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Midnight In The Park

Real life may not be a whirlwind romance.
Real life may not be running off to a hidden cabin.
Real life may not be a Cinderella fairy tail.

For me real life may not be for very long at all.
For me a kiss in the moonlight is truly magical.
I can live an entire lifetime of romance in one evening.

For a few brief hours I can be content in real life.
For a few brief hours, real life is holding hands
at midnight walking in a park.

Then we part ways again, but we had midnight in the park.

poem by Atsiylah Atty Garfinkel
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Banquet Of Love

I once heard these words in a song;
'You must remember this...a kiss is
just a kiss...a sigh is just a sigh, ' etc.

With you...nothing...nothing, could be
further from the truth.

Your kiss, is a ride among the stars,
a shower of moon beams and a
sailboat ride, in the Garden Of Eden.

Kissing you...is an out of body experience,
a transport to paradise and a creation
of ultimate passion and joy.

Kissing, every part of who you are, is
truly a banquet of love.

Let me feast of your love and of your lips,
for I am in love with you. Let me always
kiss your mouth...eyes...all of you.

Let us ride the feathers of angels, through
starlit nights-holding...kissing, for now...
and evermore.

Your kiss...touch...embrace, has captured
my heart...my very soul.

I send you this kiss...for the lips
I can not do without.

*Kiss*............*Kiss*
*Kiss *..........Kiss*
*Kiss*......Kiss*
*Kiss*.. .*Kiss*
*Kiss*.*Kiss*
*Kiss*......*Kiss*
*Kiss*........*Kiss*
*Kiss*............*Kiss*
*Kiss*...............*Kiss*

.........* Kiss*
.........*Kiss*
.........*Kiss*
.. .......*Kiss*
.........*Kiss*
.........*Kis s*
.........*Kiss*
.........*Kiss*

[...] Read more

poem by Joe Fazio
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Kisses For You...

I once heard these words in a song;
'You must remember this...a kiss is
just a kiss...a sigh is just a sigh, ' etc.

With you...nothing...nothing, could be
further from the truth.

Your kiss, is a ride among the stars,
a shower of moon beams and a
sailboat ride, in the Garden Of Eden.

Kissing you...is an out of body experience,
a transport to paradise and a creation
of ultimate passion and joy.

Kissing, every part of who you are, is
truly a banquet of love.

Let me feast of your love and of your lips,
for I am in love with you. Let me always
kiss your mouth...eyes...all of you.

Let us ride the feathers of angels, through
starlit nights-holding...kissing, for now...
and evermore.

Your kiss...touch...embrace, has captured
my heart...my very soul.

I send you this kiss...for the lips
I can not do without.

*Kiss*............*Kiss*
*Kiss *..........Kiss*
*Kiss*......Kiss*
*Kiss*.. .*Kiss*
*Kiss*.*Kiss*
*Kiss*......*Kiss*
*Kiss*........*Kiss*
*Kiss*............*Kiss*
*Kiss*...............*Kiss*

.........* Kiss*
.........*Kiss*
.........*Kiss*
.. .......*Kiss*
.........*Kiss*
.........*Kis s*
.........*Kiss*
.........*Kiss*

[...] Read more

poem by Joe Fazio
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Romance Bore Seduction

Hand blessed hand, caressed.
A blushing rose, her face;
Her breast alive;
The elfin nose, a diamond set -
A kiss upon perfection

Bore a rise of pulse
To coach a sultry moan
Across a mellow breath of wine.
He knew; he sensed,
And easing loose a clasp of lace,
Another sign of her relenting:
Wild the play of eyes,
A fuller glide of skin;

He felt the now begin -
Her swell, intention in the sigh.

And so to hedge his move upon the cue -
The cry of deep anticipation,
Waxing all he saw -
Tho' not for us to view -
Arrived, emotion raw.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011

[...] Read more

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Keep On Running

Some gonna get you
Some gonna grab you
Some gonna jump out of the bushes and grab you
Whole lotta folks, you better run faster.
Some gonna grab you
Some gonna jump out of the bushes and grab you
Some gonna grab you
Oh you need this thing to grab you, ha.
Yea, yea
Keep on running
Keep on running from my love
Keep on running, yea
Keep on running from my love
Some folks say that youre really, really fine,
All you want to be is just a friend of mine,
But I know, the man your with gonna break your heart,
And youll be sad real soon, yea.
Keep on running,
Keep on running from my love,
Keep on running, yea,
Keep on running from my love.
Some folks say that youre really, really fine
But all you want to be is just a friend of mine,
But I know Im gonna get you with him -real soon.
Why do you keep?
Keep on running, running from my love
Yea, keep on running from
Keep on running, running from my love
I need you baby
Keep on running, running from my love
And everyday yea,
Keep on running, running from my love. oh
Keep on running
Keep on running from my love
Keep on running yea
Keep on running from my love
Some folks say that your love is really good
All you want to be is just a friend of mine,
But I know, Im gonna get you in the end
cause I need you so
Keep on running
Keep on running, running from my love
Yea, keep on running baby
Keep on running, running from my love, yea
Keep on running, running from my love
Keep on running, running from my love
...say it loud
Keep on running, running from my love
Oh, yea
Keep on running, running from my love

