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Newdigate prize poem recited in the Sheldonian Theatre
Oxford June 26th, 1878.

To my friend George Fleming author of ‘The Nile Novel’
and ‘Mirage’

I.

A year ago I breathed the Italian air,—
And yet, methinks this northern Spring is fair,—
These fields made golden with the flower of March,
The throstle singing on the feathered larch,
The cawing rooks, the wood-doves fluttering by,
The little clouds that race across the sky;
And fair the violet’s gentle drooping head,
The primrose, pale for love uncomforted,
The rose that burgeons on the climbing briar,
The crocus-bed, (that seems a moon of fire
Round-girdled with a purple marriage-ring);
And all the flowers of our English Spring,
Fond snowdrops, and the bright-starred daffodil.
Up starts the lark beside the murmuring mill,
And breaks the gossamer-threads of early dew;
And down the river, like a flame of blue,
Keen as an arrow flies the water-king,
While the brown linnets in the greenwood sing.
A year ago!—it seems a little time
Since last I saw that lordly southern clime,
Where flower and fruit to purple radiance blow,
And like bright lamps the fabled apples glow.
Full Spring it was—and by rich flowering vines,
Dark olive-groves and noble forest-pines,
I rode at will; the moist glad air was sweet,
The white road rang beneath my horse’s feet,
And musing on Ravenna’s ancient name,
I watched the day till, marked with wounds of flame,
The turquoise sky to burnished gold was turned.

O how my heart with boyish passion burned,
When far away across the sedge and mere
I saw that Holy City rising clear,
Crowned with her crown of towers!—On and on
I galloped, racing with the setting sun,
And ere the crimson after-glow was passed,
I stood within Ravenna’s walls at last!

II.

How strangely still! no sound of life or joy
Startles the air; no laughing shepherd-boy
Pipes on his reed, nor ever through the day
Comes the glad sound of children at their play:
O sad, and sweet, and silent! surely here
A man might dwell apart from troublous fear,
Watching the tide of seasons as they flow
From amorous Spring to Winter’s rain and snow,
And have no thought of sorrow;—here, indeed,
Are Lethe’s waters, and that fatal ****
Which makes a man forget his fatherland.

Ay! amid lotus-meadows dost thou stand,
Like Proserpine, with poppy-laden head,
Guarding the holy ashes of the dead.
For though thy brood of warrior sons hath ceased,
Thy noble dead are with thee!—they at least
Are faithful to thine honour:—guard them well,
O childless city! for a mighty spell,
To wake men’s hearts to dreams of things sublime,
Are the lone tombs where rest the Great of Time.

III.


Yon lonely pillar, rising on the plain,
Marks where the bravest knight of France was slain,—
The Prince of chivalry, the Lord of war,
Gaston de Foix:  for some untimely star
Led him against thy city, and he fell,
As falls some forest-lion fighting well.
Taken from life while life and love were new,
He lies beneath God’s seamless veil of blue;
Tall lance-like reeds wave sadly o’er his head,
And oleanders bloom to deeper red,
Where his bright youth flowed crimson on the ground.

Look farther north unto that broken mound,—
There, prisoned now within a lordly tomb
Raised by a daughter’s hand, in lonely gloom,
Huge-limbed Theodoric, the Gothic king,
Sleeps after all his weary conquering.
Time hath not spared his ruin,—wind and rain
Have broken down his stronghold; and again
We see that Death is mighty lord of all,
And king and clown to ashen dust must fall

Mighty indeed their glory! yet to me
Barbaric king, or knight of chivalry,
Or the great queen herself, were poor and vain,
Beside the grave where Dante rests from pain.
His gilded shrine lies open to the air;
And cunning sculptor’s hands have carven there
The calm white brow, as calm as earliest morn,
The eyes that flashed with passionate love and scorn,
The lips that sang of Heaven and of Hell,
The almond-face which Giotto drew so well,
The weary face of Dante;—to this day,
Here in his place of resting, far away
From Arno’s yellow waters, rushing down
Through the wide bridges of that fairy town,
Where the tall tower of Giotto seems to rise
A marble lily under sapphire skies!

Alas! my Dante! thou hast known the pain
Of meaner lives,—the exile’s galling chain,
How steep the stairs within kings’ houses are,
And all the petty miseries which mar
Man’s nobler nature with the sense of wrong.
Yet this dull world is grateful for thy song;
Our nations do thee homage,—even she,
That cruel queen of vine-clad Tuscany,
Who bound with crown of thorns thy living brow,
Hath decked thine empty tomb with laurels now,
And begs in vain the ashes of her son.

O mightiest exile! all thy grief is done:
Thy soul walks now beside thy Beatrice;
Ravenna guards thine ashes:  sleep in peace.

IV.

How lone this palace is; how grey the walls!
No minstrel now wakes echoes in these halls.
The broken chain lies rusting on the door,
And noisome weeds have split the marble floor:
Here lurks the snake, and here the lizards run
By the stone lions blinking in the sun.
Byron dwelt here in love and revelry
For two long years—a second Anthony,
Who of the world another Actium made!
Yet suffered not his royal soul to fade,
Or lyre to break, or lance to grow less keen,
’Neath any wiles of an Egyptian queen.
For from the East there came a mighty cry,
And Greece stood up to fight for Liberty,
And called him from Ravenna:  never knight
Rode forth more nobly to wild scenes of fight!
None fell more bravely on ensanguined field,
Borne like a Spartan back upon his shield!
O Hellas!  Hellas! in thine hour of pride,
Thy day of might, remember him who died
To wrest from off thy limbs the trammelling chain:
O Salamis!  O lone Plataean plain!
O tossing waves of wild Euboean sea!
O wind-swept heights of lone Thermopylae!
He loved you well—ay, not alone in word,
Who freely gave to thee his lyre and sword,
Like AEschylos at well-fought Marathon:

And England, too, shall glory in her son,
Her warrior-poet, first in song and fight.
No longer now shall Slander’s venomed spite
Crawl like a snake across his perfect name,
Or mar the lordly scutcheon of his fame.

For as the olive-garland of the race,
Which lights with joy each eager runner’s face,
As the red cross which saveth men in war,
As a flame-bearded beacon seen from far
By mariners upon a storm-tossed sea,—
Such was his love for Greece and Liberty!

Byron, thy crowns are ever fresh and green:
Red leaves of rose from Sapphic Mitylene
Shall bind thy brows; the myrtle blooms for thee,
In hidden glades by lonely Castaly;
The laurels wait thy coming:  all are thine,
And round thy head one perfect wreath will twine.

V.

The pine-tops rocked before the evening breeze
With the hoarse murmur of the wintry seas,
And the tall stems were streaked with amber bright;—
I wandered through the wood in wild delight,
Some startled bird, with fluttering wings and fleet,
Made snow of all the blossoms; at my feet,
Like silver crowns, the pale narcissi lay,
And small birds sang on every twining spray.
O waving trees, O forest liberty!
Within your haunts at least a man is free,
And half forgets the weary world of strife:
The blood flows hotter, and a sense of life
Wakes i’ the quickening veins, while once again
The woods are filled with gods we fancied slain.
Long time I watched, and surely hoped to see
Some goat-foot Pan make merry minstrelsy
Amid the reeds! some startled Dryad-maid
In girlish flight! or lurking in the glade,
The soft brown limbs, the wanton treacherous face
Of woodland god! Queen Dian in the chase,
White-limbed and terrible, with look of pride,
And leash of boar-hounds leaping at her side!
Or Hylas mirrored in the perfect stream.

O idle heart!  O fond Hellenic dream!
Ere long, with melancholy rise and swell,
The evening chimes, the convent’s vesper bell,
Struck on mine ears amid the amorous flowers.
Alas! alas! these sweet and honied hours
Had whelmed my heart like some encroaching sea,
And drowned all thoughts of black Gethsemane.

VI.

O lone Ravenna! many a tale is told
Of thy great glories in the days of old:
Two thousand years have passed since thou didst see
Caesar ride forth to royal victory.
Mighty thy name when Rome’s lean eagles flew
From Britain’s isles to far Euphrates blue;
And of the peoples thou wast noble queen,
Till in thy streets the Goth and *** were seen.
Discrowned by man, deserted by the sea,
Thou sleepest, rocked in lonely misery!
No longer now upon thy swelling tide,
Pine-forest-like, thy myriad galleys ride!
For where the brass-beaked ships were wont to float,
The weary shepherd pipes his mournful note;
And the white sheep are free to come and go
Where Adria’s purple waters used to flow.

O fair!  O sad!  O Queen uncomforted!
In ruined loveliness thou liest dead,
Alone of all thy sisters; for at last
Italia’s royal warrior hath passed
Rome’s lordliest entrance, and hath worn his crown
In the high temples of the Eternal Town!
The Palatine hath welcomed back her king,
And with his name the seven mountains ring!

And Naples hath outlived her dream of pain,
And mocks her tyrant!  Venice lives again,
New risen from the waters! and the cry
Of Light and Truth, of Love and Liberty,
Is heard in lordly Genoa, and where
The marble spires of Milan wound the air,
Rings from the Alps to the Sicilian shore,
And Dante’s dream is now a dream no more.

But thou, Ravenna, better loved than all,
Thy ruined palaces are but a pall
That hides thy fallen greatness! and thy name
Burns like a grey and flickering candle-flame
Beneath the noonday splendour of the sun
Of new Italia! for the night is done,
The night of dark oppression, and the day
Hath dawned in passionate splendour:  far away
The Austrian hounds are hunted from the land,
Beyond those ice-crowned citadels which stand
Girdling the plain of royal Lombardy,
From the far West unto the Eastern sea.

I know, indeed, that sons of thine have died
In Lissa’s waters, by the mountain-side
Of Aspromonte, on Novara’s plain,—
Nor have thy children died for thee in vain:
And yet, methinks, thou hast not drunk this wine
From grapes new-crushed of Liberty divine,
Thou hast not followed that immortal Star
Which leads the people forth to deeds of war.
Weary of life, thou liest in silent sleep,
As one who marks the lengthening shadows creep,
Careless of all the hurrying hours that run,
Mourning some day of glory, for the sun
Of Freedom hath not shewn to thee his face,
And thou hast caught no flambeau in the race.

Yet wake not from thy slumbers,—rest thee well,
Amidst thy fields of amber asphodel,
Thy lily-sprinkled meadows,—rest thee there,
To mock all human greatness:  who would dare
To vent the paltry sorrows of his life
Before thy ruins, or to praise the strife
Of kings’ ambition, and the barren pride
Of warring nations! wert not thou the Bride
Of the wild Lord of Adria’s stormy sea!
The Queen of double Empires! and to thee
Were not the nations given as thy prey!
And now—thy gates lie open night and day,
The grass grows green on every tower and hall,
The ghastly fig hath cleft thy bastioned wall;
And where thy mailed warriors stood at rest
The midnight owl hath made her secret nest.
O fallen! fallen! from thy high estate,
O city trammelled in the toils of Fate,
Doth nought remain of all thy glorious days,
But a dull shield, a crown of withered bays!

Yet who beneath this night of wars and fears,
From tranquil tower can watch the coming years;
Who can foretell what joys the day shall bring,
Or why before the dawn the linnets sing?
Thou, even thou, mayst wake, as wakes the rose
To crimson splendour from its grave of snows;
As the rich corn-fields rise to red and gold
From these brown lands, now stiff with Winter’s cold;
As from the storm-rack comes a perfect star!

O much-loved city!  I have wandered far
From the wave-circled islands of my home;
Have seen the gloomy mystery of the Dome
Rise slowly from the drear Campagna’s way,
Clothed in the royal purple of the day:
I from the city of the violet crown
Have watched the sun by Corinth’s hill go down,
And marked the ‘myriad laughter’ of the sea
From starlit hills of flower-starred Arcady;
Yet back to thee returns my perfect love,
As to its forest-nest the evening dove.

O poet’s city! one who scarce has seen
Some twenty summers cast their doublets green
For Autumn’s livery, would seek in vain
To wake his lyre to sing a louder strain,
Or tell thy days of glory;—poor indeed
Is the low murmur of the shepherd’s reed,
Where the loud clarion’s blast should shake the sky,
And flame across the heavens! and to try
Such lofty themes were folly:  yet I know
That never felt my heart a nobler glow
Than when I woke the silence of thy street
With clamorous trampling of my horse’s feet,
And saw the city which now I try to sing,
After long days of weary travelling.

VII.

Adieu, Ravenna! but a year ago,
I stood and watched the crimson sunset glow
From the lone chapel on thy marshy plain:
The sky was as a shield that caught the stain
Of blood and battle from the dying sun,
And in the west the circling clouds had spun
A royal robe, which some great God might wear,
While into ocean-seas of purple air
Sank the gold galley of the Lord of Light.

Yet here the gentle stillness of the night
Brings back the swelling tide of memory,
And wakes again my passionate love for thee:
Now is the Spring of Love, yet soon will come
On meadow and tree the Summer’s lordly bloom;
And soon the grass with brighter flowers will blow,
And send up lilies for some boy to mow.
Then before long the Summer’s conqueror,
Rich Autumn-time, the season’s usurer,
Will lend his hoarded gold to all the trees,
And see it scattered by the spendthrift breeze;
And after that the Winter cold and drear.
So runs the perfect cycle of the year.
And so from youth to manhood do we go,
And fall to weary days and locks of snow.
Love only knows no winter; never dies:
Nor cares for frowning storms or leaden skies
And mine for thee shall never pass away,
Though my weak lips may falter in my lay.

Adieu!  Adieu! yon silent evening star,
The night’s ambassador, doth gleam afar,
And bid the shepherd bring his flocks to fold.
Perchance before our inland seas of gold
Are garnered by the reapers into sheaves,
Perchance before I see the Autumn leaves,
I may behold thy city; and lay down
Low at thy feet the poet’s laurel crown.

