"layes" poems
Now you have freely given me leave to love,
What will you doe?
Shall I your mirth, or passion move,
When I begin to wooe;
Will you torment, or scorn, or love me too?
Each petty beauty can disdain, and I,
Spight of your hate,
Without your leave can see, and dye,
Dispence a nobler Fate,
Tis easie to destroy, you may create.
Then give me leave to love, and love me too
Not with designe
To rayse, as Loves curst Rebels doe,
When puling Poets whine,
Fame to their beauty, from their blubbr’d eyn.
Grief is a puddle, and reflects not clear
Your beauties rayes;
Joyes are pure streames, your eyes appear
Sullen in sadder layes,
In cheerfull numbers they shine bright with prayse.
Which shall not mention, to express you fayr,
Wounds, flames, and darts,
Storms in your brow, nets in your hair,
Suborning all your parts,
Or to betray, or torture captive hearts.
I’le make your eyes like morning Suns appear,
As mild, and fair;
Your brow as Crystal smooth, and clear,
And your dishevell’d hayr
Shall flow like a calm Region of the Ayr.
Rich Nature’s store, (which is the Poet’s Treasure)
I’le spend, to dress
Your beauties, if your mine of Pleasure
In equall thankfulness
You but unlock, so we each other bless.
2.9k
I presse not to the Quire, nor dare I greet
The holy Place with my unhallow’d feet:
My unwasht Muse pollutes not things Divine,
Nor mingles her prophaner notes with thine;
Here, humbly at the Porch, she listning stayes,
And with glad eares ***** in thy Sacred Layes.
So, devout Penitents of old were wont,
Some without doore, and some beneath the Font,
To stand and heare the Churches Liturgies,
Yet not assist the solemne Exercise.
Sufficeth her, that she a Lay-place gaine,
To trim thy Vestments, or but beare thy traine:
Though nor in Tune, nor Wing, She reach thy Larke,
Her Lyricke feet may dance before the Arke.
Who knowes, but that Her wandring eyes, that run
Now hunting Glow-wormes, may adore the Sun.
A pure Flame may, shot by Almighty Power
Into my brest, the earthy flame devoure:
My Eyes, in Penitentiall dew may steepe
That bryne, which they for sensuall love did weepe:
So (though ‘gainst Natures course) fire may be quencht
With fire, and water be with water drencht.
Perhaps, my restlesse Soule, tyr’d with pursuit
Of mortall beautie, seeking without fruit
Contentment there; which hath not, when enjoy’d,
Quencht all her thirst, nor satisfi’d, though cloy’d;
Weary of her vaine search below, above
In the first Faire may find th’ immortall Love.
Prompted by thy Example then, no more
In moulds of Clay will I my God adore;
But teare those Idols from my Heart, and Write
What his blest Sp’rit, not fond Love, shall endite.
Then, I no more shall court the Verdant Bay,
But the dry leavelesse Trunk on Golgotha:
And rather strive to gaine from thence one Thorne,
Then all the flourishing Wreathes by Laureats worne.
2.3k
Señora, Amor es violento,
y cuando nos transfigura
nos enciende el pensamiento
la locura.No pidas paz a mis brazos
que a los tuyos tienen presos:
son de guerra mis abrazos
y son de incendio mis besos;
y sería vano intento
el tornar mi mente obscura
si me enciende el pensamiento
la locura.Clara está la mente mía
de llamas de amor, señora,
como la tienda del día
o el palacio de la aurora.
Y el perfume de tu ungüento
te persigue mi ventura,
y me enciende el pensamiento
la locura.Mi gozo tu paladar
rico panal conceptúa,
como en el santo Cantar:
Mel et lac sub lingua tua.
La delicia de tu aliento
en tan fino vaso apura,
y me enciende el pensamiento
la locura.
704
A Farmer placed a cross of wood for his beloved friend ,
In a field of snow to mark the grave for where he lay ,
a sodden block of wood .
A Crow perched for a little while on that Cross he layed ,
his only friend layed to rest in a cold dark thank less grave .
His feet frozen in the snow ,
no one for him to talk to ,
Just a field of empty snow. .
A cross of wood before him ,
one Cross sunk in this bitter field ,
and a few penny's to his name
Now to tell a tale of woe and self belief ,
this genr who now layes beneath a slab was hungry for some meat .
To feed his daughter and his wife to London Docks did go ,
and when those gate were open wide a thousand men burst forth ,
only to lose his footing and so ,
down he went, with no air for man to breath , into the ground did go..
Gave up his life to sacrifice for his wife and for his daughter .
The Farmer picked up his sack that he had carried with him , full of
Food , poltary bread and cheese , and left it for outside the
doors of every slum that night .
To lay down our lives so our friends may live would be the least a man could do .
To give ones life at Christmas time so this bread could satisfy your soul .
Hush Mummy and Daddy creep up the stairs ,
Hush don't awake the kids ,
With silver bows next to their children's toes ,
Back from midnight mass ,
On this sacred holy night ,
dressed in red ,
With a hood over their head ,
awaited for dawn on this blessed morn ,
With jingle bells ,
and cuddles .
And a feast fit for a King .
The crow with sacred book now turned to a holy man of times long past ,
the book of Zechariah .
Come to me Jeruslem ,
Gods people on earth unite ,
One Holy mountain will split on Christs return ,
East and to the West .
Like a theif in the night .
No shrine ,
No catacomb,
No rotting corpse ,
To bow low ,
But a Risen Christ. ,
On Holy mountain ,
One King over all the earth .
The crow left the Church which door had been left ajar ,
For later that night the Farmer would. Gaze on a cross in a Church where carols sang ,
Sang from hungry souls that Christmas night was the heart of every man ,
In thankful praise their God filled days that Christ did come to save this earth
From this sinful soul on man
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC
The bed is unmaid
The floor has glass all over the place
Makeup running down her face
Mirror turned the other way
The bed that we once made love on is all torn up all mess up covered in tears...
The floor that was once where we layes on is now no man zone because if you dare to enter you might feel pain...
Erasing old pics of him make the tears fall faster
It would have been easer to beat her to death then to slowly **** her with the silence with the solitary with the memories you guys once had...
It would have been easier to put a knife behind her back then to slowly puncture her with a knife
Then to be beaten with a stick or anything on had
That would have been easier the saying good my love
I loved you now it’s time to let go
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 10:52 PM UTC
i never pillow talk
cause you never know
who is listening behind the doors
i keep my secrets to my chest
cause they are worthy
i don't want another wealthy man
to trade them
selling people dreams
that you will never live
Them
Am me
not them
different cause i hate
my self
i dream dying
i wonder when
when
i will leave this
hell hole
am stuck
nightmares are dark
no light spark
i should have knew
that without money
life *****
No love
only hate and greed
i can't even trust my own seed
my generation smoke alot of ****
and proceed violence
my streets
these dayz lack silence
gunshots
another one down
mothers tears
fell down
his son layes
silent in the streets
kids gang bang
we all want to be rich
Light skin controls money
government promises
lies
Nightmares visit
every time
i close my eyes
her grave i didn't knew
Am 19
still a teen
i need a shoulder to lean
but non of the shoulders i trust
i live to make to make you proud
i listen to his word
but voices in my head are loud
dark cloud on my head
depression
on its mission...
nightmares my visions...
Jul 15, 2020
Jul 15, 2020 at 3:30 AM UTC