By: taha_wairua07
25/07/2009
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A Day-Dream
By Samuel Taylor Coleridge
My eyes make pictures, when they are shut:
I see a fountain, large and fair,
A willow and a ruined hut,
And thee, and me and Mary there.
O Mary! make thy gentle lap our pillow!
Bend o'er us, like a bower, my beautiful green willow!
A wild-rose roofs the ruined shed,
And that and summer well agree:
And lo! where Mary leans her head,
Two dear names carved upon the tree!
And Mary's tears, they are not tears of sorrow:
Our sister and our friend will both be here to-morrow.
'Twas day! but now few, large, and bright,
The stars are round the crescent moon!
And now it is a dark warm night,
The balmiest of the month of June!
A glow-worm fall'n, and on the marge remounting
Shines, and its shadow shines, fit stars for our sweet fountain.
O ever -- ever be thou blest!
For dearly, Asra! love I thee!
This brooding warmth across my breast,
This depth of tranquil bliss -- ah, me!
Fount, tree and shed are gone, I know not whither,
But in one quiet room we three are still together.
The shadows dance upon the wall,
By the still dancing fire-flames made;
And now they slumber moveless all!
And now they melt to one deep shade!
But not from me shall this mild darkness steal thee:
I dream thee with mine eyes, and at my heart I feel thee! |
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By: taha_wairua07
25/07/2009
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This is the place. Stand still, my steed,
Let me review the scene,
And summon from the shadowy Past
The forms that once have been.
The Past and Present here unite
Beneath Time's flowing tide,
Like footprints hidden by a brook,
But seen on either side.
Here runs the highway to the town;
There the green lane descends,
Through which I walked to church with thee,
O gentlest of my friends!
The shadow of the linden-trees
Lay moving on the grass;
Between them and the moving boughs,
A shadow, thou didst pass.
Thy dress was like the lilies,
And thy heart as pure as they:
One of God's holy messengers
Did walk with me that day.
I saw the branches of the trees
Bend down thy touch to meet,
The clover-blossoms in the grass
Rise up to kiss thy feet.
“Sleep, sleep to-day, tormenting cares,
Of earth and folly born!”
Solemnly sang the village choir
On that sweet Sabbath morn.
Through the closed blinds the golden sun
Poured in a dusty beam,
Like the celestial ladder seen
By Jacob in his dream.
And ever and anon the wind,
Sweet-scented with the hay,
Turned o'er the hymn-book's fluttering leaves
That on the window lay.
Long was the good man's sermon,
Yet it seemed not so to me;
For he spake of Ruth the beautiful,
And still I thought of thee.
Long was the prayer he uttered,
Yet it seemed not so to me;
For in my heart I prayed with him,
And still I thought of thee.
But now, alas! the place seems changed;
Thou art no longer here:
Part of the sunshine of the scene
With thee did disappear.
Though thoughts, deep-rooted in my heart,
Like pine-trees, dark and high,
Subdue the light of noon, and breathe
A low and ceaseless sigh;
This memory brightens o'er the past,
As when the sun, concealed
Behind some cloud that near us hangs,
Shines on a distant field. |
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By: taha_wairua07
25/07/2009
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This is the place. Stand still, my steed,
Let me review the scene,
And summon from the shadowy Past
The forms that once have been.
The Past and Present here unite
Beneath Time's flowing tide,
Like footprints hidden by a brook,
But seen on either side.
Here runs the highway to the town;
There the green lane descends,
Through which I walked to church with thee,
O gentlest of my friends!
The shadow of the linden-trees
Lay moving on the grass;
Between them and the moving boughs,
A shadow, thou didst pass.
Thy dress was like the lilies,
And thy heart as pure as they:
One of God's holy messengers
Did walk with me that day.
I saw the branches of the trees
Bend down thy touch to meet,
The clover-blossoms in the grass
Rise up to kiss thy feet.
“Sleep, sleep to-day, tormenting cares,
Of earth and folly born!”
Solemnly sang the village choir
On that sweet Sabbath morn.
Through the closed blinds the golden sun
Poured in a dusty beam,
Like the celestial ladder seen
By Jacob in his dream.
And ever and anon the wind,
Sweet-scented with the hay,
Turned o'er the hymn-book's fluttering leaves
That on the window lay.
Long was the good man's sermon,
Yet it seemed not so to me;
For he spake of Ruth the beautiful,
And still I thought of thee.
Long was the prayer he uttered,
Yet it seemed not so to me;
For in my heart I prayed with him,
And still I thought of thee.
But now, alas! the place seems changed;
Thou art no longer here:
Part of the sunshine of the scene
With thee did disappear.
Though thoughts, deep-rooted in my heart,
Like pine-trees, dark and high,
Subdue the light of noon, and breathe
A low and ceaseless sigh;
This memory brightens o'er the past,
As when the sun, concealed
Behind some cloud that near us hangs,
Shines on a distant field. |
|
By: taha_wairua07
25/07/2009
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A Maiden's Secret
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox
I have written this day down in my heart
As the sweetest day in the season;
From all of the others I've set it apart --
But I will not tell you the reason.
