Best Byron Poems
In Love, Our Romance Flows In Kissing Streams,
Poets Tribute Series, fourth poet, Lord Byron
Claim I, thy wondrous heart into sweet dreams,
And in that soft glowing realm we slow dance;
In Love, our romance flows in kissing streams,
As Cupid's well-shot arrows took no chance.
From this teeming earth we dwell in pleasures,
While life lays golden bounty at our feet;
We wake to dawn's glory- its great treasures,
Finding welcome cheer in all that we meet.
Sky awards us its most heavenly blues,
Nature cries out its joy to our pairing,
Flowers parade forth their brightest of hues,
Our faithful Love is in this, our Sharing.
In our dreams we are eternally slow-dancing.
In our bedroom, eternally true-romancing.
We are bound as kind souls forever true,
As a bird pair, that in blue heavens soars;
You touched my hand and then deep Love I knew,
Triumphs beyond paradise's hidden shores.
This our great blessing, a gift preordained,
Its gleaming morns, as bright as shining dew,
May we this true bliss forever retain
Beauty, as our sweet longings we renew.
Come to me my Love- let thy hand seek mine
Allow yet again, lips that beg thy touch,
For within thy glow, I too can soft shine,
Souls at peace, cherishing life very much.
In our dreams we are eternally slow-dancing.
In our bedroom, eternally true-romancing.
Robert J. Lindley, 11-01-2019
Romanticism, ( Poet's Tribute Series, Lord Byron )
( The poem is based on the biographical details with quotes of Lord Byron the renaissance poet. The poem is Stand By Me appeal to the criticism of Byron being an outspoken, atheist and passionate poet)
By accident his left leg was twisted
Mary nursed it though he resisted.
A day came when Mary died and
Her dying words about him were at the end
“All for the love of the child, she nursed in lieu”
He said then, “I can put on a simple shoe”
He asked himself, “Why should I weep?
Her matchless spirit sweeps
In the shade of her bower
I remember the hours
We shall meet
In this rural retreat
Now we will see each other no more
One last look what we were before”
Pleasure became a pain to him
At the sight of people’s screams.
+++
January 21, 2015
Form: Rhyme
Fifth Place win
Contest: Stand By Me
Lord Byron—Genius Unchained
Primus-Supremus-Romanticus
George Gordon Noel Byron
Destiny in Missolonghi at 36
A soldier’s death.
Legendary immortality
Mega-accomplishment
For him the best
And now he’s at rest.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
May 6, 2015 (Double Dactyl)
While browsing in a second hand book store
The blue cover of your book caught my eye.
Your first edition then guided my path
Into reading your wondrous words of love.
Quite new to the engagement of your works
I stood reading as near an hour flew by.
I became enthralled and mesmerized too.
Your classic speech bared salubrious style.
As the longing in your words permeate,
Your philosophy of life and living.
This be my pattern to which I succumb
Trying to emulate words of your song.
Trying to guild my words into flowing
Into gifts I never dreamed to possess.
I felt this magical pull emanate
To venerate psalms that dwell in my heart.
6-1-17
Blank Verse II - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Janice Canerdy
Shall I believe that you are not like me?
A dog is but a wolf no longer wild,
and though you are a faithful friend, I see,
you are four-footed like no human child,
my boy; and though you answer to the name
the same the brilliant poet reprobate,
there somewhere in my brain is the refrain:
each species God did separately create.
But Wallace fed by spoon his little pet
orangutan, and longed to take her home
to England’s soil, where Darwin’s tree upset
conventional belief. And I must own:
that when your gaze unblinking holds my eyes
I know our likeness cannot be despised.
I speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name;
There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame;
But the tear that now burns on my cheek may impart
The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart.
Too brief for our passion, too long for our peace,
Were those hours - can their joy or their bitterness cease?
We repent, we abjure, we will break from our chain, -
We will part, we will fly to - unite it again!
Oh! thine be the gladness, and mine be the guilt!
Forgive me, adored one! - forsake if thou wilt;
But the heart which is thine shall expire undebased,
And man shall not break it - whatever thou may'st.
And stern to the haughty, but humble to thee,
This soul in its bitterest blackness shall be;
And our days seem as swift, and our moments more sweet,
With thee at my side, than with worlds at our feet.
One sigh of thy sorrow, one look of thy love,
Shall turn me or fix, shall reward or reprove.
And the heartless may wonder at all I resign -
Thy lips shall reply, not to them, but to mine
?? ??????, ?? ????? ? ?? ???????? -
? ??????? ? ?????, ??? ?????? ??????.
?? ??????, ?? ?????? ?? ????, ????????
??? ??????? ?????, ???? ? ????? ???????.
????? ??????? ?????????? ??????? ??? ???,
? ???????? ???? ????????? ???.
??? ???? ?? ?????? - ?? ??????? ?? ?????
?? ???????, ??????????, ???? ????????
?????'????? ?????. ????? ???! ???????!
?, ??????? ???? ?? ???????? ????!
?, ??????, ??? ??????????. ?? ????? - ??????!
? ???? ????? ???? ??????????? ????,
? ???? ?????????. ??????????? ????
???????? ??????? ???????. ?? ?
??? ?????? ? ??????? ?? ???????? ????,
? ???? ? ????????. ??? ? ?? ?????!
???? ??? ????????????, ? ???? - ?? ???.
?? ?? ??????? ????? ???? ????????!
???, ??????????? ???? ?? ??? ?????? ?????.
?? ???????? ??????? ?????????? ????.
???? ????? ????, ?????? - ?? ?????. ? ????.
??????? ?? ???????. ????? ?? ??????!
??????????? ????????, ?? ??????? ????.
