She Was a Phantom of Delight
She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;
Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;
A dancing Shape, an Image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.
I saw her upon a nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A Creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.
And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A Being breathing thoughtful breath,
A Traveler between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly planned,
To warm, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright,
With something of angelic light.
poem by William Wordsworth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Perfect Woman
SHE was a phantom of delight
When first she gleam'd upon my sight;
A lovely apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;
Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful dawn;
A dancing shape, an image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
I saw her upon nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A being breathing thoughtful breath,
A traveller between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly plann'd,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With something of angelic light.
poem by William Wordsworth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A gracious silhouette on the path of light
A gracious silhouette on the path of light
She was a phantom of delight
when she first gleamed upon my sight
A lovely apparition, upon the earth, sent
to be the world's ornaments
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair
Like the golden dusk her glided hair
But all things else about her said or drawn
are as the joy of emerged from dawn
A dancing spirit, a wanton shape, an image glee and gay
to haunt, to startle and beguile as a piercing ray
copy rights 2010
The M.A. Degree
[After Wordsworth.]
It was a phantom of delight
When first it gleamed upon my sight,
A scholarly distinction, sent
To be a student's ornament.
The hood was rich beyond compare,
The gown was a unique affair.
By this, by that my mind was drawn
Then, in my academic dawn;
A dancing shape, an image gay
Before me then was my M.A.
I saw it upon nearer view,
A glory, yet a bother too!
For I perceived that I should be
Involved in much Philosophy
(A branch in which I could but meet
Works that were neither light nor sweet);
In Mathematics, not too good
For human nature's daily food
And Classics, rendered in the styles
Of Kelly, Bohn, and Dr. Giles.
And now I own, with some small spleen,
A most confounded ass I've been;
The glory seems an empty breath,
And I am nearly bored to death
With Reason, Consciousness, and Will,
And other things beyond my skill,
Discussed in books all darkly planned
And more in number than the sand.
Yet that M.A. still haunts my sight,
With something of its former light.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Drawing a Purple Blank Verse after Gelett BURGESS Purple Cow
DRAWING A PURPLE BLANK VERSE
Kindly refer to notes
I've never cowed to purple prose
know now I'll never write it,
for anyhow true writer knows
hand stretched finds critics bite it.
I've never wowed, and goodness knows
hacks lack the knack of versing,
won't bow, kowtow to backhand blows,
preferring role reverse_sing.
Ah, yes, I wrote on purple prose,
yet can't regret I penned it,
one far prefers rhyme's timeless flows,
no blush need rush defend it.
10 February 2009
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Parody Gelett BURGESS The Purple Cow
Author notes
For original and variations on a theme see bekiw
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THE PURPLE COW
I never saw a Purple Cow,
I never hope to see one,
But I can tell you anyhow,
I’d rather see than be one.
Gelett BURGESS 1866_1951
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CONFESSION
Ah, yes! I wrote the « Purple Cow » -
I’m Sorry, now, I Wrote it,
But I can Tell you Anyhow
I’ll Kill you if you Quote it.
Gelett BURGESS 1866_1951
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A Perfect Woman
She was a Phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;
Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;
A dancing Shape, an Image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
I saw her upon nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin-liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A Creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food,
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A Being breathing thoughtful breath,
A Traveller between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With something of angelic light.
William Wordsworth
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THE ABOMINABLE SNOWMAN
I’ve never seen an abominable snowman,
I’m hoping not to see one,
I’m also hoping, if I do,
That it will be a wee one.
Ogden NASH 1902_1971 Parody Gelett BURGESS – The Purple Cow
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PURPLACTIC WHEY
I've never seen a purple cow
I never hope to see one
But from the milk we're getting now
There certainly must be one
Ogden NASH 1902_1971 Parody Gelett BURGESS – The Purple Cow
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PURPLE POINT RAISED
A question 'bout a purple cow
Brings up another matter
What colour, pray, would be the steak
When sitting on the platter?
