And Despite My Hybrid Emotions
the nightly silence is what
lures me into dreams
bare and bidding the thoughts
keen and careful
that would instruct me to say
my longing for you is not without
the merit of our delectable
and devouring past
your being ~ my muse, still
as I wander within each whisper
that you send to me
while your hands caresses
my weary shoulders as I
slave over this pen and page
and nightly hours, writing love:
letters and ballads in your
favor
lost in metaphor:
your: wonders in vision
snug in a sensual embrace
I wish I could sleep there
safe and sound
by time and exile
poem by Jason PraTT
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Enigma of the closed books [Enigma cărţilor închise]
Immaculate fair pages written by hands on which the humble time has placed
Its everlasting emblems with much haste!
O, thoughts withered in closed books
O, cold deeps opened in paradises with good looks
O, written dreams flowing like brooks!
There are mournful books whose mystic thrills
As light as quills
Garland any dumb disaster
With horizons blue or pale like alabaster,
Inoculating deeply the nightly statues with gestures mirrored
By the lakes full of mystery
And tranquility.
There are books in mourning
Full of tanned longing,
There are books whose chants full of gloom
Wake up and stir the pangs in the royal tomb...
When the doleful rhythm of the ballads without sound
Resurrects, vibrates, contemplates and falls to the ground
Or in the waterfalls around
The pale dreams will retire in nooks.
O, the eerie enigma of the closed books!...
poem by George Topîrceanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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A Chill
What can lambkins do
All the keen night through?
Nestle by their woolly mother
The careful ewe.
What can nestlings do
In the nightly dew?
Sleep beneath their mother's wing
Till day breaks anew.
If in a field or tree
There might only be
Such a warm soft sleeping-place
Found for me!
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Give me space, give me time
It is the hands of time that
Heals.let its hands caress
My weary thoughts. So much
Have been lost in my fingers
Slipping away. I walk down
The road now, to freedom.
Hand in hand with the tree
And twigs. Feeling the
Caresses of the leaves
On the road to my freedom.
Give me space. Let my wholeness
Occupy. I need to expand
My choking life. Give me time.
Give me the healing hands
Of time. Let me sleep on its
Palms. I am throwing my
Hands in the air. I want to fly
Now. Sensational. I must.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Broken Sleep
Broken sleep comes to me
sometimes when I think of thee.
The shadows of the night falls
eerily on my bedroom walls
as I hear your nightly sounds.
I listen an am content to hear
these sounds I've heard for so many a night.
My broken sleep is quite alright.
You do not know I lay awake
alert to all the sounds you make.
My one pointless wish is that I could be
where your dreams have gone.
And who knows? Maybe I'm there
for you may have taken me along.
But will you remember where?
I'll ask you in the morning dear
and see if you can let it appear?
And if you can't I will not weep
as long as I have my broken sleep
to hear your nightly sounds.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Send me some words
Send me some words that my gasping hope may breathe
That my agitated thoughts may release my mind to sleep, to rest in peace
Send me a message that my panting passion may survive
That my mind pantomimes on sweet honey memories stolen from our past hive
Send me some tokens of our love
I expect no rib bond written on paper white dove
Nor letters in scripted in your own hands
To knit back our love in strong strains
Of new touched youth of a ring and vigor to sew the stands
Of our affection, souls connection that as that round ring is plain
So should our love regain its youth its origin and simplicity
No, send me not the coral that your fine wrist enfolds
Laced up together in harmonious congruity
To show that our thoughts should rest in the same hold
No, not your picture though most divine and gracious
And most desired, popular and the best
No, not witty lines, which are most copious,
Within the writing which you addressed
Send me none of all
It will increase none in my store
But swear you know
I love you deeply so
Stall, hash and say no more
copy rights 2010
The Love Of Christ Which Passeth Kowledge
I bore with thee long weary days and nights,
Through many pangs of heart, through many tears;
I bore with thee, thy hardness, coldness, slights,
For three and thirty years.
Who else had dared for thee what I have dared?
