| Sonnet: A Haunted Heart |
[Jan. 22nd, 2010|12:26 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | poem | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Ghost of Love by The Rasmus | ] |
A Haunted Heart
There are days of sweet bliss
Days where we just love and kiss
Then there are days I'm haunted
I always wonder why,
but I just cry.
It's so hard to go undaunted.
make my heart stop hurting,
Break this curse, do something that is diverting
Lift this weight off my chest.
If only you knew,
Just how much I love you
Please save my heart from being so stressed.
Please help my heart let this pain free,
And please don't ever leave me
Nova_23 |
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| Inside My Head-by Meganekko |
[Nov. 8th, 2008|03:45 pm] |
Inside My Head
Thoughts, thoughts, inside my head,
Where are we going now?
To the circus, horse races, or to buy a dumbell?
Oh poor mind, you follow no reason, no rhyme,
Even I can't follow this time
Oh my mind, you're so insane, I am embarrassed for you,
You shriek as a madman, gibbering and pointing,
I shall pretend I don't know you.
...Oh great, now everyone is looking at us again.
-![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) meganekko |
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| The Dreams of a Moon and Sun's Slumber |
[Sep. 25th, 2008|10:38 pm] |
the little sun sleeps
quiet and content
while the moon floats
and watches over the world
in the morning the moon lays down
it's shining face
and drifts into deathly slumber
and the little sun wakens
and takes it's place in the sky
he smiles and sends down warmth
upon everyone on this earth
sometimes too much
sometimes too little
but always he is there
calm and contant
always following his brother the moon
Forever
-meganekko |
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| Poem, Anne Bradstreet |
[Sep. 2nd, 2008|07:14 am] |
Here followes some verses upon the burning of our house, July 10th, 1666.
By Anne Bradstreet
In silent night when rest I took,
For sorrow neer I did not look,
I waken'd was with thundring nois
And Piteous shreiks of dreadfull voice.
That fearfull sound of fire and fire,
Let no man know is my Desire.
I, starting up, the light did spye,
And to my God my heart did cry
To strengthen me in my Distresse
And not to leave me succourlesse.
Then coming out beheld a space,
The flame consume my dwelling place.
And, when I could no longer look,
I blest his Name that gave and took,
That layd my goods now in the dust:
Yea so it was, and so 'twas just.
It was his own: it was not mine;
Far be it that I should repine.
He might of All justly bereft,
But yet sufficient for us left.
When by the Ruines oft I past,
My sorrowing eyes aside did cast,
And here and there the places spye
Where oft I sate, and long did lye.
Here stood that Trunk, and there that chest;
There lay that store I counted best:
My pleasant things in ashes lye,
And them behold no more shall I.
Under thy roof no guest shall sitt,
Nor at thy Table eat a bitt.
No pleasant tale shall 'ere be told,
Nor things recounted done of old.
No Candle 'ere shall shine in Thee,
Nor bridegroom's voice ere heard shall bee.
In silence ever shalt thou lye;
Adieu, Adeiu; All's vanity.
Then streight I gin my heart to chide,
And didst thy wealth on earth abide?
Didst fix thy hope on mouldring dust,
The arm of flesh didst make thy trust?
Raise up thy thoughts above the skye
That dunghill mists away may flie.
Thou hast an house on high erect
Fram'd by that mighty Architect,
With glory richly furnished,
Stands permanent tho' this bee fled.
It's purchased, and paid for too
By him who hath enough to doe.
A Prise so vast as is unknown,
Yet, by his Gift, is made thine own.
Ther's wealth enough, I need no more;
Farewell my Pelf, farewell my Store.
The world no longer let me Love,
My hope and Treasure lyes Above. |
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| The Human Abstract |
[May. 19th, 2008|09:42 am] |
The Human Abstract, by William Blake
Pity would be no more
If we did not make somebody poor,
And Mercy no more could be
If all were as happy as we.
And mutual fear brings Peace,
Till the selfish loves increase;
Then Cruelty knits a snare,
And spreads his baits with care.
He sits down with holy fears,
And waters the ground with tears;
Then Humility takes its root
Underneath his foot.
Soon spreads the dismal shade
Of Mystery over his head,
And the caterpillar and fly
Feed on the Mystery.
And it bears the fruit of Deceit,
Ruddy and sweet to eat,
And the raven his nest has made
In its thickest shade.
The gods of the earth and sea
Sought through nature to find this tree,
But their search was all in vain:
There grows one in the human Brain. |
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| To the River, by Edgar Allen Poe |
[May. 1st, 2008|05:02 pm] |
To the River
Fair river! in thy bright, clear flow
Of crystal, wandering water,
Thou art an emblem of the glow
Of beauty- the unhidden heart-
The playful maziness of art
In old Alberto's daughter;
But when within thy wave she looks-
Which glistens then, and trembles-
Why, then, the prettiest of brooks
Her worshipper resembles;
For in his heart, as in thy stream,
Her image deeply lies-
His heart which trembles at the beam
Of her soul-searching eyes.
-Edgar Allen Poe |
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| In a Disused Grave Yard |
[Apr. 12th, 2008|07:46 pm] |
IN A DISUSED GRAVE YARD
The living come with grassy tread
To read the gravestones on the hill;
The graveyard draws the living still,
But never anymore the dead.
The verses in it say and say:
"The ones who living come today
To read the stones and go away
Tomorrow dead will come to stay."
So sure of death the marbles rhyme,
Yet can't help marking all the time
How no one dead will seem to come.
What is it men are shrinking from?
It would be easy to be clever
And tell the stones: Men hate to die
And have stopped dying now forever.
I think they would believe the lie.
-Robert Frost
Robert Frost. What can I say? Excellent poems, appreciated by almost everyone. |
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[Mar. 28th, 2008|05:18 pm] |
Lost in the forest...
Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.
Something from far off it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.
Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind
as if suddenly the roots I had left behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood---
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.
Pablo Neruda |
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| A Poime by Me |
[Mar. 24th, 2008|10:51 am] |
Inside My Head
Thoughts, thoughts, inside my head,
Where are we going now?
To the circus, horse races, or to buy a dumbell?
Oh poor mind, you follow no reason, no rhyme,
Even I can't follow this time
Oh my mind, you're so insane, I am embarrassed for you,
You shriek as a madman, gibbering and pointing,
I shall pretend I don't know you.
...Oh great, now everyone is looking at us again.
-Meganekko |
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| The Tiger |
[Mar. 21st, 2008|06:50 am] |
Here is another well-known poem. I will be doing the more commonly recognized poems at first, and then moving on to the more unusual one.
The Tiger
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And, when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
-William Blake |
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chipper
accomplished
awake
bouncy
artistic