Personal Talk
I
I AM not One who much or oft delight
To season my fireside with personal talk.--
Of friends, who live within an easy walk,
Or neighbours, daily, weekly, in my sight:
And, for my chance-acquaintance, ladies bright,
Sons, mothers, maidens withering on the stalk,
These all wear out of me, like Forms, with chalk
Painted on rich men's floors, for one feast-night.
Better than such discourse doth silence long,
Long, barren silence, square with my desire;
To sit without emotion, hope, or aim,
In the loved presence of my cottage-fire,
And listen to the flapping of the flame,
Or kettle whispering its faint undersong.
II
'Yet life,' you say, 'is life; we have seen and see,
And with a living pleasure we describe;
And fits of sprightly malice do but bribe
The languid mind into activity.
Sound sense, and love itself, and mirth and glee
Are fostered by the comment and the gibe.'
Even be it so; yet still among your tribe,
Our daily world's true Worldlings, rank not me!
Children are blest, and powerful; their world lies
More justly balanced; partly at their feet,
And part far from them: sweetest melodies
Are those that are by distance made more sweet;
Whose mind is but the mind of his own eyes,
He is a Slave; the meanest we can meet!
III
Wings have we,--and as far as we can go,
We may find pleasure: wilderness and wood,
Blank ocean and mere sky, support that mood
Which with the lofty sanctifies the low.
Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know,
Are a substantial world, both pure and good:
Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood,
Our pastime and our happiness will grow.
There find I personal themes, a plenteous store,
Matter wherein right voluble I am,
To which I listen with a ready ear;
Two shall be named, pre-eminently dear,--
The gentle Lady married to the Moor;
And heavenly Una with her milk-white Lamb,
IV
Nor can I not believe but that hereby
Great gains are mine; for thus I live remote
From evil-speaking; rancour, never sought,
Comes to me not; malignant truth, or lie.
Hence have I genial seasons, hence have I
Smooth passions, smooth discourse, and joyous thought:
And thus from day to day my little boat
Rocks in its harbour, lodging peaceably.
Blessings be with them--and eternal praise,
Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares--
The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs
Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays!
Oh! might my name be numbered among theirs,
Then gladly would I end my mortal days.
poem by William Wordsworth
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I Do Not Belong
Slave to the mind
It’s hard to find
The place that I belong....
Slave to the soul
I have played my role
To find where I belong
I do not belong here
I have done payed my fare
Why can’t I leave death?
I try until my last breath
You hold me here, hoping I’ll break
The happiness I hold is oh, so fake
I’m lost truly forgotten
In this world so begotten
I think now...why Death? Why hold me here?
And he answers.....Because of your fear
(Death) If I let you out you’ll get scared
(Death) Down here you have done fared
(Death) Very well I think isn’t depression joy?
I think not for a 14 year old boy...
I will leave Death, just you wait
(Death) I had you born on that fatal date!
(Death) Friday the Thirteenth I had you born
(Death) To have you walk this land as scorned
(Death) This is why I had you made
(Death) Depression is just a black parade
You had me made to live life of hate?
With this I will retaliate
I will fight against you, Death with all my might
To get past my petty fright
I’m afraid of life you know this Death
So you dragged me here into this depth
For the better of me? To help me be safe?
Ha! Your lies are beginning to chafe
(Death) But it’s true young child I only wished to help
Silence Death! Your voice is that of a young whelp!
I shall listen no longer I’m making my escape!
And leave to to this horrible fate
(Death) You think you can leave? Just like that?
(Death) I honor your courage with a tip of my hate
(Death) But you cannot escape here....It’s in your mind
In my mind you say? So devine!
I am in control of my mind
(Death) No, your not your just a fool
A fool who is stronger than you!
(Death) Stronger than Death? I think not
(Death) And now I will leave you here to rot
I’m over my fear and I will leave here
I’m leaving now Good Bye my dear
(Death) what’s this? Your truly leaving? But depression is your life!
I shall leave this world with a thrust of my knife
(Death) The world you say? Would you really?
I would do so absent-mindedly...
(Death) But we are here in your own mind
(Death) Would you kill yourself? I can’t really find
(Death) any doubt in your words...so ill leave just fine......
I have conquered you Death you said you were stronger!
