Thursday, 18 December 2014

A Stranger !

               (This poem I wrote several years ago)  

                              A stranger

           Walks in crowded cities,
           Unmindful of human complexities,
           And life's eternal beauties,
           A stranger.

           Friendship often seeks,
           That meetings make,
           And partings break,
           A stranger.

           Confines in mystery,
           Looks what is not he,
           But someone else be,
           A stranger.

           Scruples that reside,
           In a human mind,
           Reason could he find,
           A stranger.

           A few moments ago,
           when asked, where you go,
           He says, 'I don't know',
           A stranger.

           His lovable countenance,
           Gives some assurance,
           Of future remembrance,
           A stranger.

                       *         *        *

Sunday, 7 December 2014

Forgotten Verse of Shakespeare...

                                                (concluding part of verse)


        Gentle wind sport did find,
        Wantonly to make fly,
                       her golden tresses.
        As they shook, I did look,
        But her fair did impair
                              all my senses.
        As amazed, I gazed
        On more than a mortal 
        Them that I love can prove
        Such force in beauty's 


        Next her hair, forehead fair,
        Smooth and high; next doth lie,
                             without wrinkle,
        Her fair brows; under those,
        Star-like eyes win love's prize
                             when they twinkle,
        In her cheeks who seeks
        Shall find there displayed
                             beauty's banner;
        On admiring desiring 
        Breeds, as I look still upon her,


        Thin lips red, fancy's fed,
        With all sweet when he meets,
                               and is granted,
         There to trade, and is made
         Happy, sure, to endure
                              still undaunted. 
         Pretty chin doth win
         Of all the world commendations;
         Fairest neck, no speck;
         All her parts merit high admirations.


         A pretty bare, past compare,
         Parts those plots which besots
                                  still asunder.
         It is meet naught but sweet
         Should come near that so rare
                                  'tis a wonder.
         No mishap, no scape
         Inferior to nature's perfection;
         No blot, no spot:
         She's beauty's queen in election.


         Whilst I dreamt, I exempt
         From all care, seemed to share
                                pleasures in plenty;
         But awake, care take__
         For I find to my mind
                               pleasures scanty.
        Therefore, I will try
        To compass my heart's chief contending.
        To such a case causeth repenting.

                          ___  William Shakespeare
(credit to Gary Taylor for finding this priceless poem)

Tuesday, 2 December 2014

Forgotten Verse of Shakespeare

*   Hi, here's a forgotten verse of Shakespeare for poetry lovers!!

Forgotten Verse

                        Shall I die? shall I fly
                        Lovers' baits and deceits,
                                             sorrow breeding?
                        Shall I fend? Shall I send?
                        Shall I shew, and not rue
                                              my proceeding?
                        In all duty her beauty
                        Binds me her servant for ever.
                        If she scorn, I mourn,
                        I retire to despair, joying never.


                        Yet I must vent my lust
                        And explain inward pain
                                         by my love breeding.
                        If she smiles, she exiles
                        All my moan; is she frown,
                                     all my hopes deceiving.
                        Suspicious doubt, O keep out,
                        For thou art my tormentor.
                        Fly away, pack away;
                        I will love, for hope bids me venter.


                       "Twere abuse to accuse
                       My fail love, ere I prove
                                                 her affection.
                       Therefore try! Her reply
                       Gives thee joy-- or annoy,
                                                  or affliction.
                       Yet how'er, I will bear
                       Her pleasure with patience,
                                                   for beauty.
                       Sure will not seem to blot
                       Her deserts, wronging him
                                                doth her duty.


                       In a dream it did seem
                       But alas, dreams do pass
                                            as do shadows.
                       I did walk, I did talk
                       with my love, with my dove
                                   through fair meadows.
                       Still we passed till at last
                       We sat to repose us for our 
                       Being set, lips met,
                       Arms twined, and did bind
                                       my heart's treasure.

                       (to be continued.....................)

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