Author Unknown 0179 Parody Gelett BURGESS – The Purple Cow
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TO A COW
Corniferous wet-nurse of the human race,
Calm, comfortable cow, with placid pride
Yielding your offering at eventide
To the brown goddess who with rustic grace
Bends o’er the shining pail her knees embrace,
Clad in simple smock and apron wide
Whose fickle folds make scant pretense to hide
The lissome lines they lovingly retrace!
Now all alone, with brimming pail, she wends
Her homeward way across the field, and now
The pathway of the meadow slope ascends,
Till gathered in the purple of its brow
Her fading shape into the twilight blends,
Leaving to me the darkness – and the cow.
Oliver HERFORD
Parody Thomas GRAY – Elegy in a Country Churchyard
and Gelett BURGESS – The Purple Cow
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POE'S PURPLE COW
One lonely, gloomy, windswept eve
A mournful sound did I perceive.
I cast my eyes beyond the pane
And to my horror down the lane
Came a sight; I froze inside
A spectral cow with purple hide.
HOLLANDER Susan and David - Parody Edgar Allan POE
and Gelett BURGESS – The Purple Cow
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EMILYDICKINSON'S PURPLE COW
On far off hills
And distant rills,
Sounds a distant moo.
A purple spot
I think I caught,
Yes! I see it, too!
In Bovine majesty she stands,
Her purple tail she swings,
The amethyst cow,
To my heart somehow,
Perfect joy she brings.
And yet the thought of being
Of that race of royal hue,
Though glowing like the violet sweet,
It really would not do.
HOLLANDER Susan and David - Parody Emily Dickinson
and Gelett BURGESS – The Purple Cow
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DIVERSIONS OF THE RE-ECHO CLUB
It is with pleasure that we announce our ability to offer to the public the papers of the Re-Echo Club. This club, somewhat after the order of the Echo Club, late of Boston, takes pleasure in trying to better what is done. On the occasion of the meeting of which the following gems of poesy are the result, the several members of the club engaged to write up the well-known tradition of the Purple Cow in more elaborate form than the quatrain made famous by Mr. Gelett Burgess
'I never saw a Purple Cow,
I never hope to see one;
But I can tell you anyhow,
I'd rather see than be one.'
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I Mr. J. Milton
Hence, vain deluding cows.
The herd of folly, without colour bright,
How little you delight,
Or fill the Poet's mind, or songs arouse!
But, hail! thou goddess gay of feature!
Hail, divinest purple creature!
Oh, Cow, thy visage is too bright
To hit the sense of human sight.
And though I'd like, just once, to see thee,
I never, never, never'd be thee!
Carolyn WELLS 1869_1942 Parody Gelett BURGESS The Purple Cow
and John Milton
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II Mr. P. Bysshe Shelley
Jai to thee, blithe spirit!
Cow thou never wert;
But in life to cheer it
Playest thy full part
In purple lines of unpremeditated art.
The pale purple colour
Melts around thy sight
Like a star, but duller,
In the broad daylight.
I'd see thee, but I would not be thee if I might.
We look before and after
At cattle as they browse;
Our most hearty laughter
Something sad must rouse.
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of Purple Cows.
Carolyn WELLS 1869_1942 Parody Gelett BURGESS The Purple Cow
and Percy Bysshe SHELLEY – Ode to a Skylark
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III Mr. W. Wordsworth
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dee;
A Cow whom there were few to praise
And very few to see.
A violet by a mossy stone
Greeting the smiling East
Is not so purple, I must own,
As that erratic beast.
She lived unknown, that Cow, and so
I never chanced to see;
But if I had to be one, oh,
The difference to me!
Carolyn WELLS 1869_1942 Parody Gelett BURGESS The Purple Cow
and William Wordsworth LUCY
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IV Mr. T. Gray
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea;
I watched them slowly wend their weary way,
But, ah, a Purple Cow I did not see.
Full many a cow of purplest ray serene
Is haply grazing where I may not see;
Full many a donkey writes of her, I ween,
But neither of these creatures would I be
Carolyn WELLS 1869_1942 Parody Gelett BURGESS The Purple Cow
And Thomas GRAY – Elegy written in a Country Churchyard
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V Mr. J. W. Riley
There, little Cow, don't cry!
