He Tells Of The Perfect Beauty
O CLOUD-PALE eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes,
The poets labouring all their days
To build a perfect beauty in rhyme
Are overthrown by a woman's gaze
And by the unlabouring brood of the skies:
And therefore my heart will bow, when dew
Is dropping sleep, until God burn time,
Before the unlabouring stars and you.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Aedh Tells of a Valley Full of Lovers
I dreamed that I stood in a valley, and amid sighs,
For happy lovers passed two by two where I stood;
And I dreamed my lost love came stealthily out of the wood
With her cloud-pale eyelids falling on dream-dimmed eyes:
I cried in my dream ‘O women bid the young men lay
‘Their heads on your knees, and drown their eyes with your hair,
‘Or remembering hers they will find no other face fair
‘Till all the valleys of the world have been withered away.’
poem by William Butler Yeats
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He Tells Of A Valley Full Of Lovers
I DREAMED that I stood in a valley, and amid sighs,
For happy lovers passed two by two where I stood;
And I dreamed my lost love came stealthily out of the wood
With her cloud-pale eyelids falling on dream-dimmed eyes:
I cried in my dream, O women, bid the young men lay
Their heads on your knees, and drown their eyes with your fair,
Or remembering hers they will find no other face fair
Till all the valleys of the world have been withered away.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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The Pale Woman
I spoke to the pale and heavy-lidded woman, and said:
O pale and heavy-lidded woman, why is your cheek
Pale as the dead, and what are your eyes afraid lest they speak?
And the woman answered me: I am pale as the dead,
For the dead have loved me, and I dream of the dead.
But I see in the eyes of the living, as a living fire,
The thing that my soul in triumph tells me I have forgot;
And therefore mine eyelids are heavy, and I raise them not,
For always I see in the eyes of men the old desire,
And I fear lest they see that I desire their desire.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Rhyme
Poets rhyme from time to time
They don’t find rhyme a crime
It’s no sin, their using rhyme
Inspired rhyme is so sublime
Can often form a perfect line
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Untitled 878778
of beautiful souls and starry skies of sexy eyes and sweetness of you such nice smiles the beat of your heart like time in esscence the way u look the beauty in yuor soul of starry skies the stars in your eyes your soul so sweet so perfect the sweetness of the sweeteest of souls ur smile so perfect so great like a warm spring sunny day the warmth it portrays so elgantly nice ur perfect in all the goodness in life of beautiful souls on starry nights the sexyness in your eyes is forever more ever great be sweet for all time sake
poem by Dorian Suchelle
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If I Knew What Poets Know
If I knew what poets know,
Would I write a rhyme
Of the buds that never blow
In the summer-time?
Would I sing of golden seeds
Springing up in ironweeds?
And of rain-drops turned to snow,
If I knew what poets know?
Did I know what poets do,
Would I sing a song
Sadder than the pigeon's coo
When the days are long?
Where I found a heart in pain,
I would make it glad again;
And the false should be the true,
Did I know what poets do.
If I knew what poets know,
I would find a theme
Sweeter than the placid flow
Of the fairest dream:
I would sing of love that lives
On the errors it forgives;
And the world would better grow
If I knew what poets know.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Tell All Your Friends
Staring up to reach a star
Contemplating life on Mars
Life's a colourful magazine
I'm an eggshell under feet
'Til I see this house under pale blue skies
With golden fields that burn your eyes
So let's take a drive underneath the sun
New intentions all around
Put the brakes on, slow it down
Trying to find a new release
Find a space that you can breathe
But I've seen a house under pale blue skies
With golden fields that will burn your eyes
So let's take a drive underneath the sun
But don't come around, pulling me down
Telling the world I'll let you down
Just tell all your friends
I wanna dream with you
So tell all your friend's, the neighbours too
CNN and BBC World News
Tell all your friends
I wanna dream with you
Tell all your friends
Tell all your friends
I don't wanna sit here catching flies
'Cause I've seen this house under pale blue skies
With golden fields that will burn your eyes
So let's take a drive underneath the sun
But don't come around, pulling me down
Telling the world I'll let you down
Just tell all your friends
I wanna dream with you
So tell all your friend's and neighbours too
CNN and BBC World News
Tell all your friends
I wanna dream with you
Tell all your friends
song performed by by Feeder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beauty Is A Constant
Beauty let me see you lie
before my eyes so that I
can live in peace all my days
and cling to Mother nature's ways.
