Johannis Trottii Epitaphium
Charissimo Filio &c.
Pater & Mater &c.
funebrem tabulam curavimus.
Age Marmor, & pro solita tua hxmanitate,
(Ne inter Parentum Dolorem & Modestiam
Supprimantur praeclari Juvenis meritae laudes)
Effare Johannis Trottii breve Elogium.
Erat ille totus Candidus, Politus, Solidus,
Ultra vel Parii Marmoris metaphoram,
Et Gemma Sculpi dignus, non Lapide:
E Schola Wintoniensi ad Academiam Oxonii,
Inde ad Interioris Templi Hospitium gradum fecerat:
Summae Spei, Summae Indolis, ubique vestigia reliquit;
Supra Sexum Venustus,
Supra Aetatem Doctus,
Ingeniosus supra Fidem.
Et jam vicesimum tertium annum inierat,
Pulcherrimo undequaque vitae prospectu,
Quem Mors immatura obstruxit.
Ferales Pustulae Corpus tam affabre factum
Ludibrio habuere, & vivo incrustarunt sepulchro.
Anima evasit Libera, Aeterna, Faelix,
Et morti insultans
Mortalem Sortem cum Foenore accipiet.
Nos interim, meri vespillones,
Parentes Filia extra ordinem Parentantes,
Subtus in gentilitio crypta reliquias composuimus,
Ipsi eandem ad Dei nutum subituri.
Natus est &c. Mortuus &c. reviviscet
Primo Resurrectionis.
poem by Andrew Marvell
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Ti Taglio La Gola
Riconoscenza...ma che scemenza
stato parlarti di me!
tu che sei solita, solita s!
ti piace...Divertirti...SI'!!!
Riconoscenza...ma che scemenza
stato fidarmi di te!
tu che sei solita, solita s
...SOLITA fare cos!!...
SOLITA...SOLITA...SOLITA...SOLITA...SOLITA SI'
SOLITA...SOLITA...SOLITA...SOLITA...A FARE COSI'
Prendimi l'anima ma...ridammi la Radio!!!
Da quando mi hai preso La Radio...
Non sono pi quello...
Non dormo pi, non mangio pi...
...sono UNO STRACCIO!!!
DAI RI...DAI RI...DAI RI...DAI RI...DAMMI LA MIA RADIO!
DAI RI...DAI RI...DAI RI...DAMMI LA MIA RADIO!!!
Prendimi l'ANIMA MA!!!
Ridammi la Radio!
appena ti prendo da sola...
Ti taglio la gola...ti taglio la gola....
APPENA TI PRENDO DA SOLA
TI TAGLIO LA GOLA!!!
Ma che CLEMENZA...LA DELINQUENZA...
"La vuole trattata cos;..."
LEI era solita, SOLITA SI'!!
e avrebbe fatto sempre cos...
SOLITA...SOLITA...SOLITA...SOLITA....SOLITA SI'!
SOLITA...SOLITA...SOLITA...SOLITA...A FARE COSI'
...prendimi l'anima ma...
...ridammi la RADIO!!!
APPENA TI PRENDO DA SOLA...
TI TAGLIO LA GOLA!!!!
song performed by Vasco Rossi
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
We Can Create A Modern International Community
And I wonder when Congress will allow public nationwide schools...
in the United States to set aside time for children again to pray?
To pray for, or quietly reflect on behalf of, their once great Nation!
To pray for their nation during this proclaimed danger time...
of struggle against the forces of evil dark international terrorism!
But in the White House lurks a dark soul of 100% fetus murder!
Barack against murder international terrorism with Pro-Abortion Record!
Like Pharaoh in the time of the birth of Moses, like King Harold at the birth of Jesus, killing innocent children based on state law is ok in America today!
Why? How can this be? On 9th of March 2008 Barack proclaimed “We were once were, we are no longer a Christian nation, at least not just....”
No Ten Commandments, No God’s law displayed in government buildings!
15th April 2009 Barack proclaimed “We can create a modern international community that is respectful that is secure that is prosperous....
(in an aside to himself) and like Baal Worshippers we will support propagate
State Policies funding killing innocent children against the will of the majority of Americans and I Barack will use tax payer dollars to kill innocent unborn! We will fill White House high office with Pro Abortion all! Yes We Can!
Darth Vader will create a universal New World Order!
And in the on going baby killing sweepstakes infant killer Obama selects: -
Pro-Abortion Sen. Joe Biden as Obama’s vice-presidential running mate. Pro-Abortion Rep. Rahm Emanuel as Obama’s White House Chief of Staff.
Pro-Abortion former Sen. Tom Daschle as Obama’s Health and Human Services Secretary.
