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How goodness heightens beauty!

quote by Milan Kundera
Added by Lucian Velea
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Beauty And The Beast

A Merchant, who by generous pains
Prospered in honourable gains,
Could boast, his wealth and fame to share,
Three manly Sons, three Daughters fair;
With these he felt supremely blest.-
His latest born surpass'd the rest:
She was so gentle, good and kind,
So fair in feature, form, and mind,
So constant too in filial duty,
The neighbours called her Little Beauty!
And when fair childhood's days were run,
That title still she wore and won;
Lovelier as older still she grew,
Improv'd in grace and goodness too.-
Her elder Sisters, gay and vain,
View'd her with envy and disdain,
Toss'd up their heads with haughty air;
Dress, Fashion, Pleasure, all their care.

'Twas thus, improving and improv'd;
Loving, and worthy to be lov'd,
Sprightly, yet grave, each circling day
Saw Beauty innocently gay.
Thus smooth the May-like moments past;
Blest times! but soon by clouds o'ercast!

Sudden as winds that madd'ning sweep
The foaming surface of the deep,
Vast treasures, trusted to the wave,
Were buried in the billowy grave!
Our Merchant, late of boundless store,
Saw Famine hasting to his door.

With willing hand and ready grace,
Mild Beauty takes the Servant's place;
Rose with the sun to household cares,
And morn's repast with zeal prepares,
The wholesome meal, the cheerful fire:
What cannot filial love inspire?
And when the task of day was done,
Suspended till the rising sun,
Music and song the hours employ'd,
As more deserv'd, the more enjoy'd;
Till Industry, with Pastime join'd,
Refresh'd the body and the mind;
And when the groupe retir'd to rest,
Father and Brothers Beauty blest.

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poem by Charles Lamb
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There Is A Goodness That Comes

When I feel a good deed is done,
I feel a goodness that comes over me.
And when I know I can let go of my woes,
I feel a goodness that comes over me.

I feel a goodness that comes.
A goodness that comes.
There is a goodness that comes over me.

I feel a goodness that comes.
I feel a goodness that comes.
There is a goodness that comes over me.

When I awaken from a peaceful sleep,
There is a goodness that comes over me.

There is a goodness that comes.
There is a goodness that comes.
There is a goodness that comes over me.

When I feel a good deed is done,
I feel a goodness that comes over me.
And when I know I can let go of my woes,
I feel a goodness that comes over me.

I feel a goodness that comes.
I feel a goodness that comes.
There is a goodness that I feel over me.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Woefull Lamentation Of Jane Shore

The woefull lamentation of Jane Shore, a goldsmith's wife in London, sometime king Edward IV. his concubine. To the tune of 'Live with me,' &c.

If Rosamonde, that was so faire,
Had cause her sorrowes to declare,
Then let Jane Shore with sorrowe sing,
That was beloved of a king.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.

In maiden yeares my beautye bright
Was loved dear of lord and knight;
But yet the love that they requir'd,
It was not as my friends desir'd.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.

My parents they, for thirst of gaine,
A husband for me did obtaine;
And I, their pleasure to fulfille,
Was forc'd to wedd against my wille.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.

To Matthew Shore I was a wife,
Till lust brought ruine to my life;
And then my life I lewdlye spent,
Which makes my soul for to lament.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.

In Lombard-street I once did dwelle,
As London yet can witness welle;
Where many gallants did beholde
My beautye in a shop of golde.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.

I spred my plumes, as wantons doe,
Some sweet and secret friende to wooe,
Because chast love I did not finde
Agreeing to my wanton minde.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.

At last my name in court did ring
Into the eares of Englandes king,
Who came and lik'd, and love requir'd,
But I made coye what he desir'd.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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The Fair of Beauty

I must confess! An angel must hide placidly undermine eyelids, for when I close them I see a word magnanimously delightful, and when I open them I see a pageant as sweet as a garden of sugar. I see the land of Lucien.

With languorous sunsets, charming lakes and emerald grass the land of Lucien is a place of beauty. It is a kingdom where romance lavishes the land. In the heart of Lucien, a small castle stands, ornamented with stained glass, beautiful balustrades and gothic arches. The gray stone which holds it together is forged by the hands of many peasants, but its form was conceived by the mind of one talented artisan. This gives the building a real integrity and a strange personality peculiar to one man. To that man no one knew or knows, no myth even could or can shed light into its mystery. "Mysteries shall be left mysterious, for shall they be discovered they lose their charm, " Madame Rupert once said with the eloquence of an aristocrat.

