What I fear most is power with impunity. I fear abuse of power, and the power to abuse.
quote by Isabel Allende
Added by Lucian Velea
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Losing Life to Fear
In fear of being heard,
In fear of being understood,
In fear of not being heard,
In fear of not being understood,
In fear of being misheard,
In fear of being misunderstood,
In fear of hearing too much,
In fear of understanding too much,
In fear of saying too much,
In fear of saying too little,
In fear of being too enlightened,
In fear of not being factually correct,
In fear of being too bright,
In fear of being too ignorant,
In fear of being praised,
In fear of being bullied,
In fear of not being like others,
In fear of loosing my individuality,
In fear of being ostracized,
In fear of being camouflaged,
[...] Read more
poem by Suraj Samtani
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Fears of a teenage mafioso
Fear of love,
Fear of pain,
Fear of the unforgiving cane,
Fear of lies,
Fear of sighs,
Fear of those distraught eyes,
Fear for the unknown,
Fear for the known,
Fear of everything combined,
Fear is what makes me blind,
Fear is what makes me think,
and act in blind accordance,
Hindering the world around me,
Hence, My Fear of myself
Fear is when you run away,
Fear is when you’re scared to love someone,
Fear is when the sky turns grey,
Fear of confusion,
Fear is like a dark blue ocean,
Fear won’t let me escape
Fear mocks me, watching
Fear taunts me, waiting
Fear of losing,
Fear you cannot see,
Fear dealt upon thee.
Fear of darkness and death,
Fear of a dead comrade,
Fear of a gun being cocked,
Fear of being endlessly stalked,
Fear of time,
Fear of all the crime,
Fear of the undesirable truth,
Fear for the good.
Fear for the sake of life,
Fear of the neighbors next door,
Fear of the secretive man in the subway,
Fear of the revolutionary uproar,
Fear is to not rejoice your living,
Fear for the sake of your life,
But to fear is to forsake it.
Fear is to have no hope in life,
Fear of the fear of fear,
We need no reason to fear,
For fear has no reason for itself.
I guess life is just like that,
To fear for no reason,
For to fear is not to reason,
But to reason is to fear.
To fear for the sake of fear,
Is fear for fear,
[...] Read more
poem by David daveres
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There Is Nothing Wrong With Power
'Tis sad to think that many with power abuse it those with power who abuse it weak not strong
There is nothing wrong with having power in the first place it is the abuse of it that is all wrong
For the abuse of power leads to serious crimes against the powerless though power in good hands it is quite okay
And good people with power never do abuse it they use it in the most constructive way
Some people with power are quite benign people and philanthropic one of them can say
But those who abuse their power to the law may never answer though to karma there's a price they have to pay
The abuse of power leads to dictatorial regimes that leads to serious crimes against humanity
In the despicable crimes against women and children the wrongs of power gone wrong for all to see
The people who abuse their power should never have it though to their power they desperately do cling
Power in the right hands an adavantage to others and power in the wrong hands is a dangerous thing
There is nothing wrong with power from once 'tis used well but some with power they do abuse their rule
And some with power they can become quite nasty and derive pleasure out of being cruel
But power in the right hands can be a blessing and kind people with power their praise we ought sing
Since they have the gift of empathy within them and happiness to others they do bring.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Woman Power
Youve heard of woman nation,
Well, thats coming, baby.
What we need is the power of trust,
That its coming.
Youve heard of the law of selection,
Well, thats how were gonna do it, baby.
We allow men who wanna join us
The rest can just stay by themselves.
Woman power! (woman power!)
Woman power! (woman power!)
Two thousand years of male society,
Laying fear and tyranny.
Seeking grades and money,
Clinging to values vain and phony.
Woman power! (woman power!)
Woman power! (woman power!)
Do you know that one day you lost your way, man?
Do you know that some day you have to pay, man?
Have you anything to say, man, except
Make no mistake about it, Im the president, you hear?
I wanna make one thing clear, Im the president, you hear?
Woman power! (woman power!)
Woman power! (woman power!)
