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It takes two to make a marriage a success and only one to make it a failure.

quote by Herbert Samuel
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the Way To Success

failure may outnumber success
failure is there
to make you strong
failure may cause pain
but nothing goes in vain
failure keeps you in touch
with reality
failure gives wisdom
failure gives experience
cowards don't fail
It's for the brave
who leave the shore
to sail into unknown
failure is a stop
in the journey of life
don't stop at the bend
today's failure would be
tomorrow's bigger success
failure is the cradle
in which success rocks.
failure is not a sin
failure is the first step for success
failure teaches you how to succeed
failure always helps in your success
failure helps you from failing
if you fail, it's not the end of the world
try!
success will definitely be on your way
so will run away your failure
but...
never forget your failure in life which helped you in your
SUCCESS

poem by Liioona Mohie
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After Marriage

Before marriage she used to keep me handsomely like a
king on her lids; dancing them every now and again to
rejuvenate my overwhelmingly harried senses,
While after marriage she hardly opened her eyes; kept
sleeping like an untamed monster all day; despite the
most passionate of my appeals.

Before marriage she harbored me like the most prized
ring on her finger; scrubbing it umpteenth number of
times with the ointment of her sensuous love,
While after marriage she locked her ornament in her
dilapidated rusty safe; leaving me in the realms of
obsolete oblivion to contend with the dust and demons.

Before marriage she possessed me like a cherished rose
in vase of her heart; harnessing me with the crimson
blood that flowed profusely through her veins,
While after marriage she ruthlessly ripped me apart;
left me to decay with the stinking pile of garbage and
the sweeper blowing me in nonchalant disdain; with the
bristles of his threadbare broomstick.

Before marriage she chanted my name infinite times in
a single minute; refraining to commence any activity
without its irrefutably sacred presence on her lips,
While after marriage she stared like a complete
stranger into my innocuous eyes; austerely asking who
I indeed was with an unheard abuse.

Before marriage she offered me a place to sit; even if
that meant that she stood for mind-boggling hours on
the trot,
While after marriage she sat on top of me with her
battalion of fat friends; started to thunderously
laugh without the slightest of gasp or respite.

Before marriage she remained starved till the time I
didn’t eat; famishing her dainty persona to
unprecedented limits till the moment I fed her the
first morsel of food with my very own fingers,
While after marriage she finished breakfast; lunch;
dinner at a single shot; made me run for my life
before she decided to set her gigantic intentions on
my robust skin.

Before marriage she hummed mesmerizing tunes in my ear
before I went off to sleep; blessing my dreary
countenance with divinely reinvigoration and celestial
peace,
While after marriage she woke me the very next instant

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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The Marriage of Heaven and Hell

THE ARGUMENT

RINTRAH roars and shakes his
fires in the burdenM air,
Hungry clouds swag on the deep.

Once meek, and in a perilous path

The just man kept his course along

The Vale of Death.

Roses are planted where thorns grow,

And on the barren heath

Sing the honey bees.

Then the perilous path was planted,
And a river and a spring
On every cliff and tomb;

5

THE MARRIAGE OF

And on the bleached bones
Red clay brought forth:
Till the villain left the paths of ease
To walk in perilous paths, and drive
The just man into barren climes.

Now the sneaking serpent walks
In mild humility ;

And the just man rages in the wilds
Where Uons roam.

Rintrah roars and shakes his fires in

the burdened air,
Hungry clouds swag on the deep.

As a new heaven is begun, and it is
now thirty-three years since its advent,
the Eternal Hell revives. And lo!
Swedenborg is the angel sitting at
the tomb: his writings are the Unen

[...] Read more

poem by William Blake
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At the Altar

Now to take away your life –
Devour your soul afresh upon
The birth of every dawning day
– The spawn of sun and earth –
As of the way Prometheus lost hepatic flesh –
He stole fire! You stole gropes
And f*cks of me; so suffer thee!

Oh yes, perspire! Drizzle down the beads
Upon that crimson, blotchy skin –
I see the once cocksure pose, my man,
Is wearing terribly thin.

Indeed, an absence of repose
Discloses thumping in your chest –
Irregularly rhythmic – like the humping
(When you thought I was a body to molest) .

No more! my little man, for I shall wrest
The living essence from your
Paling, quivering form! –

You’ve had your gentle calm
Before the rumblings of the storm!

