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On Shakespeare

What needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones,
The labor of an age in pilèd stones,
Or that his hallowed relics should be hid
Under a star-ypointing pyramid?
Dear son of Memory, great heir of fame,
What need’st thou such weak witness of thy name?
Thou in our wonder and astonishment
Hast built thyself a live-long monument.
For whilst to th’ shame of slow-endeavouring art,
Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart
Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book
Those Delphic lines with deep impression took,
Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving,
Dost make us marble with too much conceiving;
And so sepúlchred in such pomp dost lie,
That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

poem by John Milton (1630)
Added by Dan Costinaş
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Corruption Bill

Parliament enacts
The Anticorruption Bill.
Prisoners make fence

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Photography, painting or poetry those are just extensions of me, how I perceive things, they are my way of communicating.

quote by Viggo Mortensen
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Eternity

He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sun rise

poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1793)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love —
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,

[...] Read more

poem by Edgar Allan Poe (1849)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Deer

Deer are gentle and graceful
And they have beautiful eyes.
They hurt no one but themselves,
The males, and only for love.
Men have invented several
Thousand ways of killing them.

poem by Kenneth Rexroth from A Bestiary (1956)
Added by Dan Costinaş
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