Poems of Beauty

[co121]

Dear Mohammad
Your poem is really magnificent and significant

Good Luck

[Behroooz]

hello mohammad
it was very good .

i want to say some thing to you .

if it is your first poem so what about your second poem .....
please continue...

[swastika]

well this ain't my first poem or id better say lyrics cause it has music along with it ,just wanted to know how
you feel when you go through the lines

Degradation

you should have broken me
long before my degradation
cause now it's late for me to climb above

you should have thrown me away
long before your affectation
makes me feel i'm in love

now its late for me to understand
the price of your love is too high to be in demand
and i will let go of these crazy thoughts
and i will let go of this sensible feel
and i'll try to forget what has gone by
and i'll try to comprehend all thats real

oh its real(2x)

you never thought of me
even though your emotions
made me believe your love is real

you couldn't trust in me
just because your expectations
were too hard for me to fulfill


now its late for me to understand
the price of your love is too high to be in demand
and i will let go of these crazy thoughts
and i will let go of this sensible feel
and i'll try to forget what has gone by
and i'll try to comprehend all thats real

[shahrzad2006]

hi again
i will start with this one and i promise to write more
WE ARE SEVEN

William Wordsworth

--------A SIMPLE Child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?

I met a little cottage Girl:
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That clustered round her head.

She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad: 10
Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
--Her beauty made me glad.

"Sisters and brothers, little Maid,
How many may you be?"
"How many? Seven in all," she said
And wondering looked at me.

"And where are they? I pray you tell."
She answered, "Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea. 20

"Two of us in the church-yard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And, in the church-yard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother."

"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,
Yet ye are seven!--I pray you tell,
Sweet Maid, how this may be."

Then did the little Maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we; 30
Two of us in the church-yard lie,
Beneath the church-yard tree."

"You run about, my little Maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the church-yard laid,
Then ye are only five."

"Their graves are green, they may be seen,"
The little Maid replied,
"Twelve steps or more from my mother's door,
And they are side by side. 40

"My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit,
And sing a song to them.

"And often after sunset, Sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.

"The first that died was sister Jane;
In bed she moaning lay, 50
Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.

"So in the church-yard she was laid;
And, when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I.

"And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side." 60

"How many are you, then," said I,
"If they two are in heaven?"
Quick was the little Maid's reply,
"O Master! we are seven."

"But they are dead; those two are dead!
Their spirits are in heaven!"
'Twas throwing words away; for still
The little Maid would have her will,
And said, "Nay, we are seven!"
1798.
.

[goodpoet]

Loving You..

How my thoughts
are racing soooo...
I just whispered aloud -
"I love you...",
and have the softest feeling -
for real,
no teasing.

You 'get' to me so damnably easy...
I don't know or understand why
or how -
you just do.
It's because...
somehow... we... belong.
I know...
silly me.

I melt at some awkward times
and just shake my head at others.
But I want to hold you so tight
and make love to you
and hold you close afterward
and make love to you
and just 'be' with you
and love you.

Woman...the thoughts that just race by
physical... mental...
my stomachs a big knot
and I want to sing,
smile... just laugh...
shake it off...
but can't.

I want you curled with me,
around me,
on me.
I want to be in you -
a part of you...
held so very tight and close...
and never let go.
I want to touch you,
taste...
explore...
mentally, physically...
and more -
so much more.
I want to play
and 'be'
as only we can.

How my thoughts
are racing soooo...
such is the beginning
of 'loving' you...
silly me.

[goodpoet]

she will stay

The Echoes tracing in the mind.
The Essence of You, she seeks.
With hopes to one day find…
Yet, deep inside herself, she retreats.

her Journey taking her far and wide.
In very few, she will confide.
Aching for her Masters Touch…
Bringing forth from her… so much.

she finds herself seeking her One,
Ever faithful in her Journey, her Quest.
Knowing the past can never be undone,
her loyalty constantly put to test.

Your Call bringing her soul alert.
Closer to You, with every day.
Licking every wound of her hurt,
Knowing one day with You, she will stay.

The Essence of You,
Bringing slave to her knees.
Through and through…
It is only You, slave aims to please.

she crawls, she trembles,
accepting solace along the way.
Inside herself, she always remembers…
The care You have on display.

Leaving the safety of her nest…
she crawls, doing her very best.
she knows You await,
she knows one day... her Fate.
You beckon to her in every way,
Safety for her, You create.

Knowing her yearnings deep within...
Will bring her to the day…
A new Exchange will begin,
And within Your soul, this slave will stay.

From Master, she will never need hide.
Sharing with You, a Love like no other.
With joy, in You, slave will confide.
Only You will stand above her.

A Kiss of Completion…
Masters Kiss... like no other.
Without definition or hesitation,
she knows You will stand before her.

As time carries on…
In Journey Together…
From her soul... a song…
No more tumultuous weather.

So, in her solitude of today…
The sky, her soul, seemingly so gray.
A song deep inside, strumming… alluring...
It is the song only Master and this slave will Know.

And at Your Will… this slave will stay.
As it is with Master Above...
Kneeling before You, as slave… below.

[goodpoet]

1st dessert

tucked away near a hidden hollow
is the stone cabin peppered
with smattering of fresh white snow

a long grey wispy trail of smoke
rises into the cloudless cyan sky
and turns southward by winter's gale

inside the safe sanctuary it smells of soup
mixed with the rising homemade bread
taking me back to childhood joys

I hear her softly singing as she cooks
the cats weave through her steps
and graze her calves peeking from black gown

I enter her domain to fill my cup
with Kenyan coffee and a touch of cream
she smiles impishly as if recalling the night

a kiss exchanged as my hands slip between
soft silk and softer warm thrill of skin
finding nothing but flesh underneath

she giggles as I lift her lithe lovely body
placing her at the edge of the counter
her legs wrap tautly around my neck

my tongue snuggles between her pink gate
as I drink from her endless fountain
lapping her sweet musk scented ---

till her moans punctuate each wicked flick
and her river flows freely feeding my lust
a succulent dessert enjoyed before the meal

[Asalbanoo]

FOUR Seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
Spring’s honey’d cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness—to let fair things
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
Or else he would forego his mortal nature.

john keats

[Asalbanoo]

Thou hast made me , and shall thy work decay?
Repair me now , for now mine end dothe haste
I run to death , and death meets me fast
And all my pleasures are like yesterday
I dare not move my deem eyes any way
Despair behind , and death before doth cast
Such terror , and my feeble flesh dothe waste
By sin in it , which it towards hell doth weigh
Onlt thou art above , and when towards thee
By thy leave I can look , I rise again
But our old subtle foe so temteth me
That not one hour myself I can sustain
Thy grace may wing me to prevent his art
And thou like adamant draw mine iron heart

John Donne

[Asalbanoo]

Death ,be not proud , though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful , for thou art not so
For those whom thou think ‘st thou dost overthrow
Die not , poor death , nor yet canst thou kill me
From rest and sleep , which but thy pictures be
Much pleasure ; then from thee much more must flow
And soonest our best men with thee do go
Rest of their bones , and soul ‘ s delivery
Thou art slave to fate , chance , kings , and desperate men
And dost with perison , war , and sickness dwell
And better than thy stroke ; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past , we wake eternally
And death shall be not more ; death , thou shalt die
John Donne