You are brindle and brown, I know.
And with wild, glad hues
Of reds and blues,
You will never gleam and glow.
But though not pleasing to the eye,
There, little Cow, don't cry, don't cry.
Carolyn WELLS 1869_1942 Parody Gelett BURGESS The Purple Cow
And John RILEY
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VI: Lord A. Tennyson
Ask me no more. A cow I fain would see
Of purple tint, like a sun-soaked grape -
Of purple tint, like royal velvet cape -
But such a creature I would never be -
Ask me no more.
Carolyn WELLS 1869_1942 Parody Gelett BURGESS The Purple Cow
And Alfred TENNYSON
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VII Mr. R. Browning
All that I know
Of a certain Cow
Is it can throw,
Somewhere, somehow,
Now a dart of red,
Now a dart of blue
(That makes purple, 'tis said) .
I would fain see, too.
The Cow that darkles the red and the blue!
Carolyn WELLS 1869_1942 Parody Gelett BURGESS The Purple Cow
And Robert BROWNING
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VIII Mr. J. Keats
A cow of purple is a joy forever.
Its loveliness increases. I have never
Seen this phenomenon. Yet ever keep
A brave lookout; lest I should be alseep
When she comes by. For, though I would not be one,
I've oft imagined 'twould be joy to see one.
Carolyn WELLS 1869_1942 Parody Gelett BURGESS The Purple Cow
And John KEATS – Endymion
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IX Mr. D. G. Rossetti
The Purple Cow strayed in the glade;
(Oh, my soul! but the milk is blue!)
She strayed and strayed and strayed and strayed
(And I wail and I cry Wa-hoo!) .
I've never seen her - nay, not I;
(Oh, my soul! but the milk is blue!)
Yet were I that Cow I should want to die.
(And I wail and I cry Wa-hoo!) ,
But in vain my tears I strew.
Carolyn WELLS 1869_1942 Parody Gelett BURGESS The Purple Cow
And Dante Gabriel ROSSETTI
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X Mr. T. Aldrich
Somewhere in some faked nature place,
In Wonderland, in Nonsense Land,
Two darkling shapes met face to face,
And bade each other stand.
'And who are you! ' said each to each;
'Tell me your title, anyhow.'
One said, 'I am the Papal Bull.'
Parody Carolyn WELLS 1869_1942 Parody Gelett BURGESS The Purple Cow
And Thomas Aldrich
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XI Mr. E. Allan Poe
Open then I flung a shutter,
And, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a Purple Cow which gayly tripped around my floor. Not the least obeisance made she,
Not a moment stopped or stayed she,
But with mien of chorus lady perched herself above my door.
On a dusty bust of Dante perched and sat above my door.
And that Purple Cow unflitting
Still is sitting - still is sitting
On that dusty bust of Dante just above my chamber door,
And her horns have all the seeming
Of a demon's that is screaming
And the arc-light o'er her streaming
Cast her shadow on the floor.
And my soul from out that pool of Purple shadow on the floor,
Shall be lifted Nevermore!
Carolyn WELLS 1869_1942 Parody Gelett BURGESS The Purple Cow
And Edgar Allan POE - The Raven
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XII Mr. H. Longfellow
The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wing of night
As ballast is wafted downward
From an airship in its flight.
I dream of a purple creature
Which is not as kine are now;
And resembles cattle only
As Cowper resembles a cow.
Such cows have power to quiet
Our restless thoughts and rude;
They come like the Benedictine
That follows after food.
Carolyn WELLS 1869_1942 Parody Gelett BURGESS The Purple Cow
And Henry Wadsworth LONGFELLOW – The Day is Done
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XIII Mr. A. Swinburne
Oh, Cow of rare rapturous vision,
Oh, purple, impalpable Cow,
Do you browse in the Dream Field Elysian,
Are you purpling pleasantly now?
By the the side of wan waves do you languish?
Or in the lithe lush of the grove?
While vainly I search in my anguish,
O Bovine of mauve!
