Latest quotes | Random quotes | Vote! | Latest comments | Add quote

Grace At Evening

For all the beauties of the day,
The innocence of childhood’s play,
For health and strength and laughter sweet,
Dear Lord, our thanks we now repeat.

For this our daily gift of food
We offer now our gratitude,
For all the blessings we have known
Our debt of gratefulness we own.

Here at the table now we pray,
Keep us together down the way;
May this, our family circle, be
Held fast by love and unity.

Grant, when the shades of night shall fall,
Sweet be the dreams of one and all;
And when another day shall break
Unto Thy service may we wake.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Related quotes

Sonnet: The Universe Is One

The land is one in which we live, work, sleep;
The sea is one which surrounds most of land;
The thirst is one and struggles same, we reap;
The race is one and labor, we by hand.

The air is one that all of us must breathe;
The Sun is one which we require for heat;
The wealth is one and we should not have greed;
The war is one and hungrily, we eat.

The Space is one, no matter how we keep;
The life is one; we ought to live our best;
The Sky is one, under which we all sleep;
The death is one that brings us to His Test.

The birth is one for all creatures on earth;
The God is one who gives and takes our breath.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Sonnet: Our Family-Carriage to Heaven

God drives our family-carriage with four wheels-
Love, harmony, forbearance, piety;
His whip of grace goads parent horses’ heels;
Their faith in Jesus sees eternity.

All children act as passengers at first;
Some take their turn as horses very soon;
They run with crosses on footsteps of Christ;
The Bible’s words are Manna-like food- boon.

God-Driver guides the carriage in His lanes-
Narrow and straight, and guarded by angels,
As light of heaven, Holy Spirit rains;
God’s mercy-mantle has Lords safety-bells!

The carriage moves on swiftly, by prayers;
Of siblings, saints, prophets and soothsayers!

Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-21-2008

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

The Life of One

The life of one is good
The life of one is bad
The life of one is glad
The life of one is sad
The life of one smiles
The life of one cries
The life of one see's the brightness of the sun
The life of one see's the dust rolling of there shoes
The life of one see's the beutifull of the night sky
The life of one see's the horror of darkness in the night
The life of one see's the beutifull in people
The life of one see's the ugly in people
The life of one is happy
The life of one is lost
The life of one is in attention
The life of one doesnt give a shit
The life of one cares for others
The life of one acts like he/she dont know you
The life of one see's the birds singing threw out the day
The life of one see's the shallows of the underworld
The life of one see's the wolrds happenings
The life of one see's the nothing at all
The life of one see's the person in you
The life of one see's the flow of nothing
The life is just life

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

A Love For All Seasons

There's no truth in the rumour
That's all I want to say
There's no room for manoevre
Make sure that it stays
A love for all seasons
October was a drag
Damn it all
You and I were fools
Overcast and sad
Winter blues
Allowing us to cool
When it's grey I know all I want to do
Resort to make-believe
There's no truth in the rumour
That's all I want to say
There's no room for manoevre
Make sure that it stays
A love for all seasons
January comes
Steely blue
Nothing seems to rhyme
With all the noise of spring
Passion wakes
Cos' we hear summertime
When it's grey I know all I want to do
Resort to make-believe
There's no truth in the rumour
That's all I want to say
There's no room for manoevre
so Make sure that it stays
A love for all seasons...
October comes around
As it does
But this time we're prepared
You and I can go
To love land
There's a sunset to be shared
When it's grey I know all I want to do
Resort to make-believe...
There's no truth in the rumour
That's all I want to say
There's no room for manoevre
So Make sure that it stays
There's no truth in the rumour
That's all I want to say
There's no room for manoevre
So Make sure that it stays
A love for all seasons
yeah, a love for all seasons
I said it
January, February, March April,
May, June July,
I love you
August, September,October, November,
I love you, yes i will..
oh cheers
yeah octuber was a fire
and in to 9:00 to 3:00 I love you
both

song performed by Right Said FredReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Simple Observation #72 - Our life in the body is for all but a......

Our life in the body is for all but a temporary phase
by which we have to go through an incredible maze.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

The Poem I Waited For All Day

THE POEM I WAITED FOR ALL DAY
THE POEM I WAITED FOR ALL DAY

The Poem I waited for all day
Came only in the evening
Instead of green and gold
Its grey was ready for black.
Life is that way
We wait and wait
For the sudden dawn of beauty
And somewhere else preparing
In another way
The sudden blindness comes.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Our Family....For Us To Flaunt

I sit here now, in a smaller place, a smaller cell-
It is for me, my own representation of Hell!
Dante's Eternal Abyss, as called by some-
From the lesser of two other evils I did come!

