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Koi - A Cinquain

Koi

Ever so small

Swimming in languid grace

Amidst beautiful lotus

Blissful

poem by Sheri Hockman
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I Go Swimming

Ooh, I go swimming, swimming in the water
Swimming in the river, swimming in the sea
I go swimming
I go swimming, swimming in the water
Swimming in the pool, swimming is cool
I go swimming
The sun is burning, I am yearning
For the waterflow (waterflow)
Next to my skin i, like to begin a
Waterflow (waterflow)
Letting off steam I float in a dream,
I cant let go (cant let go)
Follow my wishes, follow the fishes
Down below (down below)
I go swimming
I need water, water to drink
Water on my brain, water sustain,
Water over me
I want water, water I need
Water to think, water to drink
Water over me
The sun is burning, I am yearning
For the waterflow (waterflow)
Next to my skin i, like to begin a
Waterflow (waterflow)
Letting off steam I float in a dream,
I cant let go (cant let go)
Follow my wishes, follow the fishes
Down below (down below)
I go swimming
I go swimming, I go swimming
Swimming in water, swimming in water, swimming in water
Water all over me
Swimming in water, swimming in water, swimming in water
I go swimming, I go swimming
I go swimming, I go swimming
Swimming, I go swimming
Oh I go swimming, I go swimming
Water all over me
Swimming in water, swimming in water, swimming in water
Water all over me
Swimming in water, swimming in water, swimming in water
Water all over me
Swimming in water, swimming in water, swimming in water
Water all over me

song performed by Peter Gabriel
Added by Lucian Velea
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Thoughts Of A Goldfish

I am a goldfish; I am swimming around this bowl. It is getting dizzy.

A goldfish I am; It is getting dizzy. Swimming around this bowl I am.
Am I a goldfish? I am swimming around this bowl. It is getting dizzy.
It is getting dizzy, swimming around this bowl, I am a goldfish. I am.
Around this bowl I am swimming. It is getting dizzy. I am a goldfish
I am a goldfish. It is getting dizzy around this bowl, I am swimming.
I am swimming around this bowl; I am a goldfish. It is getting dizzy.
Around this bowl, it is getting dizzy. I am a goldfish; I am swimming.
I am a goldfish. It is getting dizzy. I am swimming around this bowl.
I am a goldfish. Bowl this around: it is getting dizzy. I am swimming.
I am swimming around this bowl. Am I a goldfish? It is getting dizzy.
Am I a goldfish bowl? It is getting dizzy. Am I swimming around this?
It is getting dizzy. I am a goldfish. Am I swimming around this bowl?
Am I a goldfish? Around this bowl am I swimming? It is getting dizzy.
Am I a goldfish? I am. It is getting dizzy, swimming around this bowl.
Am I a goldfish? It is getting dizzy. I am swimming around this bowl.
Am I a goldfish swimming? Around this bowl, I am. It is getting dizzy.
Am I a goldfish? It is getting dizzy. Around this bowl I am swimming.
Am I swimming? I am a goldfish around this bowl. It is getting dizzy.
Am I swimming? Is it getting dizzy? Around this bowl I am a goldfish.
It is getting dizzy. Am I swimming? Am I a goldfish around this bowl?
Am I a-swimming? I am a round goldfish. This bowl, it is getting dizzy.
This bowl: It is getting dizzy. I am a goldfish I am swimming around.
Am I a bowl? It is getting dizzy. I am a goldfish swimming around this.
It is getting dizzy. Am I a round bowl? I am this goldfish a-swimming.
I am a goldfish I am swimming around. Is this bowl getting dizzy? It is.
Is it? I am getting a goldfish. I am swimming around this dizzy bowl.
I am. I am swimming around this goldfish bowl. Dizzy it is a-getting.
I am a dizzy goldfish swimming. I am a round bowl. Is it getting this?
Is this bowl around a dizzy, swimming goldfish? I am. I am getting it.
Is this getting dizzy? Am I a round goldfish? Am I a swimming bowl?