You dont hear them singing songs,
You dont see them living life,
cause theyve got nothing to say, but
Make no mistake about it, Im the president, you hear?
I wanna make one thing clear, Im the president, you hear?
Woman power! (woman power!)
Woman power! (woman power!)
You may be the president now,
You may still be a man.
But you must also be a human,
So open up and join us in living.
Woman power! (woman power!)
Woman power! (woman power!)
In the coming age of feminine society,
Well regain our human dignity.
Well lay some truth and clarity
And bring back natures beauty.
Woman power! (woman power!)
Woman power! (woman power!)
Evry woman has a song to sing,
Evry woman has a story to tell.
Make no mistake about it, brothers,
We women have the power to move mountains.
Woman power! (woman power!)
Woman power! (woman power!)
Did you have to cook the meals?
Did you have to knit?
[...] Read more
song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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This Culture Of Impunity
This culture of impunity,
Raising up lack of unity,
Killing all the art of creativity,
Disregarding the countries majority,
Letting the country in hands of stupidity,
A people with no activity,
This culture of impunity,
One that is killing humanity,
Killing each other in the community,
A government of totality,
One that forgets society,
Breaching all the arts of morality,
This culture of impunity,
One that has forgotten reality,
Embracing mediocrity,
Leading to future uncertainty,
Activating public liability,
But concealing its materiality,
This culture of impunity.
poem by Maselo George
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Loath and Fear
If I would rely on phrenology,
Or science, or mythology,
I'd burn down this damned city
And disembark in a conclusion
Of the ugly veracity:
I loathe everything!
I fear everything!
I loathe that I am writing about loathing
And I fear that I might lose every one
Though I barely have anyone,
So I loathe even more on this fear.
I loathe that I write about myself all the time, and
I fear that I might not be writing at all
I loathe that I would narrate a story
In the surreal slopes of enigma, and
I fear, afterwards, that no one will pry
To understand or even console.
I loathe that my mouth cannot mouth
What my hands opted to write, and
I fear that my hands aren't equipped
To write what I cannot mouth.
I loathe even more that I build walls
For people to beat down and divulge
The forlorn boy inside, and yet
I fear to be found.
And I loathe to the point of breaking
That no one ever cared to pry
And that makes me shudder in fear, and
I fear this kind of loathing
And loathe this kind of fear.
I loathe that I cannot gain readers, and
I fear that I may never have
I loathe that readers appreciates the writing
But not the congealed brook
Between the lines of it, and
I fear that they might not even
Appreciate the spilled blood
In every line of it.
I loathe, I fear,
That apart from writing
I am never good at anything
Except maybe from fearing and loathing.
I loathe that I blame the past
For making me loathe a lot, and
For making me fear a lot
For making me loathe sports, and
For making me fear trying
And all the brusquely recreations
And the shame of failing.
I loathe, I fear,
[...] Read more
poem by Norman Santos
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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
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Girl Power
So what's up?
Did U forget I was here?
What makes U look when another comes near?
Everyone U see, U think U can get
If that was the case, I'd be a bracelet
Oh, hey hey, yeah
This is called girl power, yeah
This is called girl power and it's all because I love our ball
2night, my dear, U can sleep alone
U can beg and scream and moan
It's all because I love our ball
U can be mine or not at all
Girl power (Oh)
Girl power (Yeah)
Girl power (Yeah)
U can be mine or not at all
Girl Power (Oh)
Girl Power (Yeah)
Girl Power
It's all because I love our ball
Don't look now, here comes a blonde
2 minutes later U're Don Juan
Turned my head, U tried 2 grab it
How did I know she's in your lap?
U say it's your cousin from Omaha
U took that number - gave her a call
If we get in trouble 4 the lies we tell
Child, I do believe we're gonna burn in hell
Girl power - U will be mine or not at all
Girl power - It's all because I love our ball
Looka here
2night, my dear, U can sleep alone
U can beg, U can scream and moan
It's all because I love our ball
U can be mine or not at all
Girl power (Oh, yeah) (U can be mine or not at all)
Girl power
U will be mine or not at all
Girl power (Oh)
Girl power (Yeah)
Girl power
It's all because I love our ball
What makes U look when another comes near?