....The lesson learned is I couldn’t be wronger
Death was warning me of the hates of this world
Makes everyone I know need to hurl
A lost love, a lost hope, a lost dream
Life isn’t as easy as it once seemed
That wasn’t Death I know this now
It was my own depression and it took its bow
It did a number on me I won’t recover
Not until a find another
Person just like me so we can talk
Maybe just take a little walk
And speak of our problems so we may be
Happy just like the world may seem
I have not found where I belong
But I am content with my little song
Made me feel better knowing the truths
Knowing my mind is aged well over my youth
With this my farewell I leave you here
Hoping that you know I hold all my friends dear
Written by Lucas Howes AKA Iruuka Blackheart
poem by Iruuka Blackheart
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The Grace Of God
It is but for the Grace of God I pen this-
Not so very long ago, I was asked to begin this
Life anew-as though one of His Children, reborn;
Now, I am Blessed with proof, which doth adorn
Mine own, once-ceased, fragile heart;
I know this to be His way to impart
To me and the rest of the world entire, a message:
As for hope, faith, and love-He is the last vestige
Of all that is pure and good in this world-
In His own image, mine shall e'er be unfurled
For all to see, as means by which to recompense this wondrous gift
Of new-found life, now and ever causal to the uplift
Of mine heart, mind, and inspired soul;
I know not if I've accomplished same, yet, this is my goal!
It is but through the Grace of God, and God alone
That I possess the very strength I do now own;
Prescience of same hath been gifted to all
Since the day when I nearly answered His Call
To come Home, at long last, to be among
His other Children, where I belong;
I was not ready; my presence was not then needed-
Though His Call I would have gladly heeded.
His purpose was to ready me for what is to come,
So that when all seemed to be lost, I would not succumb
To weakness and despair when I need be strong-
Nor to impatience, where the road is long.
'Thank You Heavenly Father, for the love You saw to provide;
For the Strength You gifted; for how You saw to decide
That I was so very important that You would guide me-
Not from above, in back, or in front-but beside me! '
-Maurice Harris,19 March 2011
poem by Maurice Harris
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A Sweet Song Of Love
Listen to this sweet song of love,
a different love song of our strife.
The victory of truth in life,
listen to this sweet song of love....
Walking together in our dreams where have we reached,
just look how blue is the sky here.
Our song is even sung by the birds here,
where ever our eyes can see is pure light spread.
Listen to this sweet song of love,
a different love song of our strife.
The victory of truth in life,
listen to this sweet song of love....
Cool cool breezes blow here always,
beyond the stars is our little cottage.
The rainbow colours are here to manage,
they where they commence their journeyof joys.
Listen to this sweet song of love,
a different love song of our strife.
The victory of truth in life,
listen to this sweet song of love....
Forbidden to meet each other in this world,
encircled within our customs were we both.
imprisoned and guarded were we both,
we died in breaking away from the customs of this world.
Listen to this sweet song of love,
a different love song of our strife.
The victory of truth in life,
listen to this sweet song of love....
poem by Renu Kakkar
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Different Emotions On The Same Spot
THE MAIDEN.
I'VE seen him before me!
What rapture steals o'er me!
Oh heavenly sight!
He's coming to meet me;
Perplex'd, I retreat me,
With shame take to flight.
My mind seems to wander!
Ye rocks and trees yonder,
Conceal ye my rapture.
Conceal my delight!
THE YOUTH.
'Tis here I must find her,
'Twas here she enshrined her,
Here vanish'd from sight.
She came, as to meet me,
Then fearing to greet me,
With shame took to flight.
Is't hope? Do I wander?
Ye rocks and trees yonder,
Disclose ye the loved one,
Disclose my delight!
THE LANGUISHING.
O'er my sad, fate I sorrow,
To each dewy morrow,
Veil'd here from man's sight
By the many mistaken,
Unknown and forsaken,
Here I wing my flight!
Compassionate spirit!
Let none ever hear it,--
Conceal my affliction,
Conceal thy delight!
THE HUNTER.
To-day I'm rewarded;
Rich booty's afforded
By Fortune so bright.
My servant the pheasants,
And hares fit for presents
Takes homeward at night;
Here see I enraptured
In nets the birds captured!--
Long life to the hunter!
Long live his delight!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Nature and Mother Vavroovahana Patra
The sky is cloudy;
The weather is chilly.
The morn is beautiful;
Mind is delightful.
Chilly breeze blows silently;
I enjoy the beauty gaily.
Mother smiles on the altar;
Provides peace pleasure.
In cool climate I pray mother;
Mind derives peace, pleasure.
She is the Eternal Truth;
Provides peace, mirth.
I pray mother silently;
Her blessings showers naturally.
Behold Mother everywhere;
Her omnipresence provides pleasure.
Mother smiles on the sands of river;
Attracts devout poets with pleasure.
Her blessings tranquilises our minds daily;
Praying, our minds enchant with peace gaily.
I silently surrender on the flowery feet;
Her blessings is an ocean of Delight.
Singing her devotional songs derive peace;
Praying the absolute Truth derive Divine Bliss.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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To A Young Lady, On Being Too Fond Of Music
Why is your mind thus all day long
Upon your music set;
Till reason's swallowed in a song,
Or idle canzonet?
I grant you, Melesinda, when
Your instrument was new,
I was well pleased to see you then
Its charms assiduous woo.
