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poem.id | poem.ts | poem.title | poem.content | poem.author |
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301 | 2018-02-27 03:55:31 | Beauty poem | The beautiful, the fair, the elegant,Is that which pleases us, says Kant,Without a thought of interest or advantage.I used to watch men when they spoke of beautyAnd measure their enthusiasm. OneAn old man, seeing a () setting sun,Praised it () a certain sense of dutyTo the calm evening and his time of life.I know another man that never says a BeautyBut of a horse; () Men seldom speak of beauty, beauty as such,Not even lovers think about it much.Women of course consider it for hoursIn mirrors; () A shrapnel ball -Just where the wet skin glistened when he swam -Like a fully-opened sea-anemone.We both said 'What a beauty! What a beauty, lad'I knew that in that flower he saw a hopeOf living on, and seeing again the roses of his home.Beauty is that which pleases and delights,Not bringing personal advantage - Kant.But later on I heardA canker worked into that crimson flowerAnd that he sank with itAnd laid it with the anemones off Dover. |
Wilfred Owen |
302 | 2018-02-27 03:55:33 | Pied Beauty poem | Glory be to God for dappled things -- For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings; Landscape plotted |&| pieced -- fold, fallow, |&| plough; And {'a}ll trades, their gear |&| tackle |&| trim. All things counter, original, sp{'a}re, strange; Whatever is fickle, freckl{`e}d, (who knows how?) With sw{'i}ft, sl{'o}w; sweet, s{'o}ur; ad{'a}zzle, d{'i}m; He fathers-forth whose beauty is p{'a}st change: Pr{'a}ise h{'i}m. |
Gerard Manley Hopkins |
303 | 2018-02-27 03:55:37 | Beauty poem | WHAT does it mean? Tired, angry, and ill at ease, No man, woman, or child alive could please Me now. And yet I almost dare to laugh Because I sit and frame an epitaph- 'Here lies all that no one loved of him And that loved no one.' Then in a trice that whim Has wearied. But, though I am like a river At fall of evening when it seems that never Has the sun lighted it or warmed it, while Cross breezes cut the surface to a file, This heart, some fraction of me, hapily Floats through a window even now to a tree Down in the misting, dim-lit, quiet vale; Not like a pewit that returns to wail For something it has lost, but like a dove That slants unanswering to its home and love. There I find my rest, and through the dusk air Flies what yet lives in me. Beauty is there |
Edward Thomas |
304 | 2018-02-27 03:55:40 | Youth And Beauty poem | I bought a dishmop-- having no daughter-- for they had twisted fine ribbons of shining copper about white twine and made a tousled head of it, fastened it upon a turned ash stick slender at the neck straight, tall-- when tied upright on the brass wallbracket to be a light for me and naked as a girl should seem to her father. | William Carlos Williams |
305 | 2018-02-27 03:55:45 | My Idea Of Beauty poem | Beauty is the sensation of your heart skipping a beat, when eyes full of mischief glance at you...Beauty is the smile which appears on your lips, when you think of the way he smiles at you...Beauty is in the heart which touches anotherBeauty is tender hands holding each otherBeauty is strong arms holding you warmBeauty is in water, beauty is in weather, beauty is in air, beauty is in lifeBeauty is in love, beauty is in wind...Beauty surrounds you days and nightsyet no one knows beauty's heights... |
Nitya Pillai |
306 | 2018-02-27 03:55:50 | Ballade Of My Lady's Beauty poem | Squire Adam had two wives, they say, Two wives had he, for his delight, He kissed and clypt them all the day And clypt and kissed them all the night. Now Eve like ocean foam was white And Lilith roses dipped in wine, But though they were a goodly sight No lady is so fair as mine. To Venus some folk tribute pay And Queen of Beauty she is hight, And Sainte Marie the world doth sway In cerule napery bedight. My wonderment these twain invite, Their comeliness it is divine, And yet I say in their despite, No lady is so fair as mine. Dame Helen caused a grievous fray, For love of her brave men did fight, The eyes of her made sages fey And put their hearts in woeful plight. To her no rhymes will I indite, For her no garlands will I twine, Though she be made of flowers and light No lady is so fair as mine. L'Envoi Prince Eros, Lord of lovely might, Who on Olympus dost recline, Do I not tell the truth aright? No lady is so fair as mine. |
Joyce Kilmer |
307 | 2018-02-27 03:55:56 | O Beauty, Passing Beauty! poem | O beauty, passing beauty! Sweetest sweet!How can thou let me waste my youth in sighs?I only ask to sit beside thy feet.Thou knowest I dare not look into thine eyes.Might I but kiss thy hand! I dare not foldMy arms about thee--scarcely dare to speak.And nothing seems to me so wild and bold,As with one kiss to touch thy blessed cheek.Methinks if I should kiss thee, no controlWithin the thrilling brain could keep afloatThe subtle spirit. Even while I spoke,The bare word "kiss" hath made my inner soulTo tremble like a lute string, ere the noteHath melted in the silence that it broke. |
Alfred Lord Tennyson |
308 | 2018-02-27 03:55:58 | Ode To Beauty poem | Who gave thee, O Beauty!The keys of this breast,Too credulous loverOf blest and unblest?Say when in lapsed agesThee knew I of old;Or what was the serviceFor which I was sold?When first my eyes saw thee,I found me thy thrall,By magical drawings,Sweet tyrant of all!I drank at thy fountainFalse waters of thirst;Thou intimate stranger,Thou latest and first!Thy dangerous glancesMake women of men;New-born we are meltingInto nature again.Lavish, lavish promiser,Nigh persuading gods to err,Guest of million painted formsWhich in turn thy glory warms,The frailest leaf, the mossy bark,The acorn's cup, the raindrop's arc,The swinging spider's silver line,The ruby of the drop of wine,The shining pebble of the pond,Thou inscribest with a bondIn thy momentary playWould bankrupt Nature to repay.Ah! what avails itTo hide or to shunWhom the Infinite OneHath granted his throne?The heaven high overIs the deep's lover,The sun and seaInformed by thee,Before me run,And draw me on,Yet fly me still,As Fate refusesTo me the heart Fate for me chooses,Is it that my opulent soulWas mingled from the generous whole,Sea valleys and the deep of skiesFurnished several supplies,And the sands whereof I'm madeDraw me to them self-betrayed?I turn the proud portfoliosWhich hold the grand designsOf Salvator, of Guercino,And Piranesi's lines.I hear the lofty PæansOf the masters of the shell,Who heard the starry music,And recount the numbers well:Olympian bards who sungDivine Ideas below,Which always find us young,And always keep us so.Oft in streets or humblest placesI detect far wandered graces,Which from Eden wide astrayIn lowly homes have lost their way.Thee gliding through the sea of form,Like the lightning through the storm,Somewhat not to be possessed,Somewhat not to be caressed,No feet so fleet could ever find,No perfect form could ever bind.Thou eternal fugitiveHovering over all that live,Quick and skilful to inspireSweet extravagant desire,Starry space and lily bellFilling with thy roseate smell,Wilt not give the lips to tasteOf the nectar which thou hast.All that's good and great with theeStands in deep conspiracy.Thou hast bribed the dark and lonelyTo report thy features only,And the cold and purple morningItself with thoughts of thee adorning,The leafy dell, the city mart,Equal trophies of thine art,E'en the flowing azure airThou hast touched for my despair,And if I languish into dreams,Again I meet the ardent beams.Queen of things! I dare not dieIn Being's deeps past ear and eye,Lest there I find the same deceiver,And be the sport of Fate forever.Dread power, but dear! if God thou be,Unmake me quite, or give thyself to me. |
Ralph Waldo Emerson |
309 | 2018-02-27 03:56:04 | Hymn To Intellectual Beauty poem | The awful shadow of some unseen PowerFloats through unseen among us, -- visitingThis various world with as inconstant wingAs summer winds that creep from flower to flower, --Like moonbeams that behind some piny mountain shower,It visits with inconstant glanceEach human heart and countenance;Like hues and harmonies of evening, --Like clouds in starlight widely spread, --Like memory of music fled, --Like aught that for its grace may beDear, and yet dearer for its mystery.Spirit of Beauty, that dost consecrateWith thine own hues all thou dost shine uponOf human thought or form, -- where art thou gone?Why dost thou pass away and leave our state,This dim vast vale of tears, vacant and desolate?Ask why the sunlight not for everWeaves rainbows o'er yon mountain-river,Why aught should fail and fade that once is shown,Why fear and dream and death and birthCast on the daylight of this earthSuch gloom, -- why man has such a scopeFor love and hate, despondency and hope?No voice from some sublimer world hath everTo sage or poet these responses given --Therefore the names of Demon, Ghost, and Heaven,Remain the records of their vain endeavour,Frail spells -- whose uttered charm might not avail to sever,From all we hear and all we see,Doubt, chance, and mutability.Thy light alone -- like mist oe'er the mountains driven,Or music by the night-wind sentThrough strings of some still instrument,Or moonlight on a midnight stream,Gives grace and truth to life's unquiet dream.Love, Hope, and Self-esteem, like clouds departAnd come, for some uncertain moments lent.Man were immortal, and omnipotent,Didst thou, unknown and awful as thou art,Keep with thy glorious train firm state within his heart.Thou messgenger of sympathies,That wax and wane in lovers' eyes --Thou -- that to human thought art nourishment,Like darkness to a dying flame!Depart not as thy shadow came,Depart not -- lest the grave should be,Like life and fear, a dark reality.While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and spedThrough many a listening chamber, cave and ruin,And starlight wood, with fearful steps pursuingHopes of high talk with the departed dead.I called on poisonous names with which our youth is fed;I was not heard -- I saw them not --When musing deeply on the lotOf life, at that sweet time when winds are wooingAll vital things that wake to bringNews of birds and blossoming, --Sudden, thy shadow fell on me;I shrieked, and clasped my hands in ecstasy!I vowed that I would dedicate my powersTo thee and thine -- have I not kept the vow?With beating heart and streaming eyes, even nowI call the phantoms of a thousand hoursEach from his voiceless grave: they have in visioned bowersOf studious zeal or love's delightOutwatched with me the envious night --They know that never joy illumed my browUnlinked with hope that thou wouldst freeThis world from its dark slavery,That thou - O awful Loveliness,Wouldst give whate'er these words cannot express.The day becomes more solemn and sereneWhen noon is past -- there is a harmonyIn autumn, and a lustre in its sky,Which through the summer is not heard or seen,As if it could not be, as if it had not been!Thus let thy power, which like the truthOf nature on my passive youthDescended, to my onward life supplyIts calm -- to one who worships thee,And every form containing thee,Whom, Spirit fair, thy spells did bindTo fear himself, and love all human kind. |
Percy Bysshe Shelley |
310 | 2018-02-27 03:56:06 | Soul's Beauty poem | Under the arch of Life, where love and death,Terror and mystery, guard her shrine, I sawBeauty enthroned; and though her gaze struck awe,I drew it in as simply as my breath.Hers are the eyes which, over and beneath,The sky and sea bend on thee,—which can draw,By sea or sky or woman, to one law,The allotted bondman of her palm and wreath.This is that Lady Beauty, in whose praiseThy voice and hand shake still,—long known to theeBy flying hair and fluttering hem,—the beatFollowing her daily of thy heart and feet,How passionately and irretrievably,In what fond flight, how many ways and days! |
Dante Gabriel Rossetti |
311 | 2018-02-27 03:56:09 | Beauty poem | Say not of beauty she is good, Or aught but beautiful, Or sleek to doves' wings of the wood Her wild wings of a gull.Call her not wicked; that word's touch Consumes her like a curse; But love her not too much, too much, For that is even worse.O, she is neither good nor bad, But innocent and wild! Enshrine her and she dies, who had The hard heart of a child. | Elinor Morton Wylie |
312 | 2018-02-27 03:56:14 | Beauty&Mdash;Be Not Caused&Mdash;It Is poem | 516Beauty—be not caused—It Is—Chase it, and it ceases—Chase it not, and it abides—Overtake the CreasesIn the Meadow—when the WindRuns his fingers thro' it—Deity will see to itThat You never do it— | Emily Dickinson |
313 | 2018-02-27 03:56:19 | Beauty, Time, And Love poem | I FAIR is my Love and cruel as she 's fair; Her brow-shades frown, although her eyes are sunny. Her smiles are lightning, though her pride despair, And her disdains are gall, her favours honey: A modest maid, deck'd with a blush of honour, Whose feet do tread green paths of youth and love; The wonder of all eyes that look upon her, Sacred on earth, design'd a Saint above. Chastity and Beauty, which were deadly foes, Live reconciled friends within her brow; And had she Pity to conjoin with those, Then who had heard the plaints I utter now? For had she not been fair, and thus unkind, My Muse had slept, and none had known my mind. II My spotless love hovers with purest wings, About the temple of the proudest frame, Where blaze those lights, fairest of earthly things, Which clear our clouded world with brightest flame. My ambitious thoughts, confined in her face, Affect no honour but what she can give; My hopes do rest in limits of her grace; I weigh no comfort unless she relieve. For she, that can my heart imparadise, Holds in her fairest hand what dearest is; My Fortune's wheel 's the circle of her eyes, Whose rolling grace deign once a turn of bliss. All my life's sweet consists in her alone; So much I love the most Unloving one. III And yet I cannot reprehend the flight Or blame th' attempt presuming so to soar; The mounting venture for a high delight Did make the honour of the fall the more. For who gets wealth, that puts not from the shore? Danger hath honour, great designs their fame; Glory doth follow, courage goes before; And though th' event oft answers not the same-- Suffice that high attempts have never shame. The mean observer, whom base safety keeps, Lives without honour, dies without a name, And in eternal darkness ever sleeps.-- And therefore, Delia, 'tis to me no blot To have attempted, tho' attain'd thee not. IV When men shall find thy flow'r, thy glory, pass, And thou with careful brow, sitting alone, Received hast this message from thy glass, That tells the truth and says that All is gone; Fresh shalt thou see in me the wounds thou mad'st, Though spent thy flame, in me the heat remaining: I that have loved thee thus before thou fad'st-- My faith shall wax, when thou art in thy waning. The world shall find this miracle in me, That fire can burn when all the matter 's spent: Then what my faith hath been thyself shalt see, And that thou wast unkind thou may'st repent.-- Thou may'st repent that thou hast scorn'd my tears, When Winter snows upon thy sable hairs. V Beauty, sweet Love, is like the morning dew, Whose short refresh upon the tender green Cheers for a time, but till the sun doth show, And straight 'tis gone as it had never been. Soon doth it fade that makes the fairest flourish, Short is the glory of the blushing rose; The hue which thou so carefully dost nourish, Yet which at length thou must be forced to lose. When thou, surcharged with burthen of thy years, Shalt bend thy wrinkles homeward to the earth; And that, in Beauty's Lease expired, appears The Date of Age, the Calends of our Death-- But ah, no more!--this must not be foretold, For women grieve to think they must be old. VI I must not grieve my Love, whose eyes would read Lines of delight, whereon her youth might smile; Flowers have time before they come to seed, And she is young, and now must sport the while. And sport, Sweet Maid, in season of these years, And learn to gather flowers before they wither; And where the sweetest blossom first appears, Let Love and Youth conduct thy pleasures thither. Lighten forth smiles to clear the clouded air, And calm the tempest which my sighs do raise; Pity and smiles do best become the fair; Pity and smiles must only yield thee praise. Make me to say when all my griefs are gone, Happy the heart that sighed for such a one! VII Let others sing of Knights and Paladines In aged accents and untimely words, Paint shadows in imaginary lines, Which well the reach of their high wit records: But I must sing of thee, and those fair eyes Authentic shall my verse in time to come; When yet th' unborn shall say, Lo, where she lies! Whose beauty made him speak, that else was dumb! These are the arcs, the trophies I erect, That fortify thy name against old age; And these thy sacred virtues must protect Against the Dark, and Time's consuming rage. Though th' error of my youth in them appear, Suffice, they show I lived, and loved thee dear. |
