Poetries on love and others

[Takoush]

This Cyber Love

 

 

Is this real or in my dreams

My worlds unraveling at the seams

You have my heart now take my soul

This cyber love is what makes me whole

 

I can't believe what's happening to me

Your face so perfect that I've never seen

Your lips so soft I may never touch

I only feel the keyboard I clutch

 

I need you now I need you forever

In an electric world to be together

A surreal place that plays with the mind

In a cloned world of two of a kind

 

I consume your words they filter inside

No matter what I do I can't seem to hide

My trembling hands awaiting the rush

When I feel you near to resume this crush

 

Your my everything my unyielding desire

The spark so the match before it lights fire

The angel within that whispers my name

Controlling the moves in this wicked game

 

This cyber love Is why I awake

This cyber love is my only escape

The time has come i feel it in my spine

When I look towrd the melancholy light and see your on-line.

 

 

Eraklis

 

 

[Takoush]

The Armadillo

 

 

This is the time of year

when almost every night

the frail, illegal fire balloons appear.

Climbing the mountain height,

 

rising toward a saint

still honored in these parts,

the paper chambers flush and fill with light

that comes and goes, like hearts.

 

Once up against the sky it's hard

to tell them from the stars --

planets, that is -- the tinted ones:

Venus going down, or mars,

 

or the pale green one. With a wind,

they flare and falter, wobble and toss:

but if it's still they steer between

the kite sticks of the Southern Cross,

 

receding, dwindling, solemnly

and steadily forsaking us,

or, in the downdraft from a peak,

suddenly turning dangerous.

 

Last night another big one fell.

It splattered like an egg of fire

against the cliff behind the house.

The flame ran down. We saw the pair

 

of owls who nest there flying up

and up, their whirling black-and-white

stained bright pink underneath, until

they shrieked up out of sight.

 

The ancient owls' nest must have burned.

hastily, all alone,

a glistening armadillo left the scene,

rose-flecked, head down, tail down,

 

and then a baby rabbit jumped out,

short-eared, to our surprise,

So soft!--a handful of intangible ash

with fixed, ignited eyes.

 

Too pretty, dreamlike mimicy!

O falling fire and piercing cry

and panic, and a weak mailed fist

clenced ignorant against the sky!

 

Elezabeth Bishop

[Takoush]

I loved you first...

 

 

I loved you first: but afterwards your love,

Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song

As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove.

Which owes the other most? My love was long,

And yours one moment seemed to wax more strong;

I loved and guessed at you, you contrued me

And loved me for what might or might not be-

Nay, weights and measures do us both a wrong.

For verily love knows not 'mine' or 'thine';

With separate T and 'thou' free love has done,

For one is both and both are one in love:

Rich love knows nought of 'thine that is not mine';

Both have the strength and both the length thereof,

Both of us, of the love which makes us one.

 

 

Christina Rossetti

 

 

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I Love You

 

When April bends above me

And find me fast asleep,

Dust need not keep the secret

A live heart died to keep.

 

When April tells the thrushes,

The meadow-larks will know,

And pipe the three words lightly

To all the winds that blow.

 

Above his roof the swallows,

In notes like far-blown rain,

Will tell the little sparrow

Beside his window-pane.

 

O sparow, little sparrow,

When I am fast asleep,

Then tell my love the secret

That I have died to keep.

 

 

Sara Teasdale

 

 

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It's all I have to bring today

 

It's all I have to bring today -

This, and my heart beside -

This, and my heart, and all the fields -

And all the meadows wide -

Be sure you count - should I forget

Some one the sum could tell -

This, and my heart, and all the Bees

Which in the Clover dwell.

 

 

Emily Dickinson

 

 

 

Edited April 13, 2008 by Takoush

[Takoush]

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of being and ideal grace.

I love thee to the level of every day's

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

 

 

Elizabeth B. Browning

 

 

[Aratta-Kingdom]

love is in the air... mer Takoush@ tund siraharvats a

 

 

[Takoush]

Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond

 

somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond

any experience, your eyes have their silence:

in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,

or which I cannot touch because they are too near

 

your slightest look will easily unclose me

though I have closed myself as fingers,

you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens

(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

 

or if your wish be to close me, I and

my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,

as when the heart of this flower imagines

the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals

the power of your intense fragility: whose texture

compels me with the color of its countries,

rendering death and forever with each breathing

 

(I do not know what it is about you that closes

and opens; only something in me understands

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

 

 

E. E. Cummings

[Takoush]

Beautiful Dreamer

 

Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,

Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;

Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,

Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd away!

 

Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,

List while I woo thee with soft melody;

Gone are the cares of life's busy throng.

 

Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

 

Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea,

Mermaids are chaunting the wild lorelie;

Over the streamlet vapors are borne,

Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn.

 

Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,

E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea;

Then will all clouds of sorrow depart,

 

Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

 

 

Stephen Foster

 

 

[Takoush]

Friends

 

 

Now must I these three praise

Three women that have wrought

What joy is in my days:

One because no thought,

Nor those unpassing cares,

No, not in these fifteen

Many-times-troubled years,

Could ever come between

Mind and delighted mind;

And one because her hand

Had strength that could unbind

What none can have and thrive,

Youth's dreamy load, till she

So changed me that I live

Labouring in ecstasy.

And what of her that took

All till my youth was gone

With scarce a pitying look?

How could I praise that one?

When day begins to break

I count my good and bad,

Being wakeful for her sake,

Remembering what she had,

What eagle look still shows,

While up from my heart's root

So great a sweetness flows

I shake from head to foot.

 

 

William Butler Yeats

 

 

 

Edited April 16, 2008 by Takoush

[Takoush]

Bright Star, Would I were Steadfast as Thou Art

 

 

Bright Star, Would I Were Steadfast as Thou Art

Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,

And watching, with eternal lids apart,

Like nature's patient sleepless eremite,

The moving waters at their priestlike task

Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,

Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask

Of snow upon the mountains and the moors;

No yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,

Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,

To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,

Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,

And so live ever or else swoon to death.

 

 

John Keats

[Takoush]

Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms

 

 

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,

Which I gaze on so fondly today,

Were to change by tomorrow, and fleet in my arms,

Like fairy-gifts fading away,

Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,

Let thy loveliness fade as it will,

And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart

Would entwine itself verdantly still.

 

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,

And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear

That the fervor and faith of a soul can be known,

To which time will but make thee more dear;

No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,

But as truly loves on to the close,

As the sunflower turns on her god, when he sets,

The same look which she turned when he rose.

 

 

 

Thomas Moore

[Takoush]

A Dream within a Dream

 

 

Take this kiss upon thy brow!

And, in parting from you now,

Thus much let me avow -

You are not wrong to deem

That my days have been a dream;

Yet if hope has flown away

In a night, or in a day,

In a vision, or in none,

Is it therefore the less gone?

All that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream.

 

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand -

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep - while I weep!

O God! can I not grasp?

O God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?

 

 

 

Edgar Allan Poe