To Two Magical Eyes...
Beloved,
Should these words chance to pass your glimpse or whisper through your distant ears, then know, standing this lonesome seam I ink the drops of tacit tears, while drawing shadows of your dreams on tomorrows of all yesteryears...
In times when Summer merged with Spring and Fall stood still to reach its height, I wondered what might future bring through stormy days and rainy nights and drew the colours of your Autumn wings when Winter paled my fragile sight...
When one desert greeted endless sunrise, my kingdom shined with ruinous rays; there vultures noshed my veins to dry, by countless corpses found my place; swaddled in dust ‘neath cloudless skies, long miles of cactus pierced my face, still drew the sea of your mirage-eyes to drench the sigh of wilderness...
Once twilight shot stars on haunted shire and shadows took abysmal turn; by the branches where every leaf breathed fire, the thirsty valleys had their throats to burn; birds broke their nests by floral pyre by nodding trees had my prayers begun; to the call of heaven raised mine eyes higher and drew your rays in the last of sun...
That eve when I went to a florist’s tent, she showed some flowers not seen before; with waxed out petals, their thorns were waned yet unmatched to the shade you bore; though myths would say roses were meant to ever last for evermore; beside those bouquets of withered scent, I drew your name in a tulip’s core...
My brain’s not of the wisest men, nor wealthy cottons suit my skin; faceless, alone, worthless, insane - I wander planets of your sheen; through plains of Arab, China, Spain - searching for you each place I’ve been and may forgo all treasures when your galaxy’s for me to win...
And now, when I chanted loud your name, one ballad smiled on dancing lips; to the steps of sonnets this far I came, one trunk of verses filled my grip -
Beloved,
I may not offer the best of poems
yet they are all for you to keep...
Related quotes
Reasons To Insanity...
...For a twilight vale unfolds
From dawning of your skies
Passing through miles of cold
To where autumn can rise
Though summer dusts have rolled
When spring was breathing sighs
If you I can’t behold
Then blinded be my eyes...
...For a dimming sun’s fainting
From bright of moon afar
Reeling with dreams, acquainting,
To where sleep lives unbarred
Though shadows won’t be tainting
When midnights fray through blur
If your worlds I’m not painting
Then darkened be my stars...
...For a bleeding pigeon’s fleeing
From shores of loneliness
Searching a land of freeing
To where the heavens bless
Though evils win my being
When angels lose their place
If your face I’m not seeing
Then death be my embrace...
...For a dust fills my soil
From beds of destined slots
Lying with thieves and royals
To where my corpse shall rot
Though with the Gods embroiled
When with you I am not
If this life I have spoiled
Then maddened be that thought...
...For a red rose is blooming
From garden of your dew
Wreathed to jasmines, perfuming
To where a tulip grew
Though black orchids are zooming
With thorns upon their view
If to you I’m not grooming
May bouquets not renew...
...For a ballad is glancing
From walls upon my stare
Tumbling with pure romancing
To where a duet’s shared
Though feet may stop advancing
When I’m breathing your hair
If tuned to you I’m dancing
Then blessed be my prayer...
...For all I have is a poem
From mem'ry of your time
When I'm not chanting your name
Then silent be my rhymes...
Beloved
They say that they don't know me
Never saw my face
And if they've never been there
Can they be sure there's such a place
They think if they don't answer
The world will pass them by
But there's a fire in their kitchen
And the water's three feet high and risin'
My beloved
The only one I see standing up for me
Someone's shouting at me
You're all going to hell
Must not be too far away
Sometimes I can never tell
My shoes are still as empty
A mile they never walked
Send in their donation
And they never have to talk again
My beloved
The only one I see standing up for me
My beloved
Close my eyes heal my pride
I just want to show them who I am
I just want to show them what I can do
There's not much use to curse the damned
And there's power in nothing to lose
Someone's spitin' blood
Face down in the dirt
Someone's thinking about a gun
To try and stop the hurt
Someone drew conclusions
On the wall of destiny
Someone's getting louder
And that someone would be me
You think if you don't answer
The world will pass you by
But there's a fire in your kitchen
And the water's three feet high and risin'
song performed by by Melissa Etheridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Artists
you are the best artists
You hang my skin on the wall and drew me with ulna dip into my blood
You are great
You drew my face on your heart and paint it with love
You sew my name on your lip and pin it to the cloud
You background me with you in the distant future
Holding our seeds with smile of euphoria
You are my artist
You drew my mistakes on my chest and erase
It with your hand wrapping me softly
You blend our soul and mind and mount it as a kite flying the banner of bliss
You are beautiful
I've paint your heart with musk, your lip with honey and you skin with amber
We are both an artist
We carved ourselve with due
You clipped my eyes to the moon
I clipped the stars to you hair with galaxies of flower decorating our world
You my artist
You drew me with the world gazing at your statue hanging on the sky with flying nymphs sing songs of our artistic shadow
poem by Kemurl Fofanah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Far Too Little I Know
I
Far too little I know about the things that lie between us,
I see the sea drawing back and rushing in,
I know too little to tell you about my love,
see your tracks disappearing over a sand dune.
