On the Death of Anne Brontë
There's little joy in life for me,
And little terror in the grave;
I've lived the parting hour to see
Of one I would have died to save.
Calmly to watch the failing breath,
Wishing each sigh might be the last;
Longing to see the shade of death
O'er those beloved features cast.
The cloud, the stillness that must part
The darling of my life from me;
And then to thank God from my heart,
To thank Him well and fervently;
Although I knew that we had lost
The hope and glory of our life;
And now, benighted, tempest-tossed,
Must bear alone the weary strife.
poem by Charlotte Bronte (1849)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Power of Love
Love, indeed thy strength is mighty
Thus, alone, such strife to bear
Three 'gainst one, and never ceasing
Death, and Madness, and Despair!
'Tis not my own strength has saved me;
Health, and hope, and fortitude,
But for love, had long since failed me;
Heart and soul had sunk subdued.
Often, in my wild impatience,
I have lost my trust in Heaven,
And my soul has tossed and struggled,
Like a vessel tempest-driven;
But the voice of my beloved
In my ear has seemed to say
'O, be patient if thou lov'st me!'
And the storm has passed away.
When outworn with weary thinking,
Sight and thought were waxing dim,
And my mind began to wander,
And my brain began to swim,
Then those hands outstretched to save me
Seemed to call me back again
Those dark eyes did so implore me
To resume my reason's reign,
That I could not but remember
How her hopes were fixed on me,
And, with one determined effort,
Rose, and shook my spirit free.
When hope leaves my weary spirit
All the power to hold it gone
That loved voice so loudly prays me,
'For my sake, keep hoping on,'
That, at once my strength renewing,
Though Despair had crushed me down,
I can burst his bonds asunder,
And defy his deadliest frown.
When, from nights of restless tossing,
Days of gloom and pining care,
Pain and weakness, still increasing,
Seem to whisper 'Death is near,'
And I almost bid him welcome,
Knowing he would bring release,
Weary of this restless struggle
Longing to repose in peace,
Then a glance of fond reproval
Bids such selfish longings flee
And a voice of matchless music
Murmurs 'Cherish life for me!'
Roused to newborn strength and courage,
Pain and grief, I cast away,
Health and life, I keenly follow,
Mighty Death is held at bay.
Yes, my love, I will be patient!
Firm and bold my heart shall be:
Fear not -- though this life is dreary,
I can bear it well for thee.
Let our foes still rain upon me
Cruel wrongs and taunting scorn;
'Tis for thee their hate pursues me,
And for thee, it shall be borne!
poem by Anne Brontë
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Tear And A Smile
I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart
For the joys of the multitude.
And I would not have the tears that sadness makes
To flow from my every part turn into laughter.
I would that my life remain a tear and a smile.
A tear to purify my heart and give me understanding
Of life's secrets and hidden things.
A smile to draw me nigh to the sons of my kind and
To be a symbol of my glorification of the gods.
A tear to unite me with those of broken heart;
A smile to be a sign of my joy in existence.
I would rather that I died in yearning and longing than that I live Weary and despairing.
I want the hunger for love and beauty to be in the
Depths of my spirit,for I have seen those who are
Satisfied the most wretched of people.
I have heard the sigh of those in yearning and Longing, and it is sweeter than the sweetest melody.
With evening's coming the flower folds her petals
And sleeps, embracingher longing.
At morning's approach she opens her lips to meet
The sun's kiss.
The life of a flower is longing and fulfilment.
A tear and a smile.
The waters of the sea become vapor and rise and come
Together and area cloud.
And the cloud floats above the hills and valleys
Until it meets the gentle breeze, then falls weeping
To the fields and joins with brooks and rivers to Return to the sea, its home.
The life of clouds is a parting and a meeting.
A tear and a smile.
And so does the spirit become separated from
The greater spirit to move in the world of matter
And pass as a cloud over the mountain of sorrow
And the plains of joy to meet the breeze of death
And return whence it came.
To the ocean of Love and Beauty----to God.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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So Much Life Longing For More Life
SO MUCH LIFE LONGING FOR MORE LIFE
So much life longing for more life
Wanting to live so much
To feel to experience to know to enjoy to love.
So much life
Others have lived
So much life
I would have lived.
And the life I have lived?
More than I can know or understand
So much of it gone forever.
And all the longing and all the memories
And all the love,
Where is it now?
I have lived so much
And never lived enough
And want to live too much more
And know I will never live enough
And know I have lived so much much more
Than I will ever know again.
