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Many a finer thing

Many a finer thing
~
Love is many a finer thing
than a poem could hope to achieve
but a poem is writ nether the less
to pay an ode of tribute to love
to pay it thanks and support
in the hope it lasts a lifetime
to express its beauty unrivalled
by any creation of the hand
what moves a heart in such a way
or plays the mind into such thought
love is many a finer thing
that odes and songs are sung
in the dedication of its name
love name it as it stands
to feel its touch of grace
love is many a finer thing
than a poem could hope to achieve

poem by Matthew Holloway
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Sky

You are a kaleidoscopic drama
A gusty platform for celestial revelation
Dotted soars are your closest audience
Scudding clouds are the opening curtains
Roaring pour is your musical orchestra
Solar to lunar, shiny to Selene
Scenario, persona..astounding, incredible
Applause.
But..
Beyond your spherical width what?
Black nether yard of vast darkness
You've drawn your blinds over there
Sun is mindless to let even a speck
Departed souls are wandering aghast
Your nocturnal mischief is thundering in silence
From here you're a majestical roof
But why mystical, magical otherwise?

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Are you familiar with the 'Nana Nap'?

Are you familiar with, the Nana Nap?
Have you yourself fell victim to its pull?
The head bobs down, tho' not quite to your lap
as conversation changes to your drool.

These senior moments when the lights go out
and dentures dangle from the pink abyss.
The REMs confirm, there is no doubt
and from the nether regions, there's a hiss.

And all this happens unexpectedly
when you pretend to listen with intent.
As consciousness returns, it's plain to see
you're thinking 'Shit! I wonder what they meant! ! '

With confidence you combat the surprise...
'Och no dear, I was just resting my eyes'.

poem by Hola Mentirosa
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In the Reading-Room of the British Museum

Praised be the moon of books! that doth above
A world of men, the fallen Past behold,
And fill the spaces else so void and cold
To make a very heaven again thereof;
As when the sun is set behind a grove,
And faintly unto nether ether rolled,
All night his whiter image and his mould
Grows beautiful with looking on her love.

Thou therefore, moon of so divine a ray,
Lend to our steps both fortitude and light!
Feebly along a venerable way
They climb the infinite, or perish quite;
Nothing are days and deeds to such as they,
While in this liberal house thy face is bright.

poem by Louise Imogen Guiney
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The Gallery

I fell in love in the gallery
where every painting
had a story still to tell
the portraits of nature
every hue of wild beauty
caught my soul breathless
I wandered through worlds
those places of such scenery
which caught, held my eye
I imagined the feel of the air
the scent which filled each picture
touching my skin, filling my nose
my eyes wide open feasted upon
such beauty the likes of which
I had hardly every seen
nether less thought to imagine
I walked almost listless
in no hurry to leave this place
I fell in love in the gallery
where portraits of nature

[...] Read more

poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Dreamer

Temples he built and palaces of air,
And, with the artist's parent-pride aglow,
His fancy saw his vague ideals grow
Into creations marvellously fair;

He set his foot upon Fame's nether stair.
But ah, his dream,--it had entranced him so
He could not move. He could no farther go;
But paused in joy that he was even there!

He did not wake until one day there gleamed
Thro' his dark consciousness a light that racked
His being till he rose, alert to act.
But lo! what he had dreamed, the while he dreamed,
Another, wedding action unto thought,
Into the living, pulsing world had brought.

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Sonnet XLIII

SHall I then silent be or shall I speake?
And if I speake, her wrath renew I shall:
and if I silent be, my hart will breake,
or choked be with ouerflowing gall.
What tyranny is this both my hart to thrall,
and eke my toung with proud restraint to tie?
that nether I may speake nor thinke at all,
but like a stupid stock in silence die.
Yet I my hart with silence secretly
will teach to speak, and my iust cause to plead:
and eke mine eies with meeke humility,
loue learned letters to her eyes to read.
Which her deep wit, that true harts thought can spel,
wil soone conceiue, and learne to construe well.

poem by Edmund Spenser
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The Pangs That Guard The Gates Of Joy

THE PANGS that guard the gates of joy,
the naked sword that will be kist,
how distant seem’d they to the boy,
white flashes in the rosy mist!

Ah, not where tender play was screen’d
in the light heart of leafy mirth
of that obdurate might we ween’d
that shakes the sure repose of earth.

And sudden, ’twixt a sun and sun,
the veil of dreaming is withdrawn:
lo, our disrupt dominion
and mountains solemn in the dawn;

hard paths that chase the dayspring’s white,
and glooms that hold the nether heat:
oh, strange the world upheaved from night,
oh, dread the life before our feet!

poem by Christopher John Brennan
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Earth

This bit of Earth that we live upon
A bit of the above sun-borne
Whence lightning thunders explode and warn
The fall of rains to flow in floods to scorn
Then in silence green and amber to flourish upon..

This bit of Earth that we live upon
Of all religions and rituals homes've where grown
Upon whose hope peace is in sown
On which flora is to thick blossom prone
Whereto the faunae rush to dwell upon

This bit of Earth that we live upon
Moulded of water and mud alone
Then baked in wind by fire alone
Filled with vales and craters of nature alone
Armageddon on Nether-land where we're still upon

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Sleep IIII

What shall I tell you about my lover, Sleep?
Sometimes the dews and the dawnlight
Find me with her still, possessive, I
Like a slain bird beneath her cat's paw.
Reluctantly, she says she must go. I say 'No',
And cling to her, but she purposely shakes herself free,
Leeps to the sill, and swathed in it's glow
Faces the new-risen sun. The
Diamond in her ear sparkles a little sec.
She nods farewell and momentarily I see, again,
The deep cleft in her chin. Spreading her wings
She sails to the nether-side of the world
For she loathes the depicting light-perversity
Of Beauty that cannot bear to be seen.

poem by Morgan Michaels
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