Of course, I am misrepresented very often, but so is everybody who has got something to say.
quote by Vanessa Redgrave
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
Misrepresented People
In 1492 you came upon these shores.
Seven hundred years, educated by the moors;
17th Century-- genocide and the gun
Middle Passage blessed to market the Africans.
In the so-called Land of God??
My kind were treated hard.
From back then until now
I see, and you agree--
We have been a misrepresented people.
From back then until now
Just see my family tree;
We have been a misrepresented people.
We have been a misrepresented people.
19th century-- slavery destroyed.
Soldiers who fought and won
Whats known as nigger-boys??.
20th century-- with freedom in my hand,
We invent ideas
Which helped us save a land,
But while I prayed to God
My moms and pops got whored.
From back then until now
Youll see our history;
We have been a misrepresented people.
From back then until now
Just see my family tree;
We have been a misrepresented people
Yes, we have been a misrepresented people.
1969-- Black power's at the door.
1982-- Hop-hop was on the floor.
1992-- Gangsta crack prevailed.
1999-- Our colors filled the jails.
It is through the grace of God
That we all were not scarred.
From back then until now
We see no comedy;
We have been a misrepresented people.
From back then until now
Were we still a mystery;
We have been a misrepresented people.
Yes, we have been a misrepresented people.
Though we march across time,
A sea of victories,
We have been a misrepresented people.
From back then until now
You know we made you grow;
We have been a misrepresented people.
We have been a misrepresented people.
From back then until now
We see our destiny
To never be a misrepresented people.
Yes, we march across to time to free
A melody
To never be a misrepresented people.
No you must never be a misrepresented people.
[Thanks to [email protected] for lyrics]
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sure, I've often been misrepresented - anyone frequently quoted has this experience.
quote by Todd Gitlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Usually a life turned into a poem is misrepresented.
quote by Mark Strand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But I learned first-hand how the news media operates by watching how they interpreted, changed, and misrepresented my intentions.
quote by Joey Skaggs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have often said that there is no cause for feeling disturbed at being misrepresented by the press. It would be only when they began to say things detrimental to me which were true that I should feel alarm.
quote by John Coolidge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Despite recent media reports that have clouded, or even misrepresented, the facts, there is compelling evidence that al-Qaida and Iraq have been linked for more than a decade.
quote by Elizabeth Dole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God is not There
a true religion,
if misinterpreted
misrepresented,
is as obsolete as
a fake religion
god is not there
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flow need not 'know
FLOW NEED NOT 'KNOW'
Abstract seems role-reversal, wrong
tack, off the tracks, emotions vented,
sore, flawed, unscored or scorning song,
cacophany to be prevented.
Flow need not 'know', for verse glows strong
with dream domain's home-truths presented.
Blank rant is rarely found among
felicities that Chance has scented,
blooming spontaneously along
lightwaves braving represented
barriers, blocks, constraints headstrong.
Brain's hard disc must be defragmented.
Talent - too misrepresented -
mistrusts far edge bars implemented.
18 February 2010
robi03_1953_robi03_0000 SXX_IXX
for first draft see below
Flow need not 'know'
Self tack take back or Right brain wrong
reacts with rant, emotions vented,
while Left behind scene stitch scores song
which out of tune may be prevented.
Flow need not 'know', for verse glows strong
if from within the truth's presented,
thought's rarely random, caught among
the lines of inklings Chance has scented,
should bloom spontaneously along
lightwaves braving represented
barriers, limits, blocks, constraints headstrong.
Brain's hard disc must be defragmented.
Talent - oft misrepresented -
mistrusts emotions implemented.
18 February 2010
Flow need not 'know' poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Buddha says;
The Buddha said:
We must open ourselves to the world
Knowing that what we sense about the world
Is Maya.
and the pupil asked: If what we see is an illusion
then what is the purpose of opening to lies?
The Buddha answered To open our inner eye
to the truth which is found by emptying oneself
of all that you know about the world.
the pupil asked: If all that we see is misrepresented
then what is the use of inquiry?
The Buddha said: You have already asked that question
What is the use of repeating the answer?
poem by George Murdock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Freedom And I
many a time i wonder
what's freedom is all about
the world and i
are so much obsessed
that when freedom does dawn
it's hardly ever discerned
pity, chained to the idea, the idea
in itself is taken for freedom
what's freedom worth when
in its name we collectively
and individually cling to that
misrepresented ideology?
when we spend last dropp of energy
in defending a clinging ideology?
can we ever free our clinging selves
from the chain
of grief
of bonds
within and without
and the resultant nightmares
that make us restive
in sleep as well wakefulness?
can we ever succeed in drawing
atleast one breath in that
one moment of fleeting freedom
and cherish it?
20dec2009
19.22hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Passionately Irate
In my own acquiescence,
I passively consented...
To those activities,
I could have easily prevented.
I've relied too long on documents,
To uphold my sentiments.
And although no one seems,
To be protecting my interests...
Do I have the right,
To protest in argument?
And why if I should do this...
Will I be regarded as a rebel?
With evil intent!
Should I care,
Since I alone have chosen to speak out...
In my own defense.
