Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: XIII
A second warning, nor unheeded. Yet
The thought appealed to me as no strange thing,
Pure though I was, that love impure had set
Its seal on that fair woman in her Spring.
Her broken beauty did not mar her grace
In form or spirit. Nay, it rather moved.
It seemed a natural thing for that gay face
It should have known and suffered and been loved.
It kindled in me, too, to view it thus,
A mood of daring which was more than mine,
And made my shamefaced heart leap valorous,
And fired its courage to a zeal divine.
All this, in one short instant, as I gazed
Into her eyes, admiring, yet amazed.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Related quotes
I Loved You Once
I loved you once, with all my heart, my spirit, body, soul...
I loved you once, with all not part, with marriage as my goal...
I loved you once, with all my strength, as if I were on fire...
I loved you once, with all at length, as if love meant desire...
I loved you once, with all my dreams, which came by day and night...
I loved you once, with all extremes spent on this one delight...
I loved you once, with all God gave, with passion borne of joy...
I loved you once, with all to save romance and not some ploy...
I loved you once, with love divine, not holding back a thing...
I loved you once, with love benign that caused my heart to sing...
I loved you once, with happiness no other man has known...
I loved you once, with prayers to bless yet now I pray alone...
I loved you once, with each embrace, until the day you died...
I loved you once, with all God's grace yet now what sighs are sighed.
poem by Denis Martindale
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Purity 1
I love woman
I do sex
I drink alcohol
And I declare myself
An impure poet.
Purity?
What is it
And where
Tell me a pure thing.
Lovers do sex in a resort
Teachers are homo
They do sex with their boys
in hostel
Priests do sex
with their nuns
But ask people
Be pure, be pure
Cuz, God is pure.
Tell me
where is that woman
Who has never tasted a man
A man
Who has never licked
cave of a woman
A woman
Who has not gave birth
to anyone
A man
Who has not sown seeds
inside a woman.
poem by Devil Poet
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Amoretti III: The Sovereign Beauty
The sovereign beauty which I do admire,
Witness the world how worthy to be praised:
The light whereof hath kindled heavenly fire
In my frail spirit, by her from baseness raised;
That being now with her huge brightness dazed,
Base thing I can no more endure to view;
But looking still on her, I stand amazed
At wondrous sight of so celestial hue.
So when my tongue would speak her praises due,
It stopped is with thought's astonishment:
And when my pen would write her titles true,
It ravish'd is with fancy's wonderment:
Yet in my heart I then both speak and write
The wonder that my wit cannot endite.
poem by Edmund Spenser
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Goodbye To You
Of all the things I believe in
I just want to get it over with
tears from behind my eyes
but I do not cry
Counting the days that past me by
I've been searching deep down in my soul
Words that I'm hearing are starting to get old
Looks like I'm starting all over again
The last three years were just pretend and I say
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew
You were the one I love
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
I still get lost in your eyes
And it seems like I can't live a day without you
Closing my eyes till you chase my thoughts away
To a place where I am blinded by the light but it's not right
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
Ohhh yeah
It hurts to want everything and nothing at the same time
I want whats yours and I want whats mine
I want you but I'm not giving in this time
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
We the stars fall and I lie awake
Your my shooting star
song performed by by Michelle Branch from Spirit Room
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bonie Wee Thing
Wishfully I look and languish
In that bonie face o' thine,
And my heart it sounds wi' anguish,
Lest my wee thing be na mine.
[Chorus] Bonie wee thing, cannie wee thing,
Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine,
I wad wear thee in my bosom,
Lest my jewel it should tine.
Wit and Grace, and Love, and Beauty,
In ae constellation shine;
To adore thee in my duty,
Goddess o' this soul o' mine!
[Chorus]
poem by Robert Burns
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Bonie Wee Thing, The
Chorus:- Bonie wee thing, cannie wee thing,
Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine,
I wad wear thee in my bosom,
Lest my jewel it should tine.
Wishfully I look and languish
In that bonie face o' thine,
And my heart it sounds wi' anguish,
Lest my wee thing be na mine.
[Chorus]
Wit and Grace, and Love, and Beauty,
In ae constellation shine;
To adore thee in my duty,
Goddess o' this soul o' mine!
[Chorus]
poem by Robert Burns
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Remembering Sunshine
Her hair was like sunlight,
framing a face that could only
have belonged to an Angel.
Perfectly formed brows hovered
over chocolate brown eyes that
sparkled with the excitement of
youth, and the promise of possibilities.
Her willowy form moved with a languid
grace that few achieve in a lifetime;
borne from the confidence that life was
endless, and she had much to do... much to be.