Adieu!  Adieu! yon silver lamp, the moon,
Which turns our midnight into perfect noon,
Doth surely light thy towers, guarding well
Where Dante sleeps, where Byron loved to dwell.
How doth thou wake with an aching need?
For femmes and games and **** loads of ****?
To he who dost appreciate the weight of a lass
As spindly and petite with one hell of an ***?
Dost thou think for a mo...
That the only love felt tis that of a ***
Thou wast the only one left in the bar
With an overdose of E and a fool hearty scar
Nay my dear boy as one could only believe
A fuckboi thou art, and a fuckboi thou'll be
Shrivastva MK Oct 2017
Aate hai farishtey bankar,
Rehte hai har waqt haath thamkar,
Milta Hai anmol dosti ka vardaan jise,
Phulo se sazakar rakhna use,

Aate hai anzaan bankar,
Rahte hai dilon jaan bankar,
Sari hasratey pure ** jate hain,
Jab wo pyare dost muskurate hain,

Gum ke sagar mein dubne na dete
Khushiyan ka paigaam hain bhejte
Zindagi jeene ka maksad btate
Pyaara sa sansaar hai chahte

har pal ko khushnuma banate,
Sahi galat ka ehsaas karate,
Jo gumo me bhi saath nibhate hai,
Wahi sacche dost kahlate hai,

Khuda kasam kya khubsurat rishta hai dosti
Phulo se mehakta bagicha hai dosti
Yaaron ke bina adhuri hai zindagi
Zindagi jeene ki wajah h dosti


Written By
Sonia Paruthi & Shrivastva MK
U can also read this poem on allpoetry.
https://allpoetry.com/poem/13546476-Yaaron-ki-yaari--by-Sonia-Paruthi
Awake, awake my little Boy!
Thou wast thy Mother’s only joy:
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?
Awake! thy Father does thee keep.

“O, what land is the Land of Dreams?
What are its mountains, and what are its streams?
O Father, I saw my Mother there,
Among the lillies by waters fair.

Among the lambs clothed in white
She walked with her Thomas in sweet delight.
I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn—
O when shall I return again?”

Dear child, I also by pleasant streams
Have wandered all night in the Land of Dreams;
But though calm and warm the waters wide,
I could not get to the other side.

“Father, O Father, what do we here,
In this land of unbelief and fear?
The Land of Dreams is better far
Above the light of the Morning Star.”
So spake the Son of God; and Satan stood
A while as mute, confounded what to say,
What to reply, confuted and convinced
Of his weak arguing and fallacious drift;
At length, collecting all his serpent wiles,
With soothing words renewed, him thus accosts:—
  “I see thou know’st what is of use to know,
What best to say canst say, to do canst do;
Thy actions to thy words accord; thy words
To thy large heart give utterance due; thy heart            
Contains of good, wise, just, the perfet shape.
Should kings and nations from thy mouth consult,
Thy counsel would be as the oracle
Urim and Thummim, those oraculous gems
On Aaron’s breast, or tongue of Seers old
Infallible; or, wert thou sought to deeds
That might require the array of war, thy skill
Of conduct would be such that all the world
Could not sustain thy prowess, or subsist
In battle, though against thy few in arms.                  
These godlike virtues wherefore dost thou hide?
Affecting private life, or more obscure
In savage wilderness, wherefore deprive
All Earth her wonder at thy acts, thyself
The fame and glory—glory, the reward
That sole excites to high attempts the flame
Of most erected spirits, most tempered pure
AEthereal, who all pleasures else despise,
All treasures and all gain esteem as dross,
And dignities and powers, all but the highest?              
Thy years are ripe, and over-ripe.  The son
Of Macedonian Philip had ere these
Won Asia, and the throne of Cyrus held
At his dispose; young Scipio had brought down
The Carthaginian pride; young Pompey quelled
The Pontic king, and in triumph had rode.
Yet years, and to ripe years judgment mature,
Quench not the thirst of glory, but augment.
Great Julius, whom now all the world admires,
The more he grew in years, the more inflamed                
With glory, wept that he had lived so long
Ingloroious.  But thou yet art not too late.”
  To whom our Saviour calmly thus replied:—
“Thou neither dost persuade me to seek wealth
For empire’s sake, nor empire to affect
For glory’s sake, by all thy argument.
For what is glory but the blaze of fame,
The people’s praise, if always praise unmixed?
And what the people but a herd confused,
A miscellaneous rabble, who extol                          
Things ******, and, well weighed, scarce worth the praise?
They praise and they admire they know not what,
And know not whom, but as one leads the other;
And what delight to be by such extolled,
To live upon their tongues, and be their talk?
Of whom to be dispraised were no small praise—
His lot who dares be singularly good.
The intelligent among them and the wise
Are few, and glory scarce of few is raised.
This is true glory and renown—when God,                    
Looking on the Earth, with approbation marks
The just man, and divulges him through Heaven
To all his Angels, who with true applause
Recount his praises.  Thus he did to Job,
When, to extend his fame through Heaven and Earth,
As thou to thy reproach may’st well remember,
He asked thee, ‘Hast thou seen my servant Job?’
Famous he was in Heaven; on Earth less known,
Where glory is false glory, attributed
To things not glorious, men not worthy of fame.            
They err who count it glorious to subdue
By conquest far and wide, to overrun
Large countries, and in field great battles win,
Great cities by assault.  What do these worthies
But rob and spoil, burn, slaughter, and enslave
Peaceable nations, neighbouring or remote,
Made captive, yet deserving freedom more
Than those their conquerors, who leave behind
Nothing but ruin wheresoe’er they rove,
And all the flourishing works of peace destroy;            
Then swell with pride, and must be titled Gods,
Great benefactors of mankind, Deliverers,
Worshipped with temple, priest, and sacrifice?
One is the son of Jove, of Mars the other;
Till conqueror Death discover them scarce men,
Rowling in brutish vices, and deformed,
Violent or shameful death their due reward.
But, if there be in glory aught of good;
It may be means far different be attained,
Without ambition, war, or violence—                        
By deeds of peace, by wisdom eminent,
By patience, temperance.  I mention still
Him whom thy wrongs, with saintly patience borne,
Made famous in a land and times obscure;
Who names not now with honour patient Job?
Poor Socrates, (who next more memorable?)
By what he taught and suffered for so doing,
For truth’s sake suffering death unjust, lives now
Equal in fame to proudest conquerors.
Yet, if for fame and glory aught be done,                  
Aught suffered—if young African for fame
His wasted country freed from Punic rage—
The deed becomes unpraised, the man at least,
And loses, though but verbal, his reward.
Shall I seek glory, then, as vain men seek,
Oft not deserved?  I seek not mine, but His
Who sent me, and thereby witness whence I am.”
  To whom the Tempter, murmuring, thus replied:—
“Think not so slight of glory, therein least
Resembling thy great Father.  He seeks glory,              
And for his glory all things made, all things
Orders and governs; nor content in Heaven,
By all his Angels glorified, requires
Glory from men, from all men, good or bad,
Wise or unwise, no difference, no exemption.
Above all sacrifice, or hallowed gift,
Glory he requires, and glory he receives,
Promiscuous from all nations, Jew, or Greek,
Or Barbarous, nor exception hath declared;
From us, his foes pronounced, glory he exacts.”            
  To whom our Saviour fervently replied:
“And reason; since his Word all things produced,
Though chiefly not for glory as prime end,
But to shew forth his goodness, and impart
His good communicable to every soul
Freely; of whom what could He less expect
Than glory and benediction—that is, thanks—
The slightest, easiest, readiest recompense
From them who could return him nothing else,
And, not returning that, would likeliest render            
Contempt instead, dishonour, obloquy?
Hard recompense, unsuitable return
For so much good, so much beneficience!
But why should man seek glory, who of his own
Hath nothing, and to whom nothing belongs
But condemnation, ignominy, and shame—
Who, for so many benefits received,
Turned recreant to God, ingrate and false,
And so of all true good himself despoiled;
Yet, sacrilegious, to himself would take                    
That which to God alone of right belongs?
Yet so much bounty is in God, such grace,
That who advances his glory, not their own,
Them he himself to glory will advance.”
  So spake the Son of God; and here again
Satan had not to answer, but stood struck
With guilt of his own sin—for he himself,
Insatiable of glory, had lost all;
Yet of another plea bethought him soon:—
  “Of glory, as thou wilt,” said he, “so deem;              
Worth or not worth the seeking, let it pass.
But to a Kingdom thou art born—ordained
To sit upon thy father David’s throne,
By mother’s side thy father, though thy right
Be now in powerful hands, that will not part
Easily from possession won with arms.
Judaea now and all the Promised Land,
Reduced a province under Roman yoke,
Obeys Tiberius, nor is always ruled
With temperate sway: oft have they violated                
The Temple, oft the Law, with foul affronts,
Abominations rather, as did once
Antiochus.  And think’st thou to regain
Thy right by sitting still, or thus retiring?
So did not Machabeus.  He indeed
Retired unto the Desert, but with arms;
And o’er a mighty king so oft prevailed
That by strong hand his family obtained,
Though priests, the crown, and David’s throne usurped,
With Modin and her suburbs once content.                    
If kingdom move thee not, let move thee zeal
And duty—zeal and duty are not slow,
But on Occasion’s forelock watchful wait:
They themselves rather are occasion best—
Zeal of thy Father’s house, duty to free
Thy country from her heathen servitude.
So shalt thou best fulfil, best verify,
The Prophets old, who sung thy endless reign—
The happier reign the sooner it begins.
Rein then; what canst thou better do the while?”            
  To whom our Saviour answer thus returned:—
“All things are best fulfilled in their due time;
And time there is for all things, Truth hath said.
If of my reign Prophetic Writ hath told
That it shall never end, so, when begin
The Father in his purpose hath decreed—
He in whose hand all times and seasons rowl.
What if he hath decreed that I shall first
Be tried in humble state, and things adverse,
By tribulations, injuries, insults,                        
Contempts, and scorns, and snares, and violence,
Suffering, abstaining, quietly expecting
Without distrust or doubt, that He may know
What I can suffer, how obey?  Who best
Can suffer best can do, best reign who first
Well hath obeyed—just trial ere I merit
My exaltation without change or end.
But what concerns it thee when I begin
My everlasting Kingdom?  Why art thou
Solicitous?  What moves thy inquisition?                    
Know’st thou not that my rising is thy fall,
And my promotion will be thy destruction?”
  To whom the Tempter, inly racked, replied:—
“Let that come when it comes.  All hope is lost
Of my reception into grace; what worse?
For where no hope is left is left no fear.
If there be worse, the expectation more
Of worse torments me than the feeling can.
I would be at the worst; worst is my port,
My harbour, and my ultimate repose,                        
The end I would attain, my final good.
My error was my error, and my crime
My crime; whatever, for itself condemned,
And will alike be punished, whether thou
Reign or reign not—though to that gentle brow
Willingly I could fly, and hope thy reign,
From that placid aspect and meek regard,
Rather than aggravate my evil state,
Would stand between me and thy Father’s ire
(Whose ire I dread more than the fire of Hell)              
A shelter and a kind of shading cool
Interposition, as a summer’s cloud.
If I, then, to the worst that can be haste,
Why move thy feet so slow to what is best?
Happiest, both to thyself and all the world,
That thou, who worthiest art, shouldst be their King!
Perhaps thou linger’st in deep thoughts detained
Of the enterprise so hazardous and high!
No wonder; for, though in thee be united
What of perfection can in Man be found,                    
Or human nature can receive, consider
Thy life hath yet been private, most part spent
At home, scarce viewed the Galilean towns,
And once a year Jerusalem, few days’
Short sojourn; and what thence couldst thou observe?
The world thou hast not seen, much less her glory,
Empires, and monarchs, and their radiant courts—
Best school of best experience, quickest in sight
In all things that to greatest actions lead.
The wisest, unexperienced, will be ever                    
Timorous, and loth, with novice modesty
(As he who, seeking *****, found a kingdom)
Irresolute, unhardy, unadventrous.
But I will bring thee where thou soon shalt quit
Those rudiments, and see before thine eyes
The monarchies of the Earth, their pomp and state—
Sufficient introduction to inform
Thee, of thyself so apt, in regal arts,
And regal mysteries; that thou may’st know
How best their opposition to withstand.”                    
  With that (such power was given him then), he took
The Son of God up to a mountain high.
It was a mountain at whose verdant feet
A spacious plain outstretched in circuit wide
Lay pleasant; from his side two rivers flowed,
The one winding, the other straight, and left between
Fair champaign, with less rivers interveined,
Then meeting joined their tribute to the sea.
Fertil of corn the glebe, of oil, and wine;
With herds the pasture thronged, with flocks the hills;    
Huge cities and high-towered, that well might seem
The seats of mightiest monarchs; and so large
The prospect was that here and there was room
For barren desert, fountainless and dry.
To this high mountain-top the Tempter brought
Our Saviour, and new train of words began:—
  “Well have we speeded, and o’er hill and dale,
Forest, and field, and flood, temples and towers,
Cut shorter many a league.  Here thou behold’st
Assyria, and her empire’s ancient bounds,                  
Araxes and the Caspian lake; thence on
As far as Indus east, Euphrates west,
And oft beyond; to south the Persian bay,
And, inaccessible, the Arabian drouth:
Here, Nineveh, of length within her wall
Several days’ journey, built by Ninus old,
Of that first golden monarchy the seat,
And seat of Salmanassar, whose success
Israel in long captivity still mourns;
There Babylon, the wonder of all tongues,                  
As ancient, but rebuilt by him who twice
Judah and all thy father David’s house
Led captive, and Jerusalem laid waste,
Till Cyrus set them free; Persepolis,
His city, there thou seest, and Bactra there;
Ecbatana her structure vast there shews,
And Hecatompylos her hunderd gates;
There Susa by Choaspes, amber stream,
The drink of none but kings; of later fame,
Built by Emathian or by Parthian hands,                    
The great Seleucia, Nisibis, and there
Artaxata, Teredon, Ctesiphon,
Turning with easy eye, thou may’st behold.
All these the Parthian (now some ages past
By great Arsaces led, who founded first
That empire) under his dominion holds,
From the luxurious kings of Antioch won.
And just in time thou com’st to have a view
Of his great power; for now the Parthian king
In Ctesiphon hath gathered all his host                    
Against the Scythian, whose incursions wild
Have wasted Sogdiana; to her aid
He marches now in haste.  See, though from far,
His thousands, in what martial e
Since she whom I loved hath paid her last debt
To Nature, and to hers, and my good is dead,
And her soul early into heaven ravished,
Wholly on heavenly things my mind is set.
here the admiring her my mind did whet
To seek thee, God; so streams do show the head;
But though I have found thee, and thou my thirst hast fed,
a holy thristy dropsy melts me yet.
But why should I beg more love, whenas thou
Dost woo my soul, for hers offering all thine:
And dost not only fear lest I allow
My love to saints and angels, things divine,
but in they tender jealousy dost doubt
lest the world, flesh, yea, devil put thee out.
Dost thou idly ask to hear
  At what gentle seasons
Nymphs relent, when lovers near
  Press the tenderest reasons?
Ah, they give their faith too oft
  To the careless wooer;
Maidens' hearts are always soft:
  Would that men's were truer!

