Poems by Theme


Blake, William

The Clod and the Pebble

Love seeketh not Itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care;
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.

So sang a little Clod of Clay
Trodden with the cattle's feet;
But a Pebble of the brook,
Warbled out these metres meet

. Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to It's delight:
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heavens despite.

Shelley, Percy Bysshe

The Indian Serenade

I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright.
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Hath led me—who knows how?
To thy chamber window, Sweet!
The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream—
And the champak’s odours
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
The nightingale’s complaint,
It dies upon her heart,
As I must on thine,
O beloved as thou art!
O lift me from the grass!
I die! I faint! I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast:
O press it to thine own again,
Where it will break at last!

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor

The Presence of Love

And in Life's noisiest hour,
There whispers still the ceaseless Love of Thee,
The heart's Self-solace and soliloquy.

You mould my Hopes, you fashion me within;
And to the leading Love-throb in the Heart
Thro' all my Being, thro' my pulse's beat;
You lie in all my many Thoughts, like Light,
Like the fair light of Dawn, or summer Eve
On rippling Stream, or cloud-reflecting Lake.

And looking to the Heaven, that bends above you,
How oft! I bless the Lot that made me love you.

Barrett Browning, Elizabeth

How do I Love Thee

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, --- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death

Shelley, Percy Bysshe

Loves Philosophy

The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle—
Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdain'd its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea—
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me


Love Me Little, Love Me Long

Love me little, love me long,
Is the burden of my song.
Love that is too hot and strong
Burneth soon to waste.
Still, I would not have thee cold,
Not too backward, nor too bold;
Love that lasteth till 'tis old
Fadeth not in haste.
Love me little, love me long,
Is the burden of my song.

If thou lovest me too much,
It will not prove as true as touch;
Love me little, more than such,
For I fear the end.
I am with little well content,
And a little from thee sent
Is enough, with true intent
To be steadfast friend.
Love me little, love me long,
Is the burden of my song.

Say thou lov'st me while thou live;
I to thee my love will give,
Never dreaming to deceive
Whiles that life endures.
Nay, and after death, in sooth,
I to thee will keep my truth,
As now, when in my May of youth;
This my love assures.
Love me little, love me long,
Is the burden of my song.

Constant love is moderate ever,
And it will through life persever;
Give me that, with true endeavor
I will it restore.
A suit of durance let it be,
For all weathers that for me,
For the land or for the sea,
Lasting evermore.
Love me little, love me long,
Is the burden of my song.

Winter's cold, or summer's heat,
Autumn's tempests on it beat,
It can never know defeat,
Never can rebel.
Such the love that I would gain,
Such the love, I tell thee plain,
Thou must give, or woo in vain;
So to thee, farewell!
Love me little, love me long,
Is the burden of my song.

Bourdillon, Francis William

The Night Has a Thousand Eyes

The night has a thousand eyes,
And the day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies
With the dying sun.

The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When love is done

Carroll, Kenneth

elaborate signings

(for Joy)

"women are the sweetness of life."

poets can build galaxies from pebbles
& breathe the word of life into brief glances,
but one must be careful with the power of creation
so i scribble an obligatory, struggling to keep from
staining the page with the exaggeration of new passion,
unsure if i am simply the writer who lives downstairs,
plays his coltrane too loud & likes thunderstorms

i take a trip one flight up
where your eyes escort me to another country,
your touch becomes a wet kiss on the horizon
of a birthday in a warm july
i travel to your smile to hear stories of
wrecked trains parked in your dining room

but the past is a vulgar thief
it steals the laughter from your eyes,
tosses the broken edges of yesterday's heartache
into this remembrance
i dream of erasing painful memories with lingering
caresses from a steady hand

i rearrange the jagged stars of your past
i am the young boy smiling at you with love letter eyes
i carve your name into the soul of graying trees
i am your first slow dance, a trembling hand teetering on your waist
i replace the melancholy prayers on your lips with urgent kisses
i swear an oath to your beauty, become holy in your embrace

traveling tall miles through years of distance,
i arrive, wet from your tears,
my only tool—a poet’s skill
i mend your smile,
emancipate your eyes,
& together
we ride that wrecked train from your dining room
to the horizon of your birthday in another country.

