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Best Poems Written by Peter Rangus

Below are the all-time best Peter Rangus poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Sonnet No 3

I love you silently in every night,
I love you fiercely through the fires red,
I love you brightly with my heart alight
I love you bravely on the roads ahead.

I love your morning eyes of blur and sleep,
I love your stubborn dance when we contend,
I love your trust when you in front me weep,
I love your will to make myself amend.

I love our walks and smiles in nature's streets,
I love our fights when none of us is mad,
I love our vestal games wrapped in white sheets,
I love our ease when one of us is sad,
I love our jokes, I love our downs and tops,
I love when time is ours and for us stops.

Ljubljana, 28.3.2016

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A Kiss

And now this kiss means everything,
My heart is warm, so is my chest,
And in my ears your sweet words cling,
And sing and sing,
Sweet melodies of days long passed.

All thoughts i have converge in you,
Just like all roads find end in Rome,
One kiss and to the clouds you drew,
I flew, I flew,
I now reside there, call them home.

How little needed sparks of mine,
And now I eat no more nor drink,
I only sit and think of eyes divine,
and whine and whine,
How life without you darkly stink.

Details | Peter Rangus Poem

The View Out of My Window

Question persists in the back of my head,
What do I see when through windows I look?
I see the nature, its hilltops, a brook,
Glideth like snake to horizon ahead.

I see the people, old fisherman’s face,
Girl is so joyful to hop there and run,
Hair is of hers into ponytail done,
While she delights in her butterfly chase.

I see the weather that's whistling its way,
Rays are such artists, so skilful when paint,
Hills with the colours and shadows which faint,
Playing the flute to this vivid display.

I see the lines of a silhouette blear,
That over view and its wonderful theme,
Hover in front or perhaps in the rear,
In such a way that the girl, hills and stream,
Which are so joyful and so full of cheer,
Only as subtile reflection mine seem.

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La Vie En Rose

Cherries blooming in past springs,
Their fragrance clings and clings,
That was la vie en rose.

You were dancing just beneath,
Hair crowned in flower-wreath,
I saw la vie en rose.

Then I'd hold you with my arms,
Get filled with all your charms,
Your charms and danced the night,
Oh what a sight,
How it hangs there despite,
All the time passed,
Hurtful days which seemed vast!
Now I can no longer see,
How life again will be,
La vie en rose.

Now I seat in comfy chair,
And dream about your cherry hair,
Our dances now are long ago,
Our cherry tree embraced the snow.

Nonetheless I dream that day,
When you and I were gay,
I dream la vie en rose.

In my head we still are young,
Our kisses tongue to tongue,
We live la vie en rose.

But my dream is quickly dead,
When coo-coo voice her's spread,
Her voice that kills my dreams,
And now it seems,
That without you all grey,
My life will stay,
All the way, till my death,
But when my dreams begin,
Then i see your grin,
La vie en rose.

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Blue-Eyed Ghazal

When you'll leaves us please look up my sweetest Beatrice, and simply look in her blue eyes ,
Say I love her, say I breath her say I'll never cease, while you look in her blue eyes,
I can talk of Beatrice, I can sing of her for hours,
If you find her where she dwells, I know there must be peace, cherish look in her blue eyes,
Sing: »He gave you all his love not merely grant you lease!«, love the look in her blue eyes ,
Can you aid a lonely soul? Dear is that within you powers?
You will surely find her, she's so soft and warm as fleece, when you look in her blue eyes,
Careful be for Peter Saint wrote doleful word: »decease«, on the look in her blue eyes,

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The Moonlight Bell

Dum -- -- -- Dum -- -- -- Dum -- -- --, the moonlight bell,
Beyond the city noise of cars I overhear the moonlight bell. 

Warm fatherly advice and smell of fresh baked pies,
The sister's hug and even my first cries endear the moonlight bell.

Sweet childish kiss she gave with fear in her blue eyes,
And youthful sweets, retrieves in my forgotten ear, the moonlight bell.

Old roads between green plains and hills where grapevines rise,
They softly reappear whenever I rehear the moonlight bell.

