Citatepedia^®.com

In general, the Internet was not designed to accommodate deliberate failures to communicate.

quote by Daniel J. Bernstein
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Through the eyes of a Field Coronet (Epic)

Introduction

In the kaki coloured tent in Umbilo he writes
his life’s story while women, children and babies are dying,
slowly but surely are obliterated, he see how his nation is suffering
while the events are notched into his mind.

Lying even heavier on him is the treason
of some other Afrikaners who for own gain
have delivered him, to imprisonment in this place of hatred
and thoughts go through him to write a book.

Prologue

The Afrikaner nation sprouted
from Dutchmen,
who fought decades without defeat
against the super power Spain

mixed with French Huguenots
who left their homes and belongings,
with the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
Associate this then with the fact

that these people fought formidable
for seven generations
against every onslaught that they got
from savages en wild animals

becoming marksmen, riding
and taming wild horses
with one bullet per day
to hunt a wild antelope,

who migrated right across the country
over hills in mass protest
and then you have
the most formidable adversary
and then let them fight

in a natural wilderness
where the hunter,
the sniper and horseman excels
and any enemy is at a lost.

Let them then also be patriotic
into their souls,
believe in and read
out of the word of God

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Failures

When failures come, oh, do not fret;
For failures, you must not regret;
Through failures, one can turn perfect,
As failure isn’t a great defect!

Each failure gives us chance again;
Through failures, we have much to gain;
So, failures are a boon, not bane;
Yes, failures make a man much sane!

All cannot win in life always;
Set-backs do come to us some days;
With failures, one makes strong a base;
Our failures bestow bolder face!

With failures come, added wisdom;
’Tis hard to hold a large kingdom;
Failures in life are much welcome,
As successes will always come.

Failures help us to love God more;
Failures are winning signs in core;
Failures can open newer door;
Failures can take us to the fore!

Which man on earth had always won?
With rain, there comes a brighter sun;
With failures, one can have much fun;
Failures aid us to faster run!

Failures can help us fare better;
Failures aren’t man’s strongest fetter;
Failures are just a trend-setter;
Failures make us a win-getter!

By failures, one can stop awhile;
Through failures, you run longer mile;
Failures do not remain life’s bile;
Failures help us finish in style!

Failures help us see truth again;
Failures remove the pride and feign;
Failures help us take newer lane;
Failures help us win in the main!

Through failures, we begin again,
And success smiles, easing out pain!

Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-17-2010

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

Peace Proposal

Said General Clay to General Gore really must we fight this silly war
To kill and die in such a bore I quite agree said General Gore
Said General Gore to General Clay we could go to the beach today
And have some icecream on the way a grand idea said General Clay
Said General Clay to General Gore we'll build sand castles on the shore
Said General Gore we'll splash and play let's leave right now said General Clay
Said General Gore to General Clay but what if the sea's closed today
And what if the sand's been blown away the dreadful thought said General Clay
Said General Gore to General Clay I've always feared the ocean's spray
And we may drown it's true we may it chills my blood said General Clay
Said General Clay to General Gore my bathin' suit is slightly tore
We better go on with our war I quite agree said General Gore
The General Clay chanrged General Gore as bullets flew and cannons roared
And now at last there is no more of General Clay or General Gore

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Generals

Said General Clay to General Gore,
'Oh must we fight this silly war?
To kill and die is such a bore.'
'I quite agree,' said General Gore.
Said General Gore to General Clay,
'We could go to the beach today
And have some ice cream on the way.'
'A grand idea,' said General Clay.
Said General Gore to General Clay,
'But what if the sea is closed today?
And what if the sand's been blown away?'
'A dreadful thought,' said General Clay.
Said General Gore to General Clay,
'I've always feared the ocean's spray,
And we may drown!' 'It's true, we may.
It chills my blood,' said General Clay.
Said General Clay to General Gore,
'My bathing suit is slightly tore.
We'd better go on with our war.'
'I quite agree,' said General Gore.
Then General Clay charged General Gore
As bullets flew and cannons roared.
And now, alas! there is no more
Of General Clay or General Gore.