That is my secret - I must not tell;
But the skies are soft and tender,
And never before, I know full well,
Was the earth so full of splendour.
I sing at my labour the whole day long,
And my heart is as light as a feather;
And there is a reason for my glad song
Besides the beautiful weather.
But I will not tell it to you; and though
That thrush in the maple heard it,
And would shout it aloud if he could, I know
He hasn't the power to word it.
Up, where I was sewing, this morn came one
Who told me the sweetest stories,
He said I had stolen my hair from the sun,
And my eyes from the morning glories.
Grandmother says that I must not believe
A word men say, for they flatter;
But I'm sure he would never try to deceive
For he told me - but there - no matter!
Last night I was sad, and the world to me
Seemed a lonely and dreary dwelling,
But some one then had not asked me to be --
There now! I am almost telling.
Not another word shall my two lips say,
I will shut them fast together,
And never a mortal shall know to-day
Why my heart is as light as a feather. |
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By: goldendancer@rocketmail.com
25/07/2009
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I have seen this mirror once before
Reflecting thoughts from my inner door
From far within the cavern deep
And down the stairwell twisting steep...
On the wall, many written platitudes
Concerning my various attitudes
But all were written by my own hand
As worthless as if drawn in sand...
I remember in better sunshine days
As the mirror reflected sunshine rays
There were a few special friends
We all aspired to better ends...
Slowly the years dimmed our reflections
As we scattered in all directions
But I have seen this mirror once before
When I courted death at death's door...
So, mirror mirror inside my head
What is it most that I should dread
Having done all things I dared to do
Shall I yet fear this mirror too?... |
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By: taha_wairua07
25/07/2009
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Ron Flatow (C)
We are the world which we create,
our thoughts are many,
our ideas and actions are brought forward from our intent.
Our concepts for material progress only help in separating us from ourselves further.
We are the masters of our own illusions
and we are the victims to our own devices.
Creating our desires yet fooled by our own ego to perceive its realism.
We are more than what we appear to be,
but our concepts, perceptions and beliefs play host to our own deceptions
as we choose to knowingly and unknowingly fool others in turn we fool ourselves
and yet we are none the wiser, for we are the illusion of our reality. |
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By: taha_wairua07
25/07/2009
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how sad i feel
when i forget
and fall asleep...
needing prods of pain
to awaken
and remember.
yet comes a moment
of torpedo flight
into freedom
of awareness
new pages appearing
as understanding grows.
a dissolution of rules
regulations and
rigidity
expanding into radiant
oneness.
now listen.
the only sound is
silent. |
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By: lotoyespls
25/07/2009
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Fire and Ice a poem by Robert Frost
FIRE AND ICE
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favour fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice. |
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By: taha_wairua07
25/07/2009
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who is the one
who thinks she is
in control?
who has any say
about anything
at all...
a little gnat
making big noise
saying i'm here
pay attention.
what humor
the Creator has,
what a joke
sublime!
we flap and stomp
cry and whine
and dance and sing
and it is all
a dream.
as Kabir says,
"You've been asleep
for millions of years.
why not wake up
this morning?" |
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By: lotoyespls
25/07/2009
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wandered lonely as a cloud
a poem by William Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils. |
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By: taha_wairua07
25/07/2009
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ah, Baba
what a two edged sword
your gift of your Presence,
finding you and
feeling you
in Everything:
each sparkling leaf
each word spoken
each step taken
every smile
every thought
every squirrel chatting
every osprey flying
every cup of tea supped --
every is-ness
a reflection
of your divinity;
any and every moment
you were there,
permeating
every thing
and not thing
and it filled
my every pore
transporting me
to a State
of finite duration
as after weeks
it began fading
slowly taking leave
as sadly i watched
a ghost image
merging into vastness
my solid self weeping
for a loss
of nothing
that was Everything
and now i am here
no doubt changed
forever,
but missing
that immersion in
Everything is You
and
Only You Exist
ah this mind,
these sanskaras
loosened and unwound,
are still running
in dream circles
i call me. |
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By: lotoyespls
25/07/2009
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Apeneck Sweeney spreads his knees
Letting his arms hang down to laugh,
The zebra stripes along his jaw
Swelling to maculate giraffe.
The circles of the stormy moon
Slide westward toward the River Plate,
Death and the Raven drift above
And Sweeney guards the hornéd gate.