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The word “Divorce” never exists

Divorce … Divorce…
Think that there is such thing never exist

-o-

Look at the girl twice before you choose
Think twice before you put the marriage ring
Once Marriage is done, it is forever.

Marriage is between two hearts,
If you marry for anything else,
There is no guarantee that it will stand

Marry for money, money can be lost
Marry for beauty, beauty can be lost
Marry for health, health can be lost
Marry for love, love can’t be lost
Look at the eyes and feel the heart
Love is there for you always

-o-

Marriage doesn’t mean, it stands for ever
Marriage is planting the love seed
Plant the love seed, deep enough in heart
Manure with smiles and pore more love

Marriage doesn’t mean, it stands for ever
Trust each other more than self
Stand for each more than self
Keep the self out and live for spouse

Marriage is place to work together
Work heard to keep it fruitful
Pray heard to keep it safe
Love heard to make it more romantic

Spouse and Kids are God’s gifts
God entrusted us to take care of them,
The way he is taking care of us.

-o-
Divorce is the evil
It killed the souls and hearts
Divorce … Divorce …
Don’t think of it.
There is nobody who gained out of it

Divorce … Divorce…
Think that there is such thing never exist

[...] Read more

poem by Bhavani Polimetla
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Into how many parts would you divide the child after Divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many insane parts would you divide your new-born child’s eternal happiness; after your treacherously vindictive divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many heartless parts would you divide your new-born child’s invincible freedom; after your venomously unbearable divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many ribald parts would you divide your new-born child’s unsurpassable creativity; after your lethally unceremonious divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many salacious parts would you divide your new-born child’s majestic destiny; after your lecherously ignominious divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many emotionless parts would you divide your new-born child’s triumphant spirit; after your contemptuously debasing divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many terrorizing parts would you divide your new-born child’s unbridled fantasies; after your abhorrently cadaverous divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many excruciating parts would you divide your new-born child’s humanitarian blood; after your cold-bloodedly cannibalistic divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many tyrannized parts would you divide your new-born child’s unconquerable artistry; after your violently besmirching divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many reproachful parts would you divide your new-born child’s redolent playfulness; after your despicably devastating divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many sacrilegious parts would you divide your new-born child’s impregnable mischief; after your sadistically bemoaning divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many wanton parts would you divide your new-born child’s impeccable integrity; after your hedonistically carnivorous divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many ghoulish parts would you divide your new-born child’s limitless fertility; after your mindlessly malicious divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many diabolical parts would you divide your new- born child’s infallible innocence; after your unforgivably truculent divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many vengeful parts would you divide your new-born child’s uninhibited cries; after your preposterously bigoted divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many criminal parts would you divide your new-born child’s princely silkenness; after your tempestuously confounding divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many satanic parts would you divide your new-born child’s tiny brain; after your barbarously ungainly divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many sadistic parts would you divide your new-born child’s unlimited curiosity; after your egregiously dastardly divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many carnivorous parts would you divide your new-born child’s parental longing; after your inanely decrepit divorce?

And you might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but tell me; into how many goddamned parts would you divide your new-born child’s immortal love; after your devilishly vituperative divorce?

©®copyright-2005, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Wife to Be (Petrarchan Sonnet)

I stroll along a fragrant country lane
With honeysuckle perfume on the air -
And feathered crooner's warble to revere -
Then cross a golden sea of flowing grain
In empathy - it seems to sense my pain
Of knowing all was done with my affair -
Her empty meaning now the solitaire
She cast away - betrothment all in vain.
But oceans team with many fish to catch
So I must up and hoist another sail
And seek the one that really waits for me,
For soon auspicious breezes will prevail
In guiding forth to find a truer match:
The one to take my hand as wife to be.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Unmarried

Unmarried; when we kissed; we felt the waves of untamed passion rise to the ultimate crescendo of fulfillment; whilst when after Marriage; we felt it to be just routinely boring ritual to be inevitably done; just to spuriously appease each other,

Unmarried; when we listened to each other; our eyes interlocked for hours immemorial as we became oblivious to every other sound in the atmosphere; whilst after Marriage; the words seemed to irately pound like a billion unwashed boulders; upon the extremely tempestuous chords of our eardrums,

