When You Are Old
When you are old, and I am passed away –
Passed, and your face, your golden face is gray –
I think, what’er the end, this dream of mine,
Comforting you, a friendly star will shine
Down the dim slope where you still stumble and stray.
So may it be: that so dead yesterday,
Not sad-eyed ghost but generous and gay,
May serve your memories like almighty wine,
When you are old!
Dear Heart, it shall be so. Under the sway
Of death the past’s enormous disarray
Lies hushed and dark. Yet though there come no sign,
Live on well pleased: immortal and divine
Love shall still tend you, as God’s angels may,
When you are old.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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The Quest
I am looking for Love. Has he passed this way,
With eyes as blue as the skies of May,
And a face as fair as the summer dawn?--
You answer back, but I wander on,--
For you say: 'Oh, yes; but his eyes were gray,
And his face as dim as a rainy day.'
Good friends, I query, I search for Love;
His eyes are as blue as the skies above,
And his smile as bright as the midst of May
When the truce-bird pipes: Has he passed this way?
And one says: 'Ay; but his face, alack!
Frowned as he passed, and his eyes were black.'
O who will tell me of Love? I cry!
His eyes are as blue as the mid-May sky,
And his face as bright as the morning sun;
And you answer and mock me, every one,
That his eyes were dark, and his face was wan,
And he passed you frowning and wandered on.
But stout of heart will I onward fare,
Knowing _my_ Love is beyond--somewhere,--
The Love I seek, with the eyes of blue,
And the bright, sweet smile unknown of you;
And on from the hour his trail is found
I shall sing sonnets the whole year round.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Love Star
Cindy walker
Love star, oh star of love have you forgotten me?
Im so lonely for someone to love
Love star, oh star of love look down so you may see
Someone for me like Im dreaming of
You see because my heart is shy
Somehow love has passed me by
And noone knows how much I cry
When Im all alone for a love of my own
Love star, they say for every heart a love star shines
So please, please shine for mine and let me find my love.
You see because my heart is shy
Somehow love has passed me by
And noone knows how much I cry
When Im all alone for a love of my own
Love star, they say for every heart a love star shines
So please, please shine for mine and let me find my love.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beauty In You Boils Like Wine Yet You Are So Divine
You are eternal so is love
Everything is for change but not beauty of my love..
Beauty in you is admired by all
Here i'm as adorable not for all..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
Beauty is you that's true
Honey.. it's true mirror never lies you..
I never lie but can lie for you and
For your happiness can die for you..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
Beauty is sacred so are you
Beauty is priceless so in you
You are precious but not for the world
Can bet anything to make you my world
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
Beautiful is you not my life
Your beauty is immortal not my eyes
Oh Mine...
Your beauty is the way to heaven
Show me way to your heart which is next to seven..
Take me the way i am and
make me the way you want..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
You are my love worth to die for
You are my freedom worth to fight for..
I made my guts to compromise
Beauty in you is worth a sacrifice..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
My words can sail but are not for sale
Can sacrifice in love to make you my fairy tale..
This song of mine is only for you my sunshine
I can sing this song specially for you my divine..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
I've signed your name on each dropp of my sweat and
Will dream of you till the last day of my breath..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine..
poem by Dr Vinay Sirigere
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Separate Long Decades Have Passed
long decades have passed
polar ice caps keep melting
ghost years between all passed away
time lost in sightless mists years
but there was not one no rainbows
time left us alone poles polar apart
yet through all those lost mist years
filled with work time spectral dreaming
your name haunted mind each day
memories came ever unbidden
in thoughts intrusive odd timed
such thoughts were never far away
I hoped lost years to you were gentle kind
lost out of sight never out of memory mind
eternal youth memories face to ages blind
I see you ever in heart’s mind memory
memories that echo through eternity
in this love which endures in perpetuity
long decades have passed
polar ice caps are still melting
ghost years between all passed away
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Waiting For The Day
Now everyday I see you in some other face
They crack a smile, talk a while,
try to take your place
My memories serve me far too well
It's not like at all
we just broke up
It's not like at all
it was yesterday
But something I just can't explain
something
And no one ever saw your face again
just say good bye to the stupid mistakes we made
My memories serve me far too well
the years will come and go
some of them will change our lives
some of us still have nothing to show
nothing baby
but memories
And I just wish to see your face again
Won't you keep waiting for that day ?
I know I know I know
You hear these words that I say
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
song performed by by George Michael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Face
I see a face that face is mine
The mirror marks the changing time
Her face Ill never see again
And mine will never be the same
That face was fine only yesterday
My problems seemed so far away
Reflections I see of myself
As in sickness as in health
As she left as for worse
No chance to re-rehearse
Try to forget try not to see
Who is that face looking at me
Reflections of yesterday
If only I could make you stay
One day past is like a year
She wouldnt say what made her leave
I didnt think shed ever go
And why she did Ill never know
I wish I could return and see
But now its just a memory
Reflections of yesterday
Reflections of yesterday
I see a face that face is mine
The mirror marks the changing time
Her face Ill never see again
And mine will never be the same
Reflections of yesterday
Reflections of yesterday
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wine
Come, light up the cup with sparkling wine
For life is lovely, and everything is fine.
In the wine reflected when I see your face
I feel exalted by the Divine Grace
Like cypress tree, when you swing and sway,
The beauties you throw in disarray
The one who loves can never die
For love is eternal, no one can deny.
From love, when drunk, you do not shrink
So happy are those with whom you drink
Don't listen to the preacher who talks of sin
On the Judgment Day, our wine will win
O breeze of spring, to my darling well
You touch her often; you know her well
I still remember the day we met
Though you've forgotten, I cannot forget
My fate it was, and I bore the cost
Regret I not having loved and lost
If you don't believe, and think I am a sham
Come talk to my patron, the generous Quam
And think of your Hafiz, and don't say no
Come back to him, for he loves you so.
Composed by: Hafiz (Shamsuddin Mohamed 1320- 1381, Shiraz, Iran)
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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Your Last Drive
Here by the moorway you returned,
And saw the borough lights ahead
That lit your face - all undiscerned
To be in a week the face of the dead,
And you told of the charm of that haloed view
That never again would beam on you.
And on your left you passed the spot
Where eight days later you were to lie,
And be spoken of as one who was not;
Beholding it with a cursory eye
As alien from you, though under its tree
You soon would halt everlastingly.
I drove not with you…. Yet had I sat
At your side that eve I should not have seen
That the countenance I was glancing at
Had a last-time look in the flickering sheen,
Nor have read the writing upon your face,
'I go hence soon to my resting-place;
'You may miss me then. But I shall not know
How many times you visit me there,
Or what your thoughts are, or if you go
There never at all. And I shall not care.
Should you censure me I shall take no heed
And even your praises I shall not need.'
True: never you'll know. And you will not mind.
But shall I then slight you because of such?
Dear ghost, in the past did you ever find
Me one whom consequence influenced much?
Yet the fact indeed remains the same,
You are past love, praise, indifference, blame.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Dark
Ive been waiting here
Waiting for faith
And the word to fall.
Now the darkness comes
And Ill pray for
The end of us all.
Dont let the dark into me
We killed the angels that warned us of you
Dont let the dark into me
We raised the tower of babel for you
Dont let the dark into me
We let the children build temples for you
Dont let the dark into me
Dont let the vengeance of heaven be you
So pray to me, Im the lords new disease,
Look down into the face of god.
Bow down and cry, Im the black messiah,
The one true divinity.
Kneel before my altar and drink the wine of slaughter,
Who said Id save anyone?
So bleed for me, I need hostility
To lead the faithful and the blind.
Dont let the light shine on me
I am the poison that feeds life to you
Dont let the light shine on me
I am the demon that waits inside you
Dont let the light shine on me
I am the ghost that reminds death of you
Dont let the light shine on me
I am the darkness that crawls into you
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The House Of Dust: Part 02: 10: Sudden Death
'Number four—the girl who died on the table—
The girl with golden hair—'
The purpling body lies on the polished marble.
We open the throat, and lay the thyroid bare . . .
One, who held the ether-cone, remembers
Her dark blue frightened eyes.
He heard the sharp breath quiver, and saw her breast
More hurriedly fall and rise.
Her hands made futile gestures, she turned her head
Fighting for breath; her cheeks were flushed to scarlet,—
And, suddenly, she lay dead.
And all the dreams that hurried along her veins
Came to the darkness of a sudden wall.
Confusion ran among them, they whirled and clamored,
They fell, they rose, they struck, they shouted,
Till at last a pallor of silence hushed them all.
