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Wat Tyler - Act II

ACT II.

SCENE— BLACKHEATH.

TYLER, HOB, &c.

SONG.

' When Adam delv'd, and Eve span,
' Who was then the gentleman?'

Wretched is the infant's lot,
Born within the straw-roof'd cot!
Be he generous, wise, or brave,
He must only be a slave.
Long, long labour, little rest,
Still to toil to be oppress'd;
Drain'd by taxes of his store,
Punish'd next for being poor;

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Southey
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Upon The Swallow

This pretty bird, O! how she flies and sings,
But could she do so if she had not wings?
Her wings bespeak my faith, her songs my peace;
When I believe and sing my doubtings cease.

poem by John Bunyan
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Clothing

Let them dry their clothes
As fresh as ripe fruit.
Wear them both even in deathblows,
Clothes are supreme as fruit and absolute.
Let the clothes bespeak the teeth
And read our sentence.
Why do cares become a wreath?
When do we read with abundance?

The attire is an abhorrence whenever
We try on new thoughts and then endeavour.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Brothers Of The Coast

Brotherhood creates order of catastrophes
Muttering under the dark recesses of the coast;
One hypothesis blames the hostilities,
An Indian shall bespeak and be farthermost.

This enemy of the state is dozy and mustard,
Gases of the miles are afoot, and angry,
I believe in the vastness of the slayer as awkward,
His solutions are hidden to the public and referee.

poem by Naveed Akram
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-12

Sangu Pushpam(White Butterfly Pea- Clitoria ternata 'Alba',
Clitoria ternatea)

Unto the Lord all by nature's blues
Hued with our queries..bespeak on
Ominous worries all.. freak upon
Retreat then blessed with azury smiles

Awaiting in whitened blossom is your sister
Pinnated maidens preambling a specific sacrament
Rooted in climbing uses, like sister is sister
O'blossoms of Sangu, fill my hands of pooja-heart

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Finding Treasure

Ruins are buildings of ripe fruit,
Inner souls work finer than heaven.
Must not the surety of life bespeak,
Must we insure their fear is true?
Ruined by the cold and weather
The innocence of men is like an adult.
Under this sea of hatred lies a golden medallion,
Master it for your pleasure to arise, to arise.
This gold forsakes underlings, this gold is truth,
For less of it stays, less treasure becomes.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Organizations

An ordinary organization becomes excessive
In its use of words, to confound the other people.
A gathering descends from the sky to last
For a very long time in troubles of yours.
The ordinary flights are cancelled now
As they must gather somewhere else
And faster is their travel for they take height seriously.
The tall organizations bespeak from generations
Of learning and meet to incur on the people mostly.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Towards Peace

Tomorrow can begin once you steer towards peace,
Inside the house of mercy is stored Byzantium.
To this brick of happiness and longevity
We study the references made of joy to come.
Winning us a favour on this side of the world
Is like that of Knowledge Keep.
Offer me a gift of tragedy to bespeak
And I will inherit all riches, so to the hardest.
Peace stores courage so mildly that we utter
Words of decisive nature, the opposite of regret.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Many Speak Like Giants

Many giants stagger at the battle they have fought,
Fighting inhibits the brain that rides and sways;
It innocently speaks, the wars bespeak to count,
So then fighting designs a right of conduct;
Many giants fall at their age of reason,
Reasons fell from the clouds and smothered with rain.
The real message awaits to see me as gigantic
And huge for the purpose,
I can wait and observe the crowd of people,
Watching is their insult and I have observed.

poem by Naveed Akram
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An Abacus

Those cowards are bright and joyous about life,
What living is agreed upon by the brave and afterlife?
These computers bespeak higher virtues than an imagination
With a hold on hell and devastating with an abbreviation.
These gadgets abolish the language of thoughts and design,
The blackness of screens is white, and the colour is to align.
We’ll wisely put our message in, in sacred times with cowardice
And we’ll wait forever with evil and also good to be like an abacus.

poem by Naveed Akram
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