English Poetry

Thanks. With friends like U......

‘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.

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.

Please finish your sentence.

: )

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

" The most beautiful flower"
That's a lovely & inspirational poem.

It's author should be, Cheryl L. Costello-Forshey

Beauty

Look in my eyes, what do you see,
Beauty of the inner me.
Deep down in your heart, what do you feel,
The beauty of a love that is real.
Touch my hand soft and tender
Is a beauty that makes you surrender.
Listen to my words, what do you hear,
Beauty flowing through the air
Look around you to your left and right
All you'll see is beauty tonight
Kiss my lips, what do you taste
A beauty that would never waste
Run your hands down my body
While looking into my eyes
Listen to my loving words
As my beauty conceals no lies

Nancy Amato

..... WHO NEEDS ENEMIES!

Love a star
A star cannot hurt you
Love the moon
The moon will not betray you
Reach for the unreachable
So it can't turn round and mock you
A mirage that persists to haunt you.

You say you must love
Well, pick a dream and love it
Knowing it as a dream
And loving it as a dream
Your dream, your ideal
Constant, unshakeable
It will keep you straight
Always there, always ahead
Give it your best
It will give you its best.

Childish, not realistic you say?
So be it
Reality does not exist.

Behind Silent Doors

Friendship and romance dance
Hand in hand descreetly...
Exposure can destroy joys uncovered
Too soon!
And the whispering one who loves another,
Knows this catch is rare.

Friendship and romance,
Enhanced in quarters secret...
Kept fresh, alive and undefeated.
Feeding on the calm of tranquility,
When peace is released to explore.

Friendship and romance
Comes to glance upon those who give,
Who share in private a growth of love
Unseen by eyes unslept by gossipying lies...
Yet set aside from envy...and swept away,
Behind silent doors to bloom!

Lawrence S. Pertillar

Sir George Etherege (or Etheredge) c.1635-91\

Fear not, though love and beauty fail,
My reason shall my heart direct:
Your kindness now will then prevail,
And passion turn into respect:
Chloris, at worst, you’ll in the end
But change your Lover for a friend.


Ephelia fl. 1679
And yet I love this false, this worthless man,
With all the passion that a woman can;
Dote on his imperfections, though I spy
Nothing to love; I love, and know not why.
‘Female Poems’ (1679)

David Everett 1769-1813
You’d scarce expect one of my age
To speak in public on the stage;
And if I chance to fall below
Demosthenes or Cicero,
Don’t view me with a critic’s eye,
But pass my imperfections by.
Large streams from little fountains flow,
Tall oaks from little acorns grow.

Edward Fitzgerald 1809-83
‘The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám’ (1859)

‘A book of verses underneath the bough, ;
A jug of wine, a loaf of bread—and Thou ;
Beside me singing in the wilderness ;
Oh, wilderness were paradise enow!’ ;

Ah, my belovèd, fill the cup that clears
To-day of past regrets and future fears:
To-morrow!—Why, to-morrow I may be
Myself with yesterday’s seven thousand years.

Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the dust descend;
Dust into dust, and under dust, to lie,
Sans wine, sans song, sans singer, and—sans End!

Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the wise
To talk; one thing is certain, that life flies;
One thing is certain, and the rest is lies;
The flower that once hath blown for ever dies.

With them the seed of wisdom did I sow,
And with mine own hand wrought to make it grow;
And this was all the harvest that I reaped—
‘I came like water, and like wind I go’.

Ah, fill the cup:—what boots it to repeat
How time is slipping underneath our feet:
Unborn TO-MORROW, and dead YESTERDAY,
Why fret about them if TO-DAY be sweet!

Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who
Before us passed the door of darkness through,
Not one returns to tell us of the road,
Which to discover we must travel too.

The moving finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy piety nor wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a line,
Nor all thy tears wash out a word of it.

And that inverted bowl we call The Sky,
Whereunder crawling cooped we live and die,
Lift not thy hands to
It for help—for It
Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.

Indeed the idols I have loved so long
Have done my credit in this world much wrong:
Have drowned my glory in a shallow cup
And sold my reputation for a song.

Aha..it is good to be back after the rush of
work of 31st MArch financial year ending...

Thank good I did not miss much here..

Parting

by Charlotte Bronte

There's no use in weeping,
Though we are condemned to part:
There's such a thing as keeping
A remembrance in one's heart:

There's such a thing as dwelling
On the thought ourselves have nurs'd,
And with scorn and courage telling
The world to do its worst.

We'll not let its follies grieve us,
We'll just take them as they come;
And then every day will leave us
A merry laugh for home.

When we've left each friend and brother,
When we're parted wide and far,
We will think of one another,
As even better than we are.

Every glorious sight above us,
Every pleasant sight beneath,
We'll connect with those that love us,
Whom we truly love till death!

In the evening, when we're sitting
By the fire perchance alone,
Then shall heart with warm heart meeting,
Give responsive tone for tone.

We can burst the bonds which chain us,
Which cold human hands have wrought,
And where none shall dare restrain us
We can meet again, in thought.

So there's no use in weeping,
Bear a cheerful spirit still;
Never doubt that Fate is keeping
Future good for present ill!

Did I / anyone else post it before ?

: ) .. If only you had told us, we would have ordered the time to stand still (in this thread) and wait for thee to come back.

Dont knwo if someone posted it here.. but guess I read recently.

That's a beauty.
No, you did'nt post here

Shiv..and catch you don't know how much I missed
coming here..

Ofcourse, the time would never stand still for us..
it will go on....



you are all such sweethearts..



Some from Nicholas Gordon

Though I broke my promise and your trust

Though I broke my promise and your trust,
My love for you remains as strong as ever.
I know it must mean little to swear never
Again to break my word, and yet I must.
What else can I do? Your fury's just,
But all my world will darken if you sever
My heart from yours. Please wait, and I'll endeavor
To blow new life into this mound of dust.
All that you require of me I'll do
And more, if what you ask leaves room for more.
Thus time will heal this wound and leave no scar.
Since I now know the pain of losing you,
I'll be yours more than I could before,
And you will see what my true feelings are


My pride is like a castle in the sand


My pride is like a castle in the sand
Washed away by hope and need and pain.
You left me holding someone else's hand,
And now you stand alone in midnight rain.
I want you back again if you want me;
I'm ready to rebuild what we have lost,
As the owner of a dream swept out to sea
Builds back upon the beach despite the cost.
My love for you is stronger than the waves,
Stronger than the doubts that we may share;
If you will say the word that my heart craves,
I'll find some flowered field and take you there.
And Time will sweep this interlude away;
It will barely be a memory someday.