Citatepedia^®.com

It has been mentioned that in Trench I there is evidence of three successive stages of these defences.

quote by Kathleen Kenyon
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Puzzling Evidence

You got the cbs...!
And the abc...!
You got time and newsweek!
Well, theyre the same to me!
Now dont you wanna get right with me?
(puzzling evidence)
I hope you get evrything you need
(puzzling evidence)
Puzzling evidence
Puzzling evidence
Puzzling evidence
Done hardened in your heart
Hardened in your heart.
...alright!u
Now I am the gun
And you are the bullet
I got the power and glory!
(puzzling)
And the money to buy it!
(puzzling)
Got your gulf and western and your mastercard
(puzzling evidence)
Got what you wanted, lost what you had
(puzzling evidence)
Im seeing
Puzzling evidence
Puzzling evidence
Puzzling evidence
Done hardened in your heart
Its hardened up your heart.
...alright!
Huh...huh...huh...huh...huh...huh...huh...u
Well, Im puzzling (huh!)
Im puzzling (huh!)
Im puzzling (huh!)
Puzzling (huh!)
Im puzzling (huh!)
Woo...Im puzzling (huh!)
Sometimes Im puzzling! (huh!)
See the little children! (puzzlin)
And the family! (puzzlin)
Gonna live together! (puzzlin)
Take them home with me! (puzzlin)
Well I hope youre happy with what youve made
(puzzling evidence)
In the land of the free and the home of the brave
(puzzling evidence)
Im seeing
Puzzling evidence
Puzzling evidence

[...] Read more

song performed by Talking Heads
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Puzzlin' Evidence

You got the CBS...!
And the ABC...!
You got Time and Newsweek!
Well, they're the same to me!
Now don't you wanna get right with me?
(Puzzling Evidence)
I hope you get ev'rything you need
(Puzzling Evidence)
Puzzling Evidence
Puzzling Evidence
Puzzling Evidence
Done hardened in your heart
Hardened in your heart.
...Alright!
Now I am the gun
And you are the bullet
I got the power and glory!
(Puzzling)
And the money to buy it!
(Puzzling)
Got your Gulf and Western and your MasterCard
(Puzzling Evidence)
Got what you wanted, lost what you had
(Puzzling Evidence)
I'm seeing
Puzzling Evidence
Puzzling Evidence
Puzzling Evidence
Done hardened in your heart
It's hardened up your heart.
...alright!
Huh...huh...huh...huh...huh...huh...huh...
Well, I'm puzzling (Huh!)
I'm puzzling (Huh!)
I'm puzzling (Huh!)
Puzzling (Huh!)
I'm puzzling (Huh!)
Woo...I'm puzzling (Huh!)
Sometimes I'm puzzling! (Huh!)
See the little children! (Puzzlin')
And the family! (Puzzlin')
Gonna live together! (Puzzlin')
Take them home with me! (Puzzlin')
Well I hope you're happy with what you've made
(Puzzling Evidence)
In the land of the free and the home of the brave
(Puzzling Evidence)
I'm seeing
Puzzling Evidence
Puzzling Evidence

[...] Read more

song performed by Talking Heads
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Iliad: Book 12