With no regard as to who is offended.
Upon realizing I have been misrepresented!
And this I seek to face,
To ensure an embracing of it has ended.
In my own acquiescence,
I passively consented...
To those activities,
I could have easily prevented.
Is it too late...
To save my fate in debate?
Or should I wait impatiently...
Like the others who have become,
Mentally disturbed and passionately irate!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Leman Lemon Relativity
LEMAN LEMON RELATIVITY
May 'rose' today, tomorrow symbolize
All once pomegranate represented?
Unthorned, unexpected rose' demise,
Destiny preferring lemon scented?
Eternity bears witness as time flies
Many former meanings are repented
As generation challenges, defies,
'Universal truths' plinths uncemented.
Defining lemon love we recognize
Evolution, ever discontented,
Modifies, old favorites downsized,
As newer fight for light misrepresented,
Unsatisfactory in any guise,
DEfinitions, reputations dented.
26 July 2008
robi03_1791_robi03_0000 ASX_LZX
Leman Lemon Relativity poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Confidence
Not easily refined or defined,
Is confidence.
Nor is it cropped to pluck,
Off from a Sun drenched vine.
To slowly savor for the flavor.
Confidence is a development.
A work in progess.
Not recited from studied print.
Nor listening as lectured...
From a podium will convince,
The taking of notes...
Will provoke it into existence.
Confidence,
Similar to experience...
Is something done,
That is seldom pleasant...
When it comes as a personal delivery.
And...
Most times arrogance is misrepresented for it.
However,
It does take obedience and strength to listen.
To then comprehend that failure does not mean to stop,
To yield and repeat flops.
As a sign that ambition obtained has been dropped.
No,
It does not!
Caution perhaps,
To proceed at your own risk.
But confidence does not allow obstacles to prevent,
Progress.
Or the jumping over hurdles.
Since each hurdle cleared...
Removes the fear to face another.
Clarifying anyone's doubt about confidence adopted!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A kind blessings
Life was smiling all the time with kind blessings
Nothing is left behind to be remembered as missing
Life seems totally fulfilled with no memory to lapse
What can be dreamed of other than this or anything else?
It is not that I have not come across failures
Lady luck was always smiling and everything was for sure
I had to struggle very hard to live with changing world
I continue to remain within sphere and in fold
So much to remember and nothing to forget
Nothing to leave to uncertainty and goal to set
That is how life had rewarded for days to come
I miss all past days and wish them to come back for welcome
I fear those sweet memory may deceive me again
That was hunting me and remained concern main
I must do something before they are erased
I must synchronize the events before being chased
I have missed so much and that has to remembered now
I do not know when that can be done and how
The best way is to write them down on plane paper and compile
That may last long and purpose can be served for a while
I am in doubt whether I will be able to give justice
How such things can be put in words to look nice?
Each feeling has got different lines to be shown
They should not be misrepresented and disproportionately blown
The rainbow represents all colors to speak about nature
All deep and light colors highlight ups and down of future
Sometimes blessed with happiness and sometimes sadness
Yet as symbolic way of putting facts they speak of oneness
How many might have perished under loads of heavy odd
They might have just tolerated it without much to add
They may be less fortunate enough to have different tale
They might have be consummated by timely cycle of whale
I do feel about the real tragedy and its consequences
I might have come across many of such instances
Some may find hardly any mention with lots of fear
Lot many deaths might have gripped us to be lost as dear and near
I may still try to memorize and give the justice
I must live to expectations and to the promises
I know by gone will never be remembered
I am now on work for those ideas to be centered
I will offer peace with white color
Sadness and pain can go little darker
Happiness and joy can be with olive green
All my past life than can be seen as evergreen
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Teleprompted Speeches
Teleprompted speeches
Prepared to deliver daily hype,
From those caught up in worshipping
The onslaught of their own dysfunctions!
And explanations are crafted.
Repeating disbelief,
In an accepted way as to not project
Total ignorance of the subject!
And lack of interest!
Direct eye contact is preferred.
There is something about it that can be trusted!
However...
So many are skilled at deception these days.
Watching one's brow furrowed...
Shows more frustration than truth is inside that head!
This hype keeps them up at night,
Hoping an obvious loss of credibility...
Will magically appear through presence and stature.
And all of this preparation is an act to deceive.
That's why they can not find peace in sleep!
The comfort of keeping their delusions scrolled.
Line after line defining times of crimes and corruption.
Hoping such methods will ease the shock that comes...
To those already numbed by marathoned appearances,
Of crooks protecting themselves!
And imaging leadership qualifications in expensive suits!
Duping hoodwinkers have one pursuit in their minds.
And that's to have you find them,
Worthy to represent...
Myths and beliefs that do not exist.
However,
The delusion to keep them as a process
Of a quality of life sustained in total fantasy...
And founded on criminal values,
Will maintain a christian charade.
And if these hypocrisies are attack...
At least the one who is elected,
Has to convince he or she has the experience
To lie brilliantly under pressure!
But the one not prompted to be perceived as packaged...
Should be selected.
However,
His competence and fantasticness overwhelms.
And they are not accustomed to that at all.