Unmarried; when we philandered together; we almost seemed to unanimously admire and appreciate each natural creation of the Lord Almighty; whilst after Marriage; we sat taut and haughty in stony silence; even as the most majestically virile sceneries and greeneries passed by,

Unmarried; when we confronted any problem; both of us earnestly put in our the last droplet of our sweat to emerge unitedly victorious; whilst when after Marriage; each of us left it wholesomely on the other to get out of the inexplicable disaster,

Unmarried; when we sipped wine; we cheered a toast umpteenth number of times in the sensuous wilderness of the night; whilst after Marriage; each of us chimed our glasses just once for the sake of the sanctimonious society; and that too with profound abhorrence lingering in our eyes; and time and again casting sneering glances at the bottle price,

Unmarried; when we slept; we were aware and fondly traced even the tiniest creak of our bodies with our uninhibitedly wandering fingers; whilst after marriage we indifferently slept poles apart; thunderously snoring till eternity; even as either one of us was being crucified by the swords of diabolical hell,

Unmarried; when we sat to eat supper; each one of us altruistically waited for marathon moments before the other devoured to his/her hearts content; whilst after marriage both of us made a barbarous beeline for the singleton dish; at times ending with raw gashes of unsavory blood; on our profusely scratched hands and face,

Unmarried; when we wrote each others names; we felt the most pricelessly blessed organisms alive perpetually possessing each other in our hearts; whilst after marriage we never disclosed it to anyone that we even had a lifepartner; specially if it was someone of the opposite sex,

Unmarried; when we swam in the choppy ocean; even the most infinitesimal vein of our body was so perennially entwined that it was impossible to separate us even in the fiercest of storm; whilst after marriage we deliberately used each others heads as a lifeboat; drowning the other in our attempt to stay triumphantly afloat and selfishly alive,

Unmarried; when we awoke; the very first thing that we did in the morning was to bow down to each other’s feet as we found our ultimate liberator in each of ourself; whilst after marriage we strangulated each other’s senses for uncannily waking up early in the morning; and hideously disrupting the heavenliness of bountiful sleep,

Unmarried; when we were wounded; we compassionately ran every contour of our fervent lips to those parts which hurt till there was not the tiniest of pain; whilst after marriage all that we could hedonistically muster; was indigenous salt to apply on the agonizingly crimson streams of blood,

Unmarried; when we laughed; it was as if to trace and assimilate even the most insouciant bit of ecstasy hidden in our unconscious veins; whilst after marriage we invidiously chortled and exploited each other’s idiosyncrasies; even at the cost of an infinite tears which unstoppably flowed,

Unmarried; when we sketched; all we could capture on our barren canvases was every conceivable shade of our passionately exuberant silhouettes; whilst after marriage if ever we used our drawing pens; then it was to spew blood of intolerance and unfathomable hatred,

Unmarried; when we were lost; we rediscovered and reborn each other in our very own unassailably redolent breaths; whilst after marriage we heartlessly abandoned each other; leaping at the beams of hope who came searching us; and at the first opportunity,

Unmarried; when we sobbed for our loved ones; the innermost realms of our souls united for an infinite lifetimes to share our grief and ameliorate ourselves to the highest epitome of the Sun; whilst after marriage we sadistically used each other’s tears to bathe; incase the overhead tank was empty,

Unmarried; when we created something; we mutually congratulated each other till the aisles of endless infinity whether there came or not; the tiniest of soul from the outside world; whilst after marriage the same creation became the ultimate reason in our route to divorce,

Unmarried; when we saw suffering on the streets; we selflessly extricated even the last ounce of blood from our veins; endeavoring our best to serve humanity; whilst after marriage we greedily amassed our own wealth; career; identity and fame; in order to royally exist in separate palaces of gold soaked in innocent blood,
Unmarried; when we met after office; we embraced each other with so much passion and intensity that the most gigantic of structures and creation around humbly tumbled to our toes; whilst after marriage we rapaciously preferred to frequent the prostitutes dwelling to placate our heinous desires; as well as stay forever away from our robotically boring faces,

Therefore it is my nimble plea to you O! Omnipresent Lord; to let our love forever immortalize into a cloud of unbreakable compassion; to let our love forever become the ultimate guiding beacon for every other true lover born; and thus for all this to consolidate into a timeless reality; leave us best as UNMARRIED…

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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VII. Pompilia

I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.

