Vain is the chiming of forgotten bells That the wind sways above a ruined shrine. Vainer his voice in whom no longer dwells Hunger that craves immortal Bread and Wine. Light songs we breathe that perish with our breath Out of our lips that have not kissed the rod. They shall not live who have not tasted death. They only sing who are struck dumb by God.
quote by Joyce Kilmer
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
Poets
Vain is the chiming of forgotten bells
That the wind sways above a ruined shrine.
Vainer his voice in whom no longer dwells
Hunger that craves immortal Bread and Wine.
Light songs we breathe that perish with our breath
Out of our lips that have not kissed the rod.
They shall not live who have not tasted death.
They only sing who are struck dumb by God.
poem by Joyce Kilmer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Breathe In…breathe Out
God Breathes Life in…
You know this from first spanking
Involuntary breathing;
Regulated by a knowing body
Disrupted by emotions
Halted by trauma
Stopped by death
“Breath contains Light”
Learn to be a conscious breather;
Take in breath with awareness
Take in positive ions contained in Wind
Breathe out negative thoughts
Breathe out negative feelings
Breathe in
Breathe out
Let breath carry your prayers
Let breath voice thanksgiving
Let each breath praise God…
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nothing Anymore
When I once looked into your eyes,
I saw honesty lying there.
When I once looked into your eyes,
I saw loyalty with love and care.
When I once looked into your eyes,
I saw life and love forever more.
When I now look into your eyes,
I see darkness, and nothing anymore.
When I once held onto your hand,
I felt compassion, kindness and love.
When I once held onto your hand,
I felt the warmth from GOD above.
When I once held onto your hand,
I felt a joy from the person I adored.
When I now hold onto your hand,
I feel coldness, and nothing anymore.
When I use to listen to your voice,
I once heard it with vigor and excitement.
When I use to listen to your voice,
I once heard it with warmth and fulfillment.
When I use to listened to your voice,
I once heard it with truth which I swore.
When I now listen to your voice.
I go dumb, as I hear nothing anymore.
When I once looked upon your face,
I would always look with pride and a smile.
When I once looked upon your face,
I would always thank GOD your with me now
When I once looked upon your face,
I would always be there to open your door.
When I now look upon your face,
I go blind, as I see nothing anymore.
When I once kissed your lips,
I tasted myself and also your flavor.
When I once kissed your lips,
I tasted life as you were my savior.
When I once kissed your lips,
I tasted excitement and your love in store.
When I now think of kissing your lips,
I now bite them shut, I taste nothing anymore.
poem by Randy McClave
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Lingering Tastes
He tasted the wine that was on her lips
when they last had kissed.
It was sweeter than if he drunk of it himself,
a taste he could not resist.
He remembered the taste and never could find
anything better than this.
Was it the wine he couldn't forget
or was it just the kiss?
He tasted the bitterness on her lips
when they last had fought.
It was sharper than the words she said to him,
words that did persist
in finding a way to keep him cold,
nothing worse than this.
Was it the words he would never forget
or was it just the kiss?
The wine, the words and even the kiss
became a source of pain.
He prayed that he'd remember her lips of wine
and that the bitterness would not remain.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Ring Out, Solstice Bells
Now is the solstice of the year,
Winter is the glad song that you hear.
Seven maids move in seven time.
Have the lads up ready in a line.
Ring out these bells.
Ring out, ring solstice bells.
Ring solstice bells.
Join together beneath the mistletoe.
By the holy oak whereon it grows.
Seven druids dance in seven time.
Sing the song the bells call, loudly chiming.
Ring out these bells.
Ring out, ring solstice bells.
Ring solstice bells.
Praise be to the distant sister sun,
Joyful as the silver planets run.
Seven maids move in seven time.
Sing the song the bells call, loudly chiming.
Ring out those bells.
Ring out, ring solstice bells.
Ring solstice bells.
Ring on, ring out.
Ring on, ring out.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bread and games
They told me I should sing
But I didn't know what to sing
So I asked
What do you want me to sing
Sing bread and games
Bread and games and sing a long
And so I sang
And BANG
The pianist was shot
He had too long a finger
He had too short a thumb
And he was dumb
The said and you sing
Sing bread and games
Bread and games and sing a lot
And so I sang
And BANG
The trumpeter was shot
He had too round a face
He had too long a chin
For a musician a terrible sin
And you sing
Sing bread and games
Bread and games and sing a lot
And so I sang
And BANG
Sorry we had no choice
You've got such a terrible voice
2010.