Woo the fair one, when around
  Early birds are singing;
When, o'er all the fragrant ground.
  Early herbs are springing:
When the brookside, bank, and grove,
  All with blossoms laden,
Shine with beauty, breathe of love,--
  Woo the timid maiden.

Woo her when, with rosy blush,
  Summer eve is sinking;
When, on rills that softly gush,
  Stars are softly winking;
When, through boughs that knit the bower,
  Moonlight gleams are stealing;
Woo her, till the gentle hour
  Wake a gentler feeling.

Woo her, when autumnal dyes
  Tinge the woody mountain;
When the dropping foliage lies
  In the weedy fountain;
Let the scene, that tells how fast
  Youth is passing over,
Warn her, ere her bloom is past,
  To secure her lover.

Woo her, when the north winds call
  At the lattice nightly;
When, within the cheerful hall,
  Blaze the ****** brightly;
While the wintry tempest round
  Sweeps the landscape hoary,
Sweeter in her ear shall sound
  Love's delightful story.
Debanjana Saha Nov 2017
Ek dost Tha Mera
Rehta Tha dur sheher me
Aata Tha kabhi kabar
Dher saare khushiyaan lekar
Din ya raat **, hasna muskurana,
Kabhi Kam na hota tha..

Jab bhi aata Tha
Har Roz milta Tha
Bohot der tak rukne ko taiyyar tha
Kabhi bola nahi-
K nahi yaar, aaj nahi.

Din badal Gaye mahine me,
Aur mujhe degaya har khushi
Jo kabhi mile na the!

Par ek din aisa bhi aaya,
Jab wo ghar Chala Gaya
Aur wapas kab aayega
Pata na tha..

Din, mahine bidte gaye
Par Akhon me asha kabhi na miti!
Usey bol to nahi payi
K dost kabhi to aa..

Ab har din naye dost banati hu
Hasti hu, khilkhilati hu,
Khush rehne ki koshish karti hu.
Din ya raat bahar rehti hu
Is umeed me k har Hawa me kabhi
Tu mil Jaye mujhe
Aur har din
Tere yaad me guzar leti hu..

Kabhi to aayega tu..
Din mahine saal
Shayed beet Jaye..

Kabhi to aayega tu..

English translation-

I had a friend,
Who stayed in another city,
Used to visit me every other day,
Bringing loads of happiness altogether
Without any shortage of Smiles or laughter.

Whenever he was here,
Everyday he used to meet me
Was ready to wait for me long
Never said, no today I can't.

Days passes by
And months too
And he gave me all happiness
And everyday seemed like a festival
Which I never had a chance to live!

But there came a day
When he had to return back home
Never knew when he would be back!

Days passed by
and months too.
But in my eyes,
Hopes never extinguished,
Never ever had I said
That friend- come back soon.

Everyday I make new friends
I smile, I laugh out loud.
I try to be happy
each and every day.
Day or night, I stay out
In the hopes of life
that the winds would
bring me closer to you.
And everyday I live
in the memories of you

May be someday
I would see you,
Days, months, years
Might pass by too,
May be someday..

Someday you will be back too..
I wrote this poetry dedicated to my friend who stays far off. I love him, I miss him loads. Hoping that we would be together all over again. There are days when I can't bear the pain of being apart. Neither can I express it in any way. The best way I could express was through this poetry.
LIFE! I know not what thou art,
But know that thou and I must part;
And when, or how, or where we met,
I own to me 's a secret yet.
But this I know, when thou art fled,
Where'er they lay these limbs, this head,
No clod so valueless shall be
As all that then remains of me.

O whither, whither dost thou fly?
Where bend unseen thy trackless course?
   And in this strange divorce,
Ah, tell where I must seek this compound I?
To the vast ocean of empyreal flame
   From whence thy essence came
Dost thou thy flight pursue, when freed
From matter's base encumbering ****?
   Or dost thou, hid from sight,
   Wait, like some spell-bound knight,
Through blank oblivious years th' appointed hour
To break thy trance and reassume thy power?
Yet canst thou without thought or feeling be?
O say, what art thou, when no more thou'rt thee?

Life! we have been long together,
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;
   'Tis hard to part when friends are dear;
   Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;--
   Then steal away, give little warning,
   Choose thine own time;
Say not Good-night, but in some brighter clime
   Bid me Good-morning!
Jam non consilio bonus, sed more eo perductus, ut non tantum
recte facere possim, sed nisi recte facere non possim
                                      (Seneca, Letters 130.10)

Stern Daughter of the Voice of God!
O Duty! if that name thou love
Who art a light to guide, a rod
To check the erring, and reprove;
Thou, who art victory and law
When empty terrors overawe;
From vain temptations dost set free;
And calm’st the weary strife of frail humanity!

There are who ask not if thine eye
Be on them; who, in love and truth,
Where no misgiving is, rely
Upon the genial sense of youth:
Glad Hearts! without reproach or blot;
Who do thy work, and know it not:
Oh! if through confidence misplaced
They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power! around them cast.

Serene will be our days and bright,
And happy will our nature be,
When love is an unerring light,
And joy its own security.
And they a blissful course may hold
Even now, who, not unwisely bold,
Live in the spirit of this creed;
Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need.

I, loving freedom, and untried;
No sport of every random gust,
Yet being to myself a guide,
Too blindly have reposed my trust:
And oft, when in my heart was heard
Thy timely mandate, I deferred
The task, in smoother walks to stray;
But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may.

Through no disturbance of my soul,
Or strong compunction in me wrought,
I supplicate for thy control;
But in the quietness of thought:
Me this unchartered freedom tires;
I feel the weight of chance-desires:
My hopes no more must change their name,
I long for a repose that ever is the same.

Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear
The Godhead’s most benignant grace;
Nor know we anything so fair
As is the smile upon thy face:
Flowers laugh before thee on their beds
And fragrance in thy footing treads;
Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong;
And the most ancient heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong.

To humbler functions, awful Power!
I call thee: I myself commend
Unto thy guidance from this hour;
Oh, let my weakness have an end!
Give unto me, made lowly wise,
The spirit of self-sacrifice;
The confidence of reason give;
And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me live!
Canaan Massie Nov 2012
What Light speaketh,
Unto the Darkness?
Whom is more forceful?
Which is more tyrannous?

Must you succumb to Light?
Or fear the Darkness?
Or both?
Must you Succumb to Light?
In order to overcome Darkness?
And if thou dost not fear Darkness?
When why should thee succumb to Light?

Light doth not symbolize good.
Light is as violent as Darkness.
For both are to be feared.

Light to be feared because of its' fickleness.
And Darkness to be feared of its' unknowing.

Pick up thine poison.
Acquire light, and thou art doomed.
Venture into darkness,
And thou art doomed.

Tis true, that the creatures,
Lurk in the shadows.
But the Light dost not,
Have them vanish.
Creatures are not banish'd,
From the Light.
But Darkness makes them unseen.

Spark thine torches,
Look among the creatures.
Yet a torch is Light,
And Light is a fickle being.

Light is easily lost,
Only to find yourself,
Once again set in Darkness.
Darkness... where the creatures roam.
Light... where the creatures are known.

Light doth not make Darkness timid.
But Light shakes below the hand of Darkness.
Light is fragile, yet darkness in itself.
For without Light, You obtain darkness.

Once again, spark thine torch.
Look beyond where the Light canst grasp.
What dost flood thine vision?
Darkness.