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Stream Line Consciousness

Big brother voyeur blimps unidentified spies
uncle sam peeping toms patrolling skies
bird brain police intelligence
remote viewing homeland pest control
pentagon private eye monitoring the public's every move
mass produced micro chips intercepting prayers patrolling citizens from heaven
Bentham's Panopticon NSA
super computer surveillance cameras
world police spying Manhattan streets

'Athens plummets Euro death spiral
suicide rates soar deepening into despair'

haaretz..the post.. the times
blogs tribunes dailies all in a mad gab
headlong headline attention grabbing scramble

'Yugoslavia - Iraq - Egypt - Yemen - Iran - Syria - United States'
bilderberg building blocks New American Century post apocalyptic prophecy

'foreign mercenaries …national guard...DOD
homeland security to amass covert munitions stockpile
Americans on guard anxieties mounting surrounding
the stripping of amendments 1st if you swing to your left
2nd if you stand on the right
whispers of martial law circulate Anarchical reverberations
emanate from internet Alt culture epicenters
bottle necking global tensions'

'common feeling of deepening disappointment...
heightened expectations...
people expecting an explosive situation over the
next few weeks'

...riot police respond 'to preserve public order'
public roads barricaded to 'protect security of citizens'

'blatant act of censorship
western mainstream media staying away
from Myanmar massacres of Mohammedan Angels
further showing strong anti Muslim bias'

'Media blackout Burmese army
seeking coverage under propaganda blankets'

from the middle east throughout the western world
planet consciousness blurring lines between conspiracy/reality
conflicting global network narratives multiply violent scenarios daily
Victims in a world wide scramble
Government Banking Military

[...] Read more

poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

L'internet 1998 with Khemi 0865

L'Internet
Couplet
L'Internet,
C'est un écran magique quand tu t'ennuies les doigts
C'est un écran magique quand tu t'ennuies les doigts
Et des images toniques pour éveiller en toi
Des mondes imaginaires où tu deviens le roi

L'Internet,
C'est un écran magique quand tu tourn's en ronde
C'est un tapis volant sur les réseaux du monde
C'est la souris glissant, c'est l'écho qui répond

Refrain
Secoue-toi les méninges, t'es plus au temps des singes!
C'est l'heure de l'Internet -
C'est toi même que tu fêtes!

L'Internet pour partager son bout du monde
Partout en France s'éveillent des envies très profondes
Ensemble on bâtira notre intermonde

Couplet
L'Internet
C'est un espace à toi où tu prends la parole
C'est un espace pour moi où s'échangent les symboles
C'est un espace en nous adieu les vieilles écoles

De nouveaux métiers vont baisser le chômage
L'écol' va s'y brancher, on trouvera des stages
Allons fêter ce Net qui brisera les cages.

Pont
Car l'Internet ça sert à ouvrir les esprits
Les repères des pépères pour nous c'est tout fini
A portée de souris cliquons sur l'Internet
Les changements dans l'air feront bouger la vie
Car surfer pour tout faire c'est déjà aujourd'hui
J'te l'dis tout Net t'es sur l'Internet

Refrain
Secoue-toi les méninges, t'es plus au temps des singes!
C'est l'heure de l'Internet -
C'est toi même que tu fêtes!

L'Internet pour partager son bout du monde
Partout en France s'éveillent des envies très profondes
Viens avec nous bâtir notre intermonde

(2 February 1998)

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

Internet Fête 1998 English Version 0865

Come to Planet Internet
I know today both work and play will change with Internet,
Now dark and fair exchange mail, share together, soul sincere.
Then surf here there and everywhere to web sites far and near.
Each in his way his part shall play to make this day a fête,
Ring in the mind bells all will find sing through the alphabet.
New ventures start which wide worlds chart, and so it does appear
E-Mail can bring true joy this Spring, to all who volunteer, -
Thus those apart can heart to heart converse without regret.

From hemisphere to hemisphere a global town can yet
Emerge to urge investment surge, as false fears disappear.
The tongues of man will somehow scan - Goethe, Racine and Shakespeare.
Efforts will be rewarded, - we past problems shall forget.
Needs, hopes, combine for future fine as unemployment's threat
Is overcome, leaves critics dumb, as progress from this year
New hope for scope shows - most can cope on-line, can persevere,
Enjoyment all can find to call a friend, or good news get.

