A rich widow weeps in one eye and laughs with the other.
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A rich widow weeps with one eye and laughs with the other.
A rich widow weeps with one eye and signals with the other.
Solemn Hour
Whoever now weeps somewhere in the world,
weeps without reason in the world,
weeps over me.
Whoever now laughs somewhere in the night,
laughs without reason in the night,
laughs at me.
Whoever now wanders somewhere in the world,
wanders without reason out in the world,
wanders toward me.
Whoever now dies somewhere in the world,
dies without reason in the world,
looks at me.
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Face Concealed Under My Hat (Revised)
I waltz into the office after lunch, brag about my
new Mafia hat which makes me look like a rich widow
- my colleagues looked askance, said Rich Widow -
you hope; I amended it to The Merry Widow - Franz
Lehar's operetta, I can see me on stage singing,
face concealed under the brim - but receiving
less enthusiastic response from a working crowd
I hung it on a hatstand to look impressive among
silver chains, xmas decorations already finding
their way there and a white scarf with silver
glitter; going home I took it with me to look
again at the toy in my hands - not wishing my
realistic family to burst my bubble too soon,
I hid the hat, as yet a game too new
To have shattered, a dream I'll treasure until
ready to let go of what it means to me…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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A woman laughs when she can, and weeps when she pleases.
While My Guitar Gently Weeps
I look at you all see the love there that's sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps
I look at the floor and I see it needs sweeping
Still my guitar gently weeps
I don't know why nobody told you how to unfold your love
I don't know how someone controlled you
They bought and sold you.
I look at the world and I notice it's turning
While my guitar gently weeps
With every mistake we must surely be learning
Still my guitar gently weeps
I don't know how you were diverted
You were perverted too
I don't know how you were inverted
No one alerted you.
I look at you all see the love there that's sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps
Look at you all...
Still my guitar gently weeps.
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song For Heroes
Captain O’Hare was a mariner brave;
He refused to abandon his ship;
A hero, he sleeps in a watery grave—
And his widow is now Mrs. Bipp,
Haw! Haw!
His widow is now Mrs. Bipp!
Henri Dupont was a fearless young ace;
Five thousand feet up he was hit;
Each year on his grave pretty flowers we place—
And his widow is now Mrs. Schmitt,
Haw! Haw!
His widow is now Mrs. Schmitt!
Corporal Dunn was a volunteer bold;
He plunged in the deadliest fray;
A bayonet thrust laid him out stony cold—
And his widow is now Mrs. Gray,
Haw! Haw!
His widow is now Mrs. Gray!
But Peter McGuck was a cowardly sneak,
Like a hound he remained home in fear;
When fishing one day he fell into the creek—
And his widow is now Mrs. Greer,
Haw! Haw! Haw!
Mrs. William O’Houlihan Greer!
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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The Black Knight's Song
Knight And Wamba
There came three merry men from south, west, and north,
Ever more sing the roundelay;
To win the Widow of Wycombe forth,
And where was the widow might say them nay?
The first was a knight, and from Tynedale he came,
Ever more sing the roundelay;
And his fathers, God save us, were men of great faine,
And where was the widow might say him nay?
Of his father the laird, of his uncle the squire,
He boasted in rhyme and in roundelay;
She bade him go bask by his sea-coal fire,
For she was the widow would say him nay.
Wamba
The next that came forth, swore by blood and by nails,
Merrily sing the roundelay;
Hur's a gentleman, God wot, and hur's lineage was of Wales,
And where was the widow might say him nay?
Sir David ap Morgan ap Griffith ap Hugh
Ap Tudor ap Rhice, quoth his roundelay;
She said that one widow for so many was too few,
And she bade the Welshman wend his way.
But then next came a yeoman, a yeoman of Kent,
Jollily singing his roundelay;
He spoke to the widow of living and rent,
And where was the widow could say him nay?
Both
So the knight and the squire were both left in the mire,
There for to sing their roundelay;
For a yeoman of Kent, with his yearly rent,
There never was a widow could say him nay.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Black Widow
I just love my nightmares
I cant wait to sleep
Enjoying all my dreams
Got no regrets
I can be a flash of lightning
Striking down on rocks
Burning down the law
Getting things I never got
Turning the world
Nothing unheard
One night can be more than a day
Just like a black widow
Like a black widow
I cant stand the dreamers
Scared of things that fly
They just have sweet fantasies
And fade and die
Nightmares - are so good, so good
And they always end just when they should
Nightmares are cool, nightmares are cruel
I love the fun and the thrill
Just like a black widow
Like a black widow
Black widow
Just like a black widow
Here comes the morning
And who can deny
Leaving the dream is so hard
I love my nightmares
I await their return
And this time, Im dressed to kill, dressed to kill
Just like a black widow............