I know too little to talk about a secret,
how one day can be so very special,
filled with life changing meaning,
about the things that I read in your eyes
but that that you really love me,
I know before the sea wipes our tracks away
when I kiss you and get you giggling,
while we give new steps into life
when you became the meaning in my small universe;
if you were the light falling through the window on me.
II
If you were the light falling through the window on me,
a star shining at night against the sky,
I would have been able to admire you, in days without end
but now thunder flashes down
whiter than daylight into my life
becoming part of my life,
to again jump to somewhere else
as if single moments are everything
and far too short was the time that you could stay,
with almost endless cheerfulness that you could bring
in this tough world as part of me,
where my heart could sing songs of joy
and far too little time I had invested in you,
how should I have known that I would make an oath with you?
III
How should I have know that I would make a oath with you
before I met you,
have a concept of such intimate feelings,
as with which you are part of my whole world?
How must I have know the meaning
of faith, love and hope
and about professing of true love
before our lives started together
on ways that I could not expect
and could learn to love
past events, years and times reaching to maybe,
that you are part of everything in me?
I want to love you as in days long past,
in the winter of my life.
IV
In the winter of my life
when all the trees around me stand skeleton,
with stripped branches shivering in the wind,
with sometimes a thunder bashing down
I sometimes remember the look in your sea-green eyes
where colours so secretly come together,
even when my body bend like branches, bended by age
as if in my thoughts they are looking forever at me,
it’s as if a new spring just have got to come,
as if your arms surround my neck,
with you flowering anew
as a angel of light
it’s sometimes as is you are with me,
when the morning starts with its first rays.
V
When the morning starts with its first rays,
with the sky changing from twilight grey to blue,
hang with the moon still hanging white
I am caught like a lizard
that prays to the sun,
where it’s rising white hot,
where I sit before your photograph
that shows every bit of your beauty,
but the nights and months past
while every day you look back
from that photograph
and I wonder if you still do love me?
and I think certainly, you are just as pretty,
when the sun throws its last rays over the trees.
VI
When the sun throws its last rays over the trees,
drawing shadows out long
before it reaches out
with long orange red rays
and the streetlights suddenly are awakening
give eyes to poles, becoming orange yellow
then I know
that you are somewhere else and just as pretty,
that you are laughing somewhere else,
caring after your children, doing your duties,
stretching yourself out for the night,
after kissing your children goodnight
and I am really longing while I am waiting,
I miss the way that you laugh in pleasure.
VII
I miss the way that you laugh in pleasure,
how you cry for a beautiful movie,
even expecting something good out of poor things,
how on a dark rainy night you shelter against me,
the way that you look at me,
the feelings that you bring to me,
as if you’re green eyes shines like the sea,
with every word going into my depths
but time takes an own road
and destiny is without mercy,
where at a time we both had to go different directions
and still try to jump over horizons with words
and maybe I have to court you again anew,
far too little I know about the things that lie between us.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Little Daughter
She drew
Mother and father
Brother and sister
And a rainbow
She drew
A tree and a root
A stone and a brook
And a rainbow
She drew
A house and a roof
A chimney and a sweeper
And a rainbow
She drew
A path and a step
A sound of a key
And a rainbow
She drew
A table and chairs
A meal and desert
And a rainbow
She drew
A bed and a lullaby
A good night kiss
And a rainbow
She drew
The night and a star
A Moon upon a star
And a rainbow
She drew
Mother and father
Sister and brother
And a rainbow
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Life of Love XVI
Spring
Come, my beloved; let us walk amidst the knolls,
For the snow is water, and Life is alive from its
Slumber and is roaming the hills and valleys.