Though some may find they're left behind by talk of 'netiquette', -
Each bug dismays, as do delays, the words seem odd and queer -
Electric age now writes new page upon a fresh frontier
Normal today is change - who'd say strange is Fate's silhouette?
Now though some sneer while others jeer, nostalgic some regret,
Is ours an earth throughout whose girth spreads universal cheer?
New methods learn, new freedoms earn, turn to your neighbour here -
Exchange your views with whom you choose - screen faster is than jet!

Those who home stay, who work or roam, few know not care or fret -
Youth's fears, those age imagines, veer from truth to views unclear.
Each in his way must help relay this song both load and clear
In order to discover new ideas through internet!
Great is the chance, in England, France, - world-wide the scene is set!
Here me and you, our children too, can a new message hear,
Through every land can, hand in hand, the future pioneer.
Join in the dance, let us advance and fête the internet!

Internet Fête 1998 French Version 0865
Ici en France les choses avancent et grâce à Internet
Nous pouvons suivre et vivre aussi les changements de vie
Tantôt troublants, tantôt grisants, - le partage est mot qui
Est à la mode où tous ces codes parfois montent à la tête.
Regard nouveau - et pas trop tôt - tourne vers l'Internet,
Nos têtes blondes et brunes sondent une autre galaxie
Echangeant méls par modem - elles inventent jeux aussi.

Travail, hobbies, dans tous pays de nouvelles formes revêtent.
France d'abord et puis encore au monde on fait la fête
En ce printemps où la chanson est gaie et réussie,
Toujours, c'est sûr, ensemble pour s'amuser et aussi

[...] Read more

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

General John

The bravest names for fire and flames
And all that mortal durst,
Were GENERAL JOHN and PRIVATE JAMES,
Of the Sixty-seventy-first.

GENERAL JOHN was a soldier tried,
A chief of warlike dons;
A haughty stride and a withering pride
Were MAJOR-GENERAL JOHN'S.

A sneer would play on his martial phiz,
Superior birth to show;
"Pish!" was a favourite word of his,
And he often said "Ho! ho!"

FULL-PRIVATE JAMES described might be,
As a man of a mournful mind;
No characteristic trait had he
Of any distinctive kind.

From the ranks, one day, cried PRIVATE JAMES,
"Oh! MAJOR-GENERAL JOHN,
I've doubts of our respective names,
My mournful mind upon.

"A glimmering thought occurs to me
(Its source I can't unearth),
But I've a kind of a notion we
Were cruelly changed at birth.

"I've a strange idea that each other's names
We've each of us here got on.
Such things have been," said PRIVATE JAMES.
"They have!" sneered GENERAL JOHN.

"My GENERAL JOHN, I swear upon
My oath I think 'tis so - "
"Pish!" proudly sneered his GENERAL JOHN,
And he also said "Ho! ho!"

"My GENERAL JOHN! my GENERAL JOHN!
My GENERAL JOHN!" quoth he,
"This aristocratical sneer upon
Your face I blush to see!

"No truly great or generous cove
Deserving of them names,
Would sneer at a fixed idea that's drove
In the mind of a PRIVATE JAMES!"

[...] Read more

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

I.S.T.F. Roadmap

I.S.T.F. ROADMAP
ISTF has [s]talked since first with Vint
S ome sought to scan tomorrow's open source.
T is time we walked unaided on our course
F uture trends anticipating, mint
I deals which stand the test of time, gold glint.
S trength shines out through consensus not through force,
T hrough understanding issues! Reinforce
F irst principles, the mission we imprint
I n trust stands out to network. Take the hint
S hare knowledge, raise awareness, and endorse
T he right to freedom which to all, perforce,
F ine rings though few do practice, many stint.
IS Task Force steady, which won't self defeat?
IS Task Force ready, challenges to meet?