?? ????? ???? ???????? ?? ???? ????!
(?) Maryna Tchianova 2016
Honourably devoted to George Gordon Byron,
The UK, the US and Ukraine,
with deep respect for all the aforenamed literatures and faith in the Ukrainian nation through the thick and thin.
A Letter to Byron
There is honor, glory and fame in that precious name
Lord Byron graced this dark world with gifts pure
Never enough praise , never proper glory given to his name
A soft spirit with poet's mind , blessings and allure
Fate so cruel, so fleet "Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom"
"Away! we know that tears are vain" , love and life gone
Words, admiration and love , my weak heart has no more room
A poet so gifted his name and deeds proudly stand alone
"And thou - who tell'st me to forget", dare not another word
stay that ungrateful and wickedly slicing sharp retort
Unable seeing the fame of works, rivaling songs of any singing bird
or beauty and love in his prose , cannons in romance's last fort
05-21-2014
Byron greatly influenced my love of poetry.
Although my meager talents
are as a mere grain of sand on a great beach
welcoming Byron's gifts... Words within my write that are
in the three sets of quotation marks are short verses from his gift,
titled, "Oh! Snatched Away in Beauty's Bloom" are humbly added as
an admiring dedication to Byron's greatness..
Written for the contest, Letters to Poets Free Poetry Contest ,
by Monterey Sirak.
She was created of earth's lusty marrow,
lived amidst chimera and heather fields
breathing Byron essence & Dickinson fire,
there was madness in the poetry of her life
an atmosphere favorably self-aware
mundane was ne'er her cup of fancy
In death, she was found to be quite lucid
'tween exiled days and windswept expanses
of untrodden woodlands & lone seascapes,
perchance glimpse her twilit ambiance
whispering beyond breezes of conclusive
horizons void of derived worldly silhouettes
COLORIZE THE CLASSICS contest 10/2/16
Byron McGovern (true story 1900)
At Denowan near Goodooga,
lived Mc Govern so they say,
At a Church of England mission,
Aubrey lived there anyway,
now Byron McGovern got arrested,
Black Trackers they said sure,
in jail he was invested,
his tracks came to the door,
the murderer was cunning,
tiptoed to Byrons' camp,
pulled on Byrons' muddy boots,
tiptoe running, in his dance,
Frog Morton he had no chance,
foul murder it was done,
axed to death, the Emus wept,
bad signatures on the cheque book, one,
Byron sidestepped the gallows,
no death for murder him,
the forgers face was sallow,
slip knot got tight and grim,
and the corpse did swing a swing,
and justice came ashore,
some stupid bloody ding a ling ,
got his karma bloody sure....
Don Johnson
On Lord Byron
Far away from thistle and thorn
a genius and great poet was born
Lord Byron was his great name
making love with words his game
The world had him not very long
his verses danced like a song
Women swoon at his written charms
those chosen loved in his arms
He was born to many a woman bed
excesses raced in his wild head
Often crazy and without any cares
he juggled many hot love affairs
Fate lusted to grab him too soon
as he shown like the August moon
Sadness invaded his hectic life
in dying, he left his poor wife
Far away from thistle and thorn
a genius and great poet was born
Lord Byron was his great name
making love with words his game
Robert J. Lindley
06, 22, 1970
Note- Written so long ago. Edited today, shortened by two stanzas....
Lame and beautiful
He walked like a prince
With his eternal fever
In love with starry night skies
Which glowed in his dark eyes
I
There was a Roamer,he was deeply sick,
Debt to th'immenseness of his gift:
He has so power as to be weak,
They were so freely as to be not lift.
II
Thus his fate with bless could not be shift,
And the shade of morn colour'd his eyes:
Through their source the light was rift,
Though their iris were dread dries.
III
The surroundigs of his bold were gray's,
And the centre of his aim unsung;
To his hermous grave no one will cries,
To his height no stair- could has been rung.
IV
And Who is He? When he'll be sprung?
May someone knows where is his loom?
Whose wind will blow his bloodless lung?
The immortal strings, the Hand, the strum?
V
A lightings' path yet cleaves the gloom,
And unnamed swarms deeping the leak,
Alas! Shall now we fear his mark of doom,
While the face of Hope's- becoming lirk?
Or is this it, what has been seek?
An earthworm's home you wouldn't like
It's cold and damp and full of night
Still, It's where I am and can only be,
When I scribble and wiggle hope you see,
How hard to write immortal poetry,
While watching out for greedy birdies,
When rains wash me along the gutters,
Helplessly drowning, my heart flutters,
Suddenly over the gutter crawl,
And burrow into earth under garden wall,
In darkness may live, but full of light,
Fearing rain, but still scribble in delight,
In humility offer these poetic scribbles,
Penned with few words and lots of wiggles.
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
This is not my poem and
written by Lord Byron.
I have felt the love
I have felt the hate
I have felt the life leave my heart
I have felt the ones I loved betray me
I have felt ones care from afar
I have always wanted a few besides me
Without them I am nothing
Whether you are there from afar
Or walking by my side
Whether patting my back
Or giving me a tender kiss of life
I have been mocked with riches
And I tore myself down
"Life is going to hell" I said
As i crossed on to a dangerous path of life
But after today
Things have went my way
And nothing now feels wrong
The past is gone now
These times anew
But at least these times
I'll spend time with you
I was the voice of which could not be heard
I was the song which couldn't be sung
I was the one that went unnoticed
I was the bell that was un-rung
I was one of the lucky ones
I had my friends there all the way
To revive me from my aches and sorrows
Bringing back my true life
I noticed life was passing by
As life soared right by my side
I gathered all my strength and spread my wings
And now with life I fly
The Revival by Michael Byron Dale Hamilton