And while the outside 'package' that
she presented to the world was most appealing,
it could never begin to match the beauty
that lived inside of her.
Her heart was generous, and giving;
her humor and wit, a constant delight.
Her gift for putting words to paper
that could shake one to the very core
of their soul, was immense.
But her spirit...
oh, her beautiful spirit,
was what made her the joy
that she was; and that spirit
gave us another attribute
to love about her, before it
was all said, and done.
She was a true 'hero, ' in every
sense of that word. She fought
the most cruel battle of her life,
and did it with humor, and dignity,
and a concern for those around her;
it hurt her to think that those who
loved her were suffering, as they watched.
Her name was Sunshine; quite befitting
the young woman she became, and although
with us for such a short time, she is forever
in our minds, and the memory of
who she was, and what she gave,
will forever be etched upon our hearts.
In loving memory of Sunshine Joy Curtis
May 23,1980-Feb 6,2001
poem by Silent Soliloquy
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Wild Thing
Wild thing
You made the boys spring
You made everything expensive
Spend it, spend it, wild thing
Theres hardly a man left around that you havent sought out
Theres hardly a dress shop in town that you havent bought out
In case youre wondering why the hair salon wouldnt take you
Theres hardly a woman left in any state that doesnt hate you
Wild thing
You made the boys spring
You made everything expensive
Spend it, spend it, wild thing
Its truly awesome
When she was younger she thought her mother had missed her calling
And she, in turn, thought that her daughters conduct was appalling
After each date she had the boys, went home and dreamed of spiders
She never fell for any man who wasnt rich as midas
Wild thing
You made the boys spring
You made everything expensive
Spend it, spend it, wild thing
Its truly awesome
If theres a lesson to be learned then Im sure I dont know it
Weve all been waiting twenty years to see her finally blow it
But as far as I can tell shes happy, rich, and worry-free
And thats a hell of a lot more than I can say for me
Wild thing
You made the boys spring
You made everything expensive
Spend it, spend it wild thing
Wild thing
You made your heart sing
You bought everything you wanted
Spend it, spend it, wild thing
It was truly awesome
Thats my girl, go baby!
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A New Love
(dave loggins)
Loves the only thing I know in this life
Thats cut me deeper than the sharpest knife
And once again here I am and Im paying the price for a new love
I still hurt the one I lost
Standing here on a bridge that I cant get across
And I cant burn but I will when I walk with a new love
Chorus:
I believe
Its gonna be better then ever before
Thats why Im looking for
A new love
For this old heart
A new love
And I just cant wait to start
I wanna feel that way again
Oh when I find a new love
For this old heart of mine
Say Im looking for a new love
Somebody tell me where I find a new love
For this old heart of mine
Loves the only thing thats ever made me cry
Nothings ever made me feel more alive
Thats why once again here I am
Looking for the eyes of a new love
I know that somewhere in this world tonight
Theres a guy (she goes high on this part and I have no clue what she
Says)
Id even look if I thought I might find a new love
Repeat chorus x2
Oh Im looking for a new love
For this old heart of mine
Oh Im looking for a new love
For this old heart of mine
Say I need a new love
For this old heart of mine
Oh Im looking for a new love
Somebody tell me where Ill find
For this old heart of mine
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Secrete Beauty
She was not blessed with comely grace,
spurned and shunned by cupids arrows
because of her displeasing face
and breasts like kneecaps on a sparrow.
Her scrawny frame one could infer
if dressed in red and eyed sideways
she'd mimic a thermometer;
no outward grace to be displayed.
Her real beauty was deep inside
hidden behind two large, brown eyes
where a beautiful soul resides
eternally and undisguised.
Beauty is a skin-deep grace
it's just a temporary thing:
a short-term asset on a face
that fades away like this years spring.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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In A Sentimental Mood
In a sentimental mood
I can see the stars come through my room
While your loving attitude
Is like a flame that lights the gloom
On the wings of every kiss
Drifts a melody so strange and sweet
In this sentimental bliss
You make my paradise complete
Rose petals seem to fall
Its all I could dream to call you mine
My hearts a lighter thing
Since you made this night a thing divine
In a sentimental mood
Im within a world so heavenly
For I never dreamt that youd be loving sentimental me
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Meg's Curse
The sun rode high in a cloudless sky
Of a perfect summer morn.
She stood and gazed out into the street,
And wondered why she was born.
On the topmost branch of a maple-tree
That close by the window grew,
A robin called to his mate enthralled:
'I love but you, but you, but you.'
A soft look came in her hardened face-
She had not wept for years;
But the robin's trill, as some sounds will,
Jarred open the door of tears.
