Citatepedia^®.com

We must not, however, be like the leaders of the great romantic revolt who, in their eagerness to get rid of the husk of convention, disregarded also the humane aspiration.

quote by Irving Babbitt
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Booker Washington Trilogy

I. A NEGRO SERMON:—SIMON LEGREE

(To be read in your own variety of negro dialect.)

Legree's big house was white and green.
His cotton-fields were the best to be seen.
He had strong horses and opulent cattle,
And bloodhounds bold, with chains that would rattle.
His garret was full of curious things:
Books of magic, bags of gold,
And rabbits' feet on long twine strings.
But he went down to the Devil.

Legree he sported a brass-buttoned coat,
A snake-skin necktie, a blood-red shirt.
Legree he had a beard like a goat,
And a thick hairy neck, and eyes like dirt.
His puffed-out cheeks were fish-belly white,
He had great long teeth, and an appetite.
He ate raw meat, 'most every meal,
And rolled his eyes till the cat would squeal.

His fist was an enormous size
To mash poor niggers that told him lies:
He was surely a witch-man in disguise.
But he went down to the Devil.

He wore hip-boots, and would wade all day
To capture his slaves that had fled away.
But he went down to the Devil.

He beat poor Uncle Tom to death
Who prayed for Legree with his last breath.
Then Uncle Tom to Eva flew,
To the high sanctoriums bright and new;
And Simon Legree stared up beneath,
And cracked his heels, and ground his teeth:
And went down to the Devil.

He crossed the yard in the storm and gloom;
He went into his grand front room.
He said, "I killed him, and I don't care."
He kicked a hound, he gave a swear;
He tightened his belt, he took a lamp,
Went down cellar to the webs and damp.
There in the middle of the mouldy floor
He heaved up a slab, he found a door —
And went down to the Devil.

[...] Read more

poem by Vachel Lindsay
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

King Solomon And The Queen Of Sheba

(A Poem Game.)

“And when the Queen of Sheba heard of the fame of Solomon, . . .
she came to prove him with hard questions.”

[The men’s leader rises as he sees the Queen unveiling
and approaching a position that gives her half of the stage.]

Men’s Leader: The Queen of Sheba came to see King Solomon.
[He bows three times.]
I was King Solomon,
I was King Solomon,
I was King Solomon.

[She bows three times.]
Women’s Leader: I was the Queen,
I was the Queen,
I was the Queen.

Both Leaders: We will be king and queen,
[They stand together stretching their hands over the land.]
Reigning on mountains green,
Happy and free
For ten thousand years.

[They stagger forward as though carrying a yoke together.]
Both Leaders: King Solomon he had four hundred oxen.

Congregation: We were the oxen.

[Here King and Queen pause at the footlights.]
Both Leaders: You shall feel goads no more.
[They walk backward, throwing off the yoke and rejoicing.]
Walk dreadful roads no more,
Free from your loads
For ten thousand years.

[The men’s leader goes forward, the women’s leader dances round him.]
Both Leaders: King Solomon he had four hundred sweethearts.

[Here he pauses at the footlights.]
Congregation: We were the sweethearts.

[He walks backward. Both clap their hands to the measure.]
Both Leaders: You shall dance round again,
You shall dance round again,
Cymbals shall sound again,
Cymbals shall sound again,
[The Queen appears to gather wildflowers.]

[...] Read more

poem by Vachel Lindsay
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Give That Up!

There is no gain one can claim with pain,
That remains the same...
Unchanged.
With a wish to rid it!

Give that up!
With a wish to rid it.
Give that up!
With a wish to rid it.
Give that up!
With a wish to rid it.
When too much of the stuff gets tough.

Give that up!
With a wish to rid it.
Give that up!
With a wish to rid it.
Give that up!
With a wish to rid it.
When too much of the stuff gets tough.
And you know you have had enough!

There is no gain one can claim with pain,
That remains the same...
Unchanged.
With a wish to rid it!

Give that up!
With a wish to rid it.
Give that up!
With a wish to rid it.
Give that up!
With a wish to rid it.
When too much of the stuff gets tough.
And you know you have had enough!

Just give that up!
When it gets too much...
And you know you have had enough!

Just give that up!
With a wish to rid it.
Give that up!
With a wish to rid it.
Give that up!
With a wish to rid it.
When too much of the stuff gets tough.
And you know you have had enough!