So the son of Menoetius was attending to the hurt of Eurypylus
within the tent, but the Argives and Trojans still fought desperately,
nor were the trench and the high wall above it, to keep the Trojans in
check longer. They had built it to protect their ships, and had dug
the trench all round it that it might safeguard both the ships and the
rich spoils which they had taken, but they had not offered hecatombs
to the gods. It had been built without the consent of the immortals,
and therefore it did not last. So long as Hector lived and Achilles
nursed his anger, and so long as the city of Priam remained untaken,
the great wall of the Achaeans stood firm; but when the bravest of the
Trojans were no more, and many also of the Argives, though some were
yet left alive when, moreover, the city was sacked in the tenth
year, and the Argives had gone back with their ships to their own
country- then Neptune and Apollo took counsel to destroy the wall, and
they turned on to it the streams of all the rivers from Mount Ida into
the sea, Rhesus, Heptaporus, Caresus, Rhodius, Grenicus, Aesopus,
and goodly Scamander, with Simois, where many a shield and helm had
fallen, and many a hero of the race of demigods had bitten the dust.
Phoebus Apollo turned the mouths of all these rivers together and made
them flow for nine days against the wall, while Jove rained the
whole time that he might wash it sooner into the sea. Neptune himself,
trident in hand, surveyed the work and threw into the sea all the
foundations of beams and stones which the Achaeans had laid with so
much toil; he made all level by the mighty stream of the Hellespont,
and then when he had swept the wall away he spread a great beach of
sand over the place where it had been. This done he turned the
rivers back into their old courses.
This was what Neptune and Apollo were to do in after time; but as
yet battle and turmoil were still raging round the wall till its
timbers rang under the blows that rained upon them. The Argives, cowed
by the scourge of Jove, were hemmed in at their ships in fear of
Hector the mighty minister of Rout, who as heretofore fought with
the force and fury of a whirlwind. As a lion or wild boar turns
fiercely on the dogs and men that attack him, while these form solid
wall and shower their javelins as they face him- his courage is all
undaunted, but his high spirit will be the death of him; many a time
does he charge at his pursuers to scatter them, and they fall back
as often as he does so- even so did Hector go about among the host
exhorting his men, and cheering them on to cross the trench.
But the horses dared not do so, and stood neighing upon its brink,
for the width frightened them. They could neither jump it nor cross
it, for it had overhanging banks all round upon either side, above
which there were the sharp stakes that the sons of the Achaeans had
planted so close and strong as a defence against all who would
assail it; a horse, therefore, could not get into it and draw his
chariot after him, but those who were on foot kept trying their very
utmost. Then Polydamas went up to Hector and said, "Hector, and you
other captains of the Trojans and allies, it is madness for us to
try and drive our horses across the trench; it will be very hard to
cross, for it is full of sharp stakes, and beyond these there is the

[...] Read more

poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Georgics

GEORGIC I

What makes the cornfield smile; beneath what star
Maecenas, it is meet to turn the sod
Or marry elm with vine; how tend the steer;
What pains for cattle-keeping, or what proof
Of patient trial serves for thrifty bees;-
Such are my themes.
O universal lights
Most glorious! ye that lead the gliding year
Along the sky, Liber and Ceres mild,
If by your bounty holpen earth once changed
Chaonian acorn for the plump wheat-ear,
And mingled with the grape, your new-found gift,
The draughts of Achelous; and ye Fauns
To rustics ever kind, come foot it, Fauns
And Dryad-maids together; your gifts I sing.
And thou, for whose delight the war-horse first
Sprang from earth's womb at thy great trident's stroke,
Neptune; and haunter of the groves, for whom
Three hundred snow-white heifers browse the brakes,
The fertile brakes of Ceos; and clothed in power,
Thy native forest and Lycean lawns,
Pan, shepherd-god, forsaking, as the love
Of thine own Maenalus constrains thee, hear
And help, O lord of Tegea! And thou, too,
Minerva, from whose hand the olive sprung;
And boy-discoverer of the curved plough;
And, bearing a young cypress root-uptorn,
Silvanus, and Gods all and Goddesses,
Who make the fields your care, both ye who nurse
The tender unsown increase, and from heaven
Shed on man's sowing the riches of your rain:
And thou, even thou, of whom we know not yet
What mansion of the skies shall hold thee soon,
Whether to watch o'er cities be thy will,
Great Caesar, and to take the earth in charge,
That so the mighty world may welcome thee
Lord of her increase, master of her times,
Binding thy mother's myrtle round thy brow,
Or as the boundless ocean's God thou come,
Sole dread of seamen, till far Thule bow
Before thee, and Tethys win thee to her son
With all her waves for dower; or as a star
Lend thy fresh beams our lagging months to cheer,
Where 'twixt the Maid and those pursuing Claws
A space is opening; see! red Scorpio's self
His arms draws in, yea, and hath left thee more
Than thy full meed of heaven: be what thou wilt-
For neither Tartarus hopes to call thee king,

[...] Read more

poem by Virgil
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Stages

Its a fine time to fall in love with you,
I aint got a single thing to do.
It happened before I knew what was going on.
I fell out and knew that I was gone.
Stages keep on changing,
Stages rearranging love.
Then you left me standing all alone,
I couldnt even get you on the phone.
Were you just confused and didnt know
If you should stay or if you had to go?
Stages keep on changing,
Stages rearranging love.
Now youre back and say youre gonna stay.
I wouldnt have it any other way.
Tell me its for real and let me know
Why does lovin have to come and go.
Stages keep on changing,
Stages rearranging love.

song performed by ZZ Top
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Escapade

In our lovely city of Chennai,
A big trench was deeply dug, nigh
To the neat pedestrian platform,
For laying pipes of forms and so on.