What makes the sun set in my hemisphere?
Girl power!
Powerful girl, wave your hands
(Girl power) {x4}
8 + 8 is 16
9 - 6 is 3
3 + 11 is 14
[...] Read more
song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Placed In Your Power...
Placed, in Your Power … Are Promises
Placed, in Your Power … Are Poultices
Placed, in Your Power … Are Prodigies
Placed, in Your Power … Are Possibilities
Placed in Your Power, is my Prolonging
Placed in Your Power, is my Performing
Placed in Your Power, is my Preparing
Placed in Your Power, is my Preferring
Placed in Your Power, is my Paternal Name
Placed in Your Power, is when Privileged Came
Placed in Your Power, is my Posturing
Placed in Your Power, is my Proverbing
Placed, in Your Power is This Pearl Moon
Polished like Pewter, in Deep Purple Room
Placed, in Your Power is… Precious Time
Points of No Return and … Past Our Prime
Placed, in Your Power is… my Patience – Soon
Placed, in Your Power is Pam’s Pregnant Womb
Placed, in Your Power is The Preacher’s Prize
Placed, in Your Power… is Path to Paradise
Placed, in Your Power is … The Perfection
Placed, in Your Power is … The Protection
Placed, in Your Power is The Position… Plus
Placed, in Your Power is … The Purpose of Us
Placed, in Your Power, is … The Pure-Pleasure
Phases Out Phony, Polluted, and Plastic Peer-Pressure
Placed, in Your Power is … Permanent Productivity
Your Power, Has The Part… to Produce Panache - Proclivity
Placed, in Your Power are: Pertinent Pens and Pages
Placed, in Your Power, means - not Pinched but Pervasive
Placed, in Your Power is … Potently - Persuasive
Placed, in Your Power is … Posterity - Progressive
Placed, in Your Power … Are Poems and Prose
Placed, in Your Power is … This Pink Primrose…
… and Periwinkles, Petunias, Plums, Peaches and Pears
Partridges, Peacocks, and … Passionate People in Pairs
Placed, in Your Power is … Our Paramount Peace
Placed, in Your Power is … All Our … Please!
… and Public Praise… Private Prayers and Perpetual Psalms
For Each Particular Portrait, is in The Power of Your Palm
poem by MoonBee Canady
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XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Witch of Hebron
A Rabbinical Legend
Part I.
From morn until the setting of the sun
The rabbi Joseph on his knees had prayed,
And, as he rose with spirit meek and strong,
An Indian page his presence sought, and bowed
Before him, saying that a lady lay
Sick unto death, tormented grievously,
Who begged the comfort of his holy prayers.
The rabbi, ever to the call of grief
Open as day, arose; and girding straight
His robe about him, with the page went forth;
Who swiftly led him deep into the woods
That hung, heap over heap, like broken clouds
On Hebron’s southern terraces; when lo!
Across a glade a stately pile he saw,
With gleaming front, and many-pillared porch
Fretted with sculptured vinage, flowers and fruit,
And carven figures wrought with wondrous art
As by some Phidian hand.
But interposed
For a wide space in front, and belting all
The splendid structure with a finer grace,
A glowing garden smiled; its breezes bore
Airs as from paradise, so rich the scent
That breathed from shrubs and flowers; and fair the growths
Of higher verdure, gemm’d with silver blooms,
Which glassed themselves in fountains gleaming light
Each like a shield of pearl.
Within the halls
Strange splendour met the rabbi’s careless eyes,
Halls wonderful in their magnificance,
With pictured walls, and columns gleaming white
Like Carmel’s snow, or blue-veined as with life;
Through corridors he passed with tissues hung
Inwrought with threaded gold by Sidon’s art,
Or rich as sunset clouds with Tyrian dye;
Past lofty chambers, where the gorgeous gleam
Of jewels, and the stainèd radiance
Of golden lamps, showed many a treasure rare
Of Indian and Armenian workmanship
Which might have seemed a wonder of the world:
And trains of servitors of every clime,
Greeks, Persians, Indians, Ethiopians,
In richest raiment thronged the spacious halls.
