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2009-08-27T14:24:00.000-07:00

Online Love Consulting Services help solve your love problems. Keep in touch and let's help you solve your love problems inside your home and in the surroundings.

To the Nightingale

2008-09-17T01:31:00.000-07:00

Sister of love-lorn Poets, Philomel!
How many Bards in city garret pent,
While at their window they with downward eye
Mark the faint lamp-beam on the kennell'd mud,
And listen to the drowsy cry of Watchmen
(Those hoarse unfeather’d Nightingales of Time!),
How many wretched Bards address thy name,
And hers, the full-orb'd Queen that shines above.
But I do hear thee, and the high bough mark,
Within whose mild moon-mellow'd foliage hid
Thou warblest sad thy pity-pleading strains.

S.T. Coleridge

Love

2008-07-01T10:45:00.000-07:00

For some we loved, the loveliest and the best
That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prest,
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to rest.

Omar Khayyam

A Great Poetic Work
Translated by Edward FitzGerald

Red Indians in Denmark

2008-06-06T09:09:00.001-07:00

Red Indians in Denmark

read more | digg story

Love

2008-04-07T00:17:00.000-07:00

It was as calm as this, that happy night
When Mary, thou, and I together were,
The low decaying Fire our only Light,
And listen’d to the Stillness of the Air!
O that affectionate and blameless Maid,
Dear Mary! on her Lap my head she lay’d –
Her Hand was on my Brow,
Even as my own is now;
And on my Check, I felt the eye-lash play.
Such joy I had, that I may truly say,
My spirit was awe-stricken with the Excess
And trance-like Depth of its brief Happiness.

From Dejection / A Letter / on selected poetry of S.T. Coleridge

Flesh of the Night

2007-10-16T06:02:00.000-07:00

I tore the curtain,
Between your bedroom,
And the library,
To catch a book,
Instead my eyes,
Caught your stripped thighs,
Flaming like my knowledge desire,
Free like this night's air.
I jumped softly to the library,
Just like a cat,
To catch a book,
I caught a warm flesh!

Khalid Osman
1999 Asmara

Ah Love

2007-06-05T00:39:00.000-07:00

Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits - and then
Re-mold it nearer to the Heart's Desire!

Omar Khayyam
Translated by Edward FitzGerald

My Love Silkeborg

2007-05-02T13:02:00.000-07:00

Come to Silkebo(rg),
And have a nice bow.
You'll see the beautiful city,
I like it like my little kitty.
Our city, is not so big,
But, it's quite and nice to dig,
Your way everywhere
Where you can see all those happy faces,
Passing by as dreams that in many cases,
Come true.

Come to Silkebo(rg),
See the God's river and the Long Lake,
You have so many pleasures in your way to take
The beautiful nature, and the nice culture.
And clap your hands twice,
People will think, you're very nice,
Greeting them, or otherwise,
You're so gentle and wise.

Love Only AdSensonia

2007-01-06T11:39:00.000-08:00

You're welcome to AdSensonia. Join this group below and let's get together to develop it.

	AdSensonia
	Browse Archives at groups.google.com

Love

2006-12-03T09:45:00.000-08:00

No! I am not prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To sweel a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic,cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous----
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old... I grow old...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the
beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers on the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Thomas Stern Eliot

Love

2006-11-09T10:56:00.000-08:00

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled
streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that
trail along the floor----
And this, and so much more?----
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as i a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns
on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
'That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.'

T.S. Eliot

Love

2006-11-07T13:00:00.000-08:00

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: 'I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all'----
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: 'That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.'

T.S. Eliot

Love

2006-11-03T12:10:00.000-08:00

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?...

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of slient seas.

. . . . .

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep... tired... or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices.
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald)
brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet----and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and
sincker,
And in short, I was afraid.

T.S Eliot

Love

2006-10-28T01:22:00.000-07:00

For I have known the eyes already, known them all----
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt- ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all----
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
T.S. Eliot - Selected Poetry

Love

2006-10-25T05:07:00.000-07:00

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, 'Do I dare?' and, 'Do I dare?'
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair----
(They will say: 'How his hair is growing thin!')
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly on the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin----
(They will say: 'But how his arms and legs are thin!')
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?

In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all----
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room
So how should I presume?

For I have known the eyes already, known them all----
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all----
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .

T.S. Eliot - Selected Poems
_______

Love Only!: Love

2006-10-23T10:29:00.000-07:00

Love Only!: Love

Love

2006-10-22T05:07:00.000-07:00

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

T.S. Eliot - Continuation to the verse below and above.

Love

2006-10-17T05:20:00.000-07:00

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,

Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

Continuation to "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" from T. S. Eliot Selected Poems.

Love!

2006-10-13T07:32:00.000-07:00

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restlessnights in one-night-cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question...
Oh, do not ask, 'What is it?'
Let us go and make our visit.

T.S.Eliot - Selected Pomes

Love

2006-09-03T08:51:00.000-07:00

Anytime You Need A Friend

If you're lonely
And need a friend
And troubles seem like
They never end
Just remember to keep the faith
And love will be there to light the way

Anytime you need a friend
I will be here
You'll never be alone again
So don't you fear
Even if you're miles away
I'm by your side
So don't you ever be lonely
Love will make it alright

When the shadows are closing in
And your spirit diminishing
Just remember you're not alone
And love will be there
To guide you home

If you just believe in me
I will love you endlessly
Take my hand
Take me into your heart
I'll be there forever baby
I won't let go
I'll never let go

Lyrics: Mariah Carey
Read more Mariah Carey's quotes and insights; and her bio here.

Love

2006-07-31T10:10:00.000-07:00

A Day Dream 15

'Twas day! But now few, large, and bright
The stars are round the crescent moon!
And now it is a dark warm night,
The balmiest of the month of June!
A glow-worm fallen, and on the marge remounting
Shines and its shadow shines, fit stars for our sweet fountain.

Love

2006-07-30T05:27:00.000-07:00

A Day Dream 10

A wild-rose roofs the ruined shed,
And that and summer well agree:
A lo! Where Mary leans her head,
Two dear names carved upon the tree!
And Mary’s tears, they are not tears of sorrow:
Our sister and our friend will both be here to-morrow.

Love

2006-07-28T15:31:00.000-07:00

A Day Dream 5

My eyes make pictures, when they are shut:-
I see a fountain, large and fair,
A willow and a ruined hut,
And thee, and me and Mary there,
O Mary! make thy gentle lap our pillow!
Bend o'er us, like a bower, my beautiful green willow!

Love

2006-07-03T12:00:00.000-07:00

I feel my spirit moved,
And whereso'er thou be,
O Sister! O Beloved!
Those dear mild eyes, that see
Even now the Heaven, I see--
There is a Prayer in them! It is for me--
And I, dear Sara, I am blessing thee!

From Dejection, A Letter, Sellected Pomes of S.T.Coleridge. Read his bio, Quotes and Insights at http://quotes-and-insights.blogspot.com

Love

2006-06-26T07:34:00.000-07:00

My little Children are a Joy, a Love,
A good Gift from above!
But what is Bliss, that still calls up a Woe,
And makes it doubly keen
Compelling me to feel, as well as know,
What a most blessed Lot mine might have been,
Those little Angel Children (woe is me!)
There have been hours when feeling how they bind
And pluck out the Wing-feathers of my mind,
Turning my Error to Necessity,
I have half-wish'd they never had been born!
That seldom! but sad Thoughts they always bring,
And like the Poet's Philomel, I sing
My Love-song, with my breast against a Thorn.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge
From Dejection - A Letter

Love

2006-06-24T09:28:00.000-07:00

No I don't have worries today,
But great love endures momentum ray,
because when it gets grey,
I trig it with soften jay.

From Khalid Osman's verse of the day!

Love

2006-06-21T12:48:00.000-07:00

Answer to a Child’s Question

Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove,
The linnet and thrush say, "I love and I love!"
In the winter they’re silent-the wind is so strong;
What it says, I don’t know, but it sings a loud song.
But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather,
And singing and loving-all come back together.
But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love,
The green fields below him, the blue sky above,
That he sings, and he sings; and for ever sings he-
“I love my love, and my love loves me!”
_______
S. T. Coleridge.
Read some bios about him at
http://quotes-and-insights.blogspot.com/2006/06/advice.html

Love

2006-06-16T11:04:00.000-07:00

Oh, I have forgotten to mention that some poems are published in Arabic here at http://sudanese-art.blogspot.com but I am going to check archives for those I wrote in English long time ago. In fact I have lost lot of them in the long escape. The escape itself has been a motive to write such poetry.