5 November 2001 I S T F
robi03_0968_robi03_0000 ASX_EXX

note: The former Internet Societal Task Force launched in 1999 by Vint Cerf as Chair of the Internet Society was dechartered in December 2001 when ISOC felt that societal priorities in respect of Networking in general and the Internet in particular were straying from its fee paying corporate Organisation Members base.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
INTERNET SOCIETAL TASK FORCE
Some talk of structures predefined with skill
Others of those constituencies which
Can be informed, or made aware, enriched.
Internet as rainbow vector will
Enliven, colour, change or sometimes kill
The status quo to flow, to grow to switch
Accepted views, traditions, and unstitch
Links which once bent mankind to rulers' will.
The rate of change increases yet we still
Are tempted to retain old habits, kitsch.
Some dare not redefine thought frames that itch.
Knowledge cross-pollination won't stand still -
FOR we must act, anticipate, and guide,
CEment, explain, invent the future's tide!

21 July 1999
robi03_0894_robi03_0000 ASX_EJO
acrostic sonnet Task Force © Jonathan Robin

note: The former Internet Societal Task Force launched in 1999 by Vint Cerf as Chair of the Internet Society was dechartered in December 2001 when ISOC felt that societal priorities in respect of Networking in general and the Internet in particular were straying from its fee paying corporate Organisation Members base.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIII

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

Hieroglyphic Beguile Meant

HIEROGLYPHIC BEGUILE...MEANT

I sought inspiring way to play “beguile”
blood's flood rush-blushing flush, then hibernate,
lush, hid ‘mid hieroglyphics of soft smile.
It dawned that very few can reconcile
emotions' brakes while breaking conscious state,
to draw more definitions for “beguile”.
Most, blind behind closed minds, can’t conjugate
dimensions manifold, unfold, translate,
decypher hieroglyphics of soft smile.

It takes so many lifetimes to compile
right signals light, bright eyes communicate
decoding definitions for “beguile”
into word worlds both varied, versatile,
deep, difficult to truly contemplate -
expanding hieroglyphics of soft smile.
Content observing content, context, style,
expressive inner eyes deliberate,
a worthwhile definition for “beguile”,
hidden in hieroglyphics of soft smile.

There are two definitions for “beguile”
one shares, one snares love, fair disguising hate -
what’s truth mid hieroglyphics of Your smile?
What if snare scare replaced rare care to dial
confusion more than loving fusion’s state,
refusal, ersatz aura ringed by rile?
What if those hieroglyphics hid heart vile,
whose slyness surface smiles would compensate
with blushing rushes should “beguile” prove guile.

What would remain of love’s fair sceptered isle?
Who could clear conscience e’er exonerate
from name of blame whose fame would flame defile,
mark Lethe dark, where no stark hopes beguile
lost soul, shade forfeit, damned, banned, intestate
parody pornographic, mercantile.

True torment, false beguilement takes to trial,
ensures despair, bare cell disconsolate,
Cupid's gilt arrows dipped in venom vile -
envy, greed, to feed perversions' weight
with appetites that needs exaggerate,
deform, intentions turned from narrow, straight,
to swift descent from paradise exile,
sharp fall before dupe hieroglyphic smile! ...

[...] Read more

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

Internet Fête 1998 French Version 0865

Ici en France les choses avancent et grâce à Internet
Nous pouvons suivre et vivre aussi les changements de vie
Tantôt troublants, tantôt grisants, - le partage est mot qui
Est à la mode où tous ces codes parfois montent à la tête.
Regard nouveau - et pas trop tôt - tourne vers l'Internet,
Nos têtes blondes et brunes sondent une autre galaxie
Echangeant méls par modem - elles inventent jeux aussi.

Travail, hobbies, dans tous pays de nouvelles formes revêtent.
France d'abord et puis encore au monde on fait la fête
En ce printemps où la chanson est gaie et réussie,
Toujours, c'est sûr, ensemble pour s'amuser et aussi
Essayer de cerner du jeu les termes et les requêtes.
Magique est site qui invite à planète Internet.
Ici le temps s'arrête dans l'élan qui l'ennuie
Laisse de côté pour naviguer au gré de la tempête
Lyrique du désir partout de découvrir dans cet
Ensemble un sens où dans la danse on avance et on rit
Niant le noir, trouvant l'espoir, écartant les soucis.

