Each week I will feature one poem suggested by deviants with some information about the poem and the poet. I will also include links to two other suggested poems which you can read if you wish.
Please
I pray thee, leave, love me no more,
Call home the heart you gave me!
I but in vain that saint adore
That can but will not save me.
These poor half-kisses kill me quite—
Was ever man thus servèd?
Amidst an ocean of delight
For pleasure to be starvèd?
Show me no more those snowy breasts
With azure riverets branchèd,
Where, whilst mine eye with plenty feasts,
Yet is my thirst not stanchèd;
O Tantalus, thy pains ne'er tell!
By me thou art prevented:
'Tis nothing to be plagued in Hell,
But thus in Heaven tormented.
Clip me no more in those dear arms,
Nor thy life's comfort call me,
O these are but too powerful charms,
And do but more enthral me!
But see how patient I am grown
In all this coil about thee:
Come, nice thing, let my heart alone,
I cannot live without thee!
I'm afraid I was unable to find any information on this poem.
Michael Drayton was born in 1563 and was an English poet. He was favoured in the court of Queen Elizabeth I but rudely rejected by her successor, James I. He died 23 December 1631.

We Are the LightI thought raw truth might move them.
I thought
sincerity might make a difference.
But against an onslaught of misunderstanding there is no defense.
I'm called names.
I'm told I can't defend myself...
even while I'm fighting back.
Why do I continue?
Because that is what I do,
that's what we do.
When the people out there tell us we are unworthy
- *DerelictVampire
Suggested by ~airehkah
I thought raw truth might move them.
I thought…
sincerity might make a difference.
But against an onslaught of misunderstanding there is no defense.
I'm called names.
I'm told I can't defend myself...
even while I'm fighting back.
Why do I continue?
Because that is what I do,
that's what we do.
When the people out there tell us we are unworthy
of compassion, respect—
when they tell us we are nothing
and don't deserve to even be here,
do we crawl up and die?
Do we cut our precious selves in defiance?
The only choice,
the only reason to continue,
is the truth:
We are all the children of Creation,
and despite those who can offer nothing
but a reason to die,
a reason to hurt what we are,
a reason to leave
and never show our brilliance,
we have something to offer; we have beauty within us.
And we must fight and fight and fight
and show it to all who doubt.
Artist's comments:
"*"
This poem was submitted August 20, 2011.
*DerelictVampire has been on deviantART since May 16, 2011.
News
#Poetry-To-The-Masses is looking for affiliates. If you are a writing-related group which accepts poetry, please send us a request.
P2TM is offering 50 points to whoever has suggested the most poems or song lyrics by March 1 2013. More info: [link]
~QuenWrites is writing an anthology and would like to feature work by poets on deviantART. More info: [link]
If you have any poetry-related news or are running a contest accepting poetry entries, please send a message to ~PoetryToTheMasses.









Yeah, I noticed that, I was sure I'd fixed it, but apparently not! Fixed now
It's fine. That always happens to me.