[...] Read more

song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cinderella

Written by j. kimball and d. vidal, 1984
Found on perspective.
I was out last night having a ball
And comin home, I wasnt thinkin nothin at all
And there on the sidewalk what did I see
A little glass slipper starin back at me
Cinderella (cinderella)
Well Im not superstitious but Im smarter than I seem
And I knew it was love, if you know what I mean
When I saw that slipper it occurred to me
The shoe fit her and she fit me
Cinderella (cinderella)
Cinderella (cinderella)
When I find her it will be
A fairy tale for her and me
I will never let her go
Cinderella
Now the other girls hold no fascination for me
I just think of her wherever she may be
I will search my whole life through
cause no one else will ever do
Cinderella (cinderella)
Cinderella (cinderella)
When I find her it will be
A fairy tale for her and me
I will never let her go
She will give my heart a home
Until that day Ill be alone
With just a slipper and a dream
Cinderella (cinderella)
Cinderella (cinderella)
Oo (cinderella)
Cinderella (cinderella)

song performed by America
Added by Lucian Velea
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Kiss Me Dear..Part3

Kiss me dear kiss me with lustful.
Kiss me dear kiss me with luxurious.
Kiss me dear kiss me with lyrical.
Kiss me dear kiss me with lovable.

Kiss me dear kiss me with humorous.
Kiss me dear kiss me with hummed.
Kiss me dear kiss me with hugged.
Kiss me dear kiss me with hopeful.
Kiss me dear kiss me with gutsy.
Kiss me dear kiss me with guaranty.
Kiss me dear kiss me with gratified.
Kiss me dear kiss me with graciousness.

Couse your kiss is a consomme.............
It's different taste..........
and i'will needs again...

Kiss me dear kiss me on sunday.
Kiss me dear kiss me on monday.
Kiss me dear kiss me on tuesday.
Kiss me dear kiss me on wednesday.
Kiss me dear kiss me on thursday.
Kiss me dear kiss me on friday.
Kiss me dear kiss me on saturday.

Couse your kiss is my dish everyday.
and i'will needs again.

Kiss me dear kiss me on january.
Kiss me dear kiss me on february.
Kiss me dear kiss me on march.
Kiss me dear kiss me on april.
Kiss me dear kiss me on may.
Kiss me dear kiss me on june.
Kiss me dear kiss me on july.
Kiss me dear kiss me on august.
Kiss me dear kiss me on september.
Kiss me dear kiss me on october.
Kiss me dear kiss me on november.
Kiss me dear kiss me on december.

Couse your kiss is my: every times
every days
every month
and every years.
I'will needs again

poem by Dwi utami
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The Dream

'TWAS summer eve; the changeful beams still play'd
On the fir-bark and through the beechen shade;
Still with soft crimson glow'd each floating cloud;
Still the stream glitter'd where the willow bow'd;
Still the pale moon sate silent and alone,
Nor yet the stars had rallied round her throne;
Those diamond courtiers, who, while yet the West
Wears the red shield above his dying breast,
Dare not assume the loss they all desire,
Nor pay their homage to the fainter fire,
But wait in trembling till the Sun's fair light
Fading, shall leave them free to welcome Night!

So when some Chief, whose name through realms afar
Was still the watchword of succesful war,
Met by the fatal hour which waits for all,
Is, on the field he rallied, forced to fall,
The conquerors pause to watch his parting breath,
Awed by the terrors of that mighty death;
Nor dare the meed of victory to claim,
Nor lift the standard to a meaner name,
Till every spark of soul hath ebb'd away,
And leaves what was a hero, common clay.