Et nous surfons, dialoguons, on vend et on achète
Unis par des moyens rêvés de s'offrir la gazette
Française, anglaise ou japonaise traitant d'économie,
Cuisine ou pêche on se dépêche en cernant l'alchimie
Entre l'étude d'habitudes étrangères et recettes
Nouvelles pour avancer sur la voie de 'Netiquette'.
Toutefois les uns, inopportuns pensent la technologie
Quand trop rapide apporte un vide où nul ne vérifie
Un virage ou bouleversement que rien n'arrête.

A chacun à sa façon de partager la fête
Tandis que les villes et cités en France sont unies.
Réussissons à l'unisson en changeant les esprits,
Ecartant les freins, les délais, les intérêts qui guettent!
Voyons plus loin quand dans son coin chacun de nous s'apprête
Intensément à trouver dans un job qui gratifie
Nouvel élan qui dans le temps évolue et fleurit.
Grande est l'espoir d'avancer car sur planète internet
Tout peut se faire, - idées prospèrent - évoluent à 'perpet'.

Dans l'univers nous allons vers des réseaux réunis
Information, formation tout au long de la vie -
Xtra la chance pour la France où l'espoir est très net.
Hier passé est dépassé par planète Internet -
Un virage, un bouleversement, arrive - on réagit!
Ici printemps, notre chanson est gaie et réussie,
Travail, hobbies, dans tous pays de nouvelles formes revêtent.

Come to Planet Internet
I know today both work and play will change with Internet,

[...] Read more

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

The Interpretation of Nature and

I.

MAN, being the servant and interpreter of Nature, can do and understand so much and so much only as he has observed in fact or in thought of the course of nature: beyond this he neither knows anything nor can do anything.


II.

Neither the naked hand nor the understanding left to itself can effect much. It is by instruments and helps that the work is done, which are as much wanted for the understanding as for the hand. And as the instruments of the hand either give motion or guide it, so the instruments of the mind supply either suggestions for the understanding or cautions.

III.

Human knowledge and human power meet in one; for where the cause is not known the effect cannot be produced. Nature to be commanded must be obeyed; and that which in contemplation is as the cause is in operation as the rule.

IV.

Towards the effecting of works, all that man can do is to put together or put asunder natural bodies. The rest is done by nature working within.

V.

The study of nature with a view to works is engaged in by the mechanic, the mathematician, the physician, the alchemist, and the magician; but by all (as things now are) with slight endeavour and scanty success.

VI.

It would be an unsound fancy and self-contradictory to expect that things which have never yet been done can be done except by means which have never yet been tried.

VII.

The productions of the mind and hand seem very numerous in books and manufactures. But all this variety lies in an exquisite subtlety and derivations from a few things already known; not in the number of axioms.

VIII.

Moreover the works already known are due to chance and experiment rather than to sciences; for the sciences we now possess are merely systems for the nice ordering and setting forth of things already invented; not methods of invention or directions for new works.

IX.

The cause and root of nearly all evils in the sciences is this -- that while we falsely admire and extol the powers of the human mind we neglect to seek for its true helps.

X.

The subtlety of nature is greater many times over than the subtlety of the senses and understanding; so that all those specious meditations, speculations, and glosses in which men indulge are quite from the purpose, only there is no one by to observe it.

XI.

As the sciences which we now have do not help us in finding out new works, so neither does the logic which we now have help us in finding out new sciences.

XII.

The logic now in use serves rather to fix and give stability to the errors which have their foundation in commonly received notions than to help the search after truth. So it does more harm than good.

XIII.

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Francis Bacon
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Canto the Eighth

I
Oh blood and thunder! and oh blood and wounds!
These are but vulgar oaths, as you may deem,
Too gentle reader! and most shocking sounds:
And so they are; yet thus is Glory's dream
Unriddled, and as my true Muse expounds
At present such things, since they are her theme,
So be they her inspirers! Call them Mars,
Bellona, what you will -- they mean but wars.

II
All was prepared -- the fire, the sword, the men
To wield them in their terrible array.
The army, like a lion from his den,
March'd forth with nerve and sinews bent to slay, --
A human Hydra, issuing from its fen
To breathe destruction on its winding way,
Whose heads were heroes, which cut off in vain
Immediately in others grew again.