The rudiments of any art
Or mastery that we try,
Are only on the learner's part
Got by hard industry.
But you are past your first essays;
Whene'er you play, your touch,
Skilful and light, ensures you praise:
All beyond that's too much.
Music's sweet uses are, to smooth
Each rough and angry passion;
To elevate at once, and soothe:
A heavenly recreation.
But we misconstrue, and defeat
The end of any good;
When what should be our casual treat,
We make our constant food.
While, to the exclusion of the rest,
This single art you ply,
Your nobler studies are supprest,
Your books neglected lie.
Could you in what you so affect
The utmost summit reach;
Beyond what fondest friends expect,
Or skilfullest masters teach:
The skill you learned would not repay
The time and pains it cost,
Youth's precious season thrown away,
And reading-leisure lost.
A benefit to books we owe
Music can ne'er dispense;
The one does only sound bestow,
The other gives us sense.
poem by Charles Lamb
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The Maid Of Orleans
Humanity's bright image to impair.
Scorn laid thee prostrate in the deepest dust;
Wit wages ceaseless war on all that's fair,--
In angel and in God it puts no trust;
The bosom's treasures it would make its prey,--
Besieges fancy,--dims e'en faith's pure ray.
Yet issuing like thyself from humble line,
Like thee a gentle shepherdess is she--
Sweet poesy affords her rights divine,
And to the stars eternal soars with thee.
Around thy brow a glory she hath thrown;
The heart 'twas formed thee,--ever thou'lt live on!
The world delights whate'er is bright to stain,
And in the dust to lay the glorious low;
Yet fear not! noble bosoms still remain,
That for the lofty, for the radiant glow
Let Momus serve to fill the booth with mirth;
A nobler mind loves forms of nobler worth.
poem by Friedrich Schiller
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The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto VIII.
Preludes.
I Life of Life
What's that, which, ere I spake, was gone:
So joyful and intense a spark
That, whilst o'erhead the wonder shone,
The day, before but dull, grew dark?
I do not know; but this I know,
That, had the splendour lived a year,
The truth that I some heavenly show
Did see, could not be now more clear.
This know I too: might mortal breath
Express the passion then inspired,
Evil would die a natural death,
And nothing transient be desired;
And error from the soul would pass,
And leave the senses pure and strong
As sunbeams. But the best, alas,
Has neither memory nor tongue.
II The Revelation
An idle poet, here and there,
Looks round him; but, for all the rest,
The world, unfathomably fair,
Is duller than a witling's jest.
Love wakes men, once a lifetime each;
They lift their heavy lids, and look;
And, lo, what one sweet page can teach,
They read with joy, then shut the book.
And some give thanks, and some blaspheme
And most forget; but, either way,
That and the Child's unheeded dream
Is all the light of all their day.
III The Spirit's Epochs
Not in the crises of events,
Of compass'd hopes, or fears fulfill'd,
Or acts of gravest consequence,
Are life's delight and depth reveal'd.
The day of days was not the day;
That went before, or was postponed;
The night Death took our lamp away
Was not the night on which we groan'd.
I drew my bride, beneath the moon,
Across my threshold; happy hour!
But, ah, the walk that afternoon
We saw the water-flags in flower!
IV The Prototype
Lo, there, whence love, life, light are pour'd,
Veil'd with impenetrable rays,
Amidst the presence of the Lord
Co-equal Wisdom laughs and plays.
Female and male God made the man;
His image is the whole, not half;
And in our love we dimly scan
The love which is between Himself.
V The Praise of Love
Spirit of Knowledge, grant me this:
A simple heart and subtle wit
To praise the thing whose praise it is
That all which can be praised is it.
Sarum Plain.
I
Breakfast enjoy'd, 'mid hush of boughs
And perfumes thro' the windows blown;
Brief worship done, which still endows
The day with beauty not its own;
With intervening pause, that paints
Each act with honour, life with calm
(As old processions of the Saints
At every step have wands of palm),
We rose; the ladies went to dress,
And soon return'd with smiles; and then,
Plans fix'd, to which the Dean said ‘Yes,’
Once more we drove to Salisbury Plain.
We past my house (observed with praise
By Mildred, Mary acquiesced),
And left the old and lazy grays
Below the hill, and walk'd the rest.
II
The moods of love are like the wind,
And none knows whence or why they rise:
I ne'er before felt heart and mind
So much affected through mine eyes.
How cognate with the flatter'd air,
How form'd for earth's familiar zone,
She moved; how feeling and how fair
For others' pleasure and her own!
And, ah, the heaven of her face!
How, when she laugh'd, I seem'd to see
The gladness of the primal grace,
And how, when grave, its dignity!
Of all she was, the least not less
Delighted the devoted eye;
No fold or fashion of her dress
Her fairness did not sanctify.