In this story there is no place for mystery, for beauty is forever revealing itself to us, but here is short history of Lucien. In order to understand this story I must give an account of the castle. The castle is called the house of Rupert, for the Rupert's have reigned over the land of Lucien for many a century. The family is everything royal except their horrible habit of being unconventional. They never marry within royal line, for they suffer from the malady of beauty and love and the lads of the family hold beauty contests to chose the wife they think the most beautiful. Dowries mean nil compared to a charming countenance in this world. They worship love, as other's worship the mammoth, however, they worship love with as much avidity as others worship the latter, that it would be quite pernicious to their name in a practical world, therefore, I thank Venus for making my land of Lucien quite unpractical, for here the Rupert's mania for beauty doesn't seem to affect their status, or their sanity, and more importantly their virtue.

Beauty! Beauty is the way of life here. The Rupert's excessive love of beauty transcends the emotion of admiration and even slips importunately into the realm of Justice. To the Rupert's, justice must follow the law of beauty, hence the inscription engraved in marble adorning the head of the entrance way which reads Beauty is Thine Nature, Justice Must Protect Thine Nature, and Good Shall Prosper Here, For Justice is Not Just Shall It Produce Bad Results.

The Story begins.

On this day, the 11th of August, the patriarch, the king, the majestic lord, King Eric de Rupert, dressed in raiment ebony, laced with gold ruffles, calls into session the Fair of Beauty. The king's brown Moorish eyes overlook the crowd and its meticulous beauty. The praetorian guards stand erect and proud; magenta rubies are sewn into the turbans resting upon their heads; their scarlet cloaks are stained with the blood of dead youth and underneath their pleasant attire lay a well of gold, for their skin appears to be laced with gold.

Dear reader, music always seems to sing from the heart. For musicians play lovely tunes with their skillfully wrought instruments. The ceremony is conducted in a way to infuse a merry emollient on all the hearts of all the spectators'. The scenery is potent in beautiful colors, an elegant display of fashion rests listlessly on all who attend, and an uncanny feast is prepared and served in lovely style, that one didn't notice, if what one is eating, is good or not. That is the charm of beauty here, it has no taste, like water, it is a necessity to live.
A squire whispers to his wanton mistress, "The King appears to be alone, for where is his noble wife and her amorous spirit? "
"The King looks so handsome this evening maybe he'll notice my azure mascara, " said Lyla to her girlfriend Plenie.
"The King sees nothing but beauty, that is what makes him so irresistible, " replied Plenie.
'For twenty years he has ruled with compassion and benevolence, and twenty years more shall he be loved with compassion and benevolence, " said Lorenzo the accountant.

(The King rises from a throne made of Persian Wood)

The King: "Tis my favorite time of all my life. The Fair of Beauty is born again. My apologies, my fellow citizens, for my wife's heart is empty of jealously; for it flows through her purple veins. I am sorry for time has wrinkled her very forehead and shriveled her very hands. She will not attend this lovely noble ceremony because she is conceived herself not beautiful enough. I, myself, could not convince her, that she herself, is still beautiful in body and soul. For she is a woman and gentleman we know how women can be. I give thee my humble apologies for her absence. My people, dear citizens of Lucien, thou shall receive a barrel of honey for such a grievous loss. For I know how thee cherish her beauty as a school of fish cherish the sea. Therefore let us partake of the glorious ceremony. Shall it begin! "

Here is the Ode of Beauty that my ancestors have passed to me by way of memory and mouth.

Sympathy is in thy sigh,
Kindness blessed thy hand
Beauty is in thy eye
Love looks on thy land
Live and be Free
And thou will See
What is Noble
In You and Me.

King: "Beauty shall triumph! As you know, my son Menillo Rupert, has been courting five exquisite women for the last year. Tonight he shall chose the love of his life, and forever live in happiness, because love is the panacea to all our sorrows. For to have love means to never die, to know nothing of vulgarity, to dwell lazily under the eyes of another, and to never know of loneliness. For your beloved knows thee without inquiry and loves thee without scruples."

(Menillo enters escorted by five guardsmen of refined physical features and envious beauty.)

King: "For my son to see true beauty and know real truth his eyes shall be covered by the cloth of Tangerine."