Let us follow the footprints of Spring into the
Distant fields, and mount the hilltops to draw
Inspiration high above the cool green plains.
Dawn of Spring has unfolded her winter-kept garment
And placed it on the peach and citrus trees; and
They appear as brides in the ceremonial custom of
the Night of Kedre.
The sprigs of grapevine embrace each other like
Sweethearts, and the brooks burst out in dance
Between the rocks, repeating the song of joy;
And the flowers bud suddenly from the heart of
Nature, like foam from the rich heart of the sea.
Come, my beloved; let us drink the last of Winter's
Tears from the cupped lilies, and soothe our spirits
With the shower of notes from the birds, and wander
In exhilaration through the intoxicating breeze.
Let us sit by that rock, where violets hide; let us
Pursue their exchange of the sweetness of kisses.
Summer
Let us go into the fields, my beloved, for the
Time of harvest approaches, and the sun's eyes
Are ripening the grain.
Let us tend the fruit of the earth, as the
Spirit nourishes the grains of Joy from the
Seeds of Love, sowed deep in our hearts.
Let us fill our bins with the products of
Nature, as life fills so abundantly the
Domain of our hearts with her endless bounty.
Let us make the flowers our bed, and the
Sky our blanket, and rest our heads together
Upon pillows of soft hay.
Let us relax after the day's toil, and listen
To the provoking murmur of the brook.
Autumn
Let us go and gather grapes in the vineyard
For the winepress, and keep the wine in old
Vases, as the spirit keeps Knowledge of the
Ages in eternal vessels.
Let us return to our dwelling, for the wind has
Caused the yellow leaves to fall and shroud the
Withering flowers that whisper elegy to Summer.
Come home, my eternal sweetheart, for the birds
Have made pilgrimage to warmth and lest the chilled
Prairies suffering pangs of solitude. The jasmine
And myrtle have no more tears.
Let us retreat, for the tired brook has
Ceased its song; and the bubblesome springs
Are drained of their copious weeping; and
Their cautious old hills have stored away
Their colorful garments.
Come, my beloved; Nature is justly weary
And is bidding her enthusiasm farewell
With quiet and contented melody.
Winter
Come close to me, oh companion of my full life;
Come close to me and let not Winter's touch
Enter between us. Sit by me before the hearth,
For fire is the only fruit of Winter.
Speak to me of the glory of your heart, for
That is greater than the shrieking elements
Beyond our door.
Bind the door and seal the transoms, for the
Angry countenance of the heaven depresses my
Spirit, and the face of our snow-laden fields
Makes my soul cry.
Feed the lamp with oil and let it not dim, and
Place it by you, so I can read with tears what
Your life with me has written upon your face.
Bring Autumn's wine. Let us drink and sing the
Song of remembrance to Spring's carefree sowing,
And Summer's watchful tending, and Autumn's
Reward in harvest.
Come close to me, oh beloved of my soul; the
Fire is cooling and fleeing under the ashes.
Embrace me, for I fear loneliness; the lamp is
Dim, and the wine which we pressed is closing
Our eyes. Let us look upon each other before
They are shut.
Find me with your arms and embrace me; let
Slumber then embrace our souls as one.
Kiss me, my beloved, for Winter has stolen
All but our moving lips.
You are close by me, My Forever.
How deep and wide will be the ocean of Slumber,
And how recent was the dawn!
poem by Khalil Gibran
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At Love's Beginning.
I might not have it then — I might not, yet
She was so near to me, could I forget
She might be nearer? There was in her eyes —
What shall I say? — a hint of the sunrise
Of her heart's day: would it then break on me
In my life's glory, or should I but see
The malediction of that morning pour
Disaster on my heart for evermore?
