Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: XXV
My childhood, then, had passed a mystery
Shrouded by death, my boyhood a shut thing.
The passion of my soul as it grew free
With growing youth, a bird with broken wing,
Knew nothing of its strength to dare or do,
Or, if it dreamed of battle still to come,
That was its secret hidden in the blue
Of life's great vault of tears which was its doom,
A duty of revenge some day for blood.
Enough! You know I held me from the press
To whom base things are nothing, that I stood
Parted from this world's weekday wickedness
By a whole legend of romance sublime,
Perhaps by the dead virtue of a crime.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Heart Of Stone
A broken wing, and a broken bone
Of a bird, that met a stone
Lied helpless And was bit despair
Looked above If god was there.
Short of food And short of breath
Was silently waiting For his death
Asked his wings If they could fly.
Yes they said why don't you try
He gathered his strength and wiped his tears.
And soon he stood Without his fears
His eyes stared at the Dark blue sky
But just then when he was about to fly
they grabbed his neck they grabbed it hard
with all his strength he could move a yard
and yes those hands did hurt his bone
he had met a heart of stone
some ugly hands and a beautiful bird.
He cried for help But no one heard.
His wings were flawed And his muscles were stiff.
He begged them to throw him off a cliff
oh dumb bird, don't you get,
look at you, it's a stone you met.
To this, the half dead bird replied
So what, if I die
Just for once I ll meet the air.
And also see if god was there.
Stories of wisdom, that were once told
But now this world had been so cold.
He wished if those blind eyes could see.
The bird was dead though his soul was free.
poem by Kanav Justa
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His Youth
Dying? I am not dying. Are you mad?
You think I need to ask for heavenly grace?
\I\ think \you\ are a fiend, who would be glad
To see me struggle in death's cold embrace.
'But, man you lie! for I am strong-in truth
Stronger than I have been in years; and soon
I shall feel young again as in my youth,
My glorious youth-life's one great priceless boon.
'O youth, youth, youth! O God, that golden time,
When proud and glad I laughed the hours away.
Why, there's no sacrifice (perhaps no crime)
I'd pause at, could it make me young to-day.
'But I'm not \old\! I grew-just ill, somehow;
Grew stiff of limb, and weak, and dim of sight.
It was but sickness. I am better now,
Oh, vastly better, ever since last night.
'And I could weep warm floods of happy tears
To think my strength is coming back at last,
For I have dreamed of such an hour for years,
As I lay thinking of my glorious past.
'You shake your head? Why, man, if you were sane
I'd strike you to my feet, I would, in truth.
How dare you tell me that my hopes are vain?
How dare you say I have outlived my youth?
''In heaven I may regain it?' Oh, be still!
I want no heaven but what my glad youth gave.
Its long, bright hours, its rapture and its thrill-
O youth, youth, youth! it is my \youth\ I crave.
'There is no heaven! There's nothing but a deep
And yawning grave from which I shrink in fear.
I am not sure of even rest or sleep;
Perhaps we lie and \think\, as I have here.
'Think, think, think, think, as we lie there and rot,
And hear the young above us laugh in glee.
How dare you say I'm dying! \I am not\.
I would curse God if such a thing could be.
'Why, see me stand! why, hear this strong, full breath-
Dare you repeat that silly, base untruth?'
A cry-a fall-the silence known as death
Hushed his wild words. Well, has he found his youth?
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Our Secret
If your embarrassed to be seen with me.
I will not tell a soul of the love we share.
As long as I am with you, I do not care.
I know I am not the prize that makes up most other guys.
Our secret shrouded in disguise.
I wouldn't care if no one knew.
The hidden passion between us two.
It's our little secret,
the speacial times we share.
When we are together,
there hardly is a care.
Our secret passion burns so bright.
Hopefully soon the world can see this light.
Though you feel it is not right.
One day soon I hope you'll see,
that it's not so horrid to be seen with me.
Until that day I still will cherish,
the secret love that has no blemish.
poem by Michael McParland
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Those Two Boys
WHEN Bill was a lad he was terribly bad.
He worried his parents a lot;
He'd lie and he'd swear and pull little girls' hair;
His boyhood was naught but a blot.
At play and in school he would fracture each rule— 5
In mischief from autumn to spring;
And the villagers knew when to manhood he grew
He would never amount to a thing.
When Jim was a child he was not very wild;
He was known as a good little boy;
He was honest and bright and the teacher's delight—
To his mother and father a joy.
