Knees Trembling
The extremist will exaggerate,
The stepping away from a comfort zone.
Only to seek validation...
From anyone who had not observed,
Knees trembling as the tip toeing began.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Steppin In A Slide Zone
I took a ride in a limousine
I took a road Id never been
I met a stranger by the way
His coat was torn but his eyes were clear
Standing in a slide zone
I could be steppin in a slide zone
He told me where a river flows
He showed me how the apple grows
He told me of a magic stream
His face was worn but his eyes were clear
Standing in a slide zone
I could be steppin in a slide zone
Standing in a slide zone
I could be steppin through a time zone
He went to find a shooting star
Around the bend thats where they are
I went along just for the ride
Suddenly I began to glide
Standing in a slide zone
I could be steppin through a time zone
The air raced by there was no sound
We drifted high above the ground
And then said you know this place
And then a smile lit up his face
Standing in a slide zone
I could be steppin in a slide zone
Standing in a slide zone
I could be steppin through a time zone
I turned my head and looked below
And there was something there I know
Suddenly I began to fall
I looked around and tried to call
Standing in a slide zone
He had me steppin in a time zone
Standing in a slide zone
Falling through a time zone
Help me please I thought I said
Then something happened in my head
Music came from all around
And I knew what I had found
Standing in a slide zone
Falling through a time zone
Steppin in a slide zone
He had me falling through a time zone
song performed by Moody Blues
Added by Lucian Velea
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Im Stepping Out
Woke up this morning blues around my head
No need to ask the reason why
Went to the kitchen and lit a cigarette
Blew my worries to the sky
Im stepping out
Im stepping out
Im stepping out
Im stepping out
If it dont feel right you dont have to do it
Just leave a message on the phone and tell them to screw it
After all is said and done you cant go pleasin everyone
So screw it...
Im stepping out
Im stepping out
Im stepping out baby
Im stepping out
Babys sleeping the cats have all been blessed
Aint nothing doing on tv (summer repeats)
Put on my space suit I got to look my best
Im going out to do the city
Im stepping out
Im stepping out
Im stepping out babe
Im stepping out (boogie)
Im stepping out (hold it down)
Im stepping out
Im stepping out
Gotta gotta gotta gotta get out
Im stepping out babe
Just awhile
Aint been out for days...
song performed by Lennon John
Added by Lucian Velea
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Im Stepping Out
A one, a two, a one, two, three, four!
This here is the story about a househusband who, you know,
Just want to get out of the house, has been looking at you,
You, know, the kids, days and days, hes been watching the
Kitchen and screwing around or whatever it has to be till
Hes gone crazy!
Woke up this morning, blues around my head.
No need to ask the reason why.
Went to the kitchen and lit a cigarette,
Blew my worries to the sky.
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out, yeh!
If it dont feel right, you dont have to do it.
Just leave a message on the phone and tell them to screw it.
And after all is said and done,
You cant go pleasin evryone so screw it.
Uh-uh-uh,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out, baby,
Im stepping out.
Babys sleeping, the cats have all been blessed,
Aint nothing doing on tv. (some old repeat!)
Put on my spacesuit, I got to look my best,
Im going out to do the city.
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out, babe,
Im stepping out.
Boogie!
One more!
Im stepping out, hold it down,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out,
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta get out!
Im stepping out, babe, just for a while.
Aint been out for days! got to do it tonight!
Give me a break! give me a break! gotta get out!
Gotta get out!
Just for a while, just for the night.
Ill be in before one, or two, or three.
Goodbye.
song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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Im Stepping Out
A one, a two, a one, two, three, four!
This here is the story about a househusband who, you know,
Just want to get out of the house, has been looking at you,
You, know, the kids, days and days, hes been watching the
Kitchen and screwing around or whatever it has to be till
Hes gone crazy!
Woke up this morning, blues around my head.
No need to ask the reason why.
Went to the kitchen and lit a cigarette,
Blew my worries to the sky.
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out, yeh!
If it dont feel right, you dont have to do it.
Just leave a message on the phone and tell them to screw it.
And after all is said and done,
You cant go pleasin evryone so screw it.
Uh-uh-uh,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out, baby,
Im stepping out.
Babys sleeping, the cats have all been blessed,
Aint nothing doing on tv. (some old repeat!)
Put on my spacesuit, I got to look my best,
Im going out to do the city.
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out, babe,
Im stepping out.
Boogie!
One more!
