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Woundedback to top

As light and joy may shine their last in sleep,
So heart's last sting won't fade inside me soon.
The jagged edge of love cuts swift and deep,
Lies bleeding 'neath the cold inconstant moon.
As ev'ry thing defines itself by loss,
So too I see what is no longer there.
The gasping heart upon the sea is is toss'd
And hurt by love, like choked by loss of air.
But hardened now, the victim points the blame,
And seeks to wound as wounds were dealt to him.
He weeps, yet flings the words which burn like flame,
With guilt, as loss of love is not decreed by whim.
But hope exists, inside this blooded breast,
That Love's return shall put the fear to rest.

The Life I Missback to top

It was so raucous, with them all around
at times I thought, like some pneumatic drill
alone inside my room, devoid of sound
the memories within are louder still

The constant conflict seemed too high a price
combined with expectations unfulfilled
my wounded pride too great a sacrifice
to salvage what our words had all but killed

So burdened down with charges unredressed
(I wonder now how I could be so blind)
That I would fail to see what I possessed
To cast it off and leave it all behind

Regret with bitter irony underscored
To think I miss the life I once abhorred

Sonnet 33back to top

How well the budding roses bear their thorns,
And carry each to each their ripe conceit -
How hostile weeds the blushing violets scorn
That they will never breathe, nor smell as sweet,

Nor feel the fawning that makes morning wet
Of lowly earth that's churning with their taste,
For it, like dawn, upon prime region's set,
And will not rest until they come to waste.

How lofty are the lows of growing ache,
How rapturous the rancor of the wound;
Where blood is letting unkind lust may take
But pure love is upon it all too soon:

As beds too rich do kill the higher part,
So does the lower passion kill the heart.


Attempt at Indifference in the Presence of Love back to top

An attempt at indifference only increases yearning
as each battle or war is lost trying to forget.
We do everything possible only to feel regret
for we turn away still feeling the same longing.

We try to change another within our passing days.
Despite our efforts, the other remains the same,
and we, ourselves, never seem to experience change
as love blinds reason to the beloved's errant ways.

We present indifference to love only to vary suffering,
for the possible death of love keeps us dying.
Despite youth, we may become akin to wilted flower.

When we are rejected, passion always seems to grow
as this temporal life starts to lose its soul
and true love somehow survives until its dying hour.


Truth in Love and Love in You back to top

If I were out of breath could I blaspheme?
Would words run from true bliss and be blasé?
If I should doubt life's death could I still dream?
Can fancy live forever in a day?
Ah, if you were my love - the thought but precious death -
Would life become illusion, blown away
In blasty breezes born of your sweet breath?
Should strife of new infusion so inflame,
Full-rife with love and labor to arouse
All verity? Ah, ay. I say your name
And my soul flies, for in my heart you house
The estuation to my lust expire -
Love blows my breast; I burn in your fresh fire.

What, truth in love alone? Ah. Ay.
For all illusion you will liquefy.


No Greater Love back to top

No greater love hath anyone than mine
And joyous be every night and day,
That we will remain for the rest of time
And in that way we shall forever stay.
I love thee more than the first day of spring,
More than a mother loves a child at birth.
A love much lighter than an angel's wing,
No love is greater on heaven nor earth.
Love and your beauty shall always remain,
My feelings for you be always the same

[iambic pentameter is not as hard as everyone seems to think it is :)]


Sonata No.2 Deel III back to top

Waarom ben ik uit mijn geboorteland
- Dat mij zo lief was - toch voorgoed verdwenen.
De opstand daar heeft mij te veel doen wenen,
Waardoor ik toen in Frankrijk ben beland.

Daar, in mijn nieuwe, tweede vaderland
Is zij mij in een bange droom verschenen.
Ik stond toen even weer op beide benen
En had mijn muzikale hart verpand.

Zij was een schrijfster - ik een componist
Die meer van noten dan van woorden wist -
Misschien was dat bij voorbaat al een teken.

Door mijn relatie met het meisje Sand
Ben ik behoorlijk in de stress beland,
Dat is uit "Marche Funebre"wel gebleken.

w.g. Fr.Chopin


Sonnet LI back to top

At the point of my dying, drowned out in her eyes, I receive
In the place where twin garments of fire alight, and it dances.
My prayer to her is answered in voiceless exchanges,
Which reach back to touch me, as I now beholding believe
That here lies no lying, a gift made too swift to deceive:
Caught where all softens, the path pure perception arranges,
So smoothly shot, it seems to lose track of its changes:
A depth of sense so eloquent, it pains me to perceive.