Despair in my bosom is sighing,
Hope's star has sunk sadly to rest;
Though cows of rare sorts I am buying,
Not one breathes a balm to my breast.
Oh, rapturous, rose-crowned occasion,
When I such a glory might see!
But a cow of a purple persuasion
I never would be.
Carolyn WELLS 1869_1942 Parody Gelett BURGESS The Purple Cow
And Algernon Charles SWINBURNE Dolores
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XIV Mr. A. Dobson
I'd love to see
A Purple Cow,
Oh, Goodness me!
I'd love to see
But not to be
One. Anyhow,
I'd love to see
A Purple Cow.
Carolyn WELLS 1869_1942 Parody Gelett BURGESS The Purple Cow
And Austin DOBSON
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XV Mr. O. Herford
Children, observe the Purple Cow,
You cannot see her, anyhow;
And, little ones, you need not hope
Your eyes will e'er attain such scope.
But if you ever have a choice
To be, or see, lift up your voice
And choose to see. For surely you
Don't want to browse around and moo.
Carolyn WELLS 1869_1942 Parody Gelett BURGESS The Purple Cow
And Oliver HERFORD
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XVI Mr. H. C. Bunner
Oh, what's the way to Arcady,
Where all the cows are purple?
Ah, woe is me! I never hope
On such a sight my eyes to ope:
But as I sing in merry glee
Along the road to Arcady,
Perchance full soon I may espy
A Purple Cow come dancing by.
Heigho! I then shall see one.
Her horns bedecked with ribbons gay,
And garlanded with rosy may, -
A tricksy sight. Still I must say
I'd rather see than be one.
Carolyn WELLS 1869_1942 Parody Gelett BURGESS The Purple Cow
And H.C. BUNNER
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XVII Mr. A. Swinburne
(Who was so enthused that he made a second attempt)
Only in dim, drowsy depths of a dream do I dare to delight in deliciously dreaming
Cows there may be of a passionate purple, - cows of a violent violet hue;
Ne'er have I seen such a sight, I am certain it is but a demi-delirious dreaming -
Ne'er may I happily harbour a hesitant hope in my heart that my dream my come true.
Sad is my soul, and my senses are sobbing so strong is my strenuous spirit to see one.
Dolefully, drearily doomed to despair as warily wearily watching I wait;
Thoughts thickly thronging are thrilling and throbbing; to see is a glorious gain - but to be one!
That were a darker and direfuller destiny, that were a fearfuller, frightfuller fate!
Carolyn WELLS 1869_1942 Parody Gelett BURGESS The Purple Cow
And Algernon Charles SWINBURNE - Nepthelidia
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Spirited Reflections on a Purple Cow - after Gelett BURGESS and William Wordsworth
Kind kin[e] we see through ultra-violet light
seem now to be cowed phantoms of de-light -
but let well be, our ghosts are seen unsought,
yet set them free, pot roast has been unwrought.
23 May 1982
Parody Gelett BURGESS The Purple Cow
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poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Love Outshines The Summer Sun (Sonnet Corona)
(after William Shakespeare)
I
My love outshines the summer sun,
even stars in their remote twinkling light
and her eyes are more beautiful, each one
than the stars glimmering at night
Her cheeks is dimpled cute
her hair is an auburn crown,
her cheeks is rosy beyond repute
her hair is sun-shot twisting in a way of their own.
Her lips are more soft and warm
and her spirit is more mild
than a ray of light falling on my arm
or at times more free and wild
than birds where they fly,
my love is like the radiant sapphire sky.
II
My love is like the radiant sapphire sky
like the breeze rustling through trees
so lovely on my eye,
eager to please.
My love is like the summer sun,
like the blue hued sea
always warm and full of fun,
touching me gently
even when the darkness calls
and when time goes to its finality
like a star her light still falls,
my love stays true to me
in every thing her face I see
so gentle, sweet and free.
III
So gentle, sweet and free
my love lives her life
but I long for her to be near to me
in a world without any strive.
Like a lily prospering alone in the marsh
blooming pure and serene,
my darling lives unknown to a world harsh
out of control, away from the limelight scene
and in that rural place
her beauty is untouched by makeup,
filled with a sweet grace
and even in the morning when she wakes up
the sun is in her hair,
my darling is really fair.