All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Thats What It Takes

And now it begins to shine
And you found the eyes to see
Each little drop at dawn of evry day
Your smile, it comes back to me
And whatever you may say
Dont let it stop, never fade away
As we got to get out in this world together, oh
Doesnt really matter if we start to make some changes, oh
If thats what it takes (thats what it takes)
Then Ive got to be strong (thats what it takes)
Dont want to be wrong
If thats what it takes
The closer I get (thats what it takes)
Into that open door (what it takes)
Ive got to be sure
If thats what it takes
And now that its shining through
And you can see all this world
Dont let it stop, never fade away
If we got to be in this life forever, oh-oh
Then wed better be taking all the chances, oh oh
If thats what it takes (thats what it takes)
Then Ive got to be strong (thats what it takes)
Dont want to be wrong
If thats what it takes
The closer I get (thats what it takes)
Into that open door (what it takes)
Ive got to be sure
If thats what it takes
Thats what it takes, thats what it takes
Thats what it takes, thats what it takes
(thats) what it takes, thats what it takes
Thats what it takes, (thats) what it takes
Thats what it takes, oh, thats what it takes
(repeat and fade:)
Oh, thats what it takes

song performed by George Harrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Life – A Melodrama Of Labour

The melodrama of labour,
The menace of failure
The determination to achieve,
To make one believe
That success can be near,
Turns down the failure-fear
And a step you advance, success seems to cling
Give more thrust and advance, And you find yourself in success ring.

Success succumbs to the brave,
Cowards fear success break
Paradoxically the want is universal
Made by planned series of rehearsals.

How many can cut the joy of enjoying?
Or learn enjoying in the work?
How many can realize the joy is work?
And learn working without end?

Complacence succumbs to success,
But significant is its degree
So calls for success after success,
Ongoing till breath can be!

Falls to be without distress,
And success to be without rest
Just as Nature weaves the flowers,
Without heed to the whither-showers.

Success is all pervasive,
Success: light or massive
Success is sugar of life,
The sprout of Success is bright.

No onset, No end,
Success has in its blend
Image of one’s deity
And gratefulness for complacence.

This is the tale of life,
This is the consent of joy & spice
From a success in having breaths
To an all successful life!

poem by Jasleen Khanuja
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Fifth Book

AURORA LEIGH, be humble. Shall I hope
To speak my poems in mysterious tune
With man and nature,–with the lava-lymph
That trickles from successive galaxies
Still drop by drop adown the finger of God,
In still new worlds?–with summer-days in this,
That scarce dare breathe, they are so beautiful?–
With spring's delicious trouble in the ground
Tormented by the quickened blood of roots.
And softly pricked by golden crocus-sheaves
In token of the harvest-time of flowers?–
With winters and with autumns,–and beyond,
With the human heart's large seasons,–when it hopes
And fears, joys, grieves, and loves?–with all that strain
Of sexual passion, which devours the flesh
In a sacrament of souls? with mother's breasts,
Which, round the new made creatures hanging there,
Throb luminous and harmonious like pure spheres?–
With multitudinous life, and finally
With the great out-goings of ecstatic souls,
Who, in a rush of too long prisoned flame,
Their radiant faces upward, burn away
This dark of the body, issuing on a world
Beyond our mortal?–can I speak my verse
So plainly in tune to these things and the rest,
That men shall feel it catch them on the quick,
As having the same warrant over them
To hold and move them, if they will or no,
Alike imperious as the primal rhythm
Of that theurgic nature? I must fail,
Who fail at the beginning to hold and move
One man,–and he my cousin, and he my friend,
And he born tender, made intelligent,
Inclined to ponder the precipitous sides
Of difficult questions; yet, obtuse to me,–
Of me, incurious! likes me very well,
And wishes me a paradise of good,
Good looks, good means, and good digestion!–ay,
But otherwise evades me, puts me off
With kindness, with a tolerant gentleness,–
Too light a book for a grave man's reading! Go,
Aurora Leigh: be humble.
There it is;
We women are too apt to look to one,
Which proves a certain impotence in art.
We strain our natures at doing something great,
Far less because it's something great to do,
Than, haply, that we, so, commend ourselves
As being not small, and more appreciable
To some one friend. We must have mediators

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poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

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poem by Robert Browning (1871)
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There Is No Rest For Success

