Morning Sun
THE MORNING SUN COMES THRU MY WINDOW
ALL NIGHT LONG I HAVE BEEN WAITING
WE WHO ARE CONSTANTLY MOVING
LEAVING PART OF US BEHIND
SHE MOVES ACROSS THE ROOM WITH EASY GRACE
MONA LISA SMILES UP ON HER FACE
I WHO AM COMPLETELY MESMERIZED
BY THE SUNLIGHT IN HER EYES
MORNING SUN COMES THRU MY WINDOWS
ALL NIGHT LONG I HAVE BEEN WAITING
WE WHO ARE CONSTANTLY MOVING
LEAVING PART OF US BEHIND
MOVES ACROSS THE ROOM WITH EASY GRACE
MONA LISA SMILES UP ON HER FACE
I WHO AM COMPLETELY MESMERIZED
BY THE SUNLIGHT IN HER EYES
AND THE MORNING SUN COMES THRU MY WINDOW
ALL NIGHT LONG I HAVE BEEN WAITING
WE WHO ARE CONSTANTLY MOVING
LEAVING PART OF US BEHIND
song performed by Bad Company
Added by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
The House Of Dust: Complete
I.
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.
And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.
'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.
We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .
Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.
Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.
Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.
II.
[...] Read more
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Lisa Says
(reed)
V.u. version
------------------------------------------
Lisa says that its allright
When she needs to be alone at night
Lisa says that she has a fun
And shell do it with just about anyone.
Lisa says, lisa says, lisa says, lisa says
Lisa says that shes on the run
Looking for a special one
Lisa says that every time she makes his trip
She knows her heart will beat
Lisa says, lisa says, lisa says, lisa says
Looking for a part and some action
Going to make it feel okay
But what do you find
When the time has come on, now
Look at it run
Lisa says, lisa says, lisa says, lisa says
Lisa says, lisa says, lisa says...
1969 live version
--------------------------------------------
Lisa says on a night like this,
Itll be so nice if youd give me a kiss.
And lisa says for just one little smile,
Ill sit next to you for a little while.
Lisa says, lisa says, lisa says, lisa says
Lisa says you must be some kind of fool,
The way you treat everybody so cruel.
And lisa says you must be a funny kind of guy,
The way youre always staring at the sky.
Lisa says, lisa says, lisa says, lisa says
If youre lookin for a good-time charlie,
Well thats not really what I am.
You know a good-time charlies wastin time.
Cause the good-time charlie,
Thats not baby where I am.
You know that good times just seem to pass me by.
Lisa says on a night like this,
Itll be so nice if youd give me a kiss.
And lisa says for just one little smile,
Ill sit next to you for a little while.
Lisa says, lisa says, lisa says, lisa says
Why am I so shy, why am I so shy.
Good times you know they just seem to pass me by.
Why am I so shy.
First time I saw you I was talkin to myself
I said wow shes got such pretty pretty eyes
Such pretty eyes...
Now that you are next to me I just get so upset
[...] Read more
song performed by Velvet Underground
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lisa Says
Lisa says, on a night like this
Itd be so nice, if you gave me a great big kiss
And lisa says, honey, for just one little smile
Ill sing and play for you for the longest while
Lisa says
Lisa says
Lisa says, oh, no
Lisa says
Lisa says, honey, you must think -
- Im some kind of california fool
The way you treat me just like some kind of tool
Lisa says, hey baby, if you stick your tongue in my ear
Then the scene around here will become very clear
Lisa says, oh no
Lisa says, hey, dont you be a little baby
Lisa says, oh, no
Lisa says
Hey, if youre looking for a good time charlie
Well, thats not really what I am
You know, some good time charlie
Always out, having his fun
But if youre looking for some good, good lovin
Then sit yourself right over here
You know that those good, those good times
They just seem to pass me by, just like pie in the sky
And lisa says, on a night like this
Itd be so nice if you gave me a great big kiss
And lisa says, hey baby, for just one little smile
Ill sing and play for you for the longest while
Let me hear you now
Lisa says, oh, no, no
Lisa says, hey, dont you be a little baby
Lisa says, oh, no
Lisa says
Why am I so shy
Why am I so shy, gee, you know those
Good good times, they just seem to pass me by
Why am I so shy
First time I saw you I was talking to myself
I said, hey, you got such pretty, pretty eyes
(that pretty eyes)
Now that youre next to me I just get so upset
And lisa, will you tell me, why am I so shy
