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Priya
Bid me to live, and I will live,
Thy Protestant to be:
Or bid me love, and I will give
A loving heart to thee.

A heart as soft, a heart as kind,
A heart as sound and free
As in the whole world thou canst find,
That heart I'll give to thee.

Bid that heart stay, and it will stay,
To honour thy decree:
Or bid it languish quite away,
And't shall do so for thee.

Bid me to weep, and I will weep
While I have eyes to see:
And having none, yet I will keep
A heart to weep for thee.

Bid me despair, and I'll despair,
Under that cypress tree:
Or bid me die, and I will dare
E'en Death, to die for thee.

Thou art my life, my love, my heart,
The very eyes of me,
And hast command of every part,
To live and die for thee.



Robert Herrick




Priya
I do not love Thee

I do not love thee!-no! I do not love thee!
And yet when thou art absent I am sad;
And envy even the bright blue sky above thee,
Whose quiet stars may see thee and be glad.

I do not love thee!-yet, I know not why,
Whate'er thou dost seems still well done, to me:
And often in my solitude I sigh
That those I do love are not more like thee!

I do not love thee!-yet, when thou art gone,
I hate the sound (though those who speak be dear)
Which breaks the lingering echo of the tone
Thy voice of music leaves upon my ear.

I do not love thee!-yet thy speaking eyes,
With their deep, bright, and most expressive blue,
Between me and the midnight heaven arise,
Oftener than any eyes I ever knew.

I know I do not love thee! yet, alas!
Others will scarcely trust my candid heart;
And oft I catch them smiling as they pass,
Because they see me gazing where thou art.



Caroline Norton

Priya
Every day is a fresh beginning,
Listen my soul to the glad refrain.
And, spite of old sorrows
And older sinning,
Troubles forecasted
And possible pain,
Take heart with the day and begin again.



Susan Coolidge

Priya
I am: yet what I am none cares or knows,
My friends forsake me like a memory lost;
I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost;
And yet I am, and live with shadows tost

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
And een the dearest - that I loved the best
Are strange - nay, rather stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where man has never trod;
A place where woman never smiled or wept;
There to abide with my Creator, GOD,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept:
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie;
The grass below - above the vaulted sky.

John Clare

catch22
QUOTE(dimps @ Mar 17 2006, 03:15 AM) *
Good Ones Shiv and Catch -
very interesting and very different.

When love is an affliction
(by Nicholas Gordon)

When love is an affliction,
There's not much one can do.
Despite the way you've treated me,
I'm still in love with you.

I am the wave and you the rock
Against which I must break:
Again, again the crushing jolt,
The pain I can't forsake;

Again, again the long retreat
To safety, far from shore,
And then again, I don't know why,
The long trip back for more.

Perhaps it is nostalgia for
A long uncertain glow,
Or just some hope so beautiful
I cannot let it go.


Perhaps it is the need to try
For those who must depend
On who we are and what we do,
For whom this should not end.

What evil makes you hurt me so,
What defect of the heart?
What sense there is no greater whole
Of which you are a part?

What lonely choice that only you
Be served by what you choose?
What hard, hard fear of losing what
It is a gift to lose?

I dream sometimes my waiting love
Has made you turn again.
But you care only for yourself,
And I must love in vain.

sad.gif

You left me, but you cannot leave my heart

(by Nicholas Gordon)

You left me, but you cannot leave my heart.
I hold you there, with or without your will.
No matter where you go, you will be part
Of me, my dearest friend and lover still.
I'll tell you of the pain I feel, and all
The things you've done that hurt and make me bleed.
And then your icy words you will recall,
And comfort me, and give me what I need.
This I can do alone, and yet the real
You lives and lies far beyond my touch.
But since my true intention is to steal
The you I loved, the real you isn't much.
Don't worry--I'll treat you tenderly:
The lovely you, you left behind with me.



those are lovely dimps. Nichola Gordon writes such lovely poems
Priya
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all convictions, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.



Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

WB Yeats

catch22
Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm;
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.