In fact that kind of commitment frightens them.
Nothing had they seen like this before.
Someone they can believe in comes.
And they are suspicious.
The others ready to perform their tricks...
Will lie in a minute.
Claiming what is seen on videotaped playbacks,
Has been misunderstood!
And this is what the people misrepresented,
Have been saying all along.
They have been misunderstood!
Teleprompted speeches will never reflect sorrows,
Or the patience they have had to endure...
Observing the costs of these self serving acts!
Written by folks so completely out of touch.
And so far removed from reality.
And so far removed from reality.
And so far removed from reality.
And so far...
It doesn't pay to practice.
There will still be malfunctions.
And no time to memorize which lies to tell!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Front Row
do you go to the dungeon to find out how to make peace with your days in the dungeon writing a letter
to you didn't make me feel any more peaceful then how I felt when we weren't speaking because I
didn't cop to what I did. I can't love you because we're supposed to have professional boundaries. i'd
like you to be schooled and in awe as though you were kissed by god full on the lips . i'm in the front
row the front row with popcorn I get to see you see you close up i'm too tired to recount the
unpleasantries one by one one minute I want to banish you the next I want to be on
a deserted island with you along with my three favorite cd's ambivalent yet in your
bed we've yet to acknowledge what really happened
slid into the ditch I have this overwhelming loss of ambition we said let's name thirty good reasons why
we shouldn't be together I started by saying things like "you smoke" "you live in new jersey (too far)"
you started saying things like "you belong to the world" all of which could have been easily
refuted but the conversation was hypothetical I am totally short of breath for you why can't you shut
your stuff off..... i'm in the front row the front row with popcorn I get to see you see you close up
and I laughed until my lungs hurt I love how you bust my chops you don't always
feel seen sometimes you feel erasable unfortunately I cannot reciprocate in my
current state I think we should be careful of how much time we spend together
........for a while i'm speaking you know how much you hate to be interrupted maybe spend some
time alone to fill up your proverbial cup so that it doesn't always have to be about you i've been wanting
your undivided attention I like the fact that you're nothing like me are you not burdened by the lack of
perspective people have of your charmed life i'm in the front row the front row with
popcorn I get to see you see you close up you never meant to be ungrateful nor held up to
be whipped or wept for certainly not analysed prodded at more ways than one
apparently you've been misrepresented dealing with the concept of arrows being
slung towards your outrageous fortune
hey i'm not mad at you guardian i'm mad at myself for spending so much time with you and your
jeckyl and hydeness i'm glad i figuratively slapped you on the wrist you laughed a wicked laugh
and said "come here let me clip your wings!"(i know he's blood but you can still turn him away you
don't owe him anything) "raise the roof" he yelled "yeah raise the roof!" I yelled back. (unfortunately
you needed a health scare to reprioritize.) no thanks to the soap box. having me rile against them
won't make an ounce of difference...... i'm in the front row the front row with popcorn. I get to see
you see you close up oh the things i've done for you many a sitch a friend a man's
been left for you oh the books i've read for you the tongues i've bitten for you many
a new city for you many a risk taken for you (not a single regret)
song performed by by Alanis Morissette from Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Moment of Youth Mantra
I am superstition like a black cat walking over cracked pavement and discarded four-leaf clovers under a ladder. There's a hat on my bed, another thing gone missing from my head.
Like a Jackson Pollack in white-lined notebook pages my words splatter
As if it didn't matter if they rhymed.
Or if the sounds and measure don't measure up to the beat you wanted to march to in that other guys eardrums. I can see my self clearer through shards of broken mirror
cuz I collect bad karma and save it for a hot sunny day just to cool off and stop sweating the small stuff
i think i've had enough, but whats one more? Here's to a world on fire and a frozen core.
I'm bad luck like an opened umbrella in the living room, i'm just dying to see what happens.
I wouldn't mind a little curse like the black cat in the last verse because the last seven years really bored me, a torturous fortune may relieve me, or at least grasp my attention.
I'm thinkin Everlasting truth is pretty sweet like a gobstopper and everlasting youth is always fleeting and unattainable like a shared vision. but we can still at least share our dreams with other numbered sheep while they creep through your doors and come in like Morrison, articulate yet dissociative, shed the asterisks and we'll associate ourselves with youthful slang like pound signs and ampersands, and we might get pounded, but even if they have the guns we still have those numbers and we're taking over like my favorite song bleeding through the radio as im speeding by a cop at 90 miles an hour on a deserted road in a deserted town and he doesn't notice because i don't want to be seen right now
I just need to be heard
I am solitude like solitary confinement, confined to a prison of my mind
Undoubtedly uncertain about the underlying factors of my cathartic lethargy. and my endless energy when head hits pillow and lingering languor when the wandering soles of my shoes touch the earth. the sun embraces another full rotation with unwavering indifference to the new day. Alone in a crowd gathered to show solidarity I salute to the flag I can't stand for, but stand under, in solitude. Summoned by summer to become one unified under the setting sun bringing the day to a brilliant and bloody end behind open eyes and closed doors. doorbells of perception ringing freedom in our forefathers ears. hoping that the hand on the other side isn't clenched in a fist like that last time. but it wouldn't be the first time.