Samuel Daniel |
314 | 2018-02-27 03:56:23 | He Tells Of The Perfect Beauty poem | O CLOUD-PALE eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes,The poets labouring all their daysTo build a perfect beauty in rhymeAre overthrown by a woman's gazeAnd by the unlabouring brood of the skies:And therefore my heart will bow, when dewIs dropping sleep, until God burn time,Before the unlabouring stars and you. | William Butler Yeats |
315 | 2018-02-27 03:56:25 | Beauty, Inside And Out poem | I am black I am beautifulinside and outI am black I am beautifulmy voice is medium toned, I try not to shout I am black I am beautifulI don't let anyone put me downI am black I am beautifulThough sometimes I may act as a clownI am black I am beautifulI'm filled with such prideI am black I am beautifulI'll make such a wonderful brideBlack and Beautythat describes the outside of meNice or mean, you have to decideTo me and most people I am nice insideI am beautiful, I am blackI am black, I am beautiful |
Camacy Melville |
316 | 2018-02-27 03:56:32 | He Remembers Forgotten Beauty poem | When my arms wrap you round I pressMy heart upon the lovelinessThat has long faded from the world;The jewelled crowns that kings have hurledIn shadowy pools, when armies fled;The love-tales wrought with silken threadBy dreaming ladies upon clothThat has made fat the murderous moth;The roses that of old time wereWoven by ladies in their hair,The dew-cold lilies ladies boreThrough many a sacred corridorWhere such grey clouds of incense roseThat only God's eyes did not close:For that pale breast and lingering handCome from a more dream-heavy land,A more dream-heavy hour than this;And when you sigh from kiss to kissI hear white Beauty sighing, too,For hours when all must fade like dew.But flame on flame, and deep on deep,Throne over throne where in half sleep,Their swords upon their iron knees,Brood her high lonely mysteries. |
William Butler Yeats |
317 | 2018-02-27 03:56:34 | Amoretti Iii: The Sovereign Beauty poem | The sovereign beauty which I do admire,Witness the world how worthy to be praised:The light whereof hath kindled heavenly fireIn my frail spirit, by her from baseness raised;That being now with her huge brightness dazed,Base thing I can no more endure to view;But looking still on her, I stand amazed At wondrous sight of so celestial hue.So when my tongue would speak her praises due,It stopped is with thought's astonishment:And when my pen would write her titles true, It ravish'd is with fancy's wonderment:Yet in my heart I then both speak and write The wonder that my wit cannot endite. |
Edmund Spenser |
318 | 2018-02-27 03:56:37 | Beauty: [notes For An Unfinished Poem] poem | The beautiful, the fair, the elegant,Is that which pleases us, says Kant,Without a thought of interest or advantage.I used to watch men when they spoke of beautyAnd measure their enthusiasm. OneAn old man, seeing a ( ) setting sun,Praised it ( ) a certain sense of dutyTo the calm evening and his time of life.I know another man that never says a BeautyBut of a horse; ( )Men seldom speak of beauty, beauty as such,Not even lovers think about it much.Women of course consider it for hoursIn mirrors; ( )A shrapnel ball -Just where the wet skin glistened when he swam -Like a fully-opened sea-anemone.We both said 'What a beauty! What a beauty, lad'I knew that in that flower he saw a hopeOf living on, and seeing again the roses of his home.Beauty is that which pleases and delights,Not bringing personal advantage - Kant.But later on I heardA canker worked into that crimson flowerAnd that he sank with itAnd laid it with the anemones off Dover. |
Wilfred Owen |
319 | 2018-02-27 03:56:39 | I Died For Beauty But Was Scarce poem | I died for beauty but was scarceAdjusted in the tomb,When one who died for truth was lainIn an adjoining room.He questioned softly why I failed?'For beauty,' I replied.'And I for truth,--the two are one;We brethren are,' he said.And so, as kinsmen met a night,We talked between the rooms,Until the moss had reached our lips,And covered up our names. | Emily Dickinson |
320 | 2018-02-27 03:56:42 | A Hymn In Honour Of Beauty poem | Ah whither, Love, wilt thou now carry me?What wontless fury dost thou now inspireInto my feeble breast, too full of thee?Whilst seeking to aslake thy raging fire,Thou in me kindlest much more great desire,And up aloft above my strength dost raiseThe wondrous matter of my fire to praise.That as I erst in praise of thine own name,So now in honour of thy mother dear,An honourable hymn I eke should frame,And with the brightness of her beauty clear,The ravish'd hearts of gazeful men might rearTo admiration of that heavenly light,From whence proceeds such soul-enchanting might.Thereto do thou, great goddess, queen of beauty,Mother of love, and of all world's delight,Without whose sovereign grace and kindly dutyNothing on earth seems fair to fleshly sight,Do thou vouchsafe with thy love-kindling lightT' illuminate my dim and dulled eyne,And beautify this sacred hymn of thine:That both to thee, to whom I mean it most,And eke to her, whose fair immortal beamHath darted fire into my feeble ghost,That now it wasted is with woes extreme,It may so please, that she at length will streamSome dew of grace into my withered heart,After long sorrow and consuming smart.WHAT time this world's great Workmaster did castTo make all things such as we now behold,It seems that he before his eyes had plac'dA goodly pattern, to whose perfect mouldHe fashion'd them as comely as he could;That now so fair and seemly they appear,As nought may be amended anywhere.That wondrous pattern, wheresoe'er it be,Whether in earth laid up in secret store,Or else in heaven, that no man may it seeWith sinful eyes, for fear it to deflore,Is perfect Beauty, which all men adore;Whose face and feature doth so much excelAll mortal sense, that none the same may tell.Thereof as every earthly thing partakesOr more or less, by influence divine,So it more fair accordingly it makes,And the gross matter of this earthly mine,Which clotheth it, thereafter doth refine,Doing away the dross which dims the lightOf that fair beam which therein is empight.For, through infusion of celestial power,The duller earth it quick'neth with delight,And lifeful spirits privily doth pourThrough all the parts, that to the looker's sightThey seem to please. That is thy sovereign might,O Cyprian queen, which flowing from the beamOf thy bright star, thou into them dost stream.That is the thing which giveth pleasant graceTo all things fair, that kindleth lively fire,Light of thy lamp, which, shining in the face,Thence to the soul darts amorous desire,And robs the hearts of those which it admire;Therewith thou pointest thy son's poison'd arrow,That wounds the life, and wastes the inmost marrow.How vainly then do idle wits invent,That beauty is nought else but mixture madeOf colours fair, and goodly temp'ramentOf pure complexions, that shall quickly fadeAnd pass away, like to a summer's shade;Or that it is but comely compositionOf parts well measur'd, with meet disposition.Hath white and red in it such wondrous power,That it can pierce through th' eyes unto the heart,And therein stir such rage and restless stour,As nought but death can stint his dolour's smart?Or can proportion of the outward partMove such affection in the inward mind,That it can rob both sense and reason blind?Why do not then the blossoms of the field,Which are array'd with much more orient hue,And to the sense most dainty odours yield,Work like impression in the looker's view?Or why do not fair pictures like power shew,In which oft-times we nature see of artExcell'd, in perfect limning every part?But ah, believe me, there is more than so,That works such wonders in the minds of men;I, that have often prov'd, too well it know,And whoso list the like assays to ken,Shall find by trial, and confess it then,That beauty is not, as fond men misdeem,An outward shew of things, that only seem.For that same goodly hue of white and red,With which the cheeks are sprinkled, shall decay,And those sweet rosy leaves, so fairly spreadUpon the lips, shall fade and fall awayTo that they were, even to corrupted clay;That golden wire, those sparkling stars so bright,Shall turn to dust; and lose their goodly light.But that fair lamp, from whose celestial rayThat light proceeds, which kindleth lovers' fire,Shall never be extinguish'd nor decay;But when the vital spirits do expire,Unto her native planet shall retire;For it is heavenly born and cannot die,Being a parcel of the purest sky.For when the soul, the which derived was,At first, out of that great immortal Spright,By whom all live to love, whilom did passDown from the top of purest heaven's heightTo be embodied here, it then took lightAnd lively spirits from that fairest star,Which lights the world forth from his fiery car.Which power retaining still or more or less,When she in fleshly seed is eft enraced,Through every part she doth the same impress,According as the heavens have her graced,And frames her house, in which she will be placed,Fit for herself, adorning it with spoilOf th' heavenly riches which she robb'd erewhile.Thereof it comes that these fair souls, which haveThe most resemblance of that heavenly light,Frame to themselves most beautiful and braveTheir fleshly bower, most fit for their delight,And the gross matter by a sovereign mightTempers so trim, that it may well be seenA palace fit for such a virgin queen.So every spirit, as it is most pure,And hath in it the more of heavenly light,So it the fairer body doth procureTo habit in, and it more fairly dightWith cheerful grace and amiable sight.For of the soul the body form doth take:For soul is form, and doth the body make.Therefore wherever that thou dost beholdA comely corpse, with beauty fair endued,Know this for certain, that the same doth holdA beauteous soul, with fair conditions thewed,Fit to receive the seed of virtue strewed.For all that fair is, is by nature good;That is a sign to know the gentle blood.Yet oft it falls that many a gentle mindDwells in deformed tabernacle drown'd,Either by chance, against the course of kind,Or through unaptness in the substance found,Which it assumed of some stubborn ground,That will not yield unto her form's direction,But is deform'd with some foul imperfection.And oft it falls, (ay me, the more to rue)That goodly beauty, albe heavenly born,Is foul abus'd, and that celestial hue,Which doth the world with her delight adorn,Made but the bait of sin, and sinners' scorn,Whilst every one doth seek and sue to have it,But every one doth seek but to deprave it.Yet nathëmore is that fair beauty's blame,But theirs that do abuse it unto ill:Nothing so good, but that through guilty shameMay be corrupt, and wrested unto will:Natheless the soul is fair and beauteous still,However flesh{"e}s fault it filthy make;For things immortal no corruption take.But ye fair dames, the world's dear ornamentsAnd lively images of heaven's light,Let not your beams with such disparagementsBe dimm'd, and your bright glory dark'ned quite;But mindful still of your first country's sight,Do still preserve your first informed grace,Whose shadow yet shines in your beauteous face.Loathe that foul blot, that hellish firebrand,Disloyal lust, fair beauty's foulest blame,That base affections, which your ears would bland,Commend to you by love's abused name,But is indeed the bondslave of defame;Which will the garland of your glory mar,And quench the light of your bright shining star.But gentle Love, that loyal is and true,Will more illumine your resplendent ray,And add more brightness to your goodly hue,From light of his pure fire; which, by like wayKindled of yours, your likeness doth display;Like as two mirrors, by oppos'd reflection,Do both express the face's first impression.Therefore, to make your beauty more appear,It you behoves to love, and forth to layThat heavenly riches which in you ye bear,That men the more admire their fountain may;For else what booteth that celestial ray,If it in darkness be enshrined ever,That it of loving eyes be viewed never?But, in your choice of loves, this well advise,That likest to yourselves ye them select,The which your forms' first source may sympathize,And with like beauty's parts be inly deckt;For, if you loosely love without respect,It is no love, but a discordant war,Whose unlike parts amongst themselves do jar.For love is a celestial harmonyOf likely hearts compos'd of stars' concent,Which join together in sweet sympathy,To work each other's joy and true content,Which they have harbour'd since their first descentOut of their heavenly bowers, where they did seeAnd know each other here belov'd to be.Then wrong it were that any other twainShould in love's gentle band combined beBut those whom Heaven did at first ordain,And made out of one mould the more t' agree;For all that like the beauty which they see,Straight do not love; for love is not so lightAs straight to burn at first beholder's sight.But they, which love indeed, look otherwise,With pure regard and spotless true intent,Drawing out of the object of their eyesA more refined form, which they presentUnto their mind, void of all blemishment;Which it reducing to her first perfection,Beholdeth free from flesh's frail infection.And then conforming it unto the light,Which in itself it hath remaining still,Of that first Sun, yet sparkling in his sight,Thereof he fashions in his higher skillAn heavenly beauty to his fancy's will;And it embracing in his mind entire,The mirror of his own thought doth admire.Which seeing now so inly fair to be,As outward it appeareth to the eye,And with his spirit's proportion to agree,He thereon fixeth all his fantasy,And fully setteth his felicity;Counting it fairer than it is indeed,And yet indeed her fairness doth exceed.For lovers' eyes more sharply sighted