I did not know, and all I was became
A hush, a wonder. I scarce breathed her name,
Scarce dared to read her eyes too deeply, lest
Wrath in their tenderness should be exprest;
When suddenly love's lightning ran a streak
Up the white throat into the pallid cheek;
Her eyes took wonder too — and even thus
What we to either were, revealed to us,
Rose like God's heaven, at once, in such a way
For aye; and her eyes fell as mine took sway
Upon the moment when she knew it all,
And knew in knowing it beyond recall
Was the confession which her heart had made
With eyes, not lips, ere lips to mine were laid —
That mystic moment, when all she was drew
Out of herself, as all that I was too,
Emptied of self, then found itself in her.
poem by Robert Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only
Only if you want to, she said,
only if it means to you what
it means to me. The other
members of the choir were
ahead on their way to the next
house for carol singing, the full
moon luminous above, the voices
of others like faraway whispers
of ghosts. She looked at you; her
blue eyes searching every aspect
of you for an answer. Yes, it does,
you replied, your words hanging
around your head like tamed birds.
She smiled and closed her blue eyes
and moved toward you and kissed.
Lips to lips, flesh to flesh, no tongues
(at least not then that intrusion of
the mouths) just skin touching skin,
seemingly an outward sign of how
you felt within. She drew you into
her arms; you sensed her breast
beneath her coat, felt her body
touching yours. The kiss ended,
the lovers drew apart, the others
had paused outside another house
to begin their carol singing once again.
She held your hand in hers; electricity
sparkled; down came the soft rain.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Art
From my wrinkling hands
the effulgence surges
into the blue veins
and to the tips of my fingers
it sublimates esoterically
Sometimes, it drew lines
and the latticework
becomes the ensnare
of the mad tarantula
that is my hands
Sometimes, like a butterfly
blooming from its chrysalis
it spread its wings for the wind
and its colours glide in search
for its own cradle of petals
Sometimes, its brown molt
folds like an origami and
becomes a moth inveigled
by sputtering tongues of flames
soon shall it burn and fade
Sometimes, it deflects
the words that cannot be said
or the poems that remain unread
into dithering silhouettes
that will remain unsculpted
And these shadows
born by fluid motions
and metamorphosing palettes
are the sprouts - veins crawling
from the unfathomable pit
of suppressed inkblots.
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Graves Of Infants
Infant' graves are steps of angels, where
Earth's brightest gems of innocence repose.
God is their parent, and they need no tear;
He takes them to His bosom from earth's woes,
A bud their lifetime and a flower their close.
Their spirits are an Iris of the skies,
Needing no prayers; a sunset's happy close.
Gone are the bright rays of their soft blue eyes;
Flowers weep in dew-drops oer them, and the gale gently sighs
Their lives were nothing but a sunny shower,
Melting on flowers as tears melt from the eye.
Their deaths were dew-drops on Heaven's amaranth bower,
And tolled on flowers as Summer gales went by.
They bowed and trembled, and they left no sigh,
And the sun smiled to show their end was well.
Infants have nought to weep for ere they die;
All prayers are needless, beads they need not tell,
White flowers their mourners are, Nature their passing bell.
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Of Love
I feel as if your eyes have housed in mine,
My eyes which were desert, where
The desire to grow did not find the route,
Now there dance thick shadows of flagons.
My eyes which were thirsty,
Like some cracked clay,
In the smouldering sunlight,
Now scattered are there
The colours of clouds and rainbow.
My eyes had a forest, where shadows
Of suspicion were long and thick,
Where the beams reverted
Before they descended, now there blossom
Sweet scented flowers of all colours.
My eyes contained lakes,
Where no track was visible in moss and marsh,
There fall several lotuses from your neckline,
They sway and show numerous paths.
My eyes bore the Sun,
Each spectacle of green tassels,
Clothed itself the costume of autumn.
There now exist extensive shades
Of spreading branches,
And I sleep a luxurious slumber.
My eyes had a river,
A river that gurgled eroding the banks,
There now glimmer a star of sail.
We have to enkindle a candle across the bank,
Upon my lashes shines a smiling lamp,
Your name emerges upon my lips impulsively,
As if your eyes have made an bode
In the self of my inner existence.
Written By Qayyum Tahir
Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beloved - Hide Your Eyes
A steep but lovely trail -
I notice a divide and realize
before me lies a known and beloved path - beloved of you.
And you, beloved of me,
the longing comes to choose your chosen trail.
I want to see the flowers you saw that day
when you held my hand and my heart all at once.
In seeing the rocks and branches you cherished
I might catch a ghost like glimpse of a once loved you.
