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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: LI

THE SAME CONTINUED
We planted love, and lo it bred a brood
Of lusts and vanities and senseless joys.
We planted love, and you have gathered food
Of every bitter herb which fills and cloys.
Your meat is loud excitement and mad noise,
Your wine the unblest ambition of command
O'er hearts of men, of dotards, idiots, boys.
These are the playthings fitted to your hand,
These are your happiness. You weep no more,
But I must weep. My Heaven has been defiled.
My sin has found me out and smites me sore,
And folly, justified of her own child,
Rules all the empire where love reigned of yore,
Folly red--cheeked but rotten to the core.

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Love And Folly

LOVE, who now deals to human hearts,
Such ill thrown, yet resistless darts,
That hapless mortals can't withstand them,
Was once less cruel and perverse,
Nor did he then his shafts disperse,
So much at random.

It happened, that the thoughtless child
Was rambling thro' a flowery wild,
Like idle lad in school vacation;
Where sauntering now, and now at rest,
Stroll'd Folly, who to Love address'd
His conversation.
On trifles he had much to say,
Then laughing he propos'd to play,
And stake against Love's bow his bauble;
The quiver'd gamester smil'd and won,
But testy Folly soon began
To fret and squabble.

Loud and more loud the quarrel grows;
From words the wranglers went to blows,
For Folly's rage is prompt to rise;
Till bleeding Love a martyr stood­
A stroke from Folly's weapon rude,
Put out his eyes.
Then wild with anguish, Venus pray'd,
For vengeance on the idiot's head,
And begg'd of cloud-compelling Jove,
His swiftest lightening, to destroy,
The mischievous malignant boy
That blinded Love.

'Folly is immortal,' Jove replied,
'But, tho' your prayer must be denied,
'An endless penance is decreed him;
'For Love, tho' blind, will reign around
'The world; but still where-ever found,
'Folly shall lead him.'

poem by Charlotte Smith
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Bitter Blow of Love

Love! you dealt a bitter blow –
You lay me cross the mortal plains,
Bedewed, bedimmed amongst a show
Of tearful clouds: eternal rains
To weep at my enduring foe

Of harsh reality – searing pains of
Destiny: dependable propensity
To fool myself repeatedly
That I could ever triumph over love!

Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009

Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow of love, oh love
Love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Love and Folly

Love's worshippers alone can know
The thousand mysteries that are his;
His blazing torch, his twanging bow,
His blooming age are mysteries.
A charming science--but the day
Were all too short to con it o'er;
So take of me this little lay,
A sample of its boundless lore.

As once, beneath the fragrant shade
Of myrtles breathing heaven's own air,
The children, Love and Folly, played--
A quarrel rose betwixt the pair.
Love said the gods should do him right--
But Folly vowed to do it then,
And struck him, o'er the orbs of sight,
So hard, he never saw again.

His lovely mother's grief was deep,
She called for vengeance on the deed;
A beauty does not vainly weep,
Nor coldly does a mother plead.

A shade came o'er the eternal bliss
That fills the dwellers of the skies;
Even stony-hearted Nemesis,
And Rhadamanthus, wiped their eyes.

"Behold," she said, "this lovely boy,"
While streamed afresh her graceful tears,
"Immortal, yet shut out from joy
And sunshine, all his future years.
The child can never take, you see,
A single step without a staff--
The harshest punishment would be
Too lenient for the crime by half."

All said that Love had suffered wrong,
And well that wrong should be repaid;
Then weighed the public interest long,
And long the party's interest weighed.
And thus decreed the court above--
"Since Love is blind from Folly's blow,
Let Folly be the guide of Love,
Where'er the boy may choose to go."

poem by William Cullen Bryant
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Folly

(For A. K. K.)

What distant mountains thrill and glow
Beneath our Lady Folly's tread?
Why has she left us, wise in woe,
Shrewd, practical, uncomforted?
We cannot love or dream or sing,
We are too cynical to pray,
There is no joy in anything
Since Lady Folly went away.

