Browse Items (235 total)

The dark is generous and it is patient and it always wins – but in the heart of its strength lies its weakness: one lone candle is enough to hold it back.
Love is more than a candle.
Love can ignite the stars

From – The Tales of Tiptoes Lightly
Edited extract from Chapter 43 – the illustrations are not included
© Copyright 2004 – Reg Down

The Heart Of A Woman

The Invitation, a poem by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know…

The Kiss
Sara Teasdale

Before you kissed me only winds of heaven
Had kissed me, and the tenderness of rain—
Now you have come, how can I care for kisses
Like theirs again?

I sought the sea, she sent her winds to meet me,
They surged about…

THE LADY OF THE LAKE

By Sir Walter Scott, Bart.

Written after seeing Millet’s World-Famous Painting

God made man in His own image,
in the image of God made He him. —Genesis.
Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans
Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,
The emptiness of ages in his…

The Melting of a Poem
by Conrad Martin

I am the moon
Radiant, elegant, graceful
Romantic, inspiring, guiding
People look up to me to guide them in soul-searching and to give advice
Admire my beauty
People on Earth look up to me for help or sheer delight
Everyone mingling, bound to…

To a lovely girl,
Who is the most beautiful woman in the world.
You are my Miss Universe,
The greatest honour that you deserve.

You are the most beautiful woman in the world.
You are a beauty from the heaven,
Like a flower that blossoms.
You…

The Overflowing Moon: A Powerful Full Moon Poem | Stories & Mindful Poems by Calvin Niles

The pure magic of her undying Hope

The Quiet World
By Jeffrey McDaniel

The Reasons You Are Beautiful

The Transparent Man

The Undying by Robert William Service

This is from me to you for someone very special to me whom we have filled in each others souls.

Those Winter Sundays -- Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear…