Le ChatViens, mon beau chat, sur mon coeur amoureux; Retiens les griffes de ta patte, Et laisse-moi plonger dans tes beaux yeux, Mêlés de métal et d'agate. Lorsque mes doigts caressent à loisir Ta tête et ton dos élastique, Et que ma main s'enivre du plaisir De palper ton corps électrique, Je vois ma femme en esprit. Son regard, Comme le tien, aimable bête, Profond et froid, coupe et fend comme un dard, Et, des pieds jusques à la tête, Un air subtil, un dangereux parfum, Nagent autour de son corps brun.

I find no peace, and all my war is done,I fear and hope; I burn and freeze like ice;I fly above the wind yet can I not arise;And naught I have and all the world I seize on.That looseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison,And holdeth me not, yet can I scape nowise;Nor letteth me live nor die at my devise,And yet of death it giveth none occasion.Without eyen I see, and without tongue I plain;I desire to perish, and yet I ask health;I love another, and thus I hate myself;I feed me in sorrow, and laugh in all my pain.Likewise displeaseth me both death and lifeAnd my delight is causer of this strife.

A touch so tenderBliss of sweet words fills of desire Open Hearts of sweet surrender Nightly poison gas the fire. A quite place to romance Touches as we held hands. No loud words spoken, but whispers Just Heart, promises to be kept No tales being told tonight. No looking back ­ no regrets. Longing for this momentSuch complacent little time. We vowed to another. Being lonely is the only hate within my heart. Tomorrow bringing sorrow. A smoke of Marlboro to release myself. A brief moment of blame with shame With memories reflecting back to those nights. A release from compassion's flames.

After the fierce midsummer all ablaze Has burned itself to ashes, and expires In the intensity of its own fires,There come the mellow, mild, St. Martin daysCrowned with the calm of peace, but sad with haze. So after Love has led us, till he tires Of his own throes, and torments, and desires,Comes large-eyed friendship: with a restful gaze,He beckons us to follow, and across Cool verdant vales we wander free from care. Is it a touch of frost lies in the air?Why are we haunted with a sense of loss?We do not wish the pain back, or the heat;And yet, and yet, these days are incomplete.

A Paradise for you and meTrust, true love to guide us freeLoneliness shall not fill the dayI will forever be with youOur Love is beautiful like the sunshine lighting the wayYour gentle feelYour caring handsThere is no doubt in your soulNo eerie place in your heart to express this feelingOur compassion flows in the waves just to save and brighten my day My heart has no hoes Awaiting your paceto touch this placeOur love, withstanding all odds Diminishing hate, in our thoughts There is no place I rather be til eternity... Than in your soul, life and in your dreams... I am here to stay with you forever.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and heightMy soul can reach, when feeling out of sightFor the ends of being and ideal grace.I love thee to the level of every day'sMost 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 the passion put to useIn my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.I love thee with a love I seemed to loseWith 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.

I want you to judge me without thinking about it.I want you to give me advice without considering my opinion.I want you to expecting anything without the need to trust me.I want you to decide for me with all the care in the world.I want you to help me without smothering me.I want you to decide without seeing my point of view.I want you to hug me without holding me...I want you to feel protected in my presence without me having to lie.I want you to be close without suffocating me.I want you to know everything without knowing anything...I want you to know that both love and friendship should always be Unconditional.

I didn’t leave early that morning. I waited for him to wake up and kiss me good morning. He said he was going to take a shower and I should come join him. I thought now was as good of a time as any and placed the ring on his corner table with my note. It read:My Love, I don’t know how you will accept my decision. I do love you with all my heart but you are not my first love. I am always going to be infatuated with my love for the sea. Accept my proposal after I have completed my education, claim my heart for thy own & obtain thy love in which it possesses.With all My Love, Zara-emerald eyes of the sea

O Deus Ego Amo TeOh God, I love Thee mightily,Not only for Thy saving me, Nor yet because who love not TheeMust burn throughout eternity.Thou, Thou, my Jesu, once didst meEmbrace upon the bitter Tree.For me the nails, the soldier's spear, With injury and insult, bear-In pain all pain exceeding,In sweating and in bleeding,Yea, very death, and that for meA sinner all unheeding!O Jesu, should I not love TheeWho thus hast dealt so lovingly-Not hoping some reward to see,Nor lest I my damnation be;But as Thyself hast loved me,So love I now and always Thee,Because my King alone Thou art,Because, O God, mine own Thou art!