The once loved you - a once beloved me.
Beloved no more.
And maybe the present me might stumble upon the present you.
The steps hasten now to the path, the rocks, the branches.
The steps stop.
What if I find your eyes and they find mine?
What looks out from a beloved's eyes when love has departed?
I choose the other path.
poem by Meli Secret
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Air Of Diabelli's
CALL it to mind, O my love.
Dear were your eyes as the day,
Bright as the day and the sky;
Like the stream of gold and the sky above,
Dear were your eyes in the grey.
We have lived, my love, O, we have lived, my love!
Now along the silent river, azure
Through the sky's inverted image,
Softly swam the boat that bore our love,
Swiftly ran the shallow of our love
Through the heaven's inverted image,
In the reedy mazes round the river.
See along the silent river,
See of old the lover's shallop steer.
Berried brake and reedy island,
Heaven below and only heaven above.
Through the sky's inverted image
Swiftly swam the boat that bore our love.
Berried brake and reedy island,
Mirrored flower and shallop gliding by.
All the earth and all the sky were ours,
Silent sat the wafted lovers,
Bound with grain and watched by all the sky,
Hand to hand and eye to . . . eye.
Days of April, airs of Eden,
Call to mind how bright the vanished angel hours,
Golden hours of evening,
When our boat drew homeward filled with flowers.
O darling, call them to mind; love the past, my love.
Days of April, airs of Eden.
How the glory died through golden hours,
And the shining moon arising;
How the boat drew homeward filled with flowers.
Age and winter close us slowly in.
Level river, cloudless heaven,
Islanded reed mazes, silver weirs;
How the silent boat with silver
Threads the inverted forest as she goes,
Broke the trembling green of mirrored trees.
O, remember, and remember
How the berries hung in garlands.
Still in the river see the shallop floats.
Hark! Chimes the falling oar.
Still in the mind
Hark to the song of the past!
Dream, and they pass in their dreams.
Those that loved of yore, O those that loved of yore!
Hark through the stillness, O darling, hark!
Through it all the ear of the mind
Knows the boat of love. Hark!
Chimes the falling oar.
O half in vain they grew old.
Now the halcyon days are over,
Age and winter close us slowly round,
And these sounds at fall of even
Dim the sight and muffle all the sound.
And at the married fireside, sleep of soul and sleep of fancy,
Joan and Darby.
Silence of the world without a sound;
And beside the winter faggot
Joan and Darby sit and dose and dream and wake -
Dream they hear the flowing, singing river,
See the berries in the island brake;
Dream they hear the weir,
See the gliding shallop mar the stream.
Hark! in your dreams do you hear?
Snow has filled the drifted forest;
Ice has bound the . . . stream.
Frost has bound our flowing river;
Snow has whitened all our island brake.
Berried brake and reedy island,
Heaven below and only heaven above azure
Through the sky's inverted image
Safely swam the boat that bore our love.
Dear were your eyes as the day,
Bright ran the stream, bright hung the sky above.
Days of April, airs of Eden.
How the glory died through golden hours,
And the shining moon arising,
How the boat drew homeward filled with flowers.
Bright were your eyes in the night:
We have lived, my love;
O, we have loved, my love.
Now the . . . days are over,
Age and winter close us slowly round.
Vainly time departs, and vainly
Age and winter come and close us round.
Hark the river's long continuous sound.
Hear the river ripples in the reeds.
Lo, in dreams they see their shallop
Run the lilies down and drown the weeds
Mid the sound of crackling faggots.
So in dreams the new created
Happy past returns, to-day recedes,
And they hear once more,
From the old years,
Yesterday returns, to-day recedes,
And they hear with aged hearing warbles
Love's own river ripple in the weeds.
And again the lover's shallop;
Lo, the shallop sheds the streaming weeds;
And afar in foreign countries
In the ears of aged lovers.
And again in winter evens
Starred with lilies . . . with stirring weeds.
In these ears of aged lovers
Love's own river ripples in the reeds.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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* * *
I walk alone and cry out under the stars.
As one in a desert I hunger for refreshment.
I have need of the coolness of some azure pool.
O, I would anoint my bosom with the clear water!
O, I would immerse myself in the emulous depths!
O, I would drink of ineffable dreams.
