The Greatest Poems

noreply@blogger.com (CerebralCrap) — Fri, 30 May 2008 04:41:00 +0000

Can you see me,
Through your rose-tinted glasses?
You gaze at the world around you,
as it lays burning, dying.
And all you can do is smile.

Can you see me
Through your own eyes?
Do you view the world as yourself,
Or do you follow the latest trend?

Can you see me
In what you call the light?
Are you sure you are walking in the twilight path,
Instead of crawling on the dark road upon you?

Can you see me
With an open heart, and an open mind?
Can you see a person
Without placing them in a steriotypical cage?

Can you see me,
Someone who is not perfect?
Someone who does not fit into the mold that society worships,
Someone who walks to a different tune?

Can you see me?
I doubt that I can even see myself.

I Love YOU!

noreply@blogger.com (CerebralCrap) — Thu, 29 May 2008 04:39:00 +0000

I tell you I love you,
then you ask me, "why?"
I tell you, "just because I do,"
and all you do is... sigh.

If I knew the words to say,
you would have the answers now.
I just can't seem to find them,
I only wish I knew how.

I worry that you think I lie,
and it will break us in two.
But all I can do is promise that,
baby... I Love You!

I fell in love with you

noreply@blogger.com (CerebralCrap) — Wed, 28 May 2008 04:36:00 +0000

There are no words I could speak
To detail the adoration I feel for you
There is no way I could ever seek
For something as powerful and true.
I live for your smile
I dream for your kiss
When I am with you
It is pure bliss
One look at your face
Gets me weak in the knees
Don't say goodbye
I beg of you please
You are my life
You brighten my world
I feel so special
Being your girl
So hold me tight
don't ever let go
There's just one thing
I think you should know
With one look in your eyes
I knew it was true
With one touch of your hand
I fell in love with you

THE SOUND OF THE SEA

noreply@blogger.com (CerebralCrap) — Tue, 27 May 2008 04:32:00 +0000

The sea awoke at midnight from its sleep,
And round the pebbly beaches far and wide
I heard the first wave of the rising tide
Rush onward with uninterrupted sweep;
A voice out of the silence of the deep,
A sound mysteriously multiplied
As of a cataract from the mountain's side,
Or roar of winds upon a wooded steep.
So comes to us at times, from the unknown
And inaccessible solitudes of being,
The rushing of the sea-tides of the soul;
And inspirations, that we deem our own,
Are some divine foreshadowing and foreseeing
Of things beyond our reason or control.

Alone in Darkness

noreply@blogger.com (CerebralCrap) — Mon, 26 May 2008 04:27:00 +0000

The night falls in a heavy, suffocating cloak, cold and alone are we.
The salvation for which you lust
flares once, then dies,
devoured by your obsession.
All hope must surely perish.

Your passion throbs no more.
How could you fail to believe?
Angels surround us, crying,
we have lost our light.

Mr. Wrong

noreply@blogger.com (CerebralCrap) — Sun, 25 May 2008 04:26:00 +0000

I was fine before you walked into my life
Funny how now I only want to talk to you with a knife
You're my past and that's where you belong
Cause you, in fact, were Mr. Wrong
You tried to make me happy but you didn't
All I did was keep my misery hidden
I tried to please you
But you walked on me, like a mat with a shoe
I tried to change
But inside it felt strange
That's okay cause you're my past
And you're my last
I'm done with being sad
Done with being bad
I found somebody great
It must have been fate
He lives so close to me
I don't know how I couldn't see
That love was right around the bend
And all my honour he would defend
I loved you back then
Now I know what's real, amen
You were Mr. Wrong and now I have Mr. Right
His love is so bright
He is my everything, my all
And will never let me fall
I love him so
And I'll never ever let him go.

The galaxy - H.W.Longfellow

noreply@blogger.com (CerebralCrap) — Fri, 23 May 2008 19:20:00 +0000

Torrent of light and river of the air,

Along whose bed the glimmering stars are seen

Like gold and silver sands in someravine

Where mountain streams have left their channels bare!

The Spaniard sees in thee the pathway, where

His patron saint descended in the sheen

Of his celestial armor, on serene

And quiet nights, when all the heavens were fair.

Not this I see, nor yet the ancient fable

Of Phaeton's wild course, that scorched the skies

Where'er the hoofs of his hot coursers trod;

But the white drift of worlds o'er chasms of sable,

The star-dust that is whirled aloft and flies

From the invisible chariot-wheels of God.