I plunged the depth most deep from bliss above;
I not My flesh, I not My spirit spared:
Give thou Me love for love.
For thee I thirsted in the daily drouth,
For thee I trembled in the nightly frost:
Much sweeter thou than honey to My mouth:
Why wilt thou still be lost?
I bore thee on My shoulders and rejoiced:
Men only marked upon My shoulders borne
The branding cross; and shouted hungry-voiced,
Or wagged their heads in scorn.
Thee did nails grave upon My hands, thy name
Did thorns for frontlets stamp between Mine eyes:
I, Holy One, put on thy guilt and shame;
I, God, Priest, Sacrifice.
A thief upon My right hand and My left;
Six hours alone, athirst, in misery:
At length in death one smote My heart and cleft
A hiding-place for thee.
Nailed to the racking cross, than bed of down
More dear, whereon to stretch Myself and sleep:
So did I win a kingdom,—share my crown;
A harvest,—come and reap.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Slave
(carly simon/jacob brackman)
Listening for your footsteps
Just waiting like a fool
Burning with a fever
Only you can cool
The clock beside my pillow
Has ticked away the night
Like a heartbeat mocking me
Until the light
Gotta stop these thoughts about you
Gotta learn to live without you
Gotta find some freedom for this weary slave
cause Im hungry for you
And Im longing for you
And Im burning for you
I worship your opinions
I imitate your ways
I try to make you grace me
With a word of praise
However much I tell myself
That Im strong and free and brave
Im just another woman
Raised to be a slave
Slave, nothing but a slave
Mind of a slave
Body of a slave
I find I gave away the soul
That I wanted you to save
Im just another woman
Raised to be a slave
Hungry for you
And longing for you
Burning for you
And Im longing for you
Burning for you
And Im yearning for you
Longing for you
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Letters From Earth
Well its a cold world
And Im in the middle
Caught in the in-between
I dont belong here
So Im writing to you
Its wrong here
Where Im sending you some
Chorus:
Letters from earth, yeah
Well its a new world
And now Im a stranger
Stranger than you know
I dont belong here
And Im writing to you
With blood on my hands
What if I send you madness
What if I send you pain
And letters from earth, ooh
All right
Come on its another game
But you gotta play on
Cause they say its just pretend
Ask them why they say youll never, never die
Come on - the game is called the end
Well its a cold world
And Im in the middle
Caught in the in-between
I dont belong here
So Im writing to you
Hey let me explain
What if I send you confusion
What is the time and the pain worth
Oh no no
Im only sending -
Letters from the earth
Letters from earth, ...
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Promise Of You
Chorus:the promise of you it sleeps in the air the air that I breathe and i
Know that its true dont have to convince myself to believe
What secrets sleep in the heart of a man
And so much love wasted it slip right through my hands you see it in the eyes
Of the lonely as they make their weary way shimmer in the eyes of the longing
And I hear it say
Chorus
To believe
What secrets sleep in the heart of the night and my dreams of salvation are
Slipping out of sight in the shimmering moments of the twilight the closing
Of the tide whisper on the wind of a rescue savior in time
Chorus
And all this time Ive been fighting my own private war and all this time
Youre the peace I searched for
Chorus
Yeah
Chorus
song performed by by Edwin McCain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Concentric [Acrostic Dectina Refrain]
Clues
Orbit
Nightly in
Concentric dreams.
Ellipses carry
Notes and nuance beyond
The limits of inner space.
Revolving glimmers coalesce
In overlapping lucent circles.