‘Another Time’ (1940) no. 18, p. 43


I see it often since you’ve been away:
The island, the veranda, and the fruit;
The tiny steamer breaking from the bay;
The literary mornings with its hoot;
Our ugly comic servant; and then you,
Lovely and willing every afternoon.

‘New Verse’ October 1933, p. 15


Wandering between two worlds, one dead,
The other powerless to be born,
With nowhere yet to rest my head,
Like these, on earth I wait forlorn.

‘Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse’

Letters of thanks, letters from banks,
Letters of joy from girl and boy,
Receipted bills and invitations
To inspect new stock or to visit relations,
And applications for situations,
And timid lovers’ declarations,
And gossip, gossip from all the nations.

‘Night Mail’ (1936)

shivani
QUOTE

THE OBJECTION to BEING
STEPPED ON

At the end of the row
I stepped on the toe
Of an unemployed hoe.
It rose in offense
And struck me a blow
In the seat of my sense.
It wasn't to blame
But I called it a name.
Amd I must say it dealt
Me a blow that I felt
Like malice prepense.
You may call me a fool
What was there a rule
The weapon should be
Turned into a tool?
And what do we see?
The first tool I step on
Turned into a weapon.

Robert Frost


.. nice
catch22
QUOTE
THE OBJECTION to BEING
STEPPED ON

At the end of the row
I stepped on the toe
Of an unemployed hoe.
It rose in offense
And struck me a blow
In the seat of my sense.
It wasn't to blame
But I called it a name.
Amd I must say it dealt
Me a blow that I felt
Like malice prepense.
You may call me a fool
What was there a rule
The weapon should be
Turned into a tool?
And what do we see?
The first tool I step on
Turned into a weapon.

Robert Frost


really nice one, a parody of life
Priya
A charm invests a face
Imperfectly beheld.
The lady dare not lift her veil
For fear it be dispelled.

But peers beyond her mesh,
And wishes, and denies,
Lest interview annul a want
That image satisfies.

Emily Dickinson

Priya
To drift with every passion till my soul
Is a stringed lute on which all winds can play,
Is it for this that I have given away
Mine ancient wisdom, and austere control?
Methinks my life is a twice-written scroll
Scrawled over on some boyish holiday
With idle songs for pipe and virelay,
Which do but mar the secret of the whole.
Surely there was a time I might have trod
The sunlit heights, and from life's dissonance
Struck one clear chord to reach the ears of God.
Is that time dead? lo! with a little rod
I did but touch the honey of romance
And must I lose a soul's inheritance?




Oscar Wilde
catch22
When you come to the end of a perfect day,
And you sit alone with your thought,
While the chimes ring out with a carol gay
For the joy that the day has brought,
Do you think what the end of a perfect day
Can mean to a tired heart,
When the sun goes down with a flaming ray,
And the dear friends have to part?
Carrie Jacobs Bond 1862-1946

Had I said that, had I done this,
So might I gain, so might I miss.
Might she have loved me? just as well
She might have hated, who can tell!
'The Last Ride Together' (1855) st. 4


He that loves a rosy cheek,
Or a coral lip admires,
Or, from star-like eyes, doth seek
Fuel to maintain his fires;
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.
Thomas Carew c.1595-1640

Of all the girls that are so smart
There's none like pretty Sally,
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
'Sally in our Alley' (1729)

So sweet love seemed that April morn,
When first we kissed beside the thorn,
So strangely sweet, it was not strange
We thought that love could never change.
But I can tell—let truth be told—
That love will change in growing old;
Though day by day is nought to see,
So delicate his motions be.
Claribel (Mrs C. A. Barnard) 1840-69

I cannot sing the old songs
I sang long years ago,
For heart and voice would fail me,
And foolish tears would flow.