Gaze now do I at your Christmas present-
Thoughts are racing-when and where may it be sent! ?
One day you shall realize that your actions failed
Both you and ours- no one could ever believe your tales!

Be gone damn scurge- be the way of the geist!
Not will I make allowance to my heart for your heist!
If what you want is a form of fears reprisal-
Do as I have my dear- fashion love's recital!

By and by dear, your present, should you want
Is our family, each on a heart- for us to flaunt!

Maurice Harris,29 Decemebr 2007

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

A Peom For K. (The Banker With All The Conflicting Interests)

i shall now write
a poem for my happiest day,

it is all about an old, scheming and fraudulent
woman
stacking all her money and the money of the other
people

inside her room
inside her house and inside
her bigger storehouses

she says
these are all for her children

and grandchildren and the children
of all her grandchildren and

all the coming children of more
grandchildren & great great grandchildren

what is mad about this is
that she is taking the money due

to other people who are hungry and innocent
and gullible

but she is a very
wise woman and she gets what she wants
she gets what she all wants
practically everything that her hands can
hold her eyes can see

perhaps

forgetting that soon she will be
made to pay for the price of her greed

and avarice and dirty schemes and
foul techniques and it will be for all

her children and grandchildren and the children
of all her grandchildren and

all the coming children of more
grandchildren all the coming children of more
great grandchildren &
great great grandchildren

...and then justice shall reign

but when it comes
i shall not see this event anymore
but i will be happy

>>>ii

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

For All The Times You Were There For Me

For all the days and times you wOuere forme.
Since the day I was born.I never really say it.
But I appreciate everything you did for me.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

The Poem I Waited For All My Life

THE POEM I WAITED FOR/ ALL MY LIFE

The poem I waited for
All my life,
Came to me in old age
And I write it now-
As if Joy and Sadness
Were what
I was always
Meant to be.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

The Dreams Mean Nothing Now

THE DREAMS MEAN NOTHING NOW

The dreams mean nothing now
We live from day to day
The pains are what mean now
And how to manage them.

Why has it come to this?
Why is this the human fate?
To be so much less in old age
Than we were in our youth?

Dream dream dream dream
Dream if you can
Run with all your might faster
Be who you are to the end-
When the evil days come
There will be nothing to do.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Dark Is The Night For All

(pal waaktaar)
Its time we said goodbye
Time now to decide
O dont you feel so small
Dark is the night for all
Its time we moved out west
This time will be the best
And when the evenings fall
Dark is the night for all
Its time...yeah, to break free
Its time to pull away
For you and for me
Its time...yeah, to break free
We need to celebrate the mystery
Its time we said goodbye
Time for you and i
O dont you feel so small
Dark is the night for all

song performed by A-HaReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

No One Can Write A Poem For All The Pain Of The World

NO ONE CAN WRITE A POEM FOR ALL THE PAIN OF THE WORLD

No one can write a poem for all the pain of the world-
No one can write a poem that can truly heal anothers suffering-
A poem may help in a small way sometimes,
It may bring a bit of light,
But it rarely can cure-
So many I know have sufferings,
And so many need help.

A poem is a prayer to God
For help for those suffering-
May more kindness come to the world
And your and our pain
Be less.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

For All The Words Dished Up - Two For Emily Dickinson

1

For all the words dished up,
A plate without meat. Maybe, bone.
No love fattened you,
never used your flesh.
Green as grass you stayed.
Dauntless, no narrow fellow passed.

2

This talk of death, dear Emily,
I know it intimately - plain talk
describes it best, as you know,
this Mystery grotesque -
concreteness like tombs hard in
the eye or that slant of light
obscured by a fly.

OK. It's done now. And ever will be,
for all the words in green
afternoons cannot evade mortality -
and soul no more than that butterfly be,
I laugh to call it Eternity that waits
beneath this plank, that other room
where a coach kindly stopped,
dropped you, yellow wing, still and
dark, now daunted and alone.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

The Man For All Reasons

The texan cowboy rides his horse
Gideeyuppp! Heeeeeyaaaahhhhhhhh!
Spanking hard the lean-meat butt
He pulls the mane, he heaves and puffs


He hopes to win this course's run
His bum wont sore with a saddle on
The cowboy's wish is granted now
To ride his horse in the fastest race...


While he whips and pats his horse
The rider at its worse...
When he asks for an intercourse
I imagine how it sores...