I am a goldfish; I am swimming around this bowl. It is getting dizzy.

poem by C. Richard Miles
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Beautiful

The most beautiful girl in the world
Beautiful
Beautiful
Beautiful
(beautiful)
Beau - beau
Could u be
The most beautiful girl in the world
Its plain 2 see
Ure the reason that God made a girl
When the day turns into the last day of all time
I can say, I hope that u are in these arms of mine (oh yeah) (beautiful)
When the night falls before that day I will cry
I will cry tears of joy cause after u all one can do is die (oh yeah)
Could u be
The most beautiful girl in the world (beautiful)
Its plain 2 see
Ure the reason that God made a girl (beautiful)
How can I get through days when I cant get through hours
(tick tock u dont stop, tick tock u dont stop)
I can try but when I do I see u and Im devoured
Oh yes
Whod allow, whod allow a face 2 be as soft as a flower (oh yeah)
(beautiful)
I could bow and feel proud in the light of this power
Oh yeah (beautiful)
Could u be
The most beautiful girl in the world (beautiful)
Its plain 2 see
Ure the reason that God made a girl (beautiful)
Oh yes u are
(beautiful)
Beautiful beautiful
(beautiful)
Beautiful beautiful
(beautiful)
Beautiful beautiful
(beautiful)
(beautiful)
And when the stars fall one by one from the sky
I know mars could not be 2 far behind
Cuz baby, this kind of beauty has got no reason 2 ever be shy
Cuz honey this kind of beauty is the kind that comes from inside
Could u be (could u be)
The most beautiful girl in the world
So beautiful, beautiful (beautiful)
Its plain 2 see (its plain 2 see)
Ure the reason that God made a girl (beautiful) (ooh yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Could u be
Beautiful (beautiful) (oh yeah)

[...] Read more

song performed by Prince
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Namankaran

Gumnam se is rishtey ka
Koi nam rakha jaye
Ho kar bhi jo hai nahi
Is aahsase khas ko
Koi takht diya jaye.

Nadiyo ke milne ko
Kahte hai sangam
Sapno ke Milan ko Bhi
koi nam diya jaye.
Ho kar bhi jo hai nahi
Is aahsase khas ko
Koi takht diya jaye.

Khuli aakho se dekhe
To kahlaye vastav
Bandh aakho se dekhe
To kahlaye khabb
Khuli aakho se dekhe
Khabbo ka bhi
Koi nam diya jaaye
Ho kar bhi jo hai nahi
Is aahsase khas ko
Koi takht diya jaye.

Kuch gaam aakho ko rulaye
Kuch dil ko dahlaye
Kuch rooho ko hilaye
Jo gam dukhakar bhi bhaye
Un gamo ka aalag kuch
Koi nam rakha jaye
Ho kar bhi jo hai nahi
Is aahsase khas ko
Koi takht diya jaye.

Tan ke Milan
Aur man ke Milan
Ke to hai laakho nam
Rooho ke Milan ka bhi chalo
Koi nam rakha jaye
Ho kar bhi jo hai nahi
Is aahsase khas ko
Koi takht diya jaye.

poem by Anjali Kakati
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Pearl

Pearl of delight that a prince doth please
To grace in gold enclosed so clear,
I vow that from over orient seas
Never proved I any in price her peer.
So round, so radiant ranged by these,
So fine, so smooth did her sides appear
That ever in judging gems that please
Her only alone I deemed as dear.
Alas! I lost her in garden near:
Through grass to the ground from me it shot;
I pine now oppressed by love-wound drear
For that pearl, mine own, without a spot.

2
Since in that spot it sped from me,
I have looked and longed for that precious thing
That me once was wont from woe to free,
To uplift my lot and healing bring,
But my heart doth hurt now cruelly,
My breast with burning torment sting.
Yet in secret hour came soft to me
The sweetest song I e'er heard sing;
Yea, many a thought in mind did spring
To think that her radiance in clay should rot.
O mould! Thou marrest a lovely thing,
My pearl, mine own, without a spot.