Why am I so shy
Why am I so shy, well, you know that those
Good, good times, they just seem to pass me by
Why am I so shy
And lisa says, on a night like this
Itd be so nice if you gave me a great big kiss
And lisa says, honey, for just one little smile
[...] Read more
song performed by Lou Reed
Added by Lucian Velea
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Oh! Lisa With These Lovely Eyes
Lisa with the dark brown eyes
So please tell my soul to sympathize,
We shall cry forever in overcast skies
Lisa with the dark brown eyes,
Lisa with the dark brown eyes
Heartbroken heart spoken, not taken back
To change a mind so is lifes dream
Lisa with the dark brown eyed
Lisa with the dark brown eyes
That blends your butter scotch face insight
Smiles which brings sparkles to my mind
Lisa with the dark brown eyes
Lisa with the dark brown eyes
Many pre thoughts of your strays hypnotize
French, African, English culture dies
Lisa with the dark brown eyes
Lisa with the dark brown eyes
She dabbles her life in fiction trash
her soul with curious follies
Lisa with the dark brown eyes
Lisa with the dark brown eyes
Loneliness, has come far a sad. sad day
Emptiness in your mind and heart pay
Lisa with the dark brown eyes
Lisa with the dark, dark, brown eyes
You walk the world in beauty forgotten
They speak about you something forbidden
Lisa with the dark, dark, brown eyes
Lisa with the dark, dark, brown eyes
Your body your mind so whole same so
Your gave birth and I wish I could understand, understand
Lisa with the dark dark raven eyes
Lisa with the dark dark brown eyes
Curiosity is so special time flies, my sighs
Persuaded a fool to be wise, so wise how wise
Lisa with the dark dark brown eyes.
poem by Klayne Mario Burton
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Monday Morning On The Bus
Mona sits on the school bus,
the noise of the other children
seems far away, she is indulging
in her thoughts. Lisa will get
on the bus soon. Her closeness
again. Sitting just here. Next to
me, Mona muses, patting the
seat next to her. The evening
before they had parted after
the tea. The bedroom romp
had filled her up. Each moment
seems to relive in her mind.
She looks out of the window,
passing countryside, cows in
fields, trees, birds. They had
almost drowned in the downpour
of rain from the woods to the
house the afternoon before.
Drenched to the skin. Get out
of those wet clothes, they had
been told by a parent. And they
did so. That started it all off.
Naked and drying. How had it
got that far? She thinks, watching
a girl on the other side of the
aisle of the bus talk about
watching such and such on TV.
She wonders how Lisa feels now.
The day after. After such things,
such sights, such deeds. The bus
draws to a stop. Others get on.
Lisa comes up the aisle and sits
beside her. She smiles and fiddles
with her school bag. Her fingers
nervous, like spiders on the run.
Sleep all right? Mona asks. Yes,
Lisa answers. Their eyes meet.
Mona feels a thump in her breast;
[...] Read more
poem by Terry Collett
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Little Sister
Lisa says that it's allright
When she needs to be alone at night
Lisa says that she has a fun
And she'll do it with just about anyone.
Lisa says, Lisa says, Lisa says, Lisa says
Lisa says that she's on the run
Looking for a special one
Lisa says that every time she makes his trip
She knows her heart will beat
Lisa says, Lisa says, Lisa says, Lisa says
Looking for a part and some action
Going to make it feel okay
But what do you find
When the time has come on, now
Look at it run
Lisa says, Lisa says, Lisa says, Lisa says
Lisa says, Lisa says, Lisa says...
song performed by Lou Reed
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mona Lisa
-artist: nat king cole
-peak billboard position # 1 for 8 weeks in 1950
-words and music by jay livingston and ray evans
-academy award winner from the film captain carey, u.s.a starring alan ladd
Mona lisa, mona lisa, men have named you
Youre so like the lady with the mystic smile
Is it only cause youre lonely they have blamed you?
For that mona lisa strangeness in your smile?
Do you smile to tempt a lover, mona lisa?
Or is this your way to hide a broken heart?
Many dreams have been brought to your doorstep
They just lie there and they die there
Are you warm, are you real, mona lisa?
Or just a cold and lonely lovely work of art?
Do you smile to tempt a lover, mona lisa?
Or is this your way to hide a broken heart?
Many dreams have been brought to your doorstep
They just lie there and they die there
Are you warm, are you real, mona lisa?