Hail! the nine-incher for all reasons...
He loves to ride in all four seasons
On haystack grass, as he thrusts and grunts
He rides his cowgirl like a raging bull


Alas! the monster cowboy won his race
Like a shooting comet in an outer space
His fountain of youth to a rainforest moist
To the seventh mountain...to the ride of the decade


Still soaking wet from the fusion of sweat
A circus of sperms, communing with the eggs
In squirting might, the boastful stiffened shaft
Is now a limp noodle with a wrinkled jingle bells

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

For All The Children

One little sleigh bell rings
One little childs voice sings
Ocean to ocean theres an emotion
That the season brings
Flowing around the world
To every boy and girl
Now is the season filled with joy and love
Boy on the city street
Girl on the desert sand
Sister and brother loving each other
All across the land
This is the time of year
Differences disappear
Spreading goodwill and joy just like the dove
And Im singing this song
For all the children
To wish for peace on earth and love
The whole year through
cause the season belongs
To all the children of the world
Singin this christmas song
Reach out and pass it on
Sing it to all the children of the world
Let all the sleigh bells ring
Hear all the children sing
Voices arising all harmonizing
Its a joyful thing
Watching the world grow small
Touching them one and all
This is the season filled with joy and love
And Im singing this song
For all the children
To wish for peace on earth and love
The whole year through
cause the season belongs
To all the children of the world
Singin this christmas song
Reach out and pass it on
Sing it to all the children of the world
Written by d. sebesky & g. nissenson

song performed by Vanessa WilliamsReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

For all the Land to See: A Song of the Tools

THE CROSS-CUT and the crowbar cross, and hang them on the wall,
And make a greenhide rack to fit the wedges and the maul,
The “done” long-handled shovel and the thong-bound axe that fell,
The crowbar, pick-axe and the “throw”—the axe that morticed well.
The old patched tent and “fly”, bag bunk and pillow of sugee,
The frying-pan and billy-can, for all the land to see.

The cross-cut, after pounds of files, is narrowed down and thin,
With here and there a tooth cut out as th’ curve straightened in,
The axe close to the iron ground, the shovel to the shaft,
The handle from the first worn smooth with sweat and dust and graft.
The maul and wedges burred and split, spell bravest history—
These were the arms our fathers bore, for none but they to see.

Then look you round on all that is, on cities proud and fair,
And look you westward from the range—towns, farms and homesteads there.
Then hurry to a place you know lest you should be too late,
And clear the scrub some little space—small place, say—three-by eight.
A blackened post stump stands where four rough panels used to be
And there take off your panama where none but God might see.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

For all that you do

So if you ask me what it is I do with my days
I will tell you I go through them in such a haze
That I'm really not sure what it is I achieve
But I do have a poem or two up my sleeve! .... Suzanne

I appreciate for all that you do
You are not only woman but in essence a factor very much true
A devoted mother and wife
Otherwise life is like facing an edge of knife

Think of those poor ladies!
They have no time to ready
Their children for going to school
As they have no such facilities to fool

To toil hard in hot sun is entirely different
You can look happiness and that is apparent
I can look in their eyes no future but yes long hope
Even though it is hardest of hard job to walk on rope

Child is tied in bed sheet between trunks of trees
Air flows gently to provide him access totally free
See the happiness on face of woman while she works
Such is the day when she dreams about it and starts

I would love to salute all those women
Who are called heaven valley for all those men?
Now occupying highest position in world
Yet dream about reaching to her kind fold

Oh! Women of all kind you deserve the best
As we have found shelter to rest
You take all our responsibilities
That is rarest of rare to augment our capabilities

We shall be all powerless
On the earth to face
If anything turns unfavorable
You are their to look after and face the trouble

I shall look towards sky and raise my head
In recognition of your gratitude and read
All your sacrifice and lead the way carefree
As I am the only creature so thankful to the mighty tree

You deserve kudos for all you do
Not as wife or mother to take us through
But as an special identity to sail us
With so much of confidence and trust

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Liberty and Justice For All

On this day, September 11,2012, I sit here in my soul and reflect about my fellow countrymen and countrywomen who reflect back to me their souls, their courage, their resolve and strength. As an American, the spirit of America is born in me, as I am born in the spirit of America. The will of not just myself, but the will of the people, of us all, moves in me this day.
Our lives, our country, changed drastically on September 11,2001, but our character, our principles of freedom, and the constitution of our nation and our souls did not change but persevered and remained in the forefront of our breasts as we braved the unknown world ahead of us. In God's heaven, or the heaven of our hearts, the lives we lost, now venerate us as we mourn their loss. There is no memorial as grand, no memorial as beautiful, than the memorial we hold in our hearts of the stories of courage, valor, and bravery exhibited on that day. A peaceful sorrow ascends from the mass graves of death, from the Pentagon, from United Airlines Flight 93, and the World Trade Center; this sorrow, this peace from the dead souls mouth whispers to me in vibrant silence,

'We shall be remembered, we shall live forever. In your hearts, our freedom lives.'