Permanent, Light is not.
But Darkness...
O... Darkness...
Thou art eternal.
Overwhelming and omniscient.
The world hath been created amoung Darkness.
Therefore, humanity doomed by its' creator,
To remain in Darkness for its' existence.
And Light never to prevail.
Of Man’s first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
Brought death into the World, and all our woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,
Sing, Heavenly Muse, that, on the secret top
Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire
That shepherd who first taught the chosen seed
In the beginning how the heavens and earth
Rose out of Chaos: or, if Sion hill
Delight thee more, and Siloa’s brook that flowed
Fast by the oracle of God, I thence
Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song,
That with no middle flight intends to soar
Above th’ Aonian mount, while it pursues
Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.
And chiefly thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer
Before all temples th’ upright heart and pure,
Instruct me, for thou know’st; thou from the first
Wast present, and, with mighty wings outspread,
Dove-like sat’st brooding on the vast Abyss,
And mad’st it pregnant: what in me is dark
Illumine, what is low raise and support;
That, to the height of this great argument,
I may assert Eternal Providence,
And justify the ways of God to men.
  Say first—for Heaven hides nothing from thy view,
Nor the deep tract of Hell—say first what cause
Moved our grand parents, in that happy state,
Favoured of Heaven so highly, to fall off
From their Creator, and transgress his will
For one restraint, lords of the World besides.
Who first seduced them to that foul revolt?
  Th’ infernal Serpent; he it was whose guile,
Stirred up with envy and revenge, deceived
The mother of mankind, what time his pride
Had cast him out from Heaven, with all his host
Of rebel Angels, by whose aid, aspiring
To set himself in glory above his peers,
He trusted to have equalled the Most High,
If he opposed, and with ambitious aim
Against the throne and monarchy of God,
Raised impious war in Heaven and battle proud,
With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power
Hurled headlong flaming from th’ ethereal sky,
With hideous ruin and combustion, down
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
In adamantine chains and penal fire,
Who durst defy th’ Omnipotent to arms.
  Nine times the space that measures day and night
To mortal men, he, with his horrid crew,
Lay vanquished, rolling in the fiery gulf,
Confounded, though immortal. But his doom
Reserved him to more wrath; for now the thought
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain
Torments him: round he throws his baleful eyes,
That witnessed huge affliction and dismay,
Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate.
At once, as far as Angels ken, he views
The dismal situation waste and wild.
A dungeon horrible, on all sides round,
As one great furnace flamed; yet from those flames
No light; but rather darkness visible
Served only to discover sights of woe,
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
That comes to all, but torture without end
Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed
With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.
Such place Eternal Justice has prepared
For those rebellious; here their prison ordained
In utter darkness, and their portion set,
As far removed from God and light of Heaven
As from the centre thrice to th’ utmost pole.
Oh how unlike the place from whence they fell!
There the companions of his fall, o’erwhelmed
With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,
He soon discerns; and, weltering by his side,
One next himself in power, and next in crime,
Long after known in Palestine, and named
Beelzebub. To whom th’ Arch-Enemy,
And thence in Heaven called Satan, with bold words
Breaking the horrid silence, thus began:—
  “If thou beest he—but O how fallen! how changed
From him who, in the happy realms of light
Clothed with transcendent brightness, didst outshine
Myriads, though bright!—if he whom mutual league,
United thoughts and counsels, equal hope
And hazard in the glorious enterprise
Joined with me once, now misery hath joined
In equal ruin; into what pit thou seest
From what height fallen: so much the stronger proved
He with his thunder; and till then who knew
The force of those dire arms? Yet not for those,
Nor what the potent Victor in his rage
Can else inflict, do I repent, or change,
Though changed in outward lustre, that fixed mind,
And high disdain from sense of injured merit,
That with the Mightiest raised me to contend,
And to the fierce contentions brought along
Innumerable force of Spirits armed,
That durst dislike his reign, and, me preferring,
His utmost power with adverse power opposed
In dubious battle on the plains of Heaven,
And shook his throne. What though the field be lost?
All is not lost—the unconquerable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield:
And what is else not to be overcome?
That glory never shall his wrath or might
Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace
With suppliant knee, and deify his power
Who, from the terror of this arm, so late
Doubted his empire—that were low indeed;
That were an ignominy and shame beneath
This downfall; since, by fate, the strength of Gods,
And this empyreal sybstance, cannot fail;
Since, through experience of this great event,
In arms not worse, in foresight much advanced,
We may with more successful hope resolve
To wage by force or guile eternal war,
Irreconcilable to our grand Foe,
Who now triumphs, and in th’ excess of joy
Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heaven.”
  So spake th’ apostate Angel, though in pain,
Vaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair;
And him thus answered soon his bold compeer:—
  “O Prince, O Chief of many throned Powers
That led th’ embattled Seraphim to war
Under thy conduct, and, in dreadful deeds
Fearless, endangered Heaven’s perpetual King,
And put to proof his high supremacy,
Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate,
Too well I see and rue the dire event
That, with sad overthrow and foul defeat,
Hath lost us Heaven, and all this mighty host
In horrible destruction laid thus low,
As far as Gods and heavenly Essences
Can perish: for the mind and spirit remains
Invincible, and vigour soon returns,
Though all our glory extinct, and happy state
Here swallowed up in endless misery.
But what if he our Conqueror (whom I now
Of force believe almighty, since no less
Than such could have o’erpowered such force as ours)
Have left us this our spirit and strength entire,
Strongly to suffer and support our pains,
That we may so suffice his vengeful ire,
Or do him mightier service as his thralls
By right of war, whate’er his business be,
Here in the heart of Hell to work in fire,
Or do his errands in the gloomy Deep?
What can it the avail though yet we feel
Strength undiminished, or eternal being
To undergo eternal punishment?”
  Whereto with speedy words th’ Arch-Fiend replied:—
“Fallen Cherub, to be weak is miserable,
Doing or suffering: but of this be sure—
To do aught good never will be our task,
But ever to do ill our sole delight,
As being the contrary to his high will
Whom we resist. If then his providence
Out of our evil seek to bring forth good,
Our labour must be to pervert that end,
And out of good still to find means of evil;
Which ofttimes may succeed so as perhaps
Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb
His inmost counsels from their destined aim.
But see! the angry Victor hath recalled
His ministers of vengeance and pursuit
Back to the gates of Heaven: the sulphurous hail,
Shot after us in storm, o’erblown hath laid
The fiery surge that from the precipice
Of Heaven received us falling; and the thunder,
Winged with red lightning and impetuous rage,
Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now
To bellow through the vast and boundless Deep.
Let us not slip th’ occasion, whether scorn
Or satiate fury yield it from our Foe.
Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild,
The seat of desolation, void of light,
Save what the glimmering of these livid flames
Casts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend
From off the tossing of these fiery waves;
There rest, if any rest can harbour there;
And, re-assembling our afflicted powers,
Consult how we may henceforth most offend
Our enemy, our own loss how repair,
How overcome this dire calamity,
What reinforcement we may gain from hope,
If not, what resolution from despair.”
  Thus Satan, talking to his nearest mate,
With head uplift above the wave, and eyes
That sparkling blazed; his other parts besides
Prone on the flood, extended long and large,
Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge
As whom the fables name of monstrous size,
Titanian or Earth-born, that warred on Jove,
Briareos or Typhon, whom the den
By ancient Tarsus held, or that sea-beast
Leviathan, which God of all his works
Created hugest that swim th’ ocean-stream.
Him, haply slumbering on the Norway foam,
The pilot of some small night-foundered skiff,
Deeming some island, oft, as ****** tell,
With fixed anchor in his scaly rind,
Moors by his side under the lee, while night
Invests the sea, and wished morn delays.
So stretched out huge in length the Arch-fiend lay,
Chained on the burning lake; nor ever thence
Had risen, or heaved his head, but that the will
And high permission of all-ruling Heaven
Left him at large to his own dark designs,
That with reiterated crimes he might
Heap on himself damnation, while he sought
Evil to others, and enraged might see
How all his malice served but to bring forth
Infinite goodness, grace, and mercy, shewn
On Man by him seduced, but on himself
Treble confusion, wrath, and vengeance poured.
  Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool
His mighty stature; on each hand the flames
Driven backward ***** their pointing spires, and,rolled
In billows, leave i’ th’ midst a horrid vale.
Then with expanded wings he steers his flight
Aloft, incumbent on the dusky air,
That felt unusual weight; till on dry land
He lights—if it were land that ever burned
With solid, as the lake with liquid fire,
And such appeared in hue as when the force
Of subterranean wind transprots a hill
Torn from Pelorus, or the shattered side
Of thundering Etna, whose combustible
And fuelled entrails, thence conceiving fire,
Sublimed with mineral fury, aid the winds,
And leave a singed bottom all involved
With stench and smoke. Such resting found the sole
Of unblest feet. Him followed his next mate;
Both glorying to have scaped the Stygian flood
As gods, and by their own recovered strength,
Not by the sufferance of supernal Power.
  “Is this the region, this the soil, the clime,”
Said then the lost Archangel, “this the seat
That we must change for Heaven?—this mournful gloom
For that celestial light? Be it so, since he
Who now is sovereign can dispose and bid
What shall be right: farthest from him is best
Whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme
Above his equals. Farewell, happy fields,
Where joy for ever dwells! Hail, horrors! hail,
Infernal world! and thou, profoundest Hell,
Receive thy new possessor—one who brings
A mind not to be changed by place or time.
The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.
What matter where, if I be still the same,
And what I should be, all but less than he
Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least
We shall be free; th’ Almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:
Here we may reigh secure; and, in my choice,
To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell:
Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.
But wherefore let we then our faithful friends,
Th’ associates and co-partners of our loss,
Lie thus astonished on th’ oblivious pool,
And call them not to share with us their part
In this unhappy mansion, or once more
With rallied arms to try what may be yet
Regained in Heaven, or what more lost in Hell?”
  So Satan spake; and him Beelzebub
Thus answered:—”Leader of those armies bright
Which, but th’ Omnipotent, none could have foiled!
If once they hear that voice, their liveliest pledge
Of hope in fears and dangers—heard so oft
In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge
Of battle, when it raged, in all assaults
Their surest signal—they will soon resume
New courage and revive, though now they lie
Grovelling and prostrate on yon lake of fire,
As we erewhile, astounded and amazed;
No wonder, fallen such a pernicious height!”
  He scare had ceased when the superior Fiend
Was moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield,
Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round,
Behind him cast. The broad circumference
Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb
Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views
At evening, from the top of Fesole,
Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands,
Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.
His spear—to equal which the tallest pine
Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast
Of some great ammiral, were but a wand—
He walked with, to support uneasy steps
Over the burning marl, not like those steps
On Heaven’s azure; and the torrid clime
Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire.
Nathless he so endured, till on the beach
Of that inflamed sea he stood, and called
His legions—Angel Forms, who lay entranced
Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks
In Vallombrosa, where th’ Etrurian shades
High over-arched embower; or scattered sedge
Afloat, when with fierce winds Orion armed
Hath vexed the Red-Sea coast, whose waves o’erthrew
Busiris and his Memphian chivalry,
While with perfidious hatred they pursued
The sojourners of Goshen, who beheld
From the safe shore their floating carcases
And broken chariot-wheels. So thick bestrown,
Abject and lost, lay these, covering the flood,
Under amazement of their hideous change.
He called so loud that all the hollow deep
Of Hell resounded:—”Princes, Potentates,
Warriors, the Flower of Heaven—once yours; now lost,
If such astonishment as this can seize
Eternal Spirits! Or have ye chosen this place
After the toil of battle to repose
Your wearied virtue, for the ease you find
To slumber here, as in the vales of Heaven?
Or in this abject posture have ye sworn
To adore the Conqueror, who now beholds
Cherub and Seraph rolling in the flood
With scattered arms and ensigns, till anon
His swift pursuers from Heaven-gates discern
Th’ advantage, and, descending, tread us down
Thus drooping, or with linked thunderbolts
Transfix us to the bottom of this gulf?
Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen!”
  They heard, and were abashed, and up they sprung
Upon the wing, as when men wont to watch
On duty, sleeping found by whom they dread,
Rouse and bestir themselves ere well awake.
Nor did they not perceive the evil plight
In which they were, or the fierce pains not feel;
Yet to their General’s voice they soon obeyed
Innumerable. As when the potent rod
Of Amram’s son, in Egypt’s evil day,
Waved round the coast, up-called a pitchy cloud
Of locusts, warping on the eastern wind,
That o’er the realm of impious Pharaoh hung
Like Night, and darkened all the land of Nile;
So numberless were those bad Angels seen
Hovering on wing under the cope of Hell,
‘Twixt upper, nether, and surrounding fires;
Till, as a signal given, th’ uplifted spear
Of their great Sultan waving to direct
Their course, in even balance down they light
On the firm brimstone, and fill all the plain:
A multitude like which the populous North
Poured never from her frozen ***** to pass
Rhene or the Danaw, when her barbarous sons
Came like a deluge on the South, and spread
Beneath Gibraltar to the Libyan sands.
Forthwith, form every squadron and each band,
The heads and leaders thither haste where stood
Their great Commander—godlike Shapes, and Forms
Excelling human; princely Dignities;
And Powers that erst in Heaven sat on thrones,
Though on their names in Heavenly records now
Be no memorial, blotted out and rased
By their rebellion from the Books of Life.
Nor had they yet among the sons of Eve
Got them new names, till, wandering o’er the earth,
Through God’s high sufferance for the trial of man,
By falsities and lies the greatest part
Of mankind they corrupted to forsake
God their Creator, and th’ invisible
Glory of him that made them to transform
Oft to the image of a brute, adorned
With gay religions full of pomp and gold,
And devils to adore for deities:
Then were they known to men by various names,
And various idols through the heathen world.
  Say, Muse, their names then known, who first, who last,
Roused fr
brandon nagley Apr 2017
Avaunt, I wilt be from the blackness of this foredoomed orb, men slaying for thing's they lusteth after; God's sentence shalt be handed down, by quake's to shake the grounds, fireballs twixt the skies wilt
Pound, bombs to mankind's bullet rounds
Shalt be found amongst wailing shores.
Avaunt, I shalt be caught away into the
Third heaven, like an eagle seen then
Gone, I wilt soar past hopeless love,
That wilt mourn below mine feet.
Deplore thy world O' creation
that sleeps; for the harbingers hath
been painted on thy subway Wall's
And steel-plated towers. Thou hath
Mocked Yahweh's prophets, and son's
And daughter's; thy trees shalt turn to
Crisp in the afternoon hours, thy rivers,
Oceans, shalt turn to blood, whilst thou
Slept around in foreign bed's to find thy
Own love, dying for the affections of other's,
Yet rejecting God's only son, contemplate now for thy night's wilt be of the undead,
As death shalt thou seek. Tsunamis wilt
Be blankets across thy soils to sweep, as tides shalt turn brides into watery graves.
Free thou art thou dost thinkest, yet still enslaved; by media, the elite who keep the
Innocent locked away in a ****** cage.
As Satan laughs, with thee in his fingers, puppets with many he dangles and plays.
Avaunt soon I'll be feasting with mine Lord, none more worries of what's before, but forgetting what's behind. Open thy heart dear reader, put eyesalve on thy eyes, for this planet shan't save thee from the thing's to come, don't be caught up in life's lusts, for tis not love. (Acts 4:12), Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved. That means O' dear poet and poetess, Jesus Christ is the ONLY way. The way to escape the judgement coming upon our earth, for born of the ****** Mary by the ****** birth. He spoke of what's coming, as did the Prophets afore him, he spoke of he's the only way, to escape hell and go to heaven. For he was mocked, spat upon, beard ripped out and torn, upon his head was placed, a crown of broken thorns. By his stripes we art healed, as he was whipped for thou and me, what's coming thou can't escape reader, by the way for thou he didst bleed. Nailed in his hands, as holes to in his feet, hanging upon the wooden cross, his bloods loss was for thy souls keep. As to he was pierced into his heart in his side, flowing water with  crimson, that water is life. He died, rose again the third day, that all may hath eternal life with Christ, so in heaven thou shalt stay. Avaunt from the misery soon to hit one day. Maybe in months, days. For Christ the lord is coming, as every eye shalt witness his beauty, as every knee shalt bow, every tongue shalt confess his name. The morrows not promised, he offers thee
Eternal life; make the right decision now,
For the morrows not promised, neither is
Thy life. For I tell thee now, he's coming
For his wife. His wife is the bride (the church who's accepted him as their savior). He shalt say come up here, the mainstream wilt report in news and papers, BILLIONS ART MISSING ( WE THINK ITS BECAUSE OUR ALIEN SAVIORS). World governments wilt lie, as Jesus Christ came to take his bride, they'll tell thee it's our (alien brothers and sisters) in reality demons pushed as good guys. But Christ wilt soon call us, for the signs art happening in the heavens now, and millions wilt be left behind, on the planet with an Antichrist and false prophet, giving out RFID chips in the hands and between thy brow. For if thou dost reject Christ before he rescues his children, thou shalt be left behind, to worship the Antichrist, and the image the false prophet makes that wilt be seen reaching high. If thou dost take that mark, as sayest in Revelation thirteen, doomed shalt thou be, in gods book of life then erased wilt be thy name. Today do choose which place thou shalt stay. In heaven or in hell, dost thou knoweth thy stay? Wilt it be with the Lord? Happy in peace? In God's light and true love? Or wilt thou be left behind when the papers read MILLION'S VANISHED, THE ALIENS DIDST COME! Though as I saidst dear reader, it wilt be Christ who's coming to take those who accepted him, the world leaders wilt give lies like butter spread out in one world togetherness. Yeshua hamashiach (Jesus the Messiah is close). Soon to take his church; wilt thou accept him today to spend eternity with him? Or be caught in the lie, that (aliens) reality demonic beings art our friends.