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Harpur
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Its That Fear
It's that fear
Ooo very scary! !
I bet you don't know it
Keeps you worried
It's that fear...
Very loud in your ear..
But not everyone could hear
It's that fear
Why? Y u even here
Leaving people in tears..
It's that fear
Born and raised
Can be of denial
Struggles, family or revival
It's that fear
That keeps consuming..
Consuming us in out! !
Eating us away...
It's that fear
The fear we hate
Come to us in pace
In life circumstance
It's that fear
Can anyone hear?
Like a monster or dear?
I wish it was fair..
it's that fear
Some say never fear
But in the back they tear
Overwhelmed can't even dare
Trying to overcome the fear..
It's that fear
The fear which keep us
Us alive and awake
Awake from unexpected
Awake to fight against
It's that fear
I want all to hear..
You and me here..
We need to chase Mr. Fear
[...] Read more
poem by Lulu Mero
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Gotham - Book II
How much mistaken are the men who think
That all who will, without restraint may drink,
May largely drink, e'en till their bowels burst,
Pleading no right but merely that of thirst,
At the pure waters of the living well,
Beside whose streams the Muses love to dwell!
Verse is with them a knack, an idle toy,
A rattle gilded o'er, on which a boy
May play untaught, whilst, without art or force,
Make it but jingle, music comes of course.
Little do such men know the toil, the pains,
The daily, nightly racking of the brains,
To range the thoughts, the matter to digest,
To cull fit phrases, and reject the rest;
To know the times when Humour on the cheek
Of Mirth may hold her sports; when Wit should speak,
And when be silent; when to use the powers
Of ornament, and how to place the flowers,
So that they neither give a tawdry glare,
'Nor waste their sweetness in the desert air;'
To form, (which few can do, and scarcely one,
One critic in an age, can find when done)
To form a plan, to strike a grand outline,
To fill it up, and make the picture shine
A full and perfect piece; to make coy Rhyme
Renounce her follies, and with Sense keep time;
To make proud Sense against her nature bend,
And wear the chains of Rhyme, yet call her friend.
Some fops there are, amongst the scribbling tribe,
Who make it all their business to describe,
No matter whether in or out of place;
Studious of finery, and fond of lace,
Alike they trim, as coxcomb Fancy brings,
The rags of beggars, and the robes of kings.
Let dull Propriety in state preside
O'er her dull children, Nature is their guide;
Wild Nature, who at random breaks the fence
Of those tame drudges, Judgment, Taste, and Sense,
Nor would forgive herself the mighty crime
Of keeping terms with Person, Place, and Time.
Let liquid gold emblaze the sun at noon,
With borrow'd beams let silver pale the moon;
Let surges hoarse lash the resounding shore,
Let streams meander, and let torrents roar;
Let them breed up the melancholy breeze,
To sigh with sighing, sob with sobbing trees;
Let vales embroidery wear; let flowers be tinged
With various tints; let clouds be laced or fringed,
They have their wish; like idle monarch boys,
Neglecting things of weight, they sigh for toys;
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Churchill
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The Cenci : A Tragedy In Five Acts
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
Count Francesco Cenci.
Giacomo, his Son.
Bernardo, his Son.
Cardinal Camillo.
Orsino, a Prelate.
Savella, the Pope's Legate.
Olimpio, Assassin.
Marzio, Assassin.
Andrea, Servant to Cenci.
Nobles, Judges, Guards, Servants.
Lucretia, Wife of Cenci, and Step-mother of his children.
Beatrice, his Daughter.
The Scene lies principally in Rome, but changes during the Fourth Act to Petrella, a castle among the Apulian Apennines.
Time. During the Pontificate of Clement VIII.
ACT I
Scene I.
-An Apartment in the Cenci Palace.
Enter Count Cenci, and Cardinal Camillo.
Camillo.