3
In that spot must needs be spices spread
Where away such wealth to waste hath run;
Blossoms pale and blue and red
There shimmer shining in the sun;
No flower nor fruit their hue may shed
Where it down into darkling earth was done,
For all grass must grow from grains that are dead,
No wheat would else to barn be won.
From good all good is ever begun,
And fail so fair a seed could not,
So that sprang and sprouted spices none
From that precious pearl without a spot.

4
That spot whereof I speak I found
When I entered in that garden green,
As August's season high came round
When corn is cut with sickles keen.
There, where that pearl rolled down, a mound
With herbs was shadowed fair and sheen,
With gillyflower, ginger, and gromwell crowned,
And peonies powdered all between.

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Saza De Do

Jo khata hum ne ki
Tum mujhe chalo
Koi saja de do
Ya
Jee saku phir se
Koi mujhe vajah de do.

Na to jeete hai, na marte hai
Tum mere marj ki
Koi dava de do
YaTo
oodh lete hai kafan
Koi aase dua de do.

Sas lete hai to
Aah nikalti hai
Rokte hai to
Jaan nikalti hai
Saso ke is anban ki
Koi sulah kara do
Ya to
Sase hi na rahe
Koi jaadoo chala do

Sarpat bhagi jaati hai jindagi
Dil ke dhadkanoo se
Thoda susta loo
Koi Kinara de do
YaTo
Thahar jaye tere he dar par
Thoda sahara de do.

Thak gaye hai
Deewaro par dastak de de kar
Ek darwaja tum tak khule
Koi rasta bata do
Ya to
deeware he na rahe
Thodi takat laga do.

Jo khata hum ne ki
Tum mujhe chalo
Koi saja de do.
-anjali

poem by Anjali Kakati
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The Zenana

WHAT is there that the world hath not
Gathered in yon enchanted spot?
Where, pale, and with a languid eye,
The fair Sultana listlessly
Leans on her silken couch, and dreams
Of mountain airs, and mountain streams.
Sweet though the music float around,
It wants the old familiar sound;

And fragrant though the flowers are breathing,
From far and near together wreathing,
They are not those she used to wear,
Upon the midnight of her hair.—

She's very young, and childhood's days
With all their old remembered ways,
The empire of her heart contest
With love, that is so new a guest;
When blushing with her Murad near,
Half timid bliss, half sweetest fear,
E'en the beloved past is dim,
Past, present, future, merge in him.
But he, the warrior and the chief,
His hours of happiness are brief;
And he must leave Nadira's side
To woo and win a ruder bride;

Sought, sword in hand and spur on heel,
The fame, that weds with blood and steel.
And while from Delhi far away,
His youthful bride pines through the day,
Weary and sad: thus when again
He seeks to bind love's loosen'd chain;
He finds the tears are scarcely dry
Upon a cheek whose bloom is faded,
The very flush of victory
Is, like the brow he watches, shaded.
A thousand thoughts are at her heart,
His image paramount o'er all,
Yet not all his, the tears that start,
As mournful memories recall
Scenes of another home, which yet
That fond young heart can not forget.
She thinks upon that place of pride,
Which frowned upon the mountain's side;

While round it spread the ancient plain,
Her steps will never cross again.
And near those mighty temples stand,
The miracles of mortal hand,

[...] Read more

poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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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;

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poem by Coventry Patmore
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Saint Shirdi Sai Baba!

Ek Santh aisa Shirdi mein hai bassa
Chaha na kuch Apna, banaya sab ko Apna
SAI RAM, SAI SHYAM, SAI BANAYE BIGADE KAAM
Na koi uncha, na koi neecha, na koi aamir, na koi gharib
Na koi Hindu hai, Na koi musalmaan hai, Na koi aur dharm ka hai
Sab ek hai Uske Nazar mein, Bas pyar aur vishwas ho saath
Jo Sai ko maante hai, woh yeh baat jaante hai, maante hai
Pyar se phir sar pe humare rakhenge Sai Apna Haath
Kushiyon ka hoga barsaat.