© Brandon nagley
© Lonesome poets poetry
© Prophetic poetry
Word meanings-
Avaunt; away.
Foredoomed; condemn beforehand to certain failure or destruction.
Orb- the earth.
Lusteth-lust. (Archaic form).
Wilt-will.
Twixt-between.
Deplore- feel or express strong disapproval of (something)..
Thy-your.
Hath-have .
Harbinger,- a person or thing that announces or signals the approach of another. (Signs, signal, warnings).
Thou-you.
Yahweh- name for God to Jews and Christians just as gods name is also called Elohim, Jehovah, the great I am, Emmanuel ( meaning god with us).
Whilst-while.
Art-are.
Dost-do.
Think-think.
Thee-you.
Eyesalve- medical ointment for eyes, to open them for one to see.
Shan't-shall not.
Tis-it is.
Afore-before at an earlier time.
Didst,-did.
Hither-here.
Sayest-says.

Rapture-
, Rapture is a state or experience of being carried away. The English word comes from a Latin word, rapio, which means to seize or ****** in relation to an ecstasy of spirit or the actual removal from one place to another. In other words, it means to be carried away in spirit or in body. The Rapture of the church means the carrying away of the church from earth to heaven.

The Greek word from this term “rapture” is derived appears in 1 Thessalonians 4:17, translated “caught up.” The Latin translation of this verse used the word rapturo. The Greek word it translates is harpazo, which means to ****** or take away. Elsewhere it is used to describe how the Spirit caught up Philip near Gaza and brought him to Caesarea (Acts 8:39) and to describe Paul’s experience of being caught up into the third heaven (2 Cor. 12:2-4). Thus there can be no doubt that the word is used in 1 Thessalonians 4:17 to indicate the actual removal of people from earth to heaven.
Rapture is where Christ physically removes his believers both dead and living to be with him in heaven for seven years he removes his bride (the church) Christians who accept him as Lord right before tribulation of seven years (gods judgement and wrath) is poured on this earth meanwhile during the seven year tribulation an Antichrist will proclaim to be God in the new third Jewish temple that will be built during the seven year's of tribulation (JUDGEMENT) and the Antichrist will have a false prophet (religious) leader bringing all world religions together to worship the Antichrist and an image of the Antichrist that will be built during the tribulation hour of (seven years) while JUDGEMENTs one after another'hit the earth during seven year's tribulation, though gods people shall be protected in the third heaven as I speak in poem there are three heavens mentioned in our Bible by apostle Paul.
1st heaven- sky you see, air we breathe
2nd- space, universe, stars sun Moon planets,
3rd- actual heaven beyond what we see where angels are . And where one actually goes to when died when accepted Jesus as Lord, where gods throne is. Where Jesus is.

Read below anyone not saved in Christ o came to warn others being a watchmen of god I must tell you what's to come as our Bible prophesied of from prophets of old to our Lord Jesus Christ what he said would come as is happening now . I'm giving you the only way to escape the JUDGEMENT coming to your planet and I'm being straight serious when I say judgement is coming and so quick you have no idea. I've seen what's coming to your world in dreams and visions things out Bible speaks of the fireballs, the massive things to hit your planet. As our Bible spoke things are coming that will make men's hearts fail them. I'm giving you an opportunity to escape what's coming to this planet so heed my warning and please accept the only Messiah who died for your sins that all mankind may have eternal life and go to a real heaven whether you die today or Christ raptures his church any second now which he will. Time to wake up as I'm blowing the trumpet Loudly to warn you. I don't Care if you like this or not at least read it so you know what's coming this is just some of it. Wanna​know more write me (Brandon nagley) on Facebook or imagine923 Instagram also Brandon nagley in YouTube in my channel there thanks...


You may ask the question, "How can anyone really know 100% sure that they are going to heaven when they die?" The answer is found in the Scriptures. Here we will not look at what man has to say, but what God says in the Bible. Remember, if what man or religion teaches is contrary to God’s Word - God’s Word is always right over man’s word.


YOU CAN KNOW FOR SURE:

I Jn 5:12-13...
“He that hath the Son hath life; and he that hath not the Son of God hath not life. These things have I written unto you that believe on the name of the Son of God; that ye may know that ye have eternal life, and that ye may believe on the name of the Son of God.”

According to God’s Word one can know that he or she has eternal life. In order to have this settled one must realize Salvation is only through Christ.

SALVATION IS ONLY THROUGH JESUS CHRIST ALONE:

Acts 4:12...
“Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved.”
John 14:6...
“Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.”

Many have been taught salvation is either through church membership, baptism, good works, or taking the sacrament. Most religions teach living a good life is required for one’s salvation.


YOU CAN NOT WORK YOUR WAY TO HEAVEN:

Eph 2:8-9...
“For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast.”...
Titus 3:5...
“Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost;”
Gal 2:16...
“Knowing that a man is not justified by the works of the law, but by the faith of Jesus Christ, even we have believed in Jesus Christ, that we might be justified by the faith of Christ, and not by the works of the law: for by the works of the law shall no flesh be justified.”
Gal 3:10-11...
“For as many as are of the works of the law are under the curse: for it is written, Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them. But that no man is justified by the law in the sight of God, it is evident: for, The just shall live by faith.”
Gal 3:24...
“Wherefore the law was our schoolmaster to bring us unto Christ, that we might be justified by faith.”
Rom 3:20...
" Therefore by the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified in his sight: for by the law is the knowledge of sin".Understand, one can be sincere about their beliefs yet wrong. If you were sick and someone gave you poison to take instead of a medicine remedy; it doesn’t matter how sincere you are about taking what you believe to be medicine - if it is poison, you are in trouble.
Prov 14:12...
“There is a way which seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death.”

God’s Word makes it plain that the gift of salvation is only through Jesus and is by grace, not by doing good things.



According to the Scriptures, to once and for all settle in your heart that you are going to heaven...

THERE ARE A FEW THINGS THAT YOU MUST UNDERSTAND:


1. Why We Need a Saviour? WE ARE ALL SINNERS.

Rom 3:23...
"For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;"
Rom 5:12...
"Wherefore, as by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned:"
Rom 3:19...
"Now we know that what things soever the law saith, it saith to them who are under the law: that every mouth may be stopped, and all the world may become guilty before God."
James 2:10...
"For whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all."

Unless you admit you are a sinner; you will never see the real need for the Saviour. If we could get to heaven by our good works, why did Christ have to suffer such agony on the Cross?


2. If we die without Christ as our Saviour there is a penalty of eternal punishment in Hell.

Rev 21:8...
"But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death."
Rev 20:14-15...
"And death and hell were cast into the lake of fire. This is the second death. And whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire."


3. Christ paid the penalty for our sin. We MUST receive Him as our personal Lord and Saviour.

Isa 53:6...
"All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all."
Gal 3:13...
"Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for us: for it is written, Cursed is every one that hangeth on a tree:"
Rom 5:8...
"But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."
John 3:16...
"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.


4. Receive Christ as your Saviour.


In conclusion:
If you have already admitted you are a sinner and according to the Bible deserve to go to hell and if you believe with your heart that Christ died for your sins and arose from the grave the third day...
YOU MUST PERSONALLY BY FAITH RECEIVE CHRIST AS YOUR SAVIOUR!

Rom 10:9-109...
"That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation."

Right now after reading these Scriptures if you would simply bow your head and call upon the name of the Lord He will save you and give you eternal life. Remember, it is not just believing. Satan believes in God but that certainly doesn’t mean that he is going to heaven.

Rom 10:13...
"For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved."
John 1:12...
"But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name:"

Your Salvation is your own personal choice now. You can either RECEIVE CHRIST or REJECT HIM. It is up to you. Salvation is determined by what you do with Christ.

If read what's up top wanna make Lord Jesus your Messiah and be saved in him and have eternal security. Peace. Through God please say sinner's prayer below . Get yourself a Bible kjv preferably if not that a nkjv... Because many denominations are changing scriptural words and adding also taking words out. Please say prayer below mean it believe it trust Christ now. Your times running out... That's truth.
Please note: The Salvation Prayer (sometimes referred to as the    Sinner’s Prayer) below, is not an “official prayer” but rather a sample prayer to follow when asking Jesus into your heart. You can pray to God in your own words if you choose.
Regarding the location of the Sinner’s Prayer in the Bible? Well, there isn’t one mentioned; it is only implied. The basis of the Sinner’s Prayer comes from Romans 10:9-10. “That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation.”
Close eyes now bow head
We pray to god the father in his son Jesus' name.
(SALVATION PRAYER)

Dear God, I come to you Right now and admit I'm a lost sinner who deserves to go to hell if I died today/tonight. I believe your son Jesus died and rose again the 3rd day as scripture says. I believe your son Jesus is the only way to eternal life and salvation. I want to accept Jesus your son right now into my heart and life. I am turning from my sinfulness right now. And am making Jesus my Lord and Savior. So I ask Jesus be my lord and Savior today, as I turn from these sins I've lived in. Thank you for saving me, as I will live my life for you.
( End prayer in Jesus name)
In Jesus  name I pray, amen...

Also follow Christs teaching ( especially loving one another , and forgive always) .to overcome sins let his holy spirit in you work in you, as we all sin and must stay in constant repentance as if do sin, lord is willing to forgive you though you must repent meaning turn to Christ away from sin. Also study Bible daily soak in gods words. Tell others who Jesus is spread his gospel wether by showing Christs love or prophesying whatever gods gift is he gave you. Use it. We're all given a different talents as gospel sais. Also get baptised if can if can find good church or good pastor to who speaks on hell heaven salvation not money preaching churches all glitz glamour leads you to hell Churches. Baptism isn't required for salvation it's a representation of Christs death his burial and resurrection. We usually get baptized after salvation to follow what he did because we love him and want to follow our lord, so if do get saved try to get baptised in a godly church though if cant it doesn't mean you aren't saved, as said baptism doesnt save us .Pray you accept Jesus Christ asap, times short.

Also wanna get more details can also read my poem called (nibirus approach, or one titled for all poets to read, serious note)

I came here to bring light and truth where there is none. I'm no prophet nor do I predict anything, I'm just here to give you the message of Christ's love for Every one of you and for you to accept him now as Lord and savior before it's to late for you to do so. Because much deception is being pushed in the world as Satan's working hard to decieve and blind many eye's.... Telling you the world will save you or materials or fake gods that sit in tombs or how good you live or that your own works of being a good person will get you to heaven or that there are many paths to heaven! All demonic inspired lies from Satan himself
Don't be tricked reader and read all I wrote accept Jesus Christ today as your savior. Your eternal destination is yours to choose. God made hell for the devil and his demons not for you as gospel spoke. Yet when you reject his love and Christ on your free Will it's what you choose. I know it's not (popular,) to tell you truth but I'm not here to be popular I'm here to bring you raw truth and gods light. We have free will to choose and it hurts Christ Everytime people reject him and choose themselves and the world. What will you choose today poet??? Think hard and deep and make your decision quick... I know truth many wanna shut out but I came to give up so heed my warning.
STROPHE IV

Though Zeus plan all things right,
Yet is his heart's desire full hard to trace;
Nathless in every place
Brightly it gleameth, e'en in darkest night,
Fraught with black fate to man's speech-gifted race.

ANTISTROPHE IV

Steadfast, ne'er thrown in fight,
The deed in brow of Zeus to ripeness brought;
For wrapt in shadowy night,
Tangled, unscanned by mortal sight,
Extend the pathways of his secret thought.

STROPHE V

From towering hopes mortals he hurleth prone
To utter doom; but for their fall
No force arrayeth he; for all
That gods devise is without effort wrought.
A mindful Spirit aloft on holy throne
By inborn energy achieves his thought.

ANTISTROPHE V

But let him mortal insolence behold:--
How with proud contumacy rife,
Wantons the stem in ***** life
My marriage craving;--frenzy over-bold,
Spur ever-pricking, goads them on to fate,
By ruin taught their folly all too late.

STROPHE VI

Thus I complain, in piteous strain,
Grief-laden, tear-evoking, shrill;
Ah woe is me! woe! woe!
Dirge-like it sounds; mine own death-trill
I pour, yet breathing vital air.
Hear, hill-crowned Apia, hear my prayer!
Full well, O land,
My voice barbaric thou canst understand;
While oft with rendings I assail
My byssine vesture and Sidonian veil.

ANTISTROPHE VI

My nuptial right in Heaven's pure sight
Pollution were, death-laden, rude;
Ah woe is me! woe! woe!
Alas for sorrow's murky brood!
Where will this billow hurl me? Where?
Hear, hill-crowned Apia, hear my prayer;
Full well, O land,
My voice barbaric thou canst understand,
While oft with rendings I assail
My byssine vesture and Sidonian veil.

STROPHE VII

The oar indeed and home with sails
Flax-tissued, swelled with favoring gales,
Staunch to the wave, from spear-storm free,
Have to this shore escorted me,
Nor so far blame I destiny.
But may the all-seeing Father send
In fitting time propitious end;
So our dread Mother's mighty brood,
The lordly couch may 'scape, ah me,
Unwedded, unsubdued!