Robert Bridges'So sweet love seemed' (1894)

dimps
blink.gif

Bereft

(by Robert Frost)

Where had I heard this wind before
Change like this to a deeper roar?
What would it take my standing there for,
Holding open a restive door,
Looking down hill to a frothy shore?
Summer was past and the day was past.
Sombre clouds in the west were massed.
Out on the porch's sagging floor,
Leaves got up in a coil and hissed,
Blindly striking at my knee and missed.
Something sinister in the tone
Told me my secret my be known:
Word I was in the house alone
Somehow must have gotten abroad,
Word I was in my life alone,
Word I had no one left but God.


sad.gif

The Dead Man Walking

(by Thomas Hardy)

They hail me as one living,
But don't they know
That I have died of late years,
Untombed although?

I am but a shape that stands here,
A pulseless mould,
A pale past picture, screening
Ashes gone cold.

Not at a minute's warning,
Not in a loud hour,
For me ceased Time's enchantments
In hall and bower.

There was no tragic transit,
No catch of breath,
When silent seasons inched me
On to this death ....--

A Troubadour-youth I rambled
With Life for lyre,
The beats of being raging
In me like fire.

But when I practised eyeing
The goal of men,
It iced me, and I perished
A little then.

When passed my friend, my kinsfolk,
Through the Last Door,
And left me standing bleakly,
I died yet more;

And when my Love's heart kindled
In hate of me,
Wherefore I knew not, died I
One more degree.

And if when I died fully
I cannot say,
And changed into the corpse-thing
I am to-day,

Yet is it that, though whiling
The time somehow
In walking, talking, smiling,
I live not now.


Priya
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?



Edgar Allan Poe

Priya

Are you loving enough? There is some one dear,
Some one you hold as the dearest of all
In the holiest shrine of your heart.
Are you making it known? Is the truth of it clear
To the one you love? If death's quick call
Should suddenly tear you apart,
Leaving no time for a long farewell,
Would you feel you had nothing to tell---
Nothing you wished you had said before
The closing of that dark door?

Are you loving enough? The swift years fly---
Oh, faster and faster they hurry away,
And each one carries its dead.
The good deed left for the by and by,
The word to be uttered another day,
May never be done or said.
Let the love word sound in the listening ear,
Nor wait to speak it above a bier.
Oh the time for telling your love is brief,
But long, long, long is the time for grief.
Are you loving enough?

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Priya
I loved you;
even now I may confess,
Some embers of my love their fire retain;
But do not let it cause you more distress,
I do not want to sadden you again.

Hopeless and tongue-tied, yet I loved you dearly
With pangs the jealous and the timid know;
So tenderly I loved you, so sincerely,
I pray God grant another love you so.

Pushkin

Priya
They who are near me do not know that you are nearer to me than they are...

Those who speak to me do not know that my heart is full with your unspoken words...

Those who crowd in my path do not know that I am walking alone with you...

They who love me do not know that their love brings you to my heart...

Tagore




catch22
Priya, the 4 poems you posted were lovely. Now for a little humor.

QUOTE
Take this kiss upon the brow!

QUOTE
Are you loving enough? There is some one dear,
Some one you hold as the dearest of all

QUOTE
Those who speak to me do not know that my heart is full with your unspoken words...

QUOTE
I loved you;
even now I may confess,


Who is the lucky person. You could confess to us. We'll keep a secret. <img>







catch22
Sure there is music even in the beauty, and the silent note which Cupid strikes, far sweeter than
the sound of an instrument. For there is music wherever there is a harmony, order or proportion;
and thus far we may maintain the music of the spheres; for those well-ordered motions, and
regular paces, though they give no sound unto the ear, yet to the understanding they strike a note
most full of harmony.
‘Religio Medici’ (1643) pt. 2, sect. 9
Priya
QUOTE(catch22 @ Mar 21 2006, 12:22 AM) *
Priya, the 4 poems you posted were lovely. Now for a little humor.

QUOTE
Take this kiss upon the brow!

QUOTE
Are you loving enough? There is some one dear,
Some one you hold as the dearest of all

QUOTE
Those who speak to me do not know that my heart is full with your unspoken words...