Carroll, Kenneth


(for my mother)

Before the sun splashed orange
against an obsidian sky creating purple,
Before the moon and stars were placed
upon the night to give it beauty
You loved me.

The oceans had not yet begun their watery chorus
The earth was barren and without purpose
when you first cared for me.

Before god was born
Before he sent his people northward
to build great pyramids and temples,
You were my god and my temple.

You were my savior before horus or jesus,
Before moses led his people to the promised land,
You were the land that gave to me the promise of life.

Before men made flags and assembled armies to defend their empires,
my empire was you, my anthem was:
my mother's womb, i am of thee
sweet place of security, of thee i sing.

Before words like life, beauty, and love had meaning,
you gave them to me, like gifts from a queen.
Before i knew what love was, i gave it to you in return.

Before time carved mountains out of the pit of the earth and turned glaciers
into seas and seas into deserts, You shared with me a timeless, infinite love.

Long after the sun is a burnt out symbol of a past life and the oceans are a
sip of water in the universe, i will still love you.

Warm yourself my mother, with these thoughts
when it gets too cold outside.

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor


All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
All are but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.

Oft in my waking dreams do I
Live o'er again that happy hour,
When midway on the mount I lay,
Beside the ruin'd tower.

The moonshine stealing o'er the scene
Had blended with the lights of eve;
And she was there, my hope, my joy,
My own dear Genevieve!

She lean'd against the armèd man,
The statue of the armèd knight;
She stood and listen'd to my lay,
Amid the lingering light.

Few sorrows hath she of her own,
My hope! my joy! my Genevieve!
She loves me best, whene'er I sing
The songs that make her grieve.

I play'd a soft and doleful air,
I sang an old and moving story
An old rude song, that suited well
That ruin wild and hoary.

She listen'd with a flitting blush,
With downcast eyes and modest grace;
For well she knew, I could not choose
But gaze upon her face.

I told her of the Knight that wore
Upon his shield a burning brand;
And that for ten long years he woo'd
The Lady of the Land.

I told her how he pined: and, ah!
The deep, the low, the pleading tone
With which I sang another's love
Interpreted my own.

She listen'd with a flitting blush,
With downcast eyes and modest grace;
And she forgave me, that I gazed
Too fondly on her face!

But when I told the cruel scorn
That crazed that bold and lovely Knight,
And that he cross'd the mountain-woods,
Nor rested day nor night;

That sometimes from the savage den,
And sometimes from the darksome shade,
And sometimes starting up at once
In green and sunny glade,

There came and look'd him in the face
An angel beautiful and bright;
And that he knew it was a Fiend,
This miserable Knight!

And that, unknowing what he did,
He leap'd amid a murderous band,
And saved from outrage worse than death
The Lady of the Land;

And how she wept, and clasp'd his knees;
And how she tended him in vain;
And ever strove to expiate
The scorn that crazed his brain;

And that she nursed him in a cave,
And how his madness went away,
When on the yellow forest-leaves
A dying man he lay;

His dying words:—but when I reach'd
That tenderest strain of all the ditty,
My faltering voice and pausing harp
Disturb'd her soul with pity!

All impulses of soul and sense
Had thrill'd my guileless Genevieve;
The music and the doleful tale,
The rich and balmy eve;

And hopes, and fears that kindle hope,
An undistinguishable throng,
And gentle wishes long subdued,
Subdued and cherish'd long!

She wept with pity and delight,
She blush'd with love and virgin shame;
And like the murmur of a dream,
I heard her breathe my name.

Her bosom heaved—she stepp'd aside,
As conscious of my look she stept—
Then suddenly, with timorous eye
She fled to me and wept.

She half enclosed me with her arms,
She press'd me with a meek embrace;
And bending back her head, look'd up,
And gazed upon my face.