All the neighbors were sure that his virtue'd endure,
That his life would be free of a spot;
They were certain that Jim had a great head on him 15
And that Jim would amount to a lot.
And Jim grew to manhood and honor and fame
And bears a good name;
While Bill is shut up in a dark prison cell—
You never can tell.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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There Are No Returns
As children, we shared each other’s games,
and grew up thinking we would never change.
At eighteen duty called to go to a far off place,
we said we’d always wait for each other,
no matter how long, we would have to wait.
The year turned into five, before I came home.
Things had changed, someone else you had found,
while my life was moulded to, and I saw a different you.
The carefree life we both had,
disappeared as the years came round,
our goals were now different bound,
and too many things had passed before our eyes.
I smiled sweetly when I saw you;
your smile back was just as sweet.
He stood at your arm to let the world know,
you were spoken for, not free anymore.
I just nodded as I passed on by,
and you could not see the tears leak from my eyes.
War is not a beautiful thing,
with heroes in a Hollywood show.
It makes men age each day,
their eyes will testify, how I know.
The youthful zest no longer smiles,
only the old man’s sorrowing soul.
They come back a broken person,
whose lives have been altered so.
They come home only to find,
the old life has been robbed as well,
that old torches they used to carry,
are gone from them as well.
I moved on hoping never to return,
saying I’ll keep in touch, but will never do.
Like a nomad, I begin my endless trek,
as I want to get away from here and you.
More years pass on the way;
I find someone and settle down.
Then comes a letter to say you are free,
will I come and see,
but I look around at all I’ve got,
my life that on a solid rock stands,
but the calling is so great,
I have to go back to where I’ve been.
At the station, I see your face,
time has hurt you so,
worse that the war hurt me,
but I just had to know.
I smile, but it is only a courtesy call,
I’ve got a new life elsewhere.
We talk about the old times,
long before I went away.
You know it’s not the same between us,
that soon I’ll be on my way.
You’ve been hurt the way I was once,
but you also know, that I can’t stay.
The day goes on and we reminisce,
we smile and laugh about the days we miss.
Soon the train is in the station;
our hands linger to the touch.
I have a new life now; we will never be the same.
She stands there with our son,
with open beckoning arms;
we rush to meet each other,
our bodies held in an embrace.
She asks how things went;
I smile and simply say, there are no returns.
poem by David Harris
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I Pledge Allegiance To The State Of Rock & Roll
Looking back yeah I feel alright
Getting more than my expectations
Yeah my future looks clear and bright
I'm living up to my reputation
Yeah, I'm satisfied
Yeah, until the day I die
I gave my blood and I gave my soul
I stood my ground and I took control
The legend's growing as the story's told
I pledge allegiance to the state, of rock and roll
Oh yeah!
I've been a rebel for all my life
I never cared about regulations
I only went for the things I liked
And my guitar was my inspiration
Yeah, we pay a price
Yeah, I made the sacrifice
I gave my blood and I gave my soul
I stood my ground and I took control
The legend's growing as the story's told
I know that heaven's gonna wait
I pledge allegiance to the state, of rock and roll
Yeah, I'm satisfied
Yeah, until the day I die
I gave my blood and I gave my soul
I stood my ground and I took control
The legend's growing as the story's told
I know that heaven's gonna wait
I gave my blood and I gave my soul
I stood my ground and I took control
The legend's growing as the story's told
I pledge allegiance to the state, I pledge allegiance to the state
Of rock and roll, of rock and roll
Rock and roll
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leda
Do you remember, Leda?
There are those who love, to whom Love brings
Great gladness: such things have not I.
Love looks and has no mercy, brings
Long doom to others. Such was I.
Heart breaking hand upon the lute
Long last made musical by you?
Sharp bird-beak in the swelling fruit,
Or raise the eyelids of these flowers?
I dare not watch that hidden pool,
Nor see the wild bird's sudden wing
Lifting the wide, brown shaken pool,
But round me falls that secret wing,
And in that sharp, perverse, sweet pain
That is half-terror and half-bliss
My withered hands are curled on pain
That were so wide once, after bliss.
And gold is springing in my hair
As my thought spring and flower with it,
Though I sit hid in my grey hair,
Without love or the pain of it.
Yet, oh my Swan, if love have wings,
As the gods tell us, you were love
Who took and broke me with those wings.
I, weak, and being far gone in love
Let blushless things be breathed and done-
Things flowered out now in bitter fruit
That once done are no more undone
Than last year's frost and last year's fruit.