Gloomy Orion and the Dog
Are veiled; and hushed the shrunken seas;
The person in the Spanish cape
Tries to sit on Sweeney's knees
Slips and pulls the tablecloth
Overturns a coffee cup,
Reorganized upon the floor
She yawns and draws a stocking up;
The silent man in mocha brown
Sprawls at the window sill and gapes;
The waiter brings in oranges
Bananas figs and hothouse grapes;
The silent vertebrate in brown
Contracts and concentrates, withdraws;
Rachel née Rabinovitch
Tears at the grapes with murderous paws;
She and the lady in the cape
Are suspect, thought to be in league;
Therefore the man with heavy eyes
Declines the gambit, shows fatigue,
Leaves the room and reappears
Outside the window, leaning in,
Branches of wistaria
Circumscribe a golden grin;
The host with someone indistinct
Converses at the door apart,
The nightingales are singing near
The Convent of the Sacred Heart,
And sang within the bloody wood
When Agamemnon cried aloud,
And let their liquid siftings fall
To stain the stiff dishonored shroud.
T.S. Eliot |
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By: taha_wairua07
25/07/2009
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i can break off from anyone,
except that presence within:
never divided is the unity
that has always been.
i can break off from anyone,
except that presence within:
it never leaves me,
no matter how often
i run away.
i can break off from anyone,
except that presence within:
rejection and abandonment
flow in and out
like endless tides,
surface changes on eternity.
i can break off from anyone,
except that presence within:
how can i peel away
my own self? |
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By: powley9
25/07/2009
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Le Bicyclette De Belsize
As I drive home from work, with the evening
sun still beating down hot on the windscreen, I
come to an abhorrent obstruction in the
road, a cyclist the worst sight to any driver with
somewhere to go and a finite time
to get there. I was driving down a very
narrow lane following a cyclist that I
knew I couldn’t pass when I noticed the cyclist
for the first time, her brown hair dancing across
her shoulders contrasting starkly with the white of
the cotton blouse which tapered down to her
narrow waist before disappearing into
the waist band of her gray checked skirt.
I pondered briefly on the name of the pattern
was it “Hounds tooth, Prince of Wales” then the cloth
stretched tight against her cheeks as she was stood
up in the saddle as we climbed the hill, her long
tanned legs powering her on and her
buttocks reshaped themselves again
and again, I could only imagine what
was happening in front of her out of my
view, then the material was tight against her
curves once more as her bottom perched
back on the saddle and every bump in the road
brought a new quiver to her plaid clad cheeks
and a delicious new tingling to my loins
then all at once the lane ended and she was gone
down a path went the girl and the bike she sat upon
Copyright © Paul Curtis. All Rights Reserved
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By: taha_wairua07
25/07/2009
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the robot life
grey and moldy
losing self
in dark, imploding
emotions spiralling down
left
of my center.
who is running the show,
anyway?
looking left and right,
trying not to trip
over
my own toes.
keeping my head up
so i can see
some light,
maybe
the sky
when it is blue.
listening to inner
cranial pounding
like a tape
slicking wild
around its track,
not making sense
or even caring.
the days fall into one another,
stumbling, crashing.
and who knows how,
a sudden awakening
and forward
movement
again.
the window opens
to a lifegiving breeze
coursing thru every
cellular
nook and cranny,
crying
"Yes." |
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By: taha_wairua07
25/07/2009
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why do the ego attacks
continue endlessly?
why can i not surrender
no matter how hard and often
i beg and cry
for relief from mind
and tyrrany
of separtive self
which knows no better --
run by the puppeteer's string
pulling yesterday's
impressions.
so much anguish and pain
isolation -- alientation -- darkness
and tears.
suffering in its many costumes
and dialects
always vying
for center stage
in this grand
illusion
which i might not mind,
if at least
it were fun |
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By: wandarap2005
25/07/2009
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| Gee kare! your poems are lovely but they come too fast for me to really appreciate them - maybe I'm just getting old and fussy!. Don't mind me! |
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By: wandarap2005
25/07/2009
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| Well lovely in that they're poetic - most are a bit avant garde for me. Lol! |
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By: wandarap2005
25/07/2009
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| There's a poem of Liddee Lu's I really love , I wonder if it's on here - might go look. |
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By: datagarble
25/07/2009
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| nice one taha,you fast becoming my favourite poster on this thread:-) |
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By: wandarap2005
25/07/2009
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| I agree with you Data - I said don't mind me. Lol! |
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By: wandarap2005
25/07/2009
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| I love all the poetry on here - it's a very exciting and "nice to be in" thread! |
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By: lotoyespls
25/07/2009
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| Arvo Wanda & Data :D |
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By: wandarap2005
25/07/2009
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| Kia Ora Loto, how are you? - not skivin'? |
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By: taha_wairua07
25/07/2009
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Deceit & Deception
Angeline Richards
Lies and Deceit, it's all around me
Lies and Deceptions, two bad surroundings
I see no point, I see no end
Those are your enemies, who you think are friends.
You see and hear it, find it hard to believe
They don't want any good, but only to deceive
You don't know who to trust, everyone's a target
The things they'll do so hard to forget
Deceit and Deception, over and over
The chances of good friends ,like four leaf clovers
They'll think you don't know , or wont find out
But surely you do so without a doubt
The things that's done determines your fate
makes choices for the best, better soon than late
Lies spread like a diseased infection
Life's just full of deceit and deception |
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