Former NARAL legal director Dawn Johnsen to serve as a member of Obama’s Department of Justice Review Team. Next appointed Assistant Attorney General for the Office of the Legal Counsel.
Betta check Obama’s rap sheet Pro-Abortion Record, for the rest of his all star elite baby killing machine selections.
'President Barack Obama's Pro-Abortion Record: A Pro-Life Compilation
Washington, DC (LifeNews.com) - The following is a compilation of bill signings, speeches, appointments and other actions that President Barack Obama has engaged in that have promoted abortion before and during his presidency. While Obama has promised to reduce abortions and some of his supporters believe that will happen, this long list proves his only agenda is promoting more abortions.
During the presidential election, Obama selected pro-abortion Sen. Joe Biden as his vice-presidential running mate.
Post-Election / Pre-Inauguration
November 5,2008 - Obama selects pro-abortion Rep. Rahm Emanuel as his White House Chief of Staff. Emanuel has a 0% pro-life voting record according to National Right to Life.
November 19,2008 - Obama picks pro-abortion former Sen. Tom Daschle as his Health and Human Services Secretary. Daschle has a long pro-abortion voting record according to National Right to Life.
November 20,2008 - Obama chooses former NARAL legal director Dawn Johnsen to serve as a member of his Department of Justice Review Team. Later, he finalizes her appointment as the Assistant Attorney General for the Office of the Legal Counsel in the Obama administration.
November 24,2008 - Obama appoints Ellen Moran, the former director of the pro-abortion group Emily's List as his White House communications director. Emily's List only supports candidates who favored taxpayer funded abortions and opposed a partial-birth abortion ban.
November 24,2008 - Obama puts former Emily's List board member Melody Barnes in place as his director of the Domestic Policy Council.
November 30,2008 - Obama named pro-abortion Sen. Hillary Clinton as the Secretary of State. Clinton has an unblemished pro-abortion voting record and has supported making unlimited abortions an international right.
December 10,2008 - Obama selects pro-abortion former Clinton administration official Jeanne Lambrew to become the deputy director of the White House Office of Health Reform. Planned Parenthood is 'excited' about the selection.
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Soul
Nao acredites no que ves
segue o teu caminho como s
a culpa nao tua
lena, lena (a culpa nao tua)
nao acredites no que ves
segue o teu caminho como s
a culpa nao tua (a culpa nao tua) a culpa nao tua
Nao acredites em tudo o que ves, lena
tu bem tentas mas sera que vale a pena
a vida ensinou-te a respeitar as leis da rua
a verdade nua e crua mas a culpa nao tua
o teu pai nunca foi pai a tua mae nao ta presente
nao te deixes enganar porque toda a gente mente
tu sabes bem olhas a volta nao ves ningum
nao ha amigos nesta vida quem te da 50 tira 100
quanto mais tentas sair mais aprisionada estas
boa entre pessoas mas tarde pra voltar a tras
acordas a pensar onde foi que erraste
o que fizeste sera que tudo nao passa dum teste
Lena, Lena
e tudo o que tu qerias era estudar desenhar
nao te vao parar enquanto conseguires sonhar
olha pro cu, ve o teu futuro na lua
minha amiga, a culpa nao tua
Lena,
nao acredites no que ves
segue o teu caminho como s
a culpa n tua
lena, lena (a culpa nao tua)
nao acredites no que ves
segue o teu caminho como s
a culpa nao tua (a culpa nao tua) a culpa nao tua
Que te passa Lena?