Or just a cold and lonely lovely work of art?
Mona lisa, mona lisa
song performed by Nat King Cole
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mona Lisa
Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa men have named you
You're so like the lady with the mystic smile
Is it only cause you're lonely they have blamed you
Or that Mona Lisa strangeness in your style
Do you smile to tempt a lover Mona Lisa
Or is this your way to hide a broken heart
Many dreams have been brought to your door step
They just lie there and they die there
Are you warm? Are you real Mona Lisa?
Or just a cold and lonely, lovely work of art
- Musical Interlude -
Do you smile to tempt a lover Mona Lisa
Or is this your way to hide a broken heart
Many dreams have been brought to your door step
They just lie there and they die there
Are you warm? Are you real Mona Lisa?
Or just a cold and lonely, lovely work of art
Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa
song performed by Natalie Cole
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lisa
Oh yeah, yeah (1 2 3 4)
Lisa, let's go 2 the movie
Lisa, let's go
Lisa, let's go 2 the village
Lisa, let's go
Tell your man, he'll understand
Lisa, let's go
Lisa, we're going 2 the movie
Lisa, let's go
It's alright, I don't care
Long as U know, somewhere
Some day, we'll be 2gether
Lisa, I don't care, oh
Lisa, I don't care
Lisa, let's go get blasted
Lisa, let's go
Lisa, I know U're nasty
Lisa, let's go
It's alright, it's OK
Long as U know, some day
Some way, we'll be 2gether
Lisa, it's OK
Yeah, let's go, yeah
Lisa, oh yeah
Yeah, yeah
It's alright, it's OK
Lisa, let's play
Alright
Are U ready, yeah yeah?
Yeah, oh yeah
Yeah yeah
Let's go {x2}
It's alright, it's OK
Long as U know, some day
Some way, we'll be 2gether
Lisa, it's OK, oh {x3}
Lisa, it's O.. it's O.. it's OK
song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi
Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Mona Lisa
(words & music by j. livingston - r. evans)
Mona lisa, mona lisa, man have named you
Youre so like the lady with the mystic smile
Is it only cause youre lonely man have blamed you
For that mona lisa strangeness in your smile
Do you smile to tempt a lover mona lisa
Or is it your way to hide a broken heart
Many dreams have been brought to your doorstep
They just lie there and they die there
Are you warm, are you real mona lisa
Or just a cold and lonely lovely work of art
La la la la......
For that mona lisa strangeness in your smile
Do you smile to tempt a lover mona lisa
Or is it your way to hide a broken heart
Many dreams have been brought to your doorstep
They just lie there and they die there
Are you warm, are you real mona lisa
Or just a cold and lonely lovely work of art
song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Grits Aint Groceries
If I dont love you baby,
Grits aint groceries,
Eggs aint poultry,
And mona lisa was a man.
All around the world
Id rather be a fly
And light on my babys head,
Ill stay with that
Woman til I die.
A toothpick in my hand,
I dig a 10-foot ditch
And ride through the jungle
Fightin lions with a switch,
Because ya know I love ya baby,
Well, you know I love you baby,
And if I dont love you baby,
Grits aint groceries,
Eggs aint poultry,
And mona lisa must-a been a man.
Well, its all around the world and I got
Blisters on my feet
A-tryin to find my baby,
A-bring her back to me.
If you see my baby,
I know shell be convinced.
If it dont send her back to me,
It just
Dont make no sense,
Because ya know I love ya baby,
Well, you know I love you baby.
If I dont love you baby,
Grits aint groceries and eggs aint poultry,
And mona lisa must-a been a man.
Well,
All around the world
I never will forget
I lost all my money, my woman and my pet,
But I got to have you baby,
I got to settle for nothin less,
Give up all my good time for the sake of happiness,
Because ya know I love ya baby,
You know,
You know I love you baby.
If I dont love you baby,
Grits aint groceries,
Eggs aint poultry,
And mona lisa must-a been a man.
I said, if I dont love you baby,
Grits aint groceries,
Eggs aint poultry,
[...] Read more
song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tamar
I
A night the half-moon was like a dancing-girl,
No, like a drunkard's last half-dollar
Shoved on the polished bar of the eastern hill-range,
Young Cauldwell rode his pony along the sea-cliff;
When she stopped, spurred; when she trembled, drove
The teeth of the little jagged wheels so deep
They tasted blood; the mare with four slim hooves
On a foot of ground pivoted like a top,
Jumped from the crumble of sod, went down, caught, slipped;
Then, the quick frenzy finished, stiffening herself
Slid with her drunken rider down the ledges,
Shot from sheer rock and broke
Her life out on the rounded tidal boulders.