ANTISTROPHE VII

Meeting my will with will divine,
Daughter of Zeus, who here dost hold
Steadfast thy sacred shrine,--
Me, Artemis unstained, behold,
Do thou, who sovereign might dost wield,
****** thyself, a ****** shield;

So our dread Mother's mighty brood
The lordly couch may 'scape, ah me,
Unwedded, unsubdued!
Harshit Jain Apr 2017
Seetaro mai akela chaand si thi wo
Foolon ka mehekta guldan si thi wo
Thi nadi jaisi aviral,chanchal
mere dil ka haal si thi wo

Ghani dhoop mai chav si thi wo
Kisi geet ki addaon si thi wo
Thi hava si mehekti, komal
Mere dil ka bhav si thi wo

Beech majhdhaar mai nav si thi wo
Khusian ka pura gaon si thi wo
Thi koyal si meethi,nishchal
Mere man ka abhiman si thi wo

Paido par wo patto waali hari bhari koi daal si thi wo
Holi ke rango mai sabse saadi ek akeli gulaal si thi wo
Thi wadi kasmiri koi
Mere geeton ka sur aur taal si thi wo

Mandir mai wo shankhnaad si,pooja ka prasad si thi wo
Baarish mai mitti ki khushboo,badal ka dharti se sanvaad si thi wo
Thi meri wo beti pyari,usse hi ghar 'harshit' tha
Mere ghar mai sooraj si,Mere ghar ki shaan si thi wo

Thi ab wo jo nahi rahi,aakhir khata kya thi ki usne
mana hi to kia tha na beta shaadi se,
Par dosti ka haath bhi to badhaya tha
Teri Bezatti toh nahi thi ki usne
Fir kyun tune usko har ghar badnaam kia
Dushman na kare,dost hokar tune aisa kaam kia
Chali gayi ab chhod ke mujhko,wo akele jeevan ki saanjh mai
Meri khushiyan,meri duniya,meri pyari jaan si thi wo
Meri pyari jaan si thi wo
Alia Kansas Nov 2010
Dost thou not tread so gently in the night?
Unto thy face thy fear do not display,
Upon thy brow dost thou not show delight?
Yet who can say tis so, O who can say!
Thy lips tell tales of sweetest love and worth,
And night creep slow to make a pallid face,
It shows such woes and sorrows, death and birth,
Mortality directs it to the place.
Thou often wonder if thine face show young,
If time did not etch lines upon thy skin,
The words of thee would live not on thy tongue,
No rhymes or tales would ere end or begin.
Without the fears and years displayed to thine,
How dost thou face display the pass of time?

oh my Love, why dost Thy tear up this heart
whereas noone has ever lived inside
Thee, no comparison, nor any part
of this felt alone, 'tis Thee Who resides

'tis Thy Love to breath, what i need indeed
forever Ye'll be in this life of mine
my all belongs to Ye, for Thee i bleed
for everythin' that is, be Thine

why dost Thou break it, again 'n' again
this body created be holdin' its soul
why is it for me hard to understand
i don't need to know everything's role

oh ofcourse, Ye know, 'tis within my tears
my love too little, my biggest of fears

*
..love always...



عرفان بن يوسف © AH 16/03/1439


'a (Shakespearean) Sonnet'
Jacob Traver Mar 2014
Why dost thou hate me for I did thee no wrong?
Our love once strong you now swiftly flee
Thus I bid thee farewell with this harrowing song.

I would have searched for thee among the throng.
There was nothing that could keep my heart from thee.
Why dost thou hate me for I did thee no wrong?

Thy voice always lovely, Thy beauty remains strong,
But your lips dripped with lies which I could not see.
Thus I bid thee farewell with this harrowing song.

How sweetly thou carried me gently along,
Only to shun my steadfast loving plea
Why dost thou hate me for I did thee no wrong?

Hence the pain in my soul you constantly prolong
And I despise thee and my agony is set free
Thus I bid thee farewell with this harrowing song!

And to whom’s passion thou now belong,
She is your Jezebel. To you, I could not see
Why dost thou hate me for I did thee no wrong?
Thus I bid thee farewell with this harrowing song.
Judgson blessing Feb 2015
No, do  dread my glance ,im Helen.
im the purest creature of rage ****.
a lapse glance alas , a doom .
a dream of Luth's sealed gloom.
sinister glare of Gomorrah bright.
soured sight of sere flower blight.
im venomous kiss of sweetest lips.
deadliest breath of daughter of Rappicini.
come fair son of light and beauty.
date me  with naive lurking desire.
receive my poisonous breath satire .
i will sail thee near a pestilent fountain.
im the sinister Titania and Bottom and more i contain.
behold you not  with my innocent beauty .
perverse is my nature intend but my name holy.
dost cross the path to purity on mount Sinai.
cause i shall rule and Helen the offspring of my ****.
is lure untamed fiend,feed her she behold with leech.
no, one of my breath is a blast to thy life to leash.
my glare is illuminated like azure Vegas.
my nectar Pompeii larva of past .
my beauty is heaven flame it charms .
come; rich, beauty ,savant and fame.
for thou dost not behold with immortal Ichor.
sip deep my breath.
and meddle you with my luring glare.
im Titania i hang over my head a dagger.
upon which thy blood stream to the Bottom.
thou thinkest to entwine me ?
no,lo King Cophetua and the beggar maid.
and my judgement hell fire .
Thebes is in rout but Capaneus bid dust.
what dost thou want ,thou Sophist ?
no the sojourn of thee is Zeus Kirma.
beset for worst as the writ Apocrypha.
come thee savant ,come thee poet.
bekneel before the sacred attire .
heaven bow before the holy Dionysus.
for we beset you with  frenzy ,ecstasy, and drama.
all behold the same destiny.
but elixir yonder in Kimmerian trinity.
try not you for eternal bloom .
cause error at Achille right heel.
but Maqueros, Lazarus , and Leviticus.
all will queenly glance at our Caduceus.
behold you not my beauty.
but behold you with our Pow wow.
behold you ! say Amen RA.
Alyssa Underwood Apr 2016
From depths of woe I raise to Thee
The voice of lamentation;
Lord, turn a gracious ear to me
And hear my supplication;
If Thou iniquities dost mark,
Our secret sins and misdeeds dark,
O who shall stand before Thee?

To wash away the crimson stain,
Grace, grace alone availeth;
Our works, alas! are all in vain;
In much the best life faileth:
No man can glory in Thy sight,
All must alike confess Thy might,
And live alone by mercy.

Therefore my trust is in the Lord,
And not in mine own merit;
On Him my soul shall rest, His Word
Upholds my fainting spirit:
His promised mercy is my fort,
My comfort, and my sweet support;
I wait for it with patience.

What though I wait the livelong night,
And till the dawn appeareth,
My heart still trusteth in His might;
It doubteth not nor feareth:
Do thus, O ye of Israel’s seed,
Ye of the Spirit born indeed;
And wait till God appeareth.

Though great our sins and sore our woes,
His grace much more aboundeth;
His helping love no limit knows,
Our utmost need it soundeth.
Our Shepherd good and true is He,
Who will at last His Israel free.
From all their sin and sorrow.

                           ~ Martin Luther (1483-1546)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1aVWBSmghAs
Lord God that dost me save and keep,
All day to thee I cry;
And all night long, before thee weep
Before thee prostrate lie.
Into thy presence let my praier
With sighs devout ascend
And to my cries, that ceaseless are,
Thine ear with favour bend.
For cloy’d with woes and trouble store
Surcharg’d my Soul doth lie,
My life at death’s uncherful dore
Unto the grave draws nigh.
Reck’n'd I am with them that pass
Down to the dismal pit
I am a man, but weak alas               * Heb. A man without manly
And for that name unfit.                                  strength.
From life discharg’d and parted quite
Among the dead to sleep
And like the slain in ****** fight
That in the grave lie deep.
Whom thou rememberest no more,
Dost never more regard,
Them from thy hand deliver’d o’re
Deaths hideous house hath barr’d.
Thou in the lowest pit profound’
Hast set me all forlorn,
Where thickest darkness hovers round,
In horrid deeps to mourn.
Thy wrath from which no shelter saves
Full sore doth press on me;
Thou break’st upon me all thy waves,                      The Heb.
And all thy waves break me                              bears both.
Thou dost my friends from me estrange,
And mak’st me odious,
Me to them odious, for they change,
And I here pent up thus.
Through sorrow, and affliction great
Mine eye grows dim and dead,
Lord all the day I thee entreat,
My hands to thee I spread.
Wilt thou do wonders on the dead,
Shall the deceas’d arise
And praise thee from their loathsom bed
With pale and hollow eyes ?
Shall they thy loving kindness tell
On whom the grave hath hold,
Or they who in perdition dwell
Thy faithfulness unfold?
In darkness can thy mighty hand
Or wondrous acts be known,
Thy justice in the gloomy land
Of dark oblivion?
But I to thee O Lord do cry
E’re yet my life be spent,
And up to thee my praier doth hie
Each morn, and thee prevent.
Why wilt thou Lord my soul forsake,
And hide thy face from me,
That am already bruis’d, and shake          Heb. Prae Concussione.
With terror sent from thee;
Bruz’d, and afflicted and so low
As ready to expire,
While I thy terrors undergo
Astonish’d with thine ire.
Thy fierce wrath over me doth flow
Thy threatnings cut me through.
All day they round about me go,
Like waves they me persue.
Lover and friend thou hast remov’d
And sever’d from me far.
They fly me now whom I have lov’d,
And as in darkness are.
Aap
Ek naadan parinde ka haath aapne thaama,
Apne dil mein diya sabse khubsurat thikana.

Phool ki mehak ko jaata nahi churaya.
Suraj ki kirne ko jaata nahi chupaya.

Khuda ne itna sikhaya hai mujhe,
Aapke liye dua karu khud se pehle.

Mere dil ka dard kisne hai dekha,
Ye dost muskaan ke peeche ki kahani padh leta.

Vaada karte hain ye rishta dil se nibhayenge,
Aapki shiddat mein hadd se guzar jayenge.

Dil se maangi thi dua rabb se,
Qubool hui ibadat mulakaat hui jab aapse.

Duniya ki daulat hey ishwar nahi chahiye mujhe,
Sabse anmol tohfa mila jo jud gaye sanjog unse.

Dadhkano ki dadhakti har awaaz hai sirf unki,
Pyaar mein tabdil ** gayi hamari dosti.

Chand sa hai mukhda,
Mere jigar ka tukda.

Bin tere jiyenge ab hum na ek pal,
Tujhse juda hai aane wala har kal.

Bhut sataya humne aapko aapka jawab dene mein,
Hanji hum bhi chahte hain aapko aapki shiddat se.

Jud gye dil se dil tak,
Mujh par sirf hai aapka hakk.

Rooh se rooh ka rishta hai hamara,
Tujh bin ek pal nahi humein gavara.

Chadha diya hum par rang apna,
Poora hua ek pyaara sa sapna.

Aasman mein jab tak sitaro ka hai basera,
Ek dusre ka hain hum sahara.

Meri zindagi ke saaton janam hai aapke naam,
Aapke hi rahenge hum bheja khuda ko paigaam.

Pyaar mera rago mein lahu ban daude,
Apna sab kuch tum par qurbaan kar de.

Tum saath ** tou zindagi mein hai bahaar,
Tere bina zindagi bhi hai meri bekaar.

Khuda kasam har saans sirf tumhari,
Tumse hi judi hai zindagi hamari.

Rabb jaane kya lekh likhe unhone,
Milaya hai jab aage bhi whi sambhale.

Mai teri ** gayi haa mahiya,
Har kadam saath hain hum saathiya.

Rabb se pehle tumko yaad kiya,
Apna dil tumhe de diya .

Sacchi mohabbat tumse kar baithe,
Pta nahi chala kab hum aapke ** gye.

Zindagi se judi hai hayat aapki,
Aapka pyaar jaise maa ki thapki.

Har mod par saath hai aapke,
Chahe waqt kitni karwat badal le.

Aapki pagli sirf aapki hai yaara,
Tum bin kaun hai hamara.

Intezaar hai besabri se humein us din ka,
Jis din aapke naam se judega naam hamara.

Aapka har dukh hamara hai sajna,
Hamari har khushi par naam hai aapka.

Tumko bhi hai khabar,
Aye mere humsafar.

Maut ki gaud mein sone ke baad bhi,
Alwida nahi hai kehna humein kabhi.

Gujarish hai khuda se ,
Kabhi juda na karna unse.

Ek sang hi mitti ki chadar odh so jayenge,
Sacchi mohabbat dil se nibhayenge.

Mohabbat se kai upar hai mohaabat aapse,
Aisa koi shabd nahi jo ise piro ske.

Chaha tha humesha se humsafar mahadev jaisa,
Qubool hui dua hamari jo mila mahiya aisa.

Dilon ki awaaz mein hai itna asar,
Yaad kare joo ** jaati hai khabar.

Ibadat karne ka wo khubsurat lamha mile,
Tou hum apne humsafar  ke saamne sajda kar le.
Cecilia Oct 2010
Wouldst thou take my hand? Or wouldst thou leave it?
Wouldst thou ever see, thou art mine love dear.
But dost thou show thine heart? Nay, thine just sit!
Dost thou know mine intentions? Dost thou hear?

Though lady I am, lady I will be,
Thine silence has close to have me go mad.
I wish to simply tell you truth, you see
Explain the feeling for so long I've had

I am not sure of Man, I'm sure of me
But that dost not mean man cannot be seen
For Man is not the truth, but man art thee
And man thou art that I do dream unclean

And though I dare not say that I'm in love
Your smile makes my heart flutter like a dove
Trying out a sonnet, but I think I laid on the "thou" and "thine" a little thick...
725

Where Thou art—that—is Home—
Cashmere—or Calvary—the same—
Degree—or Shame—
I scarce esteem Location’s Name—
So I may Come—

What Thou dost—is Delight—
******* as Play—be sweet—
Imprisonment—Content—
And Sentence—Sacrament—
Just We two—meet—

Where Thou art not—is Woe—
Tho’ Bands of Spices—row—
What Thou dost not—Despair—
Tho’ Gabriel—praise me—Sire—
Marty Mar 2018
Why dost my name cross thy tongue?  A demonic utterance, mocking the shadows on the wall. Flickering light shining through the gaps, piercing the evenings light. Screaming whispers meant for none to hear. Deafening silence mocking the empty soul. Why dost my name cross thy tongue? Dreams and visions parade with  enchanting words, giving loves final dance. Only if there could be one more chance. Ultimate shame with no one to blame. Screaming! Screaming! No one to hear. Pawing and clawing into a deeper pool. Drowning! wrapped tightly, bound in the unforgiving cloth. Squeezing each beat of the heart farther and farther apart. Mock and mock they may, as they pray for another day. Listen not, for they cannot make the choice to stay. Screams and screams to the heavens have went, but where were they. Miss me not for this is the final farewell. Why dost my name cross thy tongue?
"And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest."