Shirdi is blessed by this Saint's presence
Shirdi Sai Baba, the guiding spirit of love
He helps those who seek Him
He resides in every heart that loves Him
Sai is Ram, Sai is Shyam, Sai is EkNaam
Sai Resolves all problems
Nobody is rich, Nobody is poor, Nobody is high, Nobody is low
Nobody is a Hindu, Nobody is Muslim, Nobody is of any other religion
Everybody is the same in His Eyes, as long as they have love and faith
Those who have faith in Him know this, follow this
He smilingly places His Hand on us and blesses us with eternal bliss.

poem by Manjeshwari P MYSORE
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The Birth of The War-God (Canto Seventh ) - Uma''s Bridal

In light and glory dawned the expected day
Blest with a kindly star's auspicious ray,
When gaily gathered at Himálaya's call
His kinsmen to the solemn festival.
Through the broad city every dame's awake
To grace the bridal for her monarch's sake;
So great their love for him, this single care
Makes one vast household of the thousands there.
Heaven is not brighter than the royal street
Where flowers lie scattered 'neath the nobles' feet,
And banners waving to the breeze unfold
Their silken broidery over gates of gold.
And she, their child, upon her bridal day
Bears her dear parents' every thought away.
So, when from distant shores a friend returns,
With deeper love each inmost spirit burns.
So, when grim Death restores his prey again
Joy brighter shines from memory of pain.
Each noble matron of Himálaya's race
Folds his dear Umá in a long embrace,
Pours blessings on her head, and prays her take
Some priceless jewel for her friendship's sake.
With sweetest influence a star of power
Had joined the spotted moon: at that blest hour
To deck fair Umá many a noble dame
And many a gentle maid assiduous came.
And well she graced their toil, more brightly fair
With feathery grass and wild flowers in her hair.
A silken robe flowed free below her waist;
Her sumptuous head a glittering arrow graced.
So shines the young unclouded moon at last,
Greeting the sun, its darksome season past.
Sweet-scented Lodhra dust and Sandal dyed
The delicate beauties of the fair young bride,
Veiled with a soft light robe. Her tiring-girls
Then led her to a chamber decked with pearls
And paved with sapphires, where the lulling sound
Of choicest music breathed divinely round.
There o'er the lady's limbs they poured by turns
Streams of pure water from their golden urns.
Fresh from the cooling bath the lovely maid
In fairest white her tender form arrayed.
So opens the Kása all her shining flowers
Lured from their buds by softly falling showers.
Then to a court with canopies o'erhead
A crowd of noble dames the maiden led—
A court for solemn rites, where gems and gold
Adorn the pillars that the roof uphold.
There on a couch they set her with her face
Turned toward the east. So lovely then the grace

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poem by Kalidasa
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Purgatory

Beautiful people - got their beautiful lives - got their
Beautiful husbands - got their beautiful wives - got their
Beautiful bankers - got their beautiful lawyers
All things bright and beautiful
The beautiful people are sent to destroy us
Beautiful people - got their beautiful kids - got their
Beautiful schools where the beautiful other half live - got their
Beautiful futures in their beautiful professions
All things bright and beautiful
The beautiful people got the money for the lessons
I'm living in purgatory - I know what purgatory is
This ain't no sanctuary - This ain't no way to live
You gotta have a sense of humour - you gotta know how to laugh at it
Cos, I'm living in Purgatory 'n anything's better than this
Beautiful people got their beautiful clothes - got their
Beautiful mansions - down their beautiful country roads - got their
Beautiful Doctors - in their beautiful surgeries
All things bright and beautiful
The beautiful people like a little privacy
I'm living in purgatory - I know what purgatory is
This ain't no sanctuary - This ain't no way to live
You gotta have a sense of humour - you gotta know how to laugh at it
Cos, I'm living in Purgatory 'n anything's better than this
Beautiful losers on their beautiful estates got their
beautiful job centres on the beautiful welfare wait and wait
Beautiful dreamers - out of their beautiful skulls
All things are bright and beautiful
As long as they're beautiful, people stay beautiful.
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
I'm living in purgatory - I know what purgatory is
This ain't no sanctuary - This ain't no way to live
You gotta have a sense of humour - you gotta know how to lau

song performed by Ian Hunter
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Court Of Love

With timerous hert and trembling hand of drede,
Of cunning naked, bare of eloquence,
Unto the flour of port in womanhede
I write, as he that non intelligence
Of metres hath, ne floures of sentence;
Sauf that me list my writing to convey,
In that I can to please her hygh nobley.

