"faints" poems
My lavender is burnt and loveless;
Painful, devoured and helpless,
Weak by the side of its dying corpse;
Solitary yet at an age so young.
My lavender cries in its daydreams;
Giggles in sorrowful screams,
And faints and dies beneath fun daylight;
As though tortured and wounded by the sun.
My lavender wriggles in isolation;
Like those ragged clothes in damnation
And there's no more death between heaven and hell--
For none is alive, nor breathes to live.
My lavender longs not to drink nor die;
But it sleeps by the hushed setting moon,
Trapped behind the tail of his lethal winds;
Blinded by too many mysteries, unseen.
My lavender peels its own skinny bones;
Its quaint lust cut and fiercely torn,
Teased by the cold trees of summertime;
Faded by the sweet whispers of time.
My lavender eats its own bloodless veins;
And its hateful friendless world,
Having laughed at anonymous walls
Marveled at unspoken poems.
My lavender drinks of its own soul;
And to love now is but to have none,
With her autumn love stolen by fate;
All her gripping sonnets are far too late.
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 12:02 PM UTC
When once the sun sinks in the west,
And dewdrops pearl the evening’s breast;
Almost as pale as moonbeams are,
Or its companionable star,
The evening primrose opes anew
Its delicate blossoms to the dew;
And, hermit-like, shunning the light,
Wastes its fair bloom upon the night,
Who, blindfold to its fond caresses,
Knows not the beauty it possesses;
Thus it blooms on while night is by;
When day looks out with open eye,
Bashed at the gaze it cannot shun,
It faints and withers and is gone.
6.3k
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What is a poet to do
when his favourite muse
faints whilst making love,
a victim of passions fuse.
To carry on regardless?
Perhaps slap her lovely cheek?
Mouth 2 mouth no tongue?
Or maybe implore her to speak?
A lesser poet
shakes her anxiously
and writes a verse about prowess and spooning.
A True poet
carries on regardless
and writes a sonnet about his muse and swooning.
© Pagan Paul (23/05/18)
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 2:09 PM UTC
the laughing ***** shrieks on
a masculine bellow till dawn
the young girl fades
into the paint
to find a way out, before she faints
the almighty angel
is shot from the sky
she has alined with satin
the unbreakable tie
the blanket sits
crumpled up in a lap
shared with the many
and yet no claps
they all sit staring
at one another
the tension’s high
yet they all are brothers
they pretend to not care
it's what they know
but beneath all that
you feel it show
a tattoo of sarcasm
ripping them open,
from the inside out
so they can't keep quiet
they always shout
no one knows the scars it makes
no one wants to, they'd cry lakes
so the young girl sits
repeated back by the mirrors
she knows a secret,
and yet she fears
that if they knew,
she'd be gone
and still she whispers it
to herself
and tucks it away,
or puts it on the shelf
the single truth in the bag of lies
unnoticeably simple,
the surrounding eyes
it's just the cast away
the rotten apple
she's aflame with the pupils of loathing.
Dec 19, 2011
Dec 19, 2011 at 3:01 AM UTC
There are so many shadows on the planet.
The ones of the living, bodiless, moving along, appreciating the complicated road the humans are taking to enjoy each beat of their heart. But then there are others.
Shadows inside of those who live.
Hiding beneath the flesh lies an empty carcass of what used to be the poem of a life yet to be lived. Hiding beneath lies a ruined soul waiting to be picked up by death. You do not always recognize those who have died inside. They know how to put up a front, but… the inside is rotten and empty and sad and destroyed and I wonder how you can possibly live a life like that.
The real question, though… is how that happens? How do you die inside? Does it happen all at once?
Someone tells you they do not love you anymore, and everything goes through you, your heart, your soul, your happiness, everything vital just crushes down and breaks all over the floor in an invisible flood of despair that swallows your entire being?
Or is it done slowly, almost imperceptibly? You go through the motions, you smile and laugh, but somehow, the laugh empties itself out, as if, suddenly, you only had one reserve that would never replenish. The reserve runs out and the laugh is empty. The smile faints into a neutral expression, and then it's gone, too. The rest follows the same path. After a while, every gesture, every word, every look is empty. But the change is so subtle, almost natural. And no one notices. And you are the last one to leave. Your body is a shadow and you are gone.
"As good as dead".
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 6:13 AM UTC
Enter Lizzy in the foothill forests & Loki up in the mountains
Both say their hymns separately initially.