To live life you've got to live it...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Spirit of Elevation

What is it you wish...
You claim is there you wait for?
Hop aboard,
The Spirit of Elevation.
Separate yourself,
From those isolation days.
Get rid of devastating implementations.
Planted to erase,
The best of your well being...
Inside that's craved!

Hop aboard,
The Spirit of Elevation.
Replace your visions of limitation.
Remove any traces of it that sits.
To keep you in the midst of feared conflicts!

Get rid of it!
There is nothing to value,
To maintain such a grip.
Get rid of it!
Get rid of it!
There is nothing of it that benefits!
Get rid of it!
Get rid of it!
And delight in a higher consciousness.

Hop aboard,
The Spirit of Elevation.
Replace your visions of limitation.
Remove any traces of it that sits.
To keep you in the midst of feared conflicts!

Get rid of it!
There is nothing to value,
To maintain such a grip.
Get rid of it!
Get rid of it!
There is nothing of it that benefits!
Get rid of it!
Get rid of it!
And delight in a higher consciousness.

What is it you wish...
You claim is there you wait for?
Hop aboard,
The Spirit of Elevation.
Separate yourself,
From those isolation days.
Get rid of devastating implementations.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Third Monarchy, being the Grecian, beginning under Alexander the Great in the 112. Olympiad.

Great Alexander was wise Philips son,
He to Amyntas, Kings of Macedon;
The cruel proud Olympias was his Mother,
She to Epirus warlike King was daughter.
This Prince (his father by Pausanias slain)
The twenty first of's age began to reign.
Great were the Gifts of nature which he had,
His education much to those did adde:
By art and nature both he was made fit,
To 'complish that which long before was writ.
The very day of his Nativity
To ground was burnt Dianaes Temple high:
An Omen to their near approaching woe,
Whose glory to the earth this king did throw.
His Rule to Greece he scorn'd should be confin'd,
The Universe scarce bound his proud vast mind.
This is the He-Goat which from Grecia came,
That ran in Choler on the Persian Ram,
That brake his horns, that threw him on the ground
To save him from his might no man was found:
Philip on this great Conquest had an eye,
But death did terminate those thoughts so high.
The Greeks had chose him Captain General,
Which honour to his Son did now befall.
(For as Worlds Monarch now we speak not on,
But as the King of little Macedon)
Restless both day and night his heart then was,
His high resolves which way to bring to pass;
Yet for a while in Greece is forc'd to stay,
Which makes each moment seem more then a day.
Thebes and stiff Athens both 'gainst him rebel,
Their mutinies by valour doth he quell.
This done against both right and natures Laws,
His kinsmen put to death, who gave no cause;
That no rebellion in in his absence be,
Nor making Title unto Sovereignty.
And all whom he suspects or fears will climbe,
Now taste of death least they deserv'd in time,
Nor wonder is t if he in blood begin,
For Cruelty was his parental sin,
Thus eased now of troubles and of fears,
Next spring his course to Asia he steers;
Leavs Sage Antipater, at home to sway,
And through the Hellispont his Ships made way.
Coming to Land, his dart on shore he throws,
Then with alacrity he after goes;
And with a bount'ous heart and courage brave,
His little wealth among his Souldiers gave.
And being ask'd what for himself was left,
Reply'd, enough, sith only hope he kept.

[...] Read more

poem by Anne Bradstreet
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Ballad of the White Horse

DEDICATION

Of great limbs gone to chaos,
A great face turned to night--
Why bend above a shapeless shroud
Seeking in such archaic cloud
Sight of strong lords and light?

Where seven sunken Englands
Lie buried one by one,
Why should one idle spade, I wonder,
Shake up the dust of thanes like thunder
To smoke and choke the sun?

In cloud of clay so cast to heaven
What shape shall man discern?
These lords may light the mystery
Of mastery or victory,
And these ride high in history,
But these shall not return.

Gored on the Norman gonfalon
The Golden Dragon died:
We shall not wake with ballad strings
The good time of the smaller things,
We shall not see the holy kings
Ride down by Severn side.

Stiff, strange, and quaintly coloured
As the broidery of Bayeux
The England of that dawn remains,
And this of Alfred and the Danes
Seems like the tales a whole tribe feigns
Too English to be true.

Of a good king on an island
That ruled once on a time;
And as he walked by an apple tree
There came green devils out of the sea
With sea-plants trailing heavily
And tracks of opal slime.