Life and more life,
Longing and more longing,
Life- Please God-
Not Death.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Aeroplane Flies High
Love is a sentimental heart
Life is a sentimental way
Spy the fragile heart so cursed
As he walks across this earth
I'm disconnected by your smile
Disconnect a million miles
And what you promised me
I hope will set you free
I'm disconnected by your smile
And all I gave to you is lost
And all you took from me is lost
Black wings carry me so high
Up to meet you in the sky
I'm disconnected by your smile
Disconnect a million miles
And what you promised me
I hope will set you free
I'm disconnected by your smile
Wishing you were real to me
Wishing i could make believe
I'll take my secrets to the grave
Safely held beneath the waves
Always knew I couldn't save
Always knew I couldn't save you
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins from The Aeroplane Flies High
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wishing long live the butterflys
Wishing you were free
Wishing going wherever you see
Wishing life isnt plain
Wishing you have no pain
Wishing you can breath
Wishing you cant leave
Wishing you can stay
Wishing you can fly
Wishing you have the whole day
Wishing to watch the clouds pass by
Wishing you were a butterfly
Iong live that butterfly
poem by Fading Heart
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Perfect Union
W.K.C.--3rd MARCH, 1879.
'A free man thinks of nothing so little as of death; and his wisdom is a meditation, not of death, but of life.' --Spinoza.
'DRAW back the curtain, wife,' he said;
And, dying, raised his feeble head,
As all his gathered soul leaped sheer
Into his waning eyes, and yearned
After the journeying sun which turned
Towards that other hemisphere.
Then, as its incandescent bulk
Sank slowly, like the foundering hulk
Of some lone burning ship at sea,
His life set with it--bright as brief--
In that invincible belief
Of Man's august supremacy.
Truth's vanward hero! Calmly brave
Fronting the dumb unfathomed grave
With unintimidated eyes;
Though not for him, beyond its night,
Resuscitated Hope alight
Prescient, on peaks of Paradise.
And like some solemn parting word
From one belovèd friend on board
Bound for some undiscovered shore,
To one who stands with straining gaze
To catch the last look of a face
Which he may see, ah never more--
So, ere he drifted to the deep
Unknowable, the utter sleep,
Out, out beyond life's harbour bar,
He whispered, 'Perfect! no one knows
How perfect!' and his eyes did close
Even like a sun-extinguished star.
His eyes did close: I held his hand:
I loved, so came to understand
The inmost working of his mind;
Yea, in that clasp, I know not how,
Did not his life of life then flow
Through mine, while mine was left behind?
I know not how, and yet it seems
As in some prank of shifting dreams,
That it was I who died, not he:
And then again, I know not how,
I feel new powers upheave and glow,
And all his life that stirs in me.
I am no longer what I was;
My nature is the pictured glass,
Where he who lived lives on and on;
All ye who loved him, ye may see
His spirits still investing me,
As moonlight but reflects the sun.
For ever deepening grows his sway:
A voice cries in me night and day:
'He'll never die to me, his wife;
In our strong love death hath no part;
I hold and fold him in my heart--
There he shall live while I have life.'
poem by Mathilde Blind
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Workin' Man (Nowhere To Go)
Wishing well, wish me well
on a dream bought with a penny
wishing well, time will tell
I can see that there are so many
lonely faces stare from your pool
and I can\'t bear to see a fool tonight
so make it right wishing well
wishing well, could you tell, as I stood beside her
did you know she would go
then why did you hide it
if you knew then I\'d be without her now
you could have let me know somehow
can\'t wish and tell, wishing well
wishing well, cast a spell, send her love\'s sweet emotion
do your part, touch her heart with truest devotion
If there\'s a chance, I won\'t believe we\'re thru
show me wishes still come true
it\'s up to you, wishing well
Show me wishes still come true,
It\'s up to you, wishing well
its up to you, wishing well
it\'s up to you, wishing well
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Greater Loyalty
This will be our family secret don't tell others how he died
Never mention how my darling son took his own life in suicide
Don't want them saying he opted out of life they would never understand
How our beloved teenager he died at his own hand.
Don't tell anyone we found him hanging from the low branch of a tree
Tell them 'twas of a heart attack that he died suddenly
We do not need their judgements my son must rest in peace
It was of his own choosing that from life he choose release.
Of the darkness that surrounded him we never were to know
The mother she has shed her tears for her son who died six months ago
For to save him from the judgements of the living for her dead son she will lie
She will never admit that he was one who choose his own way to die.
