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Poems, Videos, Lyrics, Letting A Positive Vibe-->Or Making Reflect--> Or Smile

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''None can love freedom heartily, but good men; the rest love not freedom, but licence.''

John Milton (1608-1674), British poet. repr. In Complete Prose Works of Milton, ed. Ernest Sirluck (1959). The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates (1649)....

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Voices from ancient Ireland. Translation by Bob Willoughby

 

The clear voice of the red-backed deer

under the oak tree, high on the summit

gentle hinds and they so timid

lying hidden in your well-wooded glade.

 

Glen of the scarlet-berried rowan

fruit praised by every flock of birds,

for the badgers a sleepy seclusion

quiet in their burrows with their young.

 

Glen of the silent blue-eyed hawk

glen with rich bounty from every tree

glen sheltered by peaks on every side

glen of the blackberry, wild plum and apple.

 

Glen of the sleek brown flat-nosed otter

leaping lightly, freely fishing,

many are the graceful white-winged swans,

salmon spawning in the stony streams.

 

Glen of the tangled ranching yew

glen of mists and gentle cows

glen of the clear brilliant sun

glen of the graceful women, perfect as pearls.

 

Deirdre remembers a glen 14th century

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Aslan.. I'll catch your fall... Love it! Billy McGuinness sounds kind of like Bono or Vice Versa? lol This song lifted me this weekend.. thank you Christy..

 

I need a little time.. new song 6/6/14 I'm a few months behind discovering this band.. Peace out Meela

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mistral,

height

suggests i move as a minstrel,

mistral

it blows and i hear

the music is around,

height,

and i run fast,

mountains,

age runs along

the profiles,

mistral

i run fast,

minstrel

i talk about the good news,

mistral,

height,

it multiplies

vocation

to the infinite.

Edited by paoladegliesposti

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I maintain that, if everyone knew what others said about him, there would not be four friends in the world.

Blaise Pascal (1623-1662), French scientist, philosopher. Pensées, no. 792, ed. Krailsheimer; no. 101, ed. Brunschvicg (1670).

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She.


 


Vessels pound through her sapphire skin


Stroking a nerve


Her muscles strain 


Hoping.


 


They run through her tangled tendrils


Grabbing a strand


Her eyes scan 


Searching.


 


They trace the curve of her silvery waist


Cupping a wave


Her lips expand


Swallowing.


 

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When the spirit that yearns comes in touch with bonds... 

Its free to fly not having to even stay with its scarred old soul

away It flies into the midnight sky and with a little help from love all around

It may return to a better place within and find true peace and tranquility

this is the cry of a lonely dove..

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When the spirit that yearns comes in touch with bonds... 

Its free to fly not having to even stay with its scarred old soul

away It flies into the midnight sky and with a little help from love all around

It may return to a better place within and find true peace and tranquility

this is the cry of a lonely dove..

hello, thank you

 

i say : relief, no flee,peace.

Edited by paoladegliesposti

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Robert Graves. At the well.

 

To work it out even a thought better

than ever before- yet a thought rare enough

to raise a sigh of wonder-

that is your art (he said) but mine also

since first I fell upon the secret

and sighed for wonder that our dry mouths

after a world of travel

were drawn together by the same spell

to drink at the same well.

Coincidence (she said) continues with us

secret by secret,

love's magic being no more than obstinacy

in love's perfection

like the red apple, highest on the tree

reserved for you by me.

 

Logic*

Clear knowledge having come

of an algebraic queendom,

compulsive touch and tread

by a public voice dictated

proclaims renewed loyalty

to a defunct geometry:

blue-prints of logic

 

Logic, tricking the tongue

with its fool's learning,

prescribed excess,

devoted emptiness,

with dull heart-burning

for a forgotten peace,

for work beyond employment,

for trust beyond allegiance,

for love beyond enjoyment,

for life beyond existence,

for death beyond decease.

 

Love and peace!

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At a solemn music by John Milton

 

Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav'n's joy, 
Sphere-born harmonious Sisters, Voice and Verse, 
Wed your divine sounds, and mixt power employ 
Dead things with inbreath'd sense able to pierce, 
And to our high-rais'd fantasy present 
That undisturbed Song of pure concent, 
Ay sung before that saphire-colour'd throne 
To Him that sits thereon 
With Saintly shout and solemn Jubilee, 
Where the bright Seraphim in burning row 
Their loud up-lifted Angel trumpets blow, 
And the Cherubic host in thousand choirs 
Touch their immortal Harps of golden wires, 
With those just Spirits that wear victorious Palms, 
Hymns devout and holy Psalms 
Singing everlastingly; 
That we on Earth with undiscording voice 
May rightly answer that melodious noise; 
As once we did, till disproportion'd sin 
Jarr'd against Nature's chime, and with harsh din 
Broke the fair music that all creatures made 
To their great Lord, whose love their motion sway'd 
In first obedience, and their state of good. 
And keep in tune with Heav'n, till God ere long 
To His celestial consort us unite, 
To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of light

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because of all i listen and read:

 

brave spirit
high above the skies
keep hand upon us
light our minds
send
angels of mercy
to reverse
awful line
protect
insane misery
thoughts
give rays
of light
to angels
of peace
to angels
of guide
keep mildness
and piety and
safety
on the priority line
of the daytime'
skills
for ever 
and  in infinitive times

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