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love Expresses Itself Nevertheless
I fear no grieving widow, even if the world wails
I have no yearning to issue another one of me
even if earth weeps and with sombre details
declares that the last of my days will be,
and even if my life is spend,
life still has its sorrows and its joys
the entire world does not end,
it is still filled with its pleasures and its ploys
and in truth no child though from my body
is truly me and even in temperament we are apt to be different
and love appears by itself, is different for everybody
and still I am living and far from spent:
there is no shame nor is it heartless to be childless,
without fear love expresses itself nevertheless.
(In answer to William Shakespeare/Reference: Sonnet 9 “Is it fear to wet a widow’s eye” by William Shakespeare.)
poem by Gert Strydom
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Man is the animal who weeps and laughs – and writes. If the first Prometheus brought fire from heaven in a fennel-stalk, the last will take it back – in a book.
quote by John Cowper Powys
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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While My Guitar Gently Weeps
I look at you all see the love there thats sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps
I look at the floor and I see it needs sweeping
Still my guitar gently weeps
I dont know why nobody told you how to unfold your love
I dont know how someone controlled you
They bought and sold you.
I look at the world and I notice its turning
While my guitar gently weeps
With every mistake we must surely be learning
Still my guitar gently weeps
I dont know how you were diverted
You were perverted too
I dont know how you were inverted
No one alerted you.
I look at you all see the love there thats sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps
Look at you all . . .
Still my guitar gently weeps.
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man is the only animal that laughs and weeps, for he is the only animal that is struck with the difference between what things are and what they ought to be.
quote by William Hazlitt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man is the only animal that laughs and weeps; for he is the only animal that is struck with the difference between what things are, and what they ought to be.
quote by William Hazlitt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Excessive sorrow laughs. Excessive joy weeps.
quote by William Blake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Widows Walk
Weary as she walks alone,
Down forgotten dusty path.
Ravens dropp into the grass,
Seeking rest from miles flown.
Trying to get home by dawn,
Mourning widow softly weeps.
Just behind, a Raven stalks,
For her love is now long gone.
poem by Victoria Alyse Gleason
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A Coin Of Little Worth
I have seen and liked
silver coins stamped
in ancient Greece Rome
these usually carry the image
of supposedly great men
kings emperors face in profile
but their deeds were often
treacherous harsh cruel
wars these started for more
wealth slaves land to rule
my favourite coin
is a very small coin
tiny of little worth
that a woman with nothing
once gave at the temple
a very very long time ago
My Lord praised her
for giving all her livelihood
for giving more than
all gathered rich worshippers
combined because
proud rich gave a percentage
from all their amassed profit
a percentage calculated
based upon requirements of
law; but a poor woman gave
everything she had
based upon her own giving heart
it is written how Jesus sat down;
with the treasury chests in view
observing how the crowd dropped
money into the treasury chests;
many rich people were dropping in
many coins however a poor
widow woman dropped in only two
small coins which had very little value;
these coins became known as the widow's mite.
Jesus called his disciples and said to them
"Truly I say to YOU that this poor widow
dropped in more than all those dropping
money into the treasury chests; for they
all dropped in out of their surplus,
but she dropped in all of what
she had, her whole living." Mark 12: 41-44.
For the love of God.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Widow of Massacre
Some said she lost,
None said she crossed,
Nothing was known clear
Something about her was fear.
Everything, though said,
She's a widow of massacre.
If asked, she never say,
because witness you can pay,
She lost hee husband,
Then lost her hand.
Everything, though said,
She's a widow of massacre.
Behind her, there're stories,
Behind stories, there's worries,
Her village was ambushed,
And in bullets, washed.
Everything, though said,
She's a widow of massacre.
She survived the claws of wild,
After death of her single child,
Finally she ran to this village,
Where we paid her homage.
Everything, though said
She's a widow of massacre.
poem by Buyunde Acura Sylivester
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