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In visions of the dark night
  I have dreamed of joy departed—
But a waking dream of life and light
  Hath left me broken-hearted.

Ah! what is not a dream by day
  To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
  Turned back upon the past?

That holy dream—that holy dream,
  While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam,
  A lonely spirit guiding.

What though that light, thro’ storm and night,
  So trembled from afar—
What could there be more purely bright
  In Truth’s day star?
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow—
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream:
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand—
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
It was many and many a year ago,
  In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
  By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
  Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
  In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
  I and my ANNABEL LEE;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
  Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
  In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
  My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
  And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
  In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
  Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
  In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
  Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
  Of those who were older than we—
  Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in heaven above,
  Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
  In her sepulchre there by the sea—
  In her tomb by the side of the sea.
  Sep 2014 Rayna Quaresma
Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Rayna Quaresma Jun 2014
A soft sheer of cold air shivers thy soul,
An obligation to conflate, in bareness, i'm told.
To feel the sorrow, of the ones i borrow,
To feel the shame, needing someone to blame.
As i bedight myself, alone, by myself,
The feelings i felt, weren't mine to be felt.
Strangling my empathy, as rain drips sympathy,
Fearing oblivion, as oblivion fears me.

A soft sheer of warm air shivers thy mind,
An infatuation to affection, unless out of sight-out of mind.
To feel the love, of ones who love.
To feel a swain, who is never ashamed.
As i comfort myself, around much of else,
The feelings i felt, were meant to be felt.
Grasping my empathy, as sunshine blares carefully,
Loving inevitable, as inevitable loves me.

A soft sheer of hot air shivers thy body,
An inspiration to hatred, is thee state of my body.
To feel the pain, of fire sustained.
To feel the hate, of but one's mistake.
As i defend myself, around everyone else,
The feelings i felt, should never be felt.
Fearing my empathy, as thunder strikes terribly,
Hating hate, as hate hates me.
Rayna Quaresma Jun 2014
A soft sheer of cold air shivers thy soul,
An obligation to conflate, in bareness, i'm told.
To feel the sorrow, of the ones i borrow,
To feel the shame, needing someone to blame.
As i bedight myself, alone, by myself,
The feelings i felt, weren't mine to be felt.
Strangling my empathy, as rain drips sympathy,
Fearing oblivion, as oblivion fears me.

A soft sheer of warm air shivers thy mind,
An infatuation to affection, unless out of sight-out of mind.
To feel the love, of ones who love.
To feel a swain, who is never ashamed.
As i comfort myself, around much of else,
The feelings i felt, were meant to be felt.
Grasping my empathy, as sunshine blares carefully,
Loving inevitable, as inevitable loves me.

A soft sheer of hot air shivers thy body,
An inspiration to hatred, is thee state of my body.
To feel the pain, of fire sustained.
To feel the hate, of but one's mistake.
As i defend myself, around everyone else,
The feelings i felt, should never be felt.
Fearing my empathy, as thunder strikes terribly,
Hating hate, as hate hates me.
Rayna Quaresma Jun 2014
Stars are the proof of a Wonderland,
A place beyond our imagination,
Where thoughts are the essence of words.
Gazing and searching the midnight sky,
Finding the stars winking at me from an endless arch of blackness beyond the moons corona. In places, a vivid sequin-silver and birthstone blue, turn to reflect on their history, like scattered fairy dust in the sky and beacons of hope for all the lost souls of the world. The sensational burn, an itch, for one lucky star to fly silent as others sit still. The stars lure me into a dream, a need. A need for exploration. Fantasizing the topsy-turvy world, which seems to be but one compartment of my mind. Defying gravity, just to float like a feather into the depths of a Wonderland. So beautiful. So true. And their i sit, and realize, that no matter how black the night becomes, the stars brilliance pierce the veil of darkness, a promise, that they stand vigil over us, now and forever. And with their light, they remind us of our ancestors, of loved ones passed, of songs and music, of a better tomorrow. And so i live in a Wonderland, where dreams are finally my reality, and my thoughts, are spoken with words.
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