She thought of the old home far away;
She heard the whir-r-r of the mill;
She heard the turtle's wild, sweet call,
And the wail of the whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will.
She saw again that dusty road
Whence he came riding down;
She smelled once more the flower she wore
In the breast of her simple gown.
Out on the new-mown meadow she heard
Two blue-jays quarrel and fret,
And the warning cry of a Phoebe bird:
'More wet, more wet, more wet.'
With a blithe 'hello' to the men below
Who were spreading the new-mown hay,
The rider drew rein at her window-pane-
How it all came back to-day!
How young she was, and how fair she was;
What innocence crowned her brow!
The future seemed fair, for Love was there-
And now-and now-and now.
In a dingy glass on the wall near by
She gazed on her faded face.
'Well, Meg, I declare, what a beauty you are?'
She sneered, 'What an angel of grace!
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!
What a thing of beauty and grace!'
She reached out her arms with a moaning sob:
'Oh, if I could go back!'
Then, swift and strange, came a sudden change;
Her brow grew hard and black.
'A curse on the day and a curse on that man,
And on all who are his,' she cried.
'May he starve and be cold, may he live to be old
When all who loved him have died.'
Her wild voice frightened the robin away
From the branch by the window-sill;
And little he knew as away he flew,
Of the memories stirred by his trill.
He called to his mate on the grass below,
'Follow me,' as he soared on high;
And as mates have done since the world begun
She followed, and asked not why.
The dingy room seemed curtained with gloom;
Meg shivered with nameless dread.
The ghost of her youth and her murdered truth
Seemed risen up from the dead.
She hurried out into the noisy street,
For the silence made her afraid;
To flee from thought was all she sought,
She cared not whither she strayed.
Still on she pressed in her wild unrest
Up avenues skirting the park,
Where fashion's throng moved gayly along
In Vanity Fair-when hark!
A clatter of hoofs down the stony street,
The snort of a frightened horse
That was running wild, and a laughing child
At play in its very course.
With one swift glance Meg saw it all.
'His child-my God! his child!'
She cried aloud, as she rushed through the crowd
Like one grown suddenly wild.
There, almost under the iron feet,
Hemmed in by a passing cart,
Stood the baby boy-the pride and joy
Of the man who had broken her heart.
Past swooning women and shouting men
She fled like a flash of light;
With her slender arm she gathered from harm
The form of the laughing sprite.
The death-shod feet of the mad horse beat
Her down on the pavings gray;
But the baby laughed out with a merry shout,
And thought it splendid play.
He pulled her gown and called to her: 'Say,
Dit up and do dat some more,
Das jus'ze way my papa play
Wiz me on ze nursery floor.'
When the frightened father reached the scene,
His boy looked up and smiled
From the stiffening fold of the arm, death-cold,
Of Meg, who had died for his child.
Oh! idle words are a woman's curse
Who loves a woman can;
For put to the test, she will bare her breast
And die for the sake of the man.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Nameless
Pathetic (benign)
Accept it (undermined)
Your opinion (your justification)
Happy (State)
Servent (hate)
Malice (heart of weakness)
No toleration
Invade (kill me)
Enraged (in minutes)
Don't condescend (don't neither disagree)
Decide (decay)
Dissapoint (delay)
You suffered then, now suffer under me.
Obsession, take another look.
Remember, every debt you took.
Decide, you live with me
Or give up - i thought you want to be free
(don't go) i never wanted any body more then i wanted you
(i know) the only thing i ever really loved, was hate.
Why do i (feel) anything, (guess)
Anyway (fall) anybody (will), anybody (kill me)
I want (you) i need (you) i love (you)
I won't (let any body have you)
Obey (me) believe (me) just trust (me)
Worship (me) uniform (me)
Be greatful (now) be honest (now)
Be precious (now) be mine (deserve me)
Possesion (feed my only faith)
Confession (i wont tell you twice)
Desert (make life for me)
Or give up - i thought you want to be free.
(don't go) i never wanted any body more then i wanted you
(i know) the only thing i ever really loved, was hurting you.
(don't go) i never wanted any body more then i wanted you
(i know) the only thing i ever really loved, was hate.
(yeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaahhhhhh)
Stay inside the hole, let me take control. (don't let it)
You were nothing more, you were something less (innocent)
Something i still get, something i've to break. (all that's precious)
Fingers on your skin, let me salvage it. (you deserve it)
YOU DESERVE IT.
YOU DESERVE IT.
YOU DESERVE IT.
YOU DESERVE IT.