What was her name? Where had she walked that morning?
Through what dark forest came her feet?
Along what sunlit walls, what peopled street?
Backward he dreamed along a chain of days,
He saw her go her strange and secret ways,
Waking and sleeping, noon and night.
She sat by a mirror, braiding her golden hair.
She read a story by candlelight.
Her shadow ran before her along the street,
She walked with rhythmic feet,
Turned a corner, descended a stair.
She bought a paper, held it to scan the headlines,
Smiled for a moment at sea-gulls high in sunlight,
And drew deep breaths of air.
Days passed, bright clouds of days. Nights passed. And music
Murmured within the walls of lighted windows.
She lifted her face to the light and danced.
The dancers wreathed and grouped in moving patterns,
Clustered, receded, streamed, advanced.
Her dress was purple, her slippers were golden,
Her eyes were blue; and a purple orchid
Opened its golden heart on her breast . . .
She leaned to the surly languor of lazy music,
Leaned on her partner's arm to rest.
The violins were weaving a weft of silver,
The horns were weaving a lustrous brede of gold,
And time was caught in a glistening pattern,
Time, too elusive to hold . . .
Shadows of leaves fell over her face,—and sunlight:
She turned her face away.
Nearer she moved to a crouching darkness
With every step and day.
Death, who at first had thought of her only an instant,
At a great distance, across the night,
Smiled from a window upon her, and followed her slowly
From purple light to light.
Once, in her dreams, he spoke out clearly, crying,
'I am the murderer, death.
I am the lover who keeps his appointment
At the doors of breath!'
She rose and stared at her own reflection,
Half dreading there to find
The dark-eyed ghost, waiting beside her,
Or reaching from behind
To lay pale hands upon her shoulders . . .
Or was this in her mind? . . .
She combed her hair. The sunlight glimmered
Along the tossing strands.
Was there a stillness in this hair,—
A quiet in these hands?
Death was a dream. It could not change these eyes,
Blow out their light, or turn this mouth to dust.
She combed her hair and sang. She would live forever.
Leaves flew past her window along a gust . . .
And graves were dug in the earth, and coffins passed,
And music ebbed with the ebbing hours.
And dreams went along her veins, and scattering clouds
Threw streaming shadows on walls and towers.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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A Year and a Day
Slow days have passed that make a year,
Slow hours that make a day,
Since I could take my first dear love
And kiss him the old way;
Yet the green leaves touch me on the cheek,
Dear Christ, this month of May.
I lie among the tall green grass
That bends above my head
And covers up my wasted face
And folds me in its bed
Tenderly and lovingly
Like grass above the dead.
Dim phantoms of an unknown ill
Float through my tired brain;
The unformed visions of my life
Pass by in ghostly train;
Some pause to touch me on the cheek,
Some scatter tears like rain.
A shadow falls along the grass
And lingers at my feet;
A new face lies between my hands --
Dear Christ, if I could weep
Tears to shut out the summer leaves
When this new face I greet.
Still it is but the memory
Of something I have seen
In the dreamy summer weather
When the green leaves came between:
The shadow of my dear love’s face --
So far and strange it seems.
The river ever running down
Between its grassy bed,
The voices of a thousand birds
That clang above my head,
Shall bring to me a sadder dream
When this sad dream is dead.
A silence falls upon my heart
And hushes all its pain.
I stretch my hands in the long grass
And fall to sleep again,
There to lie empty of all love
Like beaten corn of grain.
poem by Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal
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Love Came Down at Christmas
Love came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, love divine;
Love was born at Christmas,
Star and angels gave the sign.
Worship we the Godhead,
Love incarnate, love divine;
Worship we our Jesus:
But wherewith for sacred sign?
