Welcome

The bright n’ sweet, the fresh and cheerful,

the sad n’ grieved, the pained and the hopeful,
varied as life, oh! so magical,so mystical,
as true as God, beautiful and wonderful,

come dear friend, come, let us together see
the golden smiles and tears of poetry!

A cheery hello to whoever visits this blog.

I love poetry. And that’s exactly what this blog is going to have. All the poems that I read, have read, and fallen in love with. Slowly and over time, I hope to build here a treasure trove of great poetic gems. I’d appreciate it a lot if you help me by sharing your favourite English poems. Let’s revel in the magic of poesy and discover great gems…

Best wishes to all who visit,

Do come again…

Jyoti Arora

I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You, By: Pablo Neruda

I do not love you except because I love you;

I go from loving to not loving you,

From waiting to not waiting for you

My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it’s you the one I love;

I hate you deeply, and hating you

Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you

Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume

My heart with its cruel

Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who

Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,

Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.

***

Dream’s Sake

Sonnet: July 18th 1787, by William Lisle Bowles

O Time! who know’st a lenient hand to lay

Softest on sorrow’s wound, and slowly thence

(Lulling to sad repose the weary sense)

The faint pang stealest unperceived away;

On thee I rest my only hope at last,

And think, when thou hast dried the bitter tear

That flows in vain o’er all my soul held dear,

I may look back on every sorrow past,

And meet life’s peaceful evening with a smile -

As some lone bird, at day’s departing hour,

Sings in the sunbeam, of the transient shower

Forgetful, though its wings are wet the while: -

Yet ah! how much must that poor heart endure,

Which hopes from thee, and thee alone, a cure!

Dream’s Sake

Conflict of Contrary Passions in a Love, By: – Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503-1542)

I Find no peace, and all my war is done,

I fear, and hope, I burn, and freeze like ice,

I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise.

And nought I have, and all the world I season.

That loseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison,

And boldeth me not, yet can I  scape nowise:

Nor letteth me live nor die at my devise;

And yet of death it giveth me occasion.

Without eyen I see, and without tongue I plain (complain)

I desire to perish, and yet I ask health:

I love another, and thus I hate myself:

I feed me in sorrow, and laugh at all my pain.

Likewise displeaseth me both death and life,

And my delight is causer of my strife.

Dream’s Sake

The Seven Ages of Man, By: Shakespeare

All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players,

They have their exits and entrances,

And one man in his time plays many parts,

His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,

Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.

Then, the whining schoolboy with his satchel

And shining morning face, creeping like snail

Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,

Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad

Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,

Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,

Jealous in honour, sudden, and quick in quarrel,

Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice

In fair round belly, with good capon lin’d,

With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,

Full of wise saws, and modern instances,

And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts

Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,

With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side,

His youthful hose well sav’d, a world too wide,

For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,

Turning again towards childish treble, pipes

And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,

That ends this strange eventful history,

Is second childishness and mere oblivion,

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

***

Dream’s Sake

An Ode to Idleness, By: Henry Davis

What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,

And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this is if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

The Song of the Camp-Fire, By: Robert W. Service

I

Heed me, feed me, I am hungry, I am red-tongued with desire;

Boughs of balsam, slabs of cedar, gummy fagots of the pine,

Heap them on me, let me hug them to my eager heart of fire,

Roaring, soaring up to heaven as a symbol and a sign.

Bring me knots of sunny maple, silver birch and tamarack;

Leaping, sweeping, I will lap them with my ardent wings of flame;

I will kindle them to glory, I will beat the darkness back;

Streaming, gleaming, I will goad them to my glory and my fame.

Bring me gnarly limbs of live-oak, aid me in my frenzied fight;

Strips of iron-wood, scaly blue-gum, writhing redly in my hold;

With my lunge of lurid lances, with my whips that flail the night,

They will burgeon into beauty, they will foliate in gold.

