Duke: And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.
line from As You Like It, Act II, Scene 1 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile
Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,
Hath not old customs make this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious court!
Here feel we not the penalty of Adam,
The seasons difference; as the icy fang
And churlish chiding of the winters wind,
Which when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say
This is no flattery; these are counsellors
That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Sweet are the uses of adversity;
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.
I would not change it.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Green Fields And Running Brooks
Ho! green fields and running brooks!
Knotted strings and fishing-hooks
Of the truant, stealing down
Weedy backways of the town.
Where the sunshine overlooks,
By green fields and running brooks,
All intruding guests of chance
With a golden tolerance,
Cooing doves, or pensive pair
Of picnickers, straying there--
By green fields and running brooks,
Sylvan shades and mossy nooks!
And--O Dreamer of the Days,
Murmurer of roundelays
All unsung of words or books,
Sing green fields and running brooks!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Duke Of Earl
Duke, duke, duke, duke of earl
Duke, duke, duke of earl
Duke, duke, duke of earl
Duke, duke, duke of earl
Duke, duke, duke, duke of earl
Duke, duke, duke of earl
Duke, duke, duke of earl
Duke, duke, duke of earl
As I walk through this world
Nothing can stop the duke of earl
And you, you are my girl
No one can hurt you, oh, no
Yes, i, oh, im gonna love you, oh, oh
Come on let me hold you, darlin
cause im the duke of earl
So yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
And when I hold you
Youll be my duchess, duchess of earl
Well walk through my dukedom
And a paradise we will share
Yes, i, oh, im gonna love you, oh, oh
Nothing can stop me now
cause im the duke of earl
So yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Duke, duke of earl
Duke, duke of earl
Duke, duke, duke, duke of earl
Duke, duke, duke of earl
Duke, duke, duke of earl
Duke, duke, duke of earl
Duke, duke, duke, duke of earl
Duke, duke, duke of earl
Duke, duke, duke of earl
Duke, duke, duke of earl
Yes, i, oh, im gonna love you, oh, oh
Come on let me hold you, darlin
cause im the duke of earl
So yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Duke (nothing can stop me now), duke of earl
Duke, duke of earl
Duke, duke, duke, duke of earl
Duke, duke, duke of earl
Duke, duke, duke of earl
Duke, duke, duke of earl
song performed by by New Edition
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Casually I Raise My Head Into The Skies
casually i raise my head to the skies
&
casually i raise my head to the skies
bereft of thoughts in gloom-
yes, i get my enlightenment
and my disease is dispelled-
there above amidst the white clouds
the orphaned moon flake sobs in sorrow-
a few days ago it was the queen of the night
with silver-plated smile priding amidst the stars-
life is never ever smooth and song-full;
one day beautiful and brilliant and brimming with thoughts
the next day drier more than a desert fuming emptiness-
yes, i am reminded of 'shakespeare's lines
'books in brooks and sermons in stones'!
--s.chandra kalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Picture-Books in Winter
Summer fading, winter comes--
Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs,
Window robins, winter rooks,
And the picture story-books.
Water now is turned to stone
Nurse and I can walk upon;
Still we find the flowing brooks
In the picture story-books.
All the pretty things put by,
Wait upon the children's eye,
Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,
In the picture story-books.
We may see how all things are
Seas and cities, near and far,
And the flying fairies' looks,
In the picture story-books.
How am I to sing your praise,
Happy chimney-corner days,
Sitting safe in nursery nooks,
Reading picture story-books?
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Good For You
Hey will you stay awhile
My smile will not mislead you
Cause Ive been alone
My faith turned to stone
Still theres something in you I believe in
Close to the pierce I go wild and fierce
Still I let you be, I feel you next to me
Cause inside I feel a wind that starts to blow
Im taken in your undertow
Everything is fine, Im lonely all the time
Cause all I want to do is be there
For the things that youre going through
Well, is it good for you is it good for you
Cause you haunt my nights when
I dont know where my life should go
Well, is it good for you, is it good for you
Hey child please stay a while
My smile will not mislead you
Cause Ive been without I go wild with doubt
I grab at you I cant stop grabbing at you
Cause I feel you cross my mind
In disarray, intoxicated ricochet
Theres nothing wrong just dont take too long
Cause all I want to do is be there
For the things that youre going through
Well, is it good for you is it good for you
Cause you haunt my nights when
I dont know where my life should go
Well, is it good for you
Well, is it good for you
All I want to do is be there
For the things that youre going through
Well is it good for you
Well is it good for you
Cause you haunt my nights when
I dont know where my life should go
Well is it good for you
Well is it good for you
song performed by by Third Eye Blind
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Running...