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Dumb-Bells
DUMB-BELLS left, dumb-bells right,
Swing them hard, grip them tight!
Thirty fat men of the town
Must sweat their filthy paunches down.
Dripping sweat and pumping blood
They try to make themselves like God.
One and two, three and four,
Cleave the air and smite the floor!
Five and six, seven and eight,
Legs apart, shoulders straight!
Thirty fat men grunt and puff,
Thirty bellies plead, Enough!
Dumb-bells up, dumb-bells down,
Dumb-bells front, dumb-bells ground!
Thirty's God has just the girth
To pull the levers of the earth,
They made him sinewy and lean
And washed him glittering white and clean.
Dumb-bells in, dumb-bells out,
Count by fours and face about!
Put by dumb-bells for to-day,
Wash the stinking sweat away
And go out clean. But come again;
Worship's every night at ten.
poem by John Crowe Ransom
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Immortal
Released on the cd-single for goodbye
Do you have the will to walk on water
Do you have the strength to part the waves
Do you have the lips to kiss a blood red rose
fore the colors start to fade
But are you tough enough to walk through the fire
Are you (? ? ? ) split the hangmans noose
Wanna ride, gonna slide, take it over the line
Hit the pin, kick it in
Im gonna win again
I dont wanna live forever
I just want a slice of the pie to call my own
I dont wanna live forever
Do you wanna be, like I wanna be
Immortal
Do you have the bread to feed the hunger
Do you have to choose to turn water to wine
Do you have the tears to cry me a river
Build a bridge to the other side
But are you holding out for the late edition
Gonna read all about it cause its frontpage news
So high, bone dry, got a thirst for life
Kiss the skin, drink it in
Im gonna win again
I dont wanna live forever
I just want a slice of the pie to call my own
I dont wanna live forever
Do you wanna be, like I wanna be
Immortal
Just like the gates of heaven
Theres no way back, theres no way back
Im ten miles high got the keys to the kingdom
Im back on track
Got a life and Im living it
Do you have the (game? ? ) to the tell me a secret
Or will I read all about it when its frontpage news
Wanna ride, gonna slide, take it over the line
Hit the pin, kick it in
Im gonna win again
I dont wanna live forever
I just want a slice of the pie to call my own
I dont wanna live forever
Do you wanna be, like I wanna be
I dont wanna live forever
I just want a slice of the pie to call my own
I dont wanna live forever
Do you wanna be, like I wanna be immortal
I dont wanna live forever
Cause I wanna be immortal
Do you wanna be immortal
I dont wanna live forever
Like I wanna be immortal
Dont you wanna be immortal
I dont wanna live forever
Cause I wanna be immortal
Do you wanna be immortal
I dont wanna live forever
Like I wanna be immortal
song performed by by Def Leppard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What I Have Seen #2
I saw a maid with her chivalrous lover:
He was both tender and true;
He kissed her lips, vowing over and over,
'Darling, I worship you.'
Sing, sing, bird of the spring,
Tell of the flowers the summer will bring.
I saw the maiden, sweet, loving, confiding,
Smile when he whispered 'Mine,'
Saw her lips meet his with no word of chiding,
Though his breath fumed with wine.
Wail, wail, Nightingale,
Sing of a mourner bowed and pale.
I saw the lover and maid at the altar,
Bound by the bands divine;
Heard the responses-they fail not nor falter-
Saw the guests pledge in wine.
Howl, howl, ominous Owl,
Shriek of the terrible tempest's scowl.
I saw the drunkard's wife weeping in anguish,
Saw her struck down by a blow;
I saw the husband in prison-cells languish-
Thus ends the tale of woe.
Shriek, shriek, O Raven! speak
Of the terrible midnight, dark and bleak.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song Of Songs
Sing me at morn but only with your laugh;
Even as Spring that laugheth into leaf;
Even as Love that laugheth after Life.
Sing me but only with your speech all day,
As voluble leaflets do; let viols die;
The least word of your lips is melody!
Sing me at eve but only your sigh!
Like lifting seas it solaceth; breathe so,
Slowly and low, the sense that no songs say.
Sing me at midnight with your murmurous heart!
Let youth's immortal-moaning chord be heard
Throbbing through you, and sobbing, unsubdued.
poem by Wilfred Owen
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Choriambics-I.