The blosmes fresshe of Tullius garden soote
Present thaim not, my mater for to borne:
Poemes of Virgil taken here no rote,
Ne crafte of Galfrid may not here sojorne:
Why nam I cunning? O well may I morne,
For lak of science that I can-not write
Unto the princes of my life a-right

No termes digne unto her excellence,
So is she sprong of noble stirpe and high:
A world of honour and of reverence
There is in her, this wil I testifie.
Calliope, thou sister wise and sly,
And thou, Minerva, guyde me with thy grace,
That langage rude my mater not deface.

Thy suger-dropes swete of Elicon
Distill in me, thou gentle Muse, I pray;
And thee, Melpomene, I calle anon,
Of ignoraunce the mist to chace away;
And give me grace so for to write and sey,
That she, my lady, of her worthinesse,
Accepte in gree this litel short tretesse,

That is entitled thus, 'The Court of Love.'
And ye that ben metriciens me excuse,
I you besech, for Venus sake above;
For what I mene in this ye need not muse:
And if so be my lady it refuse
For lak of ornat speche, I wold be wo,
That I presume to her to writen so.

But myn entent and all my besy cure
Is for to write this tretesse, as I can,
Unto my lady, stable, true, and sure,
Feithfull and kind, sith first that she began
Me to accept in service as her man:

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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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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Lotus

(buck/mills/stipe)
I was hell
Sarcastic silver swell
That day it rained
Tough spun. hard won. no
Ocean flower aquarium
Badlands. give a hand
Honey dipt. flim flam
Hey hey. hey hey
That cat can walk like a big bad man
So happy to show us
I ate the lotus
Say havent you noticed?
I ate the lotus
Storefront window, I reflect
Just last week I was merely heck
Tip the scale. I was hell
Picked me up, then I fell
Whos this stranger? crowbar spine
Da, da, da, and I feel fine
Let it rain, rain, rain (rain)
Bring my happy back again
So happy to show us
I ate the lotus
Say havent you noticed?
I ate the lotus
I ate the lotus
Let it rain, rain, rain (rain)
Save me from myself again
Wash away my ugly sins
Opposing thumb, dorsal fin
That monkey died for my grin
Bring my happy back again
Let it rain (rain), rain, rain (rain)
Bring my happy back again
So happy to show us
I ate the lotus
Say havent you noticed?
I ate the lotus
I ate the lotus
I ate the lotus
I ate the lotus

song performed by REM
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Birth of The War-God (Canto Fifth ) - Uma's Reward

Now woe to Umá, for young Love is slain,
Her Lord hath left her, and her hope is vain.
Woe, woe to Umá! how the Mountain-Maid
Cursed her bright beauty for its feeble aid!
'Tis Beauty's guerdon which she loves the best,
To bless her lover, and in turn be blest.
Penance must aid her now—or how can she
Win the cold heart of that stern deity?
Penance, long penance: for that power alone
Can make such love, so high a Lord, her own.
But, ah! how troubled was her mother's brow
At the sad tidings of the mourner's vow!
She threw her arms around her own dear maid,
Kissed, fondly kissed her, sighed, and wept, and prayed:
'Are there no Gods, my child, to love thee here?
Frail is thy body, yet thy vow severe.
The lily, by the wild bee scarcely stirred,
Bends, breaks, and dies beneath the weary bird.'
Fast fell her tears, her prayer was strong, but still
That prayer was weaker than her daughter's will.
Who can recall the torrent's headlong force,
Or the bold spirit in its destined course?
She sent a maiden to her sire, and prayed
He for her sake would grant some bosky shade,
That she might dwell in solitude, and there
Give all her soul to penance and to prayer.
In gracious love the great Himálaya smiled,
And did the bidding of his darling child.
Then to that hill which peacocks love she came,
Known to all ages by the lady's name.
Still to her purpose resolutely true,
Her string of noble pearls aside she threw,
Which, slipping here and there, had rubbed away
The sandal dust that on her bosom lay,
And clad her in a hermit coat of bark,
Rough to her gentle limbs, and gloomy dark,
Pressing too tightly, till her swelling breast
Broke into freedom through the unwonted vest.
Her matted hair was full as lovely now
As when 'twas braided o'er her polished brow.
Thus the sweet beauties of the lotus shine
When bees festoon it in a graceful line;
And, though the tangled weeds that crown the rill
Cling o'er it closely, it is lovely still.
With zone of grass the votaress was bound,
Which reddened the fair form it girdled round:
Never before the lady's waist had felt
The ceaseless torment of so rough a belt.
Alas! her weary vow has caused to fade
The lovely colours that adorned the maid.

