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I don't measure a man's success by how high he climbs but how high he bounces when he hits bottom.
quote by George S. Patton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Negotiate The Works
Worriless, one walks down a road.
With worry, one climbs down the cliff.
Worry comes in expecting a fall.
Worry comes in fearing a fall.
One thinks of fall rather than
Negotiates his steps there.
Fear takes away one's attention
From the task one is going through
And diverts it to worrying.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who Is Truly Great?
Great is one who humbles oneself;
Great is one who accomplishes without expectations;
Great is one who labors for others’ welfare;
Great is one who struggles for a noble cause;
Great is one who gives his life for his Maker’s sake;
Great is one who sacrifices his precious life for truth’s sake;
Great is one who takes the road least taken;
Great is one who climbs life’s steep hills;
Great is one who treads dangerous paths for mankind’s progress;
Great is one who risks his life unduly to save others’ lives;
Great is one who although born or made handicapped does extra-ordinary feats;
Great is one who scales heights of achievements rarely done by others;
Great is one who toils in sleep-hours too for mankind’s upliftment;
Great is one who racks his brain to find a cure for a crippling disease;
Great is one who shuns selfishness for the cause of his poorer brethren;
Great is one who dies so that others can live in peace;
Great is one who lives not for oneself but others;
Great is one who loves and forgives his worst foe;
Great is one who leads life in accordance with the Word of God!
(4-13-2007)
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunset
Slowly the west reaches for clothes of new colors
which it passes to a row of ancient trees.
You look, and soon these two worlds both leave you
one part climbs toward heaven, one sinks to earth.
leaving you, not really belonging to either,
not so hopelessly dark as that house that is silent,
not so unswervingly given to the eternal as that thing
that turns to a star each night and climbs-
leaving you (it is impossible to untangle the threads)
your own life, timid and standing high and growing,
so that, sometimes blocked in, sometimes reaching out,
one moment your life is a stone in you, and the next, a star.
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just A Day
I`m just a fish swimming in the bay
On a bright sunny day
Blinded by the beauty of the suns brightest ray
Fighting tides against the wind
Thinking of what could have been
I`m just a bird flying high
In the great big open sky
watching the beauty of the bluebird fly
I`m just a moose running on the loose
wishing you were here to give me a boost
I`m just a honey bee looking for that flower
On a vine that climbs your tower
Thinking of a way that i may say
How beautiful you made my day
poem by Joseph Whelan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Rondel
When I was hatred I was great,
While I, today, all things above,
Am great – great for I feel I’m love,
Great for with Lethe I share the fate.
Yes, mercilessness makes you great,
But high you fly, high like a dove
When nothing is your heart but love,
When mercy does your soul elate.
I know: all things bear sorrow’s weight,
Through life in ignorance we rove,
But every solace is in love,
And even if distress be great,
Elation is: forgive, forget.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski from The Poem Of Rondels (1927), translated by Dan Duţescu
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Seascape With Sun and Eagle
Freer
than most birds
an eagle flies up
over San Francisco
freer than most places
soars high up
floats and glides high up
in the still
open spaces
flown from the mountains
floated down
far over ocean
where the sunset has begun
a mirror of itself
He sails high over
turning and turning
where seaplanes might turn
where warplanes might burn
He wheels about burning
in the red sun
climbs and glides
and doubles back upon himself
now over ocean
now over land
high over pinwheels suck in sand
where a rollercoaster used to stand
soaring eagle setting sun
All that is left of our wilderness
poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Dorothy Wellesley
STRETCH towards the moonless midnight of the trees,
As though that hand could reach to where they stand,
And they but famous old upholsteries
Delightful to the touch; tighten that hand
As though to draw them closer yet.
Rammed full
Of that most sensuous silence of the night
(For since the horizon's bought strange dogs are still)
Climb to your chamber full of books and wait,
No books upon the knee, and no one there
But a Great Dane that cannot bay the moon
And now lies sunk in sleep.
What climbs the stair?
Nothing that common women ponder on
If you are worrh my hope! Neither Content
Nor satisfied Conscience, but that great family
Some ancient famous authors mistepresent,
The proud Furies each with her torch on high.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Consolation
See, Phoebus breaking from the willing skies,
See, how the soaring Lark, does with him rise,
And through the air, is such a journy borne
As if she never thought of a return.
Now, to his noon, behold him proudly goe,
And look with scorn, on all that's great below.
A Monark he, and ruler of the day,
A fav'rite She, that in his beams does play.
Glorious, and high, but shall they ever bee,
Glorious, and high, and fixt where now we see?