'Twas partly love, and partly fear.
And partly 'twas a bashful art
That I might rather feel, than see,
The swelling of her heart.

I calm'd her fears, and she was calm.
And told her love with virgin pride;
And so I won my Genevieve,
My bright and beauteous Bride.

Barrett Browning, Elizabeth

The Lady's "Yes"

"Yes," I answered you last night;
"No," this morning, sir, I say:
Colors seen by candle-light
Will not look the same by day.

When the viols played their best,
Lamps above, and laughs below,
Love me sounded like a jest,
Fit for yes or fit for no.

Call me false or call me free,
Vow, whatever light may shine,
No man on your face shall see
Any grief for change on mine.

Yet the sin is on us both;
Time to dance is not to woo;
Wooing light makes fickle troth,
Scorn of me recoils on you.

Learn to win a lady's faith
Nobly, as the thing is high,
Bravely, as for life and death,
With a loyal gravity.

Lead her from the festive boards,
Point her to the starry skies,
Guard her, by your truthful words,
Pure from courtship's flatteries.

By your truth she shall be true,
Ever true, as wives of yore;
And her yes, once said to you,
SHALL be Yes for evermore.

Barrett Browning, Elizabeth

Sonnets from the Portuguese iv

IF thou must love me, let it be for naught
Except for love's sake only. Do not say,
'I love her for her smile--her look--her way
Of speaking gently,--for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day'
For these things in themselves, Beloved, may
Be changed, or change for thee--and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry:
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!
But love me for love's sake, that evermore
Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity.

Carney, Julia A

Little Things

Little drops of water,
Little grains of sand,
Make the mighty ocean
And the pleasant land.
Little deeds of kindness,
Little words of love,
Make our world an Eden
Like the Heaven above.

Earle Coates, Florence


For me the jasmine buds unfold
And silver daisies star the lea,
The crocus hoards the sunset gold,
And the wild rose breathes for me.
I feel the sap through the bough returning,
I share the skylark's transport fine,
I know the fountain's wayward yearning;
I love, and the world is mine!

I love, and thoughts that sometime grieved,
Still well remembered, grieve not me;
From all that darkened and deceived
Upsoars my spirit free.
For soft the hours repeat one story,
Sings the sea one strain divine,
My clouds arise all flushed with glory;
I love, and the world is mine!

Eliot, George

Two Lovers

Two lovers by a moss-grown spring:
They leaned soft cheeks together there,
Mingled the dark and sunny hair,
And heard the wooing thrushes sing.
O budding time!
O love's blest prime!

Two wedded from the portal stept:
The bells made happy carolings,
The air was soft as fanning wings,
White petals on the pathway slept.
O pure-eyed bride!
O tender pride!

Two faces o'er a cradle bent:
Two hands above the head were locked:
These pressed each other while they rocked,
Those watched a life that love had sent.
O solemn hour!
O hidden power!

Two parents by the evening fire:
The red light fell about their knees
On heads that rose by slow degrees
Like buds upon the lily spire.
O patient life!
O tender strife!

The two still sat together there,
The red light shone about their knees;
But all the heads by slow degrees
Had gone and left that lonely pair.
O voyage fast!
O vanished past!

The red light shone upon the floor
And made the space between them wide;
They drew their chairs up side by side,
Their pale cheeks joined, and said, "Once more!"
O memories!
O past that is!

Wheeler Wilcox, Ella

Which Are You?

There are two kinds of people on earth to-day;
Just two kinds of people, no more, I say.

Not the sinner and saint, for it's well understood,
The good are half bad, and the bad are half good.

Not the rich and the poor, for to rate a man's wealth,
You must first know the state of his conscience and health.

Not the humble and proud, for in life's little span,
Who puts on vain airs, is not counted a man.

Not the happy and sad, for the swift flying years
Bring each man his laughter and each man his tears.

No; the two kinds of people on earth I mean,
Are the people who lift, and the people who lean.

Wherever you go, you will find the earth's masses,
Are always divided in just these two classes.