beThan other men's, and in dear love's delightSee more than any other eyes can see,Through mutual receipt of beam{"e}s bright,Which carry privy message to the spright,And to their eyes that inmost fair display,As plain as light discovers dawning day.Therein they see, through amorous eye-glances,Armies of loves still flying to and fro,Which dart at them their little fiery lances;Whom having wounded, back again they go,Carrying compassion to their lovely foe;Who, seeing her fair eyes' so sharp effect,Cures all their sorrows with one sweet aspect.In which how many wonders do they redeTo their conceit, that others never see,Now of her smiles, with which their souls they feed,Like gods with nectar in their banquets free;Now of her looks, which like to cordials be;But when her words' embássade forth she sends,Lord, how sweet music that unto them lends.Sometimes upon her forehead they beholdA thousand graces masking in delight;Sometimes within her eyelids they unfoldTen thousand sweet belgards, which to their sightDo seem like twinkling stars in frosty night;But on her lips, like rosy buds in May,So many millions of chaste pleasures play.All those, O Cytherea, and thousands moreThy handmaids be, which do on thee attend,To deck thy beauty with their dainties' store,That may it more to mortal eyes commend,And make it more admir'd of foe and friend:That in men's hearts thou may'st thy throne install,And spread thy lovely kingdom over all.Then Iö, triumph! O great Beauty's Queen,Advance the banner of thy conquest high,That all this world, the which thy vassals bene,May draw to thee, and with due fealtyAdore the power of thy great majesty,Singing this hymn in honour of thy name,Compil'd by me, which thy poor liegeman am.In lieu whereof grant, O great sovereign,That she whose conquering beauty doth captiveMy trembling heart in her eternal chain,One drop of grace at length will to me give,That I her bounden thrall by her may live,And this same life, which first fro me she reaved,May owe to her, of whom I it received.And you, fair Venus' darling, my dear dread,Fresh flower of grace, great goddess of my life,When your fair eyes these fearful lines shall read,Deign to let fall one drop of due relief,That may recure my heart's long pining grief,And shew what wondrous power your beauty hath,That can restore a damned wight from death. |
Edmund Spenser |
321 | 2018-02-27 03:56:45 | Genius In Beauty poem | Beauty like hers is genius. Not the call Of Homer's or of Dante's heart sublime, -- Not Michael's hand furrowing the zones of time, -- Is more with compassed mysteries musical; Nay, not in Spring's Summer's sweet footfall More gathered gifts exuberant Life bequeaths Than doth this sovereign face, whose love-spell breathes Even from its shadowed contour on the wall.As many men are poets in their youth, But for one sweet-strung soul the wires prolong Even through all change the indomitable song; So in likewise the envenomed years, whose tooth Rends shallower grace with ruin void of truth, Upon this beauty's power shall wreak no wrong. |
Dante Gabriel Rossetti |
322 | 2018-02-27 03:56:48 | To What Serves Mortal Beauty? poem | To what serves mortal beauty ' —dangerous; does set danc- ing blood—the O-seal-that-so ' feature, flung prouder form Than Purcell tune lets tread to? ' See: it does this: keeps warm Men’s wits to the things that are; ' what good means—where a glanceMaster more may than gaze, ' gaze out of countenance.Those lovely lads once, wet-fresh ' windfalls of war’s storm, How then should Gregory, a father, ' have gleanèd else from swarm-ed Rome? But God to a nation ' dealt that day’s dear chance. To man, that needs would worship ' block or barren stone, Our law says: Love what are ' love’s worthiest, were all known;World’s loveliest—men’s selves. Self ' flashes off frame and face. What do then? how meet beauty? ' Merely meet it; own, Home at heart, heaven’s sweet gift; ' then leave, let that alone. Yea, wish that though, wish all, ' God’s better beauty, grace. |
Gerard Manley Hopkins |
323 | 2018-02-27 03:56:53 | On The Conduct Of The World Seeking Beau.. poem | Is that the only way we can become like Indians, like Rhinoceri, like Quartz Crystals, like organic farmers, like what we imagine Adam & Eve to’ve been, caressing each other with trembling limbs before the Snake of Revolutionary Sex wrapped itself round The Tree of Knowledge? What would Roque Dalton joke about latelyteeth chattering like a machine gun as he dabated mass tactics with his Companeros? Necessary to kill the Yanquis with big bomb Yes but don’t do it by yourself, better consult your motherto get the Correct Line of Thought, if not consult Rimbaud once he got his leg cut offor Lenin after his second stroke sending a message thru Mrs Krupskaya to the rude Georgian, & just before his deathly fit when the Cheka aidesoutsidehis door looked in coldly assuring him his affairs were in good hands no need to move - What sickness at the pit of his stomach moved up tohis brain?What thought Khlebnikov on the hungry train exposing his stomach to the sun?Or Mayakovsky before the bullet hit his brain, what sharp propaganda for actionon the Bureaucratic Battlefield in the Ministry of Collective Agriculture in Ukraine?What Slogan for Futurist architects or epic hymn for masses of Communist Party Card holders in Futurityon the conduct of the world seeking beauty against Government? |
Allen Ginsberg |
324 | 2018-02-27 03:56:56 | A Hymn Of Heavenly Beauty poem | Rapt with the rage of mine own ravish'd thought,Through contemplation of those goodly sights,And glorious images in heaven wrought,Whose wondrous beauty, breathing sweet delightsDo kindle love in high-conceited sprights;I fain to tell the things that I behold,But feel my wits to fail, and tongue to fold.Vouchsafe then, O thou most Almighty Spright,From whom all gifts of wit and knowledge flow,To shed into my breast some sparkling lightOf thine eternal truth, that I may showSome little beams to mortal eyes belowOf that immortal beauty, there with thee,Which in my weak distraughted mind I see;That with the glory of so goodly sightThe hearts of men, which fondly here admireFair seeming shews, and feed on vain delight,Transported with celestial desireOf those fair forms, may lift themselves up higher,And learn to love, with zealous humble duty,Th' eternal fountain of that heavenly beauty.Beginning then below, with th' easy viewOf this base world, subject to fleshly eye,From thence to mount aloft, by order due,To contemplation of th' immortal sky;Of the soare falcon so I learn to fly,That flags awhile her fluttering wings beneath,Till she herself for stronger flight can breathe.Then look, who list thy gazeful eyes to feedWith sight of that is fair, look on the frameOf this wide universe, and therein reedThe endless kinds of creatures which by nameThou canst not count, much less their natures aim;All which are made with wondrous wise respect,And all with admirable beauty deckt.First th' earth, on adamantine pillars founded,Amid the sea engirt with brazen bands;Then th' air still flitting, but yet firmly boundedOn every side, with piles of flaming brands,Never consum'd, nor quench'd with mortal hands;And last, that mighty shining crystal wall,Wherewith he hath encompassed this All.By view whereof it plainly may appear,That still as every thing doth upward tend,And further is from earth, so still more clearAnd fair it grows, till to his perfect endOf purest beauty it at last ascend;Air more than water, fire much more than air,And heaven than fire, appears more pure and fair.Look thou no further, but affix thine eyeOn that bright, shiny, round, still moving mass,The house of blessed gods, which men call sky,All sow'd with glist'ring stars more thick than grass,Whereof each other doth in brightness pass,But those two most, which ruling night and day,As king and queen, the heavens' empire sway;And tell me then, what hast thou ever seenThat to their beauty may compared be,Or can the sight that is most sharp and keenEndure their captain's flaming head to see?How much less those, much higher in degree,And so much fairer, and much more than these,As these are fairer than the land and seas?For far above these heavens, which here we see,Be others far exceeding these in light,Not bounded, not corrupt, as these same be,But infinite in largeness and in height,Unmoving, uncorrupt, and spotless bright,That need no sun t' illuminate their spheres,But their own native light far passing theirs.And as these heavens still by degrees arise,Until they come to their first Mover's bound,That in his mighty compass doth comprise,And carry all the rest with him around;So those likewise do by degrees redound,And rise more fair; till they at last arriveTo the most fair, whereto they all do strive.Fair is the heaven where happy souls have place,In full enjoyment of felicity,Whence they do still behold the glorious faceOf the divine eternal Majesty;More fair is that, where those Ideas on highEnranged be, which Plato so admired,And pure Intelligences from God inspired.Yet fairer is that heaven, in which do reignThe sovereign Powers and mighty Potentates,Which in their high protections do containAll mortal princes and imperial states;And fairer yet, whereas the royal SeatsAnd heavenly Dominations are set,From whom all earthly governance is fet.Yet far more fair be those bright Cherubins,Which all with golden wings are overdight,And those eternal burning Seraphins,Which from their faces dart out fiery light;Yet fairer than they both, and much more bright,Be th' Angels and Archangels, which attendOn God's own person, without rest or end.These thus in fair each other far excelling,As to the highest they approach more near,Yet is that highest far beyond all telling,Fairer than all the rest which there appear,Though all their beauties join'd together were;How then can mortal tongue hope to expressThe image of such endless perfectness?Cease then, my tongue, and lend unto my mindLeave to bethink how great that beauty is,Whose utmost parts so beautiful I find;How much more those essential parts of his,His truth, his love, his wisdom, and his bliss,His grace, his doom, his mercy, and his might,By which he lends us of himself a sight.Those unto all he daily doth display,And shew himself in th' image of his grace,As in a looking-glass, through which he mayBe seen of all his creatures vile and base,That are unable else to see his face,His glorious face which glistereth else so bright,That th' Angels selves cannot endure his sight.But we, frail wights, whose sight cannot sustainThe sun's bright beams when he on us doth shine,But that their points rebutted back againAre dull'd, how can we see with feeble eyneThe glory of that Majesty Divine,In sight of whom both sun and moon are dark,Compared to his least resplendent spark?The means, therefore, which unto us is lentHim to behold, is on his works to look,Which he hath made in beauty excellent,And in the same, as in a brazen book,To read enregister'd in every nookHis goodness, which his beauty doth declare;For all that's good is beautiful and fair.Thence gathering plumes of perfect speculation,To imp the wings of thy high-flying mind,Mount up aloft through heavenly contemplation,From this dark world, whose damps the soul so blind,And, like the native brood of eagles' kind,On that bright Sun of Glory fix thine eyes,Clear'd from gross mists of frail infirmities.Humbled with fear and awful reverence,Before the footstool of his majestyThrow thyself down, with trembling innocence,Ne dare look up with corruptible eyeOn the dread face of that great Deity,For fear, lest if he chance to look on thee,Thou turn to nought, and quite confounded be.But lowly fall before his mercy seat,Close covered with the Lamb's integrityFrom the just wrath of his avengeful threatThat sits upon the righteous throne on high;His throne is built upon eternity,More firm and durable than steel or brass,Or the hard diamond, which them both doth pass.His sceptre is the rod of righteousness,With which he bruiseth all his foes to dust,And the great Dragon strongly doth repress,Under the rigour of his judgement just;His seat is truth, to which the faithful trust,From whence proceed her beams so pure and brightThat all about him sheddeth glorious light:Light far exceeding that bright blazing sparkWhich darted is from Titan's flaming head,That with his beams enlumineth the darkAnd dampish air, whereby all things are read;Whose nature yet so much is marvelledOf mortal wits, that it doth much amazeThe greatest wizards which thereon do gaze.But that immortal light, which there doth shine,Is many thousand times more bright, more clear,More excellent, more glorious, more divine,Through which to God all mortal actions here,And even the thoughts of men, do plain appear;For from th' eternal truth it doth proceed,Through heavenly virtue which her beams do breed.With the great glory of that wondrous lightHis throne is all encompassed around,And hid in his own brightness from the sightOf all that look thereon with eyes unsound;And underneath his feet are to be foundThunder and lightning and tempestuous fire,The instruments of his avenging ire.There in his bosom Sapience doth sit,The sovereign darling of the Deity,Clad like a queen in royal robes, most fitFor so great power and peerless majesty,And all with gems and jewels gorgeouslyAdorn'd, that brighter than the stars appear,And make her native brightness seem more clear.And on her head a crown of purest goldIs set, in sign of highest sovereignty;And in her hand a sceptre she doth hold,With which she rules the house of God on high,And manageth the ever-moving sky,And in the same these lower creatures allSubjected to her power imperial.Both heaven and earth obey unto her will,And all the creatures which they both contain;For of her fullness which the world doth fillThey all partake, and do in state remainAs their great Maker did at first ordain,Through observation of her high behest,By which they first were made, and still increast.The fairness of her face no tongue can tell;For she the daughters of all women's race,And angels eke, in beauty doth excel,Sparkled on her from God's own glorious face,And more increas'd by her own goodly grace,That it doth far exceed all human thought,Ne can on earth compared be to aught.Ne could that painter (had he lived yet)Which pictured Venus with so curious quill,That all posterity admired it,Have portray'd this, for all his mast'ring skill;Ne she herself, had she remained still,And were as fair as fabling wits do feign,Could once come near this beauty sovereign.But had those wits, the wonders of their days,Or that sweet Teian poet, which did spendHis plenteous vein in setting forth her praise,Seen but a glimpse of this which I pretend,How wondrously would he her face commend,Above that idol of his feigning thought,That all the world should with his rhymes be fraught.How then dare I, the novice of his art,Presume to picture so divine a wight,Or hope t' express her least perfection's part,Whose beauty fills the heavens with her light,And darks the earth with shadow of her sight?Ah, gentle Muse, thou art too weak and faintThe portrait of so heavenly hue to paint.Let angels, which her goodly face beholdAnd see at will, her sovereign praises sing,And those most sacred mysteries unfoldOf that fair love of mighty heaven's King;Enough is me t' admire so heavenly thing,And being thus with her huge love possest,In th' only wonder of herself to rest.But whoso may, thrice happy man