Many a knight and gentle maid,
Whose glory shines from years gone by,
Through ignorance was unafraid
And as a fool knew how to die.
Saint Folly rode beside Jehanne
And broke the ranks of Hell with her,
And Folly's smile shone brightly on
Christ's plaything, Brother Juniper.

Our minds are troubled and defiled
By study in a weary school.
O for the folly of the child!
The ready courage of the fool!
Lord, crush our knowledge utterly
And make us humble, simple men;
And cleansed of wisdom, let us see
Our Lady Folly's face again.

poem by Joyce Kilmer
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Chanson d’Amour

I thought to live without true love
All my life through to be at peace,
But this heart, once again, would prove
Its folly from which I had won free.
Greater the folly is in me
Than child crying foolishly
To possess the lovely star
He sees shining clear and far.

However much I may despair
Love has well rewarded me
For serving him with all the care
I possess, without treachery,
Making Folly’s King of me.
Let all beware his deceit
Who grants such a gift, we see,
To those who serve loyally.

If I show anger it’s no wonder
To one who wounds me so sore
God! If I had him in my power
For just one day and no more:
Then he’d pay for his folly
As God my witness be!
He’d pay with his death, unless
He vanquished my lady blessed.

Ay! Noble heart, that is so wise,
Don’t scorn all my foolishness.
I know I’ve not the slightest right
To love you, just a lover’s right:
But folly drives us recklessly
Like a storm-tossed ship at sea,
That’s blown where the wind will blow,
Until all’s wrecked and brought low.

My lady who lacks never a grace,
Generous, kind, show me mercy:
Since there’s no evil in that face
But all good shines there clearly,
You know from whence this folly
That takes my life comes to me.
To whom can I cry again,
Except to you, in pain?

Song, pay her your respects, she
Is my sweet folly, and please
Beg her for God and honour
Never to prove a traitor.

poem by Le Châtelain de Coucy
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Song #5

I would not feign a single sigh
Nor weep a single tear for thee:
The soul within these orbs burns dry;
A desert spreads where love should be.
I would not be a worm to crawl
A writhing suppliant in thy way;
For love is life, is heaven, and all
The beams of an immortal day.

For sighs are idle things and vain,
And tears for idiots vainly fall.
I would not kiss thy face again
Nor round thy shining slippers crawl.
Love is the honey, not the bee,
Nor would I turn its sweets to gall
For all the beauty found in thee,
Thy lily neck, rose cheek, and all.

I would not feign a single tale
Thy kindness or thy love to seek;
Nor sigh for Jenny of the Vale,
Her ruby smile or rosy cheek.
I would not have a pain to own
For those dark curls and those bright eyes
A frowning lip, a heart of stone,
False love and folly I despise.

poem by John Clare
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I Planted A Hand

I planted a hand
And there came up a palm,
I planted a heart
And there came up balm.
Then I planted a wish,
But there sprang a thorn,
While heaven frowned with thunder
And earth sighed forlorn.

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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The Flowers

Ye offspring of the morning sun,
Ye flowers that deck the smiling plain,
Your lives, in joy and bliss begun,
In Nature's love unchanged remain.
With hues of bright and godlike splendor
Sweet Flora graced your forms so tender,
And clothed ye in a garb of light;
Spring's lovely children weep forever,
For living souls she gave ye never,
And ye must dwell in endless night?

The nightingale and lark still sing
In your tranced ears the bliss of love;
The toying sylphs, on airy wing,
Around your fragrant bosoms rove,
Of yore, Dione's daughter [6] twining
In garlands sweet your cup-so shining,
A pillow formed where love might rest!
Spring's gentle children, mourn forever,
The joys of love she gave ye never,
Ne'er let ye know that feeling blest!