I could not else than grieve. What cause?
Was I not blest? Was she not there?
Likely my own? Ah, that it was:
How like seem'd ‘likely’ to despair!
III
And yet to see her so benign,
So honourable and womanly,
In every maiden kindness mine,
And full of gayest courtesy,
Was pleasure so without alloy,
Such unreproved, sufficient bliss,
I almost wish'd, the while, that joy
Might never further go than this.
So much it was as now to walk,
And humbly by her gentle side
Observe her smile and hear her talk,
Could it be more to call her Bride?
I feign'd her won; the mind finite,
Puzzled and fagg'd by stress and strain
To comprehend the whole delight,
Made bliss more hard to bear than pain.
All good, save heart to hold, so summ'd
And grasp'd, the thought smote, like a knife,
How laps'd mortality had numb'd
The feelings to the feast of life;
How passing good breathes sweetest breath;
And love itself at highest reveals
More black than bright, commending death
By teaching how much life conceals.
IV
But happier passions these subdued,
When from the close and sultry lane,
With eyes made bright by what they view'd,
We emerged upon the mounded Plain.
As to the breeze a flag unfurls,
My spirit expanded, sweetly embraced
By those same gusts that shook her curls
And vex'd the ribbon at her waist.
To the future cast I future cares;
Breathed with a heart unfreighted, free,
And laugh'd at the presumptuous airs
That with her muslins folded me;
Till, one vague rack along my sky,
The thought that she might ne'er be mine
Lay half forgotten by the eye
So feasted with the sun's warm shine.
V
By the great stones we chose our ground
For shade; and there, in converse sweet,
Took luncheon. On a little mound
Sat the three ladies; at their feet
I sat; and smelt the heathy smell,
Pluck'd harebells, turn'd the telescope
To the country round. My life went well,
For once, without the wheels of hope;
And I despised the Druid rocks
That scowl'd their chill gloom from above,
Like churls whose stolid wisdom mocks
The lightness of immortal love.
And, as we talk'd, my spirit quaff'd
The sparkling winds; the candid skies
At our untruthful strangeness laugh'd;
I kiss'd with mine her smiling eyes;
And sweet familiarness and awe
Prevail'd that hour on either part,
And in the eternal light I saw
That she was mine; though yet my heart
Could not conceive, nor would confess
Such contentation; and there grew
More form and more fair stateliness
Than heretofore between us two.
poem by Coventry Patmore
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My Life Portrays An Ocean
My life portrays an ocean
So powerful, so strong
Breaking the sharp cliffs into rocks
As I go on
I am smooth yet I am gentle
Flowing with a smooth pace
Cutting off the sharp rocks
Into smooth round face
Ocean is a reassuring friend
And an unbeatable foe
So gentle, it tickles
So strong it breaks through
My life portrays an ocean
So powerful, so strong
Changing the face of world
As I go on.
poem by Myra Ahmad
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The World You Live In
Joe and suzie melson
May the world you live in bring the good life
That grows sweeter as it mellows with time
May the world you live in be a world love lives in
A love like your love and mine
May the children you bear bring contentment
As you guide them with your gentle hand
May you know all the things true love can bring
Between a woman and a man
May the dreams that you build always be filled
Keep the love shining in your eyes
If the bad times or the sad times ever come to you
Let this man be the one that you always turn to
May the seasons of your life touch you gently
And may happiness you always find
May these arms that surround you always be around you
And the world that you live in forever be mine
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dreaming
the alarm rings, the rooster crows
I wake up dreaming of you
yeah, this is how my day goes
in a locker deep inside of me
the silence screams out to be set free
only to be captured once again by you
this time lightning will strike twice
yep last night I was
dreaming of you
when I'm in my dreams
you are the one I see
in my dreams we are together
in my dreams were together and no one cares
in my dreams I'm in your arms where I can softly feel your heart beat
in my dreams you kiss me ever so softly and tell me that you love me
in my dreams there you are loving me
there I am so deeply in thought
there I am loving you with all I've got
in your dreams of me
can you see the starvation in my telling eyes
to be with you
when were finally together
my thirst for love will be quenched
in your sweet love I'll be drenched
my hunger for love will be satisfied
I am deeply in love and mesmerize
deeply in love with you
I love you with a love I never knew possible
a love as strong as titanium steal
now that you are here my search is over
I finally found my four leaf clover
one that loves me for me
and fits me like a warn in hat fits my head
I solemnly swear
my heart for you is, and I'll always be
true, pure, and compatibly right for your's
we beat no longer as two but as one
as I fall harder for you my heart becomes intertwined with yours
life with you together is what I wanted most of all
life with the other part of me is what I strive for
to be in your arms would be amazing
even for just one moment to be
with you I can be me, and you don't try to change me.
for we are the same
for years I have been dreaming
of a world of my design.
with a great man like you to stand by my side
I want to fly away with you, just me and you
I'll be yours for all of time
I love you with all my heart,
and for a hundred more years,
I hope we don't part,
and when we die, I'll meet you in the after life,
and we'll be together,
for eternity times seven
there's only one man I will ever love,
he lives in my dreams.
he calls my name and loves me with all his heart.
