Get Your Premium Membership

Best Famous Intoxicated Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Intoxicated poems. This is a select list of the best famous Intoxicated poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Intoxicated poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of intoxicated poems.

Search and read the best famous Intoxicated poems, articles about Intoxicated poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Intoxicated poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:
Written by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi | Create an image from this poem

I Was Dead

i was dead i came alive i was tears i became laughter

all because of love when it arrived my temporal life from then on changed to eternal

love said to me you are not crazy enough you don’t fit this house

i went and became crazy crazy enough to be in chains

love said you are not intoxicated enough you don’t fit the group

i went and got drunk drunk enough to overflow with light-headedness

love said you are still too clever filled with imagination and skepticism

i went and became gullible and in fright pulled away from it all

love said you are a candle attracting everyone gathering every one around you

i am no more a candle spreading light i gather no more crowds and like smoke i am all scattered now

love said you are a teacher you are a head and for everyone you are a leader

i am no more not a teacher not a leader just a servant to your wishes

love said you already have your own wings i will not give you more feathers

and then my heart pulled itself apart and filled to the brim with a new light overflowed with fresh life

now even the heavens are thankful that because of love i have become the giver of light

 

- Rumi. Ghazal number 1393, translated by Nader Khalili

 



Written by Kahlil Gibran | Create an image from this poem

The Beauty of Death XIV

 Part One - The Calling


Let me sleep, for my soul is intoxicated with love and 
Let me rest, for my spirit has had its bounty of days and nights; 
Light the candles and burn the incense around my bed, and 
Scatter leaves of jasmine and roses over my body; 
Embalm my hair with frankincense and sprinkle my feet with perfume, 
And read what the hand of Death has written on my forehead. 


Let me rest in the arms of Slumber, for my open eyes are tired; 
Let the silver-stringed lyre quiver and soothe my spirit; 
Weave from the harp and lute a veil around my withering heart. 


Sing of the past as you behold the dawn of hope in my eyes, for 
It's magic meaning is a soft bed upon which my heart rests. 


Dry your tears, my friends, and raise your heads as the flowers 
Raise their crowns to greet the dawn. 
Look at the bride of Death standing like a column of light 
Between my bed and the infinite; 
Hold your breath and listen with me to the beckoning rustle of 
Her white wings. 


Come close and bid me farewell; touch my eyes with smiling lips. 
Let the children grasp my hands with soft and rosy fingers; 
Let the ages place their veined hands upon my head and bless me; 
Let the virgins come close and see the shadow of God in my eyes, 
And hear the echo of His will racing with my breath. 



Part Two - The Ascending


I have passed a mountain peak and my soul is soaring in the 
Firmament of complete and unbound freedom; 
I am far, far away, my companions, and the clouds are 
Hiding the hills from my eyes. 
The valleys are becoming flooded with an ocean of silence, and the 
Hands of oblivion are engulfing the roads and the houses; 
The prairies and fields are disappearing behind a white specter 
That looks like the spring cloud, yellow as the candlelight 
And red as the twilight. 


The songs of the waves and the hymns of the streams 
Are scattered, and the voices of the throngs reduced to silence; 
And I can hear naught but the music of Eternity 
In exact harmony with the spirit's desires. 
I am cloaked in full whiteness; 
I am in comfort; I am in peace. 



Part Three - The Remains


Unwrap me from this white linen shroud and clothe me 
With leaves of jasmine and lilies; 
Take my body from the ivory casket and let it rest 
Upon pillows of orange blossoms. 
Lament me not, but sing songs of youth and joy; 
Shed not tears upon me, but sing of harvest and the winepress; 
Utter no sigh of agony, but draw upon my face with your 
Finger the symbol of Love and Joy. 
Disturb not the air's tranquility with chanting and requiems, 
But let your hearts sing with me the song of Eternal Life; 
Mourn me not with apparel of black, 
But dress in color and rejoice with me; 
Talk not of my departure with sighs in your hearts; close 
Your eyes and you will see me with you forevermore. 


Place me upon clusters of leaves and 
Carry my upon your friendly shoulders and 
Walk slowly to the deserted forest. 
Take me not to the crowded burying ground lest my slumber 
Be disrupted by the rattling of bones and skulls. 
Carry me to the cypress woods and dig my grave where violets 
And poppies grow not in the other's shadow; 
Let my grave be deep so that the flood will not 
Carry my bones to the open valley; 
Let my grace be wide, so that the twilight shadows 
Will come and sit by me. 


Take from me all earthly raiment and place me deep in my 
Mother Earth; and place me with care upon my mother's breast. 
Cover me with soft earth, and let each handful be mixed 
With seeds of jasmine, lilies and myrtle; and when they 
Grow above me, and thrive on my body's element they will 
Breathe the fragrance of my heart into space; 
And reveal even to the sun the secret of my peace; 
And sail with the breeze and comfort the wayfarer. 