III
History can only take things in the gross;
But could we know them in detail, perchance
In balancing the profit and the loss,
War's merit it by no means might enhance,
To waste so much gold for a little dross,
As hath been done, mere conquest to advance.
The drying up a single tear has more
Of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore.

IV
And why? -- because it brings self-approbation;
Whereas the other, after all its glare,
Shouts, bridges, arches, pensions from a nation,
Which (it may be) has not much left to spare,
A higher title, or a loftier station,
Though they may make Corruption gape or stare,
Yet, in the end, except in Freedom's battles,
Are nothing but a child of Murder's rattles.

V
And such they are -- and such they will be found:
Not so Leonidas and Washington,
Whose every battle-field is holy ground,
Which breathes of nations saved, not worlds undone.
How sweetly on the ear such echoes sound!
While the mere victor's may appal or stun
The servile and the vain, such names will be
A watchword till the future shall be free.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Sigismond And Guiscardo. From Boccace

While Norman Tancred in Salerno reigned,
The title of a gracious Prince he gained;
Till turned a tyrant in his latter days,
He lost the lustre of his former praise,
And from the bright meridian where he stood
Descending dipped his hands in lovers' blood.

This Prince, of Fortune's favour long possessed,
Yet was with one fair daughter only blessed;
And blessed he might have been with her alone,
But oh! how much more happy had he none!
She was his care, his hope, and his delight,
Most in his thought, and ever in his sight:
Next, nay beyond his life, he held her dear;
She lived by him, and now he lived in her.
For this, when ripe for marriage, he delayed
Her nuptial bands, and kept her long a maid,
As envying any else should share a part
Of what was his, and claiming all her heart.
At length, as public decency required,
And all his vassals eagerly desired,
With mind averse, he rather underwent
His people's will than gave his own consent.
So was she torn, as from a lover's side,
And made, almost in his despite, a bride.

Short were her marriage joys; for in the prime
Of youth, her lord expired before his time;
And to her father's court in little space
Restored anew, she held a higher place;
More loved, and more exalted into grace.
This Princess, fresh and young, and fair and wise,
The worshipped idol of her father's eyes,
Did all her sex in every grace exceed,
And had more wit beside than women need.

Youth, health, and ease, and most an amorous mind,
To second nuptials had her thoughts inclined;
And former joys had left a secret string behind.
But, prodigal in every other grant,
Her sire left unsupplied her only want,
And she, betwixt her modesty and pride,
Her wishes, which she could not help, would hide.

Resolved at last to lose no longer time,
And yet to please her self without a crime,
She cast her eyes around the court, to find
A worthy subject suiting to her mind,
To him in holy nuptials to be tied,
A seeming widow, and a secret bride.

[...] Read more

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

The Hind And The Panther, A Poem In Three Parts : Part III.

Much malice, mingled with a little wit,
Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ;
Because the muse has peopled Caledon
With panthers, bears, and wolves, and beasts unknown,
As if we were not stocked with monsters of our own.
Let Æsop answer, who has set to view
Such kinds as Greece and Phrygia never knew;
And Mother Hubbard, in her homely dress,
Has sharply blamed a British lioness;
That queen, whose feast the factious rabble keep,
Exposed obscenely naked, and asleep.
Led by those great examples, may not I
The wonted organs of their words supply?
If men transact like brutes, 'tis equal then
For brutes to claim the privilege of men.
Others our Hind of folly will indite,
To entertain a dangerous guest by night.
Let those remember, that she cannot die,
Till rolling time is lost in round eternity;
Nor need she fear the Panther, though untamed,
Because the Lion's peace was now proclaimed;
The wary savage would not give offence,
To forfeit the protection of her prince;
But watched the time her vengeance to complete,
When all her furry sons in frequent senate met;
Meanwhile she quenched her fury at the flood,
And with a lenten salad cooled her blood.
Their commons, though but coarse, were nothing scant,
Nor did their minds an equal banquet want.
For now the Hind, whose noble nature strove
To express her plain simplicity of love,
Did all the honours of her house so well,
No sharp debates disturbed the friendly meal.
She turned the talk, avoiding that extreme,
To common dangers past, a sadly-pleasing theme;
Remembering every storm which tossed the state,
When both were objects of the public hate,
And dropt a tear betwixt for her own children's fate.
Nor failed she then a full review to make
Of what the Panther suffered for her sake;
Her lost esteem, her truth, her loyal care,
Her faith unshaken to an exiled heir,
Her strength to endure, her courage to defy,
Her choice of honourable infamy.
On these, prolixly thankful, she enlarged;
Then with acknowledgments herself she charged;
For friendship, of itself an holy tie,
Is made more sacred by adversity.
Now should they part, malicious tongues would say,
They met like chance companions on the way,

[...] Read more

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

A Map Of Culture

Culture

Contents

What is Culture?