Running4Christ.
Running to race.
Running to live.
Running to stay fit.
Running to find myself.
Running to save lives.
Running to heaven.
Running for Christ.
Running for faith.
Running for Love.
Running for God.
Running for Life.
Running for Records
Running for Russia.
Running Till The End..
poem by Joseph Fuller
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Portrait
Because life's passing show
Is little to his mind,
There is a man I know
Indrawn from human kind.
His dearest friends are books;
Yet oh how glad he talks
To birds and trees and brooks
On lonely walks.
He takes the same still way
By grove and hill and sea;
He lives that each new day
May like the last one be.
He hates all kinds of change;
His step is sure and slow:
Though life has little range
He loves it so.
He makes it his one aim
His pleasure to repeat;
To always do the same,
Since sameness is so sweet;
In simple things to find
The dearest to his mood.
His true life in his mind
Is oh so good!
Please leave him to his dream,
This old, unweary man,
Who shuns the busy stream
And has outlived his span.
Just leave him on his shelf
To watch the world go by . . .
Because he is--myself:
Yea, such be I.
poem by Robert William Service
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You will find something more in woods than in books. Trees and stones will teach you that which you can never learn from masters.
quote by Saint Bernard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You will find something more in woods than in books. Trees and stones will teach you that which you can never learn from masters.
Saint Bernard in Epistle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Emperor's Glove. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fifth)
On St. Bavon's tower, commanding
Half of Flanders, his domain,
Charles the Emperor once was standing,
While beneath him on the landing
Stood Duke Alva and his train.
Like a print in books of fables,
Or a model made for show,
With its pointed roofs and gables,
Dormer windows, scrolls and labels,
Lay the city far below.
Through its squares and streets and alleys
Poured the populace of Ghent;
As a routed army rallies,
Or as rivers run through valleys,
Hurrying to their homes they went
'Nest of Lutheran misbelievers!'
Cried Duke Alva as he gazed;
'Haunt of traitors and deceivers,
Stronghold of insurgent weavers,
Let it to the ground be razed!'
On the Emperor's cap the feather
Nods, as laughing he replies:
'How many skins of Spanish leather,
Think you, would, if stitched together,
Make a glove of such a size?'
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Lost Days
running around, southing,
jumping on bed,
crying for petty things,
making paper boats in rain,
getting wet,
jumping in the poodles of water,
running falling, getting dirty
feelings safe in the arms of mother,
lying on the floor,
watching the ceiling
trying to figure out dragons and fairy
from the water patter formed by seepage
looking for rainbow, trying reach it
looking at stars, making a wish
those little games
imitating birds and running after dogs
climbing trees and getting scratched,
watching fishes in pond
throwing stones in water
i really miss those good old days
poem by Anjesh shekhar
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The Garden of simple things
There is a place
I embrace and call my own
Where seeds are sown and grown
A little pond lays quietly making splatters
When small or large stones are thrown
The garden of love
The garden of simple things
I go to when
I need to enjoy simple things
Embellished with trees of different shades
Leaves of various colours and blades
Ornament each patch of the ground
As roses of colour glow in and out
There is a place
With you I want to share
Whistles of bird sounds
Constantly fill the air
Announcing life's simple pleasures
That no one can actually measure
Reliving all of who are there
Temporarily of endless social pressures
Kids laugh and talk
People peacefully walk
Exempt from the noises
of cars and trucks
Exempt from argumentative or aggressive voices
Dogs stroll aside their masters
Lovers hold hands
Stealing away kisses in beauty spots
The garden of beauty
The garden of simple things
In winter or in spring
A peaceful wind is always blown
Trees and plants are carefully cultivated
To permit anyone at all to be strongly motivated
It is here I breathe the air without a care
There is simply no reason
In any season
Not to fall in love with
The garden of simple things
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Good Books
Good Books, Good Rhymes,
Good Stories, Good Times,
Good Beginings, Good Ends,
Good Tragic. Good Trends.