nao te deixes abater mantem-te serena
tens de encontrar uma saida para o teu dilema
tu iluminas qualquer sala quando entras em cena
desde que s pequena , lena
a unica coisa q o teu pai te deu foi a vida
e derrepente estas num beco sem saida
esqece o teu passado o caminho em frente
nao ah duvidas , tu sempre foste diferente
o mais importante pra ti sao os teus papels
tu consegues sempre tudo o qe tu qeres
as vezes o mais facil fugir e nao olhar pra tras
mas estudar , e procurar, um pouco de paz
e quando passas pelo Cuerpo de Vigo
lembras-te do teu pai e tudo o qe passo contigo
e nesta puta yoh, no ya amigos
e tentas esqecer todos os peliglos
nao vale a pena, a vida muito pequena
[...] Read more
song performed by Incubus
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Soccer Rollback
soccer referee shirts and canada
soccer referee score pad
soccer referee shirts
soccer referee scorekeeping software pda
soccer referee score cards
soccer referee scorecard
soccer referee shane butler
soccer referee shirts and oklahoma
soccer referee score sheet
soccer referee schedules
soccer referee schedule template
soccer referee scorekeeping
soccer referee score keeping software pd
soccer referee scorekeeping software
soccer referee shirt
soccer referee school in calvert county
soccer referee score sheet printable
soccer referee school
soccer referee score pda
soccer referee scholarships in tx
soccer referee shirts ussf
soccer referee shoes wide
soccer referee shorts
soccer referee signals
soccer referee socks
soccer referee shirts and ottawa
soccer referee signal
soccer referee sterling va
soccer referee signals for indirect kick
soccer referee starter kit
soccer referee sites murray
soccer referee starter kits
soccer referee stop watch
soccer referee socks in nashville tn
soccer referee starter kit 38
soccer referee stuff
soccer referee store
soccer referee stores europe
soccer referee shoes
soccer referee software
soccer referee uniform new
soccer referee supplies and ohio
soccer referee supplies and washington
soccer referee training in danvers ma
soccer referee uniform
soccer referee template
soccer referee turf shoes
soccer referee supplies
soccer referee test
soccer referee training san diego ca
[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Edmundi Trotii Epitaphium
Charissimo Filio
Edmundo Trotio
Posuimus Pater & Mater
Frustra superstites.
Legite Parentes, vanissimus hominum ordo,
Figuli Filiorum, Substructores Hominum,
Fartores Opum, Longi Speratores,
Et nostro, si fas, sapite infortunio.
Fruit Edmundus Trottuis.
E quatuor masculae stirpis residuus,
Statura justa, Forma virili, specie eximic,
Medio juventutis Robore simul & Flore,
Alpectu, In cessu, sermone juxta amabilis,
Et siquid ultra Cineri pretium addit.
Honesta Diciplina domi imbutus,
Peregre profectus
Generosis Artibus Animum
Et exercitiis Corpus firmaverat.
Circaeam Insulam, Scopulos Sirenum
Praeternavigavit,
Et in hoc naufragio morum & saeculi
Solus perdiderat nihil, auxit plurimum.
Hinc erga Deum pietate,
Erga nos Amore & Obsequio,
Comitate erga Omnes, & intra se Modestia
Insignis, & quantaevis fortunae capax:
Delitiae Aequalium, Senum Plausus,
Oculi Parentum, (nunc, ah, Lachrymae)
In eo tandem peccavit quod mortalis.
Et fatali Pustularum morbo aspersus,
Factus est
(Ut verae Laudis Invidiam ficto Convitio levemus)
Proditor Amicorum, Parricida Parentum,
Familiae Spongia:
Et Naturae invertens ordinem
Nostri suique Contemptor,
Mundi Desertor, defecit ad Deum.
Undecimo Augusti; Aerae Christae 1667.
Talis quum fuerit Calo non invidemus.
poem by Andrew Marvell
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator
Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!
It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!
Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 18
Wolleward and weetshoed wente I forth after
As a recchelees renk that [reccheth of no wo],
And yede forth lik a lorel al my lif tyme,
Til I weex wery of the world and wilned eft to slepe,
And lened me to a Lenten - and longe tyme I slepte;
Reste me there and rutte faste til ramis palmarum.
Of gerlis and of Gloria, laus gretly me dremed
And how osanna by organye olde folk songen,
And of Cristes passion and penaunce, the peple that ofraughte.
Oon semblable to the Samaritan, and somdeel to Piers the Plowman,
Barefoot on an asse bak bootles cam prikye,
Withouten spores other spere; spakliche he loked,
As is the kynde of a knyght that cometh to be dubbed,
To geten hym gilte spores on galoches ycouped.
Thanne was Feith in a fenestre, and cryde 'At Fili David!'
As dooth an heraud of armes whan aventrous cometh to iustes.
Olde Jewes of Jerusalem for joye thei songen,
Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini.
Thanne I frayned at Feith what al that fare bymente,
And who sholde juste in Jerusalem. 'jesus,' he seide,
'And fecche that the fend claymeth - Piers fruyt the Plowman.'
'Is Piers in this place?' quod I, and he preynte on me.
'This Jesus of his gentries wol juste in Piers armes,
In his helm and in his haubergeon - humana natura.
That Crist be noght biknowe here for consummatus Deus,
In Piers paltok the Plowman this prikiere shal ryde;
For no dynt shal hym dere as in deitate Patris.'
'Who shal juste with Jesus?' quod I, 'Jewes or scrybes?'
'Nay,' quod Feith, 'but the fend and fals doom to deye.
Deeth seith he shal fordo and adoun brynge
Al that lyveth or loketh in londe or in watre.