Yet Alfred is no fairy tale;
His days as our days ran,
He also looked forth for an hour
On peopled plains and skies that lower,
From those few windows in the tower
That is the head of a man.

But who shall look from Alfred's hood

[...] Read more

poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

What Would You Like

Tell me you name, tell me your sign.
Please tell me that my mind is right.
I just want to take you to my home.
Where we can talk by a fire all alone.
There's just one thing that I need to know.
Could you ever be there when I woke up,
Or will you be just another and be gone?

Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?

I take one look at you and my heart can't stop smiling.
It begins to display on the outside and my lips curl up.
Looking at you from across the void I can see my life with you.
You take a glance at me and can't help but notice to.
I walk around the corner and fade out of your sight.
I love playing this game.

Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?

You chase me around the corner at the end of the aisle.
And we both meet each other eye to eye.
My hands behind my back.
Can you guess what I've got in mind.
Oh I think you'll be suprized.
You look at me and begin to smile.

Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?

I see the moonlight fall across your face as you sleep.

[...] Read more

poem by Josh Burnett
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Paradise Regained

THE FIRST BOOK

I, WHO erewhile the happy Garden sung
By one man's disobedience lost, now sing
Recovered Paradise to all mankind,
By one man's firm obedience fully tried
Through all temptation, and the Tempter foiled
In all his wiles, defeated and repulsed,
And Eden raised in the waste Wilderness.
Thou Spirit, who led'st this glorious Eremite
Into the desert, his victorious field
Against the spiritual foe, and brought'st him thence 10
By proof the undoubted Son of God, inspire,
As thou art wont, my prompted song, else mute,
And bear through highth or depth of Nature's bounds,
With prosperous wing full summed, to tell of deeds
Above heroic, though in secret done,
And unrecorded left through many an age:
Worthy to have not remained so long unsung.
Now had the great Proclaimer, with a voice
More awful than the sound of trumpet, cried
Repentance, and Heaven's kingdom nigh at hand 20
To all baptized. To his great baptism flocked
With awe the regions round, and with them came
From Nazareth the son of Joseph deemed
To the flood Jordan--came as then obscure,
Unmarked, unknown. But him the Baptist soon
Descried, divinely warned, and witness bore
As to his worthier, and would have resigned
To him his heavenly office. Nor was long
His witness unconfirmed: on him baptized
Heaven opened, and in likeness of a Dove 30
The Spirit descended, while the Father's voice
From Heaven pronounced him his beloved Son.
That heard the Adversary, who, roving still
About the world, at that assembly famed
Would not be last, and, with the voice divine
Nigh thunder-struck, the exalted man to whom
Such high attest was given a while surveyed
With wonder; then, with envy fraught and rage,
Flies to his place, nor rests, but in mid air
To council summons all his mighty Peers, 40
Within thick clouds and dark tenfold involved,
A gloomy consistory; and them amidst,
With looks aghast and sad, he thus bespake:--
"O ancient Powers of Air and this wide World
(For much more willingly I mention Air,
This our old conquest, than remember Hell,
Our hated habitation), well ye know
How many ages, as the years of men,

[...] Read more

poem by John Milton
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

A Poem Upon The Death Of O.C.

That Providence which had so long the care
Of Cromwell's head, and numbred ev'ry hair,
Now in its self (the Glass where all appears)
Had seen the period of his golden Years:
And thenceforth onely did attend to trace,
What death might least so sair a Life deface.
The People, which what most they fear esteem,
Death when more horrid so more noble deem;
And blame the last Act, like Spectators vain,
Unless the Prince whom they applaud be slain.
Nor Fate indeed can well refuse that right
To those that liv'd in War, to dye in Fight.
But long his Valour none had left that could
Indanger him, or Clemency that would.
And he whom Nature all for Peace had made,
But angry Heaven unto War had sway'd,
And so less useful where he most desir'd,
For what he least affected was admir'd,
Deserved yet an End whose ev'ry part
Should speak the wondrous softness of his Heart.
To Love and Grief the fatal Writ was sign'd;
(Those nobler weaknesses of humane Mind,
From which those Powers that issu'd the Decree,
Although immortal, found they were not free.)
That they, to whom his Breast still open lyes,
In gentle Passions should his Death disguise:
And leave succeeding Ages cause to mourn,
As long as Grief shall weep, or Love shall burn.
Streight does a slow and languishing Disease
Eliza, Natures and his darling, seize.
Her when an infant, taken with her Charms,
He oft would flourish in his mighty Arms;
And, lest their force the tender burthen wrong,
Slacken the vigour of his Muscles strong;
Then to the Mothers brest her softly move,
Which while she drain'd of Milk she fill'd with Love:
But as with riper Years her Virtue grew,
And ev'ry minute adds a Lustre new;
When with meridian height her Beauty shin'd,
And thorough that sparkled her fairer Mind;
When She with Smiles serene and Words discreet
His hidden Soul at ev'ry turn could meet;
Then might y' ha' daily his Affection spy'd,
Doubling that knot which Destiny had ty'd:
While they by sence, not knowing, comprehend
How on each other both their Fates depend.
With her each day the pleasing Hours he shares,
And at her Aspect calms her growing Cares;
Or with a Grandsire's joy her Children sees
Hanging about her neck or at his knees.