him hold,Of all on earth whom God so much doth graceAnd lets his own beloved to behold;For in the view of her celestial faceAll joy, all bliss, all happiness, have place;Ne aught on earth can want unto the wightWho of herself can win the wishful sight.For she, out of her secret treasury,Plenty of riches forth on him will pour,Even heavenly riches, which there hidden lieWithin the closet of her chastest bower,Th' eternal portion of her precious dower,Which mighty God hath given to her free,And to all those which thereof worthy be.None thereof worthy be, but those whom sheVouchsafeth to her presence to receive,And letteth them her lovely face to see,Whereof such wondrous pleasures they conceive,And sweet contentment, that it doth bereaveTheir soul of sense, through infinite delight,And them transport from flesh into the spright.In which they see such admirable things,As carries them into an ecstasy,And hear such heavenly notes, and carollingsOf God's high praise, that fills the brazen sky;And feel such joy and pleasure inwardly,That maketh them all worldly cares forget,And only think on that before them set.Ne from thenceforth doth any fleshly sense,Or idle thought of earthly things, remain;But all that erst seem'd sweet seems now offence,And all that pleased erst now seems to pain;Their joy, their comfort, their desire, their gain,Is fixed all on that which now they see;All other sights but feigned shadows be.And that fair lamp, which useth to inflameThe hearts of men with self-consuming fireThenceforth seems foul, and full of sinful blame;And all that pomp to which proud minds aspireBy name of honour, and so much desire,Seems to them baseness, and all riches dross,And all mirth sadness, and all lucre loss.So full their eyes are of that glorious sight,And senses fraught with such satiety,That in nought else on earth they can delight,But in th' aspect of that felicity,Which they have written in their inward eye;On which they feed, and in their fastened mindAll happy joy and full contentment find.Ah, then, my hungry soul, which long hast fedOn idle fancies of thy foolish thought,And, with false beauty's flatt'ring bait misled,Hast after vain deceitful shadows sought,Which all are fled, and now have left thee noughtBut late repentance through thy follies prief;Ah cease to gaze on matter of thy grief:And look at last up to that sovereign light,From whose pure beams all perfect beauty springs,That kindleth love in every godly sprite,Even the love of God, which loathing bringsOf this vile world and these gay-seeming things;With whose sweet pleasures being so possest,Thy straying thoughts henceforth for ever rest. |
Edmund Spenser |
325 | 2018-02-27 03:57:02 | Clothed In Beauty poem | As if chiseled, a fruit-laden branchHangs in my garden, asleep - so low...The trees sleep - and dream? - in moonlight;And the mystery of their life is near, near...Even if we cannot grasp it,The mute language is still intelligible:They use our beauty to expressHow we are one amidst rays and spots of light.And the tremor of any life's creationReveals itself in a lovely form;And the variance of different things is sweetenedBy shared beauty. Multiply it!And the world will be like this unstirring garden,Where everything heeds a harmonious silence:Both stem and flower yield to the dear Earth;Both flower and stem listen to the Moon. |
Vyacheslav Ivanovich Ivanov |
326 | 2018-02-27 03:57:08 | Beauty poem | beauty is a gift of godlove and affectionbeauty and warmthpleasure and comfortbeauty is a desireof lovely face and heartbeauty is a melodious tunebeauty is artwhat is beautywithout love and affectionbeauty is happinessof a kind naturesuch a beauty aishwarya rai hasimpressive and bold eyesif she can be beautifulso can u bebe gud and have some funbeing beautiful is a kind of a dutybeauty is of love and affection not any kind of rejection |
sakshi mathur |
327 | 2018-02-27 03:57:14 | Seeking Beauty poem | Cold winds can never freeze, nor thunder sour The cup of cheer that Beauty draws for me Out of those Azure heavens and this green earth -- I drink and drink, and thirst the more I see.To see the dewdrops thrill the blades of grass, Makes my whole body shake; for here's my choice Of either sun or shade, and both are green -- A Chaffinch laughs in his melodious voice.The banks are stormed by Speedwell, that blue flower So like a little heaven with one star out; I see an amber lake of buttercups, And Hawthorn foams the hedges round about.The old Oak tree looks now so green and young, That even swallows perch awhile and sing: This is that time of year, so sweet and warm, When bats wait not for stars ere they take wing.As long as I love Beauty I am young, Am young or old as I love more or less; When Beauty is not heeded or seems stale, My life's a cheat, let Death end my distress. |
William Henry Davies |
328 | 2018-02-27 03:57:16 | An Hymn In Honour Of Beauty poem | AH whither, Love, wilt thou now carry me? What wontless fury dost thou now inspire Into my feeble breast, too full of thee? Whilst seeking to aslake thy raging fire, Thou in me kindlest much more great desire, And up aloft above my strength dost raise The wondrous matter of my fire to praise. That as I erst in praise of thine own name, So now in honour of thy mother dear, An honourable hymn I eke should frame, And with the brightness of her beauty clear, The ravish'd hearts of gazeful men might rear To admiration of that heavenly light, From whence proceeds such soul-enchanting might. Thereto do thou, great goddess, queen of beauty, Mother of love, and of all world's delight, Without whose sovereign grace and kindly duty Nothing on earth seems fair to fleshly sight, Do thou vouchsafe with thy love-kindling light T' illuminate my dim and dulled eyne, And beautify this sacred hymn of thine: That both to thee, to whom I mean it most, And eke to her, whose fair immortal beam Hath darted fire into my feeble ghost, That now it wasted is with woes extreme, It may so please, that she at length will stream Some dew of grace into my withered heart, After long sorrow and consuming smart. WHAT time this world's great Workmaster did cast To make all things such as we now behold, It seems that he before his eyes had plac'd A goodly pattern, to whose perfect mould He fashion'd them as comely as he could; That now so fair and seemly they appear, As nought may be amended anywhere. That wondrous pattern, wheresoe'er it be, Whether in earth laid up in secret store, Or else in heaven, that no man may it see With sinful eyes, for fear it to deflore, Is perfect Beauty, which all men adore; Whose face and feature doth so much excel All mortal sense, that none the same may tell. Thereof as every earthly thing partakes Or more or less, by influence divine, So it more fair accordingly it makes, And the gross matter of this earthly mine, Which clotheth it, thereafter doth refine, Doing away the dross which dims the light Of that fair beam which therein is empight. For, through infusion of celestial power, The duller earth it quick'neth with delight, And lifeful spirits privily doth pour Through all the parts, that to the looker's sight They seem to please. That is thy sovereign might, O Cyprian queen, which flowing from the beam Of thy bright star, thou into them dost stream. That is the thing which giveth pleasant grace To all things fair, that kindleth lively fire, Light of thy lamp, which, shining in the face, Thence to the soul darts amorous desire, And robs the hearts of those which it admire; Therewith thou pointest thy son's poison'd arrow, That wounds the life, and wastes the inmost marrow. How vainly then do idle wits invent, That beauty is nought else but mixture made Of colours fair, and goodly temp'rament Of pure complexions, that shall quickly fade And pass away, like to a summer's shade; Or that it is but comely composition Of parts well measur'd, with meet disposition. Hath white and red in it such wondrous power, That it can pierce through th' eyes unto the heart, And therein stir such rage and restless stour, As nought but death can stint his dolour's smart? Or can proportion of the outward part Move such affection in the inward mind, That it can rob both sense and reason blind? Why do not then the blossoms of the field, Which are array'd with much more orient hue, And to the sense most dainty odours yield, Work like impression in the looker's view? Or why do not fair pictures like power shew, In which oft-times we nature see of art Excell'd, in perfect limning every part? But ah, believe me, there is more than so, That works such wonders in the minds of men; I, that have often prov'd, too well it know, And whoso list the like assays to ken, Shall find by trial, and confess it then, That beauty is not, as fond men misdeem, An outward shew of things, that only seem. For that same goodly hue of white and red, With which the cheeks are sprinkled, shall decay, And those sweet rosy leaves, so fairly spread Upon the lips, shall fade and fall away To that they were, even to corrupted clay; That golden wire, those sparkling stars so bright, Shall turn to dust; and lose their goodly light. But that fair lamp, from whose celestial ray That light proceeds, which kindleth lovers' fire, Shall never be extinguish'd nor decay; But when the vital spirits do expire, Unto her native planet shall retire; For it is heavenly born and cannot die, Being a parcel of the purest sky. For when the soul, the which derived was, At first, out of that great immortal Spright, By whom all live to love, whilom did pass Down from the top of purest heaven's height To be embodied here, it then took light And lively spirits from that fairest star, Which lights the world forth from his fiery car. Which power retaining still or more or less, When she in fleshly seed is eft enraced, Through every part she doth the same impress, According as the heavens have her graced, And frames her house, in which she will be placed, Fit for herself, adorning it with spoil Of th' heavenly riches which she robb'd erewhile. Thereof it comes that these fair souls, which have The most resemblance of that heavenly light, Frame to themselves most beautiful and brave Their fleshly bower, most fit for their delight, And the gross matter by a sovereign might Tempers so trim, that it may well be seen A palace fit for such a virgin queen. So every spirit, as it is most pure, And hath in it the more of heavenly light, So it the fairer body doth procure To habit in, and it more fairly dight With cheerful grace and amiable sight. For of the soul the body form doth take: For soul is form, and doth the body make. Therefore wherever that thou dost behold A comely corpse, with beauty fair endued, Know this for certain, that the same doth hold A beauteous soul, with fair conditions thewed, Fit to receive the seed of virtue strewed. For all that fair is, is by nature good; That is a sign to know the gentle blood. Yet oft it falls that many a gentle mind Dwells in deformed tabernacle drown'd, Either by chance, against the course of kind, Or through unaptness in the substance found, Which it assumed of some stubborn ground, That will not yield unto her form's direction, But is deform'd with some foul imperfection. And oft it falls, (ay me, the more to rue) That goodly beauty, albe heavenly born, Is foul abus'd, and that celestial hue, Which doth the world with her delight adorn, Made but the bait of sin, and sinners' scorn, Whilst every one doth seek and sue to have it, But every one doth seek but to deprave it. Yet nathëmore is that fair beauty's blame, But theirs that do abuse it unto ill: Nothing so good, but that through guilty shame May be corrupt, and wrested unto will: Natheless the soul is fair and beauteous still, However flesh{"e}s fault it filthy make; For things immortal no corruption take. But ye fair dames, the world's dear ornaments And lively images of heaven's light, Let not your beams with such disparagements Be dimm'd, and your bright glory dark'ned quite; But mindful still of your first country's sight, Do still preserve your first informed grace, Whose shadow yet shines in your beauteous face. Loathe that foul blot, that hellish firebrand, Disloyal lust, fair beauty's foulest blame, That base affections, which your ears would bland, Commend to you by love's abused name, But is indeed the bondslave of defame; Which will the garland of your glory mar, And quench the light of your bright shining star. But gentle Love, that loyal is and true, Will more illumine your resplendent ray, And add more brightness to your goodly hue, From light of his pure fire; which, by like way Kindled of yours, your likeness doth display; Like as two mirrors, by oppos'd reflection, Do both express the face's first impression. Therefore, to make your beauty more appear, It you behoves to love, and forth to lay That heavenly riches which in you ye bear, That men the more admire their fountain may; For else what booteth that celestial ray, If it in darkness be enshrined ever, That it of loving eyes be viewed never? But, in your choice of loves, this well advise, That likest to yourselves ye them select, The which your forms' first source may sympathize, And with like beauty's parts be inly deckt; For, if you loosely love without respect, It is no love, but a discordant war, Whose unlike parts amongst themselves do jar. For love is a celestial harmony Of likely hearts compos'd of stars' concent, Which join together in sweet sympathy, To work each other's joy and true content, Which they have harbour'd since their first descent Out of their heavenly bowers, where they did see And know each other here belov'd to be. Then wrong it were that any other twain Should in love's gentle band combined be But those whom Heaven did at first ordain, And made out of one mould the more t' agree; For all that like the beauty which they see, Straight do not love; for love is not so light As straight to burn at first beholder's sight. But they, which love indeed, look otherwise, With pure regard and spotless true intent, Drawing out of the object of their eyes A more refined form, which they present Unto their mind, void of all blemishment; Which it reducing to her first perfection, Beholdeth free from flesh's frail infection. And then conforming it unto the light, Which in itself it hath remaining still, Of that first Sun, yet sparkling in his sight, Thereof he fashions in his higher skill An heavenly beauty to his fancy's will; And it embracing in his mind entire, The mirror of his own thought doth admire. Which seeing now so inly fair to be, As outward it appeareth to the eye, And with his spirit's proportion to agree, He thereon fixeth all his fantasy, And fully setteth his felicity; Counting it fairer than it is indeed, And yet indeed her fairness doth exceed. For lovers' eyes more sharply sighted be Than other men's, and in dear love's delight See more than any other eyes can see, Through mutual receipt of beam{"e}s bright, Which carry privy message to the spright, And to their eyes that inmost fair display, As plain as light discovers dawning day. Therein they see, through amorous eye-glances, Armies of loves still flying to and fro, Which dart at them their little fiery lances; Whom having wounded, back again they go, Carrying compassion to their lovely foe; Who, seeing her fair eyes' so sharp effect, Cures all their sorrows with one sweet aspect. In which how many wonders do they rede To their conceit, that others never see, Now of her smiles, with which their souls they feed, Like gods with nectar in their banquets free; Now of her looks, which like to cordials be; But when her words' embássade forth she sends, Lord, how sweet music that unto them lends. Sometimes upon her forehead they behold A thousand graces masking in delight; Sometimes within her eyelids they unfold Ten thousand sweet belgards, which to their sight Do seem like twinkling stars in frosty night; But on her lips, like rosy buds in May, So many millions of chaste pleasures play. All those, O Cytherea, and thousands more Thy handmaids be, which do on thee attend, To deck thy beauty with their dainties' store, That may it more to mortal eyes commend, And make it more admir'd of foe and friend: That in men's hearts thou may'st thy throne install, And spread thy lovely kingdom over all. Then Iö, triumph! O great Beauty's Queen, Advance the banner of thy conquest high, That all this world, the which thy vassals bene, May draw to thee, and with due fealty Adore the power of thy great majesty, Singing this hymn in honour of thy name, Compil'd by me, which thy poor liegeman am. In lieu whereof grant, O great sovereign, That she whose conquering beauty doth captive My trembling heart in her eternal chain, One drop of grace at length will to me give, That I her bounden thrall by her may live, And this same life, which first fro me she reaved, May owe to her, of whom I it received. And you, fair Venus' darling, my dear dread, Fresh flower of grace, great goddess of my life, When your fair eyes these fearful lines shall read, Deign to let fall one drop of due relief, That may recure my heart's long pining grief, And shew what wondrous power your beauty hath, That can restore a damned wight from death. |
