Friendship is a priceless gift that can not be bought or sold, But its value is far greater than a mountain made of gold For gold is cold and lifeless, it can neither see not hear, And in the time of trouble it is powerless to cheer It has no ears to listen, no heart to understand, It can not bring you comfort or reach out a helping hand So when you ask God for a gift, be thankful if He sends Not diamonds, pearls or riches, but the love of real true friends.
After Phil mentioned Michelangelo writing some poetry in his Michelangelo thread, I went searching for some other works by him. This is one that I came across that I liked.
CELESTIAL LOVE - Michelangelo Buonarroti (1475-1564)
O mortal thing enthralled these longing eyes When perfect peace in thy fair face I found; But far within, where all is holy ground, My soul felt Love, her comrade of the skies: For she was born with God in Paradise; Nor all the shows of beauty shed around This fair false world her wings to earth have bound: Unto the Love of Loves aloft she flies. Nay, things that suffer death, quench not the fire Of deathless spirits; nor eternity Serves sordid Time, that withers all things rare. Not love but lawless impulse is desire: That slays the soul; our love makes still more fair Our friends on earth, fairer in death on high.
Hmmmmmm, seems like I've got this thread all to myself.
But who knows, one of you might find a poem that you like out of what I post.
Here is one by Robert Frost.
The Door in the Dark
In going from room to room in the dark, I reached out blindly to save my face, But neglected, however lightly, to lace My fingers and close my arms in an arc. A slim door got in past my guard, And hit me a blow in the head so hard I had my native simile jarred. So people and things don't pair any more With what they used to pair with before.
I think we all have probably heard of this one by Robert Frost. It is one of my favorites though.
THE ROAD NOT TAKEN
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.
I deleted this poem on this forum and resubmitted it here; it seemed more appropriate.
I wrote this poem a few years ago and it has been published although not in its entirety.
When Angels Sing
Ubiquitous within a sovereign temple Aside a lake of living crystal Resides one on a numinous throne Whose divine face no human has known Whose courtyards are outer laced and interwoven By retem, mustard tree, and olive garden Where mansions blaze a golden pearl Ornate with hyacinth, jasper, topaz, and beryl Where by His thunderous word without hesitation Seraphim, Cherubim, and Archangels obey Him Faithfully focused bound by supreme command To sing their twilight song To a desert minded world; tellurian
At the speed of thought Inside the Great Nebula just past Rigel Through Orion’s belt with fervent vigil they travel To where one once called the morning star Cross bound – now dwells His annals bound now to hells bowels Until at last They reach the Four Winds camp Who with reverence bow as they pass Honoring not the Angelic cast But the sacred song they possess Of Love and Death – Hope and Pain A Sword of Damocles – and Life Serene
Then jubilant in one triumphant psalm Each adding life to that spiritual song They begin passionately soul kissed by vibrato As every living being acknowledges their arrival By gazing above hearing that hallowed magnificat While for a half hour heaven is silently dormant Absolute symphonic, rejoice soave tenors, and noble sopranos Who are warmly upheld by bass, baritone, and alto Who reveal con fuoco with a hint of mesto A celestial welcome home opus dividing all Gods loyal
For the requiem mass who chose not to go After the sea of faithful were hasten joyful Blood curtailing cries echoed behind Wailing, “Forgive Us!” As they, the requiem mass, fail into temporal quietus An image so fearfully dreadful That no scarlet pen would ever tempt to bear Only that a multitude, for a time, rests now unaware So the earth for a thousand years can finally sleep For all of the Shabbat’s she could not keep And the shade maker, devoid of all light, Whose silhouette brightens even the dark lantern Is chained due to being alone To ponder his haughty endeavors For there exists not one living soul to sway Only his creation of rubble, death, and miasmal decay