Im stepping out, hold it down,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out,
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta get out!
Im stepping out, babe, just for a while.
Aint been out for days! got to do it tonight!
Give me a break! give me a break! gotta get out!
Gotta get out!
Just for a while, just for the night.
Ill be in before one, or two, or three.
Goodbye.
song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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Just Stuck In A Warp, Zone
Stuck in a warp,
Zone.
And united with those delighted.
To never be made convinced,
Common sense is beneficial.
Just stuck in a warp,
Zone.
And united with those delighted.
To...
Never be made convinced,
Common sense is beneficial.
Stuck in a warp,
Zone.
So far out they're looking down at stars.
Stuck in a warp,
Zone.
Not one of them has heard of Jupiter OR Mars.
Stuck in a warp,
Zone.
Sniffin', snortin', totin', weezin'.
Stuck in a warp,
Zone.
Hackin', coughin', chokin', sneezin'.
Stuck in a warp,
Zone.
And united with those delighted.
To never be made convinced,
Common sense is beneficial.
Sniffin', snortin', totin', weezin'.
Stuck in a warp,
Zone.
Hackin', coughin', chokin', sneezin'.
Stuck in a warp,
Zone.
Noddin', dozin', sleepin' deepened.
Stuck in a warp,
Zone.
Noddin', dozin', sleepin' deepened.
Stuck in a warp,
Zone.
Noddin', dozin', sleepin' deepened.
Stuck in a warp,
Zone.
And united with those delighted.
To...
Never be made convinced,
Common sense is beneficial
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stepping Stones
Baby youve been up, broken down
Every man knows your name in this whole damn town
In every bar they know your drink, what should I think
I turned around to look and you gave some dude a wink
I thought Id be happy with a woman like you,
But you walked on my pride and my manhood too
I dont know too much but one thing I know
A man stuck on you is like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
What you forgot to mention, what was your real intention
Did you want a man to love, or someone to prop and carry you up
To a higher status, but the matter of fact is, your detachment
Will bring you further down and now youre all used up
Dont bother coming round
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Well, I remember back to waht you put me thru
I keep thinking to myself
Whats wrong with you
Aint it enough to have a man for a lover and a friend
Tear him up and leave him when the moneys spent
Well, youre just like delilah sittin in her den
You take the strongest man and break em down again
But I have gained some knowledge
Go on pack your things and move back to college
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
song performed by G. Love & Special Sauce
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 2
ALL were attentive to the godlike man,
When from his lofty couch he thus began:
“Great queen, what you command me to relate
Renews the sad remembrance of our fate:
An empire from its old foundations rent, 5
And ev’ry woe the Trojans underwent;
A peopled city made a desart place;
All that I saw, and part of which I was:
Not ev’n the hardest of our foes could hear,
Nor stern Ulysses tell without a tear. 10
And now the latter watch of wasting night,
And setting stars, to kindly rest invite;
But, since you take such int’rest in our woe,
And Troy’s disastrous end desire to know,
I will restrain my tears, and briefly tell 15
What in our last and fatal night befell.
“By destiny compell’d, and in despair,
The Greeks grew weary of the tedious war,
And by Minerva’s aid a fabric rear’d,
Which like a steed of monstrous height appear’d: 20
The sides were plank’d with pine; they feign’d it made
For their return, and this the vow they paid.
Thus they pretend, but in the hollow side
Selected numbers of their soldiers hide:
With inward arms the dire machine they load, 25
And iron bowels stuff the dark abode.
In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an isle
(While Fortune did on Priam’s empire smile)
Renown’d for wealth; but, since, a faithless bay,
Where ships expos’d to wind and weather lay. 30
There was their fleet conceal’d. We thought, for Greece
Their sails were hoisted, and our fears release.
The Trojans, coop’d within their walls so long,
Unbar their gates, and issue in a throng,
Like swarming bees, and with delight survey 35
The camp deserted, where the Grecians lay:
The quarters of the sev’ral chiefs they show’d;
Here Phœnix, here Achilles, made abode;
Here join’d the battles; there the navy rode.
Part on the pile their wond’ring eyes employ: 40
The pile by Pallas rais’d to ruin Troy.
Thymoetes first (’t is doubtful whether hir’d,
Or so the Trojan destiny requir’d)
Mov’d that the ramparts might be broken down,
To lodge the monster fabric in the town. 45
But Capys, and the rest of sounder mind,
The fatal present to the flames designed,
Or to the wat’ry deep; at least to bore
The hollow sides, and hidden frauds explore.
