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What Poetry Moved You?


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hi poetry dabblers

this is the post for you....

 

Stephen Foster

 

Beautiful Dreamer

 

Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,

Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;

Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,

Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd away!

 

Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,

List while I woo thee with soft melody;

Gone are the cares of life's busy throng.

 

Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

 

Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea,

Mermaids are chaunting the wild lorelie;

Over the streamlet vapors are borne,

Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn.

 

Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,

E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea;

Then will all clouds of sorrow depart,

 

Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

Edited by coconiks
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  • 4 weeks later...

from the turgid streams of your mouth

the lush sweetness

of that pale, tranquil liquid

slakes ancient thirsts

 

when slick scarlet cleavages

part and meet

to erupt in a smooth, subtle geyser

of moist mist and nubile muscle

 

in the pause for breath

an eternity of meaning

melts from the frozen stronghold of

your mind --

which, not long ago, was held captive

by that onslaught of dulcet water

 

that is when the syllables come rolling

like fat drops of dew

out of the luscious depths of your mouth

out they roll, teasing with infinite

and coquettish patience

 

yet thirst is more powerful

and the syllabic stream is stopped

by the hot flesh of my greedy mouth

 

--When Syllables Roll Like Water--

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poetry lovers

 

this is for people who speak from the heart. people who do appreciate the finer things in life. may it always be so....

 

Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

Give All to Love

 

Give all to love;

Obey thy heart;

Friends, kindred, days,

Estate, good-fame,

Plans, credit, and the Muse,—

Nothing refuse.

 

'Tis a brave master;

Let it have scope:

Follow it utterly,

Hope beyond hope:

High and more high

It dives into noon,

With wing unspent,

Untold intent;

But it is a God,

Knows its own path

And the outlets of the sky.

 

It was never for the mean;

It requireth courage stout.

Souls above doubt,

Valor unbending,

It will reward,—

They shall return

More than they were,

And ever ascending.

 

Leave all for love;

Yet, hear me, yet,

One word more thy heart behoved,

One pulse more of firm endeavor,—

Keep thee to-day,

To-morrow, forever,

Free as an Arab

Of thy beloved.

 

Cling with life to the maid;

But when the surprise,

First vague shadow of surmise

Flits across her bosom young,

Of a joy apart from thee,

Free be she, fancy-free;

Nor thou detain her vesture's hem,

Nor the palest rose she flung

From her summer diadem.

 

Though thou loved her as thyself,

As a self of purer clay,

Though her parting dims the day,

Stealing grace from all alive;

Heartily know,

When half-gods go,

The gods survive.

 

:blush:

Edited by coconiks
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(a male buddy of mine gave me a copy of this poem

he couldn't recall the author's name but is positive

it's a man. a milk drinking poet, my kind of guy. :wub: )

 

 

A glass of milk

 

 

Perhaps for tonight this is the last

glass of milk on earth

still left undrunk; still like an unlit

fluorescent lamp on

the kitchen table as the sadness of the

world spills

from the radio in lovers' English

a recording of sea waves.

 

 

Outside the small hours of the night

grow smaller

and the nighthawks of the city fly

away

collective into their clubs and their

stupor.

You go with them who drown their

spirits with alcohol.

 

 

And so tonight, with this glass of

milk, I drink to you:

To your conquest of gin and tonic,

and to your usual on the rocks,

to the one who will drink with you

tonight, to the one who will

go home with you, whose lips will

press against yours like warm glass.

 

 

But neither these words nor sobriety

can turn milk into wine.

Solitude cannot be washed down, and

desire must be weaned

away from your company as it must

from milk. Midnight, and

the dumb calf of the heart wobbles

away from its own recovery.

 

 

Because in pangs of philosophy, I

hold my addiction to you like

jealousies

that will never be healed and so must

be kept hurting to stay alive.

Milk, at least, relieves one of an

insomnia that is a symptom of

something

nursed beyond repair, that can never

hope beyond a temporary cure.

 

 

The early mornings remain as black

and white as a glass of milk

in the darkness of an empty house. I

drink to you but can

only drink milk that has drowned

other nights I stayed up for you,

sober in the darkness and drunk at the

heart.

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before i go, just wanna share with you a very sensual poem by ee cummings...

 

 

i like my body when it is with your

body. It is so quite new a thing.

Muscles better and nerves more.

i like your body. i like what it does,

i like its hows. i like to feel the spine

of your body and its bones, and the trembling

-firm-smooth ness and which i will

again and again and again

kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,

i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz

of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes

over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

 

of under me you so quite new

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Constance Fenimore Woolson

 

Love Unexpressed

 

The sweetest notes among the human heart-strings are dull with rust;

The sweetest chords, adjusted by the angels, are clogged with dust;

We pipe and pipe again our dreary music upon the self-same strains,

While sounds of crime, and fear, and desolation, come back in sad refrains.