And oddly enough, you will find too, I ween,
There's only one lifter to twenty who lean.

In which class are you? Are you easing the load,
Of overtaxed lifters, who toil down the road?

Or are you a leaner, who lets others share
Your portion of labor, and worry and care?

Teasdale, Sara

Hidden Love

I hid the love within my heart,
And lit the laughter in my eyes,
That when we meet he may not know
My love that never dies.

But sometimes when he dreams at night
Of fragrant forests green and dim,
It may be that my love crept out
And brought the dream to him.

And sometimes when his heart is sick
And suddenly grows well again,
It may be that my love was there
To free his life of pain.

Parker, Dorothy

Portrait, A

Because my love is quick to come and go-
A little here, and then a little there-
What use are any words of mine to swear
My heart is stubborn, and my spirit slow
Of weathering the drip and drive of woe?
What is my oath, when you have but to bare
My little, easy loves; and I can dare
Only to shrug, and answer, "They are so"?
You do not know how heavy a heart it is
That hangs about my neck- a clumsy stone
Cut with a birth, a death, a bridal-day.
Each time I love, I find it still my own,
Who take it, now to that lad, now to this,
Seeking to give the wretched thing away.

Shakespeare, William

Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love

Suckling, Sir John

The Constant Lover

Out upon it, I have loved
Three whole days together!
And am like to love three more,
If it prove fair weather.

Time shall moult away his wings
Ere he shall discover
In the whole wide world againv Such a constant lover.

But the spite on 't is, no praise
Is due at all to me:
Love with me had made no stays,
Had it any been but she.

Had it any been but she,
And that very face,
There had been at least ere this
A dozen dozen in her place.

Marvel, Andrew

To His Coy Mistress

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, Lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk and pass our long love's day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood,

And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast;
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart;
For, Lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song: then worms shall try
That long preserved virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust:
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapt power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

Symons, Arthur

Variations Upon Love

For God's sake, let me love you, and give over
These tedious protestations of a lover;
We're of one mind to love, and there's no let:
Remember that, and all the rest forget.
And let's be happy, mistress, while we may,
Ere yet to-morrow shall be called to-day.
To-morrow may be heedless, idle-hearted:
One night's enough for love to have met and parted.
Then be it now, and I'll not say that I
In many several deaths for you would die;
And I'll not ask you to declare that you
Will longer love than women mostly do.
Leave words to them whom words, not doings, move,
And let our silence answer for our love.

Oh, woman! I am jealous of the eyes
That look upon you; all my looks are spies
That do but lurk and follow you about,
Restless to find some guilty secret out.
I am unhappy if I see you not,
Unhappy if I see you; tell me what
That smile betokens? what close thing is hid
Beneath the half-way lifting of a lid?
Who is it, tell me, I so dread to meet,
Just as we turn the corner of the street?
Daily I search your baffling eyes to see
Who knows what new admitted company?
And, sick with dread to find the thing I seek,
I tremble at the name you do not speak.

I know your lips are bought like any fruit;
I know your love, and of your love the root;
I know your kisses toll for love that dies
In kissing, to be buried in your eyes;
I know I am degraded for your sake,
And that my shame will not so much as make
Your glory, or be reckoned in the debt
Of memories you are mindful to forget.
All this I know, and, knowing it, I come
Delighted to my daily martyrdom;
And, rich in love beyond the common store,
Become for you a beggar, to implore
The broken crumbs that from your table fall,
Freely, in your indifference, on all.

I loved her; and you say she loved me not.
Well, if I loved her? And if she forgot,
Well, I have not forgotten even yet:
Time, and spent tears, may teach me to forget.
And so she loves another, and did then
When she was heaven and earth to me, and when,
Truly, she made me happy. It may be:
I only know how good she was to me.
Friend, to have loved, to have been made happy thus,
What better fate has life in store for us,
The dream of life from which we have to wake,
Happier, why not? why not for a dream's sake?
To have been loved is well, and well enough
For any man: but 'tis enough to love.