The city tears in my brown eyes now advertise,
That where rock rolls and where it ends there I will hear the moonlight bell.

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Pomegranate Garden

Outside the city where the pomegranates grow,
Rays of the sun there in yellow red glow,
Grass wilting brown which is fanced by the stone,
Whispers to crickets: »Our time here runs slow.« 

Outside the city where the pomegranates throne,
Whistles are born in the shadows they've grown,
Water is scarce and by hot sun consumed,
Pomegranate's taste still to all men is known.

Outside the city where the pomegranates bloomed,
You were and I by our sweet love perfumed,
Problems in city were locked far away,
We were by moment so joyous consumed.

Outside the city where the pomegranates say,
»Moment has passed dear, and she went astray.«
I'm in theirs shadows in warmest July,
Wondering what caused our love to decay.

Outside the city where the pomegranates die,
I'm standing up throwing my youth awry,
Story is shifting to city aglow,
Pomegranate garden I wish you good-by.

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A Scottish Girl

Oh have you ever seen old green Scottish heights?
The hills and Marilyns echo William's rights,
Loch's water is still and calm as monks of yore,
When it seeps through hillsides in its tranquil rites.
And that my dear is you and your aspects fair.

The newborn grass of Argyll is vestal floor,
Unspoiled, pristine when it cherish Scottish shore,
And then there are castles, rooks and roman wall,
That on vestal floor are built and background bore.
And that my dear is you and your flaxen hair.

You are unique for you coalesce it all,
Your looks are prudent, your eyes are off the doll,
Your manners of daytime vanish for our nights,
Though a zephyr fresh you do not gently sprawl,
And that my dear is Scotland and it's fresh air.

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Angel of Death

In the darkest nights beyond the clouds of thunder,
I know the moon is shining still,
Somewhere far, yet still. It dwells and glitters yonder,
Darkest nights our sun can't kill.

I'm an angel of death who glistens moonlight on thee,
I'm the moon you can not see.
Cunning foxtrot I dance to sceletonic cornet,
I'm the odds you want to bet.

I offer sweets and peace and youthful carrousels,
On order of His bells I sing His final spells,
I'm only an angel of death not death himself,
I do not kill but guide you to the nine of hells.

And take you not my sweets and peace,
You'll ride the carrousel with me,
For what He wants I can't release,
He wants you dead then dead you'll be!

Clear your throat before you cough,
Or better yet; clear your heart.
Words are last the ones I hear,
Now pay your debt, we depart!

Foxtrot, tango, quick quick slow,
Those are dance that I know,
Violins, cornets and bass
Play the jazz and blues for us,
Cry or smile or sleep or fuss,
Doesn't matter I'm the star!
We are dancing in my show!
Coming hell to you we are!
Step and turn we spin and walk,
Gancho, kick and dirty talk,
We spin, we're flying, gliding through,
And boom! The gates of hell! 
Your dead and I'm to dance anew.

Remember! Moon is shining still,
I'm dances, jazz without my will,
Simply your final breath,
I'm an angel of death!

Details | Peter Rangus Poem

A Forgetful Hat

A morning it was shining red,
And mister president's black hat,
Was siting on his solemn hair,
As it was not at all aware,
That it's a hat of a fat rat.

By using crown to form its speech,
»Good morning!« Said the hat to each,
Of man that passed its rat called Leech,
And if it had a hand or two,
I'm pretty sure it would bow too.

The hat was eating not that day,
If it was lucky, so to say,
The rat will fed him with some spray,
It did not know although that rat,
Must always have a shining hat.

Hat has not seen a rat or swine,
Its not a pig it is a swine,
That doesn't wear a hat, yet still,
The hat does work without its will,
Without its pride and right to dine.

The rabbit always laughed about,
Those hats which never worn are out,
Now hats have risen. Nevermore,
Will they be greeting like before,
If they are worn they'll rudely shout.

The rats will eat the rabbit scum,
And hats will later on succumb,
For who will laugh when rabbit's gone,
To make them see and then act on,
Remember hats are poor and dumb.

The night it will be shining red,
And mister president's black hat,
Will still be sitting on his hair,
As it will never be aware,
That it's a hat of a fat rat.