I am revolution like the sun in orbit, circling my brain like a vulture. my insides turned out but held together by the centrifugal motion of my mind, going around and coming back around like a law, like a revolving door, back to the start of the circle. that which has no beginning or end, no corners or splits along the path. I am revolution like a revolver, revolt for the cause not against the stigma of standing stagnant, not against myself but with myself, for myself, not by myself but by my side, and by my brothers side do i spark revolution. revolting like a open wound my blood has been shed on my front step, the front lines lie in my front yard, my world is under siege and my rebel brothers and sisters await the resolution of evolution beyond revolution and absolution, and my constitution is strong, my will will endure. our will must endure.
I am youth, I am ideals at a time when the mind first develops the ability to develop ideals.
Every song speaks directly to me, about me. Every poem, every line invokes thoughts, promotes the ideals i have become. The worthy and unworthy. the meek shall inherit the mire man made, multiplied by multiplex motifs. moved by momentary matters, mindful of mundane madness. Marinated in the muck and molasses of monotonous malaise. Martyrs of mothers' misguided masochism. mirror images of moments past. Many miss the mark, misrepresented and misunderstood. Myopia materializes memories of mistakes made on mystic Monday mornings, malnourished and mutilated. Motivated by motionless morbidity. Moved by mortality, maneuvered and made moot. Passed over individually by those seeking to maintain the masses. Misinformed by massive media moguls and micromanaging missionaries. A myriad of mighty militant misfits, a million minutemen march on Metropolis. Masters of the meek must abdicate the authority, yield to the majority. I am multitudes of metaphors like a simile smiling smelling of sensimillia. Forgone conclusions, forgotten solutions, chosen paths laid by best intentions yet preventing invention, intervening introspection. Limitless options reduce limitations, increase expectations, subdue elevation. I am youth, thoughtful and distraught, spritely and tender, fearless and flag-less, no will to surrender.
poem by Les Wordsmore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Amazing Grace
'Live, live with me, and thou shalt see
The pleasures I'll prepare for thee:
What sweets the country can afford
Shall bless thy bed, and bless thy board.'
So Robert Herrick's poetry
has written yet his words may be
as nought compared to all that's poured
in soul-song here for my adored.
'Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dale and field,
Or woods or steepy mountain yield.' -
Though Marlowe's maid as hand and glove
swain fain would fit her heart to move,
his verse is but an empty shield
compared to all I'd have revealed.
'But Time drives flocks from field to fold;
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.'
Thus Walter Raleigh mocks, shortsold,
the love whose span cannot be told
no empty write I'd write, hymn's hum -
no strings save mandolin to strum.
'For thee, thou need'st no such deceit,
For thou thyself art thine own bait,
That fish, that is not catched thereby,
Alas, is wiser far than I.'
John Donne declaimed - admire his feat -
as none could e'er exaggerate
your angel wings, your beauty's eye,
your heart whose depth none chart, your sigh!
'Care on thy maiden brow shall put
A wreath of wrinkles, and thy foot
Be shod with pain: not silken dress
But toil shall tire thy loveliness.'
Day-Lewis says, - bride's white turns soot
with high ideals crushed underfoot -
yet my heart feel the years' duress
must only add to happiness.
'Come, live with us and be our cook,
And we will all the whimsies brook
That German, Irish, Swede, and Slav
And all the dear domestics have.'
Says F.P.A. - beyond my book
such verse appears, no second look
I'd grant to others where your light
leads ever onwards, seeds delight.
'Until at last we’ve squandered all,
shot the wad and maxed the cards,
until we’ve quaffed till dawns appall
and hoarse are velvet-throated bards.'
Thus tricked as Benedict would call
may suit for clubs' mascara fards,
for shattered mirrors' shivered shards, -
but I for you no trumps could call.
'That there was ought at all uncommon
In what each felt as man and woman -
If this our case, if this our story,
Shall we, at the worst, be sorry? '
Thus Babette Deutsch may sing - a common
complaint where maids abused by come on
as pawns are treated - care and worry
for you unknown shall be, dear glory!
'And she, by passion once demented,
- That woman out of Botticelli –
She brews and bottles, unfermented,
The stupid and abiding jelly.'
de Vries may state - a state repented
by those led on by greed or belly,
advantages misrepresented,
celebrities as seen on telly.
Should that reflect our daily 'lark
with weekly walk in Central Park.
till one of these days not too remote
you’ll probably up and cut my throat.' -
I quote Nash, - Ogden's - bite and bark
an choice to which I'd never hark.
You are my suit, my hat, my coat,
emotions' motions, ocean's float.
'At Claridge thou shalt duckling eat,
Sip vintages both dry and sweet,
And squeeze between enchanting lips
Asparagus with buttered tips.'
This Katzin may suggest as treat!
For you each day dark Fate I'd cheat -
though other blooms from stem death strips -
you, peerless rose, Time won't eclipse.
'I love thy bright and hazel glance,
The mellow lute upon those lips,
Whose tender, tender tones entrance'
Says Thomas Hood who swaying hips
it seems escapes, or leaves to chance.