Lif seith that he lieth, and leieth his lif to wedde
That, for al that Deeth kan do, withinne thre daies to walke
And fecche fro the fend Piers fruyt the Plowman,
And legge it ther hym liketh, and Lucifer bynde,
And forbete and adoun brynge bale-deeth for evere
O Mors ero mors tua!'
Thanne cam Pilatus with muche peple, sedens pro tribunali,
To se how doghtiliche Deeth sholde do, and deme hir botheres right.
The Jewes and the justieeayeins Jesu thei weere,
And al the court on hym cryde ' Crucifige!' sharpe.
Tho putte hym forth a p[e]lour bifore Pilat and seide,
'This Jesus of oure Jewes temple japed and despised,
To fordoon it on o day, and in thre dayes after
Edifie it eft newe - here he stant that seide it -
And yit maken it as muche in alle manere poyntes
Bothe as long and as large a lofte and by grounde.'
' Crucifige!' quod a cachepol, ' I warante hym a wicche!'
[...] Read more
poem by William Langland
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Cleanness
Clannesse who so kyndly cowþe comende
& rekken vp alle þe resounz þat ho by ri3t askez,
Fayre formez my3t he fynde in for[þ]ering his speche
& in þe contrare kark & combraunce huge.
For wonder wroth is þe Wy3þat wro3t alle þinges
Wyth þe freke þat in fylþe fol3es Hym after,
As renkez of relygioun þat reden & syngen
& aprochen to hys presens & prestez arn called;
Thay teen vnto his temmple & temen to hym seluen,
Reken with reuerence þay rychen His auter;
Þay hondel þer his aune body & vsen hit boþe.
If þay in clannes be clos þay cleche gret mede;
Bot if þay conterfete crafte & cortaysye wont,
As be honest vtwyth & inwith alle fylþez,
Þen ar þay synful hemself & sulped altogeder
Boþe God & His gere, & hym to greme cachen.
He is so clene in His courte, þe Kyng þat al weldez,
& honeste in His housholde & hagherlych serued
With angelez enourled in alle þat is clene,
Boþ withine & withouten in wedez ful bry3t;
Nif he nere scoymus & skyg & non scaþe louied,
Hit were a meruayl to much, hit mo3t not falle.
Kryst kydde hit Hymself in a carp onez,
Þeras He heuened a3t happez & hy3t hem her medez.
Me mynez on one amonge oþer, as Maþew recordez,
Þat þus clanness vnclosez a ful cler speche:
Þe haþel clene of his hert hapenez ful fayre,
For he schal loke on oure Lorde with a bone chere';
As so saytz, to þat sy3t seche schal he neuer
Þat any vnclannesse hatz on, auwhere abowte;
For He þat flemus vch fylþe fer fro His hert
May not byde þat burre þat hit His body ne3en.
Forþy hy3not to heuen in haterez totorne,
Ne in þe harlatez hod, & handez vnwaschen.
For what vrþly haþel þat hy3honour haldez
Wolde lyke if a ladde com lyþerly attyred,
When he were sette solempnely in a sete ryche,
Abof dukez on dece, with dayntys serued?
Þen þe harlot with haste helded to þe table,
With rent cokrez at þe kne & his clutte traschez,
& his tabarde totorne, & his totez oute,
Oþer ani on of alle þyse, he schulde be halden vtter,
With mony blame ful bygge, a boffet peraunter,
Hurled to þe halle dore & harde þeroute schowued,
& be forboden þat bor3e to bowe þider neuer,
On payne of enprysonment & puttyng in stokkez;
& þus schal he be schent for his schrowde feble,
Þa3neuer in talle ne in tuch he trespas more.
& if vnwelcum he were to a worþlych prynce,
3et hym is þe hy3e Kyng harder in her euen;
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Americas
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Pastime of Pleasure : The First Part.
Here begynneth the passe tyme of pleasure.