The night you know accepted with no show of emotion the little
accident; grave Orion
Moved northwest from the naked shore, the moon moved to
meridian, the slow pulse of the ocean
Beat, the slow tide came in across the slippery stones; it drowned
the dead mare's muzzle and sluggishly
Felt for the rider; Cauldwell’s sleepy soul came back from the
blind course curious to know
What sea-cold fingers tapped the walls of its deserted ruin.
Pain, pain and faintness, crushing
Weights, and a vain desire to vomit, and soon again
die icy fingers, they had crept over the loose hand and lay in the
hair now. He rolled sidewise
Against mountains of weight and for another half-hour lay still.
With a gush of liquid noises
The wave covered him head and all, his body
Crawled without consciousness and like a creature with no bones,
a seaworm, lifted its face
Above the sea-wrack of a stone; then a white twilight grew about
the moon, and above
The ancient water, the everlasting repetition of the dawn. You
shipwrecked horseman
So many and still so many and now for you the last. But when it
grew daylight
He grew quite conscious; broken ends of bone ground on each
other among the working fibers
While by half-inches he was drawing himself out of the seawrack
up to sandy granite,
Out of the tide's path. Where the thin ledge tailed into flat cliff
he fell asleep. . . .
Far seaward
The daylight moon hung like a slip of cloud against the horizon.
The tide was ebbing
From the dead horse and the black belt of sea-growth. Cauldwell
seemed to have felt her crying beside him,
[...] Read more
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Three Women
My love is young, so young;
Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note.
Young is her cheek and her throat;
Her eyes have the smile o' May.
And love is the word for each note
In the song of my life to-day.
Her eyes have the smile o' May;
Her heart is the heart of a dove,
And the song of my life to-day
Is love, beautiful love.
Her heart is the heart of a dove,
Ah, would it but fly to my breast
Where love, beautiful love,
Has made it a downy nest.
Ah, would she but fly to my breast,
My love who is young, so young;
I have made her a downy nest
And life is a song to be sung.
1
I.
A dull little station, a man with the eye
Of a dreamer; a bevy of girls moving by;
A swift moving train and a hot Summer sun,
The curtain goes up, and our play is begun.
The drama of passion, of sorrow, of strife,
Which always is billed for the theatre Life.
It runs on forever, from year unto year,
With scarcely a change when new actors appear.
It is old as the world is-far older in truth,
For the world is a crude little planet of youth.
And back in the eras before it was formed,
The passions of hearts through the Universe stormed.
Maurice Somerville passed the cluster of girls
Who twisted their ribbons and fluttered their curls
In vain to attract him; his mind it was plain
Was wholly intent on the incoming train.
That great one eyed monster puffed out its black breath,
Shrieked, snorted and hissed, like a thing bent on death,
[...] Read more
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Give Your Heart To The Hawks
1 he apples hung until a wind at the equinox,
That heaped the beach with black weed, filled the dry grass
Under the old trees with rosy fruit.
In the morning Fayne Fraser gathered the sound ones into a
basket,
The bruised ones into a pan. One place they lay so thickly
She knelt to reach them.
Her husband's brother passing
Along the broken fence of the stubble-field,
His quick brown eyes took in one moving glance
A little gopher-snake at his feet flowing through the stubble
To gain the fence, and Fayne crouched after apples
With her mop of red hair like a glowing coal
Against the shadow in the garden. The small shapely reptile
Flowed into a thicket of dead thistle-stalks
Around a fence-post, but its tail was not hidden.
The young man drew it all out, and as the coil
Whipped over his wrist, smiled at it; he stepped carefully
Across the sag of the wire. When Fayne looked up
His hand was hidden; she looked over her shoulder
And twitched her sunburnt lips from small white teeth
To answer the spark of malice in his eyes, but turned
To the apples, intent again. Michael looked down
At her white neck, rarely touched by the sun,
But now the cinnabar-colored hair fell off from it;
And her shoulders in the light-blue shirt, and long legs like a boy's
Bare-ankled in blue-jean trousers, the country wear;
He stooped quietly and slipped the small cool snake
Up the blue-denim leg. Fayne screamed and writhed,
Clutching her thigh. 'Michael, you beast.' She stood up
And stroked her leg, with little sharp cries, the slender invader
Fell down her ankle.