Oh! Twilight! Spirit that dost render birth
To dim enchantments; melting Heaven with Earth,
Leaving on craggy hills and rumning streams
A softness like the atmosphere of dreams;
Thy hour to all is welcome! Faint and sweet
Thy light falls round the peasant's homeward feet,
Who, slow returning from his task of toil,
Sees the low sunset gild the cultured soil,
And, tho' such radliance round him brightly glows,
Marks the small spark his cottage window throws.
Still as his heart forestals his weary pace,
Fondly he dreams of each familiar face,
Recalls the treasures of his narrow life,
His rosy children, and his sunburnt wife,

To whom his coming is the chief event
Of simple days in cheerful labour spent.
The rich man's chariot hath gone whirling past,
And those poor cottagers have only cast
One careless glance on all that show of pride,
Then to their tasks turn'd quietly aside;
But him they wait for, him they welcome home,
Fond sentinels look forth to see him come;
The fagot sent for when the fire grew dim,
The frugal meal prepared, are all for him;
For him the watching of that sturdy boy,

[...] Read more

poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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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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Tennants Anster Fair

I.

'TIS the middle watch of a summer's night -
The earth is dark, but the heavens are bright;
Nought is seen in the vault on high
But the moon, and the stars, and the cloudless sky,
And the flood which rolls its milky hue,
A river of light on the welkin blue.
The moon looks down on old Cronest,
She mellows the shades on his shaggy breast,
And seems his huge gray form to throw
In a sliver cone on the wave below;

His sides are broken by spots of shade,
By the walnut bough and the cedar made,
And through their clustering branches dark
Glimmers and dies the fire-fly's spark -
Like starry twinkles that momently break
Through the rifts of the gathering tempest's rack.

II.

The stars are on the moving stream,
And fling, as its ripples gently flow,
A burnished length of wavy beam
In an eel-like, spiral line below;
The winds are whist, and the owl is still,
The bat in the shelvy rock is hid,
And nought is heard on the lonely hill
But the cricket's chirp, and the answer shrill
Of the gauze-winged katy-did;
And the plaint of the wailing whip-poor-will,
Who moans unseen, and ceaseless sings,
Ever a note of wail and wo,
Till morning spreads her rosy wings,
And earth and sky in her glances glow.

III.

'Tis the hour of fairy ban and spell:
The wood-tick has kept the minutes well;
He has counted them all with click and stroke,
Deep in the heart of the mountain oak,
And he has awakened the sentry elve
Who sleeps with him in the haunted tree,
To bid him ring the hour of twelve,
And call the fays to their revelry;
Twelve small strokes on his tinkling bell -
('Twas made of the white snail's pearly shell:- )
"Midnight comes, and all is well!

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poem by Joseph Rodman Drake
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The Culprit Fay

'TIS the middle watch of a summer's night -
The earth is dark, but the heavens are bright;
Nought is seen in the vault on high
But the moon, and the stars, and the cloudless sky,
And the flood which rolls its milky hue,
A river of light on the welkin blue.
The moon looks down on old Cronest,
She mellows the shades on his shaggy breast,
And seems his huge gray form to throw
In a sliver cone on the wave below;

His sides are broken by spots of shade,
By the walnut bough and the cedar made,
And through their clustering branches dark
Glimmers and dies the fire-fly's spark -
Like starry twinkles that momently break
Through the rifts of the gathering tempest's rack.

II.

The stars are on the moving stream,
And fling, as its ripples gently flow,
A burnished length of wavy beam
In an eel-like, spiral line below;
The winds are whist, and the owl is still,
The bat in the shelvy rock is hid,
And nought is heard on the lonely hill
But the cricket's chirp, and the answer shrill
Of the gauze-winged katy-did;
And the plaint of the wailing whip-poor-will,
Who moans unseen, and ceaseless sings,
Ever a note of wail and wo,
Till morning spreads her rosy wings,
And earth and sky in her glances glow.

III.

'Tis the hour of fairy ban and spell:
The wood-tick has kept the minutes well;
He has counted them all with click and stroke,
Deep in the heart of the mountain oak,
And he has awakened the sentry elve
Who sleeps with him in the haunted tree,
To bid him ring the hour of twelve,
And call the fays to their revelry;
Twelve small strokes on his tinkling bell -
('Twas made of the white snail's pearly shell:- )
'Midnight comes, and all is well!
Hither, hither, wing your way!
'Tis the dawn of the fairy day.'