Clues orbit nightly in concentric dreams.
poem by Diane Hine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fingers
In that photo of yours
I saw you –
Your face, your shoulders,
Your hands, and then
Your fingers…
My lips quivered
So did my hands
And I felt like touching you,
With my quivering lips
And unsure hands,
Those very beautiful
Exquisite fingers…
Reading your poems of love
And pondering over your letters…
Sometimes I imagine
You writing to me
With those very same
Slender and artistic
Adept fingers…
Very often I feel
And wonder…
If your fingers
Ever do ache
Writing so long,
So nice,
And so very endless,
Day after day…
And if they do, my Love
I feel like pampering them
With tender, loving care
A kiss here, a kiss there…
Holding them,
Caressing them,
Sucking them slow…
Your fingers in my mouth
Taking turns to go
One by one,
I feel them,
Nibble them,
Suckle them,
Make love to them,
Within the deep recesses
Of my oral crevice…
Till they feel pampered
And satiated
And I feel the same too…
Contented and happy
Making love to you
With your fingers
In my mouth…
A wonderful tryst
Of love and lust,
Warmth and arousal,
And then if you wish…
And if I'm also willing,
We can play this game
All night long…
Where you don’t win
And I don’t lose
We both win over together
And lose ourselves
To each other…
I give free rein to
Your fingers…
To touch, feel
And explore
The inner crevices
And every pore
Of my body…
The mouth has had its turn
Now, do you wish to go
Further down..?
And see how it feels
To caress my breasts,
My derriere and my
Yoni,
With those seeking,
Exploring fingers of yours…
You’ve penned a lot of poetry
And your letters intoxicate me…
How about writing
Some letters of love
And a few lines of love ballads
On the spaces and margins
Of my body…
Dipping your fingers,
And drinking into
The juice of my
Dripping Yoni…
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Sweet, Sweet Moon of Earthly Heaven
Oh, moon, moon in the nightly sky
how beautiful you are in the nightly sky
your charming glow of light lighting up the heavens
romantizing the stars twinkling in the nightly sky of twilight
your sweet appealing face which is the chocolate chip
in every warm chocolate chip cookie
that makes people cry and laugh and hug and smile
at every glimpse of heaven in your sweet angelic face
enriching every love poem and song
which makes me glad to be alive and enjoy life
for every warm feeling that comes
when adoring the nightly moon of sweet heaven.
I love you moon
poem by Brett Strotman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A sensual scribble
I was the scribe who woke up at dawn
Finding a clean sheet of paper
And this glossy sort of ballpoint pen
Having the urge to write
Something sensual
My fingers spread the paper
On this table
Where there is so much disorder
Some paper clips and
Floppy discs scattered
Scotch tapes and mail openers
And some still unopened mails
That I did not mind
Not my priority
I was into something sensual
On this clean sheet of paper
On an urge to write
Grabbed this glossy sort of ballpoint pen
And start scribbling
Some lovely head notes
“My dear darling”
Careful strokes in curves
Sliding on paper
My fingers are wildly
Caressing to the shapes of
Sensual letters and words
And breathtaking sentences
“You know that you make me
Hot and you make me wild
And I always remember you”
And I am at the middle
Of so much longing
Using such letters
U and I
And w and e
Lots of ohs and ahs
And s and e and x
L and o and v and e
To make sense
Without pretense
Some exclamations
And pauses of commas and
Semicolons spread on some
Corners of this paper
With so much
Unstoppable anticipation
Somewhere in the center
I pierced this paper
With this glossy ballpoint pen
Writing something
Emphatic
Clinching
And I was at the height
Of my desiring and
So much liking
Something ecstatic
And calming
At the end
It was a beautiful piece
Of a scribble
Written at dawn
And I wrote at the end part there
“With all my love I remain
Your faithful slave”
And a postscript at the tip
Of my tongue
Written with a nip
“When will I see you again? ”
The letter shall be mailed at once
She will understand that pierce
Somewhere at the center something
That was ecstatic and she will remember
Every letter every word was an ember embedded.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The House That Does Not Speak About Anything...
how time swiftly flies without wings of birds
i wake up at dawn lacking sleep
into writing, into deeper thoughts on soundless hours
and how fast, how fast has morning arrived
i am innocent
how stupid can i be
inventing hope and trying to modify the shape of my days
the lights of the door and the kitchen are not turned off
the neighbors are worried
i am home but i am not opening the windows and the door
i am into writing, into the deeper thoughts of my soundless hours
let the neighbors think that i am on vacation again
for weeks
i am into a waking slumber gathering dreams, ripe fruits of sleep
of the waking and sleeping again and again
i love a house that doesn't speak about anything that cannot
remember anybody
the dark loves me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sound Of Silence
Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
'Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dare
Disturb the sound of silence.