Edmund Spenser |
329 | 2018-02-27 03:57:22 | Sonnet 54: O, How Much More Doth Beauty .. poem | O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seemBy that sweet ornament which truth doth give!The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deemFor that sweet odour which doth in it live.The canker blooms have full as deep a dyeAs the perfumèd tincture of the roses,Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonlyWhen summer's breath their maskèd buds discloses;But, for their virtue only is their show,They live unwooed and unrespected fade,Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made. And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth, When that shall vade, by verse distills your truth. |
William Shakespeare |
330 | 2018-02-27 03:57:27 | Beauty Imposes poem | Beauty imposes reverence in the Spring, Grave as the urge within the honeybuds, It wounds us as we sing. Beauty is joy that stays not overlong. Clad in the magic of sincerities, It rides up in a song. Beauty imposes chastenings on the heart, Grave as the birds in last solemnities Assembling to depart. | John Shaw Neilson |
331 | 2018-02-27 03:57:30 | ! The Eye Of Beauty poem | Krishna passed that mountain many times; and yet his followers observed that daythat all his mind was filled with fresh delightas if he'd never walked, nor seen, that way; the beauty of the mountain ever new, the moment of its sight, the world reborn; the mind surprised by what it always knew: the beauty past all beauty's name and form.This is true beauty, in ourself revealed: a sight that's ever fresh, yet ever known; which eye sees pure, yet mind too oft conceals: God's unity, in beauty seen; all, One; The moment's grace of beauty, ours all day; from outward eye the sight of inward Way. |
Michael Shepherd |
332 | 2018-02-27 03:57:33 | An Hymn Of Heavenly Beauty poem | Rapt with the rage of mine own ravish'd thought, Through contemplation of those goodly sights, And glorious images in heaven wrought, Whose wondrous beauty, breathing sweet delights Do kindle love in high-conceited sprights; I fain to tell the things that I behold, But feel my wits to fail, and tongue to fold. Vouchsafe then, O thou most Almighty Spright, From whom all gifts of wit and knowledge flow, To shed into my breast some sparkling light Of thine eternal truth, that I may show Some little beams to mortal eyes below Of that immortal beauty, there with thee, Which in my weak distraughted mind I see; That with the glory of so goodly sight The hearts of men, which fondly here admire Fair seeming shews, and feed on vain delight, Transported with celestial desire Of those fair forms, may lift themselves up higher, And learn to love, with zealous humble duty, Th' eternal fountain of that heavenly beauty. Beginning then below, with th' easy view Of this base world, subject to fleshly eye, From thence to mount aloft, by order due, To contemplation of th' immortal sky; Of the soare falcon so I learn to fly, That flags awhile her fluttering wings beneath, Till she herself for stronger flight can breathe. Then look, who list thy gazeful eyes to feed With sight of that is fair, look on the frame Of this wide universe, and therein reed The endless kinds of creatures which by name Thou canst not count, much less their natures aim; All which are made with wondrous wise respect, And all with admirable beauty deckt. First th' earth, on adamantine pillars founded, Amid the sea engirt with brazen bands; Then th' air still flitting, but yet firmly bounded On every side, with piles of flaming brands, Never consum'd, nor quench'd with mortal hands; And last, that mighty shining crystal wall, Wherewith he hath encompassed this All. By view whereof it plainly may appear, That still as every thing doth upward tend, And further is from earth, so still more clear And fair it grows, till to his perfect end Of purest beauty it at last ascend; Air more than water, fire much more than air, And heaven than fire, appears more pure and fair. Look thou no further, but affix thine eye On that bright, shiny, round, still moving mass, The house of blessed gods, which men call sky, All sow'd with glist'ring stars more thick than grass, Whereof each other doth in brightness pass, But those two most, which ruling night and day, As king and queen, the heavens' empire sway; And tell me then, what hast thou ever seen That to their beauty may compared be, Or can the sight that is most sharp and keen Endure their captain's flaming head to see? How much less those, much higher in degree, And so much fairer, and much more than these, As these are fairer than the land and seas? For far above these heavens, which here we see, Be others far exceeding these in light, Not bounded, not corrupt, as these same be, But infinite in largeness and in height, Unmoving, uncorrupt, and spotless bright, That need no sun t' illuminate their spheres, But their own native light far passing theirs. And as these heavens still by degrees arise, Until they come to their first Mover's bound, That in his mighty compass doth comprise, And carry all the rest with him around; So those likewise do by degrees redound, And rise more fair; till they at last arrive To the most fair, whereto they all do strive. Fair is the heaven where happy souls have place, In full enjoyment of felicity, Whence they do still behold the glorious face Of the divine eternal Majesty; More fair is that, where those Ideas on high Enranged be, which Plato so admired, And pure Intelligences from God inspired. Yet fairer is that heaven, in which do reign The sovereign Powers and mighty Potentates, Which in their high protections do contain All mortal princes and imperial states; And fairer yet, whereas the royal Seats And heavenly Dominations are set, From whom all earthly governance is fet. Yet far more fair be those bright Cherubins, Which all with golden wings are overdight, And those eternal burning Seraphins, Which from their faces dart out fiery light; Yet fairer than they both, and much more bright, Be th' Angels and Archangels, which attend On God's own person, without rest or end. These thus in fair each other far excelling, As to the highest they approach more near, Yet is that highest far beyond all telling, Fairer than all the rest which there appear, Though all their beauties join'd together were; How then can mortal tongue hope to express The image of such endless perfectness? Cease then, my tongue, and lend unto my mind Leave to bethink how great that beauty is, Whose utmost parts so beautiful I find; How much more those essential parts of his, His truth, his love, his wisdom, and his bliss, His grace, his doom, his mercy, and his might, By which he lends us of himself a sight. Those unto all he daily doth display, And shew himself in th' image of his grace, As in a looking-glass, through which he may Be seen of all his creatures vile and base, That are unable else to see his face, His glorious face which glistereth else so bright, That th' Angels selves cannot endure his sight. But we, frail wights, whose sight cannot sustain The sun's bright beams when he on us doth shine, But that their points rebutted back again Are dull'd, how can we see with feeble eyne The glory of that Majesty Divine, In sight of whom both sun and moon are dark, Compared to his least resplendent spark? The means, therefore, which unto us is lent Him to behold, is on his works to look, Which he hath made in beauty excellent, And in the same, as in a brazen book, To read enregister'd in every nook His goodness, which his beauty doth declare; For all that's good is beautiful and fair. Thence gathering plumes of perfect speculation, To imp the wings of thy high-flying mind, Mount up aloft through heavenly contemplation, From this dark world, whose damps the soul so blind, And, like the native brood of eagles' kind, On that bright Sun of Glory fix thine eyes, Clear'd from gross mists of frail infirmities. Humbled with fear and awful reverence, Before the footstool of his majesty Throw thyself down, with trembling innocence, Ne dare look up with corruptible eye On the dread face of that great Deity, For fear, lest if he chance to look on thee, Thou turn to nought, and quite confounded be. But lowly fall before his mercy seat, Close covered with the Lamb's integrity From the just wrath of his avengeful threat That sits upon the righteous throne on high; His throne is built upon eternity, More firm and durable than steel or brass, Or the hard diamond, which them both doth pass. His sceptre is the rod of righteousness, With which he bruiseth all his foes to dust, And the great Dragon strongly doth repress, Under the rigour of his judgement just; His seat is truth, to which the faithful trust, From whence proceed her beams so pure and bright That all about him sheddeth glorious light: Light far exceeding that bright blazing spark Which darted is from Titan's flaming head, That with his beams enlumineth the dark And dampish air, whereby all things are read; Whose nature yet so much is marvelled Of mortal wits, that it doth much amaze The greatest wizards which thereon do gaze. But that immortal light, which there doth shine, Is many thousand times more bright, more clear, More excellent, more glorious, more divine, Through which to God all mortal actions here, And even the thoughts of men, do plain appear; For from th' eternal truth it doth proceed, Through heavenly virtue which her beams do breed. With the great glory of that wondrous light His throne is all encompassed around, And hid in his own brightness from the sight Of all that look thereon with eyes unsound; And underneath his feet are to be found Thunder and lightning and tempestuous fire, The instruments of his avenging ire. There in his bosom Sapience doth sit, The sovereign darling of the Deity, Clad like a queen in royal robes, most fit For so great power and peerless majesty, And all with gems and jewels gorgeously Adorn'd, that brighter than the stars appear, And make her native brightness seem more clear. And on her head a crown of purest gold Is set, in sign of highest sovereignty; And in her hand a sceptre she doth hold, With which she rules the house of God on high, And manageth the ever-moving sky, And in the same these lower creatures all Subjected to her power imperial. Both heaven and earth obey unto her will, And all the creatures which they both contain; For of her fullness which the world doth fill They all partake, and do in state remain As their great Maker did at first ordain, Through observation of her high behest, By which they first were made, and still increast. The fairness of her face no tongue can tell; For she the daughters of all women's race, And angels eke, in beauty doth excel, Sparkled on her from God's own glorious face, And more increas'd by her own goodly grace, That it doth far exceed all human thought, Ne can on earth compared be to aught. Ne could that painter (had he lived yet) Which pictured Venus with so curious quill, That all posterity admired it, Have portray'd this, for all his mast'ring skill; Ne she herself, had she remained still, And were as fair as fabling wits do feign, Could once come near this beauty sovereign. But had those wits, the wonders of their days, Or that sweet Teian poet, which did spend His plenteous vein in setting forth her praise, Seen but a glimpse of this which I pretend, How wondrously would he her face commend, Above that idol of his feigning thought, That all the world should with his rhymes be fraught. How then dare I, the novice of his art, Presume to picture so divine a wight, Or hope t' express her least perfection's part, Whose beauty fills the heavens with her light, And darks the earth with shadow of her sight? Ah, gentle Muse, thou art too weak and faint The portrait of so heavenly hue to paint. Let angels, which her goodly face behold And see at will, her sovereign praises sing, And those most sacred mysteries unfold Of that fair love of mighty heaven's King; Enough is me t' admire so heavenly thing, And being thus with her huge love possest, In th' only wonder of herself to rest. But whoso may, thrice happy man him hold, Of all on earth whom God so much doth grace And lets his own beloved to behold; For in the view of her celestial face All joy, all bliss, all happiness, have place; Ne aught on earth can want unto the wight Who of herself can win the wishful sight. For she, out of her secret treasury, Plenty of riches forth on him will pour, Even heavenly riches, which there hidden lie Within the closet of her chastest bower, Th' eternal portion of her precious dower, Which mighty God hath given to her free, And to all those which thereof worthy be. None thereof worthy be, but those whom she Vouchsafeth to her presence to receive, And letteth them her lovely face to see, Whereof such wondrous pleasures they conceive, And sweet contentment, that it doth bereave Their soul of sense, through infinite delight, And them transport from flesh into the spright. In which they see such admirable things, As carries them into an ecstasy, And hear such heavenly notes, and carollings Of God's high praise, that fills the brazen sky; And feel such joy and pleasure inwardly, That maketh them all worldly cares forget, And only think on that before them set. Ne from thenceforth doth any fleshly sense, Or idle thought of earthly things, remain; But all that erst seem'd sweet seems now offence, And all that pleased erst now seems to pain; Their joy, their comfort, their desire, their gain, Is fixed all on that which now they see; All other sights but feigned shadows be. And that fair lamp, which useth to inflame The hearts of men with self-consuming fire Thenceforth seems foul, and full of sinful blame; And all that pomp to which proud minds aspire By name of honour, and so much desire, Seems to them baseness, and all riches dross, And all mirth sadness, and all lucre loss. So full their eyes are of that glorious sight, And senses fraught with such satiety, That in nought else on earth they can delight, But in th' aspect of that felicity, Which they have written in their inward eye; On which they feed, and in their fastened mind All happy joy and full contentment find. Ah, then, my hungry soul, which long hast fed On idle fancies of thy foolish thought, And, with false beauty's flatt'ring bait misled, Hast after vain deceitful shadows sought, Which all are fled, and now have left thee nought But late repentance through thy follies prief; Ah cease to gaze on matter of thy grief: And look at last up to that sovereign light, From whose pure beams all perfect beauty springs, That kindleth love in every godly sprite, Even the love of God, which loathing brings Of this vile world and these gay-seeming things; With whose sweet pleasures being so possest, Thy straying thoughts henceforth for ever rest. |