The earth was green, the sky was blue:
  I saw and heard one sunny morn
A skylark hang between the two,
  A singing speck above the corn;

A stage below, in gay accord,
  White butterflies danced on the wing,
And still the singing skylark soared
  And silent sank, and soared to sing.

The cornfield stretched a tender green
  To right and left beside my walks;
I knew he had a nest unseen
  Somewhere among the million stalks:

And as I paused to hear his song
  While swift the sunny moments slid,
Perhaps his mate sat listening long,
  And listened longer than I did.
Up, O ye lovers, and away! 'Tis time to leave the world for aye.
Hark, loud and clear from heaven the from of parting calls-let none delay!
The cameleer hat risen amain, made ready all the camel-train,
And quittance now desires to gain: why sleep ye, travellers, I pray?
Behind us and before there swells the din of parting and of bells;
To shoreless space each moment sails a disembodied spirit away.
From yonder starry lights, and through those curtain-awnings darkly blue,
Mysterious figures float in view, all strange and secret things display.
From this orb, wheeling round its pole, a wondrous slumber o'er thee stole:
O weary life that weighest naught, O sleep that on my soul dost weigh!
O heart, toward they heart's love wend, and O friend, fly toward the Friend,
Be wakeful, watchman, to the end: drowse seemingly no watchman may.
brandon nagley Jun 2016
The lumad in her doesn't go away,
The map's of time; written  
Upon her face. O' the
Stories, of her kin dost speak; an empress
Of the Subanon, she is strong, I weak.

Tis she's sedulous, in her way's of hard
Work, knowledge do I gain, she guideth
Me in the rain; she dryeth mine tear's,
With her malong of royal worth.

Tis God's known her from her birth,
He picked her from the Mindanao Sea;
Verily, verily she's a sacred one,
Every breath she breathes is turquoise green.

And when she takes her daily breath,
Psalm's compose inside her chest, inside
Her chest where her heart doth beat;
Beat's of holiness, in whitened sheets.

Wild child of unknown path's, mine
Guide, mine friend, soulmate of the past;
Lover now, as wilt alway's be, do I learn,
So much I've yearned, from God's eastern breeze.

O' tis she's free, she's just like me,
As I am her; O' I am her; she call's
Me pookie, she's mine mi amour,
Mine Reyna, girl, Jehovah's daughter.


©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane Nagley dedicated ( àgapi mou)
Jane where she comes from in Misamis Occidental in Philippines is this- where lumad comes in - Brief History
The province was previously called Misamis. It was originally peopled by indigenous people called Lumads, in which the Subanon tribe was dominant. Circa 1700s, Misamis was threatened by marauding pirates from nearby Lanao.  
The pirates used to abduct 500 Filipinos a year to sell as slaves to the Dutch’s United East India Company in Java, or to the Portuguese in Jakarta. Northern Mindanao was hardest hit, particularly Misamis.  
To evade the pirates, many Subanons migrated to Misamis Oriental and Zamboanga del Norte, particularly Dapitan.
In 1756, Father Ducos built the Fort Santiago Ozamis to defend against the pirates. He named it ‘El Fuerte De Nuestra Señora Del La Concecion Del Triunfo’ (Our Lady of Triumph) in honor of Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception. He also created a naval armada he himself commanded.
In 1929, Misamis Occidental was founded following the division of Misamis into two… the other half is Misamis Oriental.
In World War II, the province was briefly occupied by the Japanese invaders. It was liberated in 1945.
Finally, peace embraced the province.
Its capital is Oroquieta City which also seats the Provincial Capitol.The history of the Philippines from 1521 to 1898, also known as the Spanish Colonial Era, begins with the arrival in 1521 of European explorer Ferdinand Magellan sailing for Spain, which heralded the period when the Philippines was a colony of the Spanish Empire, and ends with the outbreak of the Spanish–American War in 1898, which marked the beginning of the American Colonial Era of Philippine history. Many don't know as it happened in usa the Europeans and Spanish invaded not just America as its called now and stole the land of the Original native peoples here and killed ( slaughtered, brought disease to this Land,) and displaced the natives already here on small plots of land where at one time this whole land they roamed free, as well as all natives here their materials and lands goods like gold sacred mountains spiritual places were taken and can go on down the line of a list of things, not including tons of chiefs and medicine men and shamans here locked into insane asylums by our gvt and elders afraid to talk about it these men were locked into insane asylums because they spoke to the animal's, nature were spiritual in tuned in ( reality ) not crazies they were locked away for worshiping god should show you how well Satan influenced what was brought here and across the globe ,a group of people went into the insane asylum I as talking about this all was opened up by chief golden light eagle member of the
Ihunktowan Dakota Nation , people went into this same insane asylum was speaking of and realized everyone locked away in their wasnt ( nuts or crazy) but we're all released and chief golden light eagle had one grandpa die in their and another imprisoned in there, as Spanish just like they did here with Europeans invaded into Jane's tribal land, and destroyed so much and took so much that belongs to the native peoples of Janes country , and irony now my country runs so much military operations in the Philippines using native land as they do here for curruption and destruction! It's disgusting!

More word meanings,

Tis- it is,
sedulous-(of a person or action) showing dedication and diligence
Malong- Malong
The malong is traditionally used as a garment by numerous tribes
in the Southern Philippines and the Sulu Archipelago.
Its origin is from the ethnical group of Maranao,
Maguindanao and T’boli located in Mindanao.
Handwoven malongs are made by the weavers on a backstrap loom.
Very rare malong designs and styles can indicate the village in which the malong was made.
Handwoven malongs, which are costly- made of cotton and silk,
are likely to be used only at social functions, to display
the social and economic status of the wearer.
But a malong in royal colours is worn only by Maranao men and women of royal status.
The malong can also function as a skirt for both men and women,
a dress, a blanket, a bedsheet, a hammock, a prayer mat, and other purposes.
Mindanao sea, is closest to Misamis Occidental.
Verily, means truly or certainly
Psalms- sacred song or hymn, religious verses
Doth- another form of does, just like dost.
Jehovah - one of the names for god in hebrew.
549

That I did always love
I bring thee Proof
That till I loved
I never lived—Enough—

That I shall love alway—
I argue thee
That love is life—
And life hath Immortality—

This—dost thou doubt—Sweet—
Then have I
Nothing to show
But Calvary—
Jason Walsh Jul 2013
Thou art not but a siren,
Singing thine song.
Thou do not but lure the hearts of men,
Into thine caltrop of a jaw.

Not devouring instantly,
But instead thou bides thine time.
Thou pleasures before thou feasts.
Thou waits until the opportune shade of sundial,
When the hearts of men art trustworthy.
Thou feeds upon them as if a beast.

But dost thou have beauty?
But dost thou have charm?
But dost thou have wit?
This is why thou cannot resist.
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
To nature, and to hers, and my good is dead,
And her soul early into heaven ravished,
Wholly in heavenly things my mind is set.
Here the admiring her my mind did whet
To seek thee, God; so streams do show the head;
But though I have found thee, and thou my thirst hast fed,
A holy thirsty dropsy melts me yet.
But why should I beg more love, whenas thou
Dost woo my soul, for hers off'ring all thine,
And dost not only fear lest I allow
My love to saints and angels, things divine,
But in thy tender jealousy dost doubt
Lest the world, flesh, yea devil put thee out.
The sad and solemn night
  Hath yet her multitude of cheerful fires;
    The glorious host of light
  Walk the dark hemisphere till she retires;
  All through her silent watches, gliding slow,
Her constellations come, and climb the heavens, and go.

    Day, too, hath many a star
  To grace his gorgeous reign, as bright as they:
    Through the blue fields afar,
  Unseen, they follow in his flaming way:
  Many a bright lingerer, as the eve grows dim,
Tells what a radiant troop arose and set with him.

    And thou dost see them rise,
  Star of the Pole! and thou dost see them set.
    Alone, in thy cold skies,
  Thou keep'st thy old unmoving station yet,
  Nor join'st the dances of that glittering train,
Nor dipp'st thy ****** orb in the blue western main.

    There, at morn's rosy birth,
  Thou lookest meekly through the kindling air,
    And eve, that round the earth
  Chases the day, beholds thee watching there;
  There noontide finds thee, and the hour that calls
The shapes of polar flame to scale heaven's azure walls.

    Alike, beneath thine eye,
  The deeds of darkness and of light are done;
    High towards the star-lit sky
  Towns blaze--the smoke of battle blots the sun--
  The night-storm on a thousand hills is loud--
And the strong wind of day doth mingle sea and cloud.

    On thy unaltering blaze
  The half-wrecked mariner, his compass lost,
    Fixes his steady gaze,
  And steers, undoubting, to the friendly coast;
  And they who stray in perilous wastes, by night,
Are glad when thou dost shine to guide their footsteps right.

    And, therefore, bards of old,
  Sages, and hermits of the solemn wood,
    Did in thy beams behold
  A beauteous type of that unchanging good,
  That bright eternal beacon, by whose ray
The voyager of time should shape his heedful way.
1736

Proud of my broken heart, since thou didst break it,
Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee,

Proud of my night, since thou with moons dost slake it,
Not to partake thy passion, my humility.

Thou can’st not boast, like Jesus, drunken without companion
Was the strong cup of anguish brewed for the Nazarene

Thou can’st not pierce tradition with the peerless puncture,
See! I usurped thy crucifix to honor mine!
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou **** me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou'art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy'or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
A midnight black with clouds is in the sky;
I seem to feel, upon my limbs, the weight
Of its vast brooding shadow. All in vain
Turns the tired eye in search of form; no star
Pierces the pitchy veil; no ruddy blaze,
From dwellings lighted by the cheerful hearth,
Tinges the flowering summits of the grass.
No sound of life is heard, no village hum,
Nor measured ***** of footstep in the path,
Nor rush of wing, while, on the breast of Earth,
I lie and listen to her mighty voice:
A voice of many tones--sent up from streams
That wander through the gloom, from woods unseen,
Swayed by the sweeping of the tides of air,
From rocky chasms where darkness dwells all day,
And hollows of the great invisible hills,
And sands that edge the ocean, stretching far
Into the night--a melancholy sound!

  O Earth! dost thou too sorrow for the past
Like man thy offspring? Do I hear thee mourn
Thy childhood's unreturning hours, thy springs
Gone with their genial airs and melodies,
The gentle generations of thy flowers,
And thy majestic groves of olden time,
Perished with all their dwellers? Dost thou wail
For that fair age of which the poets tell,
Ere the rude winds grew keen with frost, or fire
Fell with the rains, or spouted from the hills,
To blast thy greenness, while the ****** night
Was guiltless and salubrious as the day?
Or haply dost thou grieve for those that die--
For living things that trod thy paths awhile,
The love of thee and heaven--and now they sleep
Mixed with the shapeless dust on which thy herds
Trample and graze? I too must grieve with thee,
O'er loved ones lost. Their graves are far away
Upon thy mountains; yet, while I recline
Alone, in darkness, on thy naked soil,
The mighty nourisher and burial-place
Of man, I feel that I embrace their dust.

  Ha! how the murmur deepens! I perceive
And tremble at its dreadful import. Earth
Uplifts a general cry for guilt and wrong,
And heaven is listening. The forgotten graves
Of the heart-broken utter forth their plaint.
The dust of her who loved and was betrayed,
And him who died neglected in his age;
The sepulchres of those who for mankind
Laboured, and earned the recompense of scorn;
Ashes of martyrs for the truth, and bones
Of those who, in the strife for liberty,
Were beaten down, their corses given to dogs,
Their names to infamy, all find a voice.
The nook in which the captive, overtoiled,
Lay down to rest at last, and that which holds
Childhood's sweet blossoms, crushed by cruel hands,
Send up a plaintive sound. From battle-fields,
Where heroes madly drave and dashed their hosts
Against each other, rises up a noise,
As if the armed multitudes of dead
Stirred in their heavy slumber. Mournful tones
Come from the green abysses of the sea--
story of the crimes the guilty sought
To hide beneath its waves. The glens, the groves,
Paths in the thicket, pools of running brook,
And banks and depths of lake, and streets and lanes
Of cities, now that living sounds are hushed,
Murmur of guilty force and treachery.

  Here, where I rest, the vales of Italy
Are round me, populous from early time,
And field of the tremendous warfare waged
'Twixt good and evil. Who, alas, shall dare
Interpret to man's ear the mingled voice
That comes from her old dungeons yawning now
To the black air, her amphitheatres,
Where the dew gathers on the mouldering stones,
And fanes of banished gods, and open tombs,
And roofless palaces, and streets and hearths
Of cities dug from their volcanic graves?
I hear a sound of many languages,
The utterance of nations now no more,
Driven out by mightier, as the days of heaven
Chase one another from the sky. The blood
Of freemen shed by freemen, till strange lords
Came in the hour of weakness, and made fast
The yoke that yet is worn, cries out to Heaven.

  What then shall cleanse thy *****, gentle Earth
From all its painful memories of guilt?
The whelming flood, or the renewing fire,
Or the slow change of time? that so, at last,
The horrid tale of perjury and strife,
****** and spoil, which men call history,
May seem a fable, like the inventions told
By poets of the gods of Greece. O thou,
Who sittest far beyond the Atlantic deep,
Among the sources of thy glorious streams,
My native Land of Groves! a newer page
In the great record of the world is thine;
Shall it be fairer? Fear, and friendly hope,
And envy, watch the issue, while the lines,
By which thou shalt be judged, are written down.
L B Dec 2017
A beer can, phone book, a grapefruit
and an Advent wreath
with four candles
in its nest of greens
Two weeks
Two lit
Third one's the Pink
a life three quarters spent?