Loki at the mountains
Loki: I am so happy of my freedom
Lizzy in the forest at the foothills
Lizzy: I can't imagine of a better situation
Loki moving down the mountain
Loki: But I want a true lover to mould me better
Lizzy moving towards the mountain
Lizzy: I now want a true lover to honor my feelings
They meet each other and conversation follows
Loki: How could I come across such a beauty!
Lizzy: Even I think likewise, you are so handsome!
Loki: Come, let's make love right now & right here.
Lizzy: How could you ****** me so easily, is it a magic.
Loki: My name is Loki, I'm the God here and you should fall into my arms listening this.
Loki transforms into his celestial form.
Lizzy faints seeing Loki's transformation as she realizes that it was the dreaded-scheming Norse God.
Loki catches her as she faints and takes her to his cave on the mountain.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 7:00 AM UTC
I am the **** in your pristine garden,
Hidden between the Hollyhocks and Petunias,
Unwanted, I lift my head high,
Invasive, pervasive, you hate me.
You spray me with emotional roundup.
You wish I would simply go away
Crushed under your foot yesterday,
I wilted under your hate.
Resurrected by the creators love,
In joy I dance to his music,
That floats on the wind.
I am a rose of Sharon,
Planted firmly in the dirt.
Hated by you for just being,
The one who made me loves me,
He loves me unconditionally.
Planted in the wilderness,
Where he walks in search
Of those who seek his name.
If you see me know that, he is near.
Yet you hate me for being the ****
Invasive that shows up in the cracks,
Of your frequent well-beaten paths of hatred.
You stomp on me, mangled I lie still.
Revived by my God who loves me.
Someday he will do justice,
Someday he will show them mercy,
Them that failed to love his creation.
He animates me an earthen vessel,
With emotions triggered by fluid actions,
His loving smile, His tender touch,
In his love and goodness, I find joy.
The joy that effuses and rises to my brain,
Like a flooding sea of contentment,
Knowing that in him I have rest, I am secure and calm.
From your bitterness, that floods my feet,
He produces exquisite flowers and sweetest fruits.
Freely I give the love I receive,
As fragrance it wafts on the breeze,
Used to the smell of death and dying,
The Tanner smelling the fragrance of Love and Life faints.
They revive him with curing leather from the tannery.
Someday the tanner will appreciate fragrance,
Someday the night shift miner appreciate the light,
Someday those that cry for war will love peace,
Someday those that hate others learn to love.
Someday those that clang pots and pans in raucous cacophony,
Will find peace and quiet in his sweet rhapsodies and quiet melodies.
And the promoters of the ugliest of ugliness,
Love the beauty of God's creation.
Some day will this enslaved and captive soul fly free?
Forever free in the plains of Eternity.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 2:37 PM UTC
I
A THIN moon faints in the sky o'erhead,
And dumb in the churchyard lie the dead.
Walk we not, Sweet, by garden ways,
Where the late rose hangs and the phlox delays,
But forth of the gate and down the road,
Past the church and the yews, to their dim abode.
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.
II
Fear not that sound like wind in the trees:
It is only their call that comes on the breeze;
Fear not the shudder that seems to pass:
It is only the tread of their feet on the grass;
Fear not the drip of the bough as you stoop:
It is only the touch of their hands that ***** -
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the dead can yearn and the dead can smite.
III
And where should a man bring his sweet to woo
But here, where such hundreds were lovers too?
Where lie the dead lips that thirst to kiss,
The empty hands that their fellows miss,
Where the maid and her lover, from sere to green,
Sleep bed by bed, with the worm between?
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.
IV
And now that they rise and walk in the cold,
Let us warm their blood and give youth to the old.
Let them see us and hear us, and say: 'Ah, thus
In the prime of the year it went with us!'
Till their lips drawn close, and so long unkist,
Forget they are mist that mingles with mist!
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the dead can burn and the dead can smite.
V
Till they say, as they hear us - poor dead, poor dead! -
'Just an hour of this, and our age-long bed -
Just a thrill of the old remembered pains
To kindle a flame in our frozen veins,
Just a touch, and a sight, and a floating apart,
As the chill of dawn strikes each phantom heart -
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear, and the dead have sight.'
VI
And where should the living feel alive
But here in this wan white humming hive,
As the moon wastes down, and the dawn turns cold,
And one by one they creep back to the fold?