Edmund Spenser |
333 | 2018-02-27 03:57:35 | Sonnet Iv: Bright Star Of Beauty poem | Bright star of beauty, on whose eyelids sit A thousand nymph-like and enamour'd Graces, The Goddesses of Memory and Wit, Which there in order take their several places; In whose dear bosom sweet delicious Love Lays down his quiver, which he once did bear, Since he that blessed Paradise did prove, And leaves his mother's lap to sport him there. Let others strive to entertain with words; My soul is of a braver metal made; I hold that vile which vulgar wit affords; In me's that faith which Time cannot invade. Let what I praise be still made good by you; Be you most worthy, whilst I am most true. |
Michael Drayton |
334 | 2018-02-27 03:57:39 | Beauty poem | 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 |
335 | 2018-02-27 03:57:42 | God Scatters Beauty poem | God scatters beauty as he scatters flowers O'er the wide earth, and tells us all are ours. A hundred lights in every temple burn, And at each shrine I bend my knee in turn. | Walter Savage Landor |
336 | 2018-02-27 03:57:47 | The Song Of Princess Zeb-Un-Nissa In Pra.. poem | WHEN from my cheek I lift my veil, The roses turn with envy pale, And from their pierced hearts, rich with pain, Send forth their fragrance like a wail. Or if perchance one perfumed tress Be lowered to the wind's caress, The honeyed hyacinths complain, And languish in a sweet distress. And, when I pause, still groves among, (Such loveliness is mine) a throng Of nightingales awake and strain Their souls into a quivering song. |
Sarojini Naidu |
337 | 2018-02-27 03:57:52 | A Sonnet To Heavenly Beauty poem | If this our little life is but a day In the Eternal, - if the years in vain Toil after hours that never come again, - If everything that hath been must decay, Why dreamest thou of joys that pass away, My soul, that my sad body doth restrain? Why of the moment’s pleasure art thou fain? Nay, thou hast wings, - nay, seek another stay. There is the joy whereto each soul aspires, And there the rest that all the world desires, And there is love, and peace, and gracious mirth; And there in the most highest heavens shalt thou Behold the Very Beauty, whereof now Thou worshippest the shadow upon earth. |
Joachim du Bellay |
338 | 2018-02-27 03:57:55 | The Living Beauty poem | I BADE, because the wick and oil are spentAnd frozen are the channels of the blood,My discontented heart to draw contentFrom beauty that is cast out of a mouldIn bronze, or that in dazzling marble appears,Appears, but when wc have gone is gone again,Being more indifferent to our solitudeThan 'twere an apparition. O heart, we are old;The living beauty is for younger men:We cannot pay its rribute of wild tears. |
William Butler Yeats |
339 | 2018-02-27 03:58:00 | Bad Day At The Beauty Salon poem | I was a 20 year old unemployed receptionist with dyed orange dreadlocks sprouting out of my skull. I needed a job, but first, I needed a haircut.So I head for this beauty salon on Avenue B.I'm gonna get a hairdo.I'm gonna look just like those hot Spanish haircut models, become brown and bodacious, grow some 7 inch fingernails painted bitch red and rake them down the chalkboard of the job market's soul.So I go in the beauty salon.This beautiful Puerto Rican girl in tight white spandex and a push-up bra sits me down and starts chopping my hair:"Girlfriend," she says, "what the hell you got growing outta your head there, what is that, hair implants? Yuck, you want me to touch that shit, whadya got in there, sandwiches?"I just go: "I'm sorry."She starts snipping my carefully cultivated Johnny Lydon post-Pistols hairdo. My foul little dreadlocks are flying around all over the place but I'm not looking in the mirror cause I just don't want to know."So what's your name anyway?" My stylist demands then."Uh, Maggie.""Maggie? Well, that's an okay name, but my name is Suzy.""Yeah, so?""Yeah so it ain't just Suzy S.U.Z.Y, I spell it S.U.Z.E.E, the extra "e" is for extra Suzee."I nod emphatically.Suzee tells me when she's not busy chopping hair, she works as an exotic dancer at night to support her boyfriend named Rocco. Suzee loves Rocco, she loves him so much she's got her eyes closed as she describes him:"6 foot 2, 193 pounds and, girlfriend, his arms so big and long they wrap around me twice like I'm a little Suzee sandwich."Little Suzee Sandwich is rapt, she blindly snips and clips at my poor punk head. She snips and clips and snips and clips, she pauses, I look in the mirror: "Holy shit, I'm bald.""Holy shit, baby, you're bald." Suzee says, finally opening her eyes and then gasping. All I've got left is little post-nuke clumps of orange fuzz. And I'll never get a receptionist job now.But Suzy waves her manicured finger in my face: "Don't you worry, baby, I'm gonna get you a job at the dancing club.""What?"" ;Baby, let me tell you, the boys are gonna like a bald go go dancer."That said, she whips out some clippers, shaves my head smooth and insists I'm gonna love getting naked for a living.None of this sounds like my idea of a good time, but I'm broke and I'm bald so I go home and get my best panties. Suzee lends me some 6 inch pumps, paints my lips bright red, and gives me 7 shots of Jack Daniels to relax me. 8pm that night I take the stage.I'm bald, I'm drunk,and by god,I'm naked.HOLY SHIT I'M NAKED IN A ROOM FULL OF STRANGERS THIS IS NOT ONE OF THOSE RECURRING NIGHTMARES WE ALL HAVE ABOUT BEING BUTT NAKED IN PUBLIC, I AM NAKED, I DON'T KNOW THESE PEOPLE, THIS REALLY SUCKS.A few guys feel sorry for me and risk getting their hands bitten off by sticking dollars in my garter belt. My disheveled pubic hairs stand at full attention, ready to poke the guys' eyes out if they get too close.Then I notice this bald guy in the audience, I've got a new empathy for bald people, I figure maybe it works both ways, maybe this guy will stick 10 bucks in my garter.I saunter over.I'm teetering around unrhythmically, I'm the surliest, unsexiest dancer that ever go-go across this hemisphere. The bald guy looks down into his beer, he'd much rather look at that than at my pubic mound which has now formed into one vicious spike so it looks like I've got a unicorn in my crotch.I stand there weaving through the air.The strobe light is illuminating my pubic unicorn. Madonna's song Borderline is pumping through the club's speaker system for the 5th time tonight: "BORDERLINE BORDERLINE BORDERLINE/LOVE ME TIL I JUST CAN'T SEE." And suddenly, I start to wonder: What does that mean anyway? "LOVE ME TIL I JUST CAN'T SEE"What?Screw me so much my eyes pop out, I go blind, end up walking down 2nd Avenue crazy, horny, naked and blind? What?There's a glitch in the tape and it starts to skip."Borderl...ooop.....Borderl.... ooop...Borderlin.....ooop"I stumble and twist my ankle. My g-string rides between my buttcheeks making me twitch with pain. My head starts spinning, my knees wobble, I go down on all fours and puke all over the bald guy's lap.So there I am. Butt naked on all fours. But before I have time to regain my composure, the strip club manager comes over, points his smarmy strip club manager finger at me and goes: "You're bald, you're drunk, you can't dance and you're fired."I stand up."Oh yeah, well you stink like a sneaker, pal." I peel off one of my pumps and throw it in the direction of his fat head then I get the hell out of there.A few days later I run into Suzee on Avenue A. Turns out she got fired for getting me a job there in the first place. But she was completely undaunted, she dragged me up to this wig store on 14th Street, bought me a mouse brown shag wig, then got us both telemarketing jobs on Wall Street.And I never went to a beauty salon again. |
Maggie Estep |
340 | 2018-02-27 03:58:03 | A Philosophy Of Beauty poem | These evil days require you to grit your teeth in misery to survive, But you have to realize life is moreThan staying alive: You have to create magical kindness in the heart, Follow the skyscraper skylineWhile in ecstasy pursuing art; But still, I grow weary of cops kicking the homelessDown heartless streets, I’ll have to go out west and live in the sand, Dance at dusk upon the beach, Later, on midnight dunes I’ll sleep.Living out your Divinity involves a philosophy of beautyAnd refusing to hurt anyone. |
Uriah Hamilton |
341 | 2018-02-27 03:58:07 | Beauty poem | Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder Beauty is in all things. Beauty is in the sky. Beauty is in the water ever so blue. Beauty is the winter when trees are covered with snow. Beauty is the summer when you smell and see the flowers grow. Beauty is all things big and little. Beauty is in all things, Black and white. Beauty is in all things, you and me. Beauty is all around us...can't you see? |
Edwina Matthews |
342 | 2018-02-27 03:58:13 | For Beauty I Am Not A Star poem | For beauty I am not a star, There are others more perfect by far, But my face I don't mind it, For I am behind it, It is those in front that I jar. | Woodrow Wilson |
343 | 2018-02-27 03:58:18 | Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young.. poem | Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms,Live fairy-gifts fading away,Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,Let thy loveliness fade as it will,And around the dear ruin each wish of my heartWould entwine itself verdantly still.It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear,That the fervor and faith of a soul may be known,To which time will but make thee more dear!No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,But as truly loves on to the close,As the sunflower turns on her god when he setsThe same look which she turned when he rose! |
Thomas Moore |
344 | 2018-02-27 03:58:21 | You Don'T Believe poem | You don't believe -- I won't attempt to make ye:You are asleep -- I won't attempt to wake ye.Sleep on! sleep on! while in your pleasant dreamsOf Reason you may drink of Life's clear streams.Reason and Newton, they are quite two things;For so the swallow and the sparrow sings.Reason says `Miracle': Newton says `Doubt.'Aye! that's the way to make all Nature out.`Doubt, doubt, and don't believe without experiment':That is the very thing that Jesus meant,When He said `Only believe! believe and try!Try, try, and never mind the reason why!' |
William Blake |
345 | 2018-02-27 03:58:25 | Sonnet 17: Who Will Believe My Verse In .. poem | Who will believe my verse in time to comeIf it were filled with your most high deserts?Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tombWhich hides your life, and shows not half your parts:If I could write the beauty of your eyes,And in fresh numbers number all your graces,The age to come would say, "This poet lies,Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces."So should my papers, yellowed with their age,Be scorned like old men of less truth than tongue,And your true rights be termed a poet's rage,And stretchèd metre of an antique song. But were some child of yours alive that time, You should live twice, in it and in my rhyme. |
William Shakespeare |
346 | 2018-02-27 03:58:31 | I Believe poem | When I wake up every morn, Its with the awe of jus being alive and being with you, To reach out for that specialness, Which the almighty has bestowed upon me, And rouse those around me to the potential of each new morn.I am not afraid to admit, That often, I am less than perfect.Life is nothing but trial and error, I believe in my heartAnd my powers, That something great is about to happen.This keeps the sun - all time shining, and the Rainbows that we built together.With every breath that I take, Mystery lies deep within.Your voice resonating, Like seagulls on the shore.Your wavy essence washes over me, Flooding me with emotions.Tosses me into that special place-I long to be.You are the diamonds of my night sky, You are the sparkling crystals of grainy dust, in the desert of my solitude.Your serene face draws me to tranquility, That’s where I long to belong for eternity.Yes I believe in miracles, All my avenues and possibilities are open., And look with hope to the horizon of today, For Today is truly all that I really have.For the morrow I cannot say.26-07-2008 |
ANJALI SINHA |
347 | 2018-02-27 03:58:37 | Do Not Believe poem | Do not believe, my dearest, when I say That I no longer love you. When the tide ebbs do not believe the sea - It will return anew. Already I long for you, and passion fills me, I yield my freedom thus to you once more.Already the waves return with shouts and glee To fill again that same belovèd shore. | Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy |
348 | 2018-02-27 03:58:39 | I Believe poem | I believe I shall succeedI believe I shall be an inspirationI believe my troubles are temporaryI believe I shall be richI believe I shall swell wideI believe I shall take on the worldI believe I shall speak of wealthI believe I shall carry sufferers alongI believe I shall show how I made it from nothingI believe in God I believe that he is taking me somewhereI believe that the darkness of today gives wayI believe, I believe, I believe. |
samuel nze |
349 | 2018-02-27 03:58:45 | I Believe poem | I believe in friendshipAnd love at first sightI believe in happinessFor which we should fightI believe in tic-tacsAnd rock and rollI believe in magicAnd achieving any goalI believe in true loveAnd the right to breathe But above all thingsI believe in you and me | Jessica Nychkalo |
350 | 2018-02-27 03:58:50 | I Can'T Believe Them poem | did they really think they could just take it all awaywith just one worddid they think I would not fightdo they really think I gave a shit what they thought? can they really be that stupiddo they really want me to be unhappy for the rest of my life? cause that is what would happen if I listen to themI can't believe it I’ve suffered for 4 yearsI now found happiness do they think I wouldn't fight to keep ithow could they think that? are they really that blind do they not see I’m happier than I’ve ever beentruth is I’ve never been happy until nowand I don't want to lose itespecial because they don't like the way I found itcan't they just be happy? can't they just let me be happy? apparently notsome familythey don't want me happy they fucking want me trappedtrapped in the darknesstrapped with them trapped is a state of numbness |
Scarlet ..... |
