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Quotes about Tamara Beryl Latham

Rose Mary

Of her two fights with the Beryl-stone
Lost the first, but the second won.

PART I

“MARY mine that art Mary's Rose
Come in to me from the garden-close.
The sun sinks fast with the rising dew,
And we marked not how the faint moon grew;
But the hidden stars are calling you.
“Tall Rose Mary, come to my side,
And read the stars if you'd be a bride.
In hours whose need was not your own,
While you were a young maid yet ungrown
You've read the stars in the Beryl-stone.
“Daughter, once more I bid you read;
But now let it be for your own need:
Because to-morrow, at break of day,
To Holy Cross he rides on his way,
Your knight Sir James of Heronhaye.

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Tamara Princess of Satira

I walk; carry the weight of the sands, dust particles of gold
Beneath, lay the tomb, resurrected in chamber of seven
Headed snake, guarding the abandoned soul of Princess Tamara
From Hanaring, the city of guardian angel

Her eyes full of killer’s instinct, bewildered with terror
Her walk creates the sound of ancient Jazz, symphonized
By the ruthless pharaohs, costumed in satire silk
When the moon shines on her flawless black hair,
An unwanted eclipse, overshadows every man’s heart

Zanatic climbs on every mind that sleeps
With velvet dream, wet by salty lips
The beat of drums, summoned by rushes of adrenalin
Ruins mellow hearts, starving for infinite orgasms
Hurricane halts, as Tamara blows her exile away
And drifting right to the laps of Prince Charming

City of Hanaring, once again echoed with satirical harp
That trounces and trances the lost souls, drown

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Sonnet On A Star

If I could write a sonnet
on a star
Then bottle it and
toss it to the sea
Would it travel
to the corners of the Earth,
And echo there
the love I hold for thee? If I could write a sonnet
on the moon
Then bottle it and
toss it to the winds
Would it find your heart
So you may briefly know,
Where your love ends
Is where my love begins? If I could write a sonnet
on the sun
Then bottle it and
toss it throughout time
Would someone from a distant galaxy
Find no greater love

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Tamara

Where waves of the Terek are waltzing
In Dariel's wickedest pass,
There rises from bleakest of storm crags
An ancient grey towering mass.

In this tower by mad winds assaulted,
Sat ever Tamara, the Queen--
A heavenly angel of beauty,
With a spirit of hell's own demesne.

Through the mist of the night her gold fires
Gleamed down through the valley below,
A welcome they threw to the pilgrim,
In their streaming and beckoning glow.

How clear rang the voice of Tamara!
How amorous did it invite!
The heart of the stranger enticing,
Seducing with magic delight!

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Tamara The Sequel

The dried leaves cripple, lifeless,
Stomped underneath his restless feet
Open the path to the falling waters
Visible through naked eyes,
So arrogant
Spread its wings, like Garuda
Tons of sounds, fall into
The river, where Tamara unleashes her voluptuous
Flesh, for the Sun to glimpse with a smile

Her mountainous breasts, tremor
Whenever it touch the cold water
Breathlessness has captured the Prince
Amid the brisk walk he endures
To find the fortress that seals thousands
Of secrets, concealing her well kept beauty

He looks up to the blue sky
Whispers to scores of Hummingbirds
“Hey buddies, lead me to the Princess,

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Mavis and Beryle.... Refined

Mavis and Beryl
(a couple of war wives out the front of their houses)
(Please note fag is cigarette and aye is yes)

So whilst the golden fire displayed nature in her prime
And oak trees stood proud and good in a regimental line
Dancing silhouettes tinkered, creating a wondering swaying scene
Mavis clad in rollers, upon her mop, she had chose to lean

A smelly fag she held in hand as a lady at a ball
Dreaming of Sherry and taffeta, turning the heads of all
Fingers extending as though she were the aristocracy
When up popped Beryl the girl next door
'Dya wanna a cuppa Tea? '

Mavis took a puff, then a breath, then left her world of mind
Said 'oh aye duck, I'd like that'
'you are so very kind! '

She stubbed it out, laid her mop then trotted up the path

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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.

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Generally we study too much and think too little.

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Music is the vernacular of the human soul.

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Remedies, indeed, are our great analysers of disease.

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