"Fools" said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you."
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming.
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets
are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls."
And whisper'd in the sounds of silence.
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Stood In The Silence
reading through the lore
many an eye closed in sleep
each grain each stone an earthly ore
a vision swept in a nightly weep
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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In Despair
He has lost him completely. And now he is seeking
on the lips of every new lover
the lips of his beloved; in the embrace
of every new lover he seeks to be deluded
that he is the same lad, that it it to him he is yielding.
He has lost him copmletely, as if he had never been at all.
For he wanted -- so he said -- he wanted to be saved
from the stigmatized, the sick sensual delight;
from the stigmatized, sensual delight of shame.
There was still time -- as he said -- to be saved.
He has lost him completely, as if he had never been at all.
In his imagination, in his delusions,
on the lips of others it is his lips he is seeking;
he is longing to feel again the love he has known.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Is All About You
1 hour unity,
2 hours peace,
3 hours playing,
4 hours sleeping,
5 hours smiling,
6 hours living,
7 hours trusting in your muse!
For this river is mine and yours foeevers;
And, i want to be close to you always.
1 hour smiling,
2 hours learning,
3 hours thinking,
4 hours with your muse,
5 hours teaching,
6 hours working,
But, the 7th hour comes for me to sleep with you;
Because, this love is all about you! !
And, i want to be with you always.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Dreams
A DREAM of lilies: all the blooming earth,
A garden full of fairies and of flowers;
Its only music the glad cry of mirth,
While the warm sun weaves golden-tissued hours;
Hope a bright angel, beautiful and true
As Truth herself, and life a lovely toy,
Which ne'er will weary us, ne'er break, a new
Eternal source of pleasure and of joy.
A dream of roses: vision of Loves tree,
Of beauty and of madness, and as bright
As naught on earth save only dreams can be,
Made fair and odorous with flower and light;
A dream that Love is strong to outlast Time,
That hearts are stronger than forgetfulness,
The slippery sand than changeful waves that climb,
The wind-blown foam than mighty waters' stress.
A dream of laurels: after much is gone,
Much buried, much lamented, much forgot,
With what remains to do and what is done,
With what yet is, and what, alas! is not,
Man dreams a dream of laurel and of bays,
A dream of crowns and guerdons and rewards,
Wherein sounds sweet the hollow voice of praise,
And bright appears the wreath that it awards.
A dream of poppies, sad and true as Truth,—
That all these dreams were dreams of vanity;
And full of bitter penitence and ruth,
In his last dream, man deems 'twere good to die;
And weeping o'er the visions vain of yore,
In the sad vigils he doth nightly keep,
He dreams it may be good to dream no more,
And life has nothing like Death's dreamless sleep.
poem by Emma Lazarus
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The Poet's Dream
The poet rested weary eyes
That read the heights and depths of sighs,
Compressed to redressed poetry,
Composed with utmost dignity...
The poet rested weary thoughts
More precious than a billion quartz,
More gracious than the stars above -
In contemplation of his love!
To him, she was the brightest star!
No matter where, both near and far!
To him, all dreams would lead to her!
His heart let nothing else occur!
Yet in this dream of dreams he knelt
Declaring all that Fate had dealt,
Confessing all in hopes to catch
The girl for whom he found no match!
She was 'THE ONE' who stole his heart
Who tore his simple world apart,
Who showed him nobler dreams to dream,
Who offered visions all supreme.
Now marriage seemed the only way -
With 'I LOVE YOU! ' the words to say!
Yet in his dream came no reply
And with her silence he could die!
No kiss occurred, no sweet embrace,
She gave no smile bestowing grace!
Though true romantic he must lose
For none can wed The Mystic Muse!
That's why male poets pine forlorn
In dreams of her... until the dawn...
poem by Denis Martindale
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