QUOTE
I loved you;
even now I may confess,


Who is the lucky person. You could confess to us. We'll keep a secret. <img>




U mean who is the one granted a prelude to hell? laugh.gif

Raaz ki baat hai...mehfil mein kahein ya na kahein........... wub.gif

rollf.gif







catch22
Though earth and moon were gone
And suns and universes ceased to be
And thou wert left alone
Every existence would exist in thee.
‘Last Lines’

Sweet Love of youth, forgive, if I forget thee,
While the world’s tide is bearing me along;
Other desires and other hopes beset me,
Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong!
‘Remembrance’ (1846)

Though earth and moon were gone
And suns and universes ceased to be
And thou wert left alone
Every existence would exist in thee.
‘Last Lines’

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?—
With silence and tears.
‘When we two parted’ (1816)

All love at first, like generous wine,
Ferments and frets, until ’tis fine;
But when ’tis settled on the lee,
And from th’ impurer matter free,
Becomes the richer still, the older,
And proves the pleasanter, the colder.
‘Genuine Remains’ (1759) ‘Miscellaneous Thoughts’

She is not fair to outward view
As many maidens be;
Her loveliness I never knew
Until she smiled on me.
Oh! then I saw her eye was bright,
A well of love, a spring of light.
‘She is not fair’ (1833)


shivani
QUOTE
U mean who is the one granted a prelude to hell? (IMG:style_emoticons/default/laugh.gif)

Raaz ki baat hai...mehfil mein kahein ya na kahein........... (IMG:style_emoticons/default/wub.gif)

(IMG:style_emoticons/default/rollf.gif)


Me fly on the wal.. rollf.gif Dont count am here and tell pray tell Priya.. If Catch cant keep a secret who else can rotate1.gif

( btw is he jealous or something biggrin.gif ..fly wishes to know more... )
Priya
Fly on the poem thread, shoo fly shooo..... look.gif

Who is jealous? Catch? He was parading as a girl na. tongue1.gif

Aur chedo sab mujhe. Just bec U all have loves tucked away at home cry.gif
Priya

At last, when all the summer shine
That warmed life's early hours is past,
Your loving fingers seek for mine
And hold them close?at last?at last!
Not oft the robin comes to build
Its nest upon the leafless bough
By autumn robbed, by winter chilled,?
But you, dear heart, you love me now.

Though there are shadows on my brow
And furrows on my cheek, in truth,?
The marks where Time's remorseless plough
Broke up the blooming sward of Youth,?
Though fled is every girlish grace
Might win or hold a lover's vow,
Despite my sad and faded face,
And darkened heart, you love me now!

I count no more my wasted tears;
They left no echo of their fall;
I mourn no more my lonesome years;
This blessed hour atones for all.
I fear not all that Time or Fate
May bring to burden heart or brow,?
Strong in the love that came so late,
Our souls shall keep it always now!

Elizabeth Akers Allen

dimps
Dreams

~ Anne Bronte


While on my lonely couch I lie,
I seldom feel myself alone,
For fancy fills my dreaming eye
With scenes and pleasures of its own.
Then I may cherish at my breast
An infant's form beloved and fair,
May smile and soothe it into rest
With all a Mother's fondest care.

How sweet to feel its helpless form
Depending thus on me alone!
And while I hold it safe and warm
What bliss to think it is my own!

And glances then may meet my eyes
That daylight never showed to me;
What raptures in my bosom rise,
Those earnest looks of love to see,

To feel my hand so kindly prest,
To know myself beloved at last,
To think my heart has found a rest,
My life of solitude is past!

But then to wake and find it flown,
The dream of happiness destroyed,
To find myself unloved, alone,
What tongue can speak the dreary void?

A heart whence warm affections flow,
Creator, thou hast given to me,
And am I only thus to know
How sweet the joys of love would be?


Love Indestructible

~ Robert Southby

They sin who tell us Love can die.
With life all other passions fly,
All others are but vanity.
In Heaven Ambition cannot dwell,
Nor Avarice in the vaults of Hell;
Earthly these passions of the Earth,
They perish where they have their birth;
But Love is indestructible.
Its holy flame for ever burneth,
From Heaven it came, to Heaven returneth;
Too oft on Earth a troubled guest,
At times deceived, at times opprest,
It here is tried and purified,
Then hath in Heaven its perfect rest;
It soweth here with toil and care,
But the harvest time of Love is there.
dimps
Are You Loving Enough?