But when ye're gathered by my hand,
A token of my love to be,
Now that her mother's harsh command
From Nanny's [7] sight has banished me--
E'en from that passing touch ye borrow
Those heralds mute of pleasing sorrow,
Life, language, hearts and souls divine;
And to your silent leaves 'tis given,
By Him who mightiest is in heaven,
His glorious Godhead to enshrine.

poem by Friedrich Schiller
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My Soul Weeps

I will weep and weep for you,
The world encaged you forcing you
Like the love of things
And the forgetting of death.

When you are dead, the art of living
Shall gain freedom, awaiting the return
Of the angels, the beauty perhaps
Or the pain of the Lord’s grasp.

There be knowledge, too, to know their folly
And strength, the single picture
So illuminated, late or soon,
But where is the last drop?

poem by Naveed Akram
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XLIII

THE SAME CONTINUED
I do not love you. To have said this once
Had seemed to both of us a monstrous lie,
An idle boast, love's last extravagance
Or the mere paradox of vanity.
Now it is true and yet more hideously
More strangely monstrous. I, no less than you,
Here own at length the worm which cannot die,
The burden of a pain for ever new.
This is the ``pang of loss,'' the bitterest
Which Hell can give. We are shut out from Heaven
And never more shall look upon Love's face,
Being with those who perish unforgiven.
Never to see Love's face! Ah, pain in pain,
Which we do well to weep and weep again!

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Weep For The Child

Hey you, do you ever cry - for the child?
Falling in love with strangers, feeling incomplete, hey thats me
Some are fly, some are shy, some are acting like they own the street, ooh
One minute were together then the next youre acting really cool, so cool
You can play me any way but dont ever treat me like a fool, no no no
Sometimes so hateful
Sometimes so shy
Dont ask me why
Weep for the child
Better raise your hand
Were twisting the style
Aint no need to understand
Dont leave me alone to make it tonight
No dont go
Wearing your desperation wrapped me on your sleeve, yes you do
Youve got everything you want but you just cant get the things that you need, oh no no no
Sometimes you fake it
Sometimes you lie
Dont ask me why
Weep for the child
Better raise your hand, raise your hand
Were twisting the style
Aint no need to understand
Dont leave me alone to make it tonight, no no no
Sweet baby
You never understood
You never treat me right
Weep for the child
Better raise your hand, raise your hand
Were twisting the style
Aint no need to understand, do you understand?
Dont leave me alone to make it tonight, yeah
Weep for the child
Weep
Weep
Weep
In your heart
Weep for the child
Better raise your hand, raise your hand
Were twisting the style
Aint no need to understand, no need
Dont leave me alone to make it
Alone to make it
Alone to make it tonight

song performed by by Culture Club
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Is Love?

What is Love?
Is it a folly,
Is it mirth, or melancholy?
Joys above,
Are there many, or not any?
What is Love?

If you please,
A most sweet folly!
Full of mirth and melancholy:
Both of these!
In its sadness worth all gladness,
If you please!

Prithee where,
Goes Love a-hiding?
Is he long in his abiding
Anywhere?
Can you bind him when you find him;
Prithee, where?

With spring days
Love comes and dallies:
Upon the mountains, through the valleys
Lie Love's ways.
Then he leaves you and deceives you
In spring days.

poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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The Planted Seed

you cried because i said that i was leaving
you cried because you knew your heart was deceiving.
you took my love for granted
and in my heart, a seed you had planted.

that seed that you planted
made my love truly grow
but there was something that you did'nt know

that i had a free will, the same as you
and i knew just what to do.
i gathered my strength which
i had tucked inside
a strength which i knew to hide.

i broke those chains with which
you had me bound.
and turned my life completely around

the seed that you planted
had strengthened me,
to a point that i could see
that life with you would be misery.

so i leave you with a smile on my face
i walk away with dignity and grace.

poem by Louis Rams
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I would love

I'd love to be with you every moment,
I'd love to be with you everywhere,
I'd love to meet with you the sunrise,
the brightness of the day,
the appearance of the first star
which is so far.
I'd love to drink with you the wine of love,
I'd love to breath with you the same air,
I'd love to eat with you the same food,
I'd love to feel the beating of your heart
at every moment of your mood.
I'd love to listen to your voice
and if I had a choice
I'd love to ignore the noise
of those who command,
of those who pretend,
of those who say lies
without looking at your eyes.
I've got so many things I'd love.
Don't count the ones I've said above.
I've got them such a big amount
that it's impossible to count.

poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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A Little Love

A little love is always to share,
Pulling the legs of those who care;
Share the guns and rifles if you desire,
Fully able are those soldiers, in this empire.
My love extends to the strong and able,
Working a solution for any council.