Yeats, W B

Never Give All the Heart

Never give all the heart, for love
Will hardly seem worth thinking of
To passionate women if it seem
Certain, and they never dream
That it fades out from kiss to kiss;
For everything that's lovely is
But a brief, dreamy, kind delight.
O never give the heart outright,
For they, for all smooth lips can say,
Have given their hearts up to the play.
And who could play it well enough
If deaf and dumb and blind with love?
He that made this knows all the cost,
For he gave all his heart and lost.

Parker, Dorothy

Very Short Song, A

Once, when I was young and true,
Someone left me sad-
Broke my brittle heart in two;
And that is very bad.
Love is for unlucky folk,
Love is but a curse.
Once there was a heart I broke;
And that, I think, is worse.

Wheeler Wilcox, Ella


I MUST do as you do? Your way I own
Is a very good way, and still,
There are sometimes two straight roads to a town,
One over, one under the hill.
You are treading the safe and the well-worn way,
That the prudent choose each time;
And you think me reckless and rash to-day
Because I prefer to climb.
Your path is the right one, and so is mine.
We are not like peas in a pod,
Compelled to lie in a certain line,
Or else be scattered abroad.
'T were a dull old world, me thinks, my friend,
If we all just went one way;
Yet our paths will meet no doubt at the end,
Though they lead apart today.
You like the shade, and I like the sun;
You like an even pace,
I like to mix with the crowd and run,
And then rest after the race.
I like danger, and storm, and strife,
You like a peaceful time;
I like the passion and surge of life,
You like its gentle rhyme.
You like buttercups, dewy sweet,
And crocuses, framed in snow;
I like roses, born of the heat,
And the red carnation's glow.
I must live my life, not yours, my friend,
For so it was written down;
We must follow our given paths to the end,
But I trust we shall meet--in town.

Oldfield, Brenda M

I have Loved and Lost

I have loved and lost, loved and lost
My love a cursed cost, a cursed cost
Crushed beneath such weighted pain
Bright dreams fled, a torture to sustain

Can it be, the pleasures of my Self, so let down?
For it’s the joys I gave, the jewels of my crown
My caring goodly self, and carefree mind,
Voices great memories, I must now lay behind

The touch of love’s affections, now deemed to run
And I don’t know why, why this must be done
Ah, but love’s a desire, that refills an empty cup
She beckons sweetly, that I must dearly sup

The mighty light of love, to perish this darkness
Giving me breath, to silence, my weeping and sadness
O light of love, I hear echoes, echoes of my all within
A serene guitar strumming, that love can now begin

Amidst yesterday, tomorrow, and always for today
Burning brighter, that love will not decay
Begetting new life, by the life of love
Spreading its wings, far and wide, up and above

For love seeds, and it grows, like a dandelion
Determined to live, wherever, whenever it has fallen
Oh I have not lost, because I have loved and lost!
But because I’ll love again, despite, the cursed cost!

Oldfield, Brenda M

I Am Affection

I am affection!
A living paradise! Embracing love!
Your love! Our love! All love!

I am a delicate sense! Of enduring touch!
Caressing! Parents, friends, and lovers
A silent act, of praise, oh so sublime!
Human ties cherished, like children’s playtime!

I feel not, I hear not, time’s duration
For I’m lasting! Awake everywhere
Infusing, honey and milk, so sincere
Of bonding, and sweet belonging

I am a voice! A maestro! In harmony!
Sharing a vision, of splendid unity
Singing feelings, of mutual goodwill
Connecting! Each to the other

I am a rich ocean! Of true, intense love!
For you! For me! For all! A peace-dove!
A Jasmine, exhaling, sweet smiles
Exciting! So many, cheery delights

A dynamic treasure! Of mighty tenderness!
Ah what comfort! Oh, what gentleness!
Homely, resting, glowing with warmth
Never repelling, attracting, one and all

I am kin! Of kindness! And compassion!
Fortifying! Happiness, and inspiration
An innocent child, of generosity
Deceived only, by primitive fears

A victim, oh so sadly, of morbid greed
Pulled apart, by falsity, and ugly creed
My heart abandoned, oh how it can be?
For I’m this soft blanket, made of hugs

A living light, which cannot rust
For I touch! I give! And I trust!
A majestic mother, of adoration!
A precious path, to a selfless life!