Something too deep in its own flame for any receiving
Lights her, looking back now to frame the beholder,
A message which almost dies on itself in its moving:
A universe born for one moment in time, grown older
Each time I recall to myself, how I stood in removing
My self, redivided in she, from one glimpse of forever.


Those Still Walking back to top

Pain will rise and gain 'cause awake deprives
When life escapes its when you sleep away
The tears that bring sorrow now have arrived
When sleep overcomes your breath of light slay

Those still walking will feel your pain today
Then comes their feel of loss; cycle of grief
Tears flow to ground they will to hair bring gray
Sink in sorrow deep in without relief

Cycle continues free without release
Those still walking know yet no end to when
The pain will cease when you decrease the lease
Of Life will see death it marks the end

As one can see it never ends the rain
Those still walking will know its name: a Pain


Roses back to top

A rose is something sweeter than the earth.
The silky petals represent true love.
It lets a woman know her real true worth.
Something innocent and pure like a dove.

When giv'n a rose she knows it's right, right then.
Nothing could ever take their love away.
They are there with each other day and night.
Their passion is forever there to stay.

They both know each other inside and out.
When giv'n a rose she knows they've crossed the line.
This is what love is truly all about.
They both know everything will work out fine.

That's what a women thinks of a rose.
When she gets it all of this she knows.


Courtingback to top

An invitation sent by others' lips,
in hopes it will be pleasantly received ,
is followed up with offhand little quips
ensuring the intended is deceived
of racing pulse and rapid beating heart.
To hide the fact that shaking hands are wrung
in nervousness, a conversation starts,
yet spoken with an impotence of tongue,
revealing pseudo confidence and verve.
Appearing nonchalant, the sender feigns
indifference towards the traitor signs of nerves,
pretending pride and self-respect remain,
when, in effect, the once-intended wanes -
and all attempts to woo were but in vain.


A Deep Relationship back to top

I really love you my beloved wife
If you break my heart and leave me lon'ly
It feel like you cut my heart with a knife
So please don't let your love be so phony
I will give you all my heart, body, and soul
Only if you will be true to my feelings
And to you I will make your life worth gold
If your heart was scarred I would aid the healing
I give you all the love my heart possess
Our love each morning, noon, and night I pray
IF your loving score high on my love test
I will be so happy you would make my day
So if you just let me have a lifetime
I promise you that you will be all mine


Spring Days back to top

Upstream downstream red, black, blue, green I've seen
Big small not really tall water rain makes wet
Round fish slim fish flowing up and down stream
Playing splashing in the water comes a silhouette

Flowers bloom round and round colors black, blue not found
Green grass, yellow bees, lots of weeds I see
Die in winter live in spring beautiful around
Big bushies lots of grass coming towards me

Hail, sleet, snow, or rain flowers grow and fish swim
Sun shine and starts ever day colorful a new
Going with life if you see light or dim
Peaceful playing in the park only for just two

No matter the weather as hard as it may seem
Bloom like flowers and swim like the fish up stream


" Come live with me ..." back to top

Come live with me, and be my love
I can give you riches of the world
I can fill you life kisses and hugs
I will keep you flooded with fine pearl
I will love you no matter what happens
Our love can be real if you believe
I will love you better that way then
All we need is a little of fate
To love you is not a problem
And believe these words I Love You girl
If we come across any we'll solve them
You just feel my love I'll fell yours
And in the end nothing can stop our love
And I just thank God for sending you from above.


My Sonnet On Writing A Sonnet !back to top

Hey kids lets try to write a sonnet
I know you can, its easy, you'll see
It'll put a feather in your bonnet,
C'mon kids, you can write one with me.

Just think of some words to rhyme
And some ideas that are cool
You'll put it all together in time,
And read it to your friends at school

Now just put down some ditties
And put down some lyrical thoughts
C'mon you can do it kiddies
Hey, look at the poetry you just wrought?

See, I knew you could bring it on home
You just completed a sonnet, a most beautiful poem.

by Stan H. Rose (English Teacher at University Heights HS Bronx, NY)


The Dance of Life back to top

Soft notes from the orchestra can be heard,
Bright lights appear, a statue springs to life.
Distant yet graceful; she is a bird,
Her silent song like that of a fife.
Moving, twirling, lost in her summer dance.
Her silhouette sharp against the dark background.
She knows not structure, only fate and chance.
A child's naivety in her does abound.
But a leaf in fall gently tumbles down.
A mistake in music, just she understands.
Icy and sad, now winter is her crown.
The music stops; no longer in her hands.
They cheer, yet she is lifeless, torn apart,
Longing for the music that was her heart

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