One magic touch - your fingertips -
encourage me to plea advance.
'Oh come, my love, and seek with me
A realm by grosser eye unseen,
Where fairy forms will welcome thee,
And dainty creatures hail thee queen.'
This is a cold reflection we -
though writ in Scribner's magazine,
pen unknown,19th. century -
could find together, far from spleen.
'Come vote for me and back my run,
And once this next election’s won,
For your int’rests I will slave,
Never acting like a knave.'
This Silverstein in story spun,
half serious and half in fun,
may preach - yet as as equal wave
farewell to cowards' surface brave.
Come live with me, my partner be,
and we will every contract make
that tricky opportunity
presents in life of bid and (s) take.
You moon, I sun, eternity
will round each other spin, ne'er shake, -
alliance through equality
that none may question, none mistake.
Trumps we shall call, my Queen of hearts,
diamonds divine declare clean breast.
We’ll not proceed by fits and starts,
but lead from strength, ne’er second best!
No clubs will e'er disturb your rest,
no spades will darken Cupid's darts,
your breast is my mount Everest,
your whole is greater than my parts.
With points imperial we’ll show
the world we make a perfect match,
we’ll club together till Time’s flow
will slam the door and bolt the latch
on others too unskilled to grow
together come what weather, catch
disease of boredom, envy, know
not joys eternal we may hatch.
Let thus united be displayed
our souls upon life’s table baize,
always to call a spade a spade,
while psyching with a silent gaze.
Amazing grace, hopes never greyed,
unquantified shared trust which stays
as constant, tender, unafraid,
from better reach to red letter days.
Rewards, not risks and penalties,
we’ll surely reap - who’ll never err, -
above the line we’ll score with ease
to win life’s cup without a slur.
For you time rhymes sublime to please,
fulfillment through life's struggle-stir,
symbiotic complementarities
no empty phrase, praise-phase transfer.
This Valentine could verses add
till time turns tail and tale returns
upon itself through cycles glad
to demonstrate no other earns
love evergreen - no passing fad -
as yin through yang threads joy which yearns
to share and ne'er beware, be sad, -
as understanding more discerns.
We spin from cradle to the grave,
from love prenuptial onward heading
seemingly simple, from close shave,
from puberty to diamond wedding,
inviting all, compose, Time brave,
nor rash, nor brash,
it should transpire to verse conclave
convinced these stanzas' worth's worth spreading.
Remedial action we should take,
each remnant of resistance fling,
articulate shared feelings, make
from letters moving tune to sing
love's praises, phases, no mistake -
each mundane article may bring
true inspiration, stock life's lake
with thinklings fished by lines which swing.
Thus if what's writ be deemed enough
as introduction, invitation,
as shape of christmas stocking stuff
to fill until this dedication
attracts applause which off the cuff
emits approval, celebration,
then share with me through smooth and rough,
throughout lifelong collaboration.
Throughout life’s game we’ll not revoke,
but future points provoke with skill,
though now and then a psychic joke
helps spin time's wheel that’s never still.
Where others slurp their rum and coke
we'll grow together, hopes fulfill
where others fade as passing smoke,
we will combine both worth and will.
We’ll bridge our differences and
send signals which are never crossed,
ne’er overlook another’s hand
keep insight objectives lost
by those who love can't understand,
by those who later count the cost,
by those who colors on demand
display to mask their hidden frost.
If these delights your heart may move
to partner me through life’s long gambol,
then live with me and be my Love, -
I bid you, without long preamble
lend but one wing to turtle dove
may I the other add, no gamble
is this but bliss which must improve
as time spells rhyme love may unscramble.
Should all above still not suffice,
I'll add what hope's anticipation
inscribed last week - if you as ice
remain let pain dissolve, elation
our train of life tracks in a trice
departing from uncertain station
to dance on air as we twin, splice
and spice each day with fresh sensation...
Come dance with me and find release,
team into dreams, with wild wolves run,
no nightmares stalk where heart finds peace.
A stellar future crowned with fun
shall gather as harvest increase
we reap together, story spun
from morn to night as worries cease,
while one and one at last make one.
Come dance, we’ll circumnavigate
the seven seas as zephyr’s breeze
anticipates and may translate
past cares to luck which soul strings frees.
Harp, Terpsichore shall play as Fate
unwinds past phantom_mime banshees,
life’s letter stamps ‘reciprocate’
creating fresh realities.
Come dance, unlearn life’s kernel woe
owe only to your inner voice
as chivalry and honour flow -
no need to justify heart’s choice.
Slow motion – Time stood still – will throw
away wait’s weights as two rejoice
in unexpected overthrow
of anchors as trim sails are hoist.
Come dance, advance, no strings attached –
except of harp or violin -
devotion, eloquence unmatched,
shall shed all lies of ties that sin.
Thus inner doors may be unlatched,
contradictions’ caves cave in
Embrace new wave which saves unscratched
soul saved from hibernation’s bin.
Come dance, step clear, endearing smile
will echo caring, sharing, joy,
while dream’s theme reel will reconcile
to trust in real, no wiles employ.
