Bootstrap Framework 3.3.6

[~ Le Saint X ~]

evo, ovako pocinje moj
BLOG
NA
MY SPACE-U




This poem has been emblazoned in my mind ever since 1998 when I first heard it on my English Literature classes!
It changed the way I looked on poetry and writing...As Spenser, I think it is the most beautiful thing in the world ( and the utter love proof to someone) to immortalize the person throught verses

-------------------------------------

"One day I wrote her name upon the strand"
by Edmund Spenser

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.
Vain man, said she, that you in vain assay
A mortal thing so to immortalize!
For I myself shall like to this decay,
And eek my name be wiped out likewise.
Not so (quoth I), let baser things devise
To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:
My verse your virtues rare shall eternize,
And in the heavens write your glorious name;
Where, when as death shall all the world subdue,
Our love shall live, and later life renew.

[~ Le Saint X ~]

et toq!

[Azdaja]

.....

Somewhere someone is thinking of you. Someone is calling you an angel. This person is using celestial colors to paint your image. Someone is making you into a vision so beautiful that it can only live in the mind. Someone is thinking of the way your breath escapes your lips when you are touched. How your eyes close and your jaw tightens with concentration as you give pleasure a home. These thoughts are saving a life somewhere right now. In some airless apartment on a dark, urine stained, whore lined street, someone is calling out to you silently and you are answering without even being there. So crystalline. So pure. Such life saving power when you smile. You will never know how you have cauterized my wounds. So sad that we will never touch. How it hurts me to know that I will never be able to give you everything I have.



Mozda ovo ne bi trebalo da bude ovde,ali...meni se svidja,pa sam ga tu "turila"

[Hys.]

Originally posted by Swanheart
Shakespear-Sonet CXVI

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Moj omiljen, barem sto se tice poruke

[~ Le Saint X ~]

Originally posted by Nanny Ogg

Originally posted by Swanheart
Shakespear-Sonet CXVI

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Moj omiljen, barem sto se tice poruke

Da...

Love is not love which alters....
it is AN EVER FIXED MARK!

beautiful

[emo_haos_]

ONE ART

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

elizabeth bishop

predivna i meni bliska pesma

[pthalo]

Ghost - Emily Saliers

There’s a letter on the desktop
That I dug out of a drawer
The last truce we ever came to
In our adolescent war
And I start to feel the fever
From the warm air through the screen
You come regular like seasons
Shadowing my dreams

And the Mississippi’s mighty
But it starts in Minnesota
At a place that you could walk across
With five steps down
And I guess that’s how you started
Like a pinprick to my heart
But at this point you rush right through me
And I start to drown

And there’s not enough room
In this world for my pain
Signals cross and love gets lost
And time passed makes it plain
Of all my demon spirits
I need you the most
I’m in love with your ghost
I’m in love with your ghost

Dark and dangerous like a secret
That gets whispered in a hush
(don’t tell a soul)
When I wake the things I dreamt about you
Last night make me blush
(don’t tell a soul)
And you kiss me like a lover
Then you sting me like a viper
I go follow to the river
Play your memory like a piper

And I feel it like a sickness
How this love is killing me
I’d walk into the fingers
Of your fire willingly
And dance the edge of sanity
I’ve never been this close
I’m in love with your ghost

Unknowing captor
You never know how much you
Pierce my spirit
But I can’t touch you
Can you hear it
A cry to be free
Oh I’m forever under lock and key
As you pass through me

Now I see your face before me
I would launch a thousand ships
To bring your heart back to my island
As the sand beneath me slips
As I burn up in your presence
And I know now how it feels
To be weakened like Achilles
With you always at my heels

This bitter pill I swallow
Is the silence that I keep
It poisons me I can’t swim free
The river is too deep
Though I’m baptized by your touch
I am no worse than most
In love with your ghost

You are shadowing my dreams
(in love with your ghost)
(in love with your ghost)
(in love with your ghost)

[BellyButton]

Zashto sam ja mislio da ce lezbama omiljeni Shakespeare-ov sonet biti onaj u kome se pesnik suprotstavlja petrarkistichkom konceptu savrsheno lepe zene?
"My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun..."

Niko ga josh ne spomenu...

[~ Le Saint X ~]

Love's Secret - Blake

Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind doth move
Silently, invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart,
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears.
Ah! she did depart!

Soon after she was gone from me,
A traveller came by,
Silently, invisibly:
He took her with a sigh.

[Mr.Ja]

Ne mogu da verujem da se nikome ne svidja ovaj:

CXXX

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red, than her lips red:
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound:
I grant I never saw a goddess go,
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet by heaven, I think my love as rare,
As any she belied with false compare.

Meni je on nekako najlepshi. Naravno i CXVI je super.

[Speculum Columbae]

Šekspir <3
Marlou <3
Kid <3
Čoser <3

[AngraMaina]

Hosanna to the highest. Joy betide
The heavenly bridegroom and his holy bride.
Let heav'n above be filled with songs,
Let earth triumph below;
For ever silent be those tongues that can be silent now.
You rocks and stones, I charge you all to break
Your flinty silence if men cease to speak;
You that possess the sacred art
Or now or never show it,
Plead not your Muse is out of heart:
Here's that creates a poet.
Be ravish'd, earth, to see this contract driv'n
'Twixt sinful men and reconcil'd heav'n.
Dismount, you quire of angels, come,
With men your joys devide;
Heav'n never showed so sweet a bridegroom,
Nor earth so fair a bride.

-- Anonymous

[Speculum Columbae]

Omg...Henry Purcell. I think I am going to faint...

[Waldorf]

"My Boy Jack", Rudyard Kipling

“Have you news of my boy Jack?”
Not this tide.
“When d’you think that he’ll come back?”
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.

“Has any one else had word of him?”
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.

“Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?”
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind —
Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.

Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide!



Uvek se naježim od ove pesme i razloga njenog postojanja.

[Speculum Columbae]

Ja volim Roberta Luisa Stivensona. Njegova dečja poezija i poezija uopšte je tako melanholična.

[Waldorf]

"THE FLEA", John Donne


MARK but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is ;
It suck'd me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be.
Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead ;
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pamper'd swells with one blood made of two ;
And this, alas ! is more than we would do.

O stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, yea, more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is.
Though parents grudge, and you, we're met,
And cloister'd in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that self-murder added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.

Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it suck'd from thee?
Yet thou triumph'st, and say'st that thou
Find'st not thyself nor me the weaker now.
'Tis true ; then learn how false fears be ;
Just so much honour, when thou yield'st to me,
Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee

[bas bleu]

a vajat, dante?
(btw, ja sam zbog ove pesme studirala engleski.)

they flee from me that sometime did me seek

they flee from me that sometime did me seek
with naked foot, stalking in my chamber.
i have seen them gentle, tame, and meek,
that now are wild and do not remember
that sometime they put themself in danger
to take bread at my hand; and now they range,

busily seeking with a continual change.
thanked be fortune it hath been otherwise
twenty times better; but once in special,
in thin array after a pleasant guise,
when her loose gown from her shoulders did fall,
and she me caught in her arms long and small;
therewithall sweetly did me kiss
and softly said, "dear heart, how like you this?"

it was no dream: i lay broad waking.
but all is turned thorough my gentleness
into a strange fashion of forsaking;
and i have leave to go of her goodness,
and she also, to use newfangleness.
but since that i so kindly am served
i would fain know what she hath deserved.

sir thomas wyatt

[Markiza]

A Slumber did my Spirit Seal

A slumber did my spirit seal;
I had no human fears:
She seemed a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.

No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth's diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees.


WILLIAM WORDSWORTH