"Love that killed me" – 6897 rezultate
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Bb.mcneill
l love my little rooster, and my rooster loves me Gonna cherish that chicken 'neath a green bay tree Little rooster go Cock-a-doodle-doo Doodle-doo doodle-doo And l love my little hen, and my hen, she loves me
1 poezii, 0 proze
GKGabriel J. Khazini
Broken glass still echoes in his heart as broken mirrors, Heart that once danced love and fear... And thus all puppets sing the song that hurt the puppeteer
2 poezii, 0 proze
DBDaniela Maria Benea
I was born in Cluj-Napoca on the 11th of September 1970. I have learned to read, write and love over there. In 1991 I moved to Brisbane, Australia. I hold a bachelor degree in International Business. Later on I followed a couple of courses in Psychology. I mainly write in Romanian, that's what makes me feel closer to the places I left. However I do write in English, sometimes it feels like the words find me better this way, or maybe it's the other way around. I read many English books, biographies, poetry, etc.
19 poezii, 0 proze
Hancu 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
WWWilliam Wordsworth
William Wordsworth was born on April 17, 1770 in Cockermouth, Cumberland, in the Lake District. His father was John Wordsworth, Sir James Lowther\'s attorney. The magnificent landscape deeply affected Wordsworth\'s imagination and gave him a love of nature. He lost his mother when he was eight and five years later his father. The domestic problems separated Wordsworth from his beloved and neurotic sister Dorothy, who was a very important person in his life. With the help of his two uncles, Wordsworth entered a local school and continued his studies at Cambridge University. Wordsworth made his debut as a writer in 1787, when he published a sonnet in The European Magazine . In that same year he entered St. John\'s College, Cambridge, from where he took his B.A. in 1791. During a summer vacation in 1790 Wordsworth went on a walking tour through revolutionary France and also traveled in Switzerland. On his second journey in France, Wordsworth had an affair with a French girl, Annette...
16 poezii, 0 proze
Don McLean
Famed for -- and ultimately defined by -- his perennial \"American Pie,\" singer/songwriter Don McLean was born October 2, 1945, in New Rochelle, NY. After getting his start in the folk clubs of New York City during the mid-\'60s, McLean struggled for a number of years, building a small following through his work with Pete Seeger on the Clearwater, a sloop that sailed up and down the eastern seaboard to promote environmental causes. Still, McLean was primarily singing in elementary schools and the like when in 1970 he wrote a musical tribute to painter Vincent Van Gogh; the project was roundly rejected by a number of labels, although MediaArts did offer him a contract to record a number of his other songs under the title Tapestry. The album fared poorly, but Perry Como earned a hit with a cover of the track \"And I Love Her So,\" prompting United Artists to pick up McLean\'s contract. He returned in 1971 with American Pie; the title track, an elegiac eight-and-a-half-minute folk-pop...
1 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
Percy Bisshe Shelley
Percy Bysshe Shelley was born August 4, 1792, the first of seven children born to Timothy Shelley, a country squire who became a baronet in 1815 upon the death of his father, Sir Bysshe Shelley. Percy attended Sion House Academy from 1802-4 and then Eton, where the young intellectual and idealist encountered the public school system of \"fagging,\" in which upperclass boys tyrannized their juniors, who ran errands and acted as servants. Afterwards Shelley equated school with prison. Although University College, Oxford, where he enrolled in 1810, came as something of a relief, within a few months he was expelled along with his friend Thomas Jefferson Hogg for refusing to acknowledge or deny authorship of a pamphlet entitled The Necessity of Atheism. His father visited him in London after his expulsion, insisting that he renounce his friend Hogg and his beliefs, which included atheism, vegetarianism, free love, and political radicalism; Shelley refused. The resulting estrangement from...
22 poezii, 0 proze
Percy Bisshe Shelley
Percy Bysshe Shelley was born August 4, 1792, the first of seven children born to Timothy Shelley, a country squire who became a baronet in 1815 upon the death of his father, Sir Bysshe Shelley. Percy attended Sion House Academy from 1802-4 and then Eton, where the young intellectual and idealist encountered the public school system of \"fagging,\" in which upperclass boys tyrannized their juniors, who ran errands and acted as servants. Afterwards Shelley equated school with prison. Although University College, Oxford, where he enrolled in 1810, came as something of a relief, within a few months he was expelled along with his friend Thomas Jefferson Hogg for refusing to acknowledge or deny authorship of a pamphlet entitled The Necessity of Atheism. His father visited him in London after his expulsion, insisting that he renounce his friend Hogg and his beliefs, which included atheism, vegetarianism, free love, and political radicalism; Shelley refused. The resulting estrangement from...
0 poezii, 0 proze
GDGeorges Dor
Georges Dor (March 10, 1931 - July 24, 2001) (born Georges-Henri Dore) was a Québécois author, composer, playwright, singer, poet, translator, and theatrical producer and director. Born in Drummondville, Dor undertook a career in radio as a disk jockey and news director. He worked for Radio-Canada, the national Canadian broadcaster, where he became a director for the Evening News. He wrote poems for many years, but in 1964 he was encouraged by friends to compete in an amateur singing competition. He began singing professionally in early 1965, and released his first album in 1966. One of the songs from this album, his composition "La Manic", whose lyrics were a love letter written by a construction worker on the Manicouagan power project, became the most successful record ever by a Quebec chansonnier. He continued to perform as a singer until 1972, and to record until 1978. After that he worked mainly in the theatre and in television, producing and writing plays and téléromans. He also...
3 poezii, 0 proze
My farewell
de Crisan Iulian
Long lost city, what is left of you? Where is your grace and glamour? Where is your shining? Lost… And then I saw it, in His right hand The One sitting on the throne, a book Written inside and out,...
The city that killed my lover
de Iris Barbulescu
Străzile își curgeau josul înspre mine, și dintr-o dată totul devenise cibernetic și fără legatură, ca o grămada de fire nesecurizate, aruncate în creștetul cuiva, într-o dimineață ploioasă. Așa îmi...
Ghost
de Alin Niculae
\"...and my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor shall be lifted Nevermore.\" on a sweet scented summer day with the ashes falling from the sky the ashes he once loved for they...
The Passionate Pilgrim
de William Shakespeare
I. WHEN my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutor\'d youth, Unskilful in the world\'s false forgeries. Thus vainly...
Heal The World
de Michael Jackson
There\'s a place in your Heart and I know that is love and this place could be much brighter than tomorrow and if you really try you\'ll find there\'s no need to cry in this place you\'ll feel...
Sonnet XLII
de William Shakespeare
That thou hast her, it is not all my grief, And yet it may be said I loved her dearly; That she hath thee, is of my wailing chief, A loss in love that touches me more nearly. Loving offenders, thus I...
Sonnet LXXIII
de William Shakespeare
That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin\'d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou...
Come back home
de Florin DeRoxas
When you left, You broke my heart, You let me dreaming Of what is not. You left the memories Of you, A love that I see It wasn’t true. Now I am lost, I feel alone, So, please, my baby, Come back home.
Mowing
de Robert Frost
There was never a sound beside the wood but one, And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground. What was it it whispered? I knew not well myself; Perhaps it was something about the heat of the...
Miracles
de Coana Loenida
It really is a matter of perspective. The morning air is still dim and cool the birds I can hear almost seem to be whispering about something that has yet to happen, and if it does they will sing and...