And where should a man hold his mate and say:
'One more, one more, ere we go their way'?
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the living can learn by the churchyard light.
VII
And how should we break faith who have seen
Those dead lips plight with the mist between,
And how forget, who have seen how soon
They lie thus chambered and cold to the moon?
How scorn, how hate, how strive, we too,
Who must do so soon as those others do?
For it's All Souls' night, and break of the day,
And behold, with the light the dead are away. . . .
3k
I am pale with sick desire,
For my heart is far away
From this world's fitful fire
And this world's waning day;
In a dream it overleaps
A world of tedious ills
To where the sunshine sleeps
On the everlasting hills.--
Say the Saints: There Angels ease us
Glorified and white.
They say: We rest in Jesus,
Where is not day or night.
My soul saith: I have sought
For a home that is not gained,
I have spent yet nothing bought,
Have laboured but not attained;
My pride strove to mount and grow,
And hath but dwindled down;
My love sought love, and lo!
Hath not attained its crown.--
Say the Saints: Fresh souls increase us,
None languish or recede.
They say: We love our Jesus,
And He loves us indeed.
I cannot rise above,
I cannot rest beneath,
I cannot find out love,
Or escape from death;
Dear hopes and joys gone by
Still mock me with a name;
My best beloved die,
And I cannot die with them.--
Say the Saints: No deaths decrease us,
Where our rest is glorious.
They say: We live in Jesus,
Who once died for us.
O my soul, she beats her wings
And pants to fly away
Up to immortal things
In the heavenly day:
Yet she flags and almost faints;
Can such be meant for me?--
Come and see, say the Saints.
Saith Jesus: Come and see.
Say the Saints: His pleasures please us
Before God and the Lamb.
Come and taste My sweets, saith Jesus:
Be with Me where I am.
3k
"Thou whom I love, for whom I died,
Lovest thou Me, My bride?"--
Low on my knees I love Thee, Lord,
Believed in and adored.
"That I love thee the proof is plain:
How dost thou love again?"--
In prayer, in toil, in earthly loss,
In a long-carried cross.
"Yea, thou dost love: yet one adept
Brings more for Me to accept."--
I mould my will to match with Thine,
My wishes I resign.
"Thou givest much: then give the whole
For solace of My soul."--
More would I give, if I could get:
But, Lord, what lack I yet?
"In Me thou lovest Me: I call
Thee to love Me in all."--
Brim full my heart, dear Lord, that so
My love may overflow.
"Love Me in sinners and in saints,
In each who needs or faints."--
Lord, I will love Thee as I can
In every brother man.
"All sore, all crippled, all who ache,
Tend all for My dear sake."--
All for Thy sake, Lord: I will see
In every sufferer, Thee.
"So I at last, upon My Throne
Of glory, Judge alone,
So I at last will say to thee:
Thou diddest it to Me."
2.5k
The world blurs,
As the storm clouds my vision.
I struggle to stand straight,
I cant stand at all...
My breathing is shallowed,
My head is seeing double..
What is this?
Why am I weak?
Stand... Straight..
I cant see...
This world is spinning,
All around me..
(faints)
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
Staring at the world
Sitting by the window
watching it pass her by
Sitting by the window
All alone
Her eyes dried red
Forever Incomplete
Regrets left unsaid
She has no retreat
Willingly Given
Forcibly Taken
Pulled Back
to yesterday
Clothes neatly repressed
Easily suppressed
She puts on a new smile
Disguising inflicted vile
Perfect Darling Princess
Daddy's little girl
Alone in her world of shadows
Voices calling out to her in the swirl
Nail Paints
and a Bloodstain Manicure
Cold Faints
feeling so impure
Some wounds
aren't meant to heal
and some scars
are better left unseen
"please!"
There she lays now..
... Forgotten
Darling Abigail
Beauty so broken
Like the promises i made
Holding you against the wall..
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 8:32 PM UTC
Inside your eyes lies a little princess
She often cries, she often winces
She seeks her wonders, she cheers for beauty
She faints when she sees human cruelty
She falls in love, she bursts with laughter
She changes her mind about what she's after
She has high hopes, she's got big dreams
When you do good, she proudly beams
She longs for stars, she longs for stories
She hates it when she sees your worries
She's your helper, she's your friend
She will be with you till the end
So go and look, show her the world
The greatest stories ever told
Do kind things and keep her grinning
When she's happy, it's you who's winning
Apr 1, 2021
Apr 1, 2021 at 2:53 PM UTC
This blue borne cold blood
you've erased in me.
you have changed my inner views,
this black breeze,
And inside my lucid dreams.
this dense excitement;
your spirit have brought me
just like heaven sent.