[...] Read more

poem by Joseph Rodman Drake
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Kiss kiss and kiss

Kiss kiss kiss me again*
Afterwards kiss kiss kiss my thoughts*
Then kiss kiss kiss my spirit*

Still kiss kiss kiss my shadow*
Don't forget to kiss kiss kiss my hair*
Repeated again kiss kiss kiss my face*
I'wanted to be kiss kiss kiss by you my brow*

Don't forget to kiss kiss kiss my cheek*
Afterwards kiss kiss kiss ears and my nose*
I'will like if being kiss kiss kiss by you my heart*

More kiss kiss kiss my lips*
Don't forget kiss kiss kiss with the love*
Repeated still kiss kiss kiss in the hope that we *
I'wanted to be kiss kiss kiss by you before i'slept*

I'hoped was kiss kiss kiss by you when i'opened the eyes and got up from my dream*

I'will like if being kiss kiss kiss by you my wish*
Don't forget kiss kiss kiss with your loyalty*

Kiss kiss kiss was our prayer together in the love*
G(-_-) (-_-) D

poem by Dwi utami
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You can kiss me; only If

You can kiss me on my voluptuously rubicund cheeks
all right; but only if your kiss had the power to
wonderfully transcend over every other conceivable
kiss drifting ominously towards my direction; for
times beyond an infinite more lifetimes,

You can kiss me on my seductively tantalizing nape all
right; but only if your kiss had the tenacity to
miraculously overpower every other conceivable kiss
drifting atrociously towards my direction; for times
beyond an infinite more lifetimes,

You can kiss me on my rhapsodically vivacious hair all
right; but only if your kiss had the temerity to
supremely outshadow every other conceivable kiss
drifting egregiously towards my direction; for times
beyond an infinite more lifetimes,

You can kiss me on my enthrallingly ebullient lips all
right; but only if your kiss had the charisma to
irrefutably nullify every other conceivable kiss
drifting vindictively towards my direction; for times
beyond an infinite more lifetimes,

You can kiss me on my bountifully emollient palms all
right; but only if your kiss had the superiority to
timelessly conquer every other conceivable kiss
drifting baselessly towards my direction; for times
beyond an infinite more lifetimes,

You can kiss me on my surreally royal forehead all
right; but only if your kiss had the magic to
unbelievably decimate every other conceivable kiss
drifting truculently towards my direction; for times
beyond an infinite more lifetimes,

You can kiss me on my daintily embellished feet all
right; but only if your kiss had the magnetism to
insuperably supercede every other conceivable kiss
drifting salaciously towards my direction; for times
beyond an infinite more lifetimes,

You can kiss me on my robustly titillating belly all
right; but only if your kiss had the caress to
astronomically triumph over every other conceivable
kiss drifting parasitically towards my direction; for
times beyond an infinite more lifetimes,

You can kiss me on my uncontrollably trembling skin
all right; but only if your kiss had the color to

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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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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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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Running Away

Ya running and ya running
And ya running away.
Ya running and ya running
And ya running away.
Ya running and ya running
And ya running away.
Ya running and ya running,
But ya cant run away from yourself
Cant run away from yourself -
Cant run away from yourself -
Cant run away from yourself -
Cant run away from yourself -
Cant run away from yourself.
Ya must have done (must have done),
Sometin wrong (something wrong).
Said: ya must have done (must have done),
Wo! sometin wrong (something wrong).
Why you cant find the
Place where you belong?
Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do (running away);
Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do (running away);
Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do (running away);
Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do (running away);
Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do (running away).
Every man thinketh his
Burden is the heaviest (heaviest).
Every man thinketh his
Burden is the heaviest (heaviest).
Ya still mean it: who feels it knows it, lord;
Who feels it knows it, lord;
Who feels it knows it, lord;
Who feels it knows it, lord.
Ya running and ya running
And ya running away.
Ya running and ya running
And ya running away.
Ya running and ya running
And ya running away.
Ya running and ya running
But ya cant run away from yourself.
Could ya run away from yourself?
Can you run away from yourself?
Cant run away from yourself!
Cant run away from yourself!
Yeah-eah-eah-eah - from yourself.
Brr - you must have done sometin -
Sometin - sometin - sometin -
Sometin ya dont want nobody to know about:
Ya must have, lord - sometin wrong,
What ya must have done - ya must have done sometin wrong.

[...] Read more

song performed by Bob Marley
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(Freedom poems) Fairy child

Fairy child
You child of a god
Fairy child
You have given
up your freedom
Fairy
Fairy child
And now you roam
our world free
Fairy child
because
you know no borders
and your education
Ain't enough fairy child
So you cross borders
to disrespect international
Treaties
You're wanted by INTERPOL
(Can you spell that out loud?)
and the host of
The international agencies
you fairy child
You will know forwards
Fairy child
That the world serves
the interests of one
Super state
When the sanctions
begin to bite fairy child
You will cry like your
Fairy mama fairy
Because here there's
the scarcity
of the sanctions busters
Fairy child
You better go away fairy child
And find yourself
A love mate in Tokyo
Fairy child
'Cause in Tel Aviv
They hunt down the black
infiltrators
Yes they do fairy child
'cause they fear the black brothers
'cause they and the Israelis
Share the same black ancestor fairy child
You better run my brother
And fall in love and marry yourself
off to a Ethiop woman
To get a alien citizenship fairy child

[...] Read more

poem by Ngaka Motaung
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Prince Dorus

In days of yore, as Ancient Stories tell,
A King in love with a great Princess fell.
Long at her feet submiss the Monarch sigh'd,
While she with stern repulse his suit denied.
Yet was he form'd by birth to please the fair,
Dress'd, danc'd, and courted, with a Monarch's air;
But Magic Spells her frozen breast had steel'd
With stubborn pride, that knew not how to yield.