Ryyght myghty prynce / & redoubted souerayne
Saylynge forthe well / in the shyppe of grace
Ouer the wawes / of this lyfe vncertayne
Ryght towarde heuen / to haue dwellynge place
Grace dothe you guyde / in euery doubtfull cace
Your gouernaunce / dothe euermore eschewe
The synne of slouthe / enemy to vertewe
Grace stereth well / the grace of god is grete
Whiche you hathe brought / to your ryall se
And in your ryght / it hath you surely sette
Aboue vs all / to haue the soueraynte
Whose worthy power / and regall dygnyte
All our rancour / and our debate and ceace
Hath to vs brought / bothe welthe reste and peace
Frome whome dyscendeth / by the ryghtfull lyne
Noble pryuce Henry / to succede the crowne
That in his youthe / dothe so clerely shyne
In euery vertu / castynge the vyce adowne
He shall of fame / attayne the hye renowne
No doubte but grace / shall hym well enclose
Whiche by trewe ryght / sprange of the reed rose
Your noble grace / and excellent hyenes
For to accepte / I beseche ryght humbly
This lytell boke / opprest with rudenes
Without rethorycke / or colour crafty
Nothynge I am / experte in poetry
As the monke of Bury / floure of eloquence
Whiche was in tyme / of grete excellence
Of your predecessour / the .v. kynge henry
Vnto whose grace / he dyde present
Ryght famous bokes / of parfyte memory
Of his faynynge with termes eloquent
Whose fatall fyccyons / are yet permanent
Grounded on reason / with clowdy fygures
He cloked the trouthe / of all his scryptures
The lyght of trouthe / I lacke connynge to cloke
To drawe a curtayne / I dare not to presume
Nor hyde my mater / with a mysty smoke
My rudenes connynge / dothe so sore cōsume
Yet as I maye / I shall blowe out a fume
To hyde my mynde / vnderneth a fable
By conuert colour / well and probable
Besechynge your grace / to pardon myne ignoraunce
Whiche this fayned fable / to eschewe ydlenesse
Hane so compyled / now without doubtaunce
For to present / to your hye worthynesse
To folowe the trace / and all the parfytenesse
Of my mayster Lydgate / with due exercyse
[...] Read more
poem by Stephen Hawes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Power Age
Key:-a - anita r - ray
R: welcome to the power age
Money, money, money
R: the power age its the new generation
We are the ones with no limitations
We had the iron and the stone
Now we got a new age that we own
But its not about the power that makes you blind
Its all about the the power thats in your mind
This is the time to get the power
The power age, this is the hour
So let the _ take you on _
A: woow...
So release all the pain that stood there before
A: this is the power age
So get with it, oyeah, you belong
Theres only one force that makes you strong
A: oh.. oh...
This is the power age
A: were reaching for the final destination
To break out of the cage
Get in to the power age
With all of the brand new generation
Its time to turn the page
We living in the power age
A: break out of your cage; into the power age
R: the age of destruction, the age of hate
And the age of violence and the ages of late
Greed and gain thats all they care
Money, money, money, with enough to share
So get with it feel the vibration
The power age its just a sensation
You can feel it down in your soul
When you let the force take control
So by now you better know the deal
A: woow...
You gotta to get high to get real
A: this is the power age
Free you mind to disgage
Welcome to the power age
A: oh.. oh...
This is the power age
A: were reaching for the final destination
To break out of the cage
Get in to the power age
With all of the brand new generation
Its time to turn the page
We living in the power age
A: were reaching for the final destination
To break out of the cage
[...] Read more
song performed by 2 Unlimited
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Avowyng of Arthur
He that made us on the mulde,
And fair fourmet the folde,
Atte His will, as He wold,
The see and the sande,
Giffe hom joy that will here
Of dughti men and of dere,
Of haldurs that before us were,
That lifd in this londe.
One was Arther the Kinge,
Wythowtun any letting;
Wyth him was mony lordinge
Hardi of honde.
Wice and war ofte thay were,
Bold undur banere,
And wighte weppuns wold were,
And stifly wold stond.
This is no fantum ne no fabull;
Ye wote wele of the Rowun Tabull,
Of prest men and priveabull,
Was holdun in prise:
Chevetan of chivalry,
Kyndenesse and curtesy,
Hunting full warly,
As wayt men and wise.
To the forest thay fare
To hunte atte buk and atte bare,
To the herte and to the hare,
That bredus in the rise.
The King atte Carlele he lay;
The hunter cummys on a day -
Sayd, 'Sir, ther walkes in my way
A well grim gryse.
'He is a balefull bare -
Seche on segh I nevyr are:
He hase wroghte me mycull care
And hurte of my howundes,
Slayn hom downe slely
Wyth feghting full furcely.
Wasse ther none so hardi
Durste bide in his bandus.
On him spild I my spere
And mycull of my nothir gere.
Ther moue no dintus him dere,
Ne wurche him no wowundes.
He is masly made -
All offellus that he bade.
Ther is no bulle so brade
That in frith foundes.
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Ego Dominus Tuus
Hic. On the grey sand beside the shallow stream
Under your old wind-beaten tower, where still
A lamp burns on beside the open book
That Michael Robartes left, you walk in the moon,
And, though you have passed the best of life, still trace,
Enthralled by the unconquerable delusion,
Magical shapes.
Ille. By the help of an image
I call to my own opposite, summon all
That I have handled least, least looked upon.
