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The room is full of you!-As I came in
And closed the door behind me, all at once
A something in the air, intangible,
Yet stiff with meaning, struck my senses sick!-
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Machineel In A Cassock
The guiltless shepherd
is a collared machineel in a cassock
He bears pretty tasty apples
That accord him innocent and benovelent looks
Minds are deluded but
Not from beginning
Ignorance makes it, however
Essences of mind is crystal pure.
Dreams are beautiful sensation,
Experienced during sleep,
It’s a conceptualization
Still it has a power to rejoice & be depressed.
My new-cut ashlar takes the light
Where crimson-blank the windows flare;
By my own work, before the night,
Great Overseer, I make my prayer.
Now when the primrose makes a splendid show,
And lilies face the March-winds in full blow,
And humbler growths as moved with one desire
Put on, to welcome spring, their best attire,
A Man's Prayer
A man who stayed here for a while,
Starts to seek what his heart desires,
His confused of entities he ought to know,
Whether the world might bring him sorrow.
They brought the mighty chief to town;
They showed him strange, unwonted sights;
Yet as he wandered up and down,
He seemed to scorn their vain delights.
The Sack Of The Gods
Strangers drawn from the ends of the earth, jewelled and plumed were we;
I was Lord of the Inca race, and she was Queen of the Sea.
Under the stars beyond our stars where the new-forged meteors glow,
Hotly we stormed Valhalla, a million years ago!
It is blue-butterfly day here in spring,
And with these sky-flakes down in flurry on flurry
There is more unmixed color on the wing
Than flowers will show for days unless they hurry.
My Queen Of December
She moved my world with her sword,
She used to carve word by word.
She became the only name I heard,
She was the ocean, the stars I adored.
I am the Empire in the last of its decline,
That sees the tall, fair-haired Barbarians pass,-the while
Composing indolent acrostics, in a style
Of gold, with languid sunshine dancing in each line.
Before The Wedding
Like a lightening, your love has struck me
i think of you all the time my love
I have been struck by the lightening of your love
here comes your beloved
Work And Joy
Each day I live I thank the Lord
I do the work I love;
And in it find a rich reward,
All price and praise above.
Love - The Symbolic Soul
Love is a journey, only few dispatch it,
Not all can, the dream in life who loves,
Although millions of promises created.
It's fragile like a narrow glass, easily smart,
The forest ended. Glad I was
To feel the light, and hear the hum
Of bees, and smell the drying grass
And the sweet mint, because I had come
The Desire To Paint
Unhappy perhaps is the man, but happy the artist, who is torn with this desire.
I burn to paint a certain woman who has appeared to me so rarely, and so swiftly fled away, like some beautiful, regrettable thing the traveller must leave behind him in the night. It is already long since I saw her.
She is beautiful, and more than beautiful: she is overpowering. The colour black preponderates in her; all that she inspires is nocturnal and profound.
Her eyes are two caverns where mystery vaguely stirs and gleams; her glance illuminates like a ray of light; it is an explosion in the darkness.
Before me lies a mass of shapeless days,
Unseparated atoms, and I must
Sort them apart and live them. Sifted dust
Covers the formless heap. Reprieves, delays,
The gold moth did not love him
So, gorgeous, she flew away.
But the gray moth circled the flame
Until the break of day.
Say, crimson Rose and dainty Daffodil,
With Violet blue;
Since you have seen the beauty of my saint,
And eke her view;
Love Is The Most Important
It's sadness in the world, despair, pain,
Nothing is easy, nothing is certain,
Only the sea, the sun and the sky makes me happy and i think,
That's worthy to fight and for life to win.
Two Old Houses
Away from mismatched buildings which seems to go on above the 7th heaven with perfect shape and structure yet with poorest enlightenment, there is a pretty yet petty little small town at the edge of the waters.
Away from cold hearts handling warm coffee sitting in crisp winter air, there is a town with warm hearts handling cold coffee in peaceful summer air.
A bit too far away from here in that pretty little town, there is a street with perfect enlightenment and finally in that street, there stands two houses proudly facing each other since 1987.
One house Is bold white and the other one is dull black with same structure, same kind of tulips in their garden which sway slightly in the same air as they nod each other greetings in the morning.
Venus And Adonis
Even as the sun with purple-coloured face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheeked Adonis hied him to the chase;
Hunting he loved, but love he laughed to scorn.
Under the death of winter's leaves he lies
who cried to Nothing and the terrible night
to be his home and bread. 'O take from me
the weight and waterfall ceaseless Time
As yon great Sun in his supreme condition
Absorbs small worlds and makes them all his own,
So does my love absorb each vain ambition
Each outside purpose which my life has known.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
A smiling moon is a hearts desire ,
But eclipses are what make it worth ,
O forlorn night why do you despair?
Your deepest sorrow is your prettiest attire.
A lonely child with toil oâ??ertaxed,
Sits Cinderella by the fire;
Her limbs in weariness relaxed,
And in her eyes a sad desire.
Along the narrow Moorish street
A blue-eyed soldier strode.
Veiled from her lashes to her feet
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Mountains covered with snow & forest are the source,
For the cascade of streams & rivers to nourish the lands,
In Virgil's Sacred Verse we find,
That Passion can depress or raise
The Heav'nly, as the Human Mind:
Who dare deny what Virgil says?
Away thou fondling motley humorist,
Leave mee, and in this standing woodden chest,
Consorted with these few bookes, let me lye
In prison, and here be coffin'd, when I dye;
Absalom And Achitophel
In pious times, ere priest-craft did begin,
Before polygamy was made a sin;
When man, on many, multipli'd his kind,
Ere one to one was cursedly confin'd:
Satan Speaks (ii)
I am the Lord your God: even he that made
Material things, and all these signs arrayed
Above you and have set beneath the race
Of mankind, who forget their Father's face
C. S. Lewis