You, Beloved, are the silvery lake shimmering in the desert of my youth.
You only can allay the fever of my spirit!
On your lips I should drain the fountain of life.
On your white breast I shall breath the perfume of numberless lilies.
Therein I shall die a thousand deaths and arise reborn in the awful splendor of your love….
* * * * *
Lay your hands,—softer than dove’s wings,—in my hands so I may feel your young life flowing into mine thro’ your finger-tips.
Lay your eyes upon my eyes that I may grow tremulous beneath the flutter of your eyelids.
Lay your heart against my heart that I may hear your love summoning me to forgetfulness.
Lay your tresses about me that I may feel their warm sun streaming thro’ my veins.
Lay your mouth on my mouth until all dissolves in mist about me….
(Is it life? Is it death?)
* * * * *
You are as a million birds that sing unto my heart, O, Beloved.
Thro’ the long nights I hear the chanting of blithe voices.
What divine minstrelsy! what ravishment….
Is this multitudinous melody the rapture of your kiss?
Come to me, press upon my brow the coolness of your young lips that I may hear the thunder of your love in the night….
* * * * *
When will it end, the long vigil….
What dawn will bring you forever unto me, O, my Beloved?
Life is but shadow.
Only you, my Beloved, are more real than shadow.
Beneath your caresses I am as one awakened unto life.
Your finger-tips bear presage of divinity. Your heart-beats are a threnody sublime.
O, Beloved, you are as a white nenuphar lifting its snowy breast on a stream. In your bosom are all the treasures of Elysium. The scent of your skin is like jasmine and honeysuckle.
Why is such loveliness withheld from me, O, Beloved?
When can I look upon you and say: “Beloved! all this beauty is mine forever.”
When will it end, the long vigil….
* * * * *
O, miracle of love!
You whom I adore unto delirium,
Your arms are white lilies upon my bosom.
Stars encircle me when your lips lean down to mine. There is the sound of many waters falling. There is the murmur of a million nightingales,—and the flash of brilliant lightning.
Caress celestial!
Moon-path of my dreams!
O, miracle of Love—my divinity and my crucifixion….
* * * * *
When the young moon silvers the sky, the earth is ours,
We shall go into the forest and wander in the shadow of the pines.
I shall cover you with leaves, and we shall lie on the soft moss entwined like sisters.
And all the while I will know that the fragrance of your skin is sweeter to me than the perfumes of a million roses….
* * * * *
Let me enfold you in my hair.
Let me wind you as in a golden skein.
Give me the curve of your throat, milky white and rose, that I may place about it the glossy fillets of my hair.
Don it as a shining mantilla….
Let my hair shower about you until you are radiant with perfume;
Let it ripple over you like the wind on summer wheat.
Then give me your lips that we may stand united beneath the downpour of its sunlight.
Let us be intermingled as two trees that have bent one single root….
* * * * *
It rains, Beloved….
The dripping of the rain is like the cool kisses of your mouth….
I faint beneath the rapture of your lips.
Be no longer tender.
Cover me with frenzied kisses,—even as I would drench my body in the cruel torrents of the rain.
Envelop me from throat to ankle in delirium intolerable….
* * * * *
To love you like the midnight storm!
To take you swooning unto death as the wind sweeps the waves in tempest!
To transport you unto delirium!
To hear the wild beating of your veins; to feel flame shuddering your blood and to agonize you with my ardor.
To crush you as a flower upon my breast,
To bear you away to some secret valley where I would love you unto insensibility….
* * * * *
If I think of you, I quiver from head to foot.
If I think of you tears flood my eyes.
If I pass you my heart quickens to suffocation and the blood seems to leave my body.
If I look into your eyes a sudden fire burns in my veins.
If I touch you I am as one possessed with madness; my arms tremble and my limbs totter beneath me.
To love you is to suffer the pangs of an intolerable agony.
* * * * *
I see you coming toward me….
Silently you take me in your arms.
Our lips meet and our eyes close.
I feel the shuddering of your breast and the beating of your throat against mine.
We are enveloped in darkness.
We know nothing but the thunder of our veins….
We are swept out into a sea of infinite oblivion.
poem by Blanche Shoemaker Wagstaff from The Book of Love (1917)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Life Has A Great Customer!