I live for my dreams and hope that one day they come true,
until then its lights out so
I can spend one more night with you
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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St. Barnabas
The world's a room of sickness, where each heart
Knows its own anguish and unrest;
The truest wisdom there, and noblest art,
Is his, who skills of comfort best;
Whom by the softest step and gentlest tone
Enfeebled spirits own,
And love to raise the languid eye,
When, like an angel's wing, they feel him fleeting by:-
FEEL only--for in silence gently gliding
Fain would he shun both ear and sight,
'Twixt Prayer and watchful Love his heart dividing,
A nursing-father day and night.
Such were the tender arms, where cradled lay,
In her sweet natal day,
The Church of JESUS; such the love
He to His chosen taught for His dear widowed Dove.
Warmed underneath the Comforter's safe wing
They spread th' endearing warmth around:
Mourners, speed here your broken hearts to bring,
Here healing dews and balms abound:
Here are soft hands that cannot bless in vain,
By trial taught your pain:
Here loving hearts, that daily know
The heavenly consolations they on you bestow.
Sweet thoughts are theirs, that breathe serenest calms,
Of holy offerings timely paid,
Of fire from heaven to bless their votive alms
And passions on GOD'S altar laid.
The world to them is closed, and now they shine
With rays of love divine,
Through darkest nooks of this dull earth
Pouring, in showery times, their glow of "quiet mirth."
New hearts before their Saviour's feet to lay,
This is their first, their dearest joy:
Their next from heart to heart to clear the way
For mutual love without alloy:
Never so blest as when in JESUS' roll
They write some hero-soul,
More pleased upon his brightening road
To wait, than if their own with all his radiance glowed.
O happy spirits, marked by God and man
Their messages of love to bear,
What though long since in Heaven your brows began,
The genial amarant wreath to wear,
And in th' eternal leisure of calm love
Ye banquet there above;
Yet in your sympathetic heart
We and our earthly griefs may ask and hope a part.
Comfort's true sons! amid the thoughts of down
That strew your pillow of repose,
Sure 'tis one joy to muse, how ye unknown
By sweet remembrance soothe our woes;
And how the spark ye lit, of heavenly cheer,
Lives in our embers here,
Where'er the cross is borne with smiles,
Or lightened secretly by Love's endearing wiles:
Where'er one Levite in the temple keeps
The watch-fire of his midnight prayer,
Or issuing thence, the eyes of mourners steeps
In heavenly balm, fresh gathered there;
Thus saints, that seem to die in earth's rude strife,
Only win double life:
They have but left our weary ways
To live in memory here, in Heaven by love and praise.
poem by John Keble
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The Coo of the Cushat
Over the smooth lawns, broider'd with violets,
Over the hedges of snow-white thorn,
Over the billowy, pink apple-blossoms,
The musical coo of the cushat is borne.
In the still depths of the dim old plantations,
Where the sweet whispering night-wind stirs
The delicate scent from the dew-sprinkled flowers,
It sings by its nest in the tall green firs.
So peaceful, so pure, so divinely contented,
The world out of sight and its true love nigh
Their little grey wings softly folded together,—
What dreams I have set to that melody!
I listen at dawn, and I listen at even;
I hear the notes bubbling all day long
Through the woodpecker's laugh and the chirp of the titmouse,—
Little dove, yours is the sweetest song!
'Tis not a sad song, though it sets me a-crying—
But gladness too deep to be spoken aloud;
Nor forlorn, though 'tis sung in the loneliest places—
But only too sacred to sing to a crowd.
I envy you, though you're so small and so humble;
I wish I were like you, you shy little dove—
So far from the world and so free from its passion,
Yet sure of your white eggs and sure of your love.
I wish I were pure from low earthly ambitions,
As quiet and calm and contented as you;
I wish my heart held such a well-spring of music,
That I were as gentle and trustful and true.
Little dove, you were worthy to carry the olive
Over the waters to Noah's host,
To die for the mother of Christ in the Temple,
To be chosen for shrine of the Holy Ghost.
And now you have only to live and be happy,
To rear up your young ones and teach them to coo;
O sing on, and teach me the heavenly lessons,
To be faithful and worthy of God's work too.
Teach me so humbly to take what He gives me,
The manifold duties, the great and the small;
Teach me so simply to do what He bids me,
Loving and trustful, and thankful for all.
poem by Ada Cambridge
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The Flesh and the Spirit
In secret place where once I stood
Close by the Banks of Lacrim flood,
I heard two sisters reason on
Things that are past and things to come.