Good Fiction, Good Facts,
Good Adventures, Good Acts,
Good Characters, Good Thoughts,
Good Sense Of Humor, Good Soughts.
This Is Our Good Friends,
Which Have No Demand, No Complaints.
It Is Read By All Over-
From President To Cooks.
Really It Is Our
GOOD BOOKS………..
poem by Kaushal Saboo
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Epilogue: To A Mother
On seeing her smile repeated in her daughter's eyes
A thousand songs I might have made
Of You, and only You;
A thousand thousand tongues of fire
That trembled down a golden wire
To lamp the night with stars, to braid
The morning bough with dew.
Within the greenwood girl and boy
Had loiter'd to their lure,
And men in cities closed their books
To dream of Spring and running brooks
And all that ever was of joy
For manhood to abjure.
And I'd have made them strong, so strong
Outlasting towers and towns--
Millennial shepherds 'neath the thorn
Had piped them to a world reborn,
And danced Delight the dale along
And up the daisied downs.
A thousand songs I might have made...
But you required them not;
Content to reign your little while
Ere, abdicating with a smile,
You pass'd into a shade, a shade
Immortal--and forgot!
poem by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
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Nature teaches more than she preaches. There are no sermons in stones. It is easier to get a spark out of a stone than a moral.
quote by John Burroughs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sermons remain one of the last forms of public discourse where it is culturally forbidden to talk back.
quote by Harvey Cox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just When The Rain Stops
just when the rain stops
something within you stops too
the misery of being
confined in the small prison of
your thoughts
you find a window
and this wide door and you grope
for the key
to open something closed
days ago
you breathe the sea breeze
and take some salt of
life and you
release your sighs like
an earned ire
you take freedom finally
letting go your fingers and hands
your feet dance
go, go, go
your books on the table make the
cheering squad
out there
nature wants to be read
the books close finally
their pages like tongues
hide behind the thick glossy
hardbound cover
you are not a fool finally
touching the maps drawn
by the falling rain
welcome to the world
the trees tell you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Immortaility
Vacate is the word
vengeance has no place so near to her
cannot find the comfort in this world
Artificial tear
vessel stabbed, next up, volunteers?
vulnerable, wisdom can't adhere
A truant finds home
and a wish to hold on
but there's a trapdoor in the sun
immortality
As privileged as a whore
victims in demand for public show
swept out through the cracks beneath the door
Holier than thou, how?
surrendered, executed, anyhow
scrawl dissolved, cigar box on the floor
A truant finds home
and a wish to hold on too
but there's a trapdoor in the sun
I cannot stop the thought of running in the dark
coming up a which way sign
all good truants must decide
Sstripped and sold mom
an auctioned forearm
and whiskers in the sink
truants move on
cannot stay long
some die just to live...
ohh
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The first lesson of life on Mother's lap!
*How sad my poor Mom pawned her earrings for my books and she replaced some cloves on her earlobe?
Poor Mother is an Autumn in the chilly Winter.
That warmth you never get anywhere?
She reads a passage from the book of life
Keeping me as a soft toy on her lap.
'Hey! My little rascal what you see in the books?
One day you have to be there and see from your visual eye.
Mountains, Seas, Rivers, Brooks, Streams
Caves, Animals, Real human and else!
I remember one full Moon day she asked;
'What's your intension Johnny? '
I said that I want to be a Pilot!
Then she said with a wry smile;
'Somehow that's good, but what you gain from the barren sky?
Try to be a Skin Diver if possible at least you could see the hidden treasure at the mysterious bottom of the Ocean! '
Humbly to all Mothers in the World!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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