Citatepedia^®.com

Behind the Magic Cottage

Who was the inspiration for the story,
'The Magic Cottage' from James Herbert's pen?
An author known for tales so often gory
embossed, engrossed with evils dreamt by men.

While others told of madness, fogs and rats.
In this departure, characters arose.
The 'Moon' no longer bade us doff our hats
to nameless cold cadavers whom he chose

to titilate our teenage tedium.
and sate or satisfy bloodythirsty youths.
Although he introduced the 'Medium'
and risked the true confusions of the truths.

'The Magic Cottage' plays hell with my soul...
the early chapters say more than the whole.

poem by Hola Mentirosa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Familiarity

Familiarity some claim
Can breed contempt,
So from it let it be your aim
To be exempt.
Let no one exercise his brawn
To slap your back,
Lest he forget your name is John,
And call you Jack.

To those who crash your private pew
Be sour as krout;
Don't let them see the real 'you,'
And bawl you out.
Don't call your Cousin William--Bill,
But formal be.
Have care! Beware and shun famil--
Iarity.

I'm quite polite. My hat I doff
But little say.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Plaid Dress

Strong sun, that bleach
The curtains of my room, can you not render
Colourless this dress I wear?—
This violent plaid
Of purple angers and red shames; the yellow stripe
Of thin but valid treacheries; the flashy green of kind deeds done
Through indolence high judgments given here in haste;
The recurring checker of the serious breach of taste?

No more uncoloured than unmade,
I fear, can be this garment that I may not doff;
Confession does not strip it off,
To send me homeward eased and bare;

All through the formal, unoffending evening, under the clean
Bright hair,
Lining the subtle gown. . .it is not seen,
But it is there.

poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Renouncement

I must not think of thee; and, tired yet strong,
I shun the love that lurks in all delight--
The love of thee--and in the blue heaven's height,
And in the dearest passage of a song.
Oh, just beyond the sweetest thoughts that throng
This breast, the thought of thee waits hidden yet bright;
But it must never, never come in sight;
I must stop short of thee the whole day long.
But when sleep comes to close each difficult day,
When night gives pause to the long watch I keep,
And all my bonds I needs must loose apart,
Must doff my will as raiment laid away,--
With the first dream that comes with the first sleep
I run, I run, I am gather'd to thy heart.

poem by Alice Meynell
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Relax

Do you recall that happy bike
With bundles on our backs?
How near to heaven it was like
To blissfully relax!
In cosy tavern of good cheer
To doff our heavy packs,
And with a mug of foamy beer
Relax.

Learn to relax: to clean the mind
Of fear and doubt and care,
And in vacuity to find
The perfect peace that's there.
With lassitude of heart and hand,
When every sinew slacks,
How good to rest the old bean and
Relax, relax.

Just sink back in an easy chair
For forty winks or so,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

A Mediocre Man

I'm just a mediocre man
Of no high-brow pretence;
A comfortable life I plan
With care and commonsense.
I do the things most people do,
I echo what they say;
And through my morning paper view
The problems of the day.

No doubt you think I'm colourless,
Profoundly commonplace;
And yet I fancy, more or less,
I represent the race.
My name may stand for everyone,
At least for nine in ten,
For all in all the world is run
By mediocre men.

Of course you'll maybe not agree
That you are average,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Eavesdropping

THOUGH the winds but stir on their hoary thrones
Of hemlock and pungent pine,
All the whispering woodland tones
Gossip of things divine, —
Why God is gray in the granite rock,
And green in the lichen flake,
And swift in the darting swallow-flock,
And slow in the lapping lake;
Why God is sweet in the hermit-thrush,
And hoarse in the frog; and why
His touch on the bee is golden plush,
And gauze on the stinging fly;
Why God is life in the mushroom there,
And death in the toadstool here;
Mirth in the dancing maidenhair;
In its hidden adder, fear.
Oh, if this berry that stains my lip
Could teach me the woodland chat,
Science would bow to my scholarship,
And Theology doff the hat.

poem by Katharine Lee Bates
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Stardust Ease

STARDUST EASE

From sad lamenting tune, night never-ending
to dawn of gladness far from cobweb mist,
life springs, renewing seasons, sunlight sending
as summer's promise shines - once sorely missed.
Where whining wind sighed desolation’s wronging,
strong dreams of gleaming harvest may prepare
for gleaning, silo filled with wondrous longing,
song stirring stardust, ease, must everywhere
doff shadow veils as moonlight wavers. Morning
sweeps doubt away with playful mirth reborn,
agenda struck are mind-grind, muddled mourning,
disharmony, walls artificial worn.
See hand-in-hand hope slough adversity
creating through your goodness, good in me.

[...] Read more

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

The Handsome Heart

at a Gracious Answer

‘But tell me, child, your choice; what shall I buy
You?’—‘Father, what you buy me I like best.’
With the sweetest air that said, still plied and pressed,
He swung to his first poised purport of reply.

What the heart is! which, like carriers let fly—
Doff darkness, homing nature knows the rest—
To its own fine function, wild and self-instressed,
Falls light as ten years long taught how to and why.

Mannerly-hearted! more than handsome face—
Beauty’s bearing or muse of mounting vein,
All, in this case, bathed in high hallowing grace…

Of heaven what boon to buy you, boy, or gain
Not granted?—Only … O on that path you pace
Run all your race, O brace sterner that strain!

poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Bank Robber

I much admire, I must admit,
The man who robs a Bank;
It takes a lot of guts and grit,
For lack of which I thank
The gods: a chap 'twould make of me
You wouldn't ask to tea.

I do not mean a burglar cove
Who climbs into a house,
From room to room flash-lit to rove
As quiet as a mouse;
Ah no, in Crime he cannot rank
With him who robs a Bank.

Who seemeth not to care a whoop
For danger at its height;
Who handles what is known as 'soup,'
And dandles dynamite:
Unto a bloke who can do that
I doff my bowler hat.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!