Hic. And I would find myself and not an image.
Ille. That is our modern hope, and by its light
We have lit upon the gentle, sensitive mind
And lost the old nonchalance of the hand;
Whether we have chosen chisel, pen or brush,
We are but critics, or but half create,
Timid, entangled, empty and abashed,
Lacking the countenance of our friends.
Hic. And yet
The chief imagination of Christendom,
Dante Alighieri, so utterly found himself
That he has made that hollow face of his
More plain to the mind's eye than any face
But that of Christ.
Ille. And did he find himself
Or was the hunger that had made it hollow
A hunger for the apple on the bough
Most out of reach? and is that spectral image
The man that Lapo and that Guido knew?
I think he fashioned from his opposite
An image that might have been a stony face
Staring upon a Bedouin's horse-hair roof
From doored and windowed cliff, or half upturned
Among the coarse grass and the camel-dung.
He set his chisel to the hardest stone.
Being mocked by Guido for his lecherous life,
Derided and deriding, driven out
To climb that stair and eat that bitter bread,
He found the unpersuadable justice, he found
The most exalted lady loved by a man.
Hic. Yet surely there are men who have made their art
Out of no tragic war, lovers of life,
Impulsive men that look for happiness
And sing when t'hey have found it.
Ille. No, not sing,
For those that love the world serve it in action,
Grow rich, popular and full of influence,
And should they paint or write, still it is action:
The struggle of the fly in marmalade.
The rhetorician would deceive his neighbours,
[...] Read more
poem by William Butler Yeats
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Fyftene Loyes Of Maryage
Somer passed/and wynter well begone
The dayes shorte/the darke nyghtes longe
Haue taken season/and brynghtnes of the sonne
Is lytell sene/and small byrdes songe
Seldon is herde/in feldes or wodes ronge
All strength and ventue/of trees and herbes sote
Dyscendynge be/from croppe in to the rote
And euery creature by course of kynde
For socoure draweth to that countre and place
Where for a tyme/they may purchace and fynde
Conforte and rest/abydynge after grace
That clere Appolo with bryghtnes of his face
Wyll sende/whan lusty ver shall come to towne
And gyue the grounde/of grene a goodly gowne
And Flora goddesse bothe of whyte and grene
Her mantell large/ouer all the erthe shall sprede
Shewynge her selfe/apparayled lyke a quene
As well in feldes/wodes/as in mede
Hauynge so ryche a croune vpon her hede
The whiche of floures/shall be so fayre and bryght
That all the worlde/shall take therof a lyght
So now it is/of late I was desyred
Out of the trenche to drawe a lytell boke
Of .xv. Ioyes/of whiche though I were hyred
I can not tell/and yet I vndertoke
This entrepryse/with a full pyteous loke
Remembrynge well/the case that stode in
Lyuynge in hope/this wynter to begyn
Some Ioyes to fynde that be in maryage
For in my youth/yet neuer acquayntaunce
Had of them but now in myn olde aege
I trust my selfe/to forther and auaunce
If that in me/there lacke no suffysaunce
Whiche may dyspleasyr/clerely set a parte
I wante but all/that longeth to that arte
yet wyll I speke/though I may do no more
Fully purposynge/in all these Ioyes to trete
Accordynge to my purpose made to fore
All be it so/I can not well forgete
The payne/trauayle/besynes and hete
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Esperienza Religiosa
Qualcose di te sembra restare qui
In questa notte che scende fredda e sola
Unaria di estasi che mi consola
Mi avvolge come un abbraccio e minnamora
Ogni volta que ti vedo
Io riscopro linfinito
Trema il cielo
La notte vola via
E il silenzio diventa melodia
Ecome unesperienza religiosa
Sentire la tua mano che mi sfiora
Toccare la tua pelle
Tra mille e mille stelle
unesperienza religiosa
Ecome unesperienza religiosa
Sentirti in ogni istante, in ogni cosa
In questa notte buia
Gi sale un alleluia
unesperienza religiosa
Torna presto da me, non mi lasciare qui
Che in questa notte profonda sto soffrendo
Ho bisogno di vivere la tua allegria
Per non sentire il dolore che porto dentro
Nelle cose che mi hai dato
Io mi sono ritrovato
Il tempo pasa
Veloce nel mio cuore
Mi sento nuovo
In questo grande amore
Ecome unesperienza religiosa
Sentire la tua mano che mi sfiora
Toccare la tua pelle
Tra mille e mille stelle
unesperienza religiosa
Ecome unesperienza religiosa
Sentirti in ogni istante, in ogni cosa
In questa notte buia
Gi sale un alleluia
unesperienza religiosa
song performed by Enrique Iglesias
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Epigramma in Duos montes Amosclivum Et Bilboreum
Farfacio.