There came a corpulent buffalo,
And on the muddy trench low,
Espied its calf struggling in woe;
With celerity, it sprang down to tow.

The passers-by, saw the two-some,
Bracketed in the trench—so awesome—
Some passed by, speaking with pity;
The playful brats in glee, sang a ditty.

Some passed by engrossed in their own care,
Some flew past with no time to spare for the pair;
Something must be done to retrieve—some thought—
‘ Nothing by us could be done'—so some fought.

Some youth got down to the trench,
And got badly hurt in the wrench,
Ah! They lifted the calf with gay success,
But the big buffalo they couldn't harness.!

Meanwhile there formed a crowd around,
And some pronounced 'Let's the police sound.'
The police force spurned with disdain,
'To extricate a buffalo is not in our domain.'

Some inclined the ‘Blue Cross' to call,
And some ushered in the Fire Engine to haul,
Each according to their own fine thought,
Acted to bring the struggling buffalo caught.

The ‘Blue Cross' van hastened to the spot,
The men tossed strong ropes looped in a knot;
The animal ran hither and thither in fear,
They couldn't capture it though sincere.

From a far away place landed the fire-engine,
Even their efforts couldn't the buffalo pin!
Next day to arrive with improved elements,
The exhausted men left with wry laments.

Then the twilight gave place to dark night,
And the crowd dispersed from the location right.
The poor calf borne to the platform stood lonely,
And the buffalo was inside the trench standing impatiently.

[...] Read more

poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Odyssey: Book 11

Then, when we had got down to the sea shore we drew our ship into
the water and got her mast and sails into her; we also put the sheep
on board and took our places, weeping and in great distress of mind.
Circe, that great and cunning goddess, sent us a fair wind that blew
dead aft and stayed steadily with us keeping our sails all the time
well filled; so we did whatever wanted doing to the ship's gear and
let her go as the wind and helmsman headed her. All day long her sails
were full as she held her course over the sea, but when the sun went
down and darkness was over all the earth, we got into the deep
waters of the river Oceanus, where lie the land and city of the
Cimmerians who live enshrouded in mist and darkness which the rays
of the sun never pierce neither at his rising nor as he goes down
again out of the heavens, but the poor wretches live in one long
melancholy night. When we got there we beached the ship, took the
sheep out of her, and went along by the waters of Oceanus till we came
to the place of which Circe had told us.
"Here Perimedes and Eurylochus held the victims, while I drew my
sword and dug the trench a cubit each way. I made a drink-offering
to all the dead, first with honey and milk, then with wine, and
thirdly with water, and I sprinkled white barley meal over the
whole, praying earnestly to the poor feckless ghosts, and promising
them that when I got back to Ithaca I would sacrifice a barren
heifer for them, the best I had, and would load the pyre with good
things. I also particularly promised that Teiresias should have a
black sheep to himself, the best in all my flocks. When I had prayed
sufficiently to the dead, I cut the throats of the two sheep and let
the blood run into the trench, whereon the ghosts came trooping up
from Erebus- brides, young bachelors, old men worn out with toil,
maids who had been crossed in love, and brave men who had been
killed in battle, with their armour still smirched with blood; they
came from every quarter and flitted round the trench with a strange
kind of screaming sound that made me turn pale with fear. When I saw
them coming I told the men to be quick and flay the carcasses of the
two dead sheep and make burnt offerings of them, and at the same
time to repeat prayers to Hades and to Proserpine; but I sat where I
was with my sword drawn and would not let the poor feckless ghosts
come near the blood till Teiresias should have answered my questions.
"The first ghost 'that came was that of my comrade Elpenor, for he
had not yet been laid beneath the earth. We had left his body
unwaked and unburied in Circe's house, for we had had too much else to
do. I was very sorry for him, and cried when I saw him: 'Elpenor,'
said I, 'how did you come down here into this gloom and darkness?
You have here on foot quicker than I have with my ship.'
"'Sir,' he answered with a groan, 'it was all bad luck, and my own
unspeakable drunkenness. I was lying asleep on the top of Circe's
house, and never thought of coming down again by the great staircase
but fell right off the roof and broke my neck, so my soul down to
the house of Hades. And now I beseech you by all those whom you have
left behind you, though they are not here, by your wife, by the father
who brought you up when you were a child, and by Telemachus who is the

[...] Read more

poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Self Praise Stages

When people are in their self praise stages...
They should be given the attention.
Today...
Very few people have hobbies,
Or interests that makes them feel proud.