Fayne snatched for it and missed;
Michael stood by rejoicing, his rather small
Finely cut features in a dance of delight;
Fayne with one sweep flung at his face
All the bruised and half-spoiled apples in the pan,
[...] Read more
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Sixth Book
THE English have a scornful insular way
Of calling the French light. The levity
Is in the judgment only, which yet stands;
For say a foolish thing but oft enough,
(And here's the secret of a hundred creeds,–
Men get opinions as boys learn to spell,
By re-iteration chiefly) the same thing
Shall pass at least for absolutely wise,
And not with fools exclusively. And so,
We say the French are light, as if we said
The cat mews, or the milch-cow gives us milk:
Say rather, cats are milked, and milch cows mew,
For what is lightness but inconsequence,
Vague fluctuation 'twixt effect and cause,
Compelled by neither? Is a bullet light,
That dashes from the gun-mouth, while the eye
Winks, and the heart beats one, to flatten itself
To a wafer on the white speck on a wall
A hundred paces off? Even so direct,
So sternly undivertible of aim,
Is this French people.
All idealists
Too absolute and earnest, with them all
The idea of a knife cuts real flesh;
And still, devouring the safe interval
Which Nature placed between the thought and act,
They threaten conflagration to the world
And rush with most unscrupulous logic on
Impossible practice. Set your orators
To blow upon them with loud windy mouths
Through watchword phrases, jest or sentiment,
Which drive our burley brutal English mobs
Like so much chaff, whichever way they blow,–
This light French people will not thus be driven.
They turn indeed; but then they turn upon
Some central pivot of their thought and choice,
And veer out by the force of holding fast.
–That's hard to understand, for Englishmen
Unused to abstract questions, and untrained
To trace the involutions, valve by valve,
In each orbed bulb-root of a general truth,
And mark what subtly fine integument
Divides opposed compartments. Freedom's self
Comes concrete to us, to be understood,
Fixed in a feudal form incarnately
To suit our ways of thought and reverence,
The special form, with us, being still the thing.
With us, I say, though I'm of Italy
My mother's birth and grave, by father's grave
And memory; let it be,–a poet's heart
[...] Read more
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Thurso’s Landing
I
The coast-road was being straightened and repaired again,
A group of men labored at the steep curve
Where it falls from the north to Mill Creek. They scattered and hid
Behind cut banks, except one blond young man
Who stooped over the rock and strolled away smiling
As if he shared a secret joke with the dynamite;
It waited until he had passed back of a boulder,
Then split its rock cage; a yellowish torrent
Of fragments rose up the air and the echoes bumped
From mountain to mountain. The men returned slowly
And took up their dropped tools, while a banner of dust
Waved over the gorge on the northwest wind, very high
Above the heads of the forest.
Some distance west of the road,
On the promontory above the triangle
Of glittering ocean that fills the gorge-mouth,
A woman and a lame man from the farm below
Had been watching, and turned to go down the hill. The young
woman looked back,
Widening her violet eyes under the shade of her hand. 'I think
they'll blast again in a minute.'
And the man: 'I wish they'd let the poor old road be. I don't
like improvements.' 'Why not?' 'They bring in the world;
We're well without it.' His lameness gave him some look of age
but he was young too; tall and thin-faced,
With a high wavering nose. 'Isn't he amusing,' she said, 'that
boy Rick Armstrong, the dynamite man,
How slowly he walks away after he lights the fuse. He loves to
show off. Reave likes him, too,'
She added; and they clambered down the path in the rock-face,
little dark specks
Between the great headland rock and the bright blue sea.
II
The road-workers had made their camp
North of this headland, where the sea-cliff was broken down and
sloped to a cove. The violet-eyed woman's husband,
Reave Thurso, rode down the slope to the camp in the gorgeous
autumn sundown, his hired man Johnny Luna
Riding behind him. The road-men had just quit work and four
or five were bathing in the purple surf-edge,
The others talked by the tents; blue smoke fragrant with food
and oak-wood drifted from the cabin stove-pipe
And slowly went fainting up the vast hill.
Thurso drew rein by
a group of men at a tent door
And frowned at them without speaking, square-shouldered and
heavy-jawed, too heavy with strength for so young a man,
He chose one of the men with his eyes. 'You're Danny Woodruff,
[...] Read more
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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The Victories Of Love. Book I
I
From Frederick Graham
Mother, I smile at your alarms!
