Monday 30 June 2008

To My Wife - a poem by Oscar Wilde

I can write no stately proem
As a prelude to my lay;
From a poet to a poem
I would dare to say.
For if of these fallen petals
One to you seem fair,
Love will waft it till it settles
On your hair.
And when wind and winter harden
All the loveless land,
It will whisper of the garden,
You will understand.

And there is nothing left to do
But to kiss once again, and part,
Nay, there is nothing we should rue,
I have my beauty,-you your Art,
Nay, do not start,
One world was not enough for two
Like me and you.

Tuesday 24 June 2008

Friends are Forever.










Monday 23 June 2008

Dear my future wife

Dear my future wife whomever you are,
I am giving you my heart for free; you don't have to pay the toll
All what I am asking you for; please, don't treat it like a doll

Dear my future wife wherever you are,
Do you dream of me and wonder how I look?
Have you ever thought which fish in the sea will you hook?

Dear my future wife, where are you now?
Are you asleep waiting for your prince
To wake you up by giving you a kiss
Or are you trying to find me just like I do
And shout between the crowds "WHERE ARE YOU?"

Dear my future wife I have a favor to ask;
Take my heart and make its loneliness dissipate
Give it some warm love, make its roots irrigate
Let my heart dance out of happiness and relief
Let it forget all its sorrow, pain and grief

Dear my future wife, say Amen after reading this,
I pray that we will love each other forever
I pray that our love will not have "game over"
I pray that our hearts will play fair and we won't need a ref
That our heart beats will beat louder till they hear the deaf

Amen...

Sunday 22 June 2008

How To Tell U ? I Love You









Saturday 21 June 2008

The Wait

Time Clicks as I await
The hour ends before my take
Sitting, thinking, waiting; my mind escapes

The day grows old as night passes
Wolves crying, coyotes howling; anticipating
Watching, staring, seeing -- nothing

Silence begins the day
as morning comes without notice
Tears begin to fall, slowly

The day moves on without hope
Wishing to be what is not to be

The sun moves to its peak
without a whisper or retreat

Time moving, but still empty
Stomach aching, curling
Still waiting

by Gary R. Hess

Friday 20 June 2008

A Hunting Morning

A HUNTING MORNING
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Put the saddle on the mare,
For the wet winds blow;
There's winter in the air,
And autumn all below.
For the red leaves are flying
And the red bracken dying,
And the red fox lying
Where the oziers grow.

Put the bridle on the mare,
For my blood runs chill;
And my heart, it is there,
On the heather-tufted hill,
With the gray skies o'er us,
And the long-drawn chorus
Of a running pack before us
From the find to the kill.

Then lead round the mare,
For it's time that we began,
And away with thought and care,
Save to live and be a man,
While the keen air is blowing,
And the huntsman holloing,
And the black mare going
As the black mare can.

Wednesday 18 June 2008

Ash Wednesday - a poem by T S Eliot

Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the agèd eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?

Because I do not hope to know
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power
Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is
nothing again

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessèd face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice

And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still.

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.

Friday 13 June 2008

Beautiful Dreamer

Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,
Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd away!

Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,
List while I woo thee with soft melody;
Gone are the cares of life's busy throng.

Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea,
Mermaids are chaunting the wild lorelie;
Over the streamlet vapors are borne,
Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn.

Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,
E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea;
Then will all clouds of sorrow depart,

Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

Thursday 12 June 2008

Come live with me and be my love

Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of th purest gold;

A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my love.

The shepherds' swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
Christopher Marlowe

Christopher Marlowe
(1564 - 1593) English Dramatist, Spy, Poet

Saturday 7 June 2008

A Red Red Rose

O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it ware ten thousand mile.

Friday 6 June 2008

Death Of Loved One - Forever and Always

Why are you crying?

Do you think I'm gone?

I haven't left you.

I'm where I belong.

Anytime you are lonely...

anytime you are sad...

anytime that your heart breaks...

anytime you are mad...

all you have to do is close your eyes

and I'll be there with you.

You see the world may take my body

but that's all that it can do.

When Jesus died upon the cross,

He took away our sins.

< He conquerer death so we can live

in heaven where life begins.

Don't stop the memory

of the times we shared.

It's God way to help you through.

Take time to laugh when life gets hard

the way we used to do!

A smell? A touch? The morning sun?

They all will help you see.

I never left. I'm still there.

Now smile once more for me.

Live each day. Keep looking up.

My life was not in vain.

I finished the task I was born to do.

That's why I couldn't remain.

Until I see you again -

I love you forever and always.

There is such a void after a loved one dies. Besides memories of all the good times God allowed you to share, you now are faced with the the unfulfilled dreams of the future. Some of you will decide to just let go of any future plans you made together. You will either believe it is an impossible dream or that it would be wrong to move forward alone. Yet others will take the walk of faith for a short time - only to be burdened with all the memories of the lost tomorrows.

The poem, "Forever and Always," was written to let you know that just because a loved one's body dies, it does not mean their soul does. God gives you memories to keep your loved one with you until you are united again in heaven. Give yourself time to mourn, but don't block the memory of your loved one and the special time you shared here on earth.

Monday 2 June 2008

Bleed

now is not the time to open
open that great door again
not the time to be more tolerant
not the time to play to win

now is not the time for justice
evolution mercy choices
not the time to pet the puppies
yipping with pathetic voices

now is not the time for kindness
not the time for compromise
not the time for loving blindness
not the time to close my eyes

now for one too many people
not that i have gained no good
heart has sown but flesh is reaping
tears to mind and wasted blood

now my inner wolf seeks equals
only those whose chords can howl
deadly whether lone or social
defending young or on the prowl

tell me not that you would die
upon the spines of my displeasure
live for me and for you will i
cherish each cell as if a treasure

put me not inside a cage
but roam with me through snow and sun
be by my side or breathe my dust
for i shall bleed again for none

Love is...
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