For all else is a trivial scene
compared to what all beauty means,
To speak of it in perfect rhyme
brings joy to me in all my time,
And so I pass my days and find
all that's beautiful in my mind.
I see the mountains and the lakes
and mindfully it stops my aches.
I search no matter where I go
and come upon the things that grow
They console me and I comprehend
that beauty and I both have no end.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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He Gives His Beloved Certain Rhymes
FASTEN your hair with a golden pin,
And bind up every wandering tress;
I bade my heart build these poor rhymes:
It worked at them, day out, day in,
Building a sorrowful loveliness
Out of the battles of old times.
You need but lift a pearl-pale hand,
And bind up your long hair and sigh;
And all men's hearts must burn and beat;
And candle-like foam on the dim sand,
And stars climbing the dew-dropping sky,
Live but to light your passing feet.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Aedh gives his Beloved certain Rhymes
Fasten your hair with a golden pin,
And bind up every wandering tress;
I bade my heart build these poor rhymes:
It worked at them, day out, day in,
Building a sorrowful loveliness
Out of the battles of old times.
You need but lift a pearl-pale hand,
And bind up your long hair and sigh;
And all men's hearts must burn and beat;
And candle-like foam on the dim sand,
And stars climbing the dew-dropping sky,
Live but to light your passing feet.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Prose to a Rose
Such A flower is the rose
Its colour bursting red
Such a flower if the rose
The flower of passion the poets often said
I could gaze upon its beauty
And not lift thine eyes
And when it closes its petals to go to sleep
A tear of sadness rises in my eyes
Such a flower is the rose
For it reminds me of you my dear
When ever I gaze upon a rose
It makes me wish you were here
Its petals are soft as thy skin
The colour like your lips
Its fragrance is sweet and pure
Like the flavor of your kiss
Such a flower is the rose it beauty
Has been endless through out time
And when ever I see a rose be reassured my love
You are for ever on my mind
poem by John A. Hancock
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I Burn For You
Now that I have found you
In the coolth of your evening smile
The shade of your parasol
And your love flows through me
Though I drink at your pool
I burn for you, I burn for
You and I are lovers
When night time folds around our bed
In peace we sleep entwined
And your love flows through me
Though an ocean soothes my head
I burn for you, I burn for
Stars will fall from dark skies
As ancient rocks are turning
Quiet fills the room
And your love flows through me
Though I lie here so still
I burn for you, I burn for you
I burn...
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every Time I Open My Eyes
Night or day
I dream of you
Dream of spending time with you too
Dream we decided to fall in love and that you'd always stay
Sometimes it makes me want to sleep all the time
What's the point of being awake
When during my dreams is when I'm happy
Because during my dreams you're here with me
I'll try to sleep for your sake
We've had the best times together these past three weeks
Even though I haven't seen you in awhile
Every night I go to sleep with a smile
But every morning, every time I wake up
I feel the depression, someone take this cup
Because every time I open my eyes I'm still alone
No matter how sweet the dream, it ends
No matter how much love my heart sends
The dreams they end and when I open my eyes I'm empty
When I open my eyes I'm still alone, I'm still me.... just me
I almost don't want to dream for fear of harsh reality
I know it's selfish of me
To want to dream all day and then not because it hurts my feelings
I wish I could just tape up my heart with sealings
And not let anyone is because all I dream of is true love
And all I can think when I wake up is: I'm completely alone
I'm unloved
I can't write poetry, and I can't rhyme
I have no skill, and I have no true love
EVERY SINGLE TIME MY EYES ARE OPEN!
I'm just alone even when I close my eyes to cry, the second they open tears
Come again, because I'm still alone...