Success is a journey not a destination a year from
now you may wish you had started today.
Every beginner is a winner. Success is not escaping problems but facing them creatively.
There is no success without sacrifice.
Great success always calls for great sacrifice.
Even failure can become an important ingredient to success.
Failure just means that you have not yet succeeded.
I’d rather change my mind and succeed than have my own way and fail. Success without conflict is unrealistic.
Any person can be successful on smooth seas,
but it is the victory over the storm that gains true honor.
Success doesn’t come through the way you think it comes;
it comes through the way you think.
Never settle for less than success.
Success is doing something good.
When you can, where you can, while you can.
It’s better to attempt to do something great and fail,
than attempt to do nothing and succeed.
Success is not necessarily reaching your goal- but reaching the maximum possibilities in light of the opportunities that come your way.
To keep your values on target remember to live so that when you “arrive”, you’ll have pride behind you and hope ahead of you.
The success is truly the path to heaven.
Success is never ending, because success is like the process of seed planting. Every creative contribution like a seed planted may bear fruit.
Success finally is not what you have it is not what you do;
it is who you are, and what
you want to become of yourself.

poem by Felix Lugo
Added by Poetry Lover
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Whatever It Takes

Face to face we embrace
We drink of loves sweetest wine
Whispered names fan the flames
Each touch is frozen in time
I can feel your heart
And the rhythm of it echoes through my soul
Well surely you know
Whatever it takes baby Im gonna be there
Whatever it takes baby youve got to know
Whatever it takes to be true to you
Baby Ill do it somehow
Promises made to last
These are the hardest to find
Touch me now, let me know
Your love will always be mine
As the years go by
And the fire of my love surely grows
Baby you know
Whatever it takes baby Im gonna be there
Whatever it takes baby youve got to know
Whatever it takes to be true to you
Ill love you to the end
Whatever it takes baby Im gonna be there
Whatever it takes baby youve got to know
Whatever it takes to be true to you
Baby--somehow...
I wanna be true to you
I wanna be hugging you, kissing you
Love you all of my life
Whatever it takes baby
Whatever it takes baby
Im gonna give all of my love, all of my life
Whatever it takes baby
Whatever it takes baby
Im gonna give you all of my love til the end of time
(whatever it takes baby)
Whatever it takes baby (whatever it takes baby)
(all of, all of, all of my life)
I wanna be hugging you, kissing you, yeah
(whatever it takes baby)
(whatever it takes baby)
Whatever it takes baby
(all of, all of, all of my life)
All of my life
(whatever it takes baby)
(whatever it takes baby)
(all of, all of, all of my life)
I wanna be hugging you, kissing you, yeah
(whatever it takes baby)
(whatever it takes baby)

song performed by Amy Grant
Added by Lucian Velea
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V. Count Guido Franceschini

Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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On Marriage

Pessimistic views: :
Marriage is a gamble!
Marriage is a punishment;
Marriage is an evil that
Most can’t but accept.

Optimistic views:
Marriage is a gift of God;
Marriage is a blessing;
Marriage is an enjoyment,
We make the best of it.

Truths:
Marriage is so wonderful;
Marriage is so fulfilling;
Marriage is so wholesome;
Marriage is an endless love,
More priceless than all wealth!

Marriage is a way of life;
Marriage is so natural;
Marriage is the better way,
For two, to reach Heaven.

Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-7-2006

poem by John Celes
Added by Poetry Lover
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Succes My World

When I think success
I see it comes
When i dream success
I see it comes
When i touch success
It fates away
Success success
My hope

I'll find success
Embrace success
When i hold success
I'll keep it save
When I have success
I'll share it
Success success
My world

I'll rule
Yes, I'll influence
Thought, Oh thought
My Success Success
I'll keep,
I see
Success a life
Success my hope
Success my world

poem by Fiefa Bruce
Added by Poetry Lover
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Succes My World

When I think success
I see it comes
When i dream success
I see it comes
When i touch success
It fates away
Success success
My hope

I'll find success
Embrace success
When i hold success
I'll keep it save
When I have success
I'll share it
Success success
My world

I'll rule
Yes, I'll influence
Thought, Oh thought
My Success Success
I'll keep,
I see
Success a life
Success my hope
Success my world

poem by Shubham Kumar
Added by Poetry Lover
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