But more wonderful than the lore of old men and the lore of books is the secret lore of ocean.
H.P. Lovecraft in The White Ship (1919)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Sons of Vulcan for Colin
The Smith strikes sparks with every blow.
He is a master of his trade
The inert metal seems to grow,
by magic it becomes a blade.
If myths and legends do not lie
I see no reason why they should.
Smiths are adept at wizardry
but use their magic lore for good,
Vulcan: Blacksmith to the Gods
passed on to smiths his secret lore.
Which has survived against the odds?
The smiths still use their magic for
creating artefacts by hand.
Their artistry still in demand.
22-Aug-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Night to Ponder
A Night to Ponder
By: Adam M. Snow
Alone I sat a night to ponder, in my chambers going yonder.
Alas! I pondered all is dreary, like the weeping reaper weary,
Like the ancient lore spoke unto me evermore,
Quoth a line, a verse from vital flame -
'A life to live, to live a dream' a secret to life, so it seems.
It is but that and nothing more, quoth the verse, the forgotten lore.
And so shall come the life's of some, alas! Mine shall be the dreadful: nevermore!
Alas! Mine shall be divine, echoes of sorrow reached across time for evermore.
It is but that and nothing more, quoth the verse, the forgotten lore.
Suddenly I came to remember the dawn of morning ember,
On a cold, cold November morn,
I rose from my chambers locked in shackles,
The feelings of betrayal, thoughts of hackles kept me sane.
I laughed and jest as I laid to rest,
Betrayed as the world could see.
I know of no reason why I darkened my season,
But it be sanctimonious, felonious my erroneous alone,
But I beseeched my demons, my own,
For melancholy is my one desire, cast out into a pit of fire.
To die and be reborn again and again,
Only to find myself dreaming of every sin.
But still I long for the forgotten lore,
A spoken truth now lies.
I pondered all the lore's of some, not knowing when the Dawn will come,
And so shall come the life's of some, alas! Mine shall be the dreadful: nevermore!
poem by Adam M. Snow
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No Price: Prize Fighter
He once bellowed I am the greatest from the ring.
In a musical titled “Buck White” he did sing.
And as much as he loved being boxing heavy weight champ and adored by all.
For no price would this prize fighter take a fall.
They wanted him to renounce his religion and pick up a gun.
But our champion said no to the war in Vietnam.
Now, although they stripped him of his title and all his funds;
He still stood tall and said I got no problem with any Viet-con.
All he had to do was to say yes to fighting exhibition matches for war;
And his problem would no more.
But there was no price for this great prize fighter.
For standing up for his beliefs and willing to give up all he had at that time Muhammad Ali will always be “The Greatest” to me.
-Lore
Magical Lore of the Sea
When the Moon arouse in the east,
And crimson skies streaked in west,
Sea glimmered in the evening starlight
And the sun sank in the deep blue twilight.
Evening Star shone from afar
And slowly the veil of light unfurled
Diamonds grew as clusters of star
And the wind hummed and chuckled.
The waves strewn and sea hewn
By a magical glow of the Moon,
The sea boomed and life it sewn,
With the cold reflections in gloom
And magical creatures danced and roamed
And plants bloomed upon moonlit mould
Deer ran helter-skelter as the lions roared
And a magical lore of the sea unfold.
Night after night as the time passed
A new life the Sea canvassed
Of warriors of old she portrayed one night
Who fought the foe and hailed a knight.
And once she revealed in her immense womb
Magical fishes and dolphins in the gloom
Sharks and whales plunging up and down
As the waves rolled with a grin and frown
A magical lore of the Sea unfold
As the Moonlight shines onto her
A magical lore of the Sea untold
Fades away as the Moon sinks into her.
poem by Ravenend Frost
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Every Flower Ain't got to be a Rose
Every flower ain’t got be a rose.
Every bird ain’t got to be a sparrow.
Every body of water ain’t got to be a ocean.
Every hill ain’t got be a mountain.
Every American ain’t got to be white.
For we are all created by one God.
And we are all part of His master plan.
That is why every flower ain’t got to be
a rose.
The Bronze-Wing Pigeon
They say I am a shy, wild thing,
That seeks the wild bush glade.
Quick to be gone on whirring wing,
Where stangers would invade;
But well I know what all birds know:
The voice of friend, the tread of foe;
And deem it wise to fear the worst
Till I have knowledge of the first.
Afar my muffled drumming sounds,
Where tangled dogwood grows;
But when you tread my feeding grounds
I am alert for foes.
A flash of iridescent wing,
And I am but a vanished thing.
Gone to be heard and seen no more,
In spite of all your forest lore.
But should you win me in the end
By dint of kindlier lore,
Gladly I take you for a friend,
And to your own house door
I come with confidence complete
To quest my food about your feet.