(don't go) i never wanted any body more then i wanted you (i wanted you)
(i know) the only thing i ever really loved, was hurting you. (was hurting you)
(don't go) i never wanted any body more then i wanted you (i wanted you)
(i know) the only thing i ever really loved, was hate.
You're mine (you are you are)
You're mine (you are you are)
You're mine
YOU'RE MINE
song performed by by Slipknot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I Want To See Beauty
When I want to see beauty I need not travel far
Not even for a short drive in a car
Outside my window on flowering callistemon tree
A natural thing of beauty there to see.
The new holland honeyeater in his dark and gold
A bird of beauty lovely to behold
He chirrups loud amongst the leafy bowers
And take his fill of nectar from the flowers.
When I want beauty all I have to do
Is walk near my home down shady avenue
Where white backed magpie on the tall gum sing
In Nature beauty is a natural thing.
For beauty money I don't have to pay
Or purchase flight ticket to far away
At night I see it in the starry sky
A thing of beauty is a thing of joy.
And the finest of beauty you don't pay to see
Like a red rosella on a sunlit tree
In Nature's garden living wild and free
And you won't see any prettier than he.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Abnormal Is Not Courage
The Poles rode out from Warsaw against the German
Tanks on horses. Rode knowing, in sunlight, with sabers,
A magnitude of beauty that allows me no peace.
And yet this poem would lessen that day. Question
The bravery. Say it's not courage. Call it a passion.
Would say courage isn't that. Not at its best.
It was impossib1e, and with form. They rode in sunlight,
Were mangled. But I say courage is not the abnormal.
Not the marvelous act. Not Macbeth with fine speeches.
The worthless can manage in public, or for the moment.
It is too near the whore's heart: the bounty of impulse,
And the failure to sustain even small kindness.
Not the marvelous act, but the evident conclusion of being.
Not strangeness, but a leap forward of the same quality.
Accomplishment. The even loyalty. But fresh.
Not the Prodigal Son, nor Faustus. But Penelope.
The thing steady and clear. Then the crescendo.
The real form. The culmination. And the exceeding.
Not the surprise. The amazed understanding. The marriage,
Not the month's rapture. Not the exception. The beauty
That is of many days. Steady and clear.
It is the normal excellence, of long accomplishment.
poem by Jack Gilbert
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After our Likeness.
Before me now a little picture lies—
A little shadow of a childish face,
Childishly sweet, yet with the dawning grace
Of thought and wisdom on her lips and eyes.
Fair, oval, broad-brow'd face—small, delicate head—
Transparent skin, with blue veins shining through—
All the soft outlines, beautiful and true,
Bring me the echo of the words “God said.”
Made “in our image”—sure 'tis that we see,
God's likeness, in the fair face of a child,
By the world's sin and passion undefiled—
Ay, as I look, it seems quite plain to me.
The light wherein the little features shine,
Strange, mystic light, so undefined and faint,
So far too pure for any words to paint—
'Tis a reflection of the Face divine.
Some day the earthly shadows will be cast
Across that sunshine—it may be to dim
A while the visible countenance of Him;
But 'twill be there—the likeness—to the last.
Some day the lucid waters, in which lie
Pictured those glorious lineaments, will be
Stirred up and troubled like a stormy sea;—
But they will yet re-settle—by-and-by.
They will re-settle when the soul is still'd,
Its passions, its wild longings, and its pain;
The pure reflection will shine out again
When earth's hopes are relinquish'd, unfulfill'd.
They will re-settle in those after-years
When life's hard lessons have been conned and learn'd;
Then this child's beauty will have all return'd,
More lovely for the trouble and the tears.
They will re-settle in the calm of death,
When the sweet eyes are laid asleep, and when
The heart is hush'd. Truly God's likeness then—
The mirror clear, unsullied by a breath.
Ah! while I look, and trace each tender line,
I think most of the day when I shall see
The dear face in that perfect purity,
Its mortal features clothed with the divine.
This self-same face, but with the image bright,
Nevermore undefined, and faint, and dim;
This self-same face, yet like the face of Him,
In glory and in beauty infinite.
poem by Ada Cambridge
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O Woman What Beauty
O woman what beauty I have seen in thee.
Who's beauty and grace delivers but tranquillity.
What face at birth could deliver such joy.
And through the years does most kind I employ.
God made man in his image, but woman he made in his dreams.
Though with woman, man still lives in Eden it would seem.
For woman are natural mothers, beautiful fruit to behold,
if it were not for a woman a man's history would not be told.
