Sedentary
My seat
pleases me, but not
to stand and walk.
A hard matter
is pleasure.
Poems on the topic: pleasure
Poems on the topic “pleasure” on Poets.by.
July 20
Thoughts sandwich with pure lust and beauty's in action when the beasts attempt stasis. Thorns are allowed to exist. The green beans steaming are themselves cousin to the good news they've been trying to give away. And whose body doesn't tremble with good night kisses, pebble relaxation confronting the amoeboid calendar.
The pictures we've been showing one another, the photographs of large numbers of people serve no purpose. As if we weren't private enough already. Too sensitive to the cut of our own diaries to bask in the blank pages. Let me lead you gently behind your next thought.
Lessons
Unless I learn to ask no help
From any other soul but mine,
To seek no strength in waving reeds
Nor shade beneath a straggling pine;
Unless I learn to look at Grief
Unshrinking from her tear-blind eyes,
And take from Pleasure fearlessly
Whatever gifts will make me wise--
Unless I learn these things on earth,
Why was I ever given birth?
The Promise
I WILL not love you for my duty,
Nor for all your treasure,
But I will love because of beauty,
And because of pleasure.
The boy that I shall bear will be a love-child.
Conceived in holy blindness,
I give him to the world who shall be reconciled
To loving-kindness.
Since I no longer love for duty,
Nor for all man's treasure,
And since I bear the child to Beauty
Because of pleasure.
Return of Pleasure
I THOUGHT there was no pleasure in the world
Because of my fears.
Then I remembered life and all the words in my language.
And I had courage even to despise form.
I thought, " I have skill to make words dance.
To clap hands and to shake feet,
But I will put myself, and everything I see, upon the page.
Why should I reject words because of their genealogy?
Or things, because of their association?
Why should I scorn a bus rather than a ship? "
Counsel of Arrogance
If I were God, I would find equal treasure,
In human work, in courage, and in pleasure.
And I would whisper to the captive soul,
That all these things should be in sweet control.
That man should be from birth-bed to the grave,
Not always busy, not always brave.
That he should gather me the flower of idleness,
And the seed-holding cup of perfect happiness.
Spoken to Adonis
Have you observed that one can measure
Poetic worth of words in terms of pleasure?
Honey and milk have been sweet food so long,
These words are naturalized in Song.
And from my joy in you the time is ripe
That I find lyric value for your pipe.
What tender pleasure do your lips invoke,
Moving in gracious meditation as you smoke!
The Walk in the Woods
High Heaven is insecure.
Give me my paradise while these warm arms endure.
Come, my Love! let us walk in this brake.
Where I can see you sleep, and watch you wake.
So much of pleasure, for Mortality's poor sake.
Sonnet 75: So are you to my thoughts as food to life
So are you to my thoughts as food to life,
Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground;
And for the peace of you I hold such strife
As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found.
Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon
Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure;
Now counting best to be with you alone,
Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure:
Sometime all full with feasting on your sight,
And by and by clean starved for a look;
Possessing or pursuing no delight,
Save what is had, or must from you be took.
Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,
Or gluttoning on all, or all away.
Sonnet 52: So am I as the rich, whose blessed key
So am I as the rich, whose blessed key,
Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure,
The which he will not every hour survey,
For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure.
Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare,
Since, seldom coming in that long year set,
Like stones of worth they thinly placed are,
Or captain jewels in the carcanet.
So is the time that keeps you as my chest,
Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide,
To make some special instant special-blest,
By new unfolding his imprison'd pride.
Blessed are you whose worthiness gives scope,
Being had, to triumph; being lacked, to hope.
Lines Written In Early Spring
I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.
Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.
The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:--
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
Native Moments.
NATIVE moments! when you come upon me—Ah you are here now!
Give me now libidinous joys only!
Give me the drench of my passions! Give me life coarse and rank!
To-day, I go consort with nature’s darlings—to-night too;
I am for those who believe in loose delights—I share the midnight orgies of young men;
I dance with the dancers, and drink with the drinkers;
The echoes ring with our indecent calls;
I take for my love some prostitute—I pick out some low person for my dearest friend,
He shall be lawless, rude, illiterate—he shall be one condemn’d by others for deeds
done;
I will play a part no longer—Why should I exile myself from my companions?
O you shunn’d persons! I at least do not shun you,
Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem
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