Ah! not now, when desire burns, and the wind calls, and the suns of spring
Light-foot dance in the woods, whisper of life, woo me to wayfaring;
Ah! not now should you come, now when the road beckons,and good friends call,
Where are songs to be sung, fights to be fought, yea! and the best of all,
Love, on myriad lips fairer than yours, kisses you could not give! . . .
Dearest, why should I mourn, whimper, and whine, I that have yet to live?
Sorrow will I forget, tears for the best, love on the lips of you,
Now, when dawn in the blood wakes, and the sun laughs up the eastern blue;
I'll forget and be glad!
Only at length, dear, when the great day ends,
When love dies with the last light, and the last song has been sung, and friends
All are perished, and gloom strides on the heaven: then, as alone I lie,
'Mid Death's gathering winds, frightened and dumb, sick for the past, may I
Feel you suddenly there, cool at my brow; then may I hear the peace
Of your voice at the last, whispering love, calling, ere all can cease
In the silence of death; then may I see dimly, and know, a space,
Bending over me, last light in the dark, once, as of old, your face.
poem by Rupert Brooke (1908)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Choriambics I
Ah! not now, when desire burns, and the wind calls, and the suns of spring
Light-foot dance in the woods, whisper of life, woo me to wayfaring;
Ah! not now should you come, now when the road beckons,
and good friends call,
Where are songs to be sung, fights to be fought, yea! and the best of all,
Love, on myriad lips fairer than yours, kisses you could not give! . . .
Dearest, why should I mourn, whimper, and whine, I that have yet to live?
Sorrow will I forget, tears for the best, love on the lips of you,
Now, when dawn in the blood wakes, and the sun laughs up the eastern blue;
I'll forget and be glad!
Only at length, dear, when the great day ends,
When love dies with the last light, and the last song has been sung,
and friends
All are perished, and gloom strides on the heaven: then, as alone I lie,
'Mid Death's gathering winds, frightened and dumb, sick for the past, may I
Feel you suddenly there, cool at my brow; then may I hear the peace
Of your voice at the last, whispering love, calling, ere all can cease
In the silence of death; then may I see dimly, and know, a space,
Bending over me, last light in the dark, once, as of old, your face.
poem by Rupert Brooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song Of The Voiceless
Born in the midst of pain
Raised in the depth of strain
I'm a dumb little man
my voice is not more that a blowing fan
I sing songs of anarchy and neglect
But my songs are the simplest to forget
I played a string for my vain
I performed in street insane
Every single day
I played a song my way
I have a sharp sweet little voice
But everyone sees it as disturbing noise
I'm a musician no i'm a poet
I've wrote and sing beautiful words I get
I often performed in a theater in my home
with masse of dirty cheering me alone
I tied my mega-phone to the leg of my audience
I held my gitter With a smile of glaring radiance
I performed for my fans with all my skill
They in turn glance with applaud for they do not feel
my songs is often seems pointless
For I sing with words that are voiceless
poem by Kemurl Fofanah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Doing Nothing
WITH the sorrow on me
Neighbours come and go —
Think me vain and foolish
Nursing up my woe.
With the grief-blade in me
Keen and chill as steel —
Can I laugh like others,
Feel the joy they feel?
Since he died and left me
Things don't matter much,
Life, that danced and capered,
Limps upon a crutch.
Night and day I ponder,
Drawing weary breath —
Since to love we're moulded,
Why should there be death?
Night and day I'm asking
Him Who dwells above —
Since to death we're going,
Why should there be love?
When he kissed and left me,
Oh, he looked so brave! —
God be with him sleeping
In his far-off grave!
What are dress and jewels,
What are meat and bread
To a lonely woman
Grieving for her dead?
Wan I am with weeping,
Tired of heart I sink —
Doing nothing . . . only
Trying not to think'
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Songs of Praise the Angels Sang
Songs of praise the angels sang,
Heav’n with alleluias rang,
When creation was begun,
When God spoke and it was done.
Songs of praise awoke the morn
When the Prince of Peace was born;
Songs of praise arose when He
Captive led Captivity.
Heav’n and earth must pass away!
Songs of praise shall crown that day!
God will make new heav’ns and earth;
Songs of praise shall hail their birth.
And can man alone be dumb,
Till that glorious kingdom come?
