Quotes about melt, page 8
Eight Syllables
God's here! It's time! He's back again!
The poem's on its way!
When writing time calls for my pen
As I begin to pray!
'I'm ready, Lord! Inspire me,
Let wisdom lead me now! '
And thus God grants new poetry,
To melt my furrowed brow...
Eight syllables were in my mind!
Then six to follow on...
A leap of faith would help unwind
The twirling lights that shone...
Within those lights were mysteries
And prophecies galore,
In hopes to melt the miseries
That life still holds in store...
The first line penned, the second, too,
The phrases set in time,
[...] Read more
poem by Denis Martindale
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Love and Tragedy
Yes, I have loved with love
that was more than love
more than love,
Drove myself mad with this love
with this love,
Hoping to catch a glimpse of my love
my love,
Just seeing was not enough for me
seeing my love
my love,
So I met her, my true love,
And so true it was.
Yes, I married this girl with joy
with joy,
The splendid sense of so much joy
so much joy,
And I felt so much,
My heart melt,
melt with all my joy,
[...] Read more
poem by Andy Greenwald
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Heavy Dragoon
If you want a receipt for that popular mystery,
Known to the world as a Heavy Dragoon,
Take all the remarkable people in history,
Rattle them off to a popular tune!
The pluck of LORD NELSON on board of the VICTORY -
Genius of BISMARCK devising a plan;
The humour of FIELDING (which sounds contradictory) -
Coolness of PAGET about to trepan -
The grace of MOZART, that unparalleled musico -
Wit of MACAULAY, who wrote of QUEEN ANNE -
The pathos of PADDY, as rendered by BOUCICAULT -
Style of the BISHOP OF SODOR AND MAN -
The dash of a D'ORSAY, divested of quackery -
Narrative powers of DICKENS and THACKERAY -
VICTOR EMMANUEL - peak-haunting PEVERIL -
THOMAS AQUINAS, and DOCTOR SACHEVERELL -
TUPPER and TENNYSON - DANIEL DEFOE -
ANTHONY TROLLOPE and MISTER GUIZOT!
Take of these elements all that is fusible,
Melt 'em all down in a pipkin or crucible,
[...] Read more
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Love Letter Written In A Burning Building
I am in a crate, the crate that was ours,
full of white shirts and salad greens,
the icebox knocking at our delectable knocks,
and I wore movies in my eyes,
and you wore eggs in your tunnel,
and we played sheets, sheets, sheets
all day, even in the bathtub like lunatics.
But today I set the bed afire
and smoke is filling the room,
it is getting hot enough for the walls to melt,
and the icebox, a gluey white tooth.
I have on a mask in order to write my last words,
and they are just for you, and I will place them
in the icebox saved for vodka and tomatoes,
and perhaps they will last.
The dog will not. Her spots will fall off.
The old letters will melt into a black bee.
The night gowns are already shredding
into paper, the yellow, the red, the purple.
[...] Read more
poem by Anne Sexton
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
That you have abandoned all will and strife
That you have abandoned all will and strife
Discard any other activity which implies getting on with life
You do not want to break away forfeiting any bail
And you are punishing yourself, putting yourself in jail
put yourself in some kind of curfew under powerful bolt
put life and the world around in complete halt
Until yourself will give you what yourself has taken away from you.....
All in the name of this precarious love so divine and dear in your view
It melt you down as dawn stars are melt in blue
And all other suitors you disdain discarding so many
It raises doubt if you ever find true love with any
Your heart is always heavy for him with fruits of love
Like clusters of ripe pomegranate fruit bearing down
The canopy branches of the tree
But you never intend to give him one from above
It is waxed and sweetened by the full sun as jewels crown
The fruits of our love are subject to your status; they are not free
[...] Read more
poem by Isaac Ziv
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Hats Felt - On Arsenic and Mercury used in the Manufacture of Felt Hats
HATS FELT
'Wolfe's mad as a hatter! ' said French to their King,
'He should bite my commanders' the latter replied,
'For when victory smiles one says: 'Where is thy sting? '
to Death as its sickle appears by bedside.'
Though Mercury's drops felt by, through, fuzzy, felt
makes mind muzzy, ears buzzy, yet four poster bed
stayed surrounded by green drapes rayed sunbeams might melt:
thus green dye, st[r]eamed arsenic, poisoned mind, head.
This explains why green's held as both envy and threat
in artistic tradition especially in France,
so both strickening, mercury, should they be met
must be put out of mind, warn 'gainst trusting to chance.
For some lovers felt waiting too much of a weight,
where rich chubby hubby could lay down his arms,
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Common Cult
Up to the House of Mammon, from dawn to sister dawn,
Called by remembered voices the sons of men are drawn;
By noon the dust goes skyward, by night the torches flare,
On veining roads that mingle—and you and I are there.
Around the House of Mammon, like ruined cities’ stones,
The stubborn and the haughty have left their trampled bones.
They were the few in number that would not enter in,
Saying, “The god is evil.” Saying, “To kneel is sin.”
The ebony House of Mammon goes up against the sky;
The north wind and the south wind before its portals die.
Its towers go near to Heaven; its vaults go nearer Hell,
And all are fat with favor to some who serve them well.
Before the House of Mammon stand you not overlong,
But enter to the worship, unnoted in the throng;
There it is ill to parley, to ask the why or when,
For he whose line would prosper shall be as other men.
[...] Read more
poem by George Sterling
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Realities
(To the etchings of Norman Lindsay)
Now the statues lean over each to each, and sing,
Gravely in warm plaster turning; the hedges are dark.
The trees come suddenly to flower with moonlight,
The water-gardens to glassy fire, and the night, the night,
Breaks in a rain of stars. O, now the statues wake,
Poise on their leaden stems, and dive into the lake—
And the old Gardener, who has grown old with raking,
Bends by his flickering candle, and hears the noise,
And is nodding his head at a music of copper shaking,
And Mercury whispering to some little graven Boys.
And Venus with Venus is walking in a misty grove,
Their mouths breathless with great lies of Jove,
And the green-silver moon flows quivering down their sides,
Till each is lined in light.
'And this Brass Tower?' she said—
But a stone Faun, clawed to the branches overhead,
Could hold his breath no longer, downward slides,
And crashes in a storm of leaves.—O, look, the lake!
O, the great dolphins from the fountain-rim,
[...] Read more
poem by Kenneth Slessor
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Melting Pot in Melting Point: A Test Taste after Wanda Lea Brayton
Wing with me through sunrise sweet,
to shed cocoons and spread the sky
with wonder which the dark’s defeat
soon celebrates, to answer why,
puts fears at rest, - no wish deny.
Surprise, where eyes together meet,
melts walls, as none need quantify
new hope no cyclone gust could cheat.
Due cycle, spin, win trust, supply
true scope both Time and Tide defy
Soul in soul can thus complete
its mission~fission and ally
heart once apart from heart to greet
with fresh~baked bread and apple pie
from typhoons, twisters, home and dry.
May mind in mind forever share
discoveries as fresh breeze brings
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Broken Chances
My Love,
I don't know how you're going to get this,
But it is my last word on this Earth.
Just what ever you do sit alone and read this.
I want you to be at the lake where you gave me my first kiss,
I want you to sit by the tree that held us, and read this.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You were my love, my only one person who always made me smile,
You held my hand through so many things, so many firsts.
You were my light you were my smile
And you told me the three deadly words,
The words that always kill, but first make you smile.
I have sewed my mouth shut, so you will never see me smile.
I would melt at the sound of your voice,
I would just sit and listen just to know you were really there,
I would call when you weren't home, just to hear your voice.
[...] Read more
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!