| Sonnet 138 by William Shakespeare
When my love swears that she is made of truth
I do believe her though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutored youth
Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue;
On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust,
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O, love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not to have years told.
Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flattered be.
What Is True Love by Karren
What is true love
Is there ever any true love
Or is it only a dream
So close yet so far away
Some can touch it
Others can only watch it
What is true love
Is it real
Or is it only a figment of our imagination
Is there any love left in the world for me
I think not
Or is there...
The Power of an Ocean's Strenght by Fran Brown
In the mist of the oceans waves, I feel the energy
Listening to the waves, I sence the power of sensitivity
As I walk & hear the oceans secrets, I feel the warmth of the breeze upon my skin
And I begin to feel something deep within
Something never felt by anyone , before me
All I sence is the power of strength & gravity
And feel & see the beauty this ocean has to offer me
Kathy by GOD!
Although I have never met you,
I know you are a wonderful person,
I feel you are a caring, understanding,
Giving, and very loving human being
Although I have never met you,
You’ve given me the most precious,
Thing in my life,
My loving friends whom I cherish every day.
Although I have never met you,
You’ve given me a large heart,
Too spread out too the world.
And spread my wisdom to all
Although I have never met you,
You seem so real too me,
You’ve touched my heart more than you will ever know
And God I love you with every inch of my soul.
Although I have never met you,
You have given me a loving family,
Although I have never met you,
I want to Thanks you for making me who I am.
Thank you God.
|
From The Prelude to the Lyrical Ballads
by William Wordsworth
As the black storm upon the mountain top
Sets off the sunbeam in the valley, so
That huge fermenting mass of humankind
Serves as a solemn background, or relief,
To single forms and objects, whence they draw,
For feeling and contemplative regard,
More than inherent liveliness and power.
How oft, amid those overflowing streets,
Have I gone forward with the crowd, and said
Unto myself, `The face of every one
That passes by me is a mystery!'
Thus have I looked, nor ceased to look, oppress
By thoughts of what and whither, when and how,
Until the shapes before my eyes became
A second-sight procession, such as glides
Over still mountains, or appears in dreams;
And once, far-travelled in such mood, beyond
The reach of common indication, lost
Amid the moving pageant, I was smitten
Abruptly, with the view (a sight not rare)
Of a blind Beggar, who, with upright face,
Stood, propped against a wall, upon his chest
Wearing a written paper, to explain
His story, whence he came, and who he was.
Caught by the spectacle my mind turned round
As with the might of waters; an apt type
This label seemed of the utmost we can know,
Both of ourselves and of the universe;
And, on the shape of that unmoving man,
His fixed face and sightless eyes, I looked,
As if admonished from another world.
The Girl In The Mirror by Karren
This is the girl in the mirror
Who is this girl i look at
She has a tear stained face
Her eyes can be blue,grey,green or mixed
Her teeth r all crooked
Her face white with rosy red cheeks and lots
of freakles
Who is she all dreassed up and nowhere to
go
She wears a long velvet dress of blue/black
She wears make up to hide the freakles.to
hide Who she realy is
Hide those rosy cheeks
To hide the weakling she realy is
She daydreams of what she should have done
Which she has not done
She dreams to much this girl its about time
someone
Woke her up and say get over it if u dont
act Nothing will happen
Then i realise that the girl i write of is
me and noone
Will wake me up and my life must be as it
is
Because dreams ´are only dreams and
nothing more
|
Untitled by Emily Dickinson
To die--takes just a little while--
They say it doesn't hurt--
It's only fainter--by degrees--
And then--it's out of sight--
A darker Ribbon--for a Day--
A Crape upon the Hat--
And then the pretty sunshine comes--
And helps us to forget--
The absent--mystic--creature--
That but for love of us--
Had gone to sleep--that soundest time--
Without the weariness--
The New Jerusalem by William Blake
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic Mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my charriot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land. |