IV
My darling is really fair
there are stars in her eyes,
she’s the most beautiful flower found anywhere,
her eyes are much more pure than the bluest skies.
When she smiles at me,
smiling tenderly,
I in her smile blessings see
as if love is there in all of its glory.
Still more so the bliss
that is caught in her kiss
that comes from the divine
which she is making mine
and sometimes the beauty makes her cry,
when the day flutters by.
V
When the day flutters by
with the sun setting red
you will find my love and I
where stars come out from bed,
then like a butterfly
the sun kisses the night,
touches the dark low and high
before it goes by with its last light
and she unloosens my tie
while we watch the full yellow moon,
while the fire in her eyes lie
sparkling, much brighter than the sunny afternoon,
but with a passing bat flying low she catches a fright,
while the stars are shining bright.
VII
While the stars are shining bright
like jewels in the sky’s crown
on a winter night
it has tranquillity, a beauty of its own,
her eyes are radiant,
as if aflame
lovely and brilliant
and of some she know the name
and something indiscernibly small
creeps into the very soul, into the heart
and of it that is all,
a smouldering, something with which we cannot part:
to me she remains the only one in joy and fun,
my love outshines the summer sun.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woman is in the lap of A, B, C.....
A says
Woman is attractive flower
B says
Woman is beautiful gift
C says
Woman is great source of comfort
D says
woman has a sweet dialect
E says
Eastern or western, woman is the worthy
F says
woman is central figure of family
G says
woman always glitters with the rays of her partner
H says
woman has holy spirits
I says
woman has basic institution in her lap
J says
woman is a full of joy
K says
woman is head of kisses
L says
woman is lovely thing
M says
woman is symbol of modesty
N says
nails increase the beauty of woman
O says
woman is an pretty ornament
P says
woman is princess
Q says
woman is queen
R says
woman is rare gift
S says
woman is a main source of survival the human being
T says
woman has true spirits of love
U says
woman is an peaceful umbrella
V says
woman is valley of love
W says
woman is wafer
X says
woman has sweet kisses
Y says
woman is your jewellary
z says
woman has great zeal
april 11,2008
abdul razaq
poem by Abdul Razaq
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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His Litany to the Holy Spirit
In the hour of my distress,
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When I lie within my bed,
Sick in heart, and sick in head,
And with doubts discomforted,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drown'd in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
Whe the artless doctor sees
No one hope but of his fees,
And his skill runs on the lees,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When his potion and his pill,
Has or none or little skill,
Meet for nothing, but to kill,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the passing-bell doth toll,
And the Furies in a shoal
Come to fright a parting soul,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the tapers now burn blue,
And the comforters are few,
And that number more than true,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the priest his last hath prayed,
And I nod to what is said,
'Cause my speech is now decayed,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When (God knows) I'm toss'd about,
Either with despair or doubt,
Yet before the glass be out,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the Tempter me pursu'th
With the sins of all my youth,
And half damns me with untruth,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the flames and hellish cries
Fright mine ears and fright mine eyes,
And all terrors me surprise,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the Judgment is revealed,
And that open'd which was seal'd,
When to Thee I have appeal'd,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
poem by Robert Herrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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His Litany, To The Holy Spirit
In the hour of my distress,
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When I lie within my bed,
Sick in heart, and sick in head,
And with doubts discomforted,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drown'd in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the artless doctor sees
No one hope, but of his fees,
And his skill runs on the lees,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When his potion and his pill,
Has, or none, or little skill,
Meet for nothing but to kill,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the passing-bell doth toll,
And the furies in a shoal
Come to fright a parting soul,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the tapers now burn blue,
And the comforters are few,
And that number more than true,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the priest his last hath pray'd,
And I nod to what is said,
'Cause my speech is now decay'd,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When, God knows, I'm tost about
Either with despair, or doubt;
Yet, before the glass be out,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the tempter me pursu'th
With the sins of all my youth,
And half damns me with untruth,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the flames and hellish cries
Fright mine ears, and fright mine eyes,
And all terrors me surprise,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the Judgment is reveal'd,
And that open'd which was seal'd;
When to Thee I have appeal'd,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
poem by Robert Herrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Night and Day
I painted a picture of the day
Nature in her sweet tranquil
Her beauty was dazzling in every way
By her sun upon the hill!
