to fire
I pause and look at you and take a hard look at you some more
You are simply beautiful!
So beautiful to behold in my burning burning burning heart
Unstoppable to fire
I take another hard look
I stop the world revolving
To see you again and again and my heart burns and burns and burns
Till I am consumed
Looking
Just the mere idea of looking at you
You look at me
Our eyes meet
I am speechless
And look away to the other side of dangling things
The world revolves again and I with it
Leaving you because you can never be with me
In this
Revolution
Meanwhile you wonder why the place where our eyes just met smells ash
I said something just burned sometime somewhere perhaps last night or so
And so
You will never ever know
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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38
Seeing you my love my heart begins to burn and burn and burn
Unstoppable to fire
I pause and look at you and take a hard look at you some more
You are simply beautiful!
So beautiful to behold in my burning burning burning heart
Unstoppable to fire
I take another hard look
I stop the world revolving
To see you again and again and my heart burns and burns and burns
Till I am consumed
Looking
Just the mere idea of looking at you
You look at me
Our eyes meet
I am speechless
And look away to the other side of dangling things
The world revolves again and I with it
Leaving you because you can never be with me
In this
Revolution
Meanwhile you wonder why the place where our eyes just met smells ash
I said something just burned sometime somewhere perhaps last night or so
And so
You will never ever know
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Hate You!
I hate you for giving me hope in this life
when all there is, is despair.
I hate you for giving me this strife
and making the world seem so unfair.
I hate you forever wanting and letting
me know such happiness.
I hate you for leaving me to feel
the worst loneliness.
I hate you for telling me lies when i believe all
that you said
I hate you for letting me DIE
as i lay helpless in my bed.
I hate you for holding my hand
when it swung content by my side.
I hate you for EXISTING in this land
where we must coincide.
i hate you for smiling on a dreary day
when my frown is seen through the haze.
I hate you for letting come what may when
you could of stopped it in so many ways.
I hate you for saying YOU LOVE ME
when i asked you not to say it back.
I hate you for letting me see our relationship
CRACK!
I Hate you for not letting me hear
the cruel things you say when im not there.
I hate you for not letting me near
when my soul i need to bare.
I hate you for giving me a glance
when i think i look beautiful.
I HATE YOU 4 THE SECOND CHANCE
that left me incredibly hopeful.
I HATE YOU 4 NOT HEARING ME OUT
when i want to BEG AND PLEAD.
I hate you for making me doubt my opinion
to which i pay heed.
I hate you for all the things you said
that made me most content.
I hate you for turning my head beacuse
I still think your a GOD-SEND
I HATE YOU FOR THIS EXCRUCIATING PAIN I BARELY
ENDURE EVERY NIGHT.
i hate you for the constant rain my soul must fight.
i hate you for being there so now im doomed
to MISS & REMEMBER.
I hate you for giving me a reason to CARE.
what happened back in September?
I hate you for saying GOOD-BYE and leaving
me not knowing what to do.
But most of all
I hate you for letting me CRY
'cuase i can't have you!
poem by Aleisha Luyt
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Between Two Worlds
Parting for Australia.
HERE sitting by the fire
I aspire, love, I aspire--
Not to that 'other world' of your fond dreams,
But one as nigh and nigher,
Compared to which your real, unreal seems.
Together as to-night
In our light, love, in our light
Of reunited joy appears no shade:
From this our hope's reached height
All things are possible and level made.
Therefore we sit and view--
I and you, love, I and you--
That wondrous valley o'er southern seas,
Where in a country new
You will make for me a sweet nest of ease;
Where I, your poor tired bird,
(Nothing stirred? Love, nothing stirred?)
May fold her wings and be no more distrest:
Where troubles may be heard
Like outside winds at night which deepen rest.
Where in green pastures wide
We'll abide, love, we'll abide,
And keep content our patriarchal flocks,
Till at our aged side
Leap our young brown-faced shepherds of the rocks.
Ah, tale that's easy told!
(Hold my hand, love, tighter hold.)
What if this face of mine, which you think fair--
If it should ne'er grow old,
Nor matron cap cover this maiden hair?
What if this silver ring
(Loose it clings, love, yet does cling
Should ne'er be changed for any other? nay,
This very hand I fling.
About your neck should--Hush! to-day's to-day:
To-morrow is--ah, whose?
You'll not lose, love, you'll not lose
This hand I pledged, if never a wife's hand
For tender household use
Led by your fearless into a far, far land.
Kiss me and do not grieve;
I believe, love, I believe
That He who holds the measure of our days,
And did thus strangely weave
Our opposite lives together, to His praise--
He never will divide
Us so wide, love, us so wide:
But will, whate'er befalls us, clearly show
That those in Him allied
In life or death are nearer than they know.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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