Quotes about lessen, page 6
D7
in our galaxy of humanity
as we float like planets trying to keep
ourselves within
our respective orbits
somehow
there are some points of
convergence
where we fuse our minds
on something that we feel
as
our experience
and we stop revolving for a while
and lessen our spins
to have a little conversation
with this passing moment
but as fate would have it
we let go
and resume our journeys again
around the sun
in the middle of this ocean
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fathom
Fathom the earth without sorrow
Would the heart of the traveler show gain
To not lessen from dirt that was fashioned
From the bowels of the earth without pain?
Surely the mantle of sorrow spoken of in lifes refrain
Must be formed by the paths that we travel
Our choices net us our gain
Strength of character boldly is a treasure worth seeking to find
All that life has to offer
Choose paths that seek honors' refrain.
(1996 Salt Lake City)
poem by James Smallwood
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A Hymn
O FLY, my Soul! What hangs upon
Thy drooping wings,
And weighs them down
With love of gaudy mortal things?
The Sun is now i' the east: each shade
As he doth rise
Is shorter made,
That earth may lessen to our eyes.
O be not careless then and play
Until the Star of Peace
Hide all his beams in dark recess!
Poor pilgrims needs must lose their way,
When all the shadows do increase.
poem by James Shirley
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Seasonal affective disorder (SAD)
So seasonal ills lull my every mood
Ice flows inward outward my thinking
Never does the spring thaw lessen its rude
Hold on my life; each day begs questioning.
How my overly anxious brain still ploughs on...
Spirit frozen stiff and September
Four decays darker now just begun.
My emotions amplify the dread December.
The 16th leading cause of death in females
Pulling at the fabric of my mind is death
By suicide the eighth cause of death in males
The winter-onset a stage for Macbeth!
poem by Mark Heathcote
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The Masochist Culture....
this incurable fanatic is condemned
every morning it opens the pages of its own realities
as though it is opening a wound
and lets the blood ooze
it finds joy in this kind
opening those which have healed and had been closed
for years now
this is the culture of masochism
manipulating the past giving it is unnecessary presence
perhaps
because there is nothing to see at all
nothing to do
perhaps to lessen the absurdity of what is here
there is nothing to touch
except these pages of
pain
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When The Son Makes The Mistake
when the son makes his mistakes
the mother is always there to comfort him
and lessen the pain and tell her son
to continue what needs to be done
the mother tells him the world is so big
and wide and it will always understand
the world is so big and so wide that
there will always be a space for him
and from there the son understands what
love is: it starts from a loving mother
and the son moves on to find a wife
whose love like that of his mother
must make him a real man since then.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I am the woman
I am the woman who is unstoppable
I am the woman
Whose dreams are immeasurable
I am the woman
Of a different breed, unbelievable
I am the woman
Of all times, incredible
I am a woman
With passion and purpose, unspeakable
I am the woman
Who decides where I should fall
In this universe, unpredictable
I am the woman
Who refuse to lessen my dreams
To meet man’s expectation, inconceivable
I am a woman
Of greatness and this greatness
Should never be compromise, remarkable
I am that GREAT WOMAN
poem by Kathy Elliott
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Mirror, Same Face As Yours
So many of you here
Still dream
Longing for the fire from
Those distant stars
Many of you
Still hope to lessen
The pain
Or get rid of these
Miseries
Tonight you will raise your arms
Begging for the moon
To shine upon you with
Hope
How poor
How miserable
Your faces show
The malady of mankind
Your wry smiles
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Memory That Lives
The scent of the roses
have filled the room.
They came today
to lessen my gloom.
Why the gloom?
why the doom?
There's a hole in my heart
like a cold stone tomb
filled with pain
ever present
like an empty womb.
I've lost my babe.
She was taken away
and 50 years later
there are roses to say
'Your pain is mine.
I feel it too.
For mine was the seed
placed in you.'
[...] Read more
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Busy Street
Shameless, nude always invites
To outrage her modesty,
Smooth and grey
who would not be
The victim of her
charm,
Pleased with being invaded
Yet wishes them to lessen
their intensity,
In search of peace most blameless Yet always ready for retribution,
Like a great saint who never minds to take
The burden of their sin,
Bearing the rage of elements and lost in her silence,
Like a harlot baring her bosom to all,
Welcomes each new and old visitor,
But ah!
Has anyone ever tried to descend in her emotions?
Still looks all the time so fresh and so new.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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