Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=425118" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ghosts</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Last passing leaves leave, life's page sage admires, <br>most boasts are ghost hosts, post haste phantom choirs, <br>now tripping, hesitant, upon life’s board, <br>stillborn, denying deepest heart’s desire.<br> <br>As puppets men, leaves, dance upon branch wire<br>taut from birth to death, - staged play's proved liar, <br>taught to act but not to BE! - the sword<br>of Fate each early, late, must all retire.<br> <br>For few dare seek the stars, or yet aspire<br>for freedom, seldom glance above their mire, <br>fear chloroforming chlorophyll cuts cord<br>that holds life's journey from horizons higher.<br> <br>The burning bush survived the blazing fire, <br>and witness stands to God the purifier, -<br>yet oil on troubled waters oft is poured<br>as Fall to Winter wanes, frost snaps high-flyer.<br> <br>Lifes leaves soon grieve, deceived by Summer, ire<br>replacing lush greens flush, Time sees misfire<br>intimations of immortality<br>when verdant vibrance turns red, brown, then mire. <br> <br>Life is too short, who strums soul poet’s lyre<br>must tame frame's vagrant strings. Sole versifier<br>intensely seeks sense off the fence, each chord<br>in tune with Autumn moon runes' mortal quire! <br> <br>Leaves drop, hearts stop, in season all retire<br>from green-scene bud to has been dud quagmire, <br>so little space to race then silent doom, <br>strum still tombed, dumb will catacombed entire.<br> <br>Revised 19 October 2011<br>see also Rubaiyat of Ghosts</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>GHOSTS</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Few passing strangers may the sage admire, <br>as most are ghosts without a phantom choir, <br>now tripping, hesitant, upon life’s board, <br>stillborn, denying e’en their heart’s desire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Most men as puppets dance upon a wire<br>taut from birth to death, - to play as liar, <br>taught to act but not to BE! - the sword<br>of Fate each early, late, must all retire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For few dare seek the stars, or yet aspire<br>for freedom, seldom glance above their mire, <br>for eighty, maybe ninety years life’s cord<br>they tread and never aim at something higher.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The burning bush survived the blazing fire, <br>and witness stands to God the purifier, -<br>yet oil on troubled waters oft is poured<br>by those who shun each prophet as a liar.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Life is too short, who strums the poet’s lyre<br>must tame the vagrant strings. The versifier<br>must seek deep harmony where every chord<br>in tune responds to feelings all inspire!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Jonathan+Robin">Jonathan Robin</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=425118" data-title="Ghosts de Jonathan Robin" data-description="Last passing leaves leave, life's page sage admires, 
most boasts are ghost hosts, post haste phantom choirs, 
now tripping, hesitant, upon life’s board, 
stillborn, denying deepest heart’s desire.
 
As puppets men, leaves, dance upon branch w..."></div>
</div>
</div>