Life is having one great customer,
The Lord in disguise in every life,
Blessed is the lotus, which blooms in mudfilled lake,
Golden petals lotus, in trifle suffered hearts,
May it be an Einstein,
or may a Gibran,
Such births take place in this pool,
Filled with so many problems!
Yet the love is so great,
I love my beloved more than my life,
This life is his,
This life is for him,
Every moment I die and reborn in him,
Every sound of rustling leaves,
My beloved's call,
With every wind the fragrance of beloved cometh,
Every moving cloud shows,
Different face of my beloved,
With every raise and fall of a wave,
My beloved shows up,
In every golden rays of the Morning Sun is my beloved's procession,
Rooster calling, wake up see the glories procession of beloved,
Birds singing praise of the beloved,
In dewdrops his world shineth,
Everyday if one rooster or bird gone,
It take the rebirth to sing his glory,
Every dew dropp evaporated appear next morning,
So am I to die every moment,
To this world I am dead,
Ever living and sleeping in beloved's heart,
Whenever I want my eyes to fill his glory,
I come out of his heart,
Stand aside, and look at my beloved's beautiful face!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Regeneration
1.
Award, and still in bonds, one day
I stole abroad,
It was high-spring, and all the way
Primros'd, and hung with shade;
Yet, was it frost within,
And surly winds
Blasted my infant buds, and sin
Like clouds eclips'd my mind.
2.
Storm'd thus; I straight perceiv'd my spring
Mere stage, and show,
My walk a monstrous, mountain's thing
Rough-cast with rocks, and snow;
And as a pilgrim's eye
Far from relief,
Measures the melancholy sky
Then drops, and rains for grief,
3.
So sigh'd I upwards still, at last
'Twixt steps, and falls
I reach'd the pinnacle, where plac'd
I found a pair of scales,
I took them up and laid
In th'one late pains,
The other smoke, and pleasures weigh'd
But prov'd the heavier grains;
4.
With that, some cried, Away; straight I
Obey'd, and led
Full east, a fair, fresh field could spy
Some call'd it Jacob's Bed;
A virgin-soil, which no
Rude feet ere trod,
Where (since he slept there,) only go
Prophets, and friends of God.
5.
Here, I repos'd; but scarce well set,
A grove descried
Of stately height, whose branches met
And mixed on every side;
I entered, and once in
(Amaz'd to see't,)
Found all was chang'd, and a new spring
Did all my senses greet;
6.
The unthrift sun shot vital gold
A thousand pieces,
And heaven its azure did unfold
Checker'd with snowy fleeces,
The air was all in spice
And every bush
A garland wore; thus fed my eyes
But all the ear lay hush.
7.
Only a little fountain lent
Some use for ears,
And on the dumb shades language spent
The music of her tears;
I drew her near, and found
The cistern full
Of diverse stones, some bright, and round
Others ill'shap'd, and dull.
8.
The first (pray mark,) as quick as light
Danc'd through the flood,
But, th'last more heavy than the night
Nail'd to the center stood;
I wonder'd much, but tir'd
At last with thought,
My restless eye that still desir'd
As strange an object brought;
9.
It was a bank of flowers, where I descried
(Though 'twas mid'day,)
Some fast asleep, others broad-eyed
And taking in the ray,
Here musing long, I heard
A rushing wind
Which still increas'd, but whence it stirr'd
No where I could not find;
10.
I turn'd me round, and to each shade
Dispatch'd an eye,
To see, if any leaf had made
Least motion, or reply,
But while I listening sought
My mind to ease
By knowing, where 'twas, or where not,
It whispered: Where I please.
Lord, then said I, On me one breath,
And let me die before my death!
poem by Henry Vaughan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Boy And His Drawing
A boy once came across a penny.
Puzzled, he went to his sister Jenny.
He asked her What could he do?
She said we''ll buy something for you.
He went to the shop, to be fascinated by everything.
And at last decided that a Crayon Box he had to bring.
Thinking hard as to which colour to use.
He drew nature outside his window, that would amuse.
He drew his beautiful, first drawing.
To show his teacher, he went enjoying.
Teacher said smiling 'Great job Child! !
You drew the trees, the river, and the wind blowing mild.
The teacher added that without the drawing he should go.
Cause to many in school tomorrow, his drawing she'd show.