When people are in their self praise stages...
They should be given the attention.
There is something about people like this,
Others would say are egotistical.
I find them to be inspirational.

So many of the others are caught up,
In backstabbings, defamation of character...
And deep they are in self deception.
So whenever I am around those,
Who are in their self praise stages...
I am amazed they are not professing a self hate.
Or in the reception of doubts and complaints.

However...
Those on stages self praising themselves,
Is a different perspective.
These folks don't have time to be introspective.
Self praising from stages most get paid to do.
This can be compared to individuals,
Who have been 'called' to administer...
A self righteousness affixed to wholesome boredom.

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

Many Incidents Intended

Many incidents intended,
Has evidence as incentive.
But no one pays attention...
Or listens to what's being said,
To what is being mentioned.

These speeding times leave minds behind.

Many incidents intended,
Has evidence as incentive.
But no one pays attention...
Or listens to what's being said,
To what is being mentioned.

These speeding times leave minds behind.
These speeding times leave minds behind.

Many incidents intended.
But no one pays attention...
Or listens to what's being said,
To what is being mentioned.

Many incidents intended.

Many incidents intended.
But no one pays attention...
Or listens to what's being said,
To what is being mentioned.

Many incidents intended.
Many incidents intended.
Many incidents intended.

These speeding times leave minds behind.

Many incidents intended.
Many incidents intended.
Many incidents intended.

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

Christmas-Eve

I.
OUT of the little chapel I burst
Into the fresh night air again.
I had waited a good five minutes first
In the doorway, to escape the rain
That drove in gusts down the common’s centre,
At the edge of which the chapel stands,
Before I plucked up heart to enter:
Heaven knows how many sorts of hands
Reached past me, groping for the latch
Of the inner door that hung on catch,
More obstinate the more they fumbled,
Till, giving way at last with a scold
Of the crazy hinge, in squeezed or tumbled
One sheep more to the rest in fold,
And left me irresolute, standing sentry
In the sheepfold’s lath-and-plaster entry,
Four feet long by two feet wide,
Partitioned off from the vast inside—
I blocked up half of it at least.
No remedy; the rain kept driving:
They eyed me much as some wild beast,
The congregation, still arriving,
Some of them by the mainroad, white
A long way past me into the night,
Skirting the common, then diverging;
Not a few suddenly emerging
From the common’s self thro’ the paling-gaps,—
—They house in the gravel-pits perhaps,
Where the road stops short with its safeguard border
Of lamps, as tired of such disorder;—
But the most turned in yet more abruptly
From a certain squalid knot of alleys,
Where the town’s bad blood once slept corruptly,
Which now the little chapel rallies
And leads into day again,—its priestliness
Lending itself to hide their beastliness
So cleverly (thanks in part to the mason),
And putting so cheery a whitewashed face on
Those neophytes too much in lack of it,
That, where you cross the common as I did,
And meet the party thus presided,
“Mount Zion,” with Love-lane at the back of it,
They front you as little disconcerted,
As, bound for the hills, her fate averted
And her wicked people made to mind him,
Lot might have marched with Gomorrah behind him.