Tiara crowned Princess no guile
may meet who, sweet, greets verse employ
as an expression timed to dial
away Time’s hands all else destroy.
Come dance with me, no judgment blind
will claim, will, blame, will shame, reject, -
all icicles soon left behind
Spring’s robin sings you’re soul elect.
From past which could be less unkind
we’ll destination fly direct
where all but lines are underlined,
no need for conduct circumspect.
Come dance, together we’ll unlearn
the past’s mistakes, to future fair
to promised land hand, hand, will turn
with light and laughter everywhere.
The seasons slip by, none return,
yet bird’s song echoes, in your hair
may make its nest, chirp soft, not spurn,
and answer questions pondered there.
Come dance with me, I’ll hold you tight,
in tenderness which knows no bounds,
restoring hidden wings for flight
tears soon shall cease, – for fears no grounds.
Here magic, comfort, and respite,
there melody received resounds,
acceptance and contentment quite
unmeasured pleasure ache impounds.
Come dance with me, and we will learn
what makes lips tingle, goose-bumps rise,
what makes spine shiver, plush blush burn, -
each day shall herald warmsurprise.
Eyes Isis envies will discern
from blue to you each spark that flies,
as touch, from glitter fairy’s fern
may guide, not steer, still share concern.
Come dance, my dear, I’ll always keep,
my word - a promise from my heart -
integrity runs very deep,
each part of each need never part.
Thus whether way is slope or steep
until Earth’s end – which sings fresh start –
alert I’d watch awake, asleep,
protecting dreams from sudden start.
Come dance, from trap or golden cage,
forever free to spread your wings
in harmony which knows nor rage,
nor stings nor slaps, - where spirit sings
in ecstasy as, turning page,
we’ll Autumn sage and Summer’s swings
unite as, taking center stage,
Spring warmth from Winter’s tumult springs.
Come dance, your silent grace shall show
how one above, below, unique
shines out, from shadows free, whose glow
pre-empts necessity to speak.
From yesterdays the future’s flow
shall still remember tender cheek,
yet turn towards joy’s overflow,
life liberate from sadness, pique.
Come dance to tune which wounded heart
returns to health and inspiration
we’ll reel, we’ll heal, real hopes may chart
beyond old altar’s altercation.
Past struggles’ tide and tears depart
as sun and moon anticipation
eliminate invasive dart,
while welcoming emancipation.
Come dance with me, we’ll share the key
that opens inspiration’s portal
uncover wellspring’s latency -
spirit infinite, immortal, -
find answers to eternity
withheld from passing shadow mortal
as soul’s connection as one we
establish, spurn deceptions’ maw well.
Come dance with me, I’ve said before, _
who twice ten thousand lines could add, -
and here repeat for one time more
ambition plain: to turn sad glad.
If this sweet song your pleasure move
this greeting was inscribed Above,
all let and hindrance swift remove –
come live with me and be my love …
(c) Jonathan Robin revised version 16 July 2007
PLEASE SEE NOTES BELOW
___________________
Responsa in order of appearance of quotations cited in the poem above:
Come Live with Me and Be My Love
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
Or woods or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kittle
Embroider’d all with leaves of myrtle,
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull.
Fair-lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.
A belt of straw and ivy-buds
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my love.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each My morning,
If these delights thy mind may move,
then live with me and be my love.
Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
-----
Come Live with Me - The Nymph's Reply
If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy Love.
But Time drives flocks from field to fold;
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward Winter reckoning yields:
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither-soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs, -
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy Love.
But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy Love.
Sir Walter RALEIGH 1552_1618
_______________________
The Bait
Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines, and silver hooks.
There will the river whispering run
Warmed by thy eyes, more than the sun.
And there th'enamoured fish will stay,
Begging themselves they may betray.
When thou wilt swim in that live bath,
Each fish, which every channel hath,
Will amorously to thee swim,
Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.
If thou, to be so seen, be'st loth,
By sun, or moon, thou darkenest both,
And if myself have leave to see,
I need not their light, having thee.
Let others freeze with angling reeds,
And cut their legs, with shells and weeds,
Or treacherously poor fish beset,
With strangling snare, or windowy net:
Let coarse bold hands, from slimy nest
The bedded fish in banks out-wrest,
Or curious traitors, sleave silk flies
Bewitch poor fishes' wandering eyes.
For thee, thou need'st no such deceit,
For thou thyself art thine own bait,
That fish, that is not catched thereby,
Alas, is wiser far than I.
John DONNE 1572_1631
________________________
The Shepherd to his Fair One
TO PHILLIS, TO LOVE AND LIVE WITH HIM
Live, live with me, and thou shalt see
The pleasures I'll prepare for thee:
What sweets the country can afford
Shall bless thy bed, and bless thy board.
The soft sweet moss shall be thy bed,
With crawling woodbine over-spread:
By which the silver-shedding streams
Shall gently melt thee into dreams.
Thy clothing next, shall be a gown
Made of the fleeces' purest down.