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Marvell
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

On Your Own

Tell me what you seen
Tell me what you seen
Was it a dream?
Was it a dream?
Was I in it?
Was I in it?
Life seems so obscene
Life seems so obscene
Until its over
Until its over
Who knows?
Who knows?
All I want is someone who can fill the hole
In the life I know
All I want is someone who can fill the hole
In between life and death
In the life I know
When theres nothing left
In between life and death
Do you wanna know?
When theres nothing left
Do you wanna know?
You come in on your own
And you leave on your own
Forget the lovers youve know
You come in on your own
And your friends on your own
And you leave on your own
Forget the lovers youve know
Tell me if its true
And your friends on your own
That I need you
You are changing
Ive seen this road before down on this floor
Tell me if its true
It is hurting me
That I need you
You are changing
All I want is someone
Ive seen this road before down on this floor
Who can fill the hole
It is hurting me
In the life I know
In between life and death
When theres nothing left
All I want is someone
Do you want to know?
Who can fill the hole
In the life I know
You come in on your own

[...] Read more

song performed by Verve
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

On Your Own

Tell me what you seen
Tell me what you seen
Was it a dream?
Was it a dream?
Was I in it?
Was I in it?
Life seems so obscene
Life seems so obscene
Until its over
Until its over
Who knows?
Who knows?
All I want is someone who can fill the hole
In the life I know
All I want is someone who can fill the hole
In between life and death
In the life I know
When theres nothing left
In between life and death
Do you wanna know?
When theres nothing left
Do you wanna know?
You come in on your own
And you leave on your own
Forget the lovers youve know
You come in on your own
And your friends on your own
And you leave on your own
Forget the lovers youve know
Tell me if its true
And your friends on your own
That I need you
You are changing
Ive seen this road before down on this floor
Tell me if its true
It is hurting me
That I need you
You are changing
All I want is someone
Ive seen this road before down on this floor
Who can fill the hole
It is hurting me
In the life I know
In between life and death
When theres nothing left
All I want is someone
Do you want to know?
Who can fill the hole
In the life I know
You come in on your own

[...] Read more

song performed by Verve
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

If One Admits It

Being bottled up...
Can be resisted,
If...
One admits it.
With a wsh to rid it quick.

Pop it with a fizzle,
To be from your mind gone.
Don't get that bothered to be bottled!
Get rid of it quick.

Pop it with a fizzle,
To be from your mind gone.
Don't get that bothered to be bottled!
Get rid of it quick.

Panic can be managed,
With admitting it to rid.
Pop it with a fizzle,
To be from your mind gone.

Panic can be managed,
With admitting it to rid.
Don't get that bothered to be bottled,
Let it fizz and rid it quick.

Pop it with a fizzle,
To be from your mind gone.
Don't get that bothered to be bottled,
Let it fizz and rid it quick.

Being bottled up...
Can be resisted,
If...
One admits it.
With a wsh to rid it quick.

Panic can be managed,
With admitting it to rid.
Pop it with a fizzle,
To be from your mind gone.

Bottled up and panicked,
Can be popped and fizzled quick.
If one admits it.
To rid it!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Romantic Understandings

You've got me on a tightrope and trembling too!
This is not...
Romantic understanding.

You've got me so uptight I don't know what to do.
This is not...
Romantic understanding.

Tell me why,
Romantic understanding...
You aint got hip to yet!
Tell me why,
Romantic understandings...
From you I might not get.

Tell me why,
There's no romantic understanding.
Why...
There's no chance for romance.

And,
Tell me why...
There's no romantic understanding.
Or a chance for romance!

You've got me on a tightrope and trembling too!
You've got me so uptight I don't know what to do.