Love shall be our token,
Love shall be yours and love be mine,
Love to God and to all men,
Love for plea and gift and sign.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Stay With Me (o' Dear Heart Of Mine)
stay with me
o' dear heart
live with me
my soulheart
come with me
sit with me
talk with me
sing with me
dream with me
o' dear heart of mine
kneel with me
feel with me
smile a joy with me
pain a tear with me
frown with me
but come with me
and stay with thee
dance with me
chance with me
cleanse my heart
and stay with me
o' dear heart of mine
plan with me
journey with me
run with me
walk with me
o' dear heart of mine
brand with me
trend with me
trek with me
pray with me
thirst with me
quench with me
o' dear heart of mine
deal with me
seal with me
not steal with me
but steel with me
care with me
tenderly, humbly
o' dear heart of mine
friend with me
blend with me
mend with me
bend with me
nod with me
unto lord with me
come on board with me
o' dear heart of mine
fear not with me
as far as i see
a life to be
with you and me
o' dear heart of mine
corn with me
form with me
shape with me
tape with me
face with me
race with me
sense with me
nurse with me
o' dear heart of mine
nap with me
not a trap with me
this time
o' dear soul of mine
proud is me
rock with me
my heart
o' dear heart
of mine
map with me
wap with me
come with me
alone with me
stare with me
not to sick me
nor seek me
but stay with me
o' dear heart of mine
cross with me
boss with me
sail with me
rail with me
if i cry
cry with me
when i die
die with me
o' dear heart of mine
cold with me
fold with thee
rainbow with me
shine with me
rise with me
fall with me
stay with me
o' dear heart of mine
share
and care
with thee
o' dear heart of thine
**stay with me o' dear heart of mine** january 2012 ebook
(r) opn
(c) 09.01.2012
2159hrs
***ntema's unique poetry (nup)
(p) all rights of this piece are those of the poet.
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Thorgerda
LO, what a golden day it is!
The glad sun rives the sapphire deeps
Down to the dim pearl-floor’d abyss
Where, cold in death, my lover sleeps;
Crowns with soft fire his sea-drench’d hair,
Kisses with gold his lips death-pale,
Lets down from heaven a golden stair,
Whose steps methinks his soul doth scale.
This is my treasure. White and sweet,
He lies beneath my ardent eyne,
With heart that nevermore shall beat,
Nor lips press softly against mine.
How like a dream it seems to me,
The time when hand in hand we went
By hill and valley, I and he,
Lost in a trance of ravishment!
I and my lover here that lies
And sleeps the everlasting sleep,
We walk’d whilere in Paradise;
(Can it be true?) Our souls drank deep
Together of Love’s wonder-wine:
We saw the golden days go by,
Unheeding, for we were divine;
Love had advanced us to the sky.
And of that time no traces bin,
Save the still shape that once did hold
My lover’s soul, that shone therein,
As wine laughs in a vase of gold.
Cold, cold he lies, and answers not
Unto my speech; his mouth is cold
Whose kiss to mine was sweet and hot
As sunshine to a marigold.
And yet his pallid lips I press;
I fold his neck in my embrace;
I rain down kisses none the less
Upon his unresponsive face:
I call on him with all the fair
Flower-names that blossom out of love;
I knit sea-jewels in his hair;
I weave fair coronals above
The cold, sweet silver of his brow:
For this is all of him I have;
Nor any Future more than now
Shall give me back what Love once gave.
For from Death’s gate our lives divide;
His was the Galilean’s faith:
With those that serve the Crucified,
He shar’d the chance of Life and Death.
And so my eyes shall never light
Upon his star-soft eyes again;
Nor ever in the day or night,
By hill or valley, wood or plain,
Our hands shall meet afresh. His voice
Shall never with its silver tone
The sadness of my soul rejoice,
Nor his breast throb against my own.
His sight shall never unto me
Return whilst heaven and earth remain:
Though Time blend with Eternity,
Our lives shall never meet again,—
Never by gray or purple sea,
Never again in heavens of blue,
Never in this old earth—ah me!
Never, ah never! in the new.
For me, he treads the windless ways
Among the thick star-diamonds,
Where in the middle æther blaze
The Golden City’s pearl gate-fronds;
Sitteth, palm-crown’d and silver-shod,
Where in strange dwellings of the skies
The Christians to their Woman-God
Cease nevermore from psalmodies.
And I, I wait, with haggard eyes
And face grown awful for desire,
The coming of that fierce day’s rise
When from the cities of the fire
The Wolf shall come with blazing crest,
And many a giant arm’d for war;
When from the sanguine-streaming West,
Hell-flaming, speedeth Naglfar.
poem by John Howard Payne
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Her Memories
NOT by her grave: thither I bid them take
Fresh garlands of the flowers that pleased her best,
And lay them by the headstone, for my sake,
My token and remembrance with the rest:
But here, where in the brightening of the west
I see her mountains grow into the sky,
Her native world, and mine because of her,
Here, where that low sigh of the pinewood's stir,
That was her dearest music, fills all sound
,I am with her;
And always, always, past comes passing by,
Lost in her grave, but here as if half found.