The tongues of kids shall be thy meat;
Their milk thy drink; and thou shalt eat
The paste of filberts for thy bread
With cream of cowslips buttered:
Thy feasting-table shall be hills
With daisies spread, and daffadils;
Where thou shalt sit, and Red-breast by,
For meat, shall give thee melody.
I'll give thee chains and carcanets
Of primroses and violets.
A bag and bottle thou shalt have,
That richly wrought, and this as brave;
So that as either shall express
The wearer's no mean shepherdess.
At shearing-times, and yearly wakes,
When Themilis his pastime makes,
There thou shalt be; and be the wit,
Nay more, the feast, and grace of it.
On holydays, when virgins meet
To dance the heys with nimble feet,
Thou shalt come forth, and then appear
The Queen of Roses for that year.
And having danced ('bove all the best)
Carry the garland from the rest,
In wicker-baskets maids shall bring
To thee, my dearest shepherdling,
The blushing apple, bashful pear,
And shame-faced plum, all simp'ring there.
Walk in the groves, and thou shalt find
The name of Phillis in the rind
Of every straight and smooth-skin tree;
Where kissing that, I'll twice kiss thee.
To thee a sheep-hook I will send,
Be-prank'd with ribbands, to this end,
This, this alluring hook might be
Less for to catch a sheep, than me.
Thou shalt have possets, wassails fine,
Not made of ale, but spiced wine;
To make thy maids and self free mirth,
All sitting near the glitt'ring hearth.
Thou shalt have ribbands, roses, rings,
Gloves, garters, stockings, shoes, and strings
Of winning colours, that shall move
Others to lust, but me to love. -
These, nay, and more, thine own shall be,
If thou wilt love, and live with me.
Robert HERRICK 1591_1674
_________________
Come Live with Me and Be my Love
_________________
Come, live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
Of peace and plenty, bed and board,
That chance employment may afford.
I’ll handle dainties on the docks
And thou shalt read of summer frocks:
At evening by the sour canals
We’ll hope to hear some madrigals.
Care on thy maiden brow shall put
A wreath of wrinkles, and thy foot
Be shod with pain: not silken derss
But toil shall tire thy loveliness.
Hunger shall make thy modest zone
And cheat fond death of all but bone –
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.
Cecil Day LEWIS 1904_1972
________________
The Passionate Householder to his Love
Come, live with us and be our cook,
And we will all the whimsies brook
That German, Irish, Swede, and Slav
And all the dear domestics have.
And you shall sit upon the stoop
What time we go and cook the soup,
And you shall hear, both night and day,
Melodious pianolas play.
And we will make the beds, of course,
You'll have two autos and a horse,
A lady to Marcel your tresses,
And all the madame's half-worn dresses.
Your gowns shall be of lace and silk,
Your laving shall be done in milk.
Two trained physicians when you cough,
And Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays off.
When you are mashing Irish spuds
You'll wear the very finest duds.
If good to you these prospects look,
Come, live with us and be our cook.
On callers we have put no stops,
We love the iceman and the cops,
And no alarm clock with its ticks
And bell to ring at half-past six.
O Gretchen, Bridget, Hulda, Mary,
Come, be our genius culinary.
If good to you these prospects look,
Come, live with us and be our cook.
Franklin Pierce ADAMS
__________
Atlantic City Idyll
Come bet with me and be my luck
and bring me gimlets tart with lime.
We’ll chase the wily holy buck
and toss the dice and sneer at time.
And we will dazzle in our clothes
and neon dazzle us as well.
We’ll strike a sleek and moneyed pose,
we’ll yell a blithe, ecstatic yell
until at last we’ve squandered all,
shot the wad and maxed the cards,
until we’ve quaffed till dawns appall
and hoarse are velvet-throated bards.
Come stroll with me and be my muse
of feckless hope and vain desire.
On the boardwalk the huckster woos
and Armless Annie tongues her lyre.
Kate BENEDICT - Come bet with me and be my luck
_________________
The Dispassionate Shepherdess
Do not live with me, do not be my love.
And yet I think we may some pleasures prove
That who enjoy each other, in the haste
Of their most inward kissing, seldom taste.
Being absent from me, you shall still delay
To come to me, and if another day,
No matter, so your greeting burn as though
The words had all the while been picked in snow.
No other gift you'll offer me but such
As I can neither wear, nor smell, nor touch -
No flowers breathing of evening, and no stones
Whose chilly fire outlasts our skeletons.
You'll give me once a thought that stings, and once
A look to make my blood doubt that it runs.
You'll give me rough and sharp perplexities,
And never, never will you give me ease.
For one another's blessing not designed,
Marked for possession only of the mind,
And soon, because such cherishing is brief,
To ask whereon was founded our belief.
That there was anything at all uncommon
In what each felt for each as man and woman -
If this then be our case, if this our story,
Shall we rail at heaven? Shall we, at the worst, be sorry?
Heaven's too deaf, we should grow hoarse with railing,
And sorrow never quickened what was failing.
But if you think we thus may pleasures prove,
Do not live with me, do not be my love.
DEUTSCH Babette 1895_1982 – Parody Christopher MARLOWE
__________________
Bacchanal
“Come live with me and be my love, ”
He said, in substance. “There’s no vine
We will not pluck the clusters of,
Or grape we will not turn to wine.”