No greater loyalty than the loyalty of a mother when all is said and done
From the judgements of the living she lies to protect her dead son
She takes flowers twice a week to place on the grave where he does lay
And she will grieve for her deceased son till her own dying day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Wishing Well
Wishing well, wish me well
On a dream bought with a penny
Wishing well, time will tell
I can see that there are so many
Lonely faces stare from your pool
And I cant bear to see a fool tonight
So make it right wishing well
Wishing well, could you tell, as I stood beside her
Did you know she would go
Then why did you hide it
If you knew then Id be without her now
You could have let me know somehow
Cant wish and tell, wishing well
Wishing well, cast a spell, send her loves sweet emotion
Do your part, touch her heart with truest devotion
If theres a chance, I wont believe were thru
Show me wishes still come true
Its up to you, wishing well
Show me wishes still come true,
Its up to you, wishing well
Its up to you, wishing well
Its up to you, wishing well
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hope is a part of Life
Hope is for happiness to an ending
Hope is nothing if you don't beleive
Hope is a shooting star if you see one
Something can never end so, Hope is a part of Life
Hope is delicate from heaven to hell
Hope can't always help the gods
Hope shoudn't be about exciestence
Sometime when you're giving up on something, Hope is a part of Life
Hope can be an empty trail
Hope isn't for punishment or love
Hope is not a welcome guest
When is it that I saw you last time?
is it when we saw Hope is a part of Life
Hope can never be changed
What else that can be hope?
Hope is a passion
Hope can't always save you
Hope is something in Life that doesn't always happen everyday......
poem by Vanessa Sleeth
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November 28,2007 is the International Day of Stillness: A Poem for the day
'Stillness is my beloved teacher.
From her, I learn new things every day.'
I said to Stillness,
How can you teach me so well?
Stillness said,
By being with you always.
I said to Stillness,
How can you teach me so much?
Stillness said,
Because you have much within you;
I, but a mirror for your mind;
I, but a mirror for your heart.
I said to Stillness,
O my beloved teacher, will you
promise me you will never leave me?
Stillness said,
I cannot leave you;
though you can leave me..
but what is stillness without a companion?
I said to Stillness,
Is your work hard?
Stillness said,
I have the most wonderful task that I could wish for:
I sit with babies while they smile;
I sit with children in the classroom
as they delight to learn;
I sit with the angry and disturbed,
and watch them grow to peace;
I sit with the sad and lonely and bereaved
and watch them rediscover happiness and joy;
I sit with kings and queens and rulers
while they find wisdom and mercy;
I sit with governments and committees
while they find reason and justice;
I sit with artists and scientists,
and watch them find new things outside themselves,
and find new things within themselves;
I sit with those who pray or meditate,
as they find God in themselves;
I sit at the feet of saints
while they become perfection;
I walk in the gardens of the dawn,
I walk in the gardens of the dusk;
in the deep of the night, I watch;
I fly with birds, in the silence of the air;
I watch the animals as they explore the earth;
I listen to the growing of the trees and plants;
I listen to the opening of the flowers;
Said Stillness,
I am the friend and the companion of all;
who would not love to share my life with me?
I said to Stillness,
May I never leave you.
And Stillness looked me in the eye,
and Stillness smiled at me:
‘I am born with every creature born
to be their friend for life.’
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Love Sonnet XVII
Beloved, lest I should remember, I
Must swift forget the wonder of last night.
Hot memory would but blacken out my sight
And dull my senses till they seemed to die.
How could I live, remembering that sigh…
That breath…that sob…that all sublime delight?
Eternal joy is death, I think, and might
Not such sweet madness kill me, coming nigh?
I died with you that hour. Or, if not, merged
Myself in you, commingling all my life
Within your own, until I fled and fled
Into your blood; and my pure pulses surged,
Heaped with the wedded bliss of man and wife…
Dying, I lived…and living, I was dead.
poem by Zora Bernice May Cross
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Her Memories
NOT by her grave: thither I bid them take
Fresh garlands of the flowers that pleased her best,
And lay them by the headstone, for my sake,
My token and remembrance with the rest:
But here, where in the brightening of the west
I see her mountains grow into the sky,
Her native world, and mine because of her,
Here, where that low sigh of the pinewood's stir,
That was her dearest music, fills all sound
,I am with her;
And always, always, past comes passing by,
Lost in her grave, but here as if half found.
Not by her grave: it is too still, too cold,
And save my loss is nothing with me there.
What memories have I there of her of old?
They came not there, the dear lost days that were;
Not she lies there, but only my despair;
Not she, but death and all my loneliness.
What memories save all memories love must shun?
I would not think of death and her as one;
She shall be only life-ful in my mind,
With life's self one;
A name of glad remindings and old bliss,
So something of her presence left behind.
Not by her grave: some day will I return,
When sorrow keeps its wont unvexed by place,
And, sitting on the turf beside, will learn
To call before me there her waking face,
Not that white face that slept and took no trace
Of change because I kissed it, nor for tears.