No: the church delights to raise
Psalms, and hymns, and songs of praise.
Saints below, with heart and voice,
Still in songs of praise rejoice,
Learning here, by faith and love,
Songs of praise to sing above.
Borne upon their latest breath,
Songs of praise shall conquer death;
Then amidst eternal joy,
Songs of praise their powers employ.
Hymns of glory, songs of praise,
Father, unto Thee we raise;
Jesus, glory unto Thee,
With the Spirit, ever be.
poem by James Montgomery
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When I First Kissed You
New york city can be so pretty
]from a birds eye view
Because up there
Yeah, thats where I first kissed you
A modern day romance
A perfect performance
Acting like two fools
Saying silly things
Whisper sweet nothings
Live young lovers only do
I was shaking
You were breathtaking
Like the empire state
My voice was so far
Not quite sinatra
Singing songs so great
The clock struck one
The night still very young
In the city that never sleeps
Then a whirlwind blew
When I first kissed you
Nearly swept me
Swept me off my feet
When I first kissed you
Thats when I knew
I was in love
Because up there
Yeah, thats where
I first kissed you
song performed by by Extreme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Talking XX
And then a scholar said, "Speak of Talking."
And he answered, saying:
You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts;
And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and a pastime.
And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered.
For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words many indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.
There are those among you who seek the talkative through fear of being alone.
The silence of aloneness reveals to their eyes their naked selves and they would escape.
And there are those who talk, and without knowledge or forethought reveal a truth which they themselves do not understand.
And there are those who have the truth within them, but they tell it not in words.
In the bosom of such as these the spirit dwells in rhythmic silence.
When you meet your friend on the roadside or in the market place, let the spirit in you move your lips and direct your tongue.
Let the voice within your voice speak to the ear of his ear;
For his soul will keep the truth of your heart as the taste of the wine is remembered
When the color is forgotten and the vessel is no more.
poem by Khalil Gibran
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What You Can Do....
dearly beloved
promise yourself not to forget poetry
you cannot say that, unless you are prepared to be another congenital liar,
your lips miss always the metaphors that please your tongue
that tastes the sweetness of nectar words
inside the receptacles of your flower-mind
come, dearly beloved
for the meantime leave the daily cares of your search for comfort
forget the greenish look of the almighty money
come with me
let us sing the songs of our perdition
let us ring the bells of of our death
to art, say it again, to art i must live and die and live and die
and die again
only to be redeemed by the powers of its beauty
its grace that saves us
ultimately from the evils of boredom
of too much familiarity to the insignificant
and the worldly,
dearly beloved we set free our butterflies
into the infinite skies of our
immortal existence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Singer
Nay! sing no more thy wild delusive strain
(I heard them say, while I my song pursued),
'Tis but the rage of thy delirious brain
(I heard them say, yet still my song renewed):
Nay! sing no more with reckless, idle breath
Of man immortal and of life to come,
For one brief moment scan the face of death,
Then be thy foolish song for ever dumb;
Behold the dusty ash that once was fire,
And mark the summer leaf in autumn fall,
Watch thou the wavering breath of man expire,
And know that Death hath lordship over all
(I heard them say with many a scornful word,
Yet still sang on as one who nothing heard).
poem by William Gay
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Forty-five
Bells are chiming for victory
Theres a page back in history - 45
They came back to the world that they fought for
Didnt turn out just like they thought - 45
Here is a song to sing to do the measuring
What did you lose, what did you gain, what did you win?
Nine years later a child is born
Theres a record so you put it on - 45
Nine years more if were lucky now
Nine year old puts his money down - 45
Every scratch, every click, every heartbeat
Every breath that I held for you - 45
Theres a stack of shellac and vinyl
Which is yours now or which is mine? - 45
Here is a song to sing to do the measuring
What did you lose, what did you gain, what did you win?
Bass and treble heal every hurt
Theres a rebel in a nylon shirt
But the words are a mystery Ive heard
Till you turn it down to thirty-three and a third
cause it helps with the elocution
Corporations turn revolutions - 45
I heard something peculiar said
Perhaps hes got a shot and now hes dead - 45
So dont you weep and shed(? )
Just change my name instead
But what do you lose when it all goes to your head?
Bells are chiming and tears are falling
It creeps up on you without a warning - 45
Every scratch, every click, every heartbeat
Every breath that Ive blessed
Ill be lost I confess - 45 45 45
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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