(A Guard places a vermillion blindfold over the eyes of Menillo)

King: Call on the beauties of earth so they can test their heart to the heart of mine son.

(Enter the Five Beauties of Earth)

King: "Shatalana, the first beauty, who comes from the Ivory Coast, whose skin smells of coconuts, whose vigorous eyes stir my lands imagination. How lovely are thee."

King: "Carmelita, the second beauty, who comes from South America, the Incan sun light rests inside thine skin, and your thick strands of hair flow like a gentle spring wind. How lovely are thee."

King: "Unchi, the third beauty, who comes from the Korean peninsula, your skin is a like a doll's skin, and your heart burns with the intensity of a hot spring which colors thy cheek. How lovely are thee."

[...] Read more

poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Beautiful One

Oh beautiful one, adorned with spell
To ravage my world as might a sweet angel.
Oh beautiful thing, so much at ease:
Allure of caressing breeze in touch gentle.

Oh beautiful creature, sail me do,
As floating on seas of halcyon blue tincture.
You beautiful being, gracing charm
And features that render feel of deep texture.

Your beautiful poise in glide supreme,
Gives such like a vista honed as from heaven.
That beautiful art of face ornate,
Not ever to understate or be riven.

Your beautiful flame of pulchritude
Doth dizzy me high, so I conclude always
You beautiful girl forever be
My shining Janette; my guide; my stairway.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Beauty Of A Poem

The beauty of a poem
The beauty of music
The beauty of light
The beauty of life
The beauty which makes us want to live life more
The beauty which pains us inside
The beauty in longing.
The beauty we come upon by surprise
The beauty of the day and the beauty of the night
The beauty we all have inside us
The beauty we can see and feel and never explain
The beauty that lifts us up
The beauty that makes us want to live more
The beauty that makes us reach out to God
The beauty we want to thank God for
The beauty of lilacs
The beauty of autumn leaves
The beauty of the people we love
The beauty that pervades life
The beauty that turns away from us
And will not let us be a part of it
The beauty we hold on to fragilely
As a driven leaf
The beauty the beauty the beauty
Oh life oh God of goodness oh death
The beauty we can never see
And the Beauty within us all
Oh God
The Beauty in us and Beyond us all.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Introit : V. Litany Of Beauty

Joy, if the Soul or aught immortal be,
How may this Beauty know mortality?

O Beauty, perfect child of Light,
Sempiternal spirit of delight!
White and set with gold like the gold of the night,
The gold of the stars in quiet weather,--
White and shapely and pure!--
O lily-flower from stain secure,
With life and virginity dying together!

One lily liveth so,
Liveth for ever unstained, immortal, a mystic flower:
Perfectly wrought its frame,
Gold inwrought and eternal white,
White more white than cold of the snow,
For never, never, near it came,
Never shall come till the end of all,
Hurtful thing in wind or shower,
Worm or stain or blight;
But ever, ever, gently fall
The dews elysian of years that flow
Where it doth live secure
In flawless comeliness mature,
Golden and white and pure.
In the fair far-shining glow
Of eternal and holy Light.

Beauty of earthly things
Wrought by God and with hands of men!
Beauty of Nature and Art,
Fashioned anew for each Time brings,
For each new soul and living heart!
Beauty of Beauty that fills the ken
Till the soul is swooning, faint with delight!
Beauty of human form and voice,
Of eyes and ears and lips!--
O golden hair and brow of white!--
Wine of Beauty that whoso sips
Doth die to a spirit free, and rejoice,
Living with God and living with men,
Rapt rejoice in eternal bliss,
Raising his face to meet the kiss
Of the Beauty seraphic he sees above
In figure of his love.

O Beauty of Wisdom unsought
That in trance to poet is taught,
Uttered in secret lay,
Singing the heart from earth away,

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poem by Thomas MacDonagh
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God is beauty

The beauty of a lady
Spreading love on Internet
The beauty of the first kiss
On the corner of a dark room
The beauty of a crow
Pecking the food into grasses
The beauty of the skins
The beauty of the smile
Of a pretty girl
The beauty of the morning light
The beauty of a queer feeling
Under the shadow of a tree
The beauty of the sparrows
Bathing in the pond
The beauty of the unknowns
The beauty of forgiveness
The beauty of solitude
At a goodbye party
The beauty of a sinking heart
Driving on a steep road
The beauty of a lady
Walking alone
In the park
The beauty of the laughter of a child
The beauty of being loved
The beauty of the pat unexpected
On our shoulder
Saying I am here beside you
The beauty of making love
Early in the morning!
The beauty of the beauty
The beauty of God
The beauty of Jesus
The beauty of Zoroaster
The beauty of Buddha
The beauty of myths
The beauty of goddess
The beauty of you and I!