Ella Wheeler Wilcox


Are you loving enough?
There is some one dear,
Some one you hold as the dearest of all
In the holiest shrine of your heart.
Are you making it known?
Is the truth of it clear
To the one you love?
If death's quick call
Should suddenly tear you apart,
Leaving no time for a long farewell,
Would you feel you had nothing to tell---

Nothing you wished you had said before
The closing of that dark door?
Are you loving enough?
The swift years fly---
Oh, faster and faster they hurry away,
And each one carries its dead.
The good deed left for the by and by,
The word to be uttered another day,
May never be done or said.
Let the love word sound in the listening ear,
Nor wait to speak it above a bier.
Oh the time for telling your love is brief,
But long, long, long is the time for grief.
Are you loving enough?
Priya
Dimps!!!!! U posted mah poem!!!! ohmy.gif cry.gif

I mean I posted the 'Are U loving enough' one already a day back. smile1.gif But good one anyway.

Are we loving enough? Doubt it. Everyone says love is not enough. Life means more. But when death calls does anything else mean anything?
Priya
Dimps' post reminded me of this one by Bronte. Has it been posted before?


Farewell to thee! but not farewell
To all my fondest thoughts of thee:
Within my heart they still shall dwell;
And they shall cheer and comfort me.
O, beautiful, and full of grace!
If thou hadst never met mine eye,
I had not dreamed a living face
Could fancied charms so far outvie.

If I may ne'er behold again
That form and face so dear to me,
Nor hear thy voice, still would I fain
Preserve, for aye, their memory.

That voice, the magic of whose tone
Can wake an echo in my breast,
Creating feelings that, alone,
Can make my tranced spirit blest.

That laughing eye, whose sunny beam
My memory would not cherish less; -
And oh, that smile! whose joyous gleam
Nor mortal language can express.

Adieu, but let me cherish, still,
The hope with which I cannot part.
Contempt may wound, and coldness chill,
But still it lingers in my heart.

And who can tell but Heaven, at last,
May answer all my thousand prayers,
And bid the future pay the past
With joy for anguish, smiles for tears?

dimps
QUOTE(priya @ Mar 22 2006, 11:51 PM) *

Dimps!!!!! U posted mah poem!!!! ohmy.gif cry.gif

I mean I posted the 'Are U loving enough' one already a day back. smile1.gif But good one anyway.

Are we loving enough? Doubt it. Everyone says love is not enough. Life means more. But when death calls does anything else mean anything?


Sorry Priya .. I was actually trying to comment
on the poem that it was good - and by mistake I reposted the same -

So here I am sending 2 poems for you

by :Percy Bysshe Shelley

To ————

Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory.—
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.—

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heap'd for the beloved's bed—
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.


Love's Philosophy

The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle—
Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdain'd its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea—
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?
catch22
QUOTE
Love's Philosophy

The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle—
Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdain'd its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea—
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?


Dimps, this is fabulous. Lovely.
Priya
QUOTE(dimps @ Mar 23 2006, 11:33 AM) *


Love's Philosophy

The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle—
Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdain'd its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea—
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?




Dimps!!!!!! This is my absolute fav. I just adore this one. wub.gif

Catch!!! Do not believe U have not come across this one yet! ohmy.gif

catch22
Priya, in life time we do tend to miss such beutiful pieces. Life is a long learning experience. I am but an artful dodger.
shivani
Sigh!
Am I imagining things.. or I read Love's Philosophy here on this very thread.. just a few days ago.

time.. maybe to just absorb a bit.. for me..
And yeah.. someone did post Farewell as well.. wasn't it you only Priya..
but lovely poems.. all of you.
catch22
QUOTE
Sigh!
Am I imagining things.. or I read Love's Philosophy here on this very thread.. just a few days ago.


If it was, I did miss it. Lucky i read it the second time round.


"Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening"

by Robert Frost


Whose woods these are I think I know,

His house is in the village, though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.



My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.



He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.



The woods are lonely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.
Priya
Ya it is tough to keep track when one is familiar with the poems. Yaad nahin rehta ki yahan padha ki nahin. sad1.gif
Priya
In my sky at twilight you are a cloud
and your form and colour are the way I love them.
You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips
and in your life my infinite dreams live.

The lamp of my soul dyes your feet.
My sour wine is sweeter on your lips,
oh reaper of my evening song.
how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!

You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's
wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice.
Huntress of the depths of my eyes, your plunder
stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.

You are taken in the net of my music, my love,
and my nets of music are wide as the sky.
My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.
In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begins.


Pablo Neruda

shivani

... so beautiful : )

Silent Poem
backroad leafmold stonewall chipmunk
underbrush grapevine woodchuck shadblow

woodsmoke cowbarn honeysuckle woodpile
sawhorse bucksaw outhouse wellsweep

backdoor flagstone bulkhead buttermilk
candlestick ragrug firedog brownbread

hilltop outcrop cowbell buttercup
whetstone thunderstorm pitchfork steeplebush

gristmill millstone cornmeal waterwheel
watercress buckwheat firefly jewelweed

gravestone groundpine windbreak bedrock
weathercock snowfall starlight cockcrow

-- Robert Francis


Acquainted with night

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
O luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

-- Robert Frost


My november Guest

My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted gray
Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so wryly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell he so,
And they are better for her praise.

-- Robert Frost


A Considerable Speck

A speck that would have been beneath my sight
On any but a paper sheet so white
Set off across what I had written there.
And I had idly poised my pen in air
To stop it with a period of ink
When something strange about it made me think,
This was no dust speck by my breathing blown,
But unmistakably a living mite
With inclinations it could call its own.
It paused as with suspicion of my pen,
And then came racing wildly on again
To where my manuscript was not yet dry;
Then paused again and either drank or smelt--
With loathing, for again it turned to fly.
Plainly with an intelligence I dealt.
It seemed too tiny to have room for feet,
Yet must have had a set of them complete
To express how much it didn't want to die.
It ran with terror and with cunning crept.
It faltered: I could see it hesitate;
Then in the middle of the open sheet
Cower down in desperation to accept
Whatever I accorded it of fate.
I have none of the tenderer-than-thou
Collectivistic regimenting love
With which the modern world is being swept.
But this poor microscopic item now!
Since it was nothing I knew evil of
I let it lie there till I hope it slept.

I have a mind myself and recognize
Mind when I meet with it in any guise
No one can know how glad I am to find
On any sheet the least display of mind.

-- Robert Frost
.. This one I like a lot : ).

catch22
QUOTE
A Considerable Speck

A speck that would have been beneath my sight
On any but a paper sheet so white
Set off across what I had written there.
And I had idly poised my pen in air
To stop it with a period of ink
When something strange about it made me think,
This was no dust speck by my breathing blown,
But unmistakably a living mite
With inclinations it could call its own.
It paused as with suspicion of my pen,
And then came racing wildly on again
To where my manuscript was not yet dry;
Then paused again and either drank or smelt--
With loathing, for again it turned to fly.
Plainly with an intelligence I dealt.
It seemed too tiny to have room for feet,
Yet must have had a set of them complete
To express how much it didn't want to die.
It ran with terror and with cunning crept.
It faltered: I could see it hesitate;
Then in the middle of the open sheet
Cower down in desperation to accept
Whatever I accorded it of fate.
I have none of the tenderer-than-thou
Collectivistic regimenting love
With which the modern world is being swept.
But this poor microscopic item now!
Since it was nothing I knew evil of
I let it lie there till I hope it slept.

I have a mind myself and recognize
Mind when I meet with it in any guise
No one can know how glad I am to find
On any sheet the least display of mind.

-- Robert Frost
.. This one I like a lot : ).