One Flesh was call'd, who had her eye
On worldly wealth and vanity;
The other Spirit, who did rear
Her thoughts unto a higher sphere.
Sister, quoth Flesh, what liv'st thou on,
Nothing but Meditation?
Doth Contemplation feed thee so
Regardlessly to let earth go?
Can Speculation satisfy
Notion without Reality?
Dost dream of things beyond the Moon
And dost thou hope to dwell there soon?
Hast treasures there laid up in store
That all in th' world thou count'st but poor?
Art fancy-sick or turn'd a Sot
To catch at shadows which are not?
Come, come. I'll show unto thy sense,
Industry hath its recompence.
What canst desire, but thou maist see
True substance in variety?
Dost honour like? Acquire the same,
As some to their immortal fame;
And trophies to thy name erect
Which wearing time shall ne'er deject.
For riches dost thou long full sore?
Behold enough of precious store.
Earth hath more silver, pearls, and gold
Than eyes can see or hands can hold.
Affects thou pleasure? Take thy fill.
Earth hath enough of what you will.
Then let not go what thou maist find
For things unknown only in mind.
Spirit: Be still thou unregenerate part,
Disturb no more my settled heart,
For I have vowed (and so will do)
Thee as a foe still to pursue,
And combat with thee will and must
Until I see thee laid in th' dust.
Sisters we are, yea, twins we be,
Yet deadly feud 'twixt thee and me,
For from one father are we not.
Thou by old Adam wast begot,
But my arise is from above,
Whence my dear Father I do love.
Thou speak'st me fair, but hat'st me sore.
Thy flatt'ring shows I'll trust no more.
How oft thy slave, hast thou me made,
When I believed what thou hast said
And never had more cause of woe
Than when I did what thou bad'st do.
I'll stop mine ears at these thy charms,
And count them for my deadly harms.
Thy sinful pleasures I do hate,
Thy riches are to me no bait.
Thine honors do, nor will I love,
For my ambition lies above.
My greatest honor it shall be
When I am victor over thee,
And triumph shall with laurel head,
When thou my captive shalt be led.
How I do live, thou need'st not scoff,
For I have meat thou know'st not of.
The hidden manna I do eat,
The word of life it is my meat.
My thoughts do yield me more content
Than can thy hours in pleasure spent.
Nor are they shadows which I catch,
Nor fancies vain at which I snatch,
But reach at things that are so high,
Beyond thy dull capacity:
Eternal substance I do see,
With which enriched I would be.
Mine eye doth pierce the heavens and see
What is invisible to thee.
My garments are not silk nor gold,
Nor such like trash which earth doth hold,
But royal robes I shall have on,
More glorious than the glist'ring sun;
My crown not diamonds, pearls, and gold,
But such as angels' heads enfold.
The city where I hope to dwell,
There's none on earth can parallel.
The stately walls both high and strong,
Are made of precious jasper stone,
The gates of pearl, both rich and clear,
And angels are for porters there;
The streets thereof transparent gold,
Such as no eye did e're behold;
A crystal river there doth run,
Which doth proceed from the Lamb's throne.
Of life, there are the waters sure,
Which shall remain forever pure,
Nor sun, nor moon, they have no need,
For glory doth from God proceed.
No candle there, nor yet torchlight,
For there shall be no darksome night.
From sickness and infirmity
For evermore they shall be free;
Nor withering age shall e'er come there,
But beauty shall be bright and clear.
This city pure is not for thee,
For things unclean there shall not be.
If I of heaven may have my fill,
Take thou the world and all that will.
poem by Anne Bradstreet
Submitted by anonym
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Leave the World Something Real
Expectations of excellence
Unveil the gardens of the soul
These flowers given in mystery
Generations spire into a living fire
Hands made of silk angels
Troubadours play on corners
Architecture reveals future visions
These children with eyes of stars
Dross is burned away in sorrow
Pure gold stands in the gallery
Steeples rise in the blowing wind
There in the sky we see a child’s mind
Grow you seeds that become great trees
Find your part - seek to grow
Rise like clouds in the blue
Blossom into the inward realm
Seek your call and listen to your dreams
What is love?
Growth is love
Using what you have been given is love
Everything you become that is real and true
Is real and true love
Being in love should be for all, man is a family
Even your personal life relates to the whole
The celebration that two are growing together
Fly into the world of growth
Become yourself with the color of growth
Michelangelo left us something
Emily Dickinson left us something
Rembrandt left us something
Mary Beecher Stowe left us something
John Lennon left us something
Search, learn, know yourself
Become all you’re meant too
Selfishness takes and takes
Love gives and gives
When a rose blooms isn't it wonderful?