EnnuiTea leaves thwart those who court catastrophe,designing futures where nothing will occur:cross the gypsy’s palm and yawning shewill still predict no perils left to conquer.Jeopardy is jejune now: naïve knightfinds ogres out-of-date and dragons unheardof, while blasé princesses indicttilts at terror as downright absurd.The beast in Jamesian grove will never jump,compelling hero’s dull career to crisis;and when insouciant angels play God’s trump,while bored arena crowds for once look eager,hoping toward havoc, neither pleas nor prizesshall coax from doom’s blank door lady or tiger.

If thou must love me, let it be for noughtExcept for love's sake only. Do not say'I love her for her smile ... her look ... her wayOf speaking gently, ... for a trick of thoughtThat falls in well with mine, and certes broughtA sense of pleasant ease on such a day'For these things in themselves, Beloved, mayBe changed, or change for thee,--and love, so wrought,May be unwrought so. Neither love me forThine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,A creature might forget to weep, who boreThy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!But love me for love's sake, that evermoreThou may'st love on, through love's eternity.

Robert Frost didn’t like to explain his poems—and for good reason: to explain a poem is to suck the air from its lungs. This does not mean, however, that poets shouldn’t talk about their poetry, or that one shouldn’t ask questions about it. Rather, it suggests that any discussion of poetry should celebrate its ultimate ineffability and in so doing lead one to further inquiry. I think of that wonderful scene from Elie Wiesel’s memoir, Night, where Mosche the Beadle of the local synagogue, in dialogue with the young, precocious author, explains: “Every question possesses a power that does not lie in the answer.

She winced and covered her ears as Eric,onstage, wrestled with his microphone."Sorry about that, guys!" he yelled. "All right. I'm Eric, and this is my homeboy Matt on the drums. My first poem is called 'Untitled.'" He screwed up his face as if in pain, and wailed into the mike. "Come my faux juggernaut, my nefarious loins! Slather every protuberance with arid zeal!"Simon slid down in his seat. "Please don't tell anyone I know him."Clary giggled. "Who uses the word 'loins'?""Eric," Simon said grimly. "All his poems have loins in them."'Turgid is my torment!" Eric wailed. "Agony swells within!""You bet it does," Clary said.

Once, we were a mighty nation Our people came from strong foundation Until cursed with darker days A dragon red came from skies blue Came and stole the things we once knew Making us humble, unknown But we were told one day of old That we’d give our throne of ancient gold To a prince and dragon slayer’s son For us to regain the ancient throne He will fight and bleed for our mountain home This dragon prince of Bowen’s line He will kill the drake that broke us He will remove the Witch who cursed us And become our King some glad day So now we wait ever patiently We wait for the one promised to make us free We wait for this prince to come

Sonnet VIIIJe vis, je meurs : je me brûle et me noie,J’ai chaud extrême en endurant froidure ;La vie m’est et trop molle et trop dure,J’ai grands ennuis entremêlés de joie.Tout en un coup je ris et je larmoie,Et en plaisir maint grief tourment j’endure,Mon bien s’en va, et à jamais il dure,Tout en un coup je sèche et je verdoie.Ainsi Amour inconstamment me mèneEt, quand je pense avoir plus de douleur,Sans y penser je me trouve hors de peine.Puis, quand je crois ma joie être certaine,Et être en haut de mon désiré heur,Il me remet en mon premier malheur.