Not by her grave: it is too still, too cold,
And save my loss is nothing with me there.
What memories have I there of her of old?
They came not there, the dear lost days that were;
Not she lies there, but only my despair;
Not she, but death and all my loneliness.
What memories save all memories love must shun?
I would not think of death and her as one;
She shall be only life-ful in my mind,
With life's self one;
A name of glad remindings and old bliss,
So something of her presence left behind.
Not by her grave: some day will I return,
When sorrow keeps its wont unvexed by place,
And, sitting on the turf beside, will learn
To call before me there her waking face,
Not that white face that slept and took no trace
Of change because I kissed it, nor for tears.
Some day; for now I should forget her so,
Lose the fair happy woman and but know
The coldness and the silence when she died,
Lose her all so,
My love that was my life of all for years.
She loved this music when the pinewoods sighed.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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I Almost Lost You Yesterday
I almost lost you yesterday
my life all shattered and in disarray.
God could have chosen death to part
and brought such sadness to my heart.
I took for granted the love we've got
but yesterday reminded me my dear Dot
of the frailty of this earthly life.
I could have been without my wife!
My love, you're so very precious to me
without you I don't know what I'd be.
I know that death will separate one day
but I'm so thankful it was not yesterday.
Praise God for His daily protection
for His great care and His direction.
He was watching over you yesterday
and has given us another precious day.
A Flower's Song
Star! Star, why dost thou shine
Each night upon my brow?
Why dost thou make me dream the dreams
That I am dreaming now?
Star! Star, thy home is high --
I am of humble birth;
Thy feet walk shining o'er the sky,
Mine, only on the earth.
Star! Star, why make me dream?
My dreams are all untrue;
And why is sorrow dark for me
And heaven bright for you?
Star! Star, oh, hide thy ray,
And take it off my face;
Within my lowly home I stay,
Thou, in thy lofty place.
Star! Star, and still I dream,
Along thy light afar
I seem to soar until I seem
To be, like you, a star.
poem by Abram Joseph Ryan
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Ghost Of Yesterday
Irene wilson / arthur herzog jr.
Ghost of yesterday
Stalking round my room
All night long you stay
Walk around profound gloom
When the darkness falls
When Ive gone to bed
Weirdly come your calls
Mournfully, scornfully dead
Folly of a love I strangled
Pulsing heart I thought was gone
Gives no peace
Will not cease
Prowling round till dawn
Ghost of yesterday
Every night youre here
Whispering away
Might have been, might have been, oh, my dear
Foolish heart must pay
Ghost of yesterday
Yesterday
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At times I wonder why
At times I wonder why
those I love pass away
and battle to live,
when for others
destiny calls screaming.
One glorious summer
I loved a girl,
who like a blonde angel
came my way,
but in that autumn
death took her away.
Although that summer passed
and some memories
are fading,
sometimes I dream
of a blue eyed girl singing
at the throne of the most mighty God.
Greater than bright angels
her clear voice keeps ringing
and she is white and pure
and everywhere the radiance
of that holy place is beaming.
Somehow that dream
comes back to me
and although I cannot understand,
the way that life
is measured out
I see the Holy One
and His mighty hand
points out my way
and somehow somewhere
life gets meaning
and what was lost is retrieved.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow
Yesterday I done things that pleased others
Today I do things that pleased myself
Tomorrow is the day I change what I have done wrong
Yesterday I hate things that hurt me
Today I shall change things under my control
Tomorrow I shall do more that I can envisioned
Yesterday I had past my youth era
Today I am wiser than yesterday
Tomorrow I will become a legend because I dare to dream big
Happy are those whom appreciated what yesterday had brought
Happy are those whom plan for things to do today
For tomorrow what might bring us is eternal happiness and peace
Yesterday Time flies so fast without realising we are already dead
Today Wasting our time is wasting our life
Tomorrow Time is valueless and priceless
Let yesterday remind me of the sweet memories of yester years
Let today be my reminder of treasuring our life
For tomorrow may bring uncertainty onto our life
So let us treasure and value our time
Time becomes priceless when we take things for granted
Time becomes meaningless when we face our final moment of our dead
Time becomes tomorrow heaven when we treasure the present moment.
© 2011 Lawrence Hiung
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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