I too
catch22
A stroll in the woods

As I strolled through the woods one day, it came as no surprise
That there beneath a toadstool, with a sparkle in his eye
Sat a large green frog.
The wind gusted and moved the leaves like feathers, across the forest floor
The sun peeked through at intervals,dancing shadows in dim light.
Atop of the old Oak tree the blue jay shreiked, to warn of our invasion
Squirrels, scurrying across in front and scooting up the closest tree,
With saucy impudence looking down at me.
A chattered invitation to play, is on his mind this day.
From beneath a rotten log a chipmunk pops its striped pouchy face
Cocking his head, checking out this wonderful place.
Scents of mold, mildew hang and stay
As fall leaves beneath my foot slowly rot away.
The smell of spring is in the air
Natures perfumes everywhere.
Bringing a bright cheerful spirit of mind
The daffodil and trilliums nod back and forth
As if conversing about spring of course!
In the little glade beneath the hemlock tree,
Bubbling silver globs flow over rocks in the stream.
Silver fish flashing in the sun,
As along the stream bed they run.
These are the woods of the Meadow wood marsh.
Where your senses feel no alarm
And God's secrets reach out to touch you
Envoking peace and calm!

Unknown
catch22

How Will It Be For Us?

No words can express my feelings,
Of how it will be for us,
But, to start a friendship,
Has to be based on Trust.

Trust between both is needed,
To make a friendship grow,
Trust, each step of the way,
As we take each step, real slow.

Lets build a life together,
Each learning about the other,
May each moment that we’re together,
Hurt, when away from t’other.

Then, we will know the meaning,
This Friendship has for us,
And we’ll make a continual effort,
To keep it from ‘Biting the Dust.’

Jonathan Goldman








TRUST
Kind Sir, Kind Sir, my Kingdom for a horse
Dear sir, perhaps a woman you can trust
Kind Sir, because i trusted a woman
Is how i lost my power as a King
Then perhaps she did not trust your trust
For isn't trust part of the make- up of love?
So very true Sir, are you saying she didn't love me
No great King, she loved your Kingdom more
Because her trust was less then yours
Do you still want the horse your majesty
Yes kind Sir could you make it two horses
I want to find out how far i can stretch her trust

allan james saywell

shivani
A Woman's trust

If he should live a thousand years
He'd find it not again
That scorn of him by men
Could less disturb a woman's trust
In him as a steadfast star which must
Rise scathless from the nether spheres:
If he should live a thousand years
He'd find it not again.

She waited like a little child,
Unchilled by damps of doubt,
While from her eyes looked out
A confidence sublime as Spring's
When stressed by Winter's loiterings.
Thus, howsoever the wicked wiled,
She waited like a little child
Unchilled by damps of doubt.

Through cruel years and crueller
Thus she believed in him
And his aurore, so dim;
That, after fenweeds, flowers would blow;
And above all things did she show
Her faith in his good faith with her;
Through cruel years and crueller
Thus she believed in him!

-Thomas Hardy


When all the world is looming dark
And things seem not so clear,
When shadows seem to hover 'round
Lord, may I persevere

When it seems everything's been tried
And there's no way to go,
Just let me keep remembering
Sometimes the journey's slow.

I may just need to stop and rest
Along the path I trod,
A time to try to understand
And have my talk with God.

As I gain new strength to carry on
Without a doubt or fear,
Somehow I know things will be right,
And so, I persevere.
-Anne Stortz

catch22
QUOTE
A Woman's trust

If he should live a thousand years
He'd find it not again
That scorn of him by men
Could less disturb a woman's trust
In him as a steadfast star which must
Rise scathless from the nether spheres:
If he should live a thousand years
He'd find it not again.

She waited like a little child,
Unchilled by damps of doubt,
While from her eyes looked out
A confidence sublime as Spring's
When stressed by Winter's loiterings.
Thus, howsoever the wicked wiled,
She waited like a little child
Unchilled by damps of doubt.

Through cruel years and crueller
Thus she believed in him
And his aurore, so dim;
That, after fenweeds, flowers would blow;
And above all things did she show
Her faith in his good faith with her;
Through cruel years and crueller
Thus she believed in him!