Let me star the dim sierras, stab with light the inland seas;

Roaming wind and roaring darkness! seek no mercy at my hands;

I will mock the marly heavens, lamp the purple prairies,

I will flaunt my deathless banners down the far, unhouseled lands.

In the vast and vaulted pine-gloom where the pillared forests frown,

By the sullen, bestial rivers running where God only knows,

On the starlit coral beaches when the combers thunder down,

In the death-spell of the barrens, in the shudder of the snows;

In a blazing belt of triumph from the palm-leaf to the pine,

As a symbol of defiance lo! the wilderness I span;

And my beacons burn exultant as an everlasting sign

Of unending domination, of the mastery of Man;

I, the Life, the fierce Uplifter, I that weaned him from the mire;

I, the angel and the devil, I, the tyrant and the slave;

I, the Spirit of the Struggle; I, the mighty God of Fire;

I, the Maker and Destroyer; I, the Giver and the Grave.

***

Dream's Sake

Poetry quote – - Samuel Taylor Coleridge

” No man was ever yet a great poet,

without being at the same time a profound philosopher.

For poetry is the blossom and the fragrance of all human knowledge,

human thoughts, human passions, emotions, language. “

Look to this day, By: Kalidasa

Look to this day:

For it is life, the very life of life.

In its brief course

Lie all the verities and realities of your existence.

The bliss of growth,

The glory of action,

The splendour of achievement

Are but experiences of time.

For yesterday is but a dream

And tomorrow is only a vision;

And today well-lived, makes

Yesterday a dream of happiness

And every tomorrow a vision of hope.

Look well therefore to this day;

Such is the salutation to the ever-new dawn!

***

Dream's Sake

The Spell Checker Poem

To know about the interesting history of this poem, visit: http://grammar.about.com/od/spelling/a/spellcheck.htm

Candidate for a Pullet Surprise

by Mark Eckman and Jerrold H. Zar

I have a spelling checker,

It came with my PC.

It plane lee marks four my revue

Miss steaks aye can knot sea.

Eye ran this poem threw it,

Your sure reel glad two no.

Its vary polished in it’s weigh.

My checker tolled me sew.

A checker is a bless sing,

It freeze yew lodes of thyme.

It helps me right awl stiles two reed,

And aides me when eye rime.

Each frays come posed up on my screen

Eye trussed too bee a joule.

The checker pours o’er every word

To cheque sum spelling rule.

Bee fore a veiling checker’s

Hour spelling mite decline,

And if we’re lacks oar have a laps,

We wood bee maid too wine.

Butt now bee cause my spelling

Is checked with such grate flare,

Their are know fault’s with in my cite,

Of nun eye am a wear.

Now spelling does knot phase me,

It does knot bring a tier.

My pay purrs awl due glad den

With wrapped word’s fare as hear.

To rite with care is quite a feet

Of witch won should bee proud,

And wee mussed dew the best wee can,

Sew flaw’s are knot aloud.

Sow ewe can sea why aye dew prays

Such soft wear four pea seas,

And why eye brake in two averse

Buy righting want too pleas.

Eletelephony, Octopaus and Kid brother :)

~*~ Eletelephony ~*~

By: – Laura Elizabeth Richards

Once there was an elephant,

Who tried to use the telephant–

No! No! I mean an elephone

Who tried to use the telephone–

(Dear me! I am not certain quite

That even now I’ve got it right).

Howe’er it was, he got his trunk

Entangled in the telephunk;

The more he tried to get it free,

The louder buzzed the telephee–

(I fear I’d better drop the song

Of elephop and telephong!)

*****

~*~ THE OCTOPUS~*~

By: – Ogden Nash

Tell me, O Octopus, I begs

Is those things arms, or is they legs?

I marvel at thee, Octopus;

If I were thou, I’d call me Us.

*********

~*~ My Baby Brother~*~

By: – Bruce Lansky

My baby brother is so small,

he’s hardly even there at all.

The only way that we can find him

is by the smell he leaves behind him.