REVISITING BRUNSWICK - PARKER CLEAVELAND

noreply@blogger.com (CerebralCrap) — Thu, 22 May 2008 19:18:00 +0000

Among the many lives that I have known,
None I remember more serene and sweet,
More rounded in itself and more complete,
Than his, who lies beneath this funeral stone.
These pines, that murmur in low monotone,
These walks frequented by scholastic feet,
Were all his world; but in this calm retreat
For him the Teacher's chair became a throne.
With fond affection memory loves to dwell
On the old days, when his example made
A pastime of the toil of tongue and pen;
And now, amid the groves he loved so well
That naught could lure him from their grateful shade,
He sleeps, but wakes elsewhere, for God hath said, Amen!

Endymion - Keats

noreply@blogger.com (CerebralCrap) — Wed, 21 May 2008 19:16:00 +0000

The young Endymion sleeps Endymion's sleep;
The shepherd-boy whose tale was left half told!
The solemn grove uplifts its shield of gold
To the red rising moon, and loud and deep
The nightingale is singing from the steep;
It is midsummer, but the air is cold;
Can it be death? Alas, beside the fold
A shepherd's pipe lies shattered near his sheep.
Lo! in the moonlight gleams a marble white,
On which I read: "Here lieth one whose name
Was writ in water." And was this the meed
Of his sweet singing? Rather let me write:
"The smoking flax before it burst to flame
Was quenched by death, and broken the bruised reed."

Melodious seas - MILTON

noreply@blogger.com (CerebralCrap) — Wed, 21 May 2008 19:14:00 +0000

I pace the sounding sea-beach and behold
How the voluminous billows roll and run,
Upheaving and subsiding, while the sun
Shines through their sheeted emerald far unrolled,
And the ninth wave, slow gathering fold by fold
All its loose-flowing garments into one,
Plunges upon the shore, and floods the dun
Pale reach of sands, and changes them to gold.
So in majestic cadence rise and fall
The mighty undulations of thy song,
O sightless bard, England's Maeonides!
And ever and anon, high over all
Uplifted, a ninth wave superb and strong,
Floods all the soul with its melodious seas.

The chamber walls - CHAUCER

noreply@blogger.com (CerebralCrap) — Wed, 21 May 2008 19:11:00 +0000

An old man in a lodge within a park;
The chamber walls depicted all around
With portraitures of huntsman, hawk, and hound.
And the hurt deer. He listeneth to the lark,
Whose song comes with the sunshine through the dark
Of painted glass in leaden lattice bound;
He listeneth and he laugheth at the sound,
Then writeth in a book like any clerk.
He is the poet of the dawn, who wrote
The Canterbury Tales, and his old age
Made beautiful with song; and as I read
I hear the crowing cock, I hear the note
Of lark and linnet, and from every page
Rise odors of ploughed field or flowery mead.

Crowded city streets - SHAKESPEARE

noreply@blogger.com (CerebralCrap) — Wed, 21 May 2008 19:08:00 +0000

A vision as of crowded city streets,
With human life in endless overflow;
Thunder of thoroughfares; trumpets that blow
To battle; clamor, in obscure retreats,
Of sailors landed from their anchored fleets;
Tolling of bells in turrets, and below
Voices of children, and bright flowers that throw
O'er garden-walls their intermingled sweets!
This vision comes to me when I unfold
The volume of the Poet paramount,
Whom all the Muses loved, not one alone;--
Into his hands they put the lyre of gold,
And, crowned with sacred laurel at their fount,
Placed him as Musagetes on their throne.

AN APRIL DAY - H.W.Longfellow

noreply@blogger.com (CerebralCrap) — Wed, 21 May 2008 19:02:00 +0000

When the warm sun, that brings
Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,
'T is sweet to visit the still wood, where springs
The first flower of the plain.

I love the season well,
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
The coming-on of storms.

From the earth's loosened mould
The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives;
Though stricken to the heart with winter's cold,
The drooping tree revives.

The softly-warbled song
Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings
Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along
The forest openings.

When the bright sunset fills
The silver woods with light,
the green slope throwsIts shadows in the hollows of the hills,
And wide the upland glows.

And when the eve is born,
In the blue lake the sky, o'er-reaching far,
Is hollowed out and the moon dips her horn,
And twinkles many a star.

Inverted in the tideStand the gray rocks,
and trembling shadows throw,
And the fair trees look over, side by side,
And see themselves below.

Sweet April! many a thought
Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed;
Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought,
Life's golden fruit is shed.