I hate dictatorship.

Love

2006-06-04T09:34:00.000-07:00

Amours des feintes

Amours des feintes
des faux-semblants
Infante défunte
se pavanant
cartes en quintes
s'édifiant
le palais d´un pince
catalan
Amours des feintes
Seul un candélabre scintille au vent
où l´on emprunte
des sentiments
le labyrinthe obsédant
Et comme si de rein n´était
on joue à l´émotion
Entre un automne et un été
mensonge par omission
Etrange crainte
en écoutant
les douces plaintes du vent
Amours des feintes
au présent et l´on s´éreinte
hors du temps
et pourtant maintes
fois l´on tend
a se maintenir longtemps

Jane Birkin

Love again!

2006-05-30T04:15:00.000-07:00

The next poetry is mine. It's a long, long time since I wrote verse in English. That time I was the most "attractive Bard" in town. Ahm;-) Girls were just flowing from every corner to catch up with the Bird;-) Enjoy the humor, cause there's no verse for this post.

It's just love again brain,
that's going to rain,
next time before the coming train...

hey what's this?!

Love!

2006-05-28T01:43:00.000-07:00

This is a whisper,
Deep in the soul,
I hear it jumping,
And twisting like a ball,
To make me remember
The beautiful world lies
Between her tongue and
Breathless ties!

No, this is not Salvador Dali "rhyming"!
It's "me" shaping this rhyme surrealistic.

Surrealism in Words!

Love

2006-05-10T08:21:00.000-07:00

The Arrow!

I thought of your beauty, and this arrow,
Made out of a wild thought, is in my marrow,
There's no man may look upon her, no man,
As when newly grown to be a woman,
Tall and noble but with face and bosom
Delicate in colour as apple blossom.
This beauty's kinder, yet for a reason
I could weep that the old is out of season.
_______
W.B. Yeats - From "In the Seven Woods"

Love

2006-04-23T03:59:00.000-07:00

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.

W.B. Yeats
________________________

Love

2006-03-27T06:11:00.000-08:00

O Do Not Love Too Long

Sweetheart, do not love too long:
I loved long and long,
And grew to be out of fashion
Like an old song.

All through the years of our youth
Neither could have known
Their own thought from the other's,
We were so much at one.

But O, in a minute she changed --
O do not love too long
Or you will grow out of fashion
Like an old song.
_______
W.B. Yeats

Love

2006-03-14T04:41:00.000-08:00

What lively lad most pleasured me
Of all that with me lay?
I answer that I gave my soul
And loved in misery,
But had great pleasure with a lad
That I loved bodily.

From Yeats' Last Confession".

Love

2006-02-22T04:26:00.000-08:00

When the BEE GEES Shoot Back!

Nights On Broadway

Here we are in the room full of strangers,
Standing in the dark where your eyes couldn't see me

Well, I have to follow you
Though you didn't want me to.
But that won't stop my lovin' you
I can't stay away

Blaming it all on the nights on Broadway
Singin' them love songs,
Singin' them straight to the heart songs.
Blamin' it all on the nights on Broadway
Singin' them sweet sounds
To that crazy, crazy town.

Love

2006-02-21T07:46:00.000-08:00

The Mermaid

A mermaid found a swimming lad,
Picked him for her own,
Pressed her body to his body,
Laughed; and plunging down
Forgot in cruel happiness
That even lovers drown.

Love

2006-01-19T23:41:00.000-08:00

From "A Man Young and Old"!

First Love

Though nurtured like the sailing moon
In beauty's murderous brood,
She walked awhile and blushed awhile
And on my pathway stood
Until I thought her body bore
A heart of flesh and blood.

But since I laid a hand thereon
And found a heart of stone
I have attempted many things
And not a thing is done,
For every hand is lunatic
That travels on the moon.

She smiled and that transfigured me
And left me but a lout,
Maundering here, and maundering there,
Emptier of thought
Than the heavenly circuit of its stars
When the moon sails out.

W.B. Yeats' Selected Poetry

Love

2005-12-24T07:36:00.000-08:00

Love's Sanctuary!