I made her grasses the color green
Blue the color of the sea
In pink and red her flowers sheen
In brown, her rocks sit solitary
I painted a picture of the night
But nature has lost her spark
I colored her beauty in black and white
What glory is there in the dark?
I made her sky with dotted light
Of stars in their endless space
But there was no color to make her bright
But the moon with her golden face
I placed both pictures side by side
Media of dark and light
The night to nature, a time to hide
The day her sweet delight
Were i to vote between these two
I will give all to the day
I will paint in her a perfect view
I will have her all the way!
But wait! There is more than meet the eyes
For things are not all we see
For all stuffs are made of good and ills
Beyond our phylosophy
The day i painted with color bright
Is marred with worries and woes
And just a covering with colors and light
Of all beneath her throes.
Now, the night in her dreaded sight
When half the world is asleep
Is an illusion, a passage of day to night
Whereon i sleep free and deep
Free from all worldly pain indeed
That by day plagued every soul
And away from mortals lust and greed
Is a man's life long goal
I cannot choose one, the other bid farewell
In both, all things are one
So i kept the day, and the night as well
For both made me a man! !
poem by Okonkwo Osamedua. Allen
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Three Faces
I.--VENTIMIGLIA
The sky and sea glared hard and bright and blank:
Down the one steep street, with slow steps firm and free,
A tall girl paced, with eyes too proud to thank
The sky and sea.
One dead flat sapphire, void of wrath or glee,
Through bay on bay shone blind from bank to bank
The weary Mediterranean, drear to see.
More deep, more living, shone her eyes that drank
The breathless light and shed again on me,
Till pale before their splendour waned and shrank
The sky and sea.
II.--GENOA
Again the same strange might of eyes, that saw
In heaven and earth nought fairer, overcame
My sight with rapture of reiterate awe,
Again the same.
The self-same pulse of wonder shook like flame
The spirit of sense within me: what strange law
Had bid this be, for blessing or for blame?
To what veiled end that fate or chance foresaw
Came forth this second sister face, that came
Absolute, perfect, fair without a flaw,
Again the same?
III.--VENICE
Out of the dark pure twilight, where the stream
Flows glimmering, streaked by many a birdlike bark
That skims the gloom whence towers and bridges gleam
Out of the dark,
Once more a face no glance might choose but mark
Shone pale and bright, with eyes whose deep slow beam
Made quick the twilight, lifeless else and stark.
The same it seemed, or mystery made it seem,
As those before beholden; but St. Mark
Ruled here the ways that showed it like a dream
Out of the dark.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Is Devout
The daily fight.
The human souls ignite.
The fire burns in the twilight.
Stars so bright.
God please, give me your might.
Your strength. I promise I'll wait.
Does my heart have what it takes.
The true divine.
Drinking some red wine.
Celebrate life, celebrate death.
Celebrate this worlds mess.
Only confess when you truly need forgiveness.
The daily fight.
The human soul ignite.
The fire burns in the twilight.
Stars so bright.
God please give me your might.
Patients, sir I salute you for having such courage.
On the brink.
Can you feel the energy surge.
Splurge, control yourself,
and you want the most for
it could make you into a forever haunting ghost.
So carefully tip toe.
Cause eggshells are just below your feet.
And you could slip as you run you know.
Waiting can be constant agony.
Its driving me right into the clouds.
Come hell or high water
I shall be devout.
You are forever mine even as time passes by.
I don't care how or why.
There will be no compromise.
Love lasts even after you die.
The daily fight.
The human soul ignites.
The fire burns in the twilight.
Stars so bright.
