Perhaps the only misplaced curiosity is that which persists in trying to find out here, on this side of death, what lies beyond the grave.
quote by Colette
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Perhaps the only misplaced curiosity is that which persists in trying to find out here, on this side of death, what lies beyond the grave.
quote by Sidonie Gabrielle Colette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hateful Hate
[ music: natalie merchant/words: natalie merchant ]
In the dark night a giant slumbered untouched for centuries
til awakened by a white mans cry: this is the eden I was to find.
There were lands to be charted and to be claimed for a crown,
When a hero was made by the length he could stay in this dangerous land of hateful hate.
Curiosity filled the heads of these, there was an upper room they had to see.
Curiosity killed the best of these for a heros hometown welcoming.
Still they moved on and on.
Who came building missions?
Unswerving men of the cloth who gave their lives in numbers untold so that black sheep entered the fold.
Captured like human livestock, destined for slavery.
Naked, walked to the shore where great ships moored for the hellbound journies.
Bought and sold with a hateful hate.
Curiosity filled the breasts of these with some strange ecstasy.
Curiosity killed the best of these by robbing their lives of dignity.
Still they moved on and on.
Calling men of adventure for a jungle bush safari.
Come conquer the, his claws and teeth.
See death in his eyes to know youre alive.
European homesteads grew up in the colonies with civilized plans for wild hinterlands, their guns and God willing.
Such a hateful hate.
Curiosity spilled the blood of these for their spotted skins and ivory.
Curiosity filled the heads of these madmen with the lies of destiny.
Curiosity spilled the blood of these, then blotted their lives from history.
Curiosity filled the heads of these, one man claimed all that he could see.
Curiosity still entices these madmen with a lusting and a greed.
Their legacy, legacy, legacy...
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Disingenuousness
Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.
Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:
Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!
Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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George and Sarah Green
WHO weeps for strangers? Many wept
For George and Sarah Green;
Wept for that pair's unhappy fate,
Whose grave may here be seen.
By night, upon these stormy fells,
Did wife and husband roam;
Six little ones at home had left,
And could not find that home.
For 'any' dwelling-place of man
As vainly did they seek.
He perish'd; and a voice was heard--
The widow's lonely shriek.
Not many steps, and she was left
A body without life--
A few short steps were the chain that bound
The husband to the wife.
Now do those sternly-featured hills
Look gently on this grave;
And quiet now are the depths of air,
As a sea without a wave.
But deeper lies the heart of peace
In quiet more profound;
The heart of quietness is here
Within this churchyard bound.
And from all agony of mind
It keeps them safe, and far
From fear and grief, and from all need
Of sun or guiding star.
O darkness of the grave! how deep,
After that living night--
That last and dreary living one
Of sorrow and affright?
O sacred marriage-bed of death,
That keeps them side by side
In bond of peace, in bond of love,
That may not be untied!
poem by William Wordsworth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Equipped To Fly
A bird with wings,
And equipped to fly...
Is seldom seen,
Trying to be convinced of it.
And why would a thoroughbred,
Choose to race with an average horse?
To rehearse the practicing of what?
A waste of misplaced curiosity?
If a thing is known and established,
To be that which it is...
What is the advantage,
Of not utilizing its benefits?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This autumn day
This autumn day, gossamer mist
lies low across the field kiss'd
by tiny glist'ning pearls cleaving
to tawny buckled blades weaving
amongst fawn thistles in their midst.
Beside this matted mound exists
a swath of grass on which persists
a green woodpecker hammering
this autumn day.