351 | 2018-02-27 03:58:54 | Believe Me poem | Believe Me - God gave us the wisdom to know Believe Me - His wisdom is far greater than gold Believe Me - Our Creator knew us before we were born Believe Me - By grace we are linked to divinity Believe Me - His divine beings are there for you and me Believe Me - There is one Creator in the universe Believe Me - He is Father of the human race Believe Me - When the world proclaims and honors his name Believe Me - The world will be rich with compassion and fame Believe Me - When our relationship with God is A-1 Believe Me - God told us I take care of my own Believe Me - I know that I know that I know Believe Me - Believe me - Believe me |
Grace Galasso St. Dawn, |
352 | 2018-02-27 03:59:00 | Can You Make Me Believe? poem | Show me that you love meBut do not speak a wordShow me that you long for meWithout a sound being heardLet your eyes seduce meEntice me with your stareLovingly caress meLet you hands show you careShow me that you love me Let your body language talkAnyone can speak the wordsBut can you walk the walk? Let your passion connect meTo the love your offering tonightShare your true intentionsBaby, let’s do this rightShow me that you love meWear your heart upon your sleeveSilent without wordsCan you make me believe? |
Wendy Bureau |
353 | 2018-02-27 03:59:06 | *heart, Believe Me poem | Heart, believe me.That was just a night...How fool it is for my mindto linger his words this way; to trace every curve of his lipsand to flip a shadow of his pretty hair.Oh, how fool it is for my mindto think of him this way.Heart, believe me.That was just a night; and I became a fool forever. | Jessel Jane Tevar Toring |
354 | 2018-02-27 03:59:13 | I Believe In Miracles poem | I believe in rainbows and golden sunbeams i believe in hopes and dreams i believe in that old fable always told of old That at the rainbows end there's a pot of gold i believe there's some place beyond the blue Where the promise of Love and Peace is forever true i believe in me and you i believe in miracles, for i have known a few i believe in me and you i believe in miracles, for i have known a few i believe in me and you |
Billie Jeanne James |
355 | 2018-02-27 03:59:16 | I Want – I Wish To Believe poem | I want – I wish to believeThe old tale’s – the ballad’s words, How the sunny knight cuts The monsters nine heads off…Just at one stroke of his sword! | Tsira Gogeshvili |
356 | 2018-02-27 03:59:21 | A Reason To Believe poem | Everyone needs a reason to believe. To believe in God, their family and friends, their wife and their life. Without having a reason, life could never carry on, but having a reason to believe means anything you want, you can go out and achieve.(7 October 2007) | David Harris |
357 | 2018-02-27 03:59:27 | 'I Believe In America' poem | I Believe In America…., we’re a nation of hopes and dreams….., Sweet freedom will fill our needs…., I Believe In America.I Believe In America…., I believe we must fight for peace…., My faith in us will never cease…., I Believe In America.With His strength from up above…, We’ll prevail on our massive quest…, Our nation breathes kindness and love….., We’ll lead our world to happiness.I Believe In America…, we are united in democracy…., Defeating evil and hypocrisy…., I Believe In America.Our Lord is watching every move we make….., I know He’ll help us do our best…., Guiding us with every step we take…., Because our lives are truly blessed.I Believe In America…., we’re a nation of hopes and dreams….., Sweet freedom will fill our needs…., I Believe In America. Yes, I Believe In America. |
Trade Martin |
358 | 2018-02-27 03:59:33 | Do You Believe In God? poem | I'm down on my knees thanking YouMy palms and my eyes facing the skyYou proved to me once againYou were right here with meListening to my prayers.You have sent me signs beforeSome call them internal signsLittle do they know of Your existenceWhen others state that You have diedYou are proving to me, coincidence after coincidence, that You are listening.That You will have the whole universe conspire on my behalf to satisfy, not just a caprice, but to only get what I've earnedby investing my soul for months.I know what to do with this now.Enlightenment and health is all I'm askingNot wealth or beauty or careerEnlightenment to make wise choices in life.When all else fails, I treasure Your gifts: my three angelsand You in my heart. |
CeCe Lamberts |
359 | 2018-02-27 03:59:38 | I Believe poem | I believe in miracles. and dreams that will come true. I believe in tender moments. I believe in reaching out, and touching from the heart. I believe that if we touch, a gift we can pass on. I believe that if you cry your tears are not in vain.when you're sad and lonely, others know your pain. I believe that when we laugh a sparkle starts to shine, and I just know that spark will spread from more hearts than just mine.I believe the gifts you have, are there for you to share. and when you give from the heart, the whole world knows you care. I believe that comfort comes from giving part of me. and if I share with others, there's more for all to see. I believe that love is still the greatest gift of all. and when it's given from the heart, then not one of us will fall. |
Pam Fraser |
360 | 2018-02-27 03:59:42 | Believe... poem | I believeI believe in a lotI believe in music I believe in writingI believe in listingI believe in mankindI believe in workI believe in loveI believe in laughingI believe in paradiseI believe in safetyI believe in lightI believe in entertainmentI believe in historyI believe in timeI believe in survivalI believe in changeI believe in luckWhat do you believe in? To tell the truth...None of us is promised tomorrowLive your life as if the last.Believe |
Steven Piz. |
361 | 2018-02-27 03:59:48 | Believe Me, It's Hard To Let Go... poem | I've fallen in love very deeply with someonei guess it just didn't show'cause he told me he doesn't believe my lovebut believe me, it's hard to let go...I've prayed for him each night before sleepingbut i've never let him knowi'm trying very hard to get over himbut believe me, it's hard to let go...I've shared my joys, i've shared my sorrowsand best friends we have been thoughwith each passing day my pain has increasedbut believe me, it's hard to let go...I've even thought of saying goodbyethough out of it he made me growand with time going by, i'm dependant i feelbut believe me, it's hard to let go...I've now got control of my lifestill the tears in my eyes continue to flowi don't know how to live my life wiothout himbut believe me, it's hard to let go... |
Nitya Pillai |
362 | 2018-02-27 03:59:52 | I Believe In You poem | I believe in your rising and fallingI believe in your smiles and tearsi believe in your joys and painsi believe in your seed and namei believe in your sunrise and sunseti believe in your clouds and raindropsi believe in your moon and galaxy of starsi believe in you struggles and hopesi believe in your desires and angelsi believe in your soili believe in your futurei believe in your generation 'cos i believe in you |
Namie Elisha |
363 | 2018-02-27 03:59:55 | Do You Believe In Love? poem | Do you believe in you and meDo you believe we'll live happily ForeverTogetherDo you believe in loveThat will always stand aboveAlmost anythingAnd everythingDo you believe in love | Debbie Fadoju |
364 | 2018-02-27 03:59:58 | I Can'T Believe That You'Re Single poem | I can't believe that you're singleYour personality blooms like a flowerAnd your face is so beautiful That you cause mirrors to grow legsJust so that they can be a reflection of you | Theorem The Truth Serum |
365 | 2018-02-27 04:00:02 | Will You Believe Me If I Speak Of Love? poem | If I speak of love, it is because love speaks To me, like we are having this conversation About love itself, and I ask love that if I speak Of love, will love believe me? And love sighed, and finds this question Too self-serving for itself, for love could Be biased too, telling me that if I speak Of her, she will believe me, oh, that would Be too unnecessary of love, to speak about itself, For love to believe in love from love itself Who is asking about love, About me and telling me, she will believe me, In fact, this would be too confusing, too confusing, But I speak of her today, and I speak of myself Too, believing about this love of mine, And so confused we see each other eye to eye, The eye of love to my eye of true love, Talking heart to a true heart, The heart of love talking to the heart of true love, and finally, though confused, and still taking breaths, love, she finally, Said, yes, love believes me, love believes my love, love speaks of love, love believes in love, In my love, and there is no other. Love begets love. That is what human history had always told to itself. |
RIC S. BASTASA |
366 | 2018-02-27 04:00:06 | Just Believe poem | In our todays yesterday looms large The present isn’t the past; In other words, the past is still omnipresentSteering sometimes unskillfully like a bargeSometimes disaster loomsUnannounced, uncalled for; A wreck that lies on a shore.The saddest of songs and the most ancient of wrongsCan bring on the tears; We are all equal before our fears.Today has the faint tinge of bitternessTomorrow will come, with the steepest of slopesTo climb, to pause, to thinkThat you can stumble on the brink: Just believe that in life, something is takenSomething is givenAll is forgiven: tomorrow will comeThat the gift of words that you haveWill remain articulate: you will inspireLike the tallest of spiresYour words will remain in many heartsJust believe, you are not forgottenNot by man or deity or life begottenWords of consequence and comfortAnd love and life will come back again. |
Rani Turton |
367 | 2018-02-27 04:00:10 | I Believe poem | I believe in Almighty God Miracles and saints Good overcoming evil. I believe in love Divine truth, everlasting light The Devil and fires of Hell I believe in a childhood dream Free, innocent, uncomplicated And Jesus saying we shall never die. | Colin Ian Jeffery |
368 | 2018-02-27 04:00:14 | Make-Believe World poem | She is BeyondGood and Evil nowliving in a worldof fantasywhere she cannot seewhat reality is telling herIn her make-believe worldthere are only her fundamentalist churchher literal Biblical beliefand her saintly selffigting in victoryagainst everybody elsebecause they refuse to give up the demons only she can see | Margaret Alice |
369 | 2018-02-27 04:00:20 | Believe Your Hesitations poem | Believe your hesitationsDon’t hesitate over your beliefsYou will find your wayThe way of Lord whom you pray(2008/1/23) | Per. Nig. |
370 | 2018-02-27 04:00:24 | I Believe poem | All night all day I have been thinking this wayThen I hear my thoughts in your lyrics todayFaith we have when two hearts can perceiveIn love like this, how can we not believe | Tia Maria |
371 | 2018-02-27 04:00:32 | Make Believe poem | Life is full of make believe, dreams of earnest topping fame. Gilded Lilies spring up everywhere as if in some dark nightmare. We look with weary eyes at temples we want to climb. The shrines we want to spell out our name, but with heavy sighs, we heave, knowing our dreams are but make believe.Each hill we climb brings us closer, to our vacant dreams departed. Still we strive towards them, hoping one day to catch a glimpse, of what our heart wants most, the dreams that will not fade, in the hollow halls, of the land of make believe. |
David Harris |
372 | 2018-02-27 04:00:35 | You May Believe poem | Four elements, fire, earth, air and water, Each on the calendar takes a quarter.Fire and water together do not mix, Fire always needs air, for that is its fix.Earth, air and water that is a trio.In what section would we find our Leo.Horoscopes are some peoples obsession, All the forecasts would give one depression.You may believe them or you may not, But quite frankly, I do not care a jot.I’m an Aries and I’m a fiery one.A Ram, well Ewe, when all is said and done.Whatever prediction, for good or ill, Will on a few occasions fit the bill.Astrology will continue to lure, All who feel readings can foretell ‘Amour’.© Ernestine Northover |
Ernestine Northover |
373 | 2018-02-27 04:00:41 | Just Believe It poem | I stand just inches away from you buti feel like i am half way around the world from youand i can't get any closer to you@ that moment i run my hand through your hairIn life i've battled through obstacles and huurlsbut i dont care i will tell you til my face is bluei'll fight anything for you, i'm sorry i thought you kneweven if the pain is too much to barei've been with a lot of gurlsbut none of them compare to youif you ever doubt how much i love youlet me tell you this i wont promise i will love you for the rest of your life but i can love you for the rest of mine & i can promise i will try to make you happy to the best of my abilitiesAngellica, i love you more than life itself. believe me i'll love you until time stands still. just believe it.j.v.boyd |
jeffrey boyd |
374 | 2018-02-27 04:00:43 | I Can'T Believe poem | I Can't Believe 'I can't believe'I can't believe, I can't believethis is so not happen to meeverything in my world is darkand never grayi could ask for helpbut we all knowhelp never finds its wayonly power and moneycan do as they pleaseso i ask why is thisso happen to mewill the greedyand the badsome day go to hellor will the evil onesfind a way to paytheir way out ofgoing to sinners jailI can't believe~ |
Verlecia fields |
375 | 2018-02-27 04:00:48 | Let Me In You Believe poem | Come lay down close beside me nowAnd let me share your fearsLet us find comfort in the closenessOf simply being near.Come lay down close beside me nowAnd let me feel you breatheLet me feel the life within youAnd let me in you believe. | David Keig |
376 | 2018-02-27 04:00:51 | Believe Me.. Love You.... poem | do you believe that, you became every thing in my life..do you believe that, i care about you and missed you every moment..do you believe that, i need and want to be near to you every night..do you believe that, i love every one who is like you in face and a voice and a smile...do you believe that, i suffer so much in your leaving and never to take a breathe well...do you believe that, i afraid from my eyes to show up me that i love you...do you believe that, i become jealous from any air goes around your neck...do you believe that, i loved you and never loved one as you..believe me that, i love you... |
hazem al jaber |
377 | 2018-02-27 04:00:54 | Believe In Humanity poem | You can danceLike a drunkIn the summer night, Laugh with strangersIn the moonlight, Gaze at girlsThat walk in the red light, Say prayers at hillside shrinesTo Shinto DeitiesThat your parentsNever knew.Everything is a combinationOf misery and poetry.You have to swimIn a lake of sufferingTo reach the shoreOf self-knowledgeAbout the reasonYou’re living for.I’m living to singA tender song at dawnThat will break God’s heart: I want to make himLinger here in tearsUntil he helps us alongThis sad journeyThat we’re traveling upon.I believe in DivinityAnd I need for DivinityTo believe in humanity. |
Uriah Hamilton |
378 | 2018-02-27 04:01:00 | I Believe poem | Lord give me faith and hope cuz Im in needand my bodies waiting oh so patientlycuz I believe in you indeedIs there someone imitating mebring her back because I'm jealous pleasecuz I believe in you indeedsearching deep down trying to find and seesee the life that's right in front of mecuz I believe in you indeedfind that person that I want to befind her deep down way inside of mecuz I believe in you indeeddoesn't take a miracle you'll seethere's that sweet person inside of me just waitingcuz I believe in you indeedwho's the person that I claim to bea mere glimpse of the past of mecuz I believe in you indeed |