The Importance of Culture

Culture Varies

Culture is Critical

The Sociobiology Debate

Values, Norms, and Social Control

Signs and Symbols

Language

Terms and Definitions

Approaches to the Study of Culture

Are We Prisoners of Our Culture?

What is Culture?

I prefer the definition used by Ian Robertson: 'all the shared products of society: material and nonmaterial' (Our text defines it in somewhat more ponderous terms- 'The totality of learned, socially transmitted behavior. It includes ideas, values, and customs (as well as the sailboats, comic books, and birth control devices) of groups of people' (p.32) .

Back to Contents

[...] Read more

poem by Nyein Way
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Annus Mirabilis, The Year Of Wonders, 1666

1
In thriving arts long time had Holland grown,
Crouching at home and cruel when abroad:
Scarce leaving us the means to claim our own;
Our King they courted, and our merchants awed.

2
Trade, which, like blood, should circularly flow,
Stopp'd in their channels, found its freedom lost:
Thither the wealth of all the world did go,
And seem'd but shipwreck'd on so base a coast.

3
For them alone the heavens had kindly heat;
In eastern quarries ripening precious dew:
For them the Idumaean balm did sweat,
And in hot Ceylon spicy forests grew.

4
The sun but seem'd the labourer of the year;
Each waxing moon supplied her watery store,
To swell those tides, which from the line did bear
Their brimful vessels to the Belgian shore.

5
Thus mighty in her ships, stood Carthage long,
And swept the riches of the world from far;
Yet stoop'd to Rome, less wealthy, but more strong:
And this may prove our second Punic war.

6
What peace can be, where both to one pretend?
(But they more diligent, and we more strong)
Or if a peace, it soon must have an end;
For they would grow too powerful, were it long.

7
Behold two nations, then, engaged so far
That each seven years the fit must shake each land:
Where France will side to weaken us by war,
Who only can his vast designs withstand.

8
See how he feeds the Iberian with delays,
To render us his timely friendship vain:
And while his secret soul on Flanders preys,
He rocks the cradle of the babe of Spain.

9
Such deep designs of empire does he lay

[...] Read more

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

Carrolling - Parody Lewis CARROLL – The Mad Gardener’s Song

He thought he saw an Internet
exchanging peer to peer,
he looked again and hedged his bet, -
by middle of next year
new routing tables tuned as yet
unknown may well appear –
on track to trace attack and get
convictions based on fear.

He dreamt that spam would disappear,
all trash deleted fast.
He dreamt that Windows would be clear
of viral bugs’ wormcast.
He woke to find world insincere
where independence past
was sacrificed throughout the year
to biometrics ghast.

He thought he saw a friend’s hello
with an attachment piece,
he opened to discover, though,
a trojan horse release –
He looked again as data flow
declined, - mind not at peace -
and whispered with voice timbre low:
‘I’ll send for the Police! ”

He thought he saw a heirophant
predicting happy life.
He looked again, with rage and rant
discovered from ex-wife
an email angry claiming scant
support, which threatened strife:
“At length I see the immanent
attraction of Time’s knife! ”

He dreamt he saw as he awake
the euro reach a peak,
he saw he dreamt that Bush half bake
would leave the dollar weak: -
he woke to find what grave mistake
was made for the next week
the politicians put a stake
in budget – rocked boats leak!

He thought he saw Commission clerk
jump on bandwagon bus,
he looked again, just for a lark,
and found no tinker’s cuss
the former cared for bite was bark -

[...] Read more

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

A Code of Morals

Now Jones had left his new-wed bride to keep his house in order,
And hied away to the Hurrum Hills above the Afghan border,
To sit on a rock with a heliograph; but ere he left he taught
His wife the working of the Code that sets the miles at naught.