II.
Well, from the road, the lanes or the common,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Iliad: Book 8

Now when Morning, clad in her robe of saffron, had begun to suffuse
light over the earth, Jove called the gods in council on the topmost
crest of serrated Olympus. Then he spoke and all the other gods gave
ear. "Hear me," said he, "gods and goddesses, that I may speak even as
I am minded. Let none of you neither goddess nor god try to cross
me, but obey me every one of you that I may bring this matter to an
end. If I see anyone acting apart and helping either Trojans or
Danaans, he shall be beaten inordinately ere he come back again to
Olympus; or I will hurl him down into dark Tartarus far into the
deepest pit under the earth, where the gates are iron and the floor
bronze, as far beneath Hades as heaven is high above the earth, that
you may learn how much the mightiest I am among you. Try me and find
out for yourselves. Hangs me a golden chain from heaven, and lay
hold of it all of you, gods and goddesses together- tug as you will,
you will not drag Jove the supreme counsellor from heaven to earth;
but were I to pull at it myself I should draw you up with earth and
sea into the bargain, then would I bind the chain about some
pinnacle of Olympus and leave you all dangling in the mid firmament.
So far am I above all others either of gods or men."
They were frightened and all of them of held their peace, for he had
spoken masterfully; but at last Minerva answered, "Father, son of
Saturn, king of kings, we all know that your might is not to be
gainsaid, but we are also sorry for the Danaan warriors, who are
perishing and coming to a bad end. We will, however, since you so
bid us, refrain from actual fighting, but we will make serviceable
suggestions to the Argives that they may not all of them perish in
your displeasure."
Jove smiled at her and answered, "Take heart, my child,
Trito-born; I am not really in earnest, and I wish to be kind to you."
With this he yoked his fleet horses, with hoofs of bronze and
manes of glittering gold. He girded himself also with gold about the
body, seized his gold whip and took his seat in his chariot. Thereon
he lashed his horses and they flew forward nothing loth midway twixt
earth and starry heaven. After a while he reached many-fountained Ida,
mother of wild beasts, and Gargarus, where are his grove and
fragrant altar. There the father of gods and men stayed his horses,
took them from the chariot, and hid them in a thick cloud; then he
took his seat all glorious upon the topmost crests, looking down
upon the city of Troy and the ships of the Achaeans.
The Achaeans took their morning meal hastily at the ships, and
afterwards put on their armour. The Trojans on the other hand likewise
armed themselves throughout the city, fewer in numbers but
nevertheless eager perforce to do battle for their wives and children.
All the gates were flung wide open, and horse and foot sallied forth
with the tramp as of a great multitude.
When they were got together in one place, shield clashed with
shield, and spear with spear, in the conflict of mail-clad men. Mighty
was the din as the bossed shields pressed hard on one another-
death- cry and shout of triumph of slain and slayers, and the earth
ran red with blood.

[...] Read more

poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Georgic 2

Thus far the tilth of fields and stars of heaven;
Now will I sing thee, Bacchus, and, with thee,
The forest's young plantations and the fruit
Of slow-maturing olive. Hither haste,
O Father of the wine-press; all things here
Teem with the bounties of thy hand; for thee
With viny autumn laden blooms the field,
And foams the vintage high with brimming vats;
Hither, O Father of the wine-press, come,
And stripped of buskin stain thy bared limbs
In the new must with me.
First, nature's law
For generating trees is manifold;
For some of their own force spontaneous spring,
No hand of man compelling, and possess
The plains and river-windings far and wide,
As pliant osier and the bending broom,
Poplar, and willows in wan companies
With green leaf glimmering gray; and some there be
From chance-dropped seed that rear them, as the tall
Chestnuts, and, mightiest of the branching wood,
Jove's Aesculus, and oaks, oracular
Deemed by the Greeks of old. With some sprouts forth
A forest of dense suckers from the root,
As elms and cherries; so, too, a pigmy plant,
Beneath its mother's mighty shade upshoots
The bay-tree of Parnassus. Such the modes
Nature imparted first; hence all the race
Of forest-trees and shrubs and sacred groves
Springs into verdure.
Other means there are,
Which use by method for itself acquired.
One, sliving suckers from the tender frame
Of the tree-mother, plants them in the trench;
One buries the bare stumps within his field,
Truncheons cleft four-wise, or sharp-pointed stakes;
Some forest-trees the layer's bent arch await,
And slips yet quick within the parent-soil;
No root need others, nor doth the pruner's hand
Shrink to restore the topmost shoot to earth
That gave it being. Nay, marvellous to tell,
Lopped of its limbs, the olive, a mere stock,
Still thrusts its root out from the sapless wood,
And oft the branches of one kind we see
Change to another's with no loss to rue,
Pear-tree transformed the ingrafted apple yield,
And stony cornels on the plum-tree blush.
Come then, and learn what tilth to each belongs
According to their kinds, ye husbandmen,
And tame with culture the wild fruits, lest earth

