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When the spleen increases, the body diminishes.
I'm now convinced that I'm a doctor. I mean, if someone says they have a pain, I'm like, 'Well, that's your spleen.'
quote by Olivia Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As Ireland Wore the Green
BY RIGHT of birth in southern land I send my warning forth.
I see my country ruined by the wrongs that damned the North.
And shall I stand with fireless eyes and still and silent mouth
While Mammon builds his Londons on the fair fields of the South?
CHORUS:
O must we hide our colour
In fear of Mammon’s spleen?
Or shall we wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland wore the green?
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland wore the green!
Aye, we will wear our colour still,
As Ireland wore the green!
I see the shade of poverty fall on each sunny scene.
And slums and alley-ways extend where fields were evergreen.
There is a law that stamps the flower of freedom as it springs;
And this upon a soil that’s trod by prouder feet than kings’.
And must I hide my colour
In fear of Mammon’s spleen?
Or shall I wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland wore the green?
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland swore the green!
Aye, I will wear my colour yet,
As Ireland wore the green!
Out there beyond the lonely range our fathers toiled for years
’Neath all the hardships that beset true-hearted pioneers;
And our brave mothers journeyed there to do the work of men
On those great awful plains that were unfit for women then.
Then must we hide our colour
In fear of Mammon’s spleen?
Or shall we wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland swore the green?
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland wore the green!
Aye, we shall wear our colour still,
As Ireland wore the green!
O shall the fields our fathers won be yielded to the few
Who never touched the axe or spade, and hardships never knew?
Shall lordly robbers rule the land and build their mansions high,
And ladies flaunt their jewelled plumes where our brave mothers lie?
O must we hide our colour
In fear of Mammnon’s spleen?
Or shall the wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland wore the green?
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland wore the green!
Aye, the will wear our colour yet,
As Ireland wore the green!
What though our stalwart fathers came from every land on earth,
We will be loyal to the land that gives our children birth.
We’ll show our banner to the sun—the Southern Cross displayed—
And join our strength together for the home our fathers made.
Let cowards hide their colour
For fear of Mammon’s spleen!
But I will wear my bonnie blue
As Ireland swore the green!
As Ireland swore the green, my friends!
As Ireland wore the green!
Aye, I will wear my colour still,
As Ireland swore the green!
We’ll light the lamp of hope above the alley and the slum,
And teach the poor and drill them for the war that is to come.
We’ll send our songs recruiting far beneath the western sky,
And wake the towns and let them know the day of deeds is nigh.
And the twill wear our colour
In spite of Mammon’s spleen!
O the will wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland wore the green!
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland wore the green!
Aye, the will wear our colour yet,
As Ireland wore the green!
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chakra #2
color orange-spleen
located near naval
controls
health, pleasure
feeling sexuality
reproductive capacity
direct self toward
devotion
happiness
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Winter's Chill
Winter arrived
without
a warning
Snow covered
the ground
Like a weightless
blanket.
The air was
brisk
sweeping
across my face,
Chilling to my
spleen.
You touched me
I was warm again.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Those Two
Humor has a merry mien:
he warms the blood and heats the soul
and percolating through the spleen
purges from it Envy's bile.
But Wit has on his sabor tip
the heart of many a paladin
who travelled far to challenge him.
He doesn't lose. He plays to win.
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Smile
but your eyes are always made of sorrow
bathed in a tear guardian of my soul
take care I say it's ok
the lips away part goodbye
I'll be there you say closing me down
in an embrace
(what's in an embrace)
a wordless speechless frozen spleen
shall we remember that we have been
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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0022 Unsung Malady
Your messages are so venomous,
your words so loaded with abuse
that I would recommend
a metaphysical health check:
a subtle X-ray or better still, a Why-ray
might show up something in
the spleen or in the bile duct
before it's too late for
poetic irony or
poetic justice
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Those Who Adorn Masks
The search for originality...
Stifles many to follow.
Without an independent,
Creativity in mind to lead.
Some who do this to others,
Discover stagnant air...
In shallow pools unable to breathe.
To leave them blatantly seen,
As those who adorn masks.
Supported by neither spine...
Nor equiiped with a spleen.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On A Horn
The joy of man, the pride of brutes,
Domestic subject for disputes,
Of plenty thou the emblem fair,
Adorn'd by nymphs with all their care!