 

On through the world we go, an army marching with listening ears,

Each longing, sighing, for the heavenly music he never hears;

Each longing, sighing, for a word of comfort, a word of tender praise,

A word of love, to cheer the endless journey of earth's hard, busy days.

 

They love us, and we know it; this suffices for reason's share.

Why should they pause to give that love expression with gentle care?

Why should they pause? But still our hearts are aching with all the gnawing pain

Of hungry love that longs to hear the music, and longs and longs in vain.

 

We love them, and they know it; if we falter, with fingers numb,

Among the unused strings of love's expression, the notes are dumb.

We shrink within ourselves in voiceless sorrow, leaving the words unsaid,

And, side by side with those we love the dearest, in silence on we tread.

 

Thus on we tread, and thus each heart in silence its fate fulfils,

Waiting and hoping for the heavenly music beyond the distant hills.

The only difference of the love in heaven from love on earth below Is:

Here we love and know not how to tell it, and there we all shall know.

 

 

nothing original yet... but i think this is nice :)

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I DO NOT LOVE YOU...

Pablo Neruda

 

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

 

I love you as the plant that never blooms

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

 

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way

 

that this: where I does not exist, nor you,

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

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Neruda, good one NakedAngel. I am mesmerized by his poetry. Here is my fave:

 

 

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.

Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.

Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day

I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

 

I hunger for your sleek laugh,

your hands the color of a savage harvest,

hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,

I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

 

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,

the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,

I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

 

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,

hunting for you, for your hot heart,

Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

 

 

Leaves me breathless everytime I read it. Beautiful.

Edited by Lipstick
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here'e something to read..

 

THE WONDER OF FORGIVING

 

I found a new book and I'm excited to share it with you. It's Forgiveness Therapy by David Schell.

 

Here are some of my favorites:

 

* Forgiveness means bending without breaking, being strong enough to withstand the heavy weight of injury but resilient enough to recover. Be forgiving.

 

* Forgive yourself; for what you regret doing and for what you wish you had done, for not being fully yourself and for being only yourself.

 

* Self-forgiveness cleanses the soul, washing away shame and guilt. Out of self-forgiveness comes the power to extend forgiveness to others.

 

* You have the right to feel sad, betrayed, angry, resentful when you've been injured. Understand, accept and express your feelings. Pushing them below the surface only means they will erupt in another place, at another time.

 

* Justice may right the wrongs, but forgiveness heals the hurt. Seek forgiveness beyond justice.

 

* Sometimes people hurt you because, like you, they are learning and growing. Forgive their incompleteness, their humanness.

 

* To refuse to forgive is to continue to hurt yourself. Victimized once, your lack of forgiveness keeps you stuck as a victim, holding on to a victim's identity. Instead, claim the identity of one who forgives.

 

* No loving relationship is free of hurts. Bind up the wounds of love with forgiveness.

 

* When you are having a difficult time forgiving, recall a moment when you wanted to be forgiven. Offer the other person what you wanted to receive.

 

* Forgiveness takes practice. Start with small hurts and work your way up to the big ones.

 

* Forgiveness may seem futile when you see no immediate results. But healing and growth are like fine aged cheese -- not instant mashed potatoes. Give forgiveness time.

 

* You cannot change someone for the better by holding a grudge. Grudges only change you--for the worse.

 

* When someone won't forgive you, refusing to forgive in return is no answer. That's like wrapping yourself in the other's chains. Keep yourself free; forgive.

 

* To help you forgive, picture the other person surrounded by the light of God. See yourself stepping into that same light, and feel God's presence with you both.

 

* Forgiveness is not something you do for someone else; it is something you do for yourself. Give yourself the gift of forgiveness.

 

Sometimes, when we have been wronged, bruised, angered or betrayed, it is difficult to forgive. It is easier said than done. But too much anger and resentment makes it hard for us to move on. All that pain we refuse to let go will bury us in a place we shouldn't get stuck in. After the hurt and anger should come healing, and healing can only take place if we allow ourselves to forgive.

 

We should pray that God gives us the grace to forgive. Ask HIM to give us a heart big enough to be humble. Once we choose to forgive, then and only then can we heal, then and only then can we free ourselves of the burden of our wounds.

 

Free yourself! Forgive. Allow God's love to thaw your heart!

