Quotes about lying., page 7
Through the eyes of a Field Coronet (Epic)
Introduction
In the kaki coloured tent in Umbilo he writes
his life’s story while women, children and babies are dying,
slowly but surely are obliterated, he see how his nation is suffering
while the events are notched into his mind.
Lying even heavier on him is the treason
of some other Afrikaners who for own gain
have delivered him, to imprisonment in this place of hatred
and thoughts go through him to write a book.
Prologue
The Afrikaner nation sprouted
from Dutchmen,
who fought decades without defeat
against the super power Spain
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poem by Gert Strydom
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Courtship of Miles Standish, The
I
MILES STANDISH
In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims
To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive dwelling,
Clad in doublet and hose, and boots of Cordovan leather,
Strode, with a martial air, Miles Standish the Puritan Captain.
Buried in thought he seemed, with his hands behind him, and pausing
Ever and anon to behold his glittering weapons of warfare,
Hanging in shining array along the walls of the chamber, --
Cutlass and corselet of steel, and his trusty sword of Damascus,
Curved at the point and inscribed with its mystical Arabic sentence,
While underneath, in a corner, were fowling-piece, musket, and matchlock.
Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic,
Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron;
Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was already
Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November.
Near him was seated John Alden, his friend and household companion,
Writing with diligent speed at a table of pine by the window:
Fair-haired, azure-eyed, with delicate Saxon complexion,
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poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The corpse [Cadavrul]
The corpse is lying on the bed,
Immersed in gloom it does appear,
Because bewitched by other sphere
The soul divine abruptly fled.
And the quick mind inside the head
Has fully stopped to interfere,
The corpse is lying on the bed,
Immersed in gloom it does appear.
Repulsive, heavy as the lead,
And its appearance fair and clear,
Which used to spread a perfume dear,
Today is nothing but a shred...
The corpse is lying on the bed.
poem by Cincinat Pavelescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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The Darkest Black Rose
THE DARKEST BLACK ROSE
The darkest black rose lying by a gravestone.
Another love lost, another love dead.
The darkest black rose lying by a gravestone, I wonder how many tears you have witnessed spilt on holy soil.
The darkest black rose lying by a gravestone. Cold on the ground.the eerie quietness of the grave yard make this the most peaceful place on earth for the living and the spirits of the dead
“copyright 2009 Kerry Green all rights reserved”
http: //thepaganshop.co.uk/KerryGreen.aspx
poem by Kerry Green
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Sick at Home
Sick at home
Lying on the couch
No on to call on the phone
Your parents tell you to stop being a grouch
It's just so much pain
to be sick at home
no one will play your favorite game
you feel as if you're stuck inside a clear plastic dome
Sick at home
Lying on your bed
No on to call on the phone
Hoping that this hole being sick thing is in your head
not knowing what to do
feeling so board
feeling so blue
Trying no to abuse your vocal cord
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poem by Echo Moonlight
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They are no longer part of me
They are no longer part of me,
your arms, your legs, your thighs
and as far as I can see
although you are lying
spread out against my body
we are now dismantled,
after the passion, the intimacy of love
has passed
we are lying torn from each other
cheek away from cheek,
eyes not anymore focussed
into each other’s
and still we were one
a few moments ago,
(such a pleasurable whole thing)
consisting out of man and women
coming together in a loving act
and now we are two different beings
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poem by Gert Strydom
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Not lying there, but dying
Nobody saw him, the dead man
but still he was there
lying in the sun in the park
as he did the day before.
Poor guy, homeless, always was alone
a weathered man, some would call him a hobo
weathering the sun, sometimes the rain,
the winter chill,
having nothing to eat
and suddenly he was dead
and thought by everyone to be lying in the sun
and the last part of his life
he was weathering the elements
caught a nasty cough,
was days without food
and wasn’t lying there but dying.
[References: This poem was inspired by a article in the local newspaper (The Springs Advertiser) with the title: Left to die. Not Waving But Drowning by Stevie Smith.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Crooks In Diguise
For the general public so little respect they do show
They only tell us what they want us to know
They constantly pull the wool over our eyes
They must be the masters at secrets and lies
They lie for power and by lying to power they do cling
And their own praises they are never shy to sing
They must think we are fools in that they may be right
They are so good at lying they can convince many black is white
We must be quite gullible to believe all they say
They tell lie after lie and lying for them does pay
We give them their power which to their own adevantage they use
And the great power they have at a whim they abuse
We call them the honourable these crooks in disguise
Who have become excellent at telling lies.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Truth: : Humour, Inspiration
Tell the truth, are you crazy, the truth is for fools
In my clever world it’s lying which rules
Why opt for something as silly as sincerity
When you can easily choose dishonesty
Then you can tell lies upon lies upon lies
So many out there for you to devise
And believe them yourself, very nearly, why not
You weaved such an interesting, exciting plot
The truth, big deal, the truth is nothing but lies
My truth’s so much better, at least in my eyes
My lies versus the truth, so easy to win
Because I can keep lying ad nauseum
I’ll just spout out a lie, how easy was that
Don’t look for the truth in my kind of chat
You think I’ll be discovered, I’m way too smart
I’ll never say what’s there in my heart
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poem by Alessandra Liverani
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The Beauty of the Sky
Sitting there watching the sky
Watching the clouds pass me by
The sky is a deep blue
You can get lost in the clouds for a few
Day dreaming that you are floating on the clouds
Just you, with no one else around
Watching the clouds take a defined form
Observing the sky getting dark for a storm
Fierce lighting blazing
Lying there gazing
In amazement of the sky’s different faces
Dreaming about different places
Watching the sky turn orange and red
As the sun sets while lying there in my bed
In the early morning
Noticing the clouds forming
The purple and blue sky is grabbing my attention
It is too beautiful not to mention
It is breath taking
There is no mistaking
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poem by Ms. JStar
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