The giddy vulgar, as their fancies guide, 50
[...] Read more
poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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Gebir
FIRST BOOK.
I sing the fates of Gebir. He had dwelt
Among those mountain-caverns which retain
His labours yet, vast halls and flowing wells,
Nor have forgotten their old master's name
Though severed from his people here, incensed
By meditating on primeval wrongs,
He blew his battle-horn, at which uprose
Whole nations; here, ten thousand of most might
He called aloud, and soon Charoba saw
His dark helm hover o'er the land of Nile,
What should the virgin do? should royal knees
Bend suppliant, or defenceless hands engage
Men of gigantic force, gigantic arms?
For 'twas reported that nor sword sufficed,
Nor shield immense nor coat of massive mail,
But that upon their towering heads they bore
Each a huge stone, refulgent as the stars.
This told she Dalica, then cried aloud:
'If on your bosom laying down my head
I sobbed away the sorrows of a child,
If I have always, and Heaven knows I have,
Next to a mother's held a nurse's name,
Succour this one distress, recall those days,
Love me, though 'twere because you loved me then.'
But whether confident in magic rites
Or touched with sexual pride to stand implored,
Dalica smiled, then spake: 'Away those fears.
Though stronger than the strongest of his kind,
He falls-on me devolve that charge; he falls.
Rather than fly him, stoop thou to allure;
Nay, journey to his tents: a city stood
Upon that coast, they say, by Sidad built,
Whose father Gad built Gadir; on this ground
Perhaps he sees an ample room for war.
Persuade him to restore the walls himself
In honour of his ancestors, persuade -
But wherefore this advice? young, unespoused,
Charoba want persuasions! and a queen!'
'O Dalica!' the shuddering maid exclaimed,
'Could I encounter that fierce, frightful man?
Could I speak? no, nor sigh!'
'And canst thou reign?'
Cried Dalica; 'yield empire or comply.'
Unfixed though seeming fixed, her eyes downcast,
The wonted buzz and bustle of the court
From far through sculptured galleries met her ear;
Then lifting up her head, the evening sun
Poured a fresh splendour on her burnished throne-
[...] Read more
poem by Walter Savage Landor
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Toeing To Toe
Did you leave your cookie cutter,
Near that boiling pot?
And it got too hot,
To get your cookies baked to taste.
Did you leave your cookie cutter,
Near that boiling pot?
Now you think you should stop...
Concentrating on your need,
For sweets.
But if you wanna,
You can still whip up...
A cool mint 'coolah-tah'.
Or have some green tea with me.
I'm having crackers and cheese.
And if you wanna,
You can still whip up...
That cool mint 'coolah-tah'.
Add some snuggled hugging....
With your toe to my toes touch too!
Did you leave your cookie cutter,
Near that boiling pot?
And it got too hot,
To get your cookies baked to taste.
Did you leave your cookie cutter,
Near that boiling pot?
Now you think you should stop...
Concentrating on your need,
For sweets.
So if you wanna,
You can still whip up...
A cool mint 'coolah-tah'.
And do some toe to toe with me.
That's if you wanna,
Do some toeing to toe...
With me.
If you wanna,
Do some toeing to toe with me.
That's if you wanna,
Do some toeing to toe...
With me.
If you wanna,
Do some toeing to toe with me.
That's if you wanna,
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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VII. Pompilia
I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.
All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.
Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Danger Zone
Shaking off the tresholds of a long forgotten dream
And you just can't make it last
Coaching paradise on a personal line
But you get fired to fast
And you lie, memories drifting by
Love don't make it on those pin-striped nights
When you're looking through someone's disguise
You can't make it alone, so you gotta make a move
But you're looking at nobody's eyes
Well that's love, or maybe love come and go
Looking for love is a danger zone
Love don't go begging in the danger zone
You won't get nothing from the danger zone
Tales that you tell from the stories that you'll hear
And you'll get what you can while you may
Don't understand when you're looking for a dame
But it's only a heartbreak away
And you'll learn, faking has no return
No way when you're feeling that way
Will your feet get caught up in the crowd
And the song that you sing is too soft to be heard
But your speakers are way too loud
Like the pain, loving is no big game
Looking for love is a danger zone
No don't go living in the danger zone
You won't get nothing from the danger zone
Don't take no chances in the danger zone
Love don't go begging in the danger zone
No don't go living in the danger zone
You won't get nothing from the danger zone
Don't take no chances in the danger zone
Love don't go begging in the danger zone
song performed by Rainbow
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tannhauser
The Landgrave Hermann held a gathering
Of minstrels, minnesingers, troubadours,
At Wartburg in his palace, and the knight,
Sir Tannhauser of France, the greatest bard,
Inspired with heavenly visions, and endowed
With apprehension and rare utterance
Of noble music, fared in thoughtful wise
Across the Horsel meadows. Full of light,
And large repose, the peaceful valley lay,
In the late splendor of the afternoon,
And level sunbeams lit the serious face
Of the young knight, who journeyed to the west,
Towards the precipitous and rugged cliffs,
Scarred, grim, and torn with savage rifts and chasms,
That in the distance loomed as soft and fair
And purple as their shadows on the grass.
