I know I wrote before about coming to love poems by Elizabeth Barrett Browning...always felt her sonnets were really meant for one person and when I read them it's like sneaking a peek at a very personal diary. But the more I write I find myself baring the core of who I am to the world so all can know the woman and the witch inside me.
How do I love thee? By Elizabeth Barrett Browning
XLIII
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,--I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Witchcraft by a Picture
by John Donne
I fix mine eye on thine, and there
Pity my picture burning in thine eye;
My picture drowned in a transparent tear,
When I look lower I espy.
Hadst thou the wicked skill
By pictures made and mard, to kill,
How many ways mightst thou perform thy will?
But now I have drunk thy sweet salt tears,
And though thou pour more I'll depart;
My picture vanished, vanish fears
That I can be endamaged by that art;
Though thou retain of me
One picture more, yet that will be,
Being in thine own heart, from all malice free.
How do I love thee? By Elizabeth Barrett Browning
XLIII
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,--I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Witchcraft by a Picture
by John Donne
I fix mine eye on thine, and there
Pity my picture burning in thine eye;
My picture drowned in a transparent tear,
When I look lower I espy.
Hadst thou the wicked skill
By pictures made and mard, to kill,
How many ways mightst thou perform thy will?
But now I have drunk thy sweet salt tears,
And though thou pour more I'll depart;
My picture vanished, vanish fears
That I can be endamaged by that art;
Though thou retain of me
One picture more, yet that will be,
Being in thine own heart, from all malice free.
- Last seen 1 day ago. Member since September 18, 2002.
- I'm a surreal skittle poet for 3,392 comments.
- My mood is , and quote is "Know Thyself and Be True".
- I am a woman from Texas (United States)
- When I'm not writing, I'm a Precert Analyst.
- Visit my homepage at www.msnusers.com/PriestessesofAvalon
- I am in the groups Erotic Desires
- I have 3,392 comments, 15 contests, 1 addline, 274 poems, 50 stories
My Poetry
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As thine eye fell upon mine,
How I enraptured thee by my wicked art9 lines, 1 comment, November 5 -
Lili sat at the table with a calm expression slapped to her face as the level of noise in the bar got to decibel of unbearable. She took a deep breath and smiled as her energy screamed 'look I'm safe and nice and human'.11 lines, 1 comment, November 5
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The windshield wipers whished rhythmically as Kyle navigated the winding road through central France. The rain had just gotten heavy within the last mile or so as he wondered for the hundredth time what he was doing here. H5 lines, November 5
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Through a rolling sea of pain
Boiling up from the abyss of creation;
My Stories
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The windshield wipers whished rhythmically as Kyle navigated the winding road through central France. The rain had just gotten heavy within the last mile or so as he wondered for the hundredth time what he was doing here. H
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Chapter One / Breton Region / Rennes / France 1356 / Anne lay gasping her last breaths. She wove her small hand into the forest foliage a885 lines, 5 comments, August 4, 2007. In 600-2000 words
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They rode quietly to the camp Thomas had set up before he had set off on his mission. He gently placed her next to the small fire pit.1297 lines, 2 comments, August 3, 2007. In 600-2000 words
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sidewinder on October 27I'm living in texas now
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Daoine : New name. on August 2I'm going to start a new name on AP and rewrite on some of my stories and also just need a fresh slate. See me under Wicdwitch.
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lovepoet on April 2Suddenly thought of you, or perhaps it was a dream; it's been too long. X
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Sylvyrwyng on January 29Just a note to let you know that I miss you and love you very much! hugs and smooshes
chryssa