[...] Read more

poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Ha Ha Ha Happy Family

See see Papa Trench Bottom
dig in the mines happily, laugh ha ha happily
and drink at night and hear him
snore before the day
happy happy Papa Trench Bottom
he he he he he ha ha happy happy
at home and at work
See see Mama Big Bottom
she she she he he ha ha happy
Dance happily Cook with joy
toss with levity
and puts dishes aplenty on the table
for all in the family to eat and be merry
See see Teenage Tough Dude
he he he happily walks in the streets
Cool at school
Very Pop with the babes
and eating lots at home, with gravity
very serious in look, sparse in his words
but loves his mom, dad and sis
deep deep within, ha ha happily happily
Happy Happy Teenage Cool Dude
And see Sister Barbie Doll Pretty
Curls and dimples and cute smiles all
Happy hours in the ha ha bathroom
many more hours texting and chatting
and lots and lots of FaceTime
Happy happy walking sexy
all the way to work
and chirping all day like a Paradise Bird
at work at the Rainbow Fast Food Outlet
happy happy talking talking all workday
Ah See Happy happy he he he
she she she happy happy Family
Trench Bottom family he he he
and she she she all day and night
Happy happy Trench Bottoms
Happy happy he he ha ha Happy Family always

poem by Raj Arumugam
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Coward

'Ave you seen Bill's mug in the Noos to-day?
'E's gyned the Victoriar Cross, they say;
Little Bill wot would grizzle and run away,
If you 'it 'im a swipe on the jawr.
'E's slaughtered the Kaiser's men in tons;
'E's captured one of their quick-fire guns,
And 'e 'adn't no practice in killin' 'Uns
Afore 'e went off to the war.

Little Bill wot I nussed in 'is by-by clothes;
Little Bill wot told me 'is childish woes;
'Ow often I've tidied 'is pore little nose
Wiv the 'em of me pinnyfore.
And now all the papers 'is praises ring,
And 'e's been and 'e's shaken the 'and of the King
And I sawr 'im to-day in the ward, pore thing,
Where they're patchin' 'im up once more.

And 'e says: "Wot d'ye think of it, Lizer Ann?"
And I says: "Well, I can't make it out, old man;
You'd 'ook it as soon as a scrap began,
When you was a bit of a kid."
And 'e whispers: "'Ere, on the quiet, Liz,
They're makin' too much of the 'ole damn biz,
And the papers is printin' me ugly phiz,
But . . . I'm 'anged if I know wot I did.

"Oh, the Captain comes and 'e says: 'Look 'ere!
They're far too quiet out there: it's queer.
They're up to somethin' -- 'oo'll volunteer
To crawl in the dark and see?'
Then I felt me 'eart like a 'ammer go,
And up jumps a chap and 'e says: 'Right O!'
But I chips in straight, and I says 'Oh no!
'E's a missis and kids -- take me.'

"And the next I knew I was sneakin' out,
And the oozy corpses was all about,
And I felt so scared I wanted to shout,
And me skin fair prickled wiv fear;
And I sez: 'You coward! You 'ad no right
To take on the job of a man this night,'
Yet still I kept creepin' till ('orrid sight!)
The trench of the 'Uns was near.

"It was all so dark, it was all so still;
Yet somethin' pushed me against me will;
'Ow I wanted to turn! Yet I crawled until
I was seein' a dim light shine.
Then thinks I: 'I'll just go a little bit,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Mistrust Defences

MISTRUST DEFENCES

MIstrust defences which outlast their use
RIde onwards, overcoming inner brake
AMounting to unjustified mistake, -
MIndful there remains no real excuse.
RIdiculous these barricades, cut loose!
AMplify harmonics, soothe heartache.
MIllstones disappear where clear minds take
RIsks to shed stale shackles, self abuse.
AMor vincit omnia, - no noose,
MIstaken trap is lust which must thirst slake,
RIpe corn’s unreaped when wild nor’easters shake.
AMbiguous motives compromise, reduce.
MIRage screens no raison-d’être retain
‘I AM in tune with you’ requires no rein.

30th October 2001
robi03_0958_robi03_0000 ASX_EXX

Mistrust Defences poem (c) Jonathan Robin

poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

King Of Dreams

It doesnt matter if Im right or wrong
It really doesnt mean a thing
It doesnt matter if you like my song
As long as you can hear me sing
cause Im the thorn in every little girls rose
You know I cut but never bleed
A shadow in the night, pure delight
I can satisfy your every need
Im a real smooth dancer, Im fantasy man
Master of illusion, magic touch in my hand
All the stages are empty when I steal the scenes
A beggar of love, second hand hero...king of dreams
Dont make a difference what you got
It doesnt matter what you lose
Dont make a difference if you like it or not
Baby Im gonna change your attitude
cause all around me there is mystery and wonder
Now cant you see it in my eyes
Ill crack the sky, make you feel the thunder
Youll never see through my disguise
Im a real smooth dancer, Im fantasy man
Master of illusion, with my sleight of hand
All the stages are empty when I steal the scenes
A beggar for love, second hand hero... king of dreams
All around, all around
Emotional squeeze through again and again
I know how to please you, your mind is on the bend
Cant you feel the power, surrender in my arms
Beyond the witching hour were travelling on and on
Im a real smooth dancer, Im fantasy man
Master of illusion, magic touch in my hand
The stages are empty when I steal the scenes
A beggar of love, second hand hero... king of dreams
Im a real smooth dancer, fantasy man
Master of illusion, sleight of hand
The stages are empty when I steal the scenes
A beggar for love... king of dreams