The tinkling chimes ran out athwart the air,
Proclaiming sunset, ushering evening in,
Although the sky yet glowed with yellow light.
The ploughboy, ere he led his cattle home,
In the near meadow, reverently knelt,
And doffed his cap, and duly crossed his breast,
Whispering his 'Ave Mary,' as he heard
The pealing vesper-bell. But still the knight,
Unmindful of the sacred hour announced,
Disdainful or unconscious, held his course.
'Would that I also, like yon stupid wight,
Could kneel and hail the Virgin and believe!'
He murmured bitterly beneath his breath.
'Were I a pagan, riding to contend
For the Olympic wreath, O with what zeal,
What fire of inspiration, would I sing
The praises of the gods! How may my lyre
Glorify these whose very life I doubt?
The world is governed by one cruel God,
Who brings a sword, not peace. A pallid Christ,
Unnatural, perfect, and a virgin cold,
They give us for a heaven of living gods,
Beautiful, loving, whose mere names were song;
A creed of suffering and despair, walled in
On every side by brazen boundaries,
That limit the soul's vision and her hope
To a red hell or and unpeopled heaven.
Yea, I am lost already,-even now
Am doomed to flaming torture for my thoughts.
O gods! O gods! where shall my soul find peace?'
He raised his wan face to the faded skies,
Now shadowing into twilight; no response
Came from their sunless heights; no miracle,
As in the ancient days of answering gods.
[...] Read more
poem by Emma Lazarus
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(I'm Not Your) Steppin' Stone
I I I I I'm not your stepping stone
I I I I I'm not your stepping stone
You're trying to make your mark in society
Using all the tricks that you used on me.
You're reading all those high fashion magazines
The clothes you're wearin' girl are causing public scenes.
I said
I I I I I'm not your stepping stone
I I I I I'm not your stepping stone
Not your stepping stone,
Not your stepping stone.
When I first met you girl you didn't have no shoes
Now you're walking 'round like you're front page news.
You've been awful careful 'bout the friends you choose
But you won't find my name in your book of Who's Who.
I said
I I I I I'm not your stepping stone
I I I I I'm not your stepping stone
Not your stepping stone,
Not your stepping stone
song performed by Monkees
Added by Lucian Velea
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Steppin' Stone
(i'm not your) steppin' stone
By tommy boyce and bobby hart
I i i i i'm not your stepping stone
I i i i i'm not your stepping stone
You're trying to make your mark in society
Your using all the tricks that you used on me.
You're reading all them high fashion magazines
The clothes you're wearin' girl are causing public scenes.
I said
I i i i i'm not your stepping stone
I i i i i'm not your stepping stone
Not your stepping stone,
Not your stepping stone.
When i first met you girl you didn't have no shoes
Now you're walking 'round like you're front page news.
You've been awful careful 'bout the friends you choose
But you won't find my name in your book of who's who.
I said
I i i i i'm not your stepping stone
I i i i i'm not your stepping stone
Not your stepping stone,
Not your stepping stone.
song performed by Monkees
Added by Lucian Velea
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God Rest Ye Merry, Gentleman
God rest ye merry, gentlemen
Let nothing you dismay
Remember, Christ, our Saviour
Was born on Christmas day
To save us all from Satan's power
When we were gone astray
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy
In Bethlehem, in Israel,
This blessed Babe was born
And laid within a manger
Upon this blessed morn
The which His Mother Mary
Did nothing take in scorn
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy
From God our Heavenly Father
A blessed Angel came;
And unto certain Shepherds
Brought tidings of the same:
How that in Bethlehem was born
The Son of God by Name.