-Thomas Hardy


That's a lovely piece. I loooove Hardy's writings.
Priya
Love me at last, or if you will not,
Leave me; Hard words could never, as these half-words,
Grieve me:
Love me at last; or leave me.

Love me at last, or let the last word uttered
Be but your own;
Love me, or leave me; as a cloud, a vapor,
Or a bird flown.
Love me at last; I am but sliding water
Over a stone.



Alice Corbin
Priya
Poets are so succinct. I wrote a very similar poem years back but it rambled on and on. sigh.gif
shivani
QUOTE
Poets are so succinct. I wrote a very similar poem years back but it rambled on and on. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/sigh.gif)



... I dont think its about poets.. its about you .. that on and on thingie....
Priya
Thanks. With friends like U......
catch22
‘Songs and Sonnets’
John Donne 1572-1631

No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace,
As I have seen in one autumnal face.
Whoever loves, if he do not propose
The right true end of love, he’s one that goes
Take me to you, imprison me, for I
Except you enthral me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

Twice or thrice had I loved thee,
Before I knew thy face or name;
So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame,
Angels affect us oft, and worshipped be.
Just such disparity
As is ’twixt air and angels’ purity,
’Twixt women’s love, and men’s will ever be.

All other things, to their destruction draw,
Only our love hath no decay;
This, no tomorrow hath, nor yesterday,
Running it never runs from us away,
But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.

Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines, and silver hooks.

Sweetest love, I do not go,
For weariness of thee,
Nor in hope the world can show
A fitter love for me;
But since that I
Must die at last, ’tis best,
To use my self in jest
Thus by feigned deaths to die.

Go, and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me, where all past years are,
Or who cleft the Devil’s foot.

I am two fools, I know,
For loving, and for saying so
In whining poetry.

I have done one braver thing
Than all the Worthies did,
And yet a braver thence doth spring,
Which is, to keep that hid.

catch22
Echo

Christina Georgina Rossetti


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.
shivani
QUOTE
Thanks. With friends like U......



Please finish your sentence.
shivani
: )

The most beautiful flower

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read
Beneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree
Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown
For the world was intent on dragging me down.

And if that weren't enough to ruin my day,
A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play.
He stood right before me with his head tilted down
And said with great excitement, "Look what I found!"

In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight,
With its petals all worn - not enough rain, or too little light.
Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play,
I faked a small smile and then shifted away.

But instead of retreating he sat next to my side
And placed the flower to his nose
And declared with overacted surprise,
"It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too.
That's why I picked it; here, it's for you."

The weed before me was dying or dead.
No vibrant colors: orange, yellow or red.
But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave.
So I reached for the flower and replied. "Just what I need."

But instead of him placing the flower in my hand,
He held it mid-air without reason or plan.
It was then that I noticed for the very first time
That weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind.

I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun
As I thanked him for picking the very best one.
Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see
The problem was not with the world; the problem was me.

And for all of those times I myself had been blind,
I vowed to see the beauty in life,
And appreciate every second that's mine.
And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose
and breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose
And smiled as I watched that young boy,
Another weed in his hand,
About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.

-Unknown



Just Another Flower

I write this for you,
You know who you are.
The ones likeing happy poems,
Wishing upon a star.
The ones who like flowers, roses,
Who like laughing, never crying.
I hand you some posies,
When I write about dying.
The white you bare,
The black I like.
Flowers in your hair,
I spit on you with spite.
"Where's the happiness?" you ask,
"Where's the love?"
I respond, "On your mask.",
"Look below, then above."
- Unknown



Someone's wilted flower
Left crumpled on the floor
A picturesque example
Of a love that is no more

She knew he never loved her
She knew it couldn't be
But still she smiled all the while
As he pledged eternity

Summer came and ended
Love ceased to exist
No more talking over sunsets
No more fire when they kissed

But still a wilted flower
Left crumpled on the floor
And it bears a close resemblence
To the one left in her door

By a boy she never wanted
By a man she couldn't see
It's just a picturesque example
Of how ugly love can be.
-Nikki Vamp
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