My love for you is strong as I cry,
The crying in your eyes is for me, I try;
Conventions are strong, more than ever,
Like audacity of the home, the love of the actor.
For love is in me tonight as I weep and weep,
Lamentations are stronger forms when asleep.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Butterflies

O child of Joy! What idle life is thine!
Thou, in these meadows, while thy skies are blue,
And while thy joys are new to thee like wine,
Chasest mad butterflies as children do.
And lo, thou turnest from them to repine,
Because it was not love thou didst pursue.

O child of Hope! Thou sighest thy sad sighs,
Mourning for that which is not nor can be.
Where is the noon can match with thy sunrise?
Whose is the heart shall win thy constancy?
Thou, with thy foolish loves, mad butterflies,
What dost thou ask of my sad heart and me?

O child of Love, begotten for man's bliss!
O child of Pleasure, nursed for thy own pain!
Needs must I weep the day of thy distress,
The fate that brushes at thy arm in vain,
Thy skies of blue, thy broken happiness,
The hopes thou chasest never to attain.

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Weep Day

I never went to the tropical island
Though everybody said they saw me there
And it wasnt me you punched a hole in
At the west german protest march
Simultaneous events dont happen
We are isolated temporally
And a part is never called the whole thing
Though it bothers us to know its so
Every man is made of two opinions
Every woman has a second half
And its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
Yes, its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
I didnt write the words you hear me singing (didnt write the words you hear me singing)
I didnt sing the line before this one (didnt sing the line before this one)
You are not the one I was addressing (you are not the one I was addressing)
That person took a train to africa (africa)
Where he met the consulate from belgium
Who is now a buddhist in a cave
Who is pitching for the oakland raiders
Striking out the batter she became
Every man is made of two opinions
Every woman has a second half
And its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
Yes, its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
Yes, its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
Weep day for urine man (weep day for urine man)
Weep day for urine man (weep day for urine man)
Weep day for urine man (weep day for urine man)
Weep day weep day
Weep day weep day
Weep day weep day
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)

song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Weeping angels

Down from heaven
to show the way to paradise
for the newly dead
the angels weep

So young
so innocent
so senseless
the angels weep

Eyes down
wings at there sides
words not exchanged
the angels weep

32 new angels
no need to earn there wings
like jesus they died for other peoples sins
in heaven they will weep

In heaven they will be called apon
to one day escort the new to paradise
and they will

With eyes down
wings at there sides
and tears in there eyes
weeping forever

God bless all who lost there lives today
and there familys
America loves you
and your scarfice will not be forgotten

poem by Vincent Armone
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Weep Not Child

weep not child

wipe those tears from your eyes
weep not child
weep not for you are not alone
weep not child

wipe those very tears
surely, over the years
but somewhat he above us cares
your struggle he bears
to wipe them off and clears
the shackles
and tackles
of all scuffles
and troubles

weep not child
for you are not alone.

®ntema, o.p.
[email protected]
©05.09.2011
1325h rs

poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Weep Not My Love

Weep not for me when I am gone,
weep not for me as life is never long.
Weep not for me as you must live
and be ever strong.
Our love will last eternally
and when you need me, I will be there.
I will be that whisper in your ear,
that whisper that no one else can hear.
Weep not for me my love
you must be strong and live your life long.
Even though I am gone weep not for me
as this is a phase, we all one day must go through.
Though I go first, my love never fear
for when your time come I’ll be waiting here for you.

16 September 2009

poem by David Harris
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