It's gotten to the point where I can barely cry I've drowned in my emotion
I almost wish for death again, anything to end this loneliness
Why do I seek love so ardently when I have nothing left to give of me...
Maybe that's why when I open my eyes I may be a young boy
But I feel like
'An old man, filled with regrets, waiting to die alone.'
poem by David Knox
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The Woman Of Rhyme
She is not what you'd call beautiful though still in her prime
And to those who know her she is known as The Woman of Rhyme
In Local Literary circles not even one of note
As she does not fit the bill of the Modern Poet.
But the rhyme from her gushes and it races along
And in five minutes flat she can pen you a song
And though not classified as a poet her verse is not doggerel
And with her gift of rhyme one might say she does well.
Some fifty years ago she would have known fame
And her's would have been a great Literary name
But rhyme it would seem has passed it's use by date
And what's now seen as old fashioned was once seen as great.
Even the best of the Local modern poets seem strangers to renown
But then such is life in a football mad Town
In the pubs the names of famed poets and artists they never recall
Their small talk mostly of sports, footballers and football.
For what she is good at she is not recognized
But having said that I am not really surprised
since rhyme verse has long passed it's glorious time
And none to applaud the young Woman of Rhyme.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Stars and the Moon
Stars and the Moon
Why do you come so soon?
I lay there unable to shut my eyes
This something I despise
Stars and the Moon
Behind my eyelids there is a dream that awaits
My head spins, but i am not elate
Stars and the Moon
It's a horrible dream
The one about that night just bursting at the seam
My eyes are heavy now
As if I'm forced to obey, at it's feet, I bow
Stars and the Moon
I can feel my body tense
Instantaneously pulled into a trance quite immense
Stars and the Moon
I hear the screams of that night
That abhorrent deed, I tried to put up a fight
Stars and the Moon
I hate when you come
day and sun is my time to feel numb
poem by Naomi Deluca
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Sun Will Rise
Edwin McCain
Sun Will Rise
Hey there busy boy why are you so blue
Walking around in your Armageddon shoes
You say you got nothing, you got nothing left to lose
Boy if they were free, you still would not have a clue
I know the sun will rise
Just like the stars in the skies
Just like every time you look at me with loving in your eyes
I know the sun will rise
Youre talking to the mystics, you got psychics on the phone
What a silly waste of time
You talk about lonely but you never were alone
Boy you just got to clear your mind
I know the sun will rise
Just like the stars in the skies
Just like every time you look at me with loving in your eyes
I know the sun will rise
Why must it be some big mystery
Tell me, why cant it just be alright
I know the sun will rise
Just like the stars in the skies
Just like every time you look at me with loving in your eyes
I know the sun will rise
I know the sun will rise
Just like the stars in the skies
Just like every time you look at me with loving in your eyes
I know the sun will rise
song performed by by Edwin McCain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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MDCCCXCIII: A Prelude
Sweet days of breaking light,
or yet the shadowy might
and blaze of starry strife
possess’d my life;
sweet dawn of Beauty’s day,
first hint and smiling play
of the compulsive force
that since my course
across the years obeys;
not tho’ all earlier days
in me were buried, not
were ye forgot. –-
The northern kingdom’s dream,
prison’d in crystal gleam,
heard the pale flutes of spring,
her thin bells ring;
the tranced maiden’s eyes
open’d a far surmise,
and heavens and meadows grew
a tender blue
of petal-hearts that keep
thro’ their dark winter-sleep
true memory of delight,
a hidden light.
Then by her well Romance
waiting the fabled chance
dream’d all the forest-scene
in shifting green;
and Melusina’s gaze
lurk’d in the shadow’d glaze
of waters gliding still,
a witching ill;
or lost Undine wept
where the hid streamlet crept,
to the dusk murmuring low
her silvery woe.
Dim breaths in the dim shade
of the romantic glade
told of the timid pain
that hearken’d, fain,
how Beauty came to save
the prison’d life and wave
above the famish’d lands
her healing hands
(Beauty, in hidden ways
walking, a leafy maze
with magic odour dim,
far on life’s rim;
Beauty, sweet pain to kiss,
Beauty, sharp pain to miss,
in sorrow or in joy
a dear annoy;
Beauty, with waiting years
that bind the fount of tears
well-won if once her light
shine, before night).