Oh oh tonight god please give me your might.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She was a phantom of delight When first she gleam'd upon my sight A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament.
quote by William Wordsworth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Eyes Of A Woman
Have you ever looked into the eyes of a woman
You can tell a lot about a woman, just from her eyes
No eyes could ever subdue the artistry of a woman's
As they say, the beauty of a woman lies in her eyes
And indeed they do, just look at those gorgeous eyes
Look at those olive green eyes, full of ecstasy and desire
I've never seen such angelic eyes in my life
Which is what led me to this paper and pen
As from the first time my eyes met them
I could not simply get them out of my head
I could not help but notice Oh, those dazzling green eyes
I am left speechless, as I remember that sight of grace
You indeed can tell a lot about a woman just from her eyes
Green is the colour of nature, and all the beauty it withholds
Symbolizing growth, harmony, freshness and fertility
Green has strong emotional correspondence with safety
It withholds great healing power, looking at them, I noticed
Being the most restful colour for the human eye, I realised
Green suggests Stability and endurance, indicates growth and hope
Olive green is the traditional colour of peace
Just from looking at your enticing green eyes, I noticed
The kind of woman that you are, how special you indeed are
My sweet love I do bid you, never have my eyes ever seen
Such magnificence, such divine delicacy in the eyes of a woman
And I do bid you, never have my eyes ever met yours like that
Never have my eyes ever fallen in love with the eyes of a woman
Never have my eyes smiled at the sight of the eyes of a woman
Never has my heart skipped a beat at such a sight
And I can only write on a paper, what magnificence I have witnessed
But I do bid you, that words alone may not bear what I have experienced
poem by Gabriel Gauci Maistre
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Peace In The Light
Like Moths to a flame, trying to see,
The poor in spirit, seek to break free,
To avoid the abyss,
Search with all their might,
Where will they find the Light?
Once seen, always mean,
Must find a way to dull the bright,
How can we destroy the Light?
Those that love draw them nearer,
The door to inner Light is clearer,
To live life to the full, it is dear,
No way to live in fear,
Love and Light lie within us all,
Once seen, always agleam,
Must find a way to stay bright,
How can we spread the Light?
Spirit leads to colours bright,
Dark always enhances the Light,
Contrasts show us the way,
Deep within we can keep darkness at bay!
Once seen, always agleam,
Must find a way to stay bright,
How can we spread the Light,
April 2012
poem by David Andre' Klopper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Complete Happiness
Greet the bright dawn with joy,
Raise your spirit to the light,
Then your smile you must employ,
Swiftly expelling the gloomy night.
A new day comes into view,
To be shaped and to redesign,
And each move will be, by you
So perfect, so right and fine.
The birds will start their song,
And delight in this newborn day,
And with your courage so strong,
Exhilaration will come your way.
Greet the bright dawn with joy,
Don't give in to tears and stress,
Find nothing that might annoy,
Come to know complete happiness.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Simple Woman
Simple woman who does not put make-up
Doesn't follow in fashion, the way she dress up
Long skirt and blouses, covered from bottom to top
Never been seen her fine good skin
But she is a woman with good lookin.
Simple woman who captured my heart
Though I can only see her from afar
My eyes sticked and don't blink apart
With black long hair and smile she makes
That feels me like going for a race.
Simple woman I'm dreaming every night
Wants to hold her and hug her tight
Sometimes imagine her in a dim light
Dancing with me till midnight
With love song and romantic candle light.
Simple woman is what I need in my life
'Coz I'm sure she would be a faithful wife
Has pure heart and sincere love that reside
Oh! woman I need you by my side
Wish you love me, and be mine.
poem by Judith Kempis
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Bright Light Girl
I know a woman
Never knew no one like her
She said "The world's made up of angels
Beautiful and fair."