This energy you have gave us
does not line in queue,
bravely timid.
in control and blue.
Now you're laying your guard low,
and I am thankful,
we had our moments,
our time and tools.
Our ways we cannot compromise,
that set the tone and standards;
our shield and sword,
boasts our missions in placards
without an intention
to hide behind the shadows.
we walk hand in hand
working like bows and arrows.
We tire ourselves,
We shoot the city lights;
calm and serene
this outstanding night.
as we share our stories,
etched within our veins;
I hope you can join me,
until this surreal world faints.
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 9:11 PM UTC
Who was it I? who took this trip?
My heart it don’t mind but you become my crush
You earned it by conversation and melting my eyes
There was a boy broken down like a tree shattered branches and stolen leaves
He spoke big words and I run around in snow
My aches and faints I black out more
Who? Pointing at you?
Zion and Israel we’ll take a trip or two
The lights keeps settling before the rain comes our way
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 9:29 AM UTC
As your hand travels frivolously
To rest on my leg
My quiet heart races
Then faints
Awakened, I'm dizzy
And I look around
I'm not where I was
This is different ground
In this dreamworld
I wander
You take my hand
And lead me onward
There are teacups of chocolate
And rainbows of cream
Pathways of gum drops
In this delicious dream
I weep happy tears
As you lay here with me
On this sunken silk
Made of soft candy
Like sunken ships
Our feelings plummet
Into the sweet sea
They had just met
They descend into peace
Tranquility and ease
With every breath lost
They gave a tight squeeze
From one hand to the other
Between cold lips
Sweet nothings were murmured
And their tale was told
Waves turned to flame
Covered in fire
The cold left quick
Flames the new squire
The minty swirls
Overlapped and smothered
The orange licks of flame
In the dimming light
Our bodies dissolved
On lustful tongues
Our cries were not heard
From our disappearing lungs
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 5:19 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, dreams and dreams will be remembered:)
a nightmare or a dream???
the day you wrote a poem to me
titles stumbled on the versus our desires declared
gone in the drop of a lit matched flare
guess that love will remember us
stared promises tangled even the unspoken trust
i think of the time of all lasts
hourglass sand stolen so fast
nonsense traffic faints
in the path of the cuts this hurt paints
bruises in surrender to the knife
like when two plus two makes five
Venus on the window pane
whispering to others about the ****** stain
till this day
------ravenfeels
Jun 25, 2021
Jun 25, 2021 at 7:06 PM UTC
I have hung my self to dry on the lines of a greater theory
I am not me anymore
I feel pity for the woman inside of me
I feel pity for my greater infant that slowly faints in the darkness
and I feel pity for my health
I feel pity for the fact that I feel pity for my very self
I have lost control of mental wealth
completely embedded in the filthy secrets and the stealth
A simple careless whisper will do me well
the years I have disguised them time and time again
but quite honestly its been nothing but hell
time and time again I fell
time and time again put under that ***** spell
time and time again I have let you in after you rang my rusty doorbell
and time and time again I have asked you to leave or dragged you out
and bid you my simple farewell
from you
love
love
I have rebelled
I cant stand the taste of you
or even bare your smell
Im am sealed in this shell
love
love
you have made me unwell
I speak to you, not a person
but the emotion itself
locked with the carved letters of
blood
blood shed by so many men in our history
and a mortal death for the hearts of many
If I can turn you into something I could touch I would suffocate you
and rid of our exsistence, to speak quite bluntly
oh love how you make the skin on my stomach feel the bone in my back
like a starving child caved into emptiness
I feel the impact of your dread on my body physically
and oh how you eat away at me
and dig me so far into this abyss with your anarchy
how you breathe in me awfully and tend me to be angry
oh but how I yearn for your beauty
in the back of my mind I must admit
for the first time I will release the child confession
of my ample and frigid like weakness
I feel my very marrow deteriorating with thoughts of you
love
love here me when I speak to you
you live in happy homes and in the hearts of few
and have become such a taboo
love tell me what can I do to undo
the witches and warlocks in my souls venue
the black voodoo and the monstrous zoo
that infested my purity and scorned my very tissue
time and time again I have thought this through
but where can I go to repair the damage when love is the answer
when the answer is
you
Nov 16, 2010
Nov 16, 2010 at 3:21 PM UTC
673
The Love a Life can show Below
Is but a filament, I know,
Of that diviner thing
That faints upon the face of Noon—
And smites the Tinder in the Sun—
And hinders Gabriel’s Wing—
’Tis this—in Music—hints and sways—
And far abroad on Summer days—
Distils uncertain pain—
’Tis this enamors in the East—
And tints the Transit in the West
With harrowing Iodine—
’Tis this—invites—appalls—endows—
Flits—glimmers—proves—dissolves—
Returns—suggests—convicts—enchants—
Then—flings in Paradise—
1.7k
Protectress...manna, Luna, vulvic-veil,
my heinous highness, take this kiss upon
your forehead and crown.