The stoic far cornered oak resists
the urge to shed into the mist
its glorious copper crowning,
shinning in the diffused rising
of the sun that stubbornly persists
this autumn day.
poem by Diana Rosser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eversleeping
Once I travelled 7 seas to find my love
And once I sang 700 songs
Well, maybe I still have to walk 7000 miles
Until I find the one that I belong
I will rest my head side by side
To the one that stays in the night
I will lose my breath in my last words of sorrow
And whatever comes will come soon
Dying I will pray to the moon
That there once will be a better tomorrow
Once I crossed 7 rivers to find my love
And once, for 7 years, I forgot my name
Well, if I have to I will die 7 deaths just to lie
In the arms of my eversleeping aim
I will rest my head side by side
To the one that stays in the night
I will lose my breath in my last words of sorrow
And whatever comes will come soon
Dying I will pray to the moon
That there once will be a better tomorrow (x2)
I dreamt last night that he came to me
He said: "My love, why do you cry?"
For now it won't be long any more
Until in my cold grave we will lie
Until in my cold grave we will lie
song performed by by Xandria
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eversleeping
Once I travelled 7 seas to find my love
And once I sang 700 songs
Well, maybe I still have to walk 7000 miles
Until I find the one that I belong
I will rest my head side by side
To the one that stays in the night
I will lose my breath in my last words of sorrow
And whatever comes will come soon
Dying I will pray to the moon
That there once will be a better tomorrow
Once I crossed 7 rivers to find my love
And once, for 7 years, I forgot my name
Well, if I have to I will die 7 deaths just to lie
In the arms of my eversleeping aim
I will rest my head side by side
To the one that stays in the night
I will lose my breath in my last words of sorrow
And whatever comes will come soon
Dying I will pray to the moon
That there once will be a better tomorrow (x2)
I dreamt last night that he came to me
He said: "My love, why do you cry?"
For now it won't be long any more
Until in my cold grave we will lie
Until in my cold grave we will lie
song performed by by Xandria
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lay His Sword By His Side
Lay his sword by his side -- it hath served him too well
Not to rest near his pillow below;
To the last moment true, from his hand ere it fell,
Its point was still turn'd to a flying foe.
Fellow-labourers in life, let them slumber in death,
Side by side, as becomes the reposing brave --
That sword which he loved still unbroke in its sheath,
And himself unsubdued in his grave.
Yet pause -- for, in fancy, a still voice I hear,
As if breathed from his brave heart's remains; --
Faint echo of that which, in Slavery's ear,
Once sounded the war-word, "Burst your chains."
And it cries, from the grave where the hero lies deep,
"Though the day of your Chieftain for ever hath set,
Oh leave not his sword thus inglorious to sleep --
It hath victory's life in it yet!
"Should some alien, unworthy such weapon to wield,
Dare to touch thee, my own gallant sword,
Then rest in thy sheath, like a talisman seal'd,
Or return to the grave of thy chainless lord.
But, if grasp'd by a hand that hath learn'd the proud use
Of a falchion, like thee, on the battle-plain,
Then, at Liberty's summons, like lightning let loose,
Leap forth from thy dark sheath again!"
poem by Thomas Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Children whose curiosity survives parental discipline and who manage to grow up before they blow up are invited to join the Yale faculty. Within the university they go on asking their questions and trying to find the answers ... it is a place where the world's hostility to curiosity can be defied.
quote by Edmund S. Morgan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Be Not Proud
Oh Death be not proud,
Oh Grave be not shallow
For out reaching your darkened hand
And refusing a boy, to become a man.
Oh grave I feel your sting
And Death I hear you sing
From the lives that you do take
From the lives, to you we gave.
Oh grave, be not proud
For taking the little child
For refusing them yet to grow,
Unto the Adults, they'll never know.
Death be not proud
For arriving as a thief
To break the heart and shatter the soul
To only fill it, with your grief.
Death be not proud
Grave be not victorious
Pain be not loud
Sorrow, be not continuous.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Curiosity in children, is but an appetite for knowledge. One great reason why children abandon themselves wholly to silly pursuits and trifle away their time insipidly is, because they find their curiosity balked, and their inquiries neglected.
quote by John Locke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Does Man Create His Gods?
Does man create his gods or do gods create themselves in likeness to man?