This yearning heart (Love! witness what I say)
Enshrines thy form as purely as it may,
Round which, as to some spirit uttering bliss,
My thoughts all stand ministrant night and day
Like saintly Priests, that dare not think amiss.

Coleridge

Love the Squadron of Poets 7

2005-12-13T23:20:00.000-08:00

To Asra

Are there two things, of all which men possess,
That are so like each other and so near,
As mutual Love seems like to Happiness?
Dear Asra, woman beyond utterance dear!
This Love which ever welling at my heart,
Now in its living fount doth heave and fall,
Now overflowing pours thro' every part
Of all my frame, and fills and changes all,
Like vernal waters springing up through snow,
This Love that seeming great beyond the power
Of growth, yet seemeth ever more to grow,
Could I transmute the whole to one rich Dower
Of Happy Life, and give it all to thee,
Thy lot, methinks, were Heaven, thy age, Eternity!

S.T.Coleridge
__________

Poets from the Horn of Africa, well -- or the entire Africa are welcome to join the Squadron of Poets linked to from the title above. Thanks.

Love the Squadron of Poets 6

2005-12-04T02:09:00.000-08:00

Come slowly, Eden
Lips unused to thee.
Bashful, sip thy jasmines,
As the fainting bee,
Reach late his flower,
Round her chamber hums,
Counts his nectars-alights,
And is lost in balms

Emily Dickinson
An American Poetess
1830-1886

Love

2005-11-26T04:42:00.000-08:00

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

This is a verse from the selected poems of S.T. Coleridge

Love the Squadron of Poets 5

2005-11-23T00:47:00.000-08:00

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

Love the Squadron of Poets 4

2005-11-22T05:30:00.000-08:00

She half inclosed me with her arms,
She pressed me with a meek embrace;
And bending back her head, looked up,
And gazed upon my face.

Love the Squadron of Poets 3

2005-11-18T03:13:00.000-08:00

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

Love

2005-11-17T10:58:00.000-08:00

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

Love

2005-11-15T10:40:00.000-08:00

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

And hopes and fears that kindle hope,
An indistinguishable throng,
And gentle wishes long subdued,
Subdued and cherished long!

Love

2005-11-09T10:03:00.000-08:00

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

And how she wept, and clasped 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 reached
That tenderest strain of all the ditty,
My faltering voice and pausing harp
Disturbed her soul with pity!

Love the Squadron of Poets 2

2005-11-07T05:21:00.000-08:00

But when I told the cruel scorn
That crazed that bold and lovely Knight,
And that he crossed 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 looked him in the face
An angel beautiful and bright;
And that he knew it was a Friend,
This miserable Knight!

Love

2005-11-06T04:29:00.000-08:00

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

Love the Squadron of Poets

2005-11-04T11:02:00.000-08:00

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.

Love

2005-11-02T05:46:00.000-08:00

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

love

2005-10-27T03:53:00.000-07:00

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

More about love at love above..

Love

2005-10-26T01:44:00.000-07:00

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

Love

2005-10-15T01:03:00.000-07:00

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

Love

2005-10-14T07:51:00.000-07:00

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

Love

2005-10-13T03:23:00.000-07:00

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!

Love

2005-09-25T11:15:00.000-07:00

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

Love

2005-09-24T05:38:00.000-07:00

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

S.T.Coleridge - Selected Poems

The Sorrow of Love!

2005-08-27T04:54:00.000-07:00

The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves,
The brilliant moon and all the milky sky,
And all that famous harmony of leaves,
Had blotted out man's image and his cry.

A girl arose that had red mournful lips
And seemed the greatness of the world in tears,
Doomed like Odysseus and the labouring ships
And proud as Priam murdered with his peers;

Arose, and on the instant clamorous eaves,
A climbing moon upon an empty sky,
And all that lamentation of the leaves,
Could but compose man's image and his cry.

"W.B.Yeats" The Rose 1893.

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Love Only!

2005-08-21T01:53:00.000-07:00

Love Only! Is Your Blog So, Blog It! I publish my English poetry here, in addition to some verses from well-known poets and singers. However, I wrote most of my pomes in Arabic, as English is my second language. I studied French and I spoke Danish too.

I may need to go back to study French more because I love this language and I think it is the best language in the world. That is only my feeling although English is very important international language.

This is an extension in verse and fiction to "My Love Nature" in images. Images to this concept are found here at My Love Nature