Tinctured lips, paired pilgrims of our alchemy...
surmounted mount in tantric trust, the perfect
fit for this Age.
We watched each other's will hatch in the palms
of our hands...forgetting to argue who came first.
The rightful bliss of essential ignorance, world
manifest under our noses--roused by smelling salts
from intermittent faints...Love, Love, Love!
You, dearest of whomsoever came forth from innumerable
bodies, to be half-turn to my half-turn...round our world
on its head.
Bar to bar none axes...one string guitars from pole to pole--
played ****** by our fingers.
Corollas of red droplets...the poppies are everywhere, the
child you bore me was me--forcing me to man abandonment.
Caught at the lip of a curb ramp, I hurl handfuls of folly
skyward...as pieces of absence continually settle time.
I apply you to my proportion...Vitruvian Man versed in
your space, circle squared dear--circle squared...the poppies
are everywhere.
Broken down to simplest things, I lay you down, I lay me
down...try both sides of the bed where neither is met.
Just as I cease to exist, I-ness nets a sense of being, bolting
upright as if hearing the world fall.
We who observed continuous excellency of soul, stood
juxtaposed in extemporaneous awe.
How could I expel you, how could you expel me...from
such a juxtaposition?
The "invisible worm" brings tidings of forever before it
destroys the flower...the poppies are everywhere.
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 12:38 AM UTC
An artistically woven
turquoise woolen
pullover made
out of the finest
moher fabric
made my day.
Made for you,
to be caressed
and cherished
as a perfect
garment.
It looked so good
on you, my darling!
Rainbow colors always
bring me happiness and
I gently touch you,
feeling already safe
as a deer in a flowering
forest; within narcotically
scented alluring hug, we
embrace again, tightly,
you and me, entwined.
Whiffed winds melody
played through tall pine
tree tops as a flute song
swaying branches. It seemed
as they are affirming our walk
along the shore, where the river
meets an ocean, hand in hand,
peacefully.
And, yet, every time the
strong cool breeze exposes
your magnificent masculine
figure in that woolen top,
my coolness faints into the
void and dissolves itself.
Our urge emerges!
I feel your fingertips touch
as a passionate flame dance
over my face, you turn my
head up toward your loving
gaze, wanting it so much,
slightly pulling me up
then burning my lips.
Our hurried steps are heard,
echoing as a rushed tempo
on the salty path, fresh air
lingers around us, leading
us to our charming summer
suite, to undress. And love.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 8:54 AM UTC
A power is on the earth and in the air,
From which the vital spirit shrinks afraid,
And shelters him, in nooks of deepest shade,
From the hot steam and from the fiery glare.
Look forth upon the earth--her thousand plants
Are smitten; even the dark sun-loving maize
Faints in the field beneath the torrid blaze;
The herd beside the shaded fountain pants;
For life is driven from all the landscape brown;
The bird has sought his tree, the snake his den,
The trout floats dead in the hot stream, and men
Drop by the sun-stroke in the populous town:
As if the Day of Fire had dawned, and sent
Its deadly breath into the firmament.
1.5k
The woman holds a letter
crumpled and crumbling at the tip like insanity taking its first few licks at calm
and liking it
brushing black-inked words beneath her fingers
like she's contemplating some black haired deed
like anger
or hate
or ******
and maybe she is.
The woman lifts her hands unto the skies
crying for help from a darkness that won't help her at all
but she wants it
banishing her innocence and taking up home
in the old, abandoned shack of spite and malice
wanting blood
wanting love
wanting power
but not just for her.
