[Misafir]

On Tenterhooks

Suspense seldom kills, but too often
stretched between the hooks, the cloth
drying in the sun so its weave might be straightened
rips in one section and the whole taut fabric,
so like a riveted drumskin or the canvas of a trampoline,
goes slack, its practical use over —
that anxiety which kept us searching the heavens,
wringing our hands, wiping our brows,
questioning the outcome,
only a matter of tension: that intangible
way of holding things we'd just as soon let go.

Dick Allen

[Misafir]

What I Love About You...

The sparkle in your eye,
The warmth of your skin.
Your breath on my neck,
That quivers within.

The touch of your hand,
The smell of your hair.
The kindness in your smile,
That strength in your stare.

Your kiss on my lips,
Your body near mine.
The stroke of your touch,
That feeling inside.

The sound of your voice,
Compassion in your embrace.
The serenity in your stride,
The power in your face.

The calming of your presence,
The beating of your heart.
The promise of tomorrow,
That we may never part.

The beauty of your kiss,
and that magic in your touch.
It is for all these reasons and more,
Why I love you so much.


- Averil Binetti -

[Misafir]

Nearer My God to Thee

• NEARER, my God, to Thee,
  Nearer to Thee!
  E'en though it be a cross
  That raiseth me;
  Still all my song shall be,
  Nearer, my God, to Thee,
  Nearer to Thee!
  
  Though like the wanderer,
  The sun gone down,
  Darkness be over me,
  My rest a stone;
  Yet in my dreams I'd be
  Nearer, my God, to Thee,
  Nearer to Thee!
  
  There let the way appear
  Steps unto Heaven,
  All that Thou send'st me
  In mercy given;
  Angels to beckon me
  Nearer, my God, to Thee,
  Nearer to Thee!
  
  Than, with my waking thoughts
  Bright with Thy praise,
  Out of my stony griefs,
  Bethel I'll raise;
  So by my woes to be
  Nearer, my God, to Thee,
  Nearer to Thee!
  
  
  Sarah Flower Adams

[Misafir]

Lovers and a Reflection

IN moss-prankt dells which the sunbeams flatter
(And heaven it knoweth what that may mean;
Meaning, however, is no great matter)
Where woods are a-tremble with words a-tween.
Thro' God's own heather we wonned together,
I and my Willie (O love my love):
I need hardly remark it was glorious weather,
And flitter-bats wavered alow, above;
Boats were curtseying, rising, bowing,
(Boats in that climate are so polite,)
And sands were a ribbon of green endowing,
And O the sun-dazzle on bark and bight!
Thro' the rare red heather we danced together
(O love my Willie,) and smelt for flowers:
I must mention again it was glorious weather,
Rhymes are so scarce in this world of ours:
By rises that flushed with their purple favors,
Thro' becks that brattled o'er grasses sheen,
We walked or waded, we two young shavers,
Thanking our stars we were both so green.
We journeyed in parallels, I and Willie,
In fortunate parallels! Butterflies,
Hid in weltering shadows of daffodilly
Or marjoram, kept making peacock eyes:
Song-birds darted about, some inky
As coal, some snowy (I ween) as curds;
Or rosy as pinks, or as roses pinky--
They reck of no eerie To-come, those birds!
But they skim over bents which the mill-stream washes,
Or hang in the lift 'neath a white cloud's hem;
They need no parasols, no goloshes;
And good Mrs. Trimmer she feedeth them.
Then we thrid God's cowslips (as erst His heather),
That endowed the wan grass with their golden blooms;
And snapt--(it was perfectly charming weather)--
Our fingers at Fate and her goddess-glooms:
And Willie 'gan sing--(Oh, his notes were fluty;
Wafts fluttered them out to the white-winged sea)--
Something made up of rhymes that have done much duty,
Rhymes (better to put it) of "ancientry":
Bowers of flowers encountered showers
In William's carol--(O love my Willie!)
Then he bade sorrow borrow from blithe tomorrow
I quite forget what--say a daffodilly.
A nest in a hollow, "with buds to follow,"
I think occurred next in his nimble strain;
And clay that was "kneaden" of course in "Eden"--
A rhyme most novel I do maintain:
Mists, bones, the singer himself, love-stories,
And all least furlable things got "furled";
Not with any design to conceal their glories,
But simply and solely to rhyme with "world."
O if "billows" and "pillows" and "hours" and "flowers,"
And all the brave rhymes of an elder day,
Could be furled together, this genial weather,
And carted or carried on wafts away,
Nor ever again trotted out--ah me!
How much fewer volumes of verse there'd be.
Charles S. Calverley

[Misafir]

Soul Like The Vastest Sea

Your soul is like the vastest sea
And mine a darting fish:
I lose myself within your love;
I live within your heart.

I breathe your love: it is my air,
My element, my world.
I know no other ambiance;
I have no other dream.

I know there is outside your love
A world of rocks and sand;
And I could live there, too, but oh!
How poor and thin each breath!

How rich my world, how beautiful,
Alive within your love,
Each moment filled with dancing light
Refracted through your eyes!

- Awodiya Oluwadamilare -