What has always disconcerted me is what should be impossible, is possible, and what should be possible, is impossible. A tragedy, an act of violent malice, like Sept.11, should never be possible in life. Indignation and hatred should never burn so immensely as to kill the soul that kills others; but it happened and it still happening.
Now let's work to make the impossible come true. Let's not question ourselves but move with more force, more swiftly to the American Dream; the equality of man and woman, the opportunity for all to prosper, the toleration of all religion, the respect for the rights of the individual, the freedom of thought and the freedom to eat its fruits, the ability to compromise, Justice! America we must become the ideal for the world to follow, we must beat our blood in freedom everywhere we go, we must live in unity, and with resolve stand our ground! This is our peace; this is what the dead souls of 9/11 whisper.... Liberty and Justice for all!

To the Servicemembers who fought, lived and died for our freedoms….

Bless the courageous souls who fought valiantly
And with honor and dignity acted gallantly
In our hearts, your hearts march brave
With solemn virtue, and our minds grave
We cry 'look at all the lives thy save! '
March On!

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share
Patrick White

For All The Seers And Seekers Out There

For all the seers and seekers out there,
all you bright seeds on a blind wind
looking for a vision of life you can root in
and express yourselves like willows in the moonlight
to the night creek nearby that listens
when you cry out in mystical bliss
at the surprise of waterlilies gathered at your feet
to catch a taste of the same essence that makes you weep,
deep inside, inside, inside, look there for paradise,
where the stars are dazzled by your eyes
that don't fade away in the blazing like Venus at dusk.

Looking for the spirit with the spirit
like a breathless wind looking for the wind
to give it mouth to mouth resuscitation
is a snake with its tail in its mouth
enchained to its own liberation.
Is a candle in the sun living on borrowed light
when it's already well-provisioned with its own shining
for the long nights in the heart
of an unknown radiance within?
Long nights on the high slopes
of the world mountain you're sitting on alone
like a pauper with kingly second thoughts
about abdicating the ancestral throne of your ego.

For you who are not stuck
like a false idol the size of your thumb
through a three and a half pound brain of starmud.

For you who are not voidbound by your freedom,
or cower in the shadows of your solitude
afraid to read the messages that flower under your doorsill
from anonymous admirers passing in the hall.

For those of you who learned to read and write
in an alphabet of loveletters waiting for a reply
that could answer them all like a return address on the silence.

For you who have taken the splinters of a shattered mirror
out of your eye and replaced them with stars
that have gone on giving light long after
the chandeliers of light-winged sorrows
have stopped waltzing in three four time with their
club-footed candles for the night.

Follow this goat bell up the high dangerous trails
where even overcoming your fear of heights
isn't enough courage to guarantee your footing
and I'll show you the jewelled hoofs of the wild horses
kicking up the dust of stars on the open plains
of an inconceivable spiritual vastness where wishes are horses
and beggars do ride and you can hear the jingling
of constellations like the wind-chimes of Spanish spurs
that get under your skin where the spiritual junkies shoot up
like selflessly motivated thorns of starlight
potent enough to keep them high for the rest of the lives
on the antidote they derive like the milk of human kindness
even from the toxic serums of the most dangerous mystical snakes
that have ever poled danced like a winged caduceus
around the axis of the most habitable planet you've ever been inclined to.

Whether you're a blissed-out gardenia of God
or just another double agent doing espionage for the Devil
to see when the next whirlwind of revelation
is going to sweep you up like a chimney spark
into a maelstrom of cosmic events against your will,
look at how the radiance shining out
from the clear void of an unknown light source deep within you
illuminates heaven like the moon in your window
as surely and truly as it does the prophetic skulls of hell.

And this is the point I've been missing
and trying to make simultaneously throughout this poem
like a tattoo starred on my forehead
that leads me like a lantern into deeper and darker spaces
than any abandoned shrine in a sacred wood
I've ever existed in before like a swallow
among the quake-proof columns of the trees.