She would give you anything
Give it all away
Just for one half moment
Believing love would stay
You're a bright light girl
Shine into his world
How you know your love is coming true
You're a bright light girl
In a disbelieving world
Now someone believes as much as you
And now you know he really loves you too
She opened up for trouble
Saw him come on strong
But when he could not meet her eyes
She thought she'd done it wrong
Each time love abused her
She would take the shame
Each time love would lose her
She would take the blame
No
song performed by by Heart from Private Audition
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fever-Dream
IT was a fever-dream; I lay
Awake, as in the broad bright day,
But faint and worn I drew my breath
Like those who wait for coming death;
And my hand lay helpless on my pillow
Weak as a reed or bending willow;
And the night-lamp, with its shadowy veil,
And its light so sickly, faint, and pale,
Gleamed mournfully on objects round;
And the clock's stroke was the only sound;
Measuring the hours of silent time
With a heavy and unwelcome chime,
As still monotonously true
To its pulse-like beat, the minutes flew.
I was alone, but not asleep;
Too weary, and too wetk to weep.
My eyes had closed in sadness there;
And they who watched o'er my despair
Had placed that dim light in the room,
And deepened the surrounding gloom,
By curtaining out the few sad rays
Which made things present to my gaze;
And all because they vainly thought
At last the night its rest had brought,--
Alas! rest came no more to me
So heavy was my misery!
They left me, and my heart was filled
With wandering dreams, whose fancies thrilled
Painfully through my feeble brain,
Till I almost wished them back again.
Yet wherefore should I bid them stay?
They could not chase those dreams away,
But only watch me as I lay.
They left me, and the midnight stroke
From the old clock the silence broke;
And with a wild repining sigh
I wished it were my time to die!
And then, with spirit all dismayed,
For that wild wish, forgiveness prayed,
Humbling myself to God's high power
To bear His will, and wait His hour.
And while I darkly rested there,
The breath of a young child's floating hair,
Perfumed, and warm, and glistening bright,
Swept past me in the shrouding night;--
And the footsteps of children, light and quick,
(While my heart beat loud, and my breath came thick)
Went to and fro on the silent floor;--
And the lock was turned in the fastened door,
As a child may turn it, who tiptoe stands
With his fair round arms and his dimpled hands,
Putting out all their strength in vain
Admittance by his own means to gain:
Till his sweet impatient voice is heard
Like the chirp of a young imprisoned bird,
Seeking an entrance still to win
By fond petitions to those within.
A child's soft shadowy hair, bright smiles,
His merry laugh, and coaxing wiles,
These are sweet things,--most precious things,--
But in spite of my brain's wild wanderings,
I knew that they dwelt in my fancy only,
And that I was sad, and left, and lonely;
And the fear of a dreadful madness came
And withered my soul like a parching flame;
And I felt the strong delirium growing,
And the thread of my feeble senses going,
And I heard with a horror all untold
Which turned my hot blood icy-cold,
Those light steps draw more near my bed;
And by visions I was visited,
Of the gentle eyes which I might not see,
And the faces that were so far from me!
And blest, oh I blest was the morning beam
Which woke me up from my fever-dream!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Twilight
I love thee, Twilight! as thy shadows roll,
The calm of evening steals upon my soul,
Sublimely tender, solemnly serene,
Still as the hour, enchanting as the scene.
I love thee, Twilight! for thy gleams impart
Their dear, their dying influence to my heart.
When o'er the harp of thought thy passing wind
Awakens all the music of the mind,
And joy and sorrow, as the spirit burns,
And hope and memory sweep the chords by turns
While contemplation, on seraphic wings,
Mounts with the flame of sacrifice, and sings.
Twilight! I love thee; let thy glooms increase,
Till every feeling, every pulse, is peace.
Slow from the sky the light of day declines,
Clearer within, the dawn of glory shines,
Revealing, in the hour of nature's rest,
A world of wonders in the poet's breast;
Deeper, O Twilight! then thy shadows roll, -
An awful vision opens on my soul.
poem by James Montgomery
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Echo
Come to me in the silence of the night;
Come in the speaking silence of a dream;
Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright
As sunlight on a stream;
Come back in tears,
O memory, hope, love of finished years.
O dream, how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet,
Whose wakening should have been in Paradise,
Where souls brimfull of love abide and meet;
Where thirsting longing eyes
Watch the slow door
That opening, letting in, lets out no more.
Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
My very life again though cold in death:
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:
Speak low, lean low
As long ago, my love, how long ago.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti (1893)
Submitted by anonym
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