Some day; for now I should forget her so,
Lose the fair happy woman and but know
The coldness and the silence when she died,
Lose her all so,
My love that was my life of all for years.
She loved this music when the pinewoods sighed.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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To A Departed Spirit
From the bright stars, or from the viewless air,
Or from some world unreached by human thought,
Spirit, sweet spirit! if thy home be there,
And if thy visions with the past be fraught,
Answer me, answer me!
Have we not communed here of life and death?
Have we not said that love, such love as ours,
Was not to perish as a rose's breath,
To melt away, like song from festal bowers?
Answer me, answer me!
Thine eye's last light was mine - the soul thtat shone
Intensely, mournfully, through gathering haze -
Didst thou bear with thee to the shore unknown,
Nought of what lived in that long, earnest gaze!
Hear, hear, and answer me!
Thy voice - its low, soft, fervent, farewell tone
Thrilled through the tempest of the parting strife,
Like a faint breeze: - oh, from that music flown,
Send back
one
sound, if love's be quenchless life,
But once, oh! answer me!
In the still noontide, in the sunset's hush,
In the dead hour of night, when thought grows deep,
When the heart's phantoms from the darkness rush,
Fearfully beautiful, to strive with sleep -
Spirit! then answer me!
By the remembrance of our blended prayer;
By all our tears, whose mingling made them sweet
By our last hope, the victor o'er despair; -
Speak! if our souls in deathless yearnings meet;
Answer me, answer me!
The grave is silent: - and the far-off sky,
And the deep midnight - silent all, and lone!
Oh! if thy buried love make no reply,
What voice has earth! - Hear, pity, speak, mine own!
Answer me, answer me!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Stillness: a Poem for the International Day of Stillness, November 28
'Stillness is my beloved teacher.
From her, I learn new things every day.'
I said to Stillness,
how can you teach me so well?
Stillness said,
By being with you always.
I said to Stillness,
How can you teach me so much?
Stillness said,
Because you have much within you;
I, but a mirror for your mind;
I, but a mirror for your heart.
I said to Stillness,
O my beloved teacher, will you
promise me you will never leave me?
Stillness said,
I cannot leave you;
though you can leave me..
but what is stillness without a companion?
I said to Stillness,
Is your work hard?
Stillness said,
I have the most wonderful task that I could wish for:
I sit with babies while they smile;
I sit with children in the classroom
as they delight to learn;
I sit with the angry and disturbed,
And watch them grow to peace;
I sit with the sad and lonely and bereaved
and watch them rediscover happiness and joy;
I sit with kings and queens and rulers
while they find wisdom and mercy;
I sit with governments and committees
while they find reason and justice;
I sit with artists and scientists,
and watch them find new things outside themselves,
and find new things within themselves;
I sit with those who pray or meditate,
and watch them find God in themselves;
I sit at the feet of saints
while they become perfection;
I fly with birds, in the silence of the air;
I watch the animals as they explore the earth;
I hear the growing of the trees and plants;
I listen to the opening of the flowers;
I walk in the gardens of the dawn;
I walk in the gardens of the dusk;
in the deep of the night, I watch.
Said Stillness,
I am the friend and the companion of all;
who would not love to share my life with me?
I said to Stillness,
may I never leave you.
And Stillness looked me in the eye,
and Stillness smiled at me:
‘I am born with every creature born
to be their friend for life.’
*
(With acknowledgements to Iain Trousdell of New Zealand, whose poem quoted from in the first two lines inspired this extension..)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Casting All Your Cares
Cast all your cares to Jesus Christ, and peace will flow into your life.
Just cast every single burden to Him, even those ladened with sin.
Lay them at the foot of the cross, where He died for sins of the lost.
Even when your trials don’t cease, He will fill your heart with peace.
God wants to transform your life, through the power of Jesus Christ.
With the same power He displayed, when our Lord Jesus was raised.
That was three days after friend, for all the world He was condemned.
Where God judged the world’s sin; as our iniquity was placed on Him.
Christ died in much agony and pain, and it was all for our eternal gain.
When all the sin of this world, upon His shoulders by God was hurled.
The Sinless Lamb had died for all; and this to free us from Adam’s fall.
Christ, the firstfruits of God’s love, is now enthroned in Heaven above.
With God’s Power came His Grace, for His Only Son died in our place.
Christ had given His life to rise again, and this is the Hope for all men.
Believers are buried with Jesus Christ, and in Him we rise to New Life.
Christ’s bodily resurrection is the proof, of God’s Glorious Eternal Truth.