Tell me why,
There's no romantic understanding.
Why...
There's no chance for romance.

You've got me on a tightrope and trembling too!
You've got me so uptight I don't know what to do.
Can you.
Can you.
Can you...
I bet you can,
Tell me why,
There's no romantic understanding.
Why...
There's no chance for romance.

Tell me why,
Romantic understanding...
You aint got hip to yet!

Tell me why,
Romantic understandings...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

To A Foil'd European Revolutionaire

COURAGE yet! my brother or my sister!
Keep on! Liberty is to be subserv'd, whatever occurs;
That is nothing, that is quell'd by one or two failures, or any
number of failures,
Or by the indifference or ingratitude of the people, or by any
unfaithfulness,
Or the show of the tushes of power, soldiers, cannon, penal statutes.

Revolt! and still revolt! revolt!
What we believe in waits latent forever through all the continents,
and all the islands and archipelagos of the sea;
What we believe in invites no one, promises nothing, sits in calmness
and light, is positive and composed, knows no discouragement,
Waiting patiently, waiting its time.

(Not songs of loyalty alone are these, 10
But songs of insurrection also;
For I am the sworn poet of every dauntless rebel, the world over,
And he going with me leaves peace and routine behind him,
And stakes his life, to be lost at any moment.)

Revolt! and the downfall of tyrants!
The battle rages with many a loud alarm, and frequent advance and
retreat,
The infidel triumphs--or supposes he triumphs,
Then the prison, scaffold, garrote, hand-cuffs, iron necklace and
anklet, lead-balls, do their work,
The named and unnamed heroes pass to other spheres,
The great speakers and writers are exiled--they lie sick in distant
lands, 20
The cause is asleep--the strongest throats are still, choked with
their own blood,
The young men droop their eyelashes toward the ground when they meet;
--But for all this, liberty has not gone out of the place, nor the
infidel enter'd into full possession.

When liberty goes out of a place, it is not the first to go, nor the
second or third to go,
It waits for all the rest to go--it is the last.

When there are no more memories of heroes and martyrs,
And when all life, and all the souls of men and women are discharged
from any part of the earth,
Then only shall liberty, or the idea of liberty, be discharged from
that part of the earth,
And the infidel come into full possession.

Then courage! European revolter! revoltress! 30

[...] Read more

poem by Walt Whitman
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Don't Forget who is your Father

God is Great
He created you and me so ladies and gentleman
he is the only person to praise and pray
Cause some of us we pray Alan people you pray him
who is him God is the one who created us
so guys help me to Thank him every time i'm sick i call him cause
he is the hiller the killer of diseases in the world
Help me to sing.
How great is our God sing with me how great is our God
all we sing is how great is our God age to age praise his
Great great great great great
great great great great great great great
great great great great great great great
great great great great great great great great great great great

GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD..

Thank you Help me pliz.

poem by Ruvimbo Daisy Matsika
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Giving Up Should Be A Thought To Rid

Giving up should never be an option,
For anyone...
With more to be done.
Giving up should never be considered.
Giving up should be a thought to rid.

Giving up should never be an option,
For anyone...
With more to be done.
Giving up should never be considered.
Giving up should be a thought to rid.

People who've been spoiled haven't lived,
To know all there is...
About life.
To let it quickly fizzle into an abyss.
It's about risks!
That's what life is!

Giving up should never be considered.
Giving up should be a thought to rid.

People who've been spoiled haven't lived,
To know all there is...
About life.
Giving up should never be considered.
Giving up should be a thought to rid.

Giving up should never be an option,
For anyone...
With more to be done.
Giving up should never be considered.
Giving up should be a thought to rid.

People who've been spoiled haven't lived,
To know that living life is taking risks.
And...
Giving up should never be an option,
For anyone...
With more to be done.
Giving up should never be considered.
Giving up should be a thought to rid.

Giving up should never be considered.
Giving up should be a thought to rid.
Giving up should be a thought to rid.
Yes,
Giving up should be a thought to rid.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Broad and The Narrow

When Christ started The Church He made things quite simple and clear,
However many are following Religious Leaders into ambiguity I fear.

Christ came to give us freedom through the Cross-of Salvation,
However many are following Religious Leaders on roads of damnation.

Christ told the early disciples of only one road in which to follow,
But today Religious Leaders try to make His words vain and hollow.

The only road is a narrow one, and you enter through a narrow gate,
This Truth is despised by Religious Leaders, who proclaim it is hate.