And, with a gravely gentle air,
Display my shy bronze beauty there.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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All theological lore is becoming distasteful to me.
quote by Wilfred Owen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweethearts Wait on Every Shore
SHE SITS beside the tinted tide,
That’s reddened by the tortured sand;
And through the East, to ocean wide,
A vessel sails from sight of land.
But she will wait and watch in vain,
For it is said in Cupid’s lore,
“That he who loved will love again,
And sweethearts wait on every shore.”
poem by Henry Lawson
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In an area where nothing was known, medicine had to draw on social lore.
quote by Virginia Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mighty Are The Meek
All ye courageous souls,
Living amongst the meek!
Step forth to the front line,
Enter the battle, join the fray.
For the dawn of battle is nigh!
Let not the enemy drag you down!
For you stand not just for thyself alone,
But also for the flickering souls!
Stand tall, on guard, hold the line!
Let thy battle lore strike fear,
In the heart of thy nemesis.
Let the Earth beneath thy feet
Join thee in thy lore!
Break the holds of fear and strife,
Step forth, advance, march on,
Stop not till thy enemy is defeated.
Stop not till thy goal is reached.
But bear forth in thy heart,
Mercy and compassion.
For devoid of them,
Thou art nothing but a mere beast.
poem by Vivian Thompson
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Ballade Of The Bookworm
Far in the Past I peer, and see
A Child upon the Nursery floor,
A Child with books upon his knee,
Who asks, like Oliver, for more!
The number of his years is IV,
And yet in Letters hath he skill,
How deep he dives in Fairy-lore!
The Books I loved, I love them still!
One gift the Fairies gave me: (Three
They commonly bestowed of yore)
The Love of Books, the Golden Key
That opens the Enchanted Door;
Behind it BLUEBEARD lurks, and o'er
And o'er doth JACK his Giants kill,
And there is all ALADDIN'S store, -
The Books I loved, I love them still!
Take all, but leave my Books to me!
These heavy creels of old we bore
We fill not now, nor wander free,
Nor wear the heart that once we wore;
Not now each River seems to pour
His waters from the Muses' hill;
Though something's gone from stream and shore,
The Books I loved, I love them still!
ENVOY.
Fate, that art Queen by shore and sea,
We bow submissive to thy will,
Ah grant, by some benign decree,
The Books I loved--to love them still.
poem by Andrew Lang
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A Serenade
'Sas agapo sas agapo,'
He sang beneath her lattice.
''Sas agapo'?' she murmured-'O,
I wonder, now, what _that_ is!'
Was she less fair that she did bear
So light a load of knowledge?
Are loving looks got out of books,
Or kisses taught in college?
Of woman's lore give me no more
Than how to love,-in many
A tongue men brawl: she speaks them all
Who says 'I love,' in any.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Ask About Me
If the day comes
where you don't see me
for awhile....
Ask about me?
If there comes a day
when I look depress
once again....
Ask about me?
If there comes a time
where I seem over joyed
you know what to do.....
Ask about me?
If you should see me
or not. Make me feel
like I matter.......
Ask about me?
Ask about me?
Please, , , ,
Ask About Me?
Lore II
The bush is due to be cut down,
Because i want a way through it to meet your love;
And like the truth and the rights of Lore my neighbour.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Post-Graduate
Hope it was that tutored me,
And Love that taught me more;
And now I learn at Sorrow's knee
The self-same lore.
poem by Dorothy Parker
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The afterthought
The afterthought
~
The poetry section in the library, an afterthought
A little over fifteen books thrown onto a shelf
Amongst books of quotations and how to write
Books about books and sporting anecdotes
It seems poetry here is consigned to obscurity
A disappointing assessment of literature
A few of the named greats, a few anthologies
The favourite love poems, poems on war
A three quarter shelf collection if at all
Perhaps it’s a sign of the times changing
Modern life being unable to relate anymore
To the notions and thoughts of poetic lore
The pace picked up so long ago
The gentle stroll now a sprinting run
No more stopping to smell the air
The need to be someplace doing something
Everything else consigned to the shelf
Like a mirror reflecting the new world
The poetry of life has become an afterthought
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Persona Non Grata
once
sometime
long time ago
when the world was younger
none of this was a bother
when the heart was fonder
ancient lore
sometime
once
poem by Frederick Kesner
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Although born in a prosperous realm, we did not believe that its boundaries should limit our knowledge, and that the lore of the East should alone enlighten us.
quote by Charles de Secondat
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Are
You are my destiny
You are a dream come true.
You are the only one I need, want
And love.
You are the reason my heart beats.
You are the air that I breathe.
You are the better half of me.
You are all those things
And you are so much more.
You are everything that’s
What you are.
There Stood In The Silence
reading through the lore
many an eye closed in sleep
each grain each stone an earthly ore
a vision swept in a nightly weep
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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