Quotes about hover, page 17
When my soul loves your heart.....
I have your heart within me
that keeps telling me love story every night
God has given us love as the best medicine
to purify our hearts and soul with affections
When your heart and my soul touch each other
then there is no room for sadness
When my eyes close for sleep
then my soul awakes and kisses your heart
When your heart plays music with my soul
then the melodies hover like nightingales
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poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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I Waste My Days
In the half-twilight of my empty year
Where I crouch, hemmed in
By an avalanche of days,
I hear the trees murmur
In some long, sad fatigue,
While birds land, hover…
And break their journeys.
My life has bunched its folds,
They gather at my feet,
As clouds, grey, scud across each enterprise;
Behind my eyes are glimpses of
Lost days, more sure and wise,
While love lies, mocking me,
And each year cries…
The clock ticks relentlessly,
The dead leaves fall,
My lost friends walk at my horizon,
The things I found familiar
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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Sonnet
In early youth, blithe Spring's exulting day,
Each hour put forth new raptures to my view;
Each sunny morn on downy pinions flew,
And swift the jocund minutes danc'd away!
Ere Summer's breath matur'd my ripening mind,
I found the blissful scene begin to fade;
Cold sorrow hover'd round with wings unkind,
And o'er my bosom spread a dreary shade;
An early Winter chills my glowing breast,
Frost-nipp'd too soon my fondest hopes decay;
My cheek no more with rosy graces bless'd,
Smiles with the freshness of returning May;
So freezing gales in sunny splendours drest,
Fade the young blossoms of the infant spray.
poem by Mary Darby Robinson
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Sonnet XXIX: Farewell, Ye Tow'ring Cedars
Farewell, ye tow'ring Cedars, in whose shade,
Lull'd by the Nightingale, I sunk to rest,
While spicy breezes hover'd o'er my breast
To fan my cheek, in deep'ning tints array'd;
While am'rous insects, humming round me, play'd,
Each flow'r forsook, of prouder sweets in quest;
Of glowing lips, in humid fragrance drest,
That mock'd the Sunny Hybla's vaunted aid!
Farewell, ye limpid rivers! Oh! farewell!
No more shall Sappho to your grots repair;
No more your white waves to her bosom swell,
Or your dank weeds, entwine her floating hair;
As erst, when Venus in her sparry cell
Wept, to behold a brighter goddess there!
poem by Mary Darby Robinson
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I Think Of You...
I think of you
and I feel the scent of my mother
my mother, the most beautiful of all.
You are on the carousel of the festival inside me
you hover around, your skirt and your hair flying
Mere seconds between finding your beautiful face and losing it.
What is the reason,
why do I remember you like a wound on my heart
what is the reason that I hear your voice when you are so far
and I can't help getting up with excitement?
I kneel down and look at your hands
I want to touch your hands
but I can't
you are behind a glass.
Sweetheart, I am a bewildered spectator of the drama
that I am playing in my twilight.
poem by Nazim Hikmet
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Stay shadow of contentment
Stay shadow of contentment too short live
Hover over my head float not your image
Fly not your inducing divinity
An illusion of enhancement I mostly prize
Fair image for whom I happily die
Sweet action for whom painfully I live
If to your charms attraction I submit
Obedient like steel to magnet fly
By what logic you flatter and entice
Only to flee a taunting fugitive
This is no triumph that you smugly boast
That I feel victim to your tyranny
Though from encircling bonds that held you fast
Your elusive form too readily slipped free
And though to my arms you are forever lost
You are eternal prisoner in my fantasy
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poem by Isaac Ziv
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Nacogdoches Speaks
I was The Gateway. Here they came, and passed,
The homespun centaurs with their arms of steel
And taut heart-strings: wild wills, who thought to deal
Bare-handed with jade Fortune, tracked at last
Out of her silken lairs into the vast
Of a Man’s world. They passed, but still I feel
The dint of hoof, the print of booted heel,
Like prick of spurs--the shadows that they cast.
I do not vaunt their valors, or their crimes:
I tell my secrets only to some lover,
Some taster of spilled wine and scattered musk.
But I have not forgotten; and sometimes,
The things that I remember rise, and hover.
A sharper perfume in some April dusk.
poem by Karle Wilson Baker
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The Passing Year
No breath of wind stirs in the painted leaves,
The meadows are as stirless as the sky,
Like a Saint's halo golden vapours lie
Above the restful valley's garnered sheaves.
The journeying Sun, like one who fondly grieves,
Above the hills seems loitering with a sigh,
As loth to bid the fruitful earth good-bye,
On these hushed hours of luminous autumn eves.
There is a pathos in his softening glow,
Which like a benediction seems to hover
O'er the tranced earth, ere he must sink below
And leave her widowed of her radiant Lover,
A frost-bound sleeper in a shroud of snow,
While winter winds howl a wild dirge above her.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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Sometimes
Sometimes,
I don’t know how,
I hover over
The Tropic of Capricorn,
Riding on a cirrus
Wispy, white and torn,
Looking at the azure sea
Below.
Sometimes,
I don’t know why,
I am suddenly
At the Arno in Florence,
Listening to Dante’s
Sweet verse at the fence,
While Beatrice is flitting, pure
And shy.
And sometimes,
I don’t know what
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poem by Paul Hartal
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Traditional Panorama
cows spotted thick
skins grazing on the green
field with golden rays of
sunshine
early morning
birds flying hovering
on tree branches
fences, and boundaries
cottage of a farmer
blue clouds now starting
to hover in place
a girl singing butterflies
mother milking the cows
and father beginning
to plow the corn field
no plane above the skies
no rockets
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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