poem by Framarz Bagheri
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The Growth of Love

1
They that in play can do the thing they would,
Having an instinct throned in reason's place,
--And every perfect action hath the grace
Of indolence or thoughtless hardihood--
These are the best: yet be there workmen good
Who lose in earnestness control of face,
Or reckon means, and rapt in effort base
Reach to their end by steps well understood.
Me whom thou sawest of late strive with the pains
Of one who spends his strength to rule his nerve,
--Even as a painter breathlessly who stains
His scarcely moving hand lest it should swerve--
Behold me, now that I have cast my chains,
Master of the art which for thy sake I serve.

2
For thou art mine: and now I am ashamed
To have uséd means to win so pure acquist,
And of my trembling fear that might have misst
Thro' very care the gold at which I aim'd;
And am as happy but to hear thee named,
As are those gentle souls by angels kisst
In pictures seen leaving their marble cist
To go before the throne of grace unblamed.
Nor surer am I water hath the skill
To quench my thirst, or that my strength is freed
In delicate ordination as I will,
Than that to be myself is all I need
For thee to be most mine: so I stand still,
And save to taste my joy no more take heed.

3
The whole world now is but the minister
Of thee to me: I see no other scheme
But universal love, from timeless dream
Waking to thee his joy's interpreter.
I walk around and in the fields confer
Of love at large with tree and flower and stream,
And list the lark descant upon my theme,
Heaven's musical accepted worshipper.
Thy smile outfaceth ill: and that old feud
'Twixt things and me is quash'd in our new truce;
And nature now dearly with thee endued
No more in shame ponders her old excuse,
But quite forgets her frowns and antics rude,
So kindly hath she grown to her new use.

4

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poem by Robert Seymour Bridges
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David

My thought, on views of admiration hung,
Intently ravish'd and depriv'd of tongue,
Now darts a while on earth, a while in air,
Here mov'd with praise and mov'd with glory there;
The joys entrancing and the mute surprize
Half fix the blood, and dim the moist'ning eyes;
Pleasure and praise on one another break,
And Exclamation longs at heart to speak;
When thus my Genius, on the work design'd
Awaiting closely, guides the wand'ring mind.

If while thy thanks wou'd in thy lays be wrought,
A bright astonishment involve the thought,
If yet thy temper wou'd attempt to sing,
Another's quill shall imp thy feebler wing;
Behold the name of royal David near,
Behold his musick and his measures here,
Whose harp Devotion in a rapture strung,
And left no state of pious souls unsung.

Him to the wond'ring world but newly shewn,
Celestial poetry pronounc'd her own;
A thousand hopes, on clouds adorn'd with rays,
Bent down their little beauteous forms to gaze;
Fair-blooming Innocence with tender years,
And native Sweetness for the ravish'd ears,
Prepar'd to smile within his early song,
And brought their rivers, groves, and plains along;
Majestick Honour at the palace bred,
Enrob'd in white, embroider'd o'er with red,
Reach'd forth the scepter of her royal state,
His forehead touch'd, and bid his lays be great;
Undaunted Courage deck'd with manly charms,
With waving-azure plumes, and gilded arms,
Displaid the glories, and the toils of fight,
Demanded fame, and call'd him forth to write.
To perfect these the sacred spirit came,
By mild infusion of celestial flame,
And mov'd with dove-like candour in his breast,
And breath'd his graces over all the rest.
Ah! where the daring flights of men aspire
To match his numbers with an equal fire;
In vain they strive to make proud Babel rise,
And with an earth-born labour touch the skies.
While I the glitt'ring page resolve to view,
That will the subject of my lines renew;
The Laurel wreath, my fames imagin'd shade,
Around my beating temples fears to fade;
My fainting fancy trembles on the brink,
And David's God must help or else I sink.

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poem by Thomas Parnell
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Who Created This Beautiful World?

Who created this beautiful world?
What a harmony and perfection!
Who thought this beauty, who brought it out?
Who is he that perfected it?
What matching patterns spawn the wonder?
What concinnous rhythms create this charm?
What is that grand invisible hand
That weaves this beauty with rhythms and patterns
That makes beauty, beauty; a divine music?
What a match of place, time and form
That makes this world a joyous feeling!