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy
"Fear not then," said the Angel,
"Let nothing you affright,
This day is born a Saviour
Of a pure Virgin bright,
To free all those who trust in Him
From Satan's power and might."
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy
The shepherds at those tidings
Rejoiced much in mind,
And left their flocks a-feeding
In tempest, storm and wind:
And went to Bethlehem straightway
The Son of God to find.
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy
And when they came to Bethlehem
Where our dear Saviour lay,
They found Him in a manger,
Where oxen feed on hay;
His Mother Mary kneeling down,
[...] Read more
song performed by Carly Simon
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi
Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Pharsalia - Book VIII: Death Of Pompeius
Now through Alcides' pass and Tempe's groves
Pompeius, aiming for Haemonian glens
And forests lone, urged on his wearied steed
Scarce heeding now the spur; by devious tracks
Seeking to veil the footsteps of his flight:
The rustle of the foliage, and the noise
Of following comrades filled his anxious soul
With terrors, as he fancied at his side
Some ambushed enemy. Fallen from the height
Of former fortunes, still the chieftain knew
His life not worthless; mindful of the fates:
And 'gainst the price he set on Caesar's head,
He measures Caesar's value of his own.
Yet, as he rode, the features of the chief
Made known his ruin. Many as they sought
The camp Pharsalian, ere yet was spread
News of the battle, met the chief, amazed,
And wondered at the whirl of human things:
Nor held disaster sure, though Magnus' self
Told of his ruin. Every witness seen
Brought peril on his flight: 'twere better far
Safe in a name obscure, through all the world
To wander; but his ancient fame forbad.
Too long had great Pompeius from the height
Of human greatness, envied of mankind,
Looked on all others; nor for him henceforth
Could life be lowly. The honours of his youth
Too early thrust upon him, and the deeds
Which brought him triumph in the Sullan days,
His conquering navy and the Pontic war,
Made heavier now the burden of defeat,
And crushed his pondering soul. So length of days
Drags down the haughty spirit, and life prolonged
When power has perished. Fortune's latest hour,
Be the last hour of life! Nor let the wretch
Live on disgraced by memories of fame!
But for the boon of death, who'd dare the sea
Of prosperous chance?
Upon the ocean marge
By red Peneus blushing from the fray,
Borne in a sloop, to lightest wind and wave
Scarce equal, he, whose countless oars yet smote
Upon Coreyra's isle and Leucas point,
Lord of Cilicia and Liburnian lands,
Crept trembling to the sea. He bids them steer
For the sequestered shores of Lesbos isle;
For there wert thou, sharer of all his griefs,
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poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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Book the Second
Thou hearest the Nightingale begin the Song of Spring.
The Lark sitting upon his earthly bed, just as the morn
Apears, listens silent; then springing from the waving Corn-field loud
He leads the Choir of Day! trill, thrill, thrill, trill,
Mounting upon the wings of light into the great Expanse,
Reechoing against the lovely blue & shining heavenly Shell.
His little throat labours with inspiration; every feather
On throat & breast & wings vibrates with the effluence Divine.
All Nature listens silent to him, & the awful Sun
Stands still upon the Mountain looking on this little Bird
With eyes of soft humility & wonder, love & awe.
Then loud from their green covert all the Birds begin their Song:
The Thrush, the Linnet & the Goldfinch, Robin & the Wren
Awake the Sun from his sweet reverie upon the Mountain;
The Nightingale again assays his song, & thro’ the day
And thro’ the night warbles luxuriant, every Bird of Song
Attending his loud harmony with admiration & love.
This is a Vision of the lamentation of Beulah over Ololon.
Thou perceivest the Flowers put forth their precious Odours,
And none can tell how form so small a center comes such sweets,
Forgetting that within that Center Eternity expends
Its ever during doors that Og & Anak fiercely guard.
First, e’er the morning breaks, joy opens in the flowery bosoms,
Joy even to tears, which the
Sun rising dries; first the Wild Thyme
And Meadow-sweet, downy & soft, waving among the reeds,
Light springing on the air, lead the sweet Dance: they wake
The Honeysuckle sleeping on the Oak; the flaunting beauty
Revels along upon the wind; the White-thorn, lovely May,
Opens her many lovely eyes; listening the Rose still sleeps –
None dare to wake her; soon she bursts her crimson curtain’d bed
And comes forth in the majesty of beauty; every Flower,
The Pink, the Jessamine, the Wall-flower, the Carnation,
The Jonquil, the mild Lilly opes her heavens; every Tree
And Flower & Herb soon fill the air with an innumberable Dance,
Yet all in order sweet & lovely. Men are sick with Love.