I am affection!
A living paradise! Embracing love!
Your love! Our love! All love!

Oldfield, Brenda M


Can a woman
Be made mute and, naïve?
By some un-sisterly pest
That barks to deceive

Blind, to the infliction,
Of grief and, bitter cries
Doomed to deflect,
The damned sinister lies,

Back to a mind, drooling
With some rancid sore
Its odour once ignored,
But now no more

For who can bear,
The belittling of their pain
Feelings denied
For personal gain

By a web woven,
To entrap and infuriate
A machine wheeling grief
Just to humiliate

Who are they?
To make us weep?
Have nightmares bleak,
So little sleep

Faces scored by tears,
Deviously drawn
By a witch’s dumb craft
Brewing spittle to scorn,

Whilst heaving hearts,
Objects to demean
Kindness forsaken,
Forgotten, so obscene,

Except dim keenness
For insular selves,
Hunting with snouts,
Like greedy she-wolves

Sucking veins dry
Of kinship, to then reign
With pure acidic claws,
Buried deep, within the brain

Just for being married
To someone’s son!
A condition of bondage
Deaf fiends have spun!

Oldfield, Brenda M

Love is

Love is like, a flower’s naked bud
Blossoming to entice, always ready to entreat
Its nectar’s golden pure and, taste not bittersweet!

Love is like, a child playing in a meadow
Who knows not time or, what brings the day
Nor ever weary, of cradling, the heart’s happy foray!

Love is like, a woman with a babe
In a big round belly or, in gently folded arms
She’s a beauty, steeped, in all our mothers’ charms!

Love is like, a very fine noble man
Keeping at bay, life’s trials and tribulations
He seeds comfort to kinship, without stipulations!

Love is like, the joys of birdsong
A living melody, supreme in its dexterity
Sung everywhere, for it embraces, sweet sincerity!

Love is like, the rays of the sun
Sparkling with warmth, for life to live and, endure
Amid a fusion of compassion, in majestic grandeur!

Alas, words are but figments of love
For they can never feel, the enchanted glow
Of a tender touch, so breathless, in its timeless flow!

For what is love, but that we love
Aye, it’s what we do, through me and, through you,
No matter what, no matter who!

Oldfield, Brenda M

When Love is Denied

What is this life?
When love is denied
I asked it to the mind
And so it cried,

You’re a bloodless no one
A bloodless no one
With a heart that throbs,
Tho’ it’ll never be won

What is this life?
When love is denied
I repeat it to the mind
And so it sighed,

You’re bitterly lost
So bitterly lost
Like a hardened leaf,
In the frozen frost

What is this life?
When love is denied
I insisted it to the mind
And so it modified

You’re fuming in the dark
Just fuming in the dark
To spontaneously ignite
Like a lightning spark

What is this life?
When love is denied
I saw it in the mind
And so it signified

Your future’s been slain
So brutally slain
Hurled into an abyss
With nothing to gain

What is this life?
When love is denied
Still I search the mind,
But now it defied

You’re haste-fully daunted
So haste-fully daunted
A self-pitying stooge
Bloodthirsty when taunted

Oh, what is this curse?
That life can’t abide
A mind merely tortured,
When love is denied

For the fickle-some mind
Has no heart to rule
It can’t reverse my gloom
But love, is no such fool!

Oldfield, Brenda M

Resplendent Mirror Of Self (Version 1)

Gentle Self, blow not thy horns of identity
Windswept in self-pity, lacking chords of sincerity
Pipe devotion to others, ‘tis a melody of mortals
Similarities kindled, not wasted in thy miseries
Sense others, O resplendent mirror of Self!