That matter of the murder is hushed up
If you consent to yield his Holiness
Your fief that lies beyond the Pincian gate.-
It needed all my interest in the conclave
To bend him to this point: he said that you
Bought perilous impunity with your gold;
That crimes like yours if once or twice compounded
Enriched the Church, and respited from hell
An erring soul which might repent and live:-
But that the glory and the interest
Of the high throne he fills, little consist
With making it a daily mart of guilt
As manifold and hideous as the deeds
Which you scarce hide from men's revolted eyes.
Cenci.
The third of my possessions-let it go!
Ay, I once heard the nephew of the Pope
Had sent his architect to view the ground,
Meaning to build a villa on my vines
The next time I compounded with his uncle:
I little thought he should outwit me so!
[...] Read more
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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myth and abuse...by Talile Ali
we all are human
what is the use
all are victims
of myth and abuse
humans like to mess around
we don't think we're sluts
only when it's women,
then we soil all they touch
add to that the reality of
old men with young girls together
we accept it like that as lust and love
older women and young boys together
we see as cougars out slumming with thugs
myth and abuse
myth and abuse
so much insanity
based on lies and misuse
myth and abuse
myth and abuse
the bible or the Koran
to abuse our needs, such a ruse
so if you feel you
have a right to mess around and feed
cause your better half is dead
or even worse won't address your needs
no matter what the gender
be you male or female
you got to be yourself
and know you got to get nailed
we need to put an end
to all of this senseless abuse
we can shut down this game
and help each other to see the truth
we find love where it is
and thats just a fact
so long as they are adults
and mature, not just an act
end the myth and abuse
by being thoughtful and secure
and not deceiving each other
just to manipulate and procure
[...] Read more
poem by Talile Ali
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Fear
Fear of seeing a police car pull into the drive.
Fear of falling asleep at night.
Fear of not falling asleep.
Fear of the past rising up.
Fear of the present taking flight.
Fear of the telephone that rings in the dead of night.
Fear of electrical storms.
Fear of the cleaning woman who has a spot on her cheek!
Fear of dogs I've been told won't bite.
Fear of anxiety!
Fear of having to identify the body of a dead friend.
Fear of running out of money.
Fear of having too much, though people will not believe this.
Fear of psychological profiles.
Fear of being late and fear of arriving before anyone else.
Fear of my children's handwriting on envelopes.
Fear they'll die before I do, and I'll feel guilty.
Fear of having to live with my mother in her old age, and mine.
Fear of confusion.
Fear this day will end on an unhappy note.
Fear of waking up to find you gone.
Fear of not loving and fear of not loving enough.
Fear that what I love will prove lethal to those I love.
Fear of death.
Fear of living too long.
Fear of death.
I've said that.
poem by Raymond Clevie Carver
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Power To The People
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
Say you want a revolution
We better get on right away
Well you get on your feet
And out on the street
Singing power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
A million workers working for nothing
You better give em what they really own
We got to put you down
When we come into town
Singing power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
I gotta ask you comrades and brothers
How do you treat you own woman back home
She got to be herself
So she can free herself
Singing power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
Now, now, now, now
Oh well, power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
Yeah, power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
song performed by Lennon John
Added by Lucian Velea
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Power To The People
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people, right on!
Say we want a revolution,
Wed better get it on right away.
Well, get yer on your feet
And into the street, singing:
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people, right on!
A million workers workin for nothin,
You better give em what they really own.
We got to put you down
When we come into town, singing:
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people, right on!
I gotta ask you comrades and brothers,
How do you treat your own woman back home?
Shes got to be herself,
So she can give us help, singing:
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people, right on!
Now, now, now, now!
Oh well, power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people, right on!
Oh yeah, power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people, right on!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, power to the people!
Power to the people!
Oh well, power to the people!
Power to the people, right on!
song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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Venus and Adonis
'Vilia miretur vulgus; mihi flavus Apollo
Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua.'
To the right honorable Henry Wriothesly, Earl of Southampton, and Baron of Tichfield.
Right honorable.