I saw thee raised to high renown,
Supporting half the British crown;
And often have I seen thee grace
The chaste Diana's infant face;
And whensoe'er you please to shine,
Less useful is her light than thine:
Thy numerous fingers know their way,
And oft in Celia's tresses play.
To place thee in another view,
I'll show the world strange things and true;
What lords and dames of high degree
May justly claim their birth from thee!
The soul of man with spleen you vex;
Of spleen you cure the female sex.
Thee for a gift the courtier sends
With pleasure to his special friends:
He gives, and with a generous pride,
Contrives all means the gift to hide:
Nor oft can the receiver know,
Whether he has the gift or no.
On airy wings you take your flight,
And fly unseen both day and night;
Conceal your form with various tricks;
And few know how or where you fix:
Yet some, who ne'er bestow'd thee, boast
That they to others give thee most.
Meantime, the wise a question start,
If thou a real being art;
Or but a creature of the brain,
That gives imaginary pain?
But the sly giver better knows thee;
Who feels true joys when he bestows thee.
poem by Jonathan Swift
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Dr. Mead, On His Cape Wine.
Your Wine, by Southern Suns refin'd,
Is a just Emblem of your Mind:
Like You, the gen'rous Juice displays
Its Influence a thousand Ways;
Like You, it raises sinking Hearts,
Inspiring, and rewarding Arts;
Dispels the Spleen, and conquers Pain,
Calls back departing Life again.
poem by Mary Barber
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry must be your art
Desire is your first name - Love
Sadness must be your last
Yearning is in middle -
to cuddle these men in black
Death makes your epic
Poetry must be your art
Orgasm is your myth
for ages thats been your trick
Heart is where your battles are fought
The spleen must be your powderhouse
Kiss of lips is your flagship, targets-
from where you randomly pick
poem by Prakash Nair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Surfaces
at the surface it may be smooth
like varnished furniture
but then it is not the surface that really counts
the inner layer makes the difference
is it made of steel or plain wood?
what stuff are you made of?
what heart is there? what spleen?
softness of cotton absorbent to failures
the hardness of clay that cracks to heat
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cancer
Cancer laid itself down
Like black muck
Upon white lace
Devouring every inch
Without hesitation
Or respite;
Filling itself
To the full
Of all that
Once was perfect, tangible;
Unwitting losers
To it's rancorous bite;
Bitterness that far
surpassed the spleen;
A bilious character
Outright mean;
Growing wildly
Often unseen;
In the once Virgin
Bodies of health;
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spleen Tempered Severs
peripheral moment
may came after
someone you thought
you knew turns
against you omen portent
sense shock stiletto knifes
sharp betrayal struck
spleen tempered severs
if you have known this
person loyal an entire life
had he she a lover been
had he she a friend been
then dimensions quake
realities unhinge structured
landscapes split transformed
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After Paul Verlaine-III
SPLEEN
Around were all the roses red,
The ivy all around was black.
Dear, so thou only move thine head,
Shall all mine old despairs awake!
Too blue, too tender was the sky,
The air too soft, too green the sea.
Always I fear, I know not why,
Some lamentable flight from thee.
I am so tired of holly-sprays
And weary of the bright box-tree,
Of all the endless country ways;
Of everything alas! save thee.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On A Stormy Day
on this kind of acerbity
waves of the sea in agitation
the air in animosity with water
the bitterness of the moon
the bluster and choler of the elements
the convulsion of the sea floor
the eruption of frenzy
the ferment of furor
the ire of the sun
the rampage of the trees and its shadows
an uproar of disgust
the violence of vehemence
the mosquitoes on a wingding of a wrath
the hemorrhage of human emotions
the paroxysm of our passions
the gall of the spleen
the madness of men to men
the ferocity of all these fireworks of lies
the tantrums of temper
to acrimony
amen.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Made In Sri Lanka!
I promise that one day donate you everything;
Barefoot, fingers, limbs, eyes, ears, mouth, tongue
Pitutary gland, Thyroid, Prostate
Lungs, spleen, intestines and rest of all!
I give you my melting heart
And you can record that unsung song
Doctor please do not interfere with my holey pocket
And give me a solace for this severe back pain
Sorry I do not have a proper health insurance
But I have my old tattered certificate of birth
Made in Sri Lanka!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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