For what has come of love and me
Who knew the first joy that loving is?
Where has love led and beckoned me
But to the end where nothing is?
I have seen my blood beat out again
Red in the hands of all my line,
My sin has swelled and flowered again
Corrupt and fierce through Sparta's line.
Bred through me-bred through delicate hands
And wandering eyes and wanton lips,
Sighing after strange flesh as sighed these lips,
Straying after new sin as strayed these hands.
Mother of Helen! She whose breasts
To new desires unshaped the world;
Above Troy's summit towered these breasts
Helen who wantoned with the world!
Helen is dead (she had love enough
To mock at doom and laugh at shrine)
And Clytemnestra, quiet enough
To-night beneath Apollo's shrine.
And I am left, the source, the spring
Of all their madness. They are dead
While I still sit here, the old spring
That fouled them flows above the dead.
But I have paid. I have borne enough.
I am very old in love and woe.
For all souls these things are enough-
Who have known love are the friends of woe.
There those who love, and who escape,
There are those who love and do not die.
I loved, and there was no escape,
Long since I died and daily die.
And death alone makes hate and love
Friends with each other and with sleep . . .
All's quiet here that once was love,
This that is left belongs to sleep.
poem by Muriel Stuart
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The Dying Child
He could not die when trees were green,
For he loved the time too well.
His little hands, when flowers were seen,
Were held for the bluebell,
As he was carried o'er the green.
His eye glanced at the white-nosed bee;
He knew those children of the spring:
When he was well and on the lea
He held one in his hands to sing,
Which filled his heart with glee.
Infants, the children of the spring!
How can an infant die
When butterflies are on the wing,
Green grass, and such a sky?
How can they die at spring?
He held his hands for daisies white,
And then for violets blue,
And took them all to bed at night
That in the green fields grew,
As childhood's sweet delight.
And then he shut his little eyes,
And flowers would notice not;
Birds' nests and eggs caused no surprise,
He now no blossoms got;
They met with plaintive sighs.
When winter came and blasts did sigh,
And bare were plain and tree,
As he for ease in bed did lie
His soul seemed with the free,
He died so quietly.
poem by John Clare
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Ghosts of Dreams
We are all of us dreamers of dreams,
On visions our childhood is fed;
And the heart of a child is unhaunted, it seems,
By ghosts of dreams that are dead.
From childhood to youth's but a span,
And the years of our life are soon sped;
But the youth is no longer a youth, but a man,
When the first of his dreams is dead.
'Tis a cup of wormwood and gall,
When the doom of a great man is said;
And the best of a man is under a pall
When the best of his dreams is dead.
He may live on by compact and plan
When the fine bloom of living is shed,
But God pity the little that's left of a man
When most of his dreams are dead.
Let him show a brave face if he can;
Let him woo fame and fortune instead;
Yet there's not much to do, but to bury a man
When the last of his dreams is dead.
poem by William Herbert Carruth
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This Used To Be My Playground
Chorus (first time without background vocals):
This used to be my playground [used to be]
This used to be my childhood dream
This used to be the place I ran to
Whenever I was in need
Of a friend
Why did it have to end
And why do they always say
Don't look back
Keep your head held high
Don't ask them why
Because life is short
And before you know
You're feeling old
And your heart is breaking
Don't hold on to the past
Well that's too much to ask
(Long and movie versions only:)
(chorus)
Live and learn
Well the years they flew
And we never knew
We were foolish then
We would never tire
And that little fire
Is still alive in me
It will never go away
Can't say goodbye to yesterday [can't say goodbye]
(chorus)
No regrets
But I wish that you
Were here with me
Well then there's hope yet
I can see your face
In our secret place
You're not just a memory
Say goodbye to yesterday [the dream]
Those are words I'll never say [I'll never say]
This used to be my playground [used to be]
This used to be our pride and joy
This used to be the place we ran to
That no one in the world could dare destroy
(Short and movie versions only:)
This used to be our playground [used to be]
This used to be our childhood dream
This used to be the place we ran to
I wish you were standing here with me
(Movie version only:)
This used to be our playground [used to be]
This used to be our great escape
This used to be the place we ran to
This used to be our secret hiding place
This used to be our playground [used to be]
This used to be our childhood dream
This used to be the place we ran to
The best things in life are always free
Wishing you were here with me
song performed by by Madonna from Something To Remember
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Abolition Of Slavery In The District Of Columbia, 1862
When first I saw our banner wave
Above the nation's council-hall,
I heard beneath its marble wall
The clanking fetters of the slave!