Next weekend
Saturday-- The Sabbath
falls in Hanukkah

“Blessed art thou, Lord our God
King of the universe
who dost create lights of fire...”

I'll light that third-- the pink one
like a barbarian wise woman
who traveled too far along life's way
to find a Jewish baby, wrapped in rags

...or, was it the old guy that night
lying in the street
outside a New England bar

“Oh Christ! Ya gotta be kidding me!”

Nope, He was there alright

Wallowing in the freezing slush
amid his helpless drunken cries
No cell phones then
Scrapped my pizza plans

On foot alone
waving in frustration  
in the passing headlights
a turquoise, wind-crazed scarecrow
_

“Someone's gotta stop?
Someone has to help us, don't they?”
_

Now there are two beer cans
a grapefruit, and a phone book
beside the advent wreath

Third candle lit and leaning out
for hope along the way
In memory of--
Louise McDermott, my daughter's godmother who gave us the Advent wreath.
and Joannie Handleman, my best buddy in music and crime who taught me her family's traditions  and Yiddish expressions.
Shrivastva MK Sep 2017
Aapko khuda ne badi fursat se banaya hai,
Etni pyari si muskan aapke hothon par sajaya hai,
Aapki ye sararati aankhon ne,
Har pal ko khushnuma aur khubsurat banaya hai,

Aapne Ghar ko mandir banaya hai,
Maat-Pita Ki sewa kar unhe bhagwan ka darja dilaya hai,
Aap najane kis mitti Ki bani **,
Khud aansoo bahake bhi sabhi ko hasaya hai,

Aap jaisa dost humne badi muskil se paya hai,
Aaj gum bhulakar phir se humne muskuraya hai,
Ruthi kalam ko manakar humne,
Aaj aapko apni kavita me sazaya hai,
Apni kavita me sajaya hai....
Fountain, that springest on this grassy *****,
Thy quick cool murmur mingles pleasantly,
With the cool sound of breezes in the beach,
Above me in the noontide. Thou dost wear
No stain of thy dark birthplace; gushing up
From the red mould and slimy roots of earth,
Thou flashest in the sun. The mountain air,
In winter, is not clearer, nor the dew
That shines on mountain blossom. Thus doth God
Bring, from the dark and foul, the pure and bright.

  This tangled thicket on the bank above
Thy basin, how thy waters keep it green!
For thou dost feed the roots of the wild vine
That trails all over it, and to the twigs
Ties fast her clusters. There the spice-bush lifts
Her leafy lances; the viburnum there,
Paler of foliage, to the sun holds up
Her circlet of green berries. In and out
The chipping sparrow, in her coat of brown,
Steals silently, lest I should mark her nest.

  Not such thou wert of yore, ere yet the axe
Had smitten the old woods. Then hoary trunks
Of oak, and plane, and hickory, o'er thee held
A mighty canopy. When April winds
Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush
Of scarlet flowers. The tulip-tree, high up,
Opened, in airs of June, her multitude
Of golden chalices to humming-birds
And silken-winged insects of the sky.

  Frail wood-plants clustered round thy edge in Spring.
The liverleaf put forth her sister blooms
Of faintest blue. Here the quick-footed wolf,
Passing to lap thy waters, crushed the flower
Of sanguinaria, from whose brittle stem
The red drops fell like blood. The deer, too, left
Her delicate foot-print in the soft moist mould,
And on the fallen leaves. The slow-paced bear,
In such a sultry summer noon as this,
Stopped at thy stream, and drank, and leaped across.

  But thou hast histories that stir the heart
With deeper feeling; while I look on thee
They rise before me. I behold the scene
Hoary again with forests; I behold
The Indian warrior, whom a hand unseen
Has smitten with his death-wound in the woods,
Creep slowly to thy well-known rivulet,
And slake his death-thirst. Hark, that quick fierce cry
That rends the utter silence; 'tis the whoop
Of battle, and a throng of savage men
With naked arms and faces stained like blood,
Fill the green wilderness; the long bare arms
Are heaved aloft, bows twang and arrows stream;
Each makes a tree his shield, and every tree
Sends forth its arrow. Fierce the fight and short,
As is the whirlwind. Soon the conquerors
And conquered vanish, and the dead remain
Mangled by tomahawks. The mighty woods
Are still again, the frighted bird comes back
And plumes her wings; but thy sweet waters run
Crimson with blood. Then, as the sun goes down,
Amid the deepening twilight I descry
Figures of men that crouch and creep unheard,
And bear away the dead. The next day's shower
Shall wash the tokens of the fight away.

  I look again--a hunter's lodge is built,
With poles and boughs, beside thy crystal well,
While the meek autumn stains the woods with gold,
And sheds his golden sunshine. To the door
The red man slowly drags the enormous bear
Slain in the chestnut thicket, or flings down
The deer from his strong shoulders. Shaggy fells
Of wolf and cougar hang upon the walls,
And loud the black-eyed Indian maidens laugh,
That gather, from the rustling heaps of leaves,
The hickory's white nuts, and the dark fruit
That falls from the gray butternut's long boughs.

  So centuries passed by, and still the woods
Blossomed in spring, and reddened when the year
Grew chill, and glistened in the frozen rains
Of winter, till the white man swung the axe
Beside thee--signal of a mighty change.
Then all around was heard the crash of trees,
Trembling awhile and rushing to the ground,
The low of ox, and shouts of men who fired
The brushwood, or who tore the earth with ploughs.
The grain sprang thick and tall, and hid in green
The blackened hill-side; ranks of spiky maize
Rose like a host embattled; the buckwheat
Whitened broad acres, sweetening with its flowers
The August wind. White cottages were seen
With rose-trees at the windows; barns from which
Came loud and shrill the crowing of the ****;
Pastures where rolled and neighed the lordly horse,
And white flocks browsed and bleated. A rich turf
Of grasses brought from far o'ercrept thy bank,
Spotted with the white clover. Blue-eyed girls
Brought pails, and dipped them in thy crystal pool;
And children, ruddy-cheeked and flaxen-haired,
Gathered the glistening cowslip from thy edge.

  Since then, what steps have trod thy border! Here
On thy green bank, the woodmann of the swamp
Has laid his axe, the reaper of the hill
His sickle, as they stooped to taste thy stream.
The sportsman, tired with wandering in the still
September noon, has bathed his heated brow
In thy cool current. Shouting boys, let loose
For a wild holiday, have quaintly shaped
Into a cup the folded linden leaf,
And dipped thy sliding crystal. From the wars
Returning, the plumed soldier by thy side
Has sat, and mused how pleasant 'twere to dwell
In such a spot, and be as free as thou,
And move for no man's bidding more. At eve,
When thou wert crimson with the crimson sky,
Lovers have gazed upon thee, and have thought
Their mingled lives should flow as peacefully
And brightly as thy waters. Here the sage,
Gazing into thy self-replenished depth,
Has seen eternal order circumscribe
And bind the motions of eternal change,
And from the gushing of thy simple fount
Has reasoned to the mighty universe.

  Is there no other change for thee, that lurks
Among the future ages? Will not man
Seek out strange arts to wither and deform
The pleasant landscape which thou makest green?
Or shall the veins that feed thy constant stream
Be choked in middle earth, and flow no more
For ever, that the water-plants along
Thy channel perish, and the bird in vain
Alight to drink? Haply shall these green hills
Sink, with the lapse of years, into the gulf
Of ocean waters, and thy source be lost
Amidst the bitter brine? Or shall they rise,
Upheaved in broken cliffs and airy peaks,
Haunts of the eagle and the snake, and thou
Gush midway from the bare and barren steep?
Anon C Nov 2012
Oh Helena, how I doth know thy pain
Mocked is thine love when at love's feet thrown
Love hath looked upon thee with disdain
And yet still for him thy love hath grown

Do not despair Cupid's arrow at thine door does knock!
Upon thee, loves eyes an awakening will be placed
No longer can  love's spiteful eyes see thee and mock!
And to thine love will he quickly rush in haste

But first know before one is to have thy way
A comedy must first be struck upon
Alas Puck! Disaster hath struck and a game we must all play
Before order is once more restored and the past foregone

Oh no! Now a love thrown upon thee unwanted
Mockery suspected, no more of this dost thou deserve
Evermore another feeling given to thee daunted
But now sit back, let the story unfurl and observe!

Finally soft words to thee spoken so craved
At once entranced but then felt thee a fool!
From nowhere sweet words so spoken must be depraved!
And in thine heart feeling loves sting ever so cruel

Now thy dearest friend! Intertwined within such a conspiracy
Such betrayal! Dear girl know it is a mistake
Albeit twisted and buried in the cruelest irony
Thy dearest friend, thine love she does not wish to shake

Through troubles and trials thou maketh thy way to a beautiful field
Fast asleep next to the love thy value ever so
Puck, fix thy mistake, give Helena her love to finally wield
And at last house a mutual love to forever grow
Tribute to Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream." Or more directly to Helena. Dear girl <3. First time trying to write in Shakespearean form so if anyone sees errors please feel free to point them out.
“Speak! speak! thou fearful guest!
Who, with thy hollow breast
Still in rude armor drest,
    Comest to daunt me!
Wrapt not in Eastern balms,
But with thy fleshless palms
Stretched, as if asking alms,
    Why dost thou haunt me?”

Then, from those cavernous eyes
Pale flashes seemed to rise,
As when the Northern skies
    Gleam in December;
And, like the water’s flow
Under December’s snow,
Came a dull voice of woe
    From the heart’s chamber.

“I was a Viking old!
My deeds, though manifold,
No Skald in song has told,
    No Saga taught thee!
Take heed, that in thy verse
Thou dost the tale rehearse,
Else dread a dead man’s curse;
    For this I sought thee.

“Far in the Northern Land,
By the wild Baltic’s strand,
I, with my childish hand,
    Tamed the gerfalcon;
And, with my skates fast-bound,
Skimmed the half-frozen Sound,
That the poor whimpering hound
    Trembled to walk on.

“Oft to his frozen lair
Tracked I the grisly bear,
While from my path the hare
    Fled like a shadow;
Oft through the forest dark
Followed the were-wolf’s bark,
Until the soaring lark
    Sang from the meadow.

“But when I older grew,
Joining a corsair’s crew,
O’er the dark sea I flew
    With the marauders.
Wild was the life we led;
Many the souls that sped,
Many the hearts that bled,
    By our stern orders.

“Many a wassail-bout
Wore the long Winter out;
Often our midnight shout
    Set the ***** crowing,
As we the Berserk’s tale
Measured in cups of ale,
Draining the oaken pail,
    Filled to o’erflowing.

“Once as I told in glee
Tales of the stormy sea,
Soft eyes did gaze on me,
    Burning yet tender;
And as the white stars shine
On the dark Norway pine,
On that dark heart of mine
    Fell their soft splendor.

“I wooed the blue-eyed maid,
Yielding, yet half afraid,
And in the forest’s shade
    Our vows were plighted.
Under its loosened vest
Fluttered her little breast,
Like birds within their nest
    By the hawk frighted.

“Bright in her father’s hall
Shields gleamed upon the wall,
Loud sang the minstrels all,
    Chanting his glory;
When of old Hildebrand
I asked his daughter’s hand,
Mute did the minstrels stand
    To hear my story.

“While the brown ale he quaffed,
Loud then the champion laughed,
And as the wind-gusts waft
    The sea-foam brightly,
So the loud laugh of scorn,
Out of those lips unshorn,
From the deep drinking-horn
    Blew the foam lightly.

“She was a Prince’s child,
I but a Viking wild,
And though she blushed and smiled,
    I was discarded!
Should not the dove so white
Follow the sea-mew’s flight,
Why did they leave that night
    Her nest unguarded?

“Scarce had I put to sea,
Bearing the maid with me,
Fairest of all was she
    Among the Norsemen!
When on the white sea-strand,
Waving his armed hand,
Saw we old Hildebrand,
    With twenty horsemen.

“Then launched they to the blast,
Bent like a reed each mast,
Yet we were gaining fast,
    When the wind failed us;
And with a sudden flaw
Came round the gusty Skaw,
So that our foe we saw
    Laugh as he hailed us.

“And as to catch the gale
Round veered the flapping sail,
‘Death!’ was the helmsman’s hail,
    ‘Death without quarter!’
Mid-ships with iron keel
Struck we her ribs of steel;
Down her black hulk did reel
    Through the black water!

“As with his wings aslant,
Sails the fierce cormorant,
Seeking some rocky haunt,
    With his prey laden,—
So toward the open main,
Beating to sea again,
Through the wild hurricane,
    Bore I the maiden.

“Three weeks we westward bore,
And when the storm was o’er,
Cloud-like we saw the shore
    Stretching to leeward;
There for my lady’s bower
Built I the lofty tower,
Which, to this very hour,
  Stands looking seaward.

“There lived we many years;
Time dried the maiden’s tears;
She had forgot her fears,
    She was a mother;
Death closed her mild blue eyes,
Under that tower she lies;
Ne’er shall the sun arise
    On such another!

“Still grew my ***** then,
Still as a stagnant fen!
Hateful to me were men,
    The sunlight hateful!
In the vast forest here,
Clad in my warlike gear,
Fell I upon my spear,
    Oh, death was grateful!

“Thus, seamed with many scars,
Bursting these prison bars,
Up to its native stars
    My soul ascended!
There from the flowing bowl
Deep drinks the warrior’s soul,
Skoal! to the Northland! skoal!”
    Thus the tale ended.

— The End —