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hey that was nice roset... still no inspiration so am posting something from...

 

Anonymous

 

Love Me Little, Love Me Long

 

Love me little, love me long,

Is the burden of my song.

Love that is too hot and strong

Burneth soon to waste.

Still, I would not have thee cold,

Not too backward, nor too bold;

Love that lasteth till 'tis old

Fadeth not in haste.

Love me little, love me long,

Is the burden of my song.

 

If thou lovest me too much,

It will not prove as true as touch;

Love me little, more than such,

For I fear the end.

I am with little well content,

And a little from thee sent

Is enough, with true intent

To be steadfast friend.

Love me little, love me long,

Is the burden of my song.

 

Say thou lov'st me while thou live;

I to thee my love will give,

Never dreaming to deceive

Whiles that life endures.

Nay, and after death, in sooth,

I to thee will keep my truth,

As now, when in my May of youth;

This my love assures.

Love me little, love me long,

Is the burden of my song.

 

Constant love is moderate ever,

And it will through life persever;

Give me that, with true endeavor

I will it restore.

A suit of durance let it be,

For all weathers that for me,

For the land or for the sea,

Lasting evermore.

Love me little, love me long,

Is the burden of my song.

 

Winter's cold, or summer's heat,

Autumn's tempests on it beat,

It can never know defeat,

Never can rebel.

Such the love that I would gain,

Such the love, I tell thee plain,

Thou must give, or woo in vain;

So to thee, farewell!

Love me little, love me long,

Is the burden of my song.

 

and you must be a psychic roset, that's exactly what i needed.... ;)

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I posted this somewhere, damn I forgot where. Forgot the author too, but I memorized this one by heart years ago. It remain one of my favorites.

This one goes out to the forgotten soldiers out there who belong to another age, yet go about their duties here and now because it is not in them to do otherwise. May you recover the Shards of Eternity that are hidden within these blasted and broken mortal realms, and in putting these together, may you realize that victory is inevitable, even if it was not given to you to see it.

 

########################

 

Over the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole

I thank whatever Gods may be

for my unconquerable soul

 

In the fell clutch of Circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud

Under the bludgeonings of Chance

my head is bloody buy unbowed

 

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

looms but the horrors of the Shade

Yet the menace of the years finds

and shall find me unafraid

 

It matters not how straight the gate

How charged with punishment the scroll

I am the master of my fate

I am the captain of my soul

 

#############################

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Try Sanctum in Intramurous, they have poetry nights often.

Ah.... can anyone tell me some details about that Sanctuarium...the one with the poetry reading and all...

 

I'm kinda curious, that's all. I'm a huge dark poetry fanatic, hence this I've simply gotta see.

 

Awaiting further discussions, friends.

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SexyASS!!! Don't mention it, am glad to be of help. ;) Oh did I mention the ambiance there is so relaxed? It's like a living room with divans, throw pillows and even something like an Opium Bed. Very different and very nice.

 

Darkside ... it's SANCTUM not sanctuarium. Baka kasi saan ka mapadpad at hindi sa Intramurous. LOL.

Edited by Lipstick
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For lovers, young and old...

 

Tonight I can write the saddest lines...

by Pablo Neruda

 

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, "The night is shattered, and blue stars shiver in the distance."

 

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

 

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me too.

 

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.

I kissed her, again and again under the endless sky.

 

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.

How could one not have loved her great still eyes?

 

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

To think that I do not have her.

To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.

 

And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her?

The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all.

 

In the distance, someone is singing.

In the distance, my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

 

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.

My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

 

The same night whitening the same trees.

We of that time are no longer the same.

 

I no longer love her, that's certain.

But how I loved her.

My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

 

Another's.

She will be another's .

Like my kisses before.

Her voice.

Her bright body.

Her infiniter eyes.

 

I no longer love her, that's certain.

But maybe I love her.

Love is so short.

Forgetting so long.

 

Because through nights like this

I held her in my arms, my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

 

Though this be the last pain she makes me suffer,

and these,

the last verses

I write for her.

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nice to see madaming fans si pablo neruda dito.

 

here is another one, excerpt lang ng "If you forget me"

 

Well now, if little by little you stop loving me,

I shall stop loving you, little by little.

If suddenly you forget me, do not look for me

for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think at long and mad the wind banners that passes through my life

and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots,

remember than on that day, at that hour I shall lift my arms

and my roots will set off to seek another land.

 

But if each day each hour

you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness.

If each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me, ah my love,

ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated,

in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,

my love feeds on your love beloved,

and as long as you live in will be in your arms without leaving mine.

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