Gentle Self, dig not for riches, ‘tis falsehood,
Belittling the bedrock, of beloved ‘childhood’
Forget fortresses; raise life in harmony
Wings of empathy, nurtured, meek and mild
Free others, O resplendent mirror of Self!

Gentle Self, seek not the dim dens of power
For therein lurks, thy pride’s darkest hour
Open doors to grasp, the lights of humility
Finding kernels, of what ye do not know
See others, O resplendent mirror of Self!

Gentle Self, beat not drums of infinite reason
Dance to thy heart’s rhythms, in unison
With finite wisdom, she means to understand
Sending not a sound, of what’s right or wrong,
Hear others, O resplendent mirror of Self!

Gentle Self, discard not the armour of trust
Thy sword of deceit cuts cold, inner disgust
Wear another’s esteem, shielded in thy pulse
Fearing not harm, but making hearts warm
Know others, O resplendent mirror of Self!

Gentle Self, yield not to the whims of thy patience
Face integrity, she smiles, with warm sentience
A bridge crossed, for another’s space and time,
Carrying, diamonds of dignity, Ruby’s respect
Cheer others, O resplendent mirror of Self!

Gentle Self, resist not the art of being sorry
Defending fears, that ego, liberates no worry
Why see, feel, listen, think and speak, to act?
For this peace, this joy, with no battles fought
Touch others, O resplendent mirror of Self!

Gentle Self, share this mirror, ‘tis a true reflection,
Of compassion, touching hands, rich in affection,
A life lived, in tender deeds and words, truly kind
Beaming love, thru open hearts, in the human mind

So eyes can see, you in me, me in you,
For loving others, ‘tis to thy self, be true
And in loving all, thy love’s never done
What splendour! You and I, just as one!
O resplendent mirror of Self!

Oldfield, Brenda M

Resplendent Mirror Of Self (Version 2)

Gentle Self, blow not the horns of thy identity,
Of self-pity and fickle roots, but pipe humanity
Into similarities, a chorus of childhood glee
Awakening selfhood, this beauty that we be

See! I am, others in self, self in others
Sense others! O resplendent mirror of Self

Gentle Self, bang not drums of infinite reason,
It beats a din, a sophistry, veiled in dim treason
Throb to finite wisdom, not right or wrong
Bonding cherished songs, of how we belong

Communicate! I am, others in self, self in others
Hear others! O resplendent mirror of Self

Gentle Self, spin not wheels of rancid riches
Turn life into harmony, not fancy fortresses,
Till empathy gardens, to flower with affinity
Reaping its nectar, for the sake of mere unity

Give! I am, others in self, self in others
Reach others! O resplendent mirror of Self

Gentle Self, stir no pot of angst breeders
Mingle minds like books, gladdening readers
Seek such vessels, of what ye do not know,
Feeding this hunger, to brew no more sorrow

Grow! I am, others in self, self in others
Free others! O resplendent mirror of Self

Gentle Self, ruffle not thy feathers of patience
Brush integrity’s face, with a clean conscience,
Stroke the bare feet, of another’s space and time
Tending repose, not rebukes of hurt or crime

Smile! I am, others in self, self in others
Cheer others! O resplendent mirror of Self

Gentle Self, fight not thy heart to be sorry
Defending fears, or guilt, liberates no worry
Yield to the mind’s image, of equity in thought,
Driving peace chariots, with no battles fought

Feel! I am, others in self, self in others
Know others! O resplendent mirror of Self

Gentle Self, O adorn thee, in the armour of trust,
Not words, garbed in deceit, it cuts inner disgust
Put on the pulse, of another’s virtue or sin
Transcending deep wounds, of demons within

Touch! I am, others in self, self in others
Embrace others! O resplendent mirror of Self

Gentle Self, O bind compassion to thy attention
Willing tenderness, for the spirit of thy affection,
For all sentient beings, in deeds and words truly kind
Reflecting Love, thru mirrors, of the human mind

To be others, in thee! To love others, in me!
You and I, as one! O resplendent mirror of Self!