It’s autumn of their second year.
Now he, in seasonal pursuit,
With rich and modulated cheer,
Brings home the festive purple fruit;
And she, by passion once demented,
- That woman out of Botticelli –
She brews and bottles, unfermented,
The stupid and abiding jelly.
Peter de VRIES 1910_19?
______________________
Love under the Republicans (or Democrats)
Come live with me and be my love
And we will all the pleasures prove
Of a marriage conducted with economy
In the Twentieth Century Anno Donomy.
We’ll live in a dear little walk-up flat
With practically room to swing a cat
And a potted cactus to give it hauteur
And a bathtub equipped with dark brown water.
We’ll eat, without undue discouragement,
Foods low in cost but high in nouragement
And quaff with pleasure, while chatting wittily,
The peculiar wine of Little Italy.
We’ll remind each other it’s smart to be thrifty
And buy our clothes for something-fifty.
We’ll bus for miles on holidays
For seas at depressing matinees,
And every Sunday we’ll have a lark
And take a walk in Central Park.
And one of these days not too remote
You’ll probably up and cut my throat.
Ogden NASH 1902_1971 - Verses from 1929 On
__________________________
The Passionate Profiteer to His Love
Come feed with me and be my love,
And pleasures of the table prove,
Where Prunier and The Ivy yield
Choice dainties of the stream and field.
At Claridge thou shalt duckling eat,
Sip vintages both dry and sweet,
And thou shalt squeeze between thy lips
Asparagus with buttered tips.
On caviare my love shall graze,
And plump on salmon mayonnaise,
And browse at Scott’s beside thy swain
On lobster Newburg with champagne.
Between hors d’oeuvres and canapés
I’ll feast thee on poularde soufflé And every day within thy reach
Pile melon, nectarine and peach.
Come share at the Savoy with me
The menu of austerity;
If in these pastures thou wouldst rove
Then feed with me and be my love.
Olga Katzin Miller - « Sagittarius » Targets 1942
______________________
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
I love thee - I love thee!
'Tis all that I can say;
It is my vision in the night,
My dreaming in the day;
The very echo of my heart,
The blessing when I pray:
I love thee - I love thee!
Is all that I can say.
I love thee - I love thee!
Is ever on my tongue;
In all my proudest poesy
That chorus still is sung;
It is the verdict of my eyes,
Amidst the gay and young:
I love thee - I love thee!
A thousand maids among.
I love thee - I love thee!
Thy bright and hazel glance,
The mellow lute upon those lips,
Whose tender tones entrance;
But most, dear heart of hearts, thy proofs
That still these words enhance.
I love thee - I love thee!
Whatever be thy chance.
Thomas Hood
Parody Christopher MARLOWE - Come Live With Me and be My Love
___________
A Microscopic Serenade
« Oh come, my love, and seek with me
A realm by grosser eye unseen,
Where fairy forms will welcome thee,
And dainty creatures hail thee queen.
In silent pools the tube I’ll ply,
Where green conferva-threads lie curled,
And proudly bring to thy bright eye
The trophies of the protist world.
We’ll rouse the stentor from his lair,
And gaze into the cyclops ’ eye;
In chara and nitella hair
The protoplasmic stream descry,
For ever weaving to and fro
With faint molecular melody,
And curious rotifers I’ll show,
And graceful vorticellidae.
Where melicertae ply their craft
We’ll watch the playful water-bear,
And no envenomed hydra’s shaft
Shall mar our peaceful pleasure there;
But while we whisper love’ssweettale
We’ll trace, with sympathetic cart,
Within the embryonic snail
The growing rudimental heart.
Where rolls the volvox sphere of green,
And plastids move in Brownian dance -
If, wandering ‘mid that gentle scene,
Two fond amoebae shall perchance
Be changed to one beneath our sight
By process of biocrasis,
We’ll recognise, with rare delight,
A type of our prospective bliss.
Or dearer thou by far to me
In thy sweet maidenly estate
Than any seventy-fifth could be,
Of aperture however great!
Come, go with me and we will stray
Through realm by grosser eye unseen,
Where protophytes shall homage pay,
And protozoa hail thee queen. »
“Jacob HENRICI” Scribners November 1879
________________
A Passionate Congressman To His Constituents
Come vote for me and back my run,
And once this next election’s won,
For your int’rests I will slave,
Never acting like a knave.
I’ll balance ev’ry yearly budget,
And never, never, never fudge it;
I’ll keep a tight lid on your taxes,
Even as your income waxes.
I’ll get you medicine for free,
Protect social security;
For your pet peeves I’ll play the cupid,
No matter how inane or stupid.
When terrorists cause nasty shocks,
I’ll hunt them down and punch their clocks;
Bad CEOs will feel my wrath;
Until they learn an honest math.
Your special needs I won’t forget,
Be you soccer mom or vet;
And woe to those who soft drugs peddle,
Unless that’s you, then I won’t meddle.
My opponent’s ads are hokum,
All his promises he’s broken.
Believe me—you don’t want that bum;
So vote for me and back my run.
Michael Silverstein
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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