This to the King a courteous Fairy told,
And bade the Monarch in his suit be bold;
For he that would the charming Princess wed,
Had only on her cat's black tail to tread,
When straight the Spell would vanish into air,
And he enjoy for life the yielding fair.

He thank'd the Fairy for her kind advice.-
Thought he, 'If this be all, I'll not be nice;
Rather than in my courtship I will fail,
I will to mince-meat tread Minon's black tail.'

To the Princess's court repairing strait,
He sought the cat that must decide his fate;
But when he found her, how the creature stared!
How her back bristled, and her great eyes glared!
That tail, which he so fondly hop'd his prize,
Was swell'd by wrath to twice its usual size;
And all her cattish gestures plainly spoke,
She thought the affair he came upon, no joke.

With wary step the cautious King draws near,
And slyly means to attack her in her rear;
But when he thinks upon her tail to pounce,
Whisk-off she skips-three yards upon a bounce-
Again he tries, again his efforts fail-
Minon's a witch-the deuce is in her tail.-

The anxious chase for weeks the Monarch tried,
Till courage fail'd, and hope within him died.
A desperate suit 'twas useless to prefer,
Or hope to catch a tail of quicksilver.-
When on a day, beyond his hopes, he found
Minon, his foe, asleep upon the ground;
Her ample tail hehind her lay outspread,
Full to the eye, and tempting to the tread.

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Lamb
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Plea Of The Midsummer Fairies

I

'Twas in that mellow season of the year
When the hot sun singes the yellow leaves
Till they be gold,—and with a broader sphere
The Moon looks down on Ceres and her sheaves;
When more abundantly the spider weaves,
And the cold wind breathes from a chillier clime;—
That forth I fared, on one of those still eves,
Touch'd with the dewy sadness of the time,
To think how the bright months had spent their prime,

II

So that, wherever I address'd my way,
I seem'd to track the melancholy feet
Of him that is the Father of Decay,
And spoils at once the sour weed and the sweet;—
Wherefore regretfully I made retreat
To some unwasted regions of my brain,
Charm'd with the light of summer and the heat,
And bade that bounteous season bloom again,
And sprout fresh flowers in mine own domain.

III

It was a shady and sequester'd scene,
Like those famed gardens of Boccaccio,
Planted with his own laurels evergreen,
And roses that for endless summer blow;
And there were fountain springs to overflow
Their marble basins,—and cool green arcades
Of tall o'erarching sycamores, to throw
Athwart the dappled path their dancing shades,—
With timid coneys cropping the green blades.

IV

And there were crystal pools, peopled with fish,
Argent and gold; and some of Tyrian skin,
Some crimson-barr'd;—and ever at a wish
They rose obsequious till the wave grew thin
As glass upon their backs, and then dived in,
Quenching their ardent scales in watery gloom;
Whilst others with fresh hues row'd forth to win
My changeable regard,—for so we doom
Things born of thought to vanish or to bloom.

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poem by Thomas Hood
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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
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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And then there were none

There were ten
Waiting by the road
Ready for a journey
Of an entire lifetime

The ten crossed the lake,
But the tenth was too scared
He left the others to their fates
And departed with some joy.

And then there were nine
Walking by the road,
Engrossed in the journey
Of an entire lifetime

The nine walked over a bridge
But the ninth saw a beauty
Pursued her, leaving the rest
And sealed his own fate

And then there were eight
Walking by the road,
Engrossed in the journey
Of an entire lifetime.

As they walked by the gorge,
The eighth saw a tree
Laden with fruits. Hunger
Consumed his life away

And then there were seven
Walking by the road,
Engrossed in the journey
Of an entire lifetime.

As they walked by the mountain
Cold consumed their hearts.
The seventh saw a route
To escape from the way.

And then there were six
Walking by the road,
Engrossed in the journey
Of an entire lifetime.

The trail went on and on
Never showed a sign of ending
The sixth lost all hope
And left the party, disgruntled.

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poem by Devdan Vaidyanathan
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