Cernis ut ingenti distinguant limite campum
Montis Amos clivi Bilboreique juga!
Ille stat indomitus turritis undisque saxis:
Cingit huic laetum Fraximus alta Caput.
Illi petra minax rigidis cervicibus horret:
Huic quatiunt viridis lenia colla jubas.
Fulcit Atlanteo Rupes ea vertice coelos:
Collis at hic humeros subjicit Herculeos.
Hic ceu carceribus visum sylvaque coercet:
Ille Oculos alter dum quasi meta trahit.
Ille Giganteum surgit ceu Pelion Ossa:
Hic agit ut Pindi culmine Nympha choros.
Erectus, praeceps, salebrosus, & arduus ille:
Aeclivis, placidus, mollis, amoenus hic est.
Dissimilis Domino coiit Natura sub uno;
Farfaciaque tremunt sub ditione pares.
Dumque triumphanti terras perlabitur Axe,
Praeteriens aequa stringit utrumque Rota.
Asper in adversos, facilis cedentibus idem;
Ut credas Montes extimulasse suos.
Hi sunt Alcidae Borealis nempe Columnae,
Quos medio scindit vallis opaca freto.
An potius longe sic prona cacumina nutant,
Parnassus cupiant esse Maria tuus.
poem by Andrew Marvell
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Forest Sanctuary - Part II.
I.
Bring me the sounding of the torrent-water,
With yet a nearer swell-fresh breeze, awake!
And river, darkening ne'er with hues of slaughter
Thy wave's pure silvery green,-and shining lake,
Spread far before my cabin, with thy zone
Of ancient woods, ye chainless things and lone!
Send voices through the forest aisles, and make
Glad music round me, that my soul may dare,
Cheer'd by such tones, to look back on a dungeon's air!
II.
Oh, Indian hunter of the desert's race!
That with the spear at times, or bended bow,
Dost cross my footsteps in thy fiery chase
Of the swift elk or blue hill's flying roe;
Thou that beside the red night-fire thou heapest,
Beneath the cedars and the star-light sleepest,
Thou know'st not, wanderer-never may'st thou know!-
Of the dark holds wherewith man cumbers earth,
To shut from human eyes the dancing seasons' mirth.
III.
There, fetter'd down from day, to think the while
How bright in Heaven the festal sun is glowing,
Making earth's loneliest places, with his smile,
Flush like the rose; and how the streams are flowing
With sudden sparkles through the shadowy grass,
And water-flowers, all trembling as they pass;
And how the rich dark summer-trees are bowing
With their full foliage;-this to know, and pine
Bound unto midnight's heart, seems a stern lot-'twas mine.
IV.
Wherefore was this?-Because my soul had drawn
Light from the book whose words are grav'd in light!
There, at its well-head, had I found the dawn,
And day, and noon of freedom:-but too bright
It shines on that which man to man hath given,
And call'd the truth-the very truth, from Heaven!
And therefore seeks he, in his brother's sight,
To cast the mote; and therefore strives to bind
With his strong chains to earth, what is not earth's-the mind!
V.
It is a weary and a bitter task
Back from the lip the burning word to keep,
And to shut out Heaven's air with falsehood's mask,
And in the dark urn of the soul to heap
Indignant feelings-making even of thought
[...] Read more
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Surreal Ballard Of Tahrir Square
script implausible was so bad surreal
a badly written distorted dream scene
by hack writer with his train off de track
a director still coupled to an antique
loose caboose directing a crummy
crew straight out of sad clown wagon
hear bark a doghouse glory wagon
nationalist saviour script monkey
wagon attack techniques yes these
lapdogs trained as running dogs were
about to be let loose from monkey
wagon many bused in especially for
lackey protest busting feature occasion
moral railroaded false charge imagery
“don’t fall asleep on trains coz trains run
over sleepers” view protesters in lime
light were about to be overwhelmed
ruthlessly crushed steamrolled to pave
one way for Mubarak to oh so smoothly
retain President power so run mad house
script bizarre surging footage shot real?
roll cameras action paid men came with
baseball bats pieces of broken window
frames machetes one homemade spear?
form a line a small group plainclothes
policemen block one broad boulevard
leading into Tahrir Square now symbolic
epicentre
of peaceful Egyptian
revolution
poor police publicly shamed had been
driven from streets so used to controlling
last Friday now had come to hero reclaim
what? A ruthless reputation, proud ego,
status regarded as rightfully lawfully
theirs? Police gathered on Qasr el-Aini
prepared themselves for confrontation
with brave protesters who had humiliated
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Dance A Multi-Coloured Dance Of Rainbow
Words can fail like magnets not sticking to the fridge
and we all complain when the rent is due again.