Then the shy heart of youth
dared know its weening sooth,
then first thy godhead, Sun,
it’s life’s light one,
what time the hour outroll’d
its banner blazon’d gold
and all the honey’d time
rang rich with rhyme—-
rhyme, and the liquid laugh
of girlish spring, to quaff
granted each heart, and shed
about each head
a sound of harping blown
and airs of elfin tone
and gipsy waifs of song,
a dancing throng.
The yellow meads of May
acclaim’d the louder lay,
more rapturously athirst
for that fierce burst
of Summer’s clarioning,
what time his fulgent wing
should cleave the crystal spell
his hot eyes tell
each charm beneath the veil
his eager hands assail
and his red lips be prest
against her breast,
filling her every vein
with the diviner pain
of life beyond all dream
burning, supreme—-
(O natural ecstasy!
O highest grace, to be,
in every pulse to know
the Sungod’s glow!)
Thence the exulting strain
sped onward as a rain
of gold-linked notes
from unseen throats,
till the mad heart, adust,
of August’s aching lust
to do her beauty wrong
broke, and the song;
and in her poppied fate
ken life, grown all too great,
illumed with grateful breath
the lips of death. –-
But those deep fibres hold
the season’s mortal gold,
by silent alchemy
of soul set free,
and woven in vision’d shower
as each most secret hour
sheds the continuing bliss
in song or kiss. –-
O poets I have loved
when in my soul first moved
desire to breathe in one
love, song and sun,
your pages that I turn,
your jewelled phrases burn
richly behind a haze
of golden days. –-
And, O ye golden days,
tho’ since on stranger ways
to some undying war
the fatal star
of unseen Beauty draw
this soul, to occult law
obedient ever, not
are ye forgot.
poem by Christopher John Brennan
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Perfect Dream
To dream the perfect dream
would be of blue skies,
and no tears to cry
To dream the perfect dream
would be of love, and understanding,
and not of a world that's so demanding
To dream a perfect dream
would be of peace perfect peace
with no axes to grind
no fears of deadlines
no wars to fight, so let me dream and take flight.
poem by Christina Henry
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Symphony for the night
Close your eyes
let me sing you a song of the night
When the sky is dark,
And sweet cold winds blows,
Dream it for me,
let your heart sleep,
To wander in magic,
Flying trough sea of stars that shimmering
Let the moon smiles,
Greeting you trough the sky,
Let the clouds go with you,
Let us sail trough the night!
Let them,
Let the stars, blanketing your night sleep
Let the wind, blowing for your dreams
Let the symphony in, filling your heart,
Putting you, a good sleep trough the night,
Lei it be,
Dream, oh dream it for me,
Till the dawn, let you sleep.
Dreaming the Perfect Imperfect Dream
She said:
'I have made you up
and now I believe in you more
than my reality
and my dependence is complete
and perfect
because
you are my perfect creature
and now all around me
seems dull
real people seem
to be without your luster.
I can dream you
but I cannot live with you
marry you,
nor can I marry
those real
pale reflections of you.
So I am stuck and I have no one
to talk to about this but you.
But what ever you say will be perfect
because I have made you in my mind
to say only the things
which make perfect sense to me.
I'm captured by my own dream-you
and unable to un-dream you and seek
imperfection as a substitute.
He said:
I am only a dream without desires
and mind
except that which you impart
and this makes me feel powerless
and even as your perfect dream
I am sad
because I am not my own perfect self
but merely yours-something I sense you sense
since you labor to re-dream me often
severing me from my own attempt to create
a more perfect me
in lieu of a more perfect you invent.
I am dream and dreams dilemma.
We both are now perfect partners
in the conundrum
seeking to eek
out some solution
which does not shatter our dreams
upon which we both now have come to depend.
Ah, but just one last time
can your dream kiss mine?
That only seems fair.
doesn't it.?
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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