The little love-god lying once asleep (Sonnet 154)

The little love-god lying once asleep (Sonnet 154) by William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare

1564 – 1616

The little love-god lying once asleep
Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand,
Whilst many nymphs that vow’d chaste life to keep
Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand
The fairest votary took up that fire
Which many legions of true hearts had warm’d;
And so the general of hot desire
What sleeping by a virgin hand disarm’d.
This brand she quenched in a cool well by,
Which from Love’s fire took heat perpetual,
Growing a bath and healthful remedy
For men diseased; but I, my mistress’ thrall,
Came there for cure, and this by that I prove,
Love’s fire heats water, water cools not love.

About

William Shakespeare was an English playwright, poet and actor. He is widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world’s pre-eminent dramatist

The little love-god lying once asleep (Sonnet 154) by William Shakespeare
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Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nothing Gold Can Stay poem by Robert Frost

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Robert Frost. “Nothing Gold Can Stay.”

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening Poem by Robert Frost

By Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.   

His house is in the village though;   

He will not see me stopping here   

To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   

To stop without a farmhouse near   

Between the woods and frozen lake   

The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   

To ask if there is some mistake.   

The only other sound’s the sweep   

Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.

The Mirage Machine by Lord Bechard

The Mirage Machine by Lord Bechard

The Mirage Machine
by Rev Lord CM Bechard

I. The Spark Beneath the Skull

In the temple of bone where the neurons hum,
Where the pulse of eternity softly drums,
There stirs a storm, unseen but bright—
A prism birthed from the absence of light.

A whisper crawls through synaptic seas:
“Suffer not from the world, but from your dreams.”
And lo! the fabric of reason tears,
Spilling colors that never were there.

The mind begins its mirrored climb,
Through the fractal folds of thought and time,
Where nightmare, memory, myth, and muse
Collide like gods with no excuse.

II. The Kingdom of What-If

The dream unfurls—electric vines,
A thousand worlds in tangled lines,
Each one born of an anxious spark,
A rumor blooming in the dark.

There—castles built from phantom fears,
Their bricks are made of unseen tears,
Where kings of doubt wear crowns of smoke,
And laughter burns where silence spoke.

The rivers flow with thoughts untrue,
Reflecting skies of borrowed blue,
And every tree bears fruit of dread,
That feeds the ghosts inside your head.

O kingdom vast! O mirror made!
By our own hand, by our own blade,
We forge the iron of despair,
And breathe illusions into air.

III. The Dream Architect

Upon the horizon—a figure stands,
Blueprints drawn in trembling hands,
A weaver of what-might-have-been,
The maker of pain that’s never seen.

He murmurs in pulses, soft, divine:
“I am your fear. You are my spine.
I borrow flesh from your belief,
I am the shadow of your grief.”

He bends the cosmos with his art,
Each thought a universe torn apart,
And from imagination’s womb,
He builds the walls that become our tomb.

IV. The Shattering

Then lightning struck the mental veil,
And truth rode through on a solar gale—
A comet voice of clarity spoke:
“The cage you fear is your own smoke.”

Galaxies cracked, the dream was torn,
The mirage collapsed where it was born.
The endless suffering, all so grand,
Melted to sand in my open hand.

The serpent of panic hissed and fell,
Dissolved beneath a golden bell,
And silence—pure, unbound, complete—
Kissed the dust beneath my feet.

V. The Awakening Beyond Thought

I rose through the rippling, radiant field,
Where the wounds of imagination healed,
Where every monster’s face revealed
The frightened child it tried to conceal.

Each doubt became a blooming sun,
Each fear—a truth already won,
And the void, no longer black and vast,
Sang: “The future’s fiction, not forecast.”

Through starlit corridors of mind,
I left my old self far behind,
The dreamer woke within the dream,
And drank from time’s kaleidoscope stream.

VI. The Return to Flesh

Back in the skull-cave—breathing, still,
The heart resumed its subtle will,
And all the chaos, all the flame,
Were fragments dancing in my name.

Reality sat, serene and mild,
Like a mother watching her restless child.
And I laughed, I wept, I finally knew—
The worst I feared was never true.

For imagination is both sword and key,
The chain, the fire, the alchemy—
It wounds, it heals, it blinds, it frees,
It’s hell, it’s art, it’s divinity.

VII. The Final Flame

Now, when darkness claims my sight,
I paint the void in liquid light.
No longer slave to phantom pain,
I dance with madness in the rain.

For Seneca’s voice still hums in me:
“Suffer not from reality,
But from the mind’s own masquerade—
A phantom war the heart has made.”

So I breathe in peace, exhale the lie,
And wink at the stars in the knowing sky,
For imagination’s not my chain—
It’s just the mirror of my brain.

And when it breaks, I clearly see:
The dream was never over me.

Listen to The Episode

Listen to the Mirage Machine on the Poetic Flows podcast

What A Rose Can Say Poem by Margie Driver

What A Rose Can Say Poem by Margie Driver

A rose can say I love you and want you to be mine,
A rose can say I thank you for being so very kind,
A rose can say congratulations, whatever the occasion may be,
A rose can say I miss you and wish you were here with me,
A rose can say I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you in any way,
A rose can say get well soon, May God bless you today,
A rose can say I wish you happiness, and the best for you each day.
A rose can say farewel when someone goes away,
A rose can say hello, I’m thinking of you today,
There’s just so many wonderful things that a rose can say,
A rose can say goodbye when a love one is laid to rest,
No matter what there is to say, a rose can say it best.

I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You Poem by Pablo Neruda

I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You Poem by Pablo Neruda

I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it’s you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.

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