I own, indeed, my Cousin's charms,
But, like all nursery maladies,
Love is not badly taken twice.
Have you forgotten Charlotte Hayes,
My playmate in the pleasant days
At Knatchley, and her sister, Anne,
The twins, so made on the same plan,
That one wore blue, the other white,
To mark them to their father's sight;
And how, at Knatchley harvesting,
You bade me kiss her in the ring,
Like Anne and all the others? You,
That never of my sickness knew,
Will laugh, yet had I the disease,
And gravely, if the signs are these:
As, ere the Spring has any power,
The almond branch all turns to flower,
Though not a leaf is out, so she
The bloom of life provoked in me;
And, hard till then and selfish, I
Was thenceforth nought but sanctity
And service: life was mere delight
In being wholly good and right,
As she was; just, without a slur;
Honouring myself no less than her;
Obeying, in the loneliest place,
Ev'n to the slightest gesture, grace
Assured that one so fair, so true,
He only served that was so too.
For me, hence weak towards the weak,
No more the unnested blackbird's shriek
Startled the light-leaved wood; on high
Wander'd the gadding butterfly,
Unscared by my flung cap; the bee,
Rifling the hollyhock in glee,
Was no more trapp'd with his own flower,
And for his honey slain. Her power,
From great things even to the grass
Through which the unfenced footways pass,
Was law, and that which keeps the law,
Cherubic gaiety and awe;
Day was her doing, and the lark
Had reason for his song; the dark
In anagram innumerous spelt
Her name with stars that throbb'd and felt;
[...] Read more
poem by Coventry Patmore
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[9] O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
[LOVE POEMS]
POET: MAHENDRA BHATNAGAR
POEMS
1 Passion And Compassion / 1
2 Affection
3 Willing To Live
4 Passion And Compassion / 2
5 Boon
6 Remembrance
7 Pretext
8 To A Distant Person
9 Perception
10 Conclusion
10 You (1)
11 Symbol
12 You (2)
13 In Vain
14 One Night
15 Suddenly
16 Meeting
17 Touch
18 Face To Face
19 Co-Traveller
20 Once And Once only
21 Touchstone
22 In Chorus
23 Good Omens
24 Even Then
25 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (1)
26 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (2)
27 Life Aspirant
28 To The Condemned Woman
29 A Submission
30 At Midday
31 I Accept
32 Who Are You?
33 Solicitation
34 Accept Me
35 Again After Ages …
36 Day-Dreaming
37 Who Are You?
38 You Embellished In Song
[...] Read more
poem by Mahendra Bhatnagar
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Dont Lets Talk About Lisa
(don henry/benmont tench)
Dont lets talk about lisa
Dont lets even start
Lets leave lisa out of this one
Lisa broke my heart
Gwendolyn was splendid, but her tendency to spending
Spun a little out of control
Two nights on the town and
My poor bank account was crawling around on the floor
And pretty young alicia, she could take a piece of your heart
And lead you to the light
Lucy, melinda, loretta and lucinda
We could go on all night but
Dont lets talk about lisa
Dont lets even start
Lets leave lisa out of this one
Lisa broke my heart
Priscilla was a killer, meaner than godzilla
But oh what a pretty girl and
Dawn in the dawn with her pom-poms on
She could twirl like a tilt-a-whirl
Theres wonderful women all over the world
Ive said it again and again
But she whose name must not be spoken
Has it all over all of them so
Dont lets talk about lisa
Dont lets even start
Lets leave lisa out of this one
Lisa broke my heart
You can talk about the weather
Cotton or leather
And do you think the beatles
Shoulda really gotten back together
Talk about the truth
Mantle or ruth
Fabio, dimaggio or john wilkes boothe
Dont lets talk about lisa
Dont lets even start no, no
Dont lets talk about lisa please sir
Lisa broke my heart
Oh lisa shes off limits man
Lisa broke my heart
You can talk about hanson, marilyn manson
And do you think theyll ever have a show down in branson
Talk about desire, sosa or mcgwire
And is we in the fryin pan or is we in the fire
Talk about whats real and what you really feel
And hows about those mini skirts on ally mcbeal
Talk about the x-files, macaroons and mistrails
And did you ever snag your jacket pocket on a turnstyle
song performed by Lonestar
Added by Lucian Velea
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