Poems (check it out)

ross18

ross18

Rohan Sanghavi
hey there guys...

i am starting with a new thread where in i am going to post all the poems

if you have some of them do post them...

take care...

here is the first one...



God Moves in a Mysterious Way

William Cowper
(1731-1800)​
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs,
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan his work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.
 
Because I Could Not Stop for Death

Emily Dickinson
(1830-1886)​
Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labour, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.
 
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You

Pablo Neruda
(1904-1973)​
I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel ray,
Stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who dies,
The only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you,
Love, in fire and blood.
 
I Have a Rendezvous With Death

Alan Seeger
(1888-1916)​

I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air -
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath -
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.

God knows 'twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where Love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear...
But I've a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous.
 
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My Tryst With Hope

Corroborate truth to emcompass reality!
Frugal sensibilities lie rather still -
On the outskirts of consciousness,
While I retrograde into my yesterday...
Fingers clenched, waiting in silence,
To be held and led to continuity.
The flute of ebbing realizations,
Tunes into the timbre of thoughts,
And I lie sombre, letting dusk float -
Into my vision of blurred acceptance.
They, on the other side slide along,
A certain trance manifesting itself -
In their looks that gaze at my form.
Perhaps oblivious or just unnerved,
By the solidarity of my timid steps!
Swords sometimes don't hurt as much,
As the syllables that are undone -
In the silence of sulking dreams.
They wouldn't step aside or let go,
Of the echoes that they reflected.
Sounds scattered across the horizon,
That separates me and my past.
I rush around for a lonely corner,
I strum an unknown chord again,
To play with a chance of possibility -
Of abandoning all hope that be!
But prone I was as I later discerned,
To the capacity that truth beholds,
For truth indeed does contain reality,
And somehow I have subsumed truth,
Ever since I have played presumptions -
To escape hope in the dark silence...
But consciousness kicks in quietly,
While the flute fades away at dawn.
And I continue my tryst with hope!
Maybe this is the very last strand...
 
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