Beauty infuses life to the world,
Beauty makes the world to speak and sing,
To awaken soul to the creator’s skills
Who gave his rare gifts in abundance.

What brings those hues to youthful glows,
What brings those shapes to enchanting slopes,
What brings gentleness to graceful love,
What brings those grace to ripening age,
What brings brooding beauty to day-break’s freshness,
What brings that beauty to the width of the sky,
To the height of hills and depth of seas,
To the shapes of clouds, to the moods of men
In liquid ease and endless abundance
That no more the world is what it is made of,
But a celestial charm of unknown depth.

A subtle music in joyous rhythms,
A pregnant pattern in brilliant colours,
In human forms, in nature’s moods,
In fast changing life’s variegated hues,
In tides of sea, in tides of life,
Surface to those inner ears and eyes
That keep itself wide open always;
A living rhythm is at work in womb
In hide and seek of light and shadow,
In fall and rise of hills and vales,
In love and hate, in war and peace;
The twinkles of eyes, the gentle smiles,
The blue of the sky, the warm sunshine,
Each is a rich work of a master craftsman.

Day is beauty, night is beauty;
Youth is beauty, old age is beauty;

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poem by Praveen Kumar
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[9] O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!

O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
[LOVE POEMS]

POET: MAHENDRA BHATNAGAR

POEMS

1 Passion And Compassion / 1
2 Affection
3 Willing To Live
4 Passion And Compassion / 2
5 Boon
6 Remembrance
7 Pretext
8 To A Distant Person
9 Perception
10 Conclusion
10 You (1)
11 Symbol
12 You (2)
13 In Vain
14 One Night
15 Suddenly
16 Meeting
17 Touch
18 Face To Face
19 Co-Traveller
20 Once And Once only
21 Touchstone
22 In Chorus
23 Good Omens
24 Even Then
25 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (1)
26 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (2)
27 Life Aspirant
28 To The Condemned Woman
29 A Submission
30 At Midday
31 I Accept
32 Who Are You?
33 Solicitation
34 Accept Me
35 Again After Ages …
36 Day-Dreaming
37 Who Are You?
38 You Embellished In Song

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poem by Mahendra Bhatnagar
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Beauty O beauty I am in love with you

Beauty O beauty I am in love with you
When you are found in the common face
My heart can barely wait to take your place
I see your look in the common race
For there you have placed
In a love that bares no disgrace
Cupid is blind this is true
So do not blame him when he strike you
And a man you find not fair
For half of beauty is within
This you can not see till you woo
And his inner beauty will overthrow
All of your misconceived notions
About what beauty mends
Beauty my man beauty
The common face capture me
The common love I can not see
But this love of the common he
Is what most that moves me
I have no shame to call upon the name
Of gay love tied with a ring
For love of beauty is beyond the dictate of the state
For they are only man made rules
And has not the true power to school
Common beauty can be seen on any street
And the bars where you go to meet
The common men is yout yo greet
Some say that beauty be not common
But they are but fools to think this so
For well does the true poet knows
That beauty is white as the snow
Beauty is black as the night
Beauty is yellow as the sun flower’s petal
Beauty is bronze as the metal
Beauty is red as the blossom of the crape myrtle
Beauty, O beauty its true that you do
To who you care to do
For all the races are filled with you
Beauty by like a tender touch
That in the night will come to irrupt
Beauty be soft, beauty be roughs
To pull back the skin of the silk
And expose the kernels of our love
Beauty o, beauty
Found in women and in men
We know that each of the same sex can comprehend
That a man can find beauty in a man.

poem by David E. Patton
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Great Balls Of Fire