Leave me then, friends - leave me and depart on mute feet, 
As the silence walks in the deserted valley; 
Leave me to God and disperse yourselves slowly, as the almond 
And apple blossoms disperse under the vibration of Nisan's breeze. 
Go back to the joy of your dwellings and you will find there 
That which Death cannot remove from you and me. 
Leave with place, for what you see here is far away in meaning 
From the earthly world. Leave me.
Written by Ralph Waldo Emerson | Create an image from this poem

Bacchus

BRING me wine but wine which never grew 
In the belly of the grape  
Or grew on vine whose tap-roots reaching through 
Under the Andes to the Cape  
Suffer'd no savour of the earth to 'scape. 5 

Let its grapes the morn salute 
From a nocturnal root  
Which feels the acrid juice 
Of Styx and Erebus; 
And turns the woe of Night 10 
By its own craft to a more rich delight. 

We buy ashes for bread; 
We buy diluted wine; 
Give me of the true  
Whose ample leaves and tendrils curl'd 15 
Among the silver hills of heaven 
Draw everlasting dew; 
Wine of wine  
Blood of the world  
Form of forms and mould of statures 20 
That I intoxicated  
And by the draught assimilated  
May float at pleasure through all natures; 
The bird-language rightly spell  
And that which roses say so well: 25 

Wine that is shed 
Like the torrents of the sun 
Up the horizon walls  
Or like the Atlantic streams which run 
When the South Sea calls. 30 

Water and bread  
Food which needs no transmuting  
Rainbow-flowering wisdom-fruiting  
Wine which is already man  
Food which teach and reason can. 35 

Wine which Music is ¡ª 
Music and wine are one ¡ª 
That I drinking this  
Shall hear far Chaos talk with me; 
Kings unborn shall walk with me; 40 
And the poor grass shall plot and plan 
What it will do when it is man. 
Quicken'd so will I unlock 
Every crypt of every rock. 

I thank the joyful juice 45 
For all I know; 
Winds of remembering 
Of the ancient being blow  
And seeming-solid walls of use 
Open and flow. 50 

Pour Bacchus! the remembering wine; 
Retrieve the loss of me and mine! 
Vine for vine be antidote  
And the grape requite the lote! 
Haste to cure the old despair; 55 
Reason in Nature's lotus drench'd¡ª 
The memory of ages quench'd¡ª 
Give them again to shine; 
Let wine repair what this undid; 
And where the infection slid 60 
A dazzling memory revive; 
Refresh the faded tints  
Recut the ag¨¨d prints  
And write my old adventures with the pen 
Which on the first day drew 65 
Upon the tablets blue  
The dancing Pleiads and eternal men. 
Written by Claude McKay | Create an image from this poem

On a Primitive Canoe

 Here, passing lonely down this quiet lane, 
Before a mud-splashed window long I pause 
To gaze and gaze, while through my active brain 
Still thoughts are stirred to wakefulness; because 
Long, long ago in a dim unknown land, 
A massive forest-tree, ax-felled, adze-hewn, 
Was deftly done by cunning mortal hand 
Into a symbol of the tender moon. 
Why does it thrill more than the handsome boat 
That bore me o'er the wild Atlantic ways, 
And fill me with rare sense of things remote 
From this harsh land of fretful nights and days? 
I cannot answer but, whate'er it be, 
An old wine has intoxicated me.
Written by Constantine P Cavafy | Create an image from this poem

The City

 WHAT domination of what darkness dies this hour,
And through what new, rejoicing, winged, ethereal power
O’erthrown, the cells opened, the heart released from fear?
Gay twilight and grave twilight pass. The stars appear
O’er the prodigious, smouldering, dusky, city flare.
The hanging gardens of Babylon were not more fair
Than these blue flickering glades, where childhood in its glee
Re-echoes with fresh voice the heaven-lit ecstasy.
Yon girl whirls like an eastern dervish. Her dance is
No less a god-intoxicated dance than his,
Though all unknowing the arcane fire that lights her feet,
What motions of what starry tribes her limbs repeat.
I, too, firesmitten, cannot linger: I know there lies
Open somewhere this hour a gate to Paradise,
Its blazing battlements with watchers thronged, O where?
I know not, but my flame-winged feet shall lead me there.
O, hurry, hurry, unknown shepherd of desires,
And with thy flock of bright imperishable fires
Pen me within the starry fold, ere the night falls
And I am left alone below immutable walls.
Or am I there already, and is it Paradise
To look on mortal things with an immortal’s eyes?
Above the misty brilliance the streets assume
A night-dilated blue magnificence of gloom
Like many-templed Nineveh tower beyond tower;
And I am hurried on in this immortal hour.
Mine eyes beget new majesties: my spirit greets
The trams, the high-built glittering galleons of the streets
That float through twilight rivers from galaxies of light.
Nay, in the Fount of Days they rise, they take their flight,
And wend to the great deep, the Holy Sepulchre.
Those dark misshapen folk to be made lovely there
Hurry with me, not all ignoble as we seem,
Lured by some inexpressible and gorgeous dream.
The earth melts in my blood. The air that I inhale
Is like enchanted wine poured from the Holy Grail.
What was that glimmer then? Was it the flash of wings
As through the blinded mart rode on the King of Kings?
O stay, departing glory, stay with us but a day,
And burning seraphim shall leap from out our clay,
And plumed and crested hosts shall shine where men have been,
Heaven hold no lordlier court than earth at College Green.
Ah, no, the wizardy is over; the magic flame
That might have melted all in beauty fades as it came.
The stars are far and faint and strange. The night draws down.
Exiled from light, forlorn, I walk in Dublin Town.
Yet had I might to lift the veil, the will to dare,
The fiery rushing chariots of the Lord are there,
The whirlwind path, the blazing gates, the trumpets blown,
The halls of heaven, the majesty of throne by throne,
Enraptured faces, hands uplifted, welcome sung
By the thronged gods, tall, golden-coloured, joyful, young.