In the foul market-place I stood,
And saw the Christian mother sold,
And childhood with its locks of gold,
Blue-eyed and fair with Saxon blood.
I shut my eyes, I held my breath,
And, smothering down the wrath and shame
That set my Northern blood aflame,
Stood silent, where to speak was death.
Beside me gloomed the prison-cell
Where wasted one in slow decline
For uttering simple words of mine,
And loving freedom all too well.
The flag that floated from the dome
Flapped menace in the morning air;
I stood a perilled stranger where
The human broker made his home.
For crime was virtue: Gown and Sword
And Law their threefold sanction gave,
And to the quarry of the slave
Went hawking with our symbol-bird.
On the oppressor's side was power;
And yet I knew that every wrong,
However old, however strong,
But waited God's avenging hour.
I knew that truth would crush the lie,
Somehow, some time, the end would be;
Yet scarcely dared I hope to see
The triumph with my mortal eye.
But now I see it! In the sun
A free flag floats from yonder dome,
And at the nation's hearth and home
The justice long delayed is done.
Not as we hoped, in calm of prayer,
The message of deliverance comes,
But heralded by roll of drums
On waves of battle-troubled air!
Midst sounds that madden and appall,
The song that Bethlehem's shepherds knew !
The harp of David melting through
The demon-agonies of Saul!
Not as we hoped; but what are we?
Above our broken dreams and plans
God lays, with wiser hand than man's,
The corner-stones of liberty.
I cavil not with Him: the voice
That freedom's blessed gospel tells
Is sweet to me as silver bells,
Rejoicing! yea, I will rejoice!
Dear friends still toiling in the sun;
Ye dearer ones who, gone before,
Are watching from the eternal shore
The slow work by your hands begun,
Rejoice with me! The chastening rod
Blossoms with love; the furnace heat
Grows cool beneath His blessed feet
Whose form is as the Son of God!
Rejoice! Our Marah's bitter springs
Are sweetened; on our ground of grief
Rise day by day in strong relief
The prophecies of better things.
Rejoice in hope! The day and night
Are one with God, and one with them
Who see by faith the cloudy hem
Of Judgment fringed with Mercy's light
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Astræa at the Capitol
WHEN first I saw our banner wave
Above the nation's council-hall,
I heard beneath its marble wall
The clanking fetters of the slave!
In the foul market-place I stood,
And saw the Christian mother sold,
And childhood with its locks of gold,
Blue-eyed and fair with Saxon blood.
I shut my eyes, I held my breath,
And, smothering down the wrath and shame
That set my Northern blood aflame,
Stood silent,--where to speak was death.
Beside me gloomed the prison-cell
Where wasted one in slow decline
For uttering simple words of mine,
And loving freedom all too well.
The flag that floated from the dome
Flapped menace in the morning air;
I stood a perilled stranger where
The human broker made his home.
For crime was virtue: Gown and Sword
And Law their threefold sanction gave,
And to the quarry of the slave
Went hawking with our symbol-bird.
On the oppressor's side was power;
And yet I knew that every wrong,
However old, however strong,
But waited God's avenging hour.
I knew that truth would crush the lie,
Somehow, some time, the end would be;
Yet scarcely dared I hope to see
The triumph with my mortal eye.
But now I see it! In the sun
A free flag floats from yonder dome,
And at the nation's hearth and home
The justice long delayed is done.
Not as we hoped, in calm of prayer,
The message of deliverance comes,
But heralded by roll of drums
On waves of battle-troubled air!
Midst sounds that madden and appall,
The song that Bethlehem's shepherds knew!
The harp of David melting through
The demon-agonies of Saul!
Not as we hoped; but what are we?
Above our broken dreams and plans
God lays, with wiser hand than man's,
The corner-stones of liberty.
I cavil not with Him: the voice
That freedom's blessed gospel tells
Is sweet to me as silver bells,
Rejoicing! yea, I will rejoice!
Dear friends still toiling in the sun;
Ye dearer ones who, gone before,
Are watching from the eternal shore
The slow work by your hands begun,
Rejoice with me! The chastening rod
Blossoms with love; the furnace heat
Grows cool beneath His blessed feet
Whose form is as the Son of God!
Rejoice! Our Marah's bitter springs
Are sweetened; on our ground of grief
Rise day by day in strong relief
The prophecies of better things.