So through all of life's stages from young, middle aged, and old;
as a man I say O woman what beauty I see in thee, so forever,
may it unfold.
poem by Robert K. Allison III
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Art
She stood a vision vestureless and fair,
Glowing the canvas with her orient grace:
A goddess grave she stood, with such a face
As in Elysium the immortals wear.
But some, unworthy, as they pondered there,
Cold to the marvel of her look divine—
Saw but a form undraped, in Beauty's shrine.
Then she, it seemed, rebuked them: "Old and
young
Have worshiped at the temple where I breathe,
And deathless laurels, for my sake, enwreathe
The brows of him from whose pure thought I
sprung:
Lips consecrate as yours his praise have sung,—
Who neither sued for praise nor courted ease,
But reverently wrought, as from his knees.
"No raiment can the base or mean reclaim,
And that which sacred is must sacred be,
Clothed but in rags or robed in modesty.
In the endeavor still is felt the aim:
The workman may by skill exalt his name,
But, toiling fault and failure to redeem,
Cannot create what's loftier than his dream!
"For chaste must be the soul that chastely sees,
The thought enlightened, and the insight sure
That separates the pure from the impure;
And who Earth's humblest faith from error frees,
Awakening ideal sympathies,
Uplifts the savage from his kindred sod;
Who shows him beauty speaks to him of God!"
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Realisation
Hers was a lonely, shadowed lot;
Or so the unperceiving thought,
Who looked no deeper than her face,
Devoid of chiselled lines of grace –
No farther than her humble grate,
And wondered how she bore her fate.
Yet she was neither lone nor sad;
So much of love her spirit had,
She found an ever-flowing spring
Of happiness in everything.
So near to her was Nature’s heart
It seemed a very living part
Of her own self; and bud and blade,
And heat and cold, and sun and shade,
And dawn and sunset, Spring and Fall,
Held raptures for her, one and all.
The year’s four changing seasons brought
To her own door what thousands sought
In wandering ways and did not find –
Diversion and content of mind.
She loved the tasks that filled each day –
Such menial duties; but her way
Of looking at them lent a grace
To things the world deemed commonplace.
Obscure and without place or name,
She gloried in another’s fame.
Poor, plain and humble in her dress,
She thrilled when beauty and success
And wealth passed by, on pleasure bent;
They made earth seem so opulent.
Yet none of quicker sympathy,
When need or sorrow came, than she.
And so she lived, and so she died.
She woke as from a dream. How wide
And wonderful the avenue
That stretched to her astonished view!
And up the green ascending lawn
A palace caught the rays of dawn.
Then suddenly the silence stirred
With one clear keynote of a bird;
A thousand answered, till ere long
The air was quivering bits of song.
She rose and wandered forth in awe,
Amazed and moved by all she saw,
For, like so many souls who go
Away from earth, she did not know
The cord was severed.
Down the street,
With eager arms stretched forth to greet,
Came one she loved and mourned in youth;
Her mother followed; then the truth
Broke on her, golden wave on wave,
Of knowledge infinite. The grave,
The body and the earthly sphere
Were gone! Immortal life was here!
They led her through the Palace halls;
From gleaming mirrors on the walls
She saw herself, with radiant mien,
And robed in splendour like a queen,
While glory round about her shone.
‘All this, ’ Love murmured, ‘is your own.’
And when she gazed with wondering eye,
And questioned whence and where and why,
Love answered thus: ‘All Heaven is made
By thoughts on earth; your walls were laid,
Year after year, of purest gold;
The beauty of your mind behold
In this fair palace; ay, and more
Waits farther on, so vast your store.
I was not worthy when I died
To take my place here at your side;
I toiled through long and weary years
From lower planes to these high spheres;
And through the love you sent from earth
I have attained a second birth.
Oft when my erring soul would tire
I felt the strength of your desire;
I heard you breathe my name in prayer,
And courage conquered weak despair.
Ah! earth needs heaven, but heaven indeed
Of earth has just as great a need!
Across the terrace with a bound
There sped a lambkin with a hound
(Dumb comrades of the old earth land)
And fondled her caressing hand.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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A Forecast
What days await this woman, whose strange feet
Breathe spells, whose presence makes men dream like wine,
Tall, free and slender as the forest pine,
Whose form is moulded music, through whose sweet
Frank eyes I feel the very heart's least beat,
Keen, passionate, full of dreams and fire:
How in the end, and to what man's desire
Shall all this yield, whose lips shall these lips meet?
One thing I know: if he be great and pure,
This love, this fire, this beauty shall endure;
Triumph and hope shall lead him by the palm:
But if not this, some differing thing he be,
That dream shall break in terror; he shall see
The whirlwind ripen, where he sowed the calm.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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