I know not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to your lordship, nor how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burden only, if your honour seem but pleased, I account myself highly praised, and vow to take advantage of all idle hours, till I have honoured you with some graver labour. But if the first heir of my invention prove deformed, I shall be sorry it had so noble a god-father, and never after ear so barren a land, for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest. I leave it to your honourable survey, and your honour to your heart's content; which I wish may always answer your own wish and the world's hopeful expectation.
Your honour's in all duty.
Even as the sun with purple-colour'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase;
Hunting he loved, but love he laugh'd to scorn;
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-faced suitor 'gins to woo him.
'Thrice-fairer than myself,' thus she began,
'The field's chief flower, sweet above compare,
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,
More white and red than doves or roses are;
Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.
'Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,
And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow;
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed
A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know:
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses,
And being set, I'll smother thee with kisses;
'And yet not cloy thy lips with loathed satiety,
But rather famish them amid their plenty,
Making them red and pale with fresh variety,
Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:
A summer's day will seem an hour but short,
Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.'
With this she seizeth on his sweating palm,
The precedent of pith and livelihood,
And trembling in her passion, calls it balm,
Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good:
Being so enraged, desire doth lend her force
Courageously to pluck him from his horse.
Over one arm the lusty courser's rein,
Under her other was the tender boy,
Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain,
With leaden appetite, unapt to toy;
She red and hot as coals of glowing fire,
He red for shame, but frosty in desire.
The studded bridle on a ragged bough
Nimbly she fastens:--O, how quick is love!--
The steed is stalled up, and even now
To tie the rider she begins to prove:
[...] Read more
poem by William Shakespeare
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Satan Absolved
(In the antechamber of Heaven. Satan walks alone. Angels in groups conversing.)
Satan. To--day is the Lord's ``day.'' Once more on His good pleasure
I, the Heresiarch, wait and pace these halls at leisure
Among the Orthodox, the unfallen Sons of God.
How sweet in truth Heaven is, its floors of sandal wood,
Its old--world furniture, its linen long in press,
Its incense, mummeries, flowers, its scent of holiness!
Each house has its own smell. The smell of Heaven to me
Intoxicates and haunts,--and hurts. Who would not be
God's liveried servant here, the slave of His behest,
Rather than reign outside? I like good things the best,
Fair things, things innocent; and gladly, if He willed,
Would enter His Saints' kingdom--even as a little child.
[Laughs. I have come to make my peace, to crave a full amaun,
Peace, pardon, reconcilement, truce to our daggers--drawn,
Which have so long distraught the fair wise Universe,
An end to my rebellion and the mortal curse
Of always evil--doing. He will mayhap agree
I was less wholly wrong about Humanity
The day I dared to warn His wisdom of that flaw.
It was at least the truth, the whole truth, I foresaw
When He must needs create that simian ``in His own
Image and likeness.'' Faugh! the unseemly carrion!
I claim a new revision and with proofs in hand,
No Job now in my path to foil me and withstand.
Oh, I will serve Him well!
[Certain Angels approach. But who are these that come
With their grieved faces pale and eyes of martyrdom?
Not our good Sons of God? They stop, gesticulate,
Argue apart, some weep,--weep, here within Heaven's gate!
Sob almost in God's sight! ay, real salt human tears,
Such as no Spirit wept these thrice three thousand years.
The last shed were my own, that night of reprobation
When I unsheathed my sword and headed the lost nation.
Since then not one of them has spoken above his breath
Or whispered in these courts one word of life or death
Displeasing to the Lord. No Seraph of them all,
Save I this day each year, has dared to cross Heaven's hall
And give voice to ill news, an unwelcome truth to Him.
Not Michael's self hath dared, prince of the Seraphim.
Yet all now wail aloud.--What ails ye, brethren? Speak!
Are ye too in rebellion? Angels. Satan, no. But weak
With our long earthly toil, the unthankful care of Man.
Satan. Ye have in truth good cause.
Angels. And we would know God's plan,
His true thought for the world, the wherefore and the why
Of His long patience mocked, His name in jeopardy.
[...] Read more
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Added by Poetry Lover
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