Quotes about violet, page 4
0024 There is here; outside, inside
My wrist rests on the desk’s raised edge;
fingers splayed on black and silver ‘mouse’ –
(did anyone tell those focussed scurriers underfoot,
they had a new relation?)
And the whole world of mind
from whatever there may be to know
of the divine and universal things,
law behind laws, love beyond loves
awaits, out there, awaits, in here
to meet these touching fingers, hesitating on the mouse
as if holding some real, passive pet
that yearns to know the world…
I still can taste the breakfast marmalade,
sweet but sharp; it is enough;
but in a few hours’ time
the whole world will be tempting me with taste.
Warm in a hoodie; the radiators have woken with a faint vibration
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poem by Michael Shepherd
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Paradise Found
I am lost inside
A world of my own,
A world that I painted inside of my thoughts
Within a figment of my imagination-
I have taken myself on a journey to a place
I call paradise-
Inside this place I call paradise
I am lost,
Inside this place I call paradise,
I am alone-
Surrounded by trees and mountains,
Violet in hue – wildflowers would grow and
Grass grows high, caressing my ankles
In an almost loving way-
Inside the world of my thoughts
I step inside this paradise I have found and as I
Lose myself within a dream,
In less than a moment’s time,
My imagination has succumbed
To this magical land of my delusions-
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poem by Claudia Krizay
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Clover-Blossom
In a quiet, pleasant meadow,
Beneath a summer sky,
Where green old trees their branches waved,
And winds went singing by;
Where a little brook went rippling
So musically low,
And passing clouds cast shadows
On the waving grass below;
Where low, sweet notes of brooding birds
Stole out on the fragrant air,
And golden sunlight shone undimmed
On all most fresh and fair;--
There bloomed a lovely sisterhood
Of happy little flowers,
Together in this pleasant home,
Through quiet summer hours.
No rude hand came to gather them,
No chilling winds to blight;
Warm sunbeams smiled on them by day,
And soft dews fell at night.
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poem by Louisa May Alcott
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Violet
And the sky was made of amethyst
And all the stars look just like little fish
You should learn when to go
You should learn how to say no
Might last a day yeah
Mine is forever
Might last a day, yeah
Well mine is forever
When they get what they want they never want it again
When they get what they want they never want it again
Go on, take everything, take everything I want you to
Go on, take everything take everything take everything I want you to
And the sky was all violet I want it again, but more violet, more violet
Hey, Im the one with no soul
One above and one below
Go on, take everything take everything I want you to
Go on, take everything take everything I want you to
I told you from the start just how this would end
When I get what I want I never want it again
Go on, take everything take everyting I want you to
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song performed by Hole
Added by Lucian Velea
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Passing Friend
Well theres nothing worse than a passing friend
Who will die on you till the bitter end
Theres nothing worse than a burning heart
Or a past that tears the world apart
Ive been thinking about my situation
Nothing ventured nothing left to lose
When its easier to just say nothing
I had thought about what I might lose
But through the childs eyes
There were feelings
Touching my violet skin
When the love games start appealing
You better get out and move on in
cause theres nothing worse than a passing friend
Or a pioneer of a dying trend
Nothing worse than a silent ghost
Or to lose your head at the starting post
Aint it always just a short vacation
When its love it always has an end
Under the sheets of life its just frustation
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song performed by Beach Boys
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Athens: An Ode
ERE from under earth again like fire the violet kindle, [Str. I.
Ere the holy buds and hoar on olive-branches bloom,
Ere the crescent of the last pale month of winter dwindle,
Shrink, and fall as falls a dead leaf on the dead month’s tomb,
Round the hills whose heights the first-born olive-blossom brightened,
Round the city brow-bound once with violets like a bride,
Up from under earth again a light that long since lightened
Breaks, whence all the world took comfort as all time takes pride.
Pride have all men in their fathers that were free before them,
In the warriors that begat us free-born pride have we:
But the fathers of their spirits, how may men adore them,
With what rapture may we praise, who bade our souls be free?
Sons of Athens born in spirit and truth are all born free men;
Most of all, we, nurtured where the north wind holds his reign:
Children all we sea-folk of the Salaminian seamen,
Sons of them that beat back Persia they that beat back Spain.
Since the songs of Greece fell silent, none like ours have risen;
Since the sails of Greece fell slack, no ships have sailed like ours;
How should we lament not, if her spirit sit in prison?
How should we rejoice not, if her wreaths renew their flowers?
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poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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The Troubadour. Canto 1
CALL to mind your loveliest dream,--
When your sleep is lull'd by a mountain stream,
When your pillow is made of the violet,
And over your head the branches are met
Of a lime-tree cover'd with bloom and bees,
When the roses' breath is on the breeze,
When odours and light on your eyelids press
With summer's delicious idleness;
And upon you some shadowy likeness may glance
Of the faery banks of the bright Durance;
Just where at first its current flows
'Mid willows and its own white rose,--
Its clear and early tide, or ere
A shade, save trees, its waters bear.
The sun, like an Indian king, has left
To that fair river a royal gift
Of gold and purple; no longer shines
His broad red disk o'er that forest of pines
Sweeping beneath the burning sky
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poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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Modern Love
I
By this he knew she wept with waking eyes:
That, at his hand's light quiver by her head,
The strange low sobs that shook their common bed
Were called into her with a sharp surprise,
And strangled mute, like little gaping snakes,
Dreadfully venomous to him. She lay
Stone-still, and the long darkness flowed away
With muffled pulses. Then, as midnight makes
Her giant heart of Memory and Tears
Drink the pale drug of silence, and so beat
Sleep's heavy measure, they from head to feet
Were moveless, looking through their dead black years,
By vain regret scrawled over the blank wall.
Like sculptured effigies they might be seen
Upon their marriage-tomb, the sword between;
Each wishing for the sword that severs all.
II
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poem by George Meredith
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Purple Violet
Purple violet
You live in my garden
Druring the summer months
And that girl
That lives next door
Is wearing a purple violet dress today
so that she can go to school in style
Like the rest of the other kids
But one thing that I have noticed
Is that she is not as rich like the other kids
In her school
poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Mauve Basket
Purple like a tulip in a spring field. Swaying calmly with the wind, under a violet sky, beckoning you to come closer, and closer. A Mauve Basket coming closer and closer.
Then a hand picks the plum flower, covering the tulip with warmth, and whispering it's secrets to it.
The flower looks back at it's past home, a wild violet field, waiting to get placed in the purple pocket, but instead finds a new home, in the Mauve Basket.
poem by Vindya Pon
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