You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain
Too much love can drive a girl insane
You broke my will oh but what a thrill
Goodness gracious great balls of fire
I like that love cause I thought it was funny
You came along and you move me honey
I change my mind this love is sure fine
Goodness gracious great balls of fire
Chorus:
Ooh kiss me baby, ooh it feels good
Ooh hold me, hold me, I would love to love you
Like a lover should
cause youre fine, and so kind
I tell the world that youre mine, mine, mine, mine
I chew my nails and I twiddle my thumbs
Im real nervous but it sure is fun
You broke my will but I love you still and
Goodness gracious great balls of fire
Goodness gracious great balls of fire
Ooh kiss my baby, ooh it feels good, ooh hold me
Baby, you ought to love me like a lover should
cause youre fine, and so kind
I tell this world that youre mine, mine, mine, mine
I love that you love cause I thought it was funny
You came along and you move me honey
I change my mind, this love is sure fine
Goodness gracious great balls of fire
Kiss me baby, ooh it feels good
Ooh hold me, hold me
You ought to love me like a lover should
cause youre fine and so kind
I tell the world that youre mine, mine, mine, mine
I chew my nails and I twiddle my thumbs
I sure am nervous
But Im sure havin fun
I change my mind, this love is sure fine
Goodness gracious great balls of fire
Yeah, yeah, yeah, oh, you broke my will, but what a thrill
Goodness gracious great balls of fire
You broke my will but I love you still
Goodness gracious great balls of fire
Goodness gracious great balls of fire

song performed by Dolly Parton
Added by Lucian Velea
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Out of Season

It's tragic!
And more sadistic it gets,
When a truth is left to sit...
To be decided by those most misfit.

It's tragic!
And more sadistic it gets,
When a truth is left to sit...
To be decided by those most misfit.

Integrity once had is not allowed.
Those made to feel a guilt,
Had walked so proud.
But now...
They're out of season.

It's tragic!
And more sadistic it gets,
When a truth is left to sit...
To be decided by those most misfit.

It's tragic!
And more sadistic it gets,
When a truth is left to sit...
To be decided by those most misfit.

Integrity once had is not allowed.
Those made to feel a guilt,
Had walked so proud.
But now...
They're out of season.

Integrity once had is not allowed.
Those made to feel a guilt,
Had walked so proud.
But now...
They're out of season.

Where is the truth and the goodness of the people.
Have they all gone out of season.
The goodness of the people.

Oh...
Where is the truth and the goodness of the people.
Have they all gone out of season.
The goodness of the people.
Oh...
Where is the truth and the goodness of the people.
Have they all gone out of season.
The goodness of the people.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Beauty Is Upon You

Beauty is upon you like the rose without a thorn.
Beauty is upon you like the dew on grass each morn.
Beauty is upon you like the sapphire shining sea.
Beauty is upon you like the apple on the tree.

Beauty is upon you like the sunshine on the Earth.
Beauty is upon you like the day God granted birth.
Beauty is upon you like the wings on butterflies.
Beauty is upon you like the grace that God supplies.

Beauty is upon you like the diamond wedding ring.
Beauty is upon you like the season known as Spring.
Beauty is upon you like the little lambs that play.
Beauty is upon you like the snow on Christmas Day.

Beauty is upon you like the rainbows up above.
Beauty is upon you like the sentimental dove.
Beauty is upon you like the young bird new to flight.
Beauty is upon you like the shooting stars each night.

Beauty is upon you like the dolphins as they leap.
Beauty is upon you like the peace that comes with sleep.
Beauty is upon you like ten thousand whispering sighs.
Beauty is upon you like true love that never dies...

Beauty is upon you like true love that never dies...
Beauty is upon you like true love that never dies...

Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2001.

poem by Denis Martindale
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Beauty Is Upon You

Beauty is upon you like the rose without a thorn.
Beauty is upon you like the dew on grass each morn.
Beauty is upon you like the sapphire shining sea.
Beauty is upon you like the apple on the tree.

Beauty is upon you like the sunshine on the Earth.
Beauty is upon you like the day God granted birth.
Beauty is upon you like the wings on butterflies.
Beauty is upon you like the grace that God supplies.

Beauty is upon you like the diamond wedding ring.
Beauty is upon you like the season known as Spring.
Beauty is upon you like the little lambs that play.
Beauty is upon you like the snow on Christmas Day.

Beauty is upon you like the rainbows up above.
Beauty is upon you like the sentimental dove.
Beauty is upon you like the young bird new to flight.
Beauty is upon you like the shooting stars each night.

Beauty is upon you like the dolphins as they leap.
Beauty is upon you like the peace that comes with sleep.
Beauty is upon you like ten thousand whispering sighs.
Beauty is upon you like true love that never dies...