While very few find this road that leads to the only Resurrection,
A broader road is being paved by Religious Leaders to destruction.

It’s easy to get on this road through a wide gate and many are on it,
Being lead by Religious Leaders who Christ warned are false prophets.

They come to you in sheep’s clothing and appear to be pure and good,
But inwardly these Religious Leaders are darkened ferocious wolves.

In the end many will abandon the faith to follow hypocritical liars,
Lead by Religious Leaders with morals that were seared with an iron.

When you stand before The Lord, it’s only His words you will hear,
You can follow these Religious Leaders or The Lord with Holy Fear.

Will He say “Away from me” as you chose to be wicked and irreverent?
Or will you hear Him say, “Well done My fine and faithful servant”?

(Copyright © 07/2002)

poem by Bob Gotti
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Bald Eagle Has Broken The Geneva Convention

Only a monster could observe
naked suffering of concentration
extermination camps and not thank
God for liberation closing of this crime.

A crime inditing systematic political indifference
to a horrific crime perpetrated against humanity.

Only a monster could observe
calculated humiliation human rights
abuses torture violation of international
law Geneva Conventions and not pray closure.

International law for humanitarian treatment of
victims of war as 90% in Guantanamo proved to be.

Fact! The Geneva Convention agreements of 1949
negotiated in the aftermath of World War II updated
the terms of the first three treaties and added a fourth.

Fact! Articles defined the basic rights of those captured
during a military conflict, establishing protections for
the wounded, and addressing protections for civilians.

“The treaties of 1949 were ratified, in whole or with
reservations, by 194 countries” including the USA Mr Bush.

Placing Guantanamo outside the United States to avoid
violating American laws, while deliberately violating
international law, and Geneva Conventions, sends a strong

message to the free world; spelling out meaning of Bush
new world order, and foolish contempt of world opinion.
Arrogant is a word, reserved for illegal, fuel war in Iraq.

When deliberately targeting infrastructure, hospitals
electricity water schools, non-military targets, a word
for the wise. This does not win hearts and minds, but

individuals; communities, governments, nations
globally, observe infrastructure is deliberately
destroyed; selection fixed to suppress control demoralize.

Soon such policies Guantanamo abuses
are compared to a few little sentences
Mr Bush Pentagon staff should have read.

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Pharsalia - Book IV: Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea. Death Of Curio.

But in the distant regions of the earth
Fierce Caesar warring, though in fight he dealt
No baneful slaughter, hastened on the doom
To swift fulfillment. There on Magnus' side
Afranius and Petreius held command,
Who ruled alternate, and the rampart guard
Obeyed the standard of each chief in turn.
There with the Romans in the camp were joined
Asturians swift, and Vettons lightly armed,
And Celts who, exiled from their ancient home,
Had joined 'Iberus' to their former name.
Where the rich soil in gentle slope ascends
And forms a modest hill, Ilerda stands,
Founded in ancient days; beside her glides
Not least of western rivers, Sicoris
Of placid current, by a mighty arch
Of stone o'erspanned, which not the winter floods
Shall overwhelm. Upon a rock hard by
Was Magnus' camp; but Caesar's on a hill,
Rivalling the first; and in the midst a stream.
Here boundless plains are spread beyond the range
Of human vision; Cinga girds them in
With greedy waves; forbidden to contend
With tides of ocean; for that larger flood
Who names the land, Iberus, sweeps along
The lesser stream commingled with his own.

Guiltless of war, the first day saw the hosts
In long array confronted; standard rose
Opposing standard, numberless; yet none
Essayed attack, in shame of impious strife.
One day they gave their country and her laws.
But Caesar, when from heaven fell the night,
Drew round a hasty trench; his foremost rank
With close array concealing those who wrought.
Then with the morn he bids them seize the hill
Which parted from the camp Ilerda's walls,
And gave them safety. But in fear and shame
On rushed the foe and seized the vantage ground,
First in the onset. From the height they held
Their hopes of conquest; but to Caesar's men
Their hearts by courage stirred, and their good swords
Promised the victory. Burdened up the ridge
The soldier climbed, and from the opposing steep
But for his comrade's shield had fallen back;
None had the space to hurl the quivering lance
Upon the foeman: spear and pike made sure
The failing foothold, and the falchion's edge
Hewed out their upward path. But Caesar saw
Ruin impending, and he bade his horse

[...] Read more

poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!