Such is a Vision of the Lamentation of Beulah over Ololon.
And Milton oft sat upon the Couch of Death, & oft conversed
In vision & dream beatific with the Seven Angels of the Presence:
‘I have turned my back upon these Heavens builded on cruelty.
My Spectre still wandering thro’ them follows my Emanation;
He hunts her footsteps thro’ the snow & the wintry hail & rain.
The idiot Reasoner laughs at the Man of Imagination,
And from laughter proceeds o murder by undervaluing calumny.’
Then Hillel, who is Lucifer, replied over the Couch of Death,
And thus the Seven angels instructed him, & thus they converse:
‘We are not Individuals but States, Combinations of Individuals.
We were Angels of the Divine Presence, & were Druids in Annandale,
Compell’d to combine into Form by Satan, the Spectre of Albion,
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poem by William Blake from Milton (1810)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Are the Children Alright
In the root zone
The children are camouflaged
In the zone of the sun’s light
The children are building industries
In the zone of bones
The children are mining their flesh
So full of sorrow for the fathers
Whose ignorance has spent
The strength of their muscles
On the wages paid beneath
The shadow of commerce
In the war zone
The children are catching bomb
With their skin and they dream
Of how with ease is dying done
In the zone of the moment
The children are counting
The thin dogs running wild
In the wilderness on the out skirt of town
In the comfort zone
The children are cautious
Of fathers who whisper
Familiarity of the beauty sons
In the zone of disbelief
The children are straining
To hear the echo of a mystery
Told about the current constellations
When the children were gathering
In squalor beneath the journey
That has taken control of them
As an unsettled melody
In the zone of the market place
The children are faceless laborers
Fearless and faultless of the wars
For food we wage
In the zone of hunger
The children are bloated
To their bones
Their skin drapes
The flies drink from their eyes
In the zone of urgency
The children are baring weapons
At sunrise and putting on
A grown up’s uniforms
poem by David E. Patton
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Metamorphoses: Book The Ninth
Theseus requests the God to tell his woes,
Whence his maim'd brow, and whence his groans arose
Whence thus the Calydonian stream reply'd,
With twining reeds his careless tresses ty'd:
Ungrateful is the tale; for who can bear,
When conquer'd, to rehearse the shameful war?
Yet I'll the melancholy story trace;
So great a conqu'ror softens the disgrace:
Nor was it still so mean the prize to yield,
As great, and glorious to dispute the field.
The Story of Perhaps you've heard of Deianira's name,
Achelous and For all the country spoke her beauty's fame.
Hercules Long was the nymph by num'rous suitors woo'd,
Each with address his envy'd hopes pursu'd:
I joyn'd the loving band; to gain the fair,
Reveal'd my passion to her father's ear.
Their vain pretensions all the rest resign,
Alcides only strove to equal mine;
He boasts his birth from Jove, recounts his spoils,
His step-dame's hate subdu'd, and finish'd toils.
Can mortals then (said I), with Gods compare?
Behold a God; mine is the watry care:
Through your wide realms I take my mazy way,
Branch into streams, and o'er the region stray:
No foreign guest your daughter's charms adores,
But one who rises in your native shores.
Let not his punishment your pity move;
Is Juno's hate an argument for love?
Though you your life from fair Alcmena drew,
Jove's a feign'd father, or by fraud a true.
Chuse then; confess thy mother's honour lost,
Or thy descent from Jove no longer boast.
While thus I spoke, he look'd with stern disdain,
Nor could the sallies of his wrath restrain,
Which thus break forth. This arm decides our right;
Vanquish in words, be mine the prize in fight.
Bold he rush'd on. My honour to maintain,
I fling my verdant garments on the plain,
My arms stretch forth, my pliant limbs prepare,
And with bent hands expect the furious war.
O'er my sleek skin now gather'd dust he throws,
And yellow sand his mighty muscles strows.
Oft he my neck, and nimble legs assails,
He seems to grasp me, but as often fails.
Each part he now invades with eager hand;
Safe in my bulk, immoveable I stand.
So when loud storms break high, and foam and roar
Against some mole that stretches from the shore;
The firm foundation lasting tempests braves,
Defies the warring winds, and driving waves.
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