[...] Read more

poem by Kalidasa
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Tumhi Me Hai Jo Basa

Na jaane umar bhar kya dhundh rahe the?
Na jaane tum me kya mil gaya,
Koi naam, koi pata hota toh
Shayad,
Jaan hi lete…
Koi nak-naksh hota toh
Shayad,
Pehchan batate..
Voh jo bas tum me hai
Sirf tum me.
Ha…tumhi me hai voh basa.
Humari nazaro ko hai pata
Shayad,
mann ki kisi gahrayee meiHai chipa
uske astitva ka naksha.
Dikhta hai sirf hume hi jo,
Kaash,
Tumhe bhi dikha paate voh wajah.
Phir shayad,
Tumko nahi lagta
Youn tumpar humara mar mitna,
Koi julm, ek khata.
Par afsos,
Koi nak naksh nahi hai
Koi naam paata tak nahi hai
Uska,
Jo basta sirf tum me hai,
Aur dikhta sirf hume hai
Na jaane us tak pahuchta hai
Kaha se…koun sa raasta…

poem by Anjali Kakati
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Beautiful Music

Before I knew that I was blessed
When I was just like the rest of the people
Who never let dreams in their minds
Music would play and say
Maybe you're wastin' your time
Before I knew what good could be
When I couldn't see the need or the reason
For trusting in me or my star
Music would play and say
Hey, what a dummy you are!
And when I heard all the words about passion
Singin' to me about love of a fashion
That I never heard anywhere else
That's when I said,
"Gotta get some of that for myself"
And when I heard about hurtin' and healin'
Beautiful words about beautiful feelings
What lots of believin' could do
Beautiful music, I knew it just had to be true
You're beautiful
Beautiful Music
Beautiful Music
Beautiful Music
Beautiful Music
Beautiful Music
Before I saw my life in lights
When I couldn't taste the nights I was missin'
I'd listen alone in my bed
And music would sing to me
Things no one else even said
And when I heard all the words about passion
Singin' to me about love of a fashion
That I never heard anywhere else
That's when I said,
"Gotta get some of that for myself"
And when I heard about hurtin' and healin'
Beautiful words about beautiful feelings
What lots of believin' could do
Beautiful music, I knew it just had to be true
You're beautiful
Beautiful Music
Beautiful Music
Beautiful Music
Beautiful Music
Beautiful Music
Beautiful, Beautiful Music
Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful Music
Beautiful, Beautiful Music
Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful Music
Beautiful, Beautiful Music

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song performed by Barry Manilow
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 19