Rejoice in hope! The day and night
Are one with God, and one with them
Who see by faith the cloudy hem
Of Judgement fringed with Mercy's light
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Skrying
This puzzles dead inside
Missing pieces growing eyes,
Mystery
Little girls severity,
Little boys begging mercy
Sticks break on me
Cost of life at 23
Price of pain a broken ring
All crimson
Melting body rubber world
Battle axe with locks of curls
Introverted
My cost, the price of a broken doll, can you
Remember that place
The place you would go to make things okay,
1000 points for insect stings,
Glue my spirit, break my wings,
Misery
Libido steams infectious whore,
Cauterize and forge the sword,
Remember killing.
Children, learning the secret knock, a nickel
To enter that place,
The place you would go to make things okay,
My cost, the price of a broken doll, can you
Remember that place
The place you would go to take pain away,
Games of passion taste so sweet
Cut his throat and slaughter meat,
My secrets.
Seven heads for seven seas,
Darkened voices plead disease
Dismembering me
Children, wrestle to seal the bag, storing it deep
In that place,
The place you would go and try to escape
Children, learning the secret knock, a nickel
To enter that place,
The place you would go to make things okay,
My cost, the price of a broken doll, can you
Remember that place
The place you would go to take pain away,
Skrying through reflections in a pool,
I see death coming, mowing down,
Do you remember the bedroom,
Was it your cell or was it your tomb,
Youre living through my hell
Children, learning the secret knock, a nickel
To enter that place,
The place you would go to make things okay,
My cost, the price of a broken doll, can you
Remember that place
The place you would go to take pain away
song performed by by Mudvayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slaughter In A Grave
It's a killer and it's prowls
Night after night
It's murderer in the vault
It lives for a fight
It's a story of soul
That has come for revenge
On murderous grounds he
Seeks his victims for the night
Listen to the night for
The shout of the skull
It's the call of death's return
And the vengeance of the God
It's a bad land and the
Storm comes to chill
It's a passage and the killer
Feels remorse to kill in fear
It's a victims who fixes the man with hate
A dead man drives crime in his
Fate so near
In the black vault the strange
Spirit commands the victims soul
To return in his body and to
Revenge his bloody murder so cold
On the screaming place
Mad spirit reighs with his killing soul
On his crazy face the vengeance
Makes it's course with fever...
In vaults
song performed by by Voivod
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Romance In The Market Place
YOU stood beside the flowers,
Yourself a flower;
And on your face
The twilight stayed another hour,
It shone so pale;
And all around men talked as in a market-place.
I heard them talk, and felt
No interest stir
In what they said.
Lilies were nigh you, and around you were
The lights of love,
And all about the world moved on with nervous tread.
I heard it not; for down
And round about
My soul you drew
The veils that shut the loud earth out,
And I and you
Were there alone — no one beside but I and you!
What words were those we said?
Old ones, perchance,
Pale with the pain
Of all who've kissed, and talked romance,
And said farewell,
And mixed their tears and kissed, and sighed — and sighed in vain.
We stood a sainted while,
And then your hand
Sought to be free,
And you were gone; and all the land
Was under gloom,
And lamps were lit for other men, but none for me.
I stood and watched you go,
And suddenly
The loud world grew
Like some great-voiced, insetting sea;
And men went by,
Talking of trade and war and all but love and you.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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Youth Of 1,000 Summers
He's the youth of a thousand summers
He's the youth of a thousand summers
Like a sweet bird of youth
Like a sweet bird of youth
In my soul. in my soul, in my soul
In my soul. in my soul. in my soul
And he looks so radiant
And he shines like the sun
And he looks so radiant
And he lights up the world
He's the youth of a thousand summers
He's the youth of a thousand summers
Like a sweet bird of youth
Like a sweet bird of youth
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
Yeah, love it, yeah, love it
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
He's the king of the mountain
And the clear crystal fountain
He's the saint of the river
He's the ancient of days
He's the youth of a thousand summers
He's the youth of a thousand summers
Like a sweet bird of youth
Like a sweet bird of youth
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
And he makes you go skipping
And he makes you go dancing
And he gets you in rhythm
And he moves you in song
He's the youth of a thousand summers
He's the youth of a thousand summers
Like a sweet bird of youth
Like a sweet bird of youth
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
Oh, in my soul, in my soul, in my soul
And a sweet bird of youth
In my soul (repeat)
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pass Away
Watch the world pass away,
As time does, day to day.
Nothing changing as lives move on.