song performed by Deep Purple
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Successive Signals

Shower spray soothes suffering stunned soul.
Sensitivity’s slippery soap sensation store sends serendipity’s sun,
suddenly subtle cyphered successive subsurface sonar signals satisfaction strew,
strangely satiate, resuscitating successful sentimental sojourn.

Had we not met or had I through disappointment's hole
never slipped, would joyful journey now begun
have taken place replacing splintered parts with whole
validating vibrations verifying unimagined union.

Dreams drive Destiny’s dance despite danger, doleful dole.
Desire dismisses disillusion, delusion; auto-derision’s self-fulfilling fun
flows fluidly through Time's wave bands’ ripple role
pursuing harmonious horizon
untouched, unsmutched, unattainted, as inner reach attains role
reversal, releases control … Story spun.

17 December 2006 revised 7 June 2008
for previous version see below

Successive Signals

Shower spray soothes suffering stunned soul.
Sensitivity’s slippery soap sensation store suddenly sends successive subtle subsurface sonar signals strangely satiating serendipity’s sun.
Had we not met and I through disappointment's hole
never slipped, would joyful journey now begun
have taken place replacing splintered parts with whole
validating vibrations verifying unimagined union.

Dreams drive Destiny’s dance despite danger, doleful dole.
Desire dismisses disillusion, delusion; auto-derision’s self-fulfilling fun
flows fluidly through Time's wave bands’ ripple role
pursuing harmonious horizon
untouched, unsmutched, unattainted, as inner reach attains role
reversal, releases control … Story spun.

17 December 2006

poem by Jonathan Robin
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!

M'Fingal - Canto I

When Yankies, skill'd in martial rule,
First put the British troops to school;
Instructed them in warlike trade,
And new manoeuvres of parade,
The true war-dance of Yankee reels,
And manual exercise of heels;
Made them give up, like saints complete,
The arm of flesh, and trust the feet,
And work, like Christians undissembling,
Salvation out, by fear and trembling;
Taught Percy fashionable races,
And modern modes of Chevy-Chases:
From Boston, in his best array,
Great 'Squire M'Fingal took his way,
And graced with ensigns of renown,
Steer'd homeward to his native town.

His high descent our heralds trace
From Ossian's famed Fingalian race:
For though their name some part may lack,
Old Fingal spelt it with a Mac;
Which great M'Pherson, with submission,
We hope will add the next edition.

His fathers flourish'd in the Highlands
Of Scotia's fog-benighted islands;
Whence gain'd our 'Squire two gifts by right,
Rebellion, and the Second-sight.
Of these, the first, in ancient days,
Had gain'd the noblest palm of praise,
'Gainst kings stood forth and many a crown'd head
With terror of its might confounded;
Till rose a king with potent charm
His foes by meekness to disarm,
Whom every Scot and Jacobite
Strait fell in love with at first sight;
Whose gracious speech with aid of pensions,
Hush'd down all murmurs of dissensions,
And with the sound of potent metal
Brought all their buzzing swarms to settle;
Who rain'd his ministerial manna,
Till loud Sedition sung hosanna;
The grave Lords-Bishops and the Kirk
United in the public work;
Rebellion, from the northern regions,
With Bute and Mansfield swore allegiance;
All hands combin'd to raze, as nuisance,
Of church and state the Constitutions,

[...] Read more

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

Hebrews 11: 1

Faith is the substance of things hoped for
the light of the Lord that opens the door
Reveling the light of heaven serene
the evidence of things not seen

My God has revealed the evidence
His glorious power with consequence

Healing me and making me clean
the evidence of things not seen

Faith in Christ without reservation
releaved the pain of my aberration
So open His book to see what I mean
the evidence of things not seen

Faith is the substance of things hoped for
the evidence of things not seen

poem by Amera Andersen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!