Stay out of my life |
379 | 2018-02-27 04:01:06 | Another Truth (Don'T Read This If You Do.. poem | If you believe in GodGod must have made us allOut of whatever God isUnless God borrowed something smallFrom some other God, perhaps a friend of hisOr, he may have had a brother or a sister or twoThough this is unlikely and probably not trueBecause it would mean, that he was in that caseJust one of two or three Gods out there in spaceRaising the question of who was there firstWhere did the others come from? Perhaps near Chislelhurst? And then one could ask, where did the others go? But that's a very difficult question to answer, you knowWhich means in the end you surely must perceiveIf you believe in one GodHe is in you and meFor whatever God isYou is a part(Actually, ... I think, ....he lives in your heart) |
Egal Bohen |
380 | 2018-02-27 04:01:08 | I Believe It Now poem | I never believed in magic...until u came into my life; then all have been magical in my eyes.I never believed that dreams come true; till u made them real for me..then all I see with you is just reality.I never believed that love could move mountains...till u moved one for me; and then i knew that love could set me free.And i never believed that one could die of a broken heart.I believe it now- when you left me...when you left me helplessly.: -( |
Jessel Jane Tevar Toring |
381 | 2018-02-27 04:01:11 | I Believe poem | I believe in one who sets me freeI believe in one who heals meI believe in one who comforts meI believe in one who gives me joyI believe in one who softens my heartI believe in one who gives me everythingI believe in one who leads meI believe in one who speaks to meI believe in one who gives me lifeI believe in one who shows me mercyI believe in one who prays for meI believe in one who is wonderfulI believe in one who died for me Now who do you believe in? |
amikkwe Garrison |
382 | 2018-02-27 04:01:17 | If Only She Believe, I Love Her. poem | music blasted in the air.birds are flyin every where.can you feel the love tonight or is it just in my sight? she loves me..ohh.. yes she does..can the moon not be brighter to match that smile on her face.could the sun dim just a bit so i can look up and look back at her and say damn your hot.she is my world.nothing can compare to how im feeling.this is just the way i wanna tell her.i love her.if only she knew.i would write my heart out to her.i would sing her a song.i would tell her stories.i would look her in the eyes and say, babe i love you.if only she believe the words coming out of my mouth.she would know, im lost in her eyes, i wont find my way out.im lost in her world, i gotta stay somehow.i love her.if only she knew.if only she believed.i love her. |
Dislocated Heart |
383 | 2018-02-27 04:01:23 | I Believe In Yesterdays poem | I believe in yesterdays with fine tunesWhere new spring came through in fineness's touchWhere love song were sung 'I love you so much'And feelings meant all in its afternoonsSweet summer come back with those pretty thingsThat filled my longings in its stillness timeWith inspirational blossoms in their primeAnd still to my heart for always here singsRain is now outside and dripping all wetFilling my emotions with a sullen skyThat never seems ending - day after dayWhere are the red flowers my heart once met? Give me back the dreams of blue darling's skyThose only are memories - still far away |
Peter S. Quinn |
384 | 2018-02-27 04:01:28 | Believe And Succeed poem | If you believe in what you do you will succeed in it come today or tomorrow. Success is always something everyone else seems to have, but if you believe in yourself then you will succeed. Whether it be money or friends or whatever you want. To succeed you must first believe.31 January 2008 | David Harris |
385 | 2018-02-27 04:01:35 | Little World Of Make Believe poem | Sometimes I live in my own little world of make believe. Where the character in my stories do the things, I wish I could. They live out my fantasies some good some bad. I am every character come what may. They take me away from the real world that we live in. Into the land of my dreams into my own little world of make believe.28 May 2008 | David Harris |
386 | 2018-02-27 04:01:38 | Must We Believe In God? poem | They ate from the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden, but God forgot to plant the Tree of Wisdom, and we have been struggling ever since. | Fred Babbin |
387 | 2018-02-27 04:01:42 | I Believe In Fairies Too For M Lady Er.. poem | Sometimes at night across the sky.I see the silver dragons fly. Although not everyone can see the dragons dancing gracefully.My friends think I have lost the plot but I assure them I have not.I don’t know why they cannot see what is so very clear to me.Perhaps I have an open mind and they do not, so they are blind.Moonlight reflecting on their scales.This is a sight that never failsto make me stop and realise.Some cannot see though they have eyes.They don’t believe the evidence of their own eyes. It makes no sense.Because they can’t believe it’s true and won’t adjust their point of view. But I believe and I can see the dragons flying easily.When twilight falls if you just try, you too will see them flyUnless you too, have closed your mind and don’t believe in dragon kind.2-Jul-08http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers |
ivor or ivor.e hogg |
388 | 2018-02-27 04:01:48 | 'I Now Understand But Still I Can'T Beli.. poem | I now understand but still I can't believe, the things I hear or seeI jus don't know what to do, the things I hear and seemy eyes still won't let my heart believe, I've opened up but I now I think I should close her down, she can't go threw anymore pain...I now understand but still I can't believe, that everything I've been threwand u really don't care about meI jus don't know why are u here if ur not here for me, maybe its jus to toy with me heart and see how much it bleedsI've been throw to much to jus let u run all over my heart like that....I now understand but still can't believe, why no how could u do this to meI've given u my all and this is how u say thanksby crushing my heart and soul, by leaving them to bleed so that some other person can't save them...I now understand but still can't believe, that it was never only me....it was she..her but never we........ |
Miizz. Beautiiful |
389 | 2018-02-27 04:01:51 | I Don'T Believe It poem | I don't believe it, But it's true.Seems like a bad dream, But it's real.A child's body burnt.A spouse's limbsScattered all over.People jumping out of windows.Screams heard becauseOf a great ball of fire.I don't believe it, But it's true.Seems like a bad dream, But it's real. | Jeff Fleischer |
390 | 2018-02-27 04:01:55 | If You Believe poem | If you believe that black is whiteDo you know that you'd never be rightIf you believe that short is longDo you know that you'd always be wrongIf you believe that left is rightYou might give yourself a great big frightIf you believe that front is backYou might give yourself a heart attackIf you believe that in is in fact outYou'd spend all your life living in doubtIf you believe that up is really downYou'd probably wear a puzzled frownIf you believe with all of your heartThat there is only one way you could possibly startThe day, with a lungful of tobacco smokeDo you know you'd be part of a very sad joke? |
Alessandra Liverani |
391 | 2018-02-27 04:02:02 | I Believe That U poem | I don’t know what to do with out you …. ButI believe that you will guide me to finish my work I believe that you will take me back to my home I believe if I hurt you then you will forgive me I believe you will sweet like my sugar candy I don’t know what to do with out you …. ButI believe that u will light my dark nights by ur moon I believe u will relief my thirsty by ur rain I believe u will send me ur sun when I need himI believe u will always flow ur cool wind that I can take breath I don’t know what to do with out you …. ButI believe u will always watching me from ur place I believe u will lift up me when I will fall downI believe u will make me that strong that I can lift up other I believe u help me to let know other that u are with me |
janardan bramhachari |
392 | 2018-02-27 04:02:08 | The Angel That Presided O'Er My Birth poem | The Angel that presided o'er my birthSaid, 'Little creature, form'd of Joy and Mirth,'Go love without the help of any Thing on Earth.' | William Blake |
393 | 2018-02-27 04:02:13 | The Birth Of Love poem | When Love was born of heavenly line, What dire intrigues disturbed Cythera's joy! Till Venus cried, 'A mother's heart is mine; None but myself shall nurse my boy,' But, infant as he was, the child In that divine embrace enchanted lay; And, by the beauty of the vase beguiled, Forgot the beverage--and pined away. 'And must my offspring languish in my sight?' (Alive to all a mother's pain, The Queen of Beauty thus her court addressed) 'No: Let the most discreet of all my train Receive him to her breast: Think all, he is the God of young delight.' Then TENDERNESS with CANDOUR joined, And GAIETY the charming office sought; Nor even DELICACY stayed behind: But none of those fair Graces brought Wherewith to nurse the child--and still he pined. Some fond hearts to COMPLIANCE seemed inclined; But she had surely spoiled the boy: And sad experience forbade a thought On the wild Goddess of VOLUPTUOUS JOY. Long undecided lay th' important choice, Till of the beauteous court, at length, a voice Pronounced the name of HOPE:--The conscious child Stretched forth his little arms, and smiled. 'Tis said ENJOYMENT (who averred The charge belonged to her alone) Jealous that HOPE had been preferred Laid snares to make the babe her own. Of INNOCENCE the garb she took, The blushing mien and downcast look; And came her services to proffer: And HOPE (what has not Hope believed!) By that seducing air deceived, Accepted of the offer. It happened that, to sleep inclined, Deluded HOPE: for one short hour To that false INNOCENCE'S power Her little charge consigned. The Goddess then her lap with sweetmeats filled And gave, in handfuls gave, the treacherous store: A wild delirium first the infant thrilled; But soon upon her breast he sunk--to wake no more. |
William Wordsworth |
394 | 2018-02-27 04:02:20 | Before The Birth Of One Of Her Children poem | All things within this fading world hath end,Adversity doth still our joys attend;No ties so strong, no friends so dear and sweet,But with death's parting blow are sure to meet.The sentence past is most irrevocable,A common thing, yet oh, inevitable.How soon, my Dear, death may my steps attend,How soon't may be thy lot to lose thy friend,We both are ignorant, yet love bids meThese farewell lines to recommend to thee,That when the knot's untied that made us one,I may seem thine, who in effect am none.And if I see not half my days that's due,What nature would, God grant to yours and you;The many faults that well you know I haveLet be interred in my oblivious grave;If any worth or virtue were in me,Let that live freshly in thy memoryAnd when thou feel'st no grief, as I no harmes,Yet love thy dead, who long lay in thine arms,And when thy loss shall be repaid with gainsLook to my little babes, my dear remains.And if thou love thyself, or loved'st me,These O protect from stepdame's injury.And if chance to thine eyes shall bring this verse,With some sad sighs honor my absent hearse;And kiss this paper for thy dear love's sake, Who with salt tears this last farewell did take. |
Anne Bradstreet |
395 | 2018-02-27 04:02:24 | Birth-Dues poem | Joy is a trick in the air; pleasure is merely contemptible, the dangledCarrot the ass follows to market or precipice;But limitary pain -- the rock under the tower and the hewn copingThat takes thunder at the head of the turret-Terrible and real. Therefore a mindless dervish carving himselfWith knives will seem to have conquered the world.The world's God is treacherous and full of unreason; a torturer, but alsoThe only foundation and the only fountain.Who fights him eats his own flesh and perishes of hunger; who hides in the graveTo escape him is dead; who enters the IndianRecession to escape him is dead; who falls in love with the God is washed cleanOf death desired and of death dreaded.He has joy, but Joy is a trick in the air; and pleasure, but pleasure is contemptible;And peace; and is based on solider than pain.He has broken boundaries a little and that will estrange him; he is monstrous, but notTo the measure of the God.... But I having told you--However I suppose that few in the world have energy to hear effectively-Have paid my birth-dues; am quits with the people.Submitted by Holt |
Robinson Jeffers |
396 | 2018-02-27 04:02:30 | A Rose In Birth poem | I'm a disgrace to the lifeI lived as a girl—she would be ashamedto have me in the world.But there's no turning back; it's time to pay the pricefor selfish prideand evil vice.Or pack up my thingsand leave this great earth—would you put in placea rose in birth.Cause thorns I've gotit's the petals I lack; beauty should unfold: this is no unknown fact.With this request I must be going—please all take care, boys and girlshandsome and fair. |
s./j. goldner |
397 | 2018-02-27 04:02:33 | Sonnet 91: Some Glory In Their Birth, So.. poem | Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,Some in their wealth, some in their body's force,Some in their garments though new-fangled ill,Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure,Wherein it finds a joy above the rest,But these particulars are not my measure;All these I better in one general best.Thy love is better than high birth to me,Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' costs,Of more delight than hawks and horses be;And having thee, of all men's pride I boast— Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take, All this away and me most wretched make. |
William Shakespeare |
398 | 2018-02-27 04:02:37 | On Stella's Birth-Day, 1719 poem | Stella this Day is thirty four, (We shan't dispute a Year or more) However Stella, be not troubled, Although thy Size and Years are doubled, Since first I saw Thee at Sixteen The brightest Virgin on the Green, So little is thy Form declin'd Made up so largely in thy Mind. Oh, woud it please the Gods to split Thy Beauty, Size, and Years, and Wit, No Age could furnish out a Pair Of Nymphs so graceful, Wise and fair With half the Lustre of your Eyes, With half your Wit, your Years and Size: And then before it grew too late, How should I beg of gentle Fate, (That either Nymph might have her Swain,) To split my Worship too in twain. |
Jonathan Swift |
399 | 2018-02-27 04:02:44 | Between Birth N Death poem | (written when i was 12) nobody tells uswhere they go tonobody tells uswhere they come fromin darkness we live and die | indira babbellapati |
400 | 2018-02-27 04:02:46 | Birth And Death poem | Birth and death, twin-sister and twin-brother,Night and day, on all things that draw breath,Reign, while time keeps friends with one another Birth and death.Each brow-bound with flowers diverse of wreath,Heaven they hail as father, earth as mother,Faithful found above them and beneath.Smiles may lighten tears, and tears may smotherSmiles, for all that joy or sorrow saith:Joy nor sorrow knows not from each other Birth and death. |
Algernon Charles Swinburne |
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