Feelings poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best Feelings poems ever written. Read all poems about Feelings.
"Am I, at bottom, that fervent little Spanish Catholic child who chastised herself for loving toys, who forbade herself the enjoyment of sweet foods, who practiced silence, who humiliated her pride, who adored symbols, statues, burning candles, incense, the caress of nuns, organ music, for whom Communion was a great event? I was so exalted by the idea of eating Jesus's flesh and drinking His blood that I couldn't swallow the host well, and I dreaded harming the it. I visualized Christ descending into my heart so realistically (I was a realist then!) that I could see Him walking down the stairs and entering the room of my heart like a sacred Visitor. That state of this room was a subject of great preoccupation for me. . . At the ages of nine, ten, eleven, I believe I approximated sainthood. And then, at sixteen, resentful of controls, disillusioned with a God who had not granted my prayers (the return of my father), who performed no miracles, who left me fatherless in a strange country, I rejected all Catholicism with exaggeration. Goodness, virtue, charity, submission, stifled me. I took up the words of Lawrence: "They stress only pain, sacrifice, suffering and death. They do not dwell enough on the resurrection, on joy and life in the present." Today I feel my past like an unbearable weight, I feel that it interferes with my present life, that it must be the cause for this withdrawal, this closing of doors. . . I am embalmed because a nun leaned over me, enveloped me in her veils, kissed me. The chill curse of Christianity. I do not confess any more, I have no remorse, yet am I doing penance for my enjoyments? Nobody knows what a magnificent prey I was for Christian legends, because of my compassion and my tenderness for human beings. Today it divides me from enjoyment in life."
"As June walked towards me from the darkness of the garden into the light of the door, I saw for the first time the most beautiful woman on earth. A startling white face, burning dark eyes, a face so alive I felt it would consume itself before my eyes. Years ago I tried to imagine true beauty; I created in my mind an image of just such a woman. I had never seen her until last night. Yet I knew long ago the phosphorescent color of her skin, her huntress profile, the evenness of her teeth. She is bizarre, fantastic, nervous, like someone in a high fever. Her beauty drowned me. As I sat before her, I felt I would do anything she asked of me. Henry suddenly faded. She was color and brilliance and strangeness. By the end of the evening I had extricated myself from her power. She killed my admiration by her talk. Her talk. The enormous ego, false, weak, posturing. She lacks the courage of her personality, which is sensual, heavy with experience. Her role alone preoccupies her. She invents dramas in which she always stars. I am sure she creates genuine dramas, genuine chaos and whirlpools of feelings, but I feel that her share in it is a pose. That night, in spite of my response to her, she sought to be whatever she felt I wanted her to be. She is an actress every moment. I cannot grasp the core of June. Everything Henry has said about her is true."
4ever my friend you will always be
And you'll always be the number 1 girl to me
I know we've known each other 4 so long
And the friendship we've built has always been strong
Love is the salt, in the life-meal
If you taste it unsalted, many times hurt you feel
Love is something real, you cant pretend
Music: breathing of statues. Perhaps:
silence of paintings. You language where all language
ends. You time
standing vertically on the motion of mortal hearts.
In the evening, when he's got the time to spend with me,
He goes and falls asleep watching TV,
Is it because we're now a wee bit old,
And our feelings for each other have perhaps grown cold,
life is life, however it would go
love is love, no matter what would occur
love is growing more with every hearts beat
feelings of my heart could never change
Even in a person
most times indifferent
to things around him
they waken feelings
I sit beside the hearth fire of your words,
A temporary light by feelings heard.
Beyond the dark rim, winter's killing fields
Encroach upon a heart by memory sealed.
The Feelings of the Heart should be clean and pure, we must strive to make the feelings endure;
God knows the feelings that we have, always seek the feelings that Jesus has.
Feelings to loved ones is true and high one;
One quite unique is feeling of love in humans;
Humans live by feelings of love in life ever;
Ever love feelings keep all better in health!
Feelings are more powerful than inciting words
Feelings are deadlier than the bloody swords
Feelings know no ceilings, no boundaries
Just like the eagles roaming the prairies
These feelings i nurse, i can't explain,
They say men don't cry but am in pain,
Tears trying to drop from my eyes, i can't hold it again,
Pouring out my heart isn't like me, am i insane?
But these feelings feel like spring
The old man mutters to himself
On a flagstone in a burned-out field
That is what one particular man and his fate muttered
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