"Hour Of Inspiration" – 246 rezultate
0.01 secundeMeilisearchHancu George
Inspiration Inspiration Sit down she said, pen me a few lines, tell me of life, love, hopes and dreams. write to me of much happier times When love ruled your heart, and life it seemed Was full of possibilities, plans and endless schemes. I took up the challenge, and began to write, Of life, of love and hopes and dreams, Words flowed like rivers, as I wrote them down, Thinking all the while of the lady I'd found To inspire my thoughts, and urge me on, To make something beautiful, maybe a song. Into the small hours, I toiled away, writing down lines, throwing them away. 'Twas then that I realised, that the happier times That she spoke of and wanted, were not of that time. For the happier times were not from long ago, But were here with me now, and now I know, That 'twas the love for this lady, that made my words flow, And to write something beautiful, for her, her alone. I wrote of life, and my living with her, Of love, her in my arms forever more, Of hopes, a future for us so bright,...
2 poezii, 0 proze
DDdiaconescu diana
"Though nothing can bring back the hour,of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower, we will grieve not, but rather find strength in what remains behind." william wordsworth
244 poezii, 0 proze
ITIoan Tițian
Prenume: Ioan Nume: Tițian email: maa_eendo@yahoo.com Photo: by Me ... 1 Does the Eagle know what is in the pit? 2 Or wilt thou go ask the Mole? 3 Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod? 4 Or Love in a golden bowl? (by W. Blake) ... I ne'er was struck before that hour With love so sudden and so sweet. Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower And stole my heart away complete. My face turned pale, a deadly pale. My legs refused to walk away, And when she looked what could I ail My life and all seemed turned to clay. And then my blood rushed to my face And took my eyesight quite away. The trees and bushes round the place Seemed midnight at noonday. I could not see a single thing, Words from my eyes did start. They spoke as chords do from the string, And blood burnt round my heart. Are flowers the winter's choice Is love's bed always snow She seemed to hear my silent voice Not love appeals to know. I never saw so sweet a face As that I stood before. My heart has left its dwelling place And can...
6 poezii, 0 proze
The Afternoon of a Faun
de Stéphane Mallarmé
These nymphs I would perpetuate. So clear Their light carnation, that it floats in the air Heavy with tufted slumbers. Was it a dream I loved? My doubt, a heap of ancient night, is finishing In many...
Dialogue Between a Priest and a Dying Man (1782)
de Donatien Alphonse François, marquis de Sade
PRIEST - Come to this the fatal hour when at last from the eyes of deluded man the scales must fall away, and be shown the cruel picture of his errors and his vices - say, my son, do you not repent...
By the sides of the same bridge
de Andrei Dumitrescu
By the sides of the same bridge colapsing Our hearts coliding, wearing the same stich fighting eachother to death playing with suicide, Taking on fate tonight as if it is our last dance on the chasm...
To smile with the smile of a god
de Andrei Dumitrescu
For to see with the eye of the mind is to embrace the seeing with the flame of blue darkness, For to breathe with the breath on the angel is to love with the unkind kindness of invisible creatures...
The walk at dusk
de Lory Cristea
The hour of repose. The steaks and potatoes, the chicken noodle soups, the pizzas and cold glasses of milks quietly turning into my neighbors. The quiet streets. The Fords and Chevys, the Buicks and...
The Needle
de Ezra Pound
Come, or the stellar tide will slip away. Eastward avoid the hour of its decline, Now! for the needle trembles in my soul! Here we have had our vantage, the good hour. Here we have had our day, your...
Cateva poezii
de Nikita. V
Midnight,the town and the remorse. Waiting for the sleep to come Hearing the sleepy city moan Something doesn\'t seem okay Something doesn\'t appear secure Hearing the lunatics shout While trying to...
Ash Wednesday
de T.S. Eliot
I Because I do not hope to turn again Because I do not hope Because I do not hope to turn Desiring this man\'s gift and that man\'s scope I no longer strive to strive towards such things (Why should...
The Garret
de Ezra Pound
Come, let us pity those who are better off than we are. come, my friend, and remember that the rich have butlers and no friends, And we have friends and no butlers. Come, let us pity the married and...
După o mare durerre urmează nepăsarea
de Emily Dickinson
După o mare durere, urmează nepăsarea - Nervii-s solemni asemeni Criptelor în Cimitire - Inima împietrită se-ntreabă - Eu am îndurat De Ieri, de Secole - n-am știre - Înțepenite Picioarele mă poartă...
Birds
de Saint-John Perse
A man at sea, feeling noon in the air, lifts his head at this wonder: a white gull opened on the sky, like a woman\'s hand before the flame of a lamp, elevating in daylight the pink translucence of a...
Interviu luat de Cristian Petru Bălan violonistului și dirijorului român-american, Prof. Mihai Craioveanu
de Cristian Petru Balan
Un "superb violonist" (James Laredo), "un artist foarte impresionant" (Radu Lupu), "uimitor, strălucitor" (revista The Strad), "un flamboiant dirijor, cu largi mișcări dominante, mânuind bagheta...
Serenade (For Music)
de Oscar Wilde
The western wind is blowing fair Across the dark AEgean sea, And at the secret marble stair My Tyrian galley waits for thee. Come down! the purple sail is spread, The watchman sleeps within the town,...
RIDDLE (ghicitoare)
de Vlad Martinescu
Riddle There is darkness, And darkness is my heart. There is pain, And pain is my soul. There is sadness, And sadness is my meaning. There is death, And death is my life. I’m the collector of all...
Waiting
de Robert Frost
Afield at dusk What things for dream there are when specter-like, Moving amond tall haycocks lightly piled, I enter alone upon the stubbled filed, From which the laborers\' voices late have died, And...
a feast of friends
de Jim Morrison
Wow, I�m sick of doubt Live in the light of certain South Cruel bindings The servants have the power Dog men and their mean women Pulling poor blankets over our sailors I�m sick of dour...
Portrait of a Lady
de T.S. Eliot
Thou hast committed— Fornication: but that was in another country, And besides, the wench is dead. The Jew of Malta. I AMONG the smoke and fog of a December afternoon You have the scene arrange...