Pay your bills and meet the obligations of
the world, never mind attending to the
payment of your soul.
The new voice is speaking, the new religion
has been announced. We are to celebrate
everything and tradition we are to renounce.
Dance a multi-coloured dance of rainbow
prisms and inter-faith delusions.
We are to ignore the truth of the Gospel
for too many find that it offends. We must
not have complaining and so we must merge
into one blend. Let the fires burn so
brightly as we burn away the words
we do not like. Dance a multi-coloured
dance of rainbow prisms and
inter-faith delusions.
Men should not sleep with women, for
that is not the way the new voices want
it to be. Instead they should seek male
partners and live in illusions of
conformity. We must not call a spade
a spade for in doing so we ignore
the new mindset.
Dance a multi-coloured dance of rainbow
prisms and inter-faith delusions.
No need to wave flags for we must
not cause nationalism to exist. Only
one nation is right and that is the
propaganda we must believe. So we
watch our televsions and rejoice
in the latest American war.
Dance a multi-coloured dance of rainbow
prisms and inter-faith delusions.
The parade has begun, and the marchers
have lined up like soliders in a drill.
The banners are ready ot wave, the
sound of music will soon flood the
streets. We will march for equality
and conform ourselves to a plastic
sheeted state of being. Dance a
multi-coloured dance of rainbow
prisms and inter-faith delusions.
[...] Read more
poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
For The Victory At Agincourt
Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria!
Owre kynge went forth to Normandy,
With grace and myzt of chivalry;
The God for him wrouzt marvelously,
Wherefore Englonde may calle, and cry
Deo gratias:
Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria.
He sette a sege, the sothe for to say,
To Harflue toune with ryal aray;
That toune he wan and made a fray,
That Fraunce shall rywe tyl domes day.
Deo gratias:
Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria.
Then went owre kynge with alle his oste
Thorowe Fraunce for all the Frenshe boste;
He spared 'for' drede of leste ne most,
Tyl he come to Agincourt coste.
Deo gratias:
Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria.
Than for sothe that knyzt comely
In Agincourt feld he fauzt manly,
Thorow grace of God most myzty
He had both the felde and the victory:
Deo gratias:
Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria.
Ther dukys and erlys, lorde and barone,
Were take and slayne and that wel sone,
And some were ledde in to Lundone
With joye and merthe and grete renone.
Deo gratias:
Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria.
Now gracious God he save owre kynge,
His peple and all his wel wyllynge,
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Fire & Earth
Cave men! [You better hush!] Cave women! [Hush!] And the... [Hush!]
Troglodytes! [Gun shot.]
[Somebody's calling my name....]
[Brother J]
Ah, yeah! Ah, come on, come on, come on!
[Professor X] To the East, my brother, to the East!
[Brother J] Uh, to the East, my brother, to the East! Come on!
[X] To the East, my brother, to the East!
[J] To the East, my brother, to the East, yeah!
[X] To the East, my brother, to the East!
[J] To the East, my brother, to the East, my brother, to the East, my
brother, to the East, my brother, to the East, my brother, to the East!
[Professor X]
Yes! I'm that kind of nigga
The one you fear, be scared you can't figger
The one that has the finger on the trigger, boom!
In the cut of zoom
In the darkness, the halo, the moon!
Stepping ta' ya' real soon
Ah! Check the blackness!
Me before those enter the lightness!
Masturbating!
Masquerading!
And you call your self righteous?
Follow me!
A peripheral, missionary, and ark commit-ness
Having intercourse with the nation of darkness!
Books with worms!
Jherri suited with last names like perms!
niggas, get your hands of your cracks, come to terms with yourself
If you don't get any bigger
Pink Caddy driving, black boot stomping
Yes! I'm that kind of nigga
Brother J, whatcha' say?
Brother J, Brother J, whatcha' say?
Brother J, whatcha' say? Brother J, whatcha' say?
[Brother J]
Yeah!
I'm just a pro-Black nigga, and I'm doing this
And yet you watch me, clock me, to see if I continue this
In the ways of the Caddy I survive like a pimp
No jherri curls, waves, perms, or crimps
The ever-nappy crew setting the mood
I raise my fuel for my firm attitude
Walking through the streets with my war cry spear
Certain folks know it means doom when they hear
My firm, black boots with no spurs attached
Now let me take a second, cause I might detach
My black boots if you confuse
I lose my peoples in the words you choose
[...] Read more
song performed by X-Clan
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!