Quotes about shaken, page 3
Honorable X...
it was only less than a year
his grandchild was charred by fire
that razed their house and car
they are still in mourning
the wife died two years ago
of an unknown infection
the doctor declares that there
was something incurable
his son had to stop the lawyering
on a broken tendon from a high fall
but he seems not to be shaken
a man needs to be shaken
like a tree that must shed its leaves
to grown new ones
last night he slept while driving
his Honda Civic
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On Hearing Of The Intention Of A Gentleman To Purchase The Poet's Freedom
When on life's ocean first I spread my sail,
I then implored a mild auspicious gale;
And from the slippery strand I took my flight,
And sought the peaceful haven of delight.
Tyrannic storms arose upon my soul,
And dreadful did their mad'ning thunders roll;
The pensive muse was shaken from her sphere,
And hope, it vanish'd in the clouds of fear.
At length a golden sun broke thro' the gloom,
And from his smiles arose a sweet perfume--
A calm ensued, and birds began to sing,
And lo! the sacred muse resumed her wing.
With frantic joy she chaunted as she flew,
And kiss'd the clement hand that bore her thro'
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poem by George Moses Horton
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The Chalice of Circe
DRINK of our Cup--of the red wine that burns in it,
All the wild shames that have crusted its mouth,
Passion that twists in it, Madness that churns in it,
Fever that yearns in it, Folly that turns in it,
Drink of our Cup! It is Love, it is Youth!
"Amorous valleys have travailed to breed in it,
Eden hath shaken one tree at its brim,
Syria scattered an infamous seed in it,
Paphos hath freed in it lovers, to bleed in it,
Foam from Armida hath rusted its rim!
Chalice of gold with the bruised roses dying there,
How the mad kisses have clustered and clung!
All the sweet loves of the world, softly crying there,
Longing and lying there, swooning and sighing there,
Call to me: "Scatter our wine on thy tongue!"
Rim of it: poisoned with carrion kisses,
Taints the fresh flower, and forbiddeth the sun:
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poem by Muriel Stuart
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The Garden of Prosperine
Here, where the world is quiet,
Here, where all trouble seems
Dead winds' and spent waves' riot
In doubtful dreams of dreams;
I watch the green field growing
For reaping folk and sowing,
For harvest-time and mowing,
A sleepy world of streams.
I am tired of tears and laughter,
And men that laugh and weep;
Of what may come hereafter
For men that sow to reap:
I am weary of days and hours,
Blown buds of barren flowers,
Desires and dreams and powers
And everything but sleep.
Here life has death for neighbour,
And far from eye or ear
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poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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The Olive
I have heard a friar say
That the Olive learned to pray
In Gethsemane,-
A holy man was he,
Jacopo by name,-
All upon his bended knees
From Jerusalem
He crossed Kedron brook
And to the garden came
Of Gethsemane,
And the very olive-trees
Are there to this day.
And I would have you know,
For I loved to hear him speak,
Good Friar Jacopo!-
That on an Easter-week,
In the time long ago
Of bloody Pilate 'King of Rome,'
Lord Jesus
To the garden-gate did come
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poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Lest We Forget [11 September 2001, A Requiem]
Through a hatred borne of fear, you plotted your course;
With each 'Freedom' as fodder, your animus grew worse;
Your ignorance cannot be countered with rational debate,
It is your fundamental flaw-you hate, for the sake of hate!
One tragic, late Summer day, whose infamy you ensured,
You destroyed a treasured symbol-and though now cured,
Inculcated great fear-not to mention the lives you have taken!
We are resolute and unafeared, where once, we were shaken.
Your victory was pyrrhic, and very short-lived-
For, our time for righteous retribution soon arrived!
You awakened a sleeping lion, from His peaceable sleep,
And now, your total annhilation is a promise we shall keep,
To the humble and brave families of those we have lost;
We are 'One Nation, Under God' that you should have never crossed!
Millions of heroes, from cities and towns both far and wide,
Each with an indefatigable sense of American pride,
Have assembled from disparate lives, to fight side by side,
To honor the memory of those who tragically died!
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poem by Maurice Harris
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Sapphics
All the night sleep came not upon my eyelids,
Shed not dew, nor shook nor unclosed a feather,
Yet with lips shut close and with eyes of iron
Stood and beheld me.
Then to me so lying awake a vision
Came without sleep over the seas and touched me,
Softly touched mine eyelids and lips; and I too,
Full of the vision,
Saw the white implacable Aphrodite,
Saw the hair unbound and the feet unsandalled
Shine as fire of sunset on western waters;
Saw the reluctant
Feet, the straining plumes of the doves that drew her,
Looking always, looking with necks reverted,
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poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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On A View Of Pasadena From The Hills
From the high terrace porch I watch the dawn.
No light appears, though dark has mostly gone,
Sunk from the cold and monstrous stone. The hills
Lie naked but not light. The darkness spills
Down the remoter gulleys; pooled, will stay
Too low to melt, not yet alive with day.
Below the windows, the lawn, matted deep
Under its close-cropped tips with dewy sleep,
Gives off a faint hush, all its plushy swarm
Alive with coolness reaching to be warm.
Gray windows at my back, the massy frame
Dull with the blackness that has not a name;
But down below, the garden is still young,
Of five years’ growth, perhaps, and terrace-hung,
Drop by slow drop of seeping concrete walls.
Such are the bastions of our pastorals!
Here are no palms! They once lined country ways,
Where old white houses glared down dusty days,
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poem by Yvor Winters
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A Litany
FIRST ANTIPHONE.
ALL the bright lights of heaven
I will make dark over thee;
One night shall be as seven
That its skirts may cover thee;
I will send on thy strong men a sword,
On thy remnant a rod;
Ye shall know that I am the Lord,
Saith the Lord God.
SECOND ANTIPHONE.
All the bright lights of heaven
Thou hast made dark over us;
One night has been as seven
That its skirt might cover us;
Thou hast sent on our strong men a sword,
On our remnant a rod;
We know that thou art the Lord,
O Lord our God.
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poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Blanket Syd
Here we are as smoke rings in the atmosphere stirred by our maidens
Churning, as spinning in orbit she incites gravity to push.
A rush of nightmares insist upon visions blurred,
I dreamt the night before last of otherworldly eyes beckoning
In the form I recognized as the girl for whom I longed.
A thousand girls have passed my way most without a smile to share,
Thronging in the nightmare riddled with familiar faces.
This girl she’s there beyond the stair fall, beyond dream time
Lost in reality skirting upon the edge as she wills the fall of
Restriction, dissolving friction in an instant, innocence beyond the
Keeping of youth’s grand adventure.
There lies another soul; a lover lost playing the fool.
There she lay begging to the camera, stammering whilst she feeds
From the pool of Apollo’s seed. What greed it is to witness, beyond the
Tendencies of the voyeur.
Dominant in submission, forget restrictions, let it ride.
The wave rises in flowing, I forget he moment, no regrets for the present.
Nowhere to hide, no need to run.
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poem by David Lacey
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