And Love had made him very sage, as Nature made her fair;
So Cupid and Apollo linked , per heliograph, the pair.
At dawn, across the Hurrum Hills, he flashed her counsel wise --
At e'en, the dying sunset bore her busband's homilies.

He warned her 'gainst seductive youths in scarlet clad and gold,
As much as 'gainst the blandishments paternal of the old;
But kept his gravest warnings for (hereby the ditty hangs)
That snowy-haired Lothario, Lieutenant-General Bangs.

'Twas General Bangs, with Aide and Staff, who tittupped on the way,
When they beheld a heliograph tempestuously at play.
They thought of Border risings, and of stations sacked and burnt --
So stopped to take the message down -- and this is whay they learnt --

"Dash dot dot, dot, dot dash, dot dash dot" twice. The General swore.
"Was ever General Officer addressed as 'dear' before?
"'My Love,' i' faith! 'My Duck,' Gadzooks! 'My darling popsy-wop!'
"Spirit of great Lord Wolseley, who is on that mountaintop?"

The artless Aide-de-camp was mute; the gilded Staff were still,
As, dumb with pent-up mirth, they booked that message from the hill;
For clear as summer lightning-flare, the husband's warning ran: --
"Don't dance or ride with General Bangs -- a most immoral man."

[At dawn, across the Hurrum Hills, he flashed her counsel wise --
But, howsoever Love be blind, the world at large hath eyes.]
With damnatory dot and dash he heliographed his wife
Some interesting details of the General's private life.

The artless Aide-de-camp was mute, the shining Staff were still,
And red and ever redder grew the General's shaven gill.
And this is what he said at last (his feelings matter not): --
"I think we've tapped a private line. Hi! Threes about there! Trot!"

All honour unto Bangs, for ne'er did Jones thereafter know
By word or act official who read off that helio.
But the tale is on the Frontier, and from Michni to Mooltan
They know the worthy General as "that most immoral man."

poem by Rudyard Kipling
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Centerarian's Story

GIVE me your hand, old Revolutionary;
The hill-top is nigh--but a few steps, (make room, gentlemen;)
Up the path you have follow'd me well, spite of your hundred and
extra years;
You can walk, old man, though your eyes are almost done;
Your faculties serve you, and presently I must have them serve me.

Rest, while I tell what the crowd around us means;
On the plain below, recruits are drilling and exercising;
There is the camp--one regiment departs to-morrow;
Do you hear the officers giving the orders?
Do you hear the clank of the muskets? 10

Why, what comes over you now, old man?
Why do you tremble, and clutch my hand so convulsively?
The troops are but drilling--they are yet surrounded with smiles;
Around them, at hand, the well-drest friends, and the women;
While splendid and warm the afternoon sun shines down;
Green the midsummer verdure, and fresh blows the dallying breeze,
O'er proud and peaceful cities, and arm of the sea between.
But drill and parade are over--they march back to quarters;
Only hear that approval of hands! hear what a clapping!

As wending, the crowds now part and disperse--but we, old man, 20
Not for nothing have I brought you hither--we must remain;
You to speak in your turn, and I to listen and tell.

THE CENTENARIAN.

When I clutch'd your hand, it was not with terror;
But suddenly, pouring about me here, on every side,
And below there where the boys were drilling, and up the slopes they
ran,
And where tents are pitch'd, and wherever you see, south and south-
east and south-west,
Over hills, across lowlands, and in the skirts of woods,
And along the shores, in mire (now fill'd over), came again, and
suddenly raged,
As eighty-five years agone, no mere parade receiv'd with applause of
friends,
But a battle, which I took part in myself--aye, long ago as it is, I
took part in it, 30
Walking then this hill-top, this same ground.

Aye, this is the ground;
My blind eyes, even as I speak, behold it re-peopled from graves;
The years recede, pavements and stately houses disappear;
Rude forts appear again, the old hoop'd guns are mounted;
I see the lines of rais'd earth stretching from river to bay;
I mark the vista of waters, I mark the uplands and slopes:

[...] Read more

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