Was it not death that fist stirred in man a curiosity of his greater self?
Was it not death and knowing our loved ones and enemies to fall into the dust
That caused us to pray and pour libations in there honour?
Was it not the unknown that caused man in curiosity that would make
Alice proud, to ponder the shades of his intellect in an attempt to shed light
Upon a truth concealed within the looking glass ripples of fresh water springs?
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Boring
You don't need nothing
and I know that you won't even try
Don't wait for me to help you
it's too late for any of my advice
No trust
All I got is lies
Boring
all right
Misplaced your values
Forgot the importance of being right
don't sit there and act humble
I've heard your story a thousand times
No trust
All I got is lies
Boring
all right
song performed by by Blink 182 from Dude Ranch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Romeo
Romeo where does Juliet find her peace?
In somber halls that constitute her grave?
Though pure love between you and her can't cease,
Why should death be, what both of you would crave?
The dreams that die when hearts would stop to beat,
Might find some other nights where to exist,
Though might not be as grand as first was great,
Still lips would prove as sweet as one you've kissed;
Yet love can't learn to see when it is blind,
Lovers are bound in chains to its command,
The only one respite that they could find,
Is when in death that's meted by its hand;
.....Love, as love could be, in death or in life,
.....Is never free of the inherent strife.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm a misplaced American, but don't know where I was misplaced.
Misplaced
You say I stole your heart yet you provide no proof
I say you misplaced your heart and can't bare the truth
I've taken nothing from you
Nothing you own could satisfy my hunger
I feast on hearts of the younger
But you have none
Like I said you misplaced it
poem by Jeremy Rascon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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x15-I Saw My Death
-Jane Spencers-
My grave has kept away my secrets.
The leaves are greener, the grasses-taller.
I heard you talking to me
with your solemn tears...
you didn't have to say you're sorry
for taking away my cheers;
for taking away my lover...
for making it all over.
Coz it's not the reason why i died...
as this empty earth has always denied.
The petals had fallen, the waters had flowed...
leaves are greener, grasses standing on the ground.
I saw my death when I saw his face-
how it glowed when he looked at you deeply;
he looked at you the way he never did to me.
I saw my death when I saw his smile-
he smiled beyond his heart when
he smiled at you sweetly...
He smiled at you the way he never did to me.
I saw my death when he looked into my eyes,
and all i can see is my empty grave,
and all others are lies.
When he looked at me, but it's you he sees...
I never want to breath.
The day he said he loves you
was the day I saw my death.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The one who persists in asking question he learn the death of his Mother.
The Soldier's Grave
THERE'S a white stone placed upon yonder tomb,
Beneath is a soldier lying -
The death-wound came, amid sword and plume,
When banner and ball were flying.
Yet now he sleeps, the turf on his breast,
By wet wild flowers surrounded;
The church shadow falls o'er the place of his rest,
Where the steps of his childhood bounded.
There were tears, that fell from manly eyes,
There was woman's gentle weeping,
And the wailing of age and infant cries,
O'er the grave, where he lies sleeping.
He had left his home in his spirit's pride,
With his father's sword and blessing;
He stood with the valiant, side by side,
His country's wrongs redressing.
He came again, in the light of his fame,
When the red campaign was over;
One heart, that, in secret, had kept his name,
Was claimed by the soldier lover.
But the cloud of strife came upon the sky;-
He left his sweet home for battle;
Left his young child's lisp for the loud war-cry,
And the cannon's long death-rattle.
He came again - but an altered man:
The path of the grave was before him,
And the smile, that he wore, was cold and wan,
For the shadow of death hung o'er him.
He spoke of victory - spoke of cheer:-
These are the words, that are vainly spoken
To the childless mother, or orphan's ear,
Or the widow, whose heart is broken.
A helmet and sword are engraved on the stone,
Half hidden by yonder willow;
There he sleeps, whose death in battle was won,
But he died on his own home pillow.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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