Grow and grow and never stop
Leave the World Something real
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cathchism
Oh! say not, dream not, heavenly notes
To childish ears are vain,
That the young mind at random floats,
And cannot reach the strain.
Dim or unheard, the words may fall,
And yet the heaven-taught mind
May learn the sacred air, and all
The harmony unwind.
Was not our Lord a little child,
Taught by degrees to pray,
By father dear and mother mild
Instructed day by day?
And loved He not of Heaven to talk
With children in His sight,
To meet them in His daily walk,
And to His arms invite?
What though around His throne of fire
The everlasting chant
Be wafted from the seraph choir
In glory jubilant?
Yet stoops He, ever pleased to mark
Our rude essays of love,
Faint as the pipe of wakening lark,
Heard by some twilight grove:
Yet is He near us, to survey
These bright and ordered files,
Like spring-flowers in their best array,
All silence and all smiles.
Save that each little voice in turn
Some glorious truth proclaims,
What sages would have died to learn,
Now taught by cottage dames.
And if some tones be false or low,
What are all prayers beneath
But cries of babes, that cannot know
Half the deep thought they breathe?
In His own words we Christ adore,
But angels, as we speak,
Higher above our meaning soar
Than we o'er children weak:
And yet His words mean more than they,
And yet He owns their praise:
Why should we think, He turns away
From infants' simple lays?
poem by John Keble
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Les Noyades
WHATEVER a man of the sons of men
Shall say to his heart of the lords above,
They have shown man verily, once and again,
Marvellous mercies and infinite love.
In the wild fifth year of the change of things,
When France was glorious and blood-red, fair
With dust of battle and deaths of kings,
A queen of men, with helmeted hair,
Carrier came down to the Loire and slew,
Till all the ways and the waves waxed red:
Bound and drowned, slaying two by two,
Maidens and young men, naked and wed.
They brought on a day to his judgment-place
One rough with labour and red with fight,
And a lady noble by name and face,
Faultless, a maiden, wonderful, white.
She knew not, being for shame’s sake blind,
If his eyes were hot on her face hard by.
And the judge bade strip and ship them, and bind
Bosom to bosom, to drown and die.
The white girl winced and whitened; but he
Caught fire, waxed bright as a great bright flame
Seen with thunder far out on the sea,
Laughed hard as the glad blood went and came.
Twice his lips quailed with delight, then said,
“I have but a word to you all, one word;
Bear with me; surely I am but dead;”
And all they laughed and mocked him and heard.
“Judge, when they open the judgment-roll,
I will stand upright before God and pray:
‘Lord God, have mercy on one man’s soul,
For his mercy was great upon earth, I say.
“‘Lord, if I loved thee—Lord, if I served—
If these who darkened thy fair Son’s face
I fought with, sparing not one, nor swerved
A hand’s-breadth, Lord, in the perilous place—
“‘I pray thee say to this man, O Lord,
Sit thou for him at my feet on a throne.
I will face thy wrath, though it bite as a sword,
And my soul shall burn for his soul, and atone.
“‘For, Lord, thou knowest, O God most wise,
How gracious on earth were his deeds towards me.
Shall this be a small thing in thine eyes,
That is greater in mine than the whole great sea?’
“I have loved this woman my whole life long,
And even for love’s sake when have I said
‘I love you’? when have I done you wrong,
Living? but now I shall have you dead.
“Yea, now, do I bid you love me, love?
Love me or loathe, we are one not twain.
But God be praised in his heaven above
For this my pleasure and that my pain!
“For never a man, being mean like me,
Shall die like me till the whole world dies.
I shall drown with her, laughing for love; and she
Mix with me, touching me, lips and eyes.
“Shall she not know me and see me all through,
Me, on whose heart as a worm she trod?
You have given me, God requite it you,
What man yet never was given of God.”
O sweet one love, O my life’s delight,
Dear, though the days have divided us,
Lost beyond hope, taken far out of sight,
Not twice in the world shall the gods do thus.
Had it been so hard for my love? but I,
Though the gods gave all that a god can give,
I had chosen rather the gift to die,
Cease, and be glad above all that live.
For the Loire would have driven us down to the sea,
And the sea would have pitched us from shoal to shoal;
And I should have held you, and you held me,
As flesh holds flesh, and the soul the soul.