Remember that Christ died for all, and our burdens for Him are small.
Christ died to give us all new life, so He can deal with our daily strife.
So cast all your cares at His feet, for in Christ Jesus we are complete.
And until we look upon His face, Christ will sustain us with His Grace.
(Copyright ©02/2006)
Someone Put Your Hand Out
(exclusively released song from 1992)
Never try to talk about it
Its got to sound good to me inside
I just think about it
Im so undemanding
cause they say love is blind
Ive lived this life pretending
I can bear this hurt deep inside
The truth is that Im longing
For love thats so divine
Ive searched this whole world wishing
Shell be there time after time
So someone put your hand out
Im begging for your love
All I do is hand out a heart that needs your love
Ive lived my life the lonely
A soul that cries of shame
With handicapped emotions
Save me now from what still remains
Ill be your story hero
A serenading ryne
Im just needing that someone
Save me now from the path Im on...
So someone put your hand out
Im begging for your lovev
All I do is hand out a heart that needs your love
When you say we will dance til the light of day
Its just like the children in earths joy
When we pray will you promise me youll always stay
Its cause Im needing that someone
So someone put your hand out
Im begging for your love
All I do is hand out a heart that needs your love
(repeat and fade out)
song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mater Tenebrarum
In the endless nights, from my bed, where sleepless in anguish I lie,
I startle the stillness and gloom with a bitter and strong cry:
0 Love! 0 Beloved long lost! come down from thy Heaven above,
For my heart is wasting and dying in uttermost famine for love!
Come down for a moment! oh, come! Come serious and mild
And pale, as thou wert on this earth, thou adorable Child!
Or come as thou art, with thy sanctitude, triumph and bliss,
For a garment of glory about thee; and give me one kiss,
One tender and pitying look of thy tenderest eyes,
One word of solemn assurance and truth that
the soul with its love never dies!
In the endless nights, from my bed, where sleepless in frenzy I lie,
I cleave through the crushing gloom with a bitter and deadly cry:
Oh! where have they taken my Love from our Eden
of bliss on this earth?
Which now is a frozen waste of sepulchral and horrible dearth?
Have they killed her indeed? Is her soul as her body, which long
Has moldered away in the dust where the foul worms throng?
O'er what abhorrent Lethes, to what remotest star,
Is she rapt away from my pursuit through cycles and systems far?
She is dead, she is utterly dead; for her life would hear and speed
To the wild imploring cry of my heart that cries in its dreadful need.
In the endless nights, on my bed, where sleeplessly brooding I lie,
I burden the heavy gloom with a bitter an weary sigh:
No hope in this worn-out world, no hope beyond the tomb;
No living and loving God, but blind and stony Doom.
Anguish and grief and sin, terror, disease, and despair:
Why throw not off this life, this garment of torture I wear,
And go down to sleep in the grave in everlasting rest?
What keeps me yet in this life., what spark in my frozen breast?
A fire of dread, 'a light of hope, kindled, 0 Love, by thee;
For thy pure and gentle and beautiful soul, it must immortal be.
poem by James Thomson
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Slain
Hollow a grave where the willows wave,
And lay him under the grasses,
Where the pitying breeze bloweth up from the seas,
And murmurs a chant as it passes.
Lay the beautiful face and the form of grace
Away from the gaze of mortal.
Let us hope that his soul has gained the goal
Over the shining portal.
Hope! Ah! we thrill with a terrible chill.
Ah! pen, can you tell the story
Of the one who died in his manhood's pride,
Slain in the morn of his glory?
There's a blemish of shame on the dear one's name,
For he died as the drunkard dieth.
The ruddy wine-mug was the fiend who dug
The grave where our darling lieth.
O God! and his soul, was it lost in the bowl?
Has it gone where the wicked goeth?
Shall he bear the sin, and the tempter go in
Where the beautiful city gloweth?
Hush! O my heart! act well thy part,
Nor question a Father's kindness,
And strive not to see the thing hid from thee
By a veil of earthly blindness.
But all through the wine may there shimmer and shine,
As it glimmers and glows in the glasses,
A coffin and grave, and the willows that wave
Over our dead 'neath the grasses.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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TRibute to a long dead poet for My friend Ben
One more unfortunate
weary of breath.
Rashly importunate
gone to her death.
Thomas Hood 1799-1845
Glosa
One more unfortunate
tired of strife.
Sad and disconsolate
flees now from life.
Weary of breath
She can no longer cope.
so chooses death.
Nothing for which to hope.
Rashly importunate
Impulsively
rushes to meet her fate
impatiently.
Gone to her death
in the waters below
she slips beneath
Why? We shall never know.
12-Feb-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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