Lady Of Prince |Poem|

Lady of Prince

Image source: https//WWW.imageinu.com

If thou know not, O thou fairest amongst women,

Thy face with nature's own hand beauty

Those lips that love's own hand make

For thy love is better than art.

With April's first-born flowers are rare , lo!

Thy gentle heart; thyself the rose of sha-on, and lily of valleys.

Thou are precious among the lilies,

My love look fresh, and death to me subscribes

How beautiful are thy eyes as sweet flower

O prince's love!

O, Let me, true in love, but truly write,

And then believe me, My love is fair.

Thy lips are like honey, and thy speech is comely,

And said unto me...Write!

For these love are true and faithful.

My beloved is mine, and I am his;

Most worthy comfort, now my greatest love,

Best of dearest and mine only care.

Let her kiss me with the kisses of clean soul,

That for myself I praised;

Of perfect love being dream.

Therefore desire, thou the virgin love thee,

And yet comely true be said I lover her dearly.

Let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice

Whom my soul loveth.

Behold, thou art fair, my love;

If I lose thee, my life against our God.

If they sleep, thy picture in my sight;

Or if I sleep, my heart waketh;

I must each day say o'ver the very same,

My lady of Prince, I love thee.

Behold, thou loveth fair; My beloved

Oh! old Dec's remember every where,

Come, My beloved, let us lodge in the meadow,

Let us build our love in diamond

And place my merit heart for you;

In rest as own to sleep on arms

Also our bed is green.

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Writing a romantic lines its doesn't means reality is beautiful one. Its more beautiful when words come from heart and continue writing about without distance. Yet still there many more to come up, keep reading and find the finest poem for you.

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I cannot say I remember

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Grief |Poem|

Grief /Poem Image credit: https//www. image search.com This is how I have dealt With grief most of my life sharing it on paper instead of humans It feels safe that way, words don't feign sympathy and paper doesn't stutter It makes the grief feel projected As if happening to another person, Not me, never me, never now As if I am a mere character in a distant story As if the grief will end after the full stop, after the end As if fiction will drown reality And reality seem fictitious But of late, of late the fiction seems to be a maze A maze I have spent too long in A period longer than forever And now, it is too late to get out of and for human touch. If you like this poem or have anything to share, comment below or write at briambredeemson700@gmail.com

YEARNING |POEM|

Picture source:www.IndiaToday.com Many gorgeous solid surface hath passed by; Where all the graceful flowers are blowing, Where all the wings are glorifying the skies, where all the dragon-flies are hopping with the river, When all the lands are praying for him. The season had succeeded to change I can't put the picture of what's that..? I'm speechless as a stone. As I filled the foreign land, I see the film was forming into night and thundering; Clothes were torn as dirty As I stood there by the bed; Under the foreign skies In winter hail and summer tempest. Besides this country; Sing thy ole school sweet. O, I remember thy mother repast luscious; The smile of dear on thy eyes The gentle cry of boys on my thine ears The memories of the thy brothers and sisters are precious; Yet unduty for my homeland, We put on hold, your dream-your-lives. Thou left thy mothers and thy fathers Thee left behind thy brothers and...

Thabaan Kabin

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