Beauty is upon you like true love that never dies...
Beauty is upon you like true love that never dies...

poem by Denis Martindale
Added by Poetry Lover
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What a Beauty-Full Life

Beauty is in flowers, and the petals
Bathing in the early morning dew

Beauty is in the eyes of a father
When his son takes the first step

Beauty is on the face of a baby,
Sleeping in mother's lap

Beauty is in freedom,
When you fly high on the wings of hope

Beauty is in the expressions of a poor man
When he gets food after eternity

Beauty is in the pride of a teacher
When his student supersedes

Beauty is in the compassion of a devotee
When he finds solace

Beauty is in the innocence of a child
When he asks you questions

Beauty is in the sips of laughter,
You share with your friends

Beauty is in the springs of desire
that arrive after a prolonged autumn

Beauty is in the cry of a woman,
Whose womb succeeds

Beauty is in the silence,
When you don't speak, and you say a lot

Beauty is in the warmth of passion
That builds around the arms of a lover

Beauty is when those small fights,
End with tears of joy

Beauty is when the first raindrop,
Kisses your cheek

Beauty is in perseverance,
When the world's showing off

Beauty is in the enigma,
When everything's certain

[...] Read more

poem by Piyush Kaushal
Added by Poetry Lover
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Venus and Adonis

Even as the sun with purple-colour'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis tried him to the chase;
Hunting he lov'd, but love he laugh'd to scorn;
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-fac'd suitor 'gins to woo him.
'Thrice fairer than myself,' thus she began,
'The field's chief flower, sweet above compare,
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,
More white and red than doves or roses are;
Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.
'Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,
And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow;
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed
A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know:
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses;
And being set, I'll smother thee with kisses:
'And yet not cloy thy lips with loath'd satiety,
But rather famish them amid their plenty,
Making them red and pale with fresh variety;
Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:
A summer's day will seem an hour but short,
Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.'
With this she seizeth on his sweating palm,
The precedent of pith and livelihood,
And, trembling in her passion, calls it balm,
Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good:
Being so enrag'd, desire doth lend her force
Courageously to pluck him from his horse.
Over one arm the lusty courser's rein
Under her other was the tender boy,
Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain,
With leaden appetite, unapt to toy;
She red and hot as coals of glowing fire
He red for shame, but frosty in desire.
The studded bridle on a ragged bough
Nimbly she fastens;--O! how quick is love:--
The steed is stalled up, and even now
To tie the rider she begins to prove:
Backward she push'd him, as she would be thrust,
And govern'd him in strength, though not in lust.
So soon was she along, as he was down,
Each leaning on their elbows and their hips:
Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown,
And 'gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips;
And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken,
'If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.'
He burns with bashful shame; she with her tears
Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks;

[...] Read more

poem by William Shakespeare (1593)
Added by Dan Costinaş
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Venus and Adonis

'Vilia miretur vulgus; mihi flavus Apollo
Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua.'

To the right honorable Henry Wriothesly, Earl of Southampton, and Baron of Tichfield.
Right honorable.

I know not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to your lordship, nor how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burden only, if your honour seem but pleased, I account myself highly praised, and vow to take advantage of all idle hours, till I have honoured you with some graver labour. But if the first heir of my invention prove deformed, I shall be sorry it had so noble a god-father, and never after ear so barren a land, for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest. I leave it to your honourable survey, and your honour to your heart's content; which I wish may always answer your own wish and the world's hopeful expectation.

Your honour's in all duty.

Even as the sun with purple-colour'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase;
Hunting he loved, but love he laugh'd to scorn;
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-faced suitor 'gins to woo him.
'Thrice-fairer than myself,' thus she began,
'The field's chief flower, sweet above compare,
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,
More white and red than doves or roses are;
Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.
'Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,
And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow;
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed
A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know:
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses,
And being set, I'll smother thee with kisses;
'And yet not cloy thy lips with loathed satiety,
But rather famish them amid their plenty,
Making them red and pale with fresh variety,
Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:
A summer's day will seem an hour but short,
Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.'
With this she seizeth on his sweating palm,
The precedent of pith and livelihood,
And trembling in her passion, calls it balm,
Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good:
Being so enraged, desire doth lend her force
Courageously to pluck him from his horse.
Over one arm the lusty courser's rein,
Under her other was the tender boy,
Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain,
With leaden appetite, unapt to toy;
She red and hot as coals of glowing fire,
He red for shame, but frosty in desire.
The studded bridle on a ragged bough
Nimbly she fastens:--O, how quick is love!--
The steed is stalled up, and even now
To tie the rider she begins to prove:

[...] Read more

poem by William Shakespeare
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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