Written by Robert Burns | Create an image from this poem

249. Sappho Redivivus: A Fragment

 BY all I lov’d, neglected and forgot,
No friendly face e’er lights my squalid cot;
Shunn’d, hated, wrong’d, unpitied, unredrest,
The mock’d quotation of the scorner’s jest!
Ev’n the poor súpport of my wretched life,
Snatched by the violence of legal strife.
Oft grateful for my very daily bread
To those my family’s once large bounty fed;
A welcome inmate at their homely fare,
My griefs, my woes, my sighs, my tears they share:
(Their vulgar souls unlike the souls refin’d,
The fashioned marble of the polished mind).


In vain would Prudence, with decorous sneer,
Point out a censuring world, and bid me fear;
Above the world, on wings of Love, I rise—
I know its worst, and can that worst despise;
Let Prudence’ direst bodements on me fall,
M[ontgomer]y, rich reward, o’erpays them all!


Mild zephyrs waft thee to life’s farthest shore,
Nor think of me and my distress more,—
Falsehood accurst! No! still I beg a place,
Still near thy heart some little, little trace:
For that dear trace the world I would resign:
O let me live, and die, and think it mine!


“I burn, I burn, as when thro’ ripen’d corn
By driving winds the crackling flames are borne;”
Now raving-wild, I curse that fatal night,
Then bless the hour that charm’d my guilty sight:
In vain the laws their feeble force oppose,
Chain’d at Love’s feet, they groan, his vanquish’d foes.
In vain Religion meets my shrinking eye,
I dare not combat, but I turn and fly:
Conscience in vain upbraids th’ unhallow’d fire,
Love grasps her scorpions—stifled they expire!
Reason drops headlong from his sacred throne,
Your dear idea reigns, and reigns alone;
Each thought intoxicated homage yields,
And riots wanton in forbidden fields.
By all on high adoring mortals know!
By all the conscious villain fears below!
By your dear self!—the last great oath I swear,
Not life, nor soul, were ever half so dear!
Written by Victor Hugo | Create an image from this poem

The Son In Old Age

 ("Ma Regina, cette noble figure.") 
 
 {LES BURGRAVES, Part II.} 


 Thy noble face, Regina, calls to mind 
 My poor lost little one, my latest born. 
 He was a gift from God—a sign of pardon— 
 That child vouchsafed me in my eightieth year! 
 I to his little cradle went, and went, 
 And even while 'twas sleeping, talked to it. 
 For when one's very old, one is a child! 
 Then took it up and placed it on my knees, 
 And with both hands stroked down its soft, light hair— 
 Thou wert not born then—and he would stammer 
 Those pretty little sounds that make one smile! 
 And though not twelve months old, he had a mind. 
 He recognized me—nay, knew me right well, 
 And in my face would laugh—and that child-laugh, 
 Oh, poor old man! 'twas sunlight to my heart. 
 I meant him for a soldier, ay, a conqueror, 
 And named him George. One day—oh, bitter thought! 
 The child played in the fields. When thou art mother, 
 Ne'er let thy children out of sight to play! 
 The gypsies took him from me—oh, for what? 
 Perhaps to kill him at a witch's rite. 
 I weep!—now, after twenty years—I weep 
 As if 'twere yesterday. I loved him so! 
 I used to call him "my own little king!" 
 I was intoxicated with my joy 
 When o'er my white beard ran his rosy hands, 
 Thrilling me all through. 
 
 Foreign Quarterly Review. 


 




Written by Omar Khayyam | Create an image from this poem

Would that the lover (the true believer) were intoxicated

Would that the lover [the true believer] were intoxicated
the whole year, mad, absorbed with wine, covered
with dishonor! For, when we have sound reason, chagrin
assails us on all sides; but when we are in wine, well,
let come what will!

Book: Reflection on the Important Things