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Sonnet 23

XXIII

Methought I saw my late espoused saint
Brought to me, like Alcestis, from the grave,
Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave,
Rescued from death by force, though pale and faint.
Mine, as whom washed from spot of child-bed taint
Purification in the Old Law did save,
And such, as yet once more I trust to have
Full sight of her in Heav'n without restraint,
Came vested all in white, pure as her mind:
Her face was veiled, yet to my fancied sight
Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shined
So clear, as in no face with more delight.
But O, as to embrace me she inclined,
I waked, she fled, and day brought back my night.

poem by John Milton
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Julie's Unconnected

She sits in a daze.
Out into space she stares.
Julie’s unconnected.

She was not always this way.
She was once full of life, and joy.
But now a days Julie’s unconnected.

I wish I knew what happened to my friend.
I wish I knew why the light in her eyes that once
shined so bright is now so dim.
I wish I knew why Julie’s unconnected.

The doctors have no real answers.
So they just fill her up with pills.
They say that she’ll one day connect again.
I hope they’re right because I miss Julie’s light.
Well, I’ll sit with her and talk to her until she comes
back. Because that’s what a real friend does.
Julie’s unconnected.

poem by Lore Me34
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Adulterous

As innocent as buds of jasmine
twilight of a falling night
offsets the nakedness of a baby moon,
the subterfuge of a slant lie.
How crooked was the conviction?

Blessing was flawless. Only the sky
had an anguished exoneration
for a particular sin.
What was put out for a show
was hired.

He did not want to become a spot,
a speck, or an insect. The ending
of lonliness had a high price. Give
and take were insufficient. Only giving
was a gift. Duality of ugliness shined in the mirror.

In despair he picked up the replica
of a humanoid ancestor,

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poem by Satish Verma
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The true God is the unknown God to the natural man and also the unknowable God without His revelation in Christ. God is not only invisible to man's sight , but also to man's senses. In Christ is found a God who is near, who hears, who cares, who loves, and who saves. 'For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ' (2 Cor. 46) 'All things are delievered unto me of my Father and no man knoweth the Son, but the Father neither knoweth any man the Father, save the son, and he to whomsoever the Son will reveal him' (Matt. 1127).

quote by Eugene Reuweler
Added by Lucian Velea
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Grandma Kay’s 95th Birthday

Grandma Kay just turned ninety five,
on her birthday in 2009.
In her nursing home her family was there,
Watching her blew out birthday candle without a care.
She was the star of her birthday show,
She blew out a candle that sparkled and glowed.
Friends and family sang along,
to her personalized birthday song.
Her son Russ played the guitar,
this was her best birthday by far.
She unwrapped presents from family and friends,
she was very happy like a child again.
Photo memories are snapped in time,
To remember Kay’s 95th Birthday that shined.

Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 9,2011
www.christinasunrise.com www.suzaechevalier.com

poem by Christina Sunrise
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Sonnet VIII

MOre then most faire, full of the liuing fire,
Kindled aboue vnto the maker neere:
no eies buy ioyes, in which al powers conspire,
that to the world naught else be counted deare.
Thrugh your bright beams doth not ye blinded guest,
shoot out his darts to base affections wound:
but Angels come to lead fraile mindes to rest
in chast desires on heauenly beauty bound.
You frame my thoughts and fashion me within,
you stop my toung, and teach my hart to speake,
you calme the storme that passion did begin,
stro[n]g thrugh your cause, but by your vertue weak.
Dark is the world, where your light shined neuer;
well is he borne, that may behold you euer.

poem by Edmund Spenser
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Washed my Feet

Mmmm I know to most this may not seem like much but last night my man washed my feet. He took the sponge and dipped in the water then he held over my feet and let the warm water dripped down on. Woo it felt so good. He then lathered up his big strong hands with soap and began massaging my feet. It felt like ecstasy. Now, he was done with his soap massage he once again wet them with the sponge and when he was done my feet shined like two new pennies. He then dried them and girl that man of mine finished by giving my feet a kiss. I know my man loved me because last night he washed my feet.

Note: This is fictional I wrote this from a woman's point of view.

poem by Lore Me34
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Fear -A gloom

Fear is not anywhere behind mankind,
For remember it is in our own mind.

It could be removed if we make-up our mind,
Then none can impede us to be shined.

Fear is the lane of dark where nothing seemed apparent,
Except abortive and the breeze errant.

Fear is the blemish that could spoil the long life tribute,
Is it so effortless and painless to recon tribute?

Certainly not fear when you aren’t erroneous,
Just one step forgetting the fear may lead u to be victorious.

Fear is just a gloom that covers your talent
And it is profitless to view yourself a gallant

To confiscate the fear, make-up you mind,
Feel triumphant leaving the weakness behind.

poem by Ameera Aidrus
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French

(Dedicated to Victor French who died of cancer on June 15,1989)

You starred on Highway to heaven, Carter country and even on Little house on the prairie.
It's sad to know that you are dead and buried.
One moment everything seemed to be fine.
But then we lost you in June of 1989.

Sometimes you had a beard and other times you only had a mustache.
You made a great contribution to TV in the past.
You had a career that shined bright.
But you died at fifty-four and that wasn't right.

When you guest starred on Gunsmoke, you played the bad guy.
People cared about you and hated to see you die.
When you played as the heavy, you never flinched.
Rest in peace, Victor French.

poem by Randy Johnson
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Mardi Grass New Orleans

Driving down highway 95,
going to New Orleans before night.
It was too late,
we went the wrong way,
we were heading east to Savanah that day.
In town we finally did arrive,
at least it wasn’t in the morning at five.
Next morning I went to downtown,
beads where being thrown all around.
Children threw me beads my way
they sparkled and shined I have to say.
Brought them back to MN state,
children I played with said they were great.
Some kept them hidden from me,
that’s o.k. they have found memories.
Now I have to visit once again,
get more beads to send to friends.

Written By Suzae Chevalier on November 3,2011
www.purplepoems.com www.christinapoems.com

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poem by Christina Sunrise
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