We're all three-winged songbirds under the leaf-cluttered eaves
of the temples we brought with us like spiritual refugees
overstepping the bounds and borders of ourselves
like prodigal sons and daughters on the thresholds of exile.

And each of us weaves, after our own fashion,
on a loom of lunar wavelengths of shadows and light,
a crown of thorns we leave with wings
like the mangers of the earthbound killdeer and English skylarks
after we've cracked the koans
of the cosmic eggs we were born from.

We fly away home like ladybirds and dragonflies
whose house is on fire and kids are alone
to have it burned into us like a prison tattoo
that enlightenment is just as white
on the dark side, as it is black on the light.

And though you were to look like billions of fireflies
for millions of lightyears, you'll never find enlightenment
up ahead of you because it will never be found
anywhere other than behind and beside you
where it's always been from the beginningless beginning
like a shadow that's been following you
on the blind side of your third eye that set out
the moment it first opened up to you like a flower to the stars
to look for the other two like a shepherd
looking for lost goats on the altars
of the unblooded sacrificial mountains of the moon.

You just have to look at the stars
and feel them staring back at you on the inside
with the same inconceivable wonder at why and what you are
as you return the light that was given to you back to them
realizing every insight into the nature of life,
every word, every star, every bird, firefly, every
lighthouse and clocktower of the moon
is a sign of mutual greeting that can't be ignored.

For those of you who cry for the earth that is moved
by the same agony you are, as if you were born
to be its tears, its wounds, its scars,
to suffer like flowers for the beauty you aspire to.

For those of you whose seeing
will become the substance of the world tomorrow
though you should lose your eyes for it today
like apple-bloom, for the sake of the root of the light within.

For those of you who are always seeking
the things that belong to all of us, the dreams
the visions, the insights, the perfect expression
of what we have to say to the silence
that's always listening to us
talking to ourselves like a sleepwalking stream
or a wild grapevine putting out tendrils
like Korans of Kufic script and Books of harvest Kells.

May your labour come to love you like a bad habit
that's grown fond of you over the years
because you made an art of your life
that brought the merciless desert to tears
to see how even a delusion or a mirage
with a big enough heart and a taste for compassion
that gives it an eye for how sublime beauty really is
as deep as the watershed at the bottom of a wishing well
it turned into the moment it cried on behalf
of everyone's efforts to make themselves
in all the glory of their schemes, dreams and delusions
streaming out behind them in victory parades
put on by their own minds
like the emperor's non-existent clothes
for knowing how to turn a defeat into a celebration,
come true to life. The seeking life. The seeing life.

The just life like dry oak on a good fire.
The life of thought that eventually forgets
what there is to think about. The wasted life
whose gifts were mistaken for flaws in its character,
The anonymous life of a spiritual blood donor
that sent a single red rose to a dead child
and restored her back to life. Life returning to life
like crocuses and killer whales through the ice,
seeking itself out in every corner of our lives,
and under the stones of our own starmud minds
lodged in the earth like meteorites
that once flashed across the sky like insight
from an unknown radiant i
in the eye sockets of prophetic skulls
as if strange new life forms were going on in there
it knew nothing about and was dying to see.
And who knows? Maybe even something
unspeakably precious it thought was lost for good.

And most especially a life that feels life
has shapeshifted it into the dupe of its own ideals,
that all its disguises and deathmasks were removed
like painful tattoos only to reveal a rodeo clown
dressed in a barrel with a red poppy for a cape in its hat
to draw the bull away from the rider that's down.

To feel like a clown in all your actions
to judge by the crowd's reactions,
but to put your life on the line anyway
as a funny kind of sacrifice that saves the hero
you risked as much to rescue, as he did
to put you in harm's way when he faltered.

And you embodied the human condition with compassion,
running away as a way of coming to the rescue,
without realizing, as you laughed at yourself,
it doesn't get anymore divine than that.
Trying to get a smile out of the bull
you're running before on someone else's behalf
in a funny hat with an artificial flower
is a sublime act of devotion
and the truest form of worship
from the human divinity in each of us to another.

Because getting up after life's been struck to its knees,
is how everything grows, even when its roots
are watered by delusions and its butt gets kicked up
into the grandstands of the amused demons and angels,
that funny little dejected flower in a rodeo clown's hat
that steals the show like the Buddha's purse
to buy the Buddha a horse to get back up on,
regardless of what you, the bull, the Buddha,
his purse, the horse or the thrown rider feel,
still blossoms from the heart it's rooted in for real.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share
 

Search


Recent searches | Top searches