The woman meets her husband
taunting and teasing and twisting his words into a sadistic mockery of what they were
and he believes her
with a slap across morality he agrees with her
takes her outstretched hand to show that
jealousy is married
determination binds
it was his idea first
and weakness is sin.
The woman turns and faints
blanching so white it's like the evil wasn't ever there
it's hiding
waiting, longing to consume her whole
she'd thought she'd washed away the deed
with just
a little
spot of
water.
The woman enters the banquet hall
hanging off her husband's arm like the weight of the crime that holds her down
she's shaking
trying to hurl off all the lonely isolation
as her husband lo and talks to ghosts
and kills
not just
men but
her as well.
The woman walks and talks asleep
scratches skin and tries to scrub away the sticking-plaster guilt
but still it stays
forces of darkness she invited
staying long past their welcome and
not just
eating all
the food
but her as well.
The woman recognises blood
splattering the deceased's names across her arms in swirling crimson lines like marker pen
that won't wash off
maybe she'd be better off dead than praying
wishing she could drown her err
in just
a little
spot of
water.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 6:21 AM UTC
I am the **** in your pristine garden,
Hidden between the Hollyhocks and Petunias,
Unwanted, I lift my head high,
Invasive, pervasive, you hate me.
You spray me with emotional roundup.
You wish I would simply go away
Crushed under your foot yesterday,
I wilted under your hate.
Resurrected by the creators love,
In joy I dance to his music,
That floats on the wind.
I am a rose of Sharon,
Planted firmly in the dirt.
Hated by you for just being,
I am loved by the one who made me,
Loved unconditionally.
Planted in the wilderness,
Where he walks in search
Of those who seek his name.
If you see me know that he is near.
Yet you hate me for being the ****
Invasive, that shows up in the cracks,
Of your well beaten paths.
You stomp on me, mangled I lie still.
Revived by God who loves me.
Someday he will do justice,
Someday he will show them mercy,
For failing to love his creation.
He animates me an earthen vessel,
With emotions triggered by fluid actions,
His loving smile, His tender touch,
In his love and goodness I find joy.
The joy that effuses and rises to my brain,
In its flooding sea of contentment,
Knowing that in him I have rest I am secure and calm.
From your bitterness that floods my feet,
He produces exquisite flowers and sweetest fruits.
Freely I give the love I receive,
As fragrance it wafts on the breeze,
Used to the smell of death and dying,
The Tanner smelling the fragrance of Love and Life faints.
They revive him with curing leather from the tannery.
Someday the tanner will appreciate fragrance,
Someday the night shift miner appreciate the light,
Someday those that cry for war will love peace,
Someday those that hate others learn to love.
Someday those that clang pots and pans in raucous cacophony,
Will find peace and quiet in his sweet rhapsodies and quiet melodies.
And the promoters of the ugliest of ugliness,
Love the beauty of God's creation.
Some day will the enslaved and captive soul fly free,
Forever free in the plains of Eternity.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 2:07 PM UTC
O Love, Love, Love! O withering might!
O sun, that from thy noonday height
Shudderest when I strain my sight,
Throbbing thro' all thy heat and light,
Lo, falling from my constant mind,
Lo, parch'd and wither'd, deaf and blind,
I whirl like leaves in roaring wind.
Last night I wasted hateful hours
Below the city's eastern towers:
I thirsted for the brooks, the showers:
I roll'd among the tender flowers:
I crush'd them on my breast, my mouth;
I look'd athwart the burning drouth
Of that long desert to the south.
Last night, when some one spoke his name,
From my swift blood that went and came
A thousand little shafts of flame
Were shiver'd in my narrow frame.
O Love, O fire! once he drew
With one long kiss my whole soul thro'
My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.
Before he mounts the hill, I know
He cometh quickly: from below
Sweet gales, as from deep gardens, blow
Before him, striking on my brow.
In my dry brain my spirit soon,
Down-deepening from swoon to swoon,
Faints like a daled morning moon.
The wind sounds like a silver wire,
And from beyond the noon a fire
Is pour'd upon the hills, and nigher
The skies stoop down in their desire;
And, isled in sudden seas of light,
My heart, pierced thro' with fierce delight,
Bursts into blossom in his sight.
My whole soul waiting silently,
All naked in a sultry sky,
Droops blinded with his shining eye:
I will possess him or will die.
I will grow round him in his place,
Grow, live, die looking on his face,
Die, dying clasp'd in his embrace.
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