He went to bed smiling, and proud of what he had drawn.
His dream had come true, so he didn't dream till dawn.
Next day he went to School, to see his drawing there.
Many big people were there strangely, he wondered from where?
Many children had drawn pictures, at their best.
But he knew his drawing was better than rest.
He searched from the window, but his drawing was nowhere.
He didn't step forward, as he was scared of the crowd there.
He couldn't utter a word cause he didn't knew the word 'Betrayed'.
It wasn't from anyone else, but his teacher instead.
He couldn't do anything, but shed tears.
They were accompanied by rain of the year's.
The tears were more than the heavy rain.
They kept coming until the rain made him draw again.
poem by Vighnesh Birodkar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Autumn Months Splendor
The Autumn Months Melody
The hot summer days are gone and rolled by
The cool autumn months have once again arrived
The autumn majestic spirit permeates the land
It is another new day of autumn
The far sun above the horizon sends its rays and gentle warmth
on the valleys, mountains and hamlets
Nature has dressed in beautiful colors
The jolly trees are painted with red, yellow and brown
The autumn trees adorn the valleys and mountains that hug the skies
It is a portrait of panoramic dazzle
The brisk wind blows over the meadows
The cool wind sweeps the plains and fields
The tall trees dance and bow gently in grace
The tree branches hiss, swing and sway
The shivering leaves quiver with the wind
The green pastures are dotted with a mosaic
of dried brownish scattered leaves
Joining autumn happy symphony
The singing joyous birds, the playful beavers
The swimming silver fish in the water streams
All bring a solemn joy
The sun slowly climbs the immense skies
The autumn patchy clouds cast their shadows on the peaceful land
All painting an awesome picture of beauty, love and harmony
How beautiful are the melodies and splendor of the autumn months!
poem by Sherif Monem
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sun Rays (A Lyric)
The sun rays in your eye,
The love you’re giving that I have found;
Like sun that shines though the sky,
Each love must be worth and sound.
The sun that shines each day,
The love you gave from your heart;
What matter what we do or say,
Never let it depart.
Each heart is broken only once
And never grows from sorrow,
Let there never be no bygones
Not today nor tomorrow.
Sun rays oh sun rays
Never hide behind a cloud,
Sun rays all my days
That's what love's all about;
Give me no raining shower thought,
Nor glimpse of shadows I've caught.
On each star brightening night
When only flickering light is around,
I wish you'd hold me so tight
My fright could surely be drowned;
The sun rays the feeling of touch
Each love is not made of stone,
You know I love you so much
Oh never let me be here alone.
Each heart is broken only once
And never grows from sorrow,
Let there never be no bygones
Not today nor tomorrow.
Sun rays oh sun rays
Never hide behind a cloud,
Sun rays all my days
That's what love's all about;
Give me no raining shower thought,
Nor glimpse of shadows I've caught.
Sun rays oh sun rays
There are many turning ways,
Let’s give future to all
Before it returns to the haze;
Give me no answer: perhaps or not,
Tomorrow you may have forgot.
Sun rays oh sun rays
Sun brightening rays oh sun rays.
Sun rays oh sun rays
Never hide behind a cloud,
Sun rays all my days
That's what love's all about;
Give me no raining shower thought,
Nor glimpse of shadows I've caught.
Sun rays oh sun rays
Never hide behind a cloud,
Sun rays...
poem by Peter S. Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Hill Maples
Here on a hill of the occident stand we shoulder to shoulder,
Comrades tried and true through a mighty swath of the years!
Spring harps glad laughter through us, and ministrant rains of the autumn
Sing us again the songs of ancient dolor and tears.
The glory of sunrise smites on our fair, free brows uplifted
When the silver-kirtled day steps over the twilight's bars;
At evening we look adown into valleys hearted with sunset,
And we whisper old lore together under the smouldering stars.
Crescent moons of the summer gleam through our swaying branches,
Knee-deep in fern we stand while the days of the sun-time go;
And the winds of winter love usthe keen, gay winds of the winter,
Coming to our gray arms from over the plains of snow.
Down in the valleys beneath us is wooing and winning and wedding,
Down in the long, dim valleys earth-children wail and weep;
But here on these free hills we grow and are strong and flourish,
Comrades shoulder to shoulder our watch of the years to keep.
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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