Listen to the sounds the tears make,
As they fall because of everything at stake,
Keep in mind the pain that raises those tears from sorrows eye.
Remember the voices of the people past,
The things they did, the things they said, will always last.
Broken prescripts laying against the backdropp of damp Earth.
Wrap your arms around their ghost,
For to their spirit and memory we toast,
From goblets of their sweet, sour blood we drink.
Embrace their once unreal visions,
As they are now what form our own decisions,
For their dreamed fantasies have now become the future's reality.
Drape yourself in the blanket woven by those preceding,
Lay your head upon the bed, lay, your body bleeding,
Blood of your own deception, your blank and hidden naivety.
Let your silent cries flow like water in a river of truth,
Spread the knowledge of the pasts grief and strife's to the youth,
Teach them how the lives of people have been shaped, molded by tears.
Walk through life with your head held high,
Til one day you too will fade into history and ride to the sky,
Live through what others have provided, teach, learn, and live!
Kneel before the feet of fate,
Begin the future you will create,
Becoming one who came before, another soul of time.
Carry on the weight of people gone,
Move their sight from night to dawn,
Keep them alive with the strength you hold.
Watch the world pass away,
As time does, day to day,
And slowly watch, them fade to gray.
By: Bethany Jane Maxwell
April 5th,2011
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Songs of Battle
Old as the world--no other things so old;
Nay, older than the world, else, how had sprung
Such lusty strength in them when earth was young?--
Stand valor and its passion hot and bold,
Insatiate of battle. How, else, told
Blind men, born blind, that red was fitting tongue
Mute, eloquent, to show how trumpets rung
When armies charged adn battle-flags unfurled?
Who sings of valor speaks for life, for death,
Beyond all death, and long as life is life,
in rippled waves the eternal air hs breath
Eternal bears to stir all noble strife.
Dead Homer from his lost and vanished grave
Keeps battle glorious still and soldiers brave.
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Explorer
Dearest, when I left your side,
I stood a moment, hesitating,
And plunged. The boiling tide
Of darkness took me, and down I went
Swift as a bird with folded wing,
And upward sent
The bubbles of my vital breath
That shuddered from my secret deeps
To freedom and light;
Then, dimly, on my sight
Opened the still abode of living death.
Amid the mire,
In which invisibly sightless horror creeps,
Sat, each intent on his own woe,
The host that burns with inward fire,
Crowded like monuments of memorial stone
Beneath a pitchy sky
Where even the flash of tempest dare not show,
Yet each of them alone;
And each was I.
II
Breathless I struggled up,
As if the gloom had arms to clutch at me
And drag and hold,
Until the daylight’s gold
Shook faintly above my dizzy head
And parted suddenly, that I might see
The sky, a sheltering cup
Of hopeful azure, and your eyes of blue,
One promise and yet two
Of harbouring bliss;
And your lips parted and said,
“Shall not we twain
Find joy upon joy on earth
Together and see,
In the kinship of all that has birth
From the mutual reach of desire,
A joy beyond this,
A fire at the heart of the fire?”
And we clung till our spirit was free
As the flame of a kiss.
III
So we soared and the earth fell away, and the region of night
Was melted in limitless day of ineffable light
Till the myriad souls of the dead were united as we,
Themselves, and yet merged in the spread of an infinite sea
The joy that is life, and around us, below and above,
The One that all lovers have found, our eternity, Love.
poem by John Le Gay Brereton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Secret Loser
Trapped in a lonely body Im losin control
Cant show my emotions and Im losing my soul
Could it be that Im obsessed with feeding my disease
I couldnt make it know that hidden things that no one sees
Yeah loser Im a secret loser
Loser Im a secret loser
Fighting a losing battle pretending to win
Repenting to holy unknowns pretending to sin
All I do is hide the wounds where blood just wont congeal
Couldnt ever take my soul cos isnt there to steal
Yeah loser Im a secret loser
Loser Im a secret loser
Though Im the loser there is no winner
Theres nothing left to win
The hidden reasons now in deletion
Are lost in sin
So heed my warning the time is dawning
Ill tell you heres the twist
The truth is lying
Below the surface I dont exist
Loser Im a secret loser
Loser Im a secret loser
Seeing is not believing it dont mean a thing
Although it appears to be that the loser is king
I can understand that what you see you think is real
But underneath the surface is a wound that cannot heal
Yeah loser Im a secret loser
Loser Im a secret loser
Loser Im a secret loser
Loser Im a secret loser
Loser Im a secret loser
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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