Could I change you, help you to love me, sweet,
Could I give you the love that would sweeten death,
We should yield, go down, locked hands and feet,
Die, drown together, and breath catch breath;
But you would have felt my soul in a kiss,
And known that once if I loved you well;
And I would have given my soul for this
To burn for ever in burning hell.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flesh & Blood
Im not that someone whos got what you want
I can do nothing but watch what you do
You just want someone to kiss you good night
But lips are never enough to get you through
You stole my nights and you got your way
Now you got me dying inside , oh baby
Ebony dont walk out on me
Listen to what I say
Pick up the pieces of my life into the night of day
How do you break this heart of steel
Nobody ever could
Open the pages of my life
Im only flesh and blood
Ill be your savior but baby I swear
Im not living my life over you
Some satisfaction you get if you dare
But is it ever enough to get you through
You stole my mind and you watch me fall
Now you leave the scene of the crime,oh no
Ebony dont walk out on me
I never thought you could
Im only what you make of me
Im only flesh and blood
Im only flesh and blood
When youre gone , youll be leaving behind,
A broken man with something to hide
Oh, lost in the night in a town without pity
You learn how to cry. you learn how to cry
(break)
Ebony dont walk out on me
Listen to what I say
Pick up the pieces of my life into the night of day
How do you break this heart of steel
Nobody ever could
Open the pages of my life
Im only flesh and blood
Gone are the days that came and went
Houses are made of wood
Live in a world of sand and stone
Im only flesh and blood
Ebony dont walk out on me
I never thought you could
Im only what you make of me
Im only flesh and blood
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hymns to the Night 6: Longing for Death
Into the bosom of the earth,
Out of the Light's dominion,
Death's pains are but a bursting forth,
Sign of glad departure.
Swift in the narrow little boat,
Swift to the heavenly shore we float.
Blessed be the everlasting Night,
And blessed the endless slumber.
We are heated by the day too bright,
And withered up with care.
We're weary of a life abroad,
And we now want our Father's home.
What in this world should we all
Do with love and with faith?
That which is old is set aside,
And the new may perish also.
Alone he stands and sore downcast
Who loves with pious warmth the Past.
The Past where the light of the senses
In lofty flames did rise;
Where the Father's face and hand
All men did recognize;
And, with high sense, in simplicity
Many still fit the original pattern.
The Past wherein, still rich in bloom,
Man's strain did burgeon glorious,
And children, for the world to come,
Sought pain and death victorious,
And, through both life and pleasure spake,
Yet many a heart for love did break.
The Past, where to the flow of youth
God still showed himself,
And truly to an early death
Did commit his sweet life.
Fear and torture patiently he bore
So that he would be loved forever.
With anxious yearning now we see
That Past in darkness drenched,
With this world's water never we
Shall find our hot thirst quenched.
To our old home we have to go
That blessed time again to know.
What yet doth hinder our return
To loved ones long reposed?
Their grave limits our lives.
We are all sad and afraid.
We can search for nothing more --
The heart is full, the world is void.
Infinite and mysterious,
Thrills through us a sweet trembling --
As if from far there echoed thus
A sigh, our grief resembling.
Our loved ones yearn as well as we,
And sent to us this longing breeze.
Down to the sweet bride, and away
To the beloved Jesus.
Have courage, evening shades grow gray
To those who love and grieve.
A dream will dash our chains apart,
And lay us in the Father's lap.
Paradise / The Spell
I feel you trying,
though in my heart I know you're lying.
And though your love for me is dying,
I see you crying.
It's the pain of your secret heart
bringing you to tears, filling you with fears
for your mind and for your soul.
I touch you softly now,
born on by hope until the end, somehow.
I am a man and I must keep my vows,
I must go on.
But the wall of your secret heart
keeps my distance clear, helps my footsteps fall
back in line inside my mind.
What's the use? You turned me loose
and left me here to cry.
Where's the love we talked about?
Where's my sunny sky?
Secret hearts and sorry tales
will never help love grow.
Spread your wings my darkened soul,
the time has come to go.
I will not be hurried down
or blackened by you lies.
I must go and find my dreams
and live in paradise.
(Repeat and fade)
What do you think I am? Do you think I'm dreaming?
Don't you know I know what it is you're schemeing?
Who did you think gave you the right,
hidden by the dead of night,
to take the world and turn it upside down,
when it should be round?
It seems I made it just in time
to use my reason and my rhyme
to save us from the evils of your mind.
I will cast the spell, be sure I cast it well.
I will light a fire, kindled with desire.
I'll fill you with fear so you'll know I'm here
and I won't be treated like a fool.
Stop what you're pretending, there'll be no happy ending.
I'm alive and darkness is my tool.
But when the night is over,
and daytime steals your cover,
the goodness of the morning sun
will wear away what you have done
and leave you cold.
I have no need for moonlight.
You're wrong to trust in sunlight.
For I exist, not just in storms,
but in life itself, in so many forms
to leave you cold.
I will leave you now, but you wont defeat me.
You had best beware when you come to meet me.
Love and truth will follow me,
an army of reality,
brought from every corner of the world.
You will never break the spell.
I summon all the fires of hell
and this is my advice for what it's worth:
Let us not begin this fight we cannot win.
Be sure you're watching me.
Cause all through your life,
every day and every night
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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