Browning Poems - Poems about Browning

Galaxy, heart erase, gaze tender, cold How do I love thee -- I cannot count the ways, for there are none. Not because the sun doesn't grace thy face with its brilliance, leaving the rays reflected back in a trance and even the shadows dancing as they trace thy golden reflection, guiding thoughts through galaxies tenderly gloved within thy gallant gaze no imagination can erase. Nor because the...

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Autumn faerie touched her wand to a yellow mum. The mum’s colors turned crispy and an October brown. Whether she retains her yellow next year is up to fate. Some mums do, others do not, I never know which I have. Autum faerie is aware, fully in the know, she rules October....

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote, and I quote: "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways." And then she proceeded to list as many as she could in fourteen lines, Telling her husband, Robert, and us, in the process, Just how deeply and fervently she loved him. But I would pose this query to Mrs. B., "Liz, dearie, Does being...

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N. Hawthorne encouraged us to do anything, something, (heroic?) even though life brings huge discouragement: "Tell me not, in mournful numbers, that life is but an empty dream ..." PSALM OF LIFE I had to pen something like poetry today It's World Poetry day, they say (internet ads) Yet today is over, on its way, where...

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Robert pouseo of Elizabeth Barrett B a poet until her death was to be He introduced the conversational in dramatique monologue truth to tell...

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To Elizbeth Barrett Browning invalidity from riding did bring Putting aside this tragic hurt she elope to marry her Robert...

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tis spring the brown lawns the naked branches on the trees brisk winds tickling ~ rays of sun dawning moisture to do on the ground horizonal viewed ~ hang on ground brown will soon turn green the surroundings this be winter's spring 3/27/22 Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022...

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The sand and sea were calling us ...

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How do I thee .let me give you praise How do I love thee,for your winsome ways; In these eyes still my bride ,and still Your wedding ring,I wear with pride; These many years of marriage cheer Two hearts as one,with love held dear; Each others secrets to confide, Needs and desires to never hide; Tribulations together bear Witness,these love-lines we share; How...

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(4.) As Midnight Hours Call In More Darkened Hosts Slow flows a river of doubt and regret foaming its swirling eddies and sad pits cavernous echoes one can not forget nor withstand jagged cuts and hardest hits! As sun retreats and night brings on its aches memories come to poison hearts and minds soaking sweats bring on miserable shakes and soon dance dark shadows...

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Famous poets dedication series, Part One I. O' Man Of Perishable Earth O' priest of golden sun where hides thy black heart Pray each day, dark deeds undone in light, great wisdom impart O' master of ink and pen where rests thy sought love Thy words given unto men as pearls fallen from above O' slave of perishable earth where flees thy precious time Thy...

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Against a browning hill oak trees' bleeding limbs are stretched; some drops release to softly fall some cling to dry encrusted scars. A few short months and we will walk beneath the springing trees marking their swords of thinnest green stabbing at the stars. And so, life seasons make their rounds in nature and in men the flower wilts,...

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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 every day's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for...

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Oh, to be in England Now that April's showers have gone And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, aware, Deep division or apalling apathy almost everywhere, Most do not applaud at funerals or turn their back, Do we not now have a premier posthumously promoted as semi-monarch after she was sacked Giving politicos too much credit...

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RUNAWAY LOVERS Sat Ba Barret restless in her room Drinking death in dark and gloom Tragedy seemed her last name Despite the books that were her fame Letters reached her by the score But one kissed paper touched her core Robert Browning made her wild Exuberance flared—she was a child A woman forty –heart on fire Now she had but one desire A partner for her...

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