Thus I awaked and wroot what I hadde ydremed,
And dighte me derely, and dide me to chirche,
To here holly the masse and to be housled after.
In myddes of the masse, tho men yede to offryng,
I fel eftsoones aslepe - and sodeynly me mette
That Piers the Plowman was peynted al blody,
And com in with a cros bifore the comune peple,
And right lik in alle lymes to Oure Lord Jesu.
And thanne called I Conscience to kenne me the sothe
'Is this Jesus the justere,' quod I, 'that Jewes dide to dethe?
Or it is Piers the Plowman! Who peynted hym so rede?'
Quod Conscience, and kneled tho, ' Thise arn Piers armes -
Hise colours and his cote armure; ac he that cometh so blody
Is Crist with his cros, conquerour of Cristene.'
'Why calle ye hym Crist?' quod I, 'sithen Jewes called hym Jesus?
Patriarkes and prophetes prophecied bifore
That alle kynne creatures sholden knelen and bowen
Anoon as men nempned the name of God Jesu.
Ergo is no name to the name of Jesus,
Ne noon so nedeful to nempne by nyghte ne by daye.
For alle derke develes arn adrad to heren it,
And synfulle aren solaced and saved by that name;
And ye callen hym Crist; for what cause, telleth me?
Is Crist moore of myght and moore worthi name
Than Jesu or Jesus, that al oure joye com of?'
'Thow knowest wel,' quod Conscience, 'and thow konne reson,
That knyght, kyng, conquerour may be o persone.
To be called a knyght is fair, for men shul knele to hym;
To be called a kyng is fairer, for he may knyghtes make;
Ac to be conquerour called, that cometh of special grace,
And of hardynesse of herte and of hendemesse -
To make lordes of laddes, of lond that he wynneth,
And fre men foule thralles, that folwen noght hise lawes.

'The Jewes, that were gentil men, Jesu thei despised -
Bothe his loore and his lawe; now are thei lowe cherles.
As wide as the world is, wonyeth ther noon
But under tribut and taillage as tikes and cherles;
And tho that bicome Cristene bi counseil of the Baptiste
Aren frankeleyns, free men thorugh fullynge that thei toke
And gentil men with Jesu - for Jesus was yfulled
And upon Calvarie on cros ycrouned kyng of Jewes.
' It bicometh to a kyng to kepe and to defende,
And conqueror of his conquest hise lawes and his large.
And so dide Jesus the Jewes - he justified and taughte hem
The lawe of lif that laste shal evere,
And fended from foule yveles, feveres and fiuxes,
And from fendes that in hem was, and false bileve.
Tho was he Jesus of Jewes called, gentile prophete,
And kyng of hir kyngdom, and croune bar of thornes.

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poem by William Langland
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The Victories Of Love. Book II

I
From Jane To Her Mother

Thank Heaven, the burthens on the heart
Are not half known till they depart!
Although I long'd, for many a year,
To love with love that casts out fear,
My Frederick's kindness frighten'd me,
And heaven seem'd less far off than he;
And in my fancy I would trace
A lady with an angel's face,
That made devotion simply debt,
Till sick with envy and regret,
And wicked grief that God should e'er
Make women, and not make them fair.
That he might love me more because
Another in his memory was,
And that my indigence might be
To him what Baby's was to me,
The chief of charms, who could have thought?
But God's wise way is to give nought
Till we with asking it are tired;
And when, indeed, the change desired
Comes, lest we give ourselves the praise,
It comes by Providence, not Grace;
And mostly our thanks for granted pray'rs
Are groans at unexpected cares.
First Baby went to heaven, you know,
And, five weeks after, Grace went, too.
Then he became more talkative,
And, stooping to my heart, would give
Signs of his love, which pleased me more
Than all the proofs he gave before;
And, in that time of our great grief,
We talk'd religion for relief;
For, though we very seldom name
Religion, we now think the same!
Oh, what a bar is thus removed
To loving and to being loved!
For no agreement really is
In anything when none's in this.
Why, Mother, once, if Frederick press'd
His wife against his hearty breast,
The interior difference seem'd to tear
My own, until I could not bear
The trouble. 'Twas a dreadful strife,
And show'd, indeed, that faith is life.
He never felt this. If he did,
I'm sure it could not have been hid;
For wives, I need not say to you,

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poem by Coventry Patmore
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Healthy Back Bag

animated bag of chips
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allowed to carry on garment bag
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alternative to plastic trash bags
amish buggy bag
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altieri bags

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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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