No, both must fall, nor can their stations keep,
She to the Earth, and he below the Deep,
At night both fall, but the swift hand of time
Renews the morning, and again they climb,
Then lett no cloudy change, create my sorrow,
I'll think 'tis night, and I may rise to-morrow.
poem by Anne Kingsmill Finch
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When The Gray Fog Covers The Great Gums
When the gray fog covers the great gums and the pied currawongs they do call
You know heavy rain is approaching to Kalorama in late Fall
Across the high woodlands of Yarra Ranges the cool winds of early May blow
The mountain ash have seen many Seasons and with each Season taller they grow
The people who live near the high woods feel proud of their place of tall trees
The laughter of the kookaburras the mountain ash soughing in the breeze
When the gray fog covers the great gums you know that the Winter is near
The mountain air is a bit chilly in the Yarra Ranges in the Fall of the year,
The white cockatoos they are squawking their grating calls not a pleasant sound
Though quite pretty birds for to look at in the high woods their numbers abound
The king parrots and crimson rosellas quite beautiful birds to behold
In tree cavities they are born and 'tis said they live to be old
And the pied currawongs the big dark birds in the fog hidden woodland do call
And the rain clouds beginning to drizzle in Kalorama in the late Fall.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Constantly risking absurdity and death whenever he performs above the heads of his audience, the poet, like an acrobat, climbs on rhyme to a high wire of his own making.
quote by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fall Out
Fall out.
Fall in.
Fall out.
Fall in.
Fall out.
Fall in.
Goodnight, my love.
Goodbye, the feeling of leading you into my life.
I ran with the wind in my face, I was proud.
I flew with my father when I was allowed.
I felt like a hero when I was with you.
Those days I felt God,
They were far, they were few,
They were mine.
Goodnight, my babies.
Goodbye the memories of showing you, my pride and my joy.
You are the angels
a world spinning, full.
You are the reason I'll never need more.
I felt like a great man when I was with you.
Those days I felt, daughter,
They were far, they were few,
They were mine.
Fall out.
Fall in.
Fall out.
Fall in.
Goodnight, my friends.
Goodbye, the dreams that all danced their way into my life.
The horse of forever
We rode in our youth
We walked into heaven through hell in these boots
I feel a great love while I'm here in your arms.
You were all brothers
And fathers and sons,
You were mine.
Now I can finally see the light.
I can finally see you in the night.
Fall in.
Fall out.
Fall in.
Fall in.
I can finally see the light.
I can finally see you in the night.
I can finally see.
And I can finally see the light.
I can finally see you in this night.
Fall out.
song performed by by Train
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kestrel
It climbs on thermals high
Hovers in air effortlessly bound
Looks down with ever watchful eye
At tiny specks on the ground
Moving shadow its only give away
Then down it swoops on its prey
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Conversation of Prayer
The conversation of prayers about to be said
By the child going to bed and the man on the stairs
Who climbs to his dying love in her high room,
The one not caring to whom in his sleep he will move
And the other full of tears that she will be dead,
Turns in the dark on the sound they know will arise
Into the answering skies from the green ground,
From the man on the stairs and the child by his bed.
The sound about to be said in the two prayers
For the sleep in a safe land and the love who dies
Will be the same grief flying. Whom shall they calm?
Shall the child sleep unharmed or the man be crying?
The conversation of prayers about to be said
Turns on the quick and the dead, and the man on the stair
To-night shall find no dying but alive and warm
In the fire of his care his love in the high room.
And the child not caring to whom he climbs his prayer
Shall drown in a grief as deep as his made grave,
And mark the dark eyed wave, through the eyes of sleep,
Dragging him up the stairs to one who lies dead.
poem by Dylan Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Defying Gravity
By: jesse winchester
1975
I live on a big round ball
I never do dream I may fall
And even one day if I do
Well Ill jump up and smile back at you
I dont even know where we are
They tell me were circlin a star
Well Ill take their word I dont know
But Im dizzy so it may be so
Im riding a big round ball
I never do dream I may fall
And even the high must lay low (even the high must lay low)
But when I do fall I will be glad to go
Yes when I do fall I will be glad to go
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great Oak Tree
There grew a little flower
'Neath a great oak tree:
When the tempest 'gan to lower
Little heeded she:
No need had she to cower,
For she dreaded not its power -
She was happy in the bower
Of her great oak tree!
Sing hey,
Lackaday!
Let the tears fall free
For the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!
When she found that he was fickle,
Was that great oak tree,
She was in a pretty pickle,
As she well might be -
But his gallantries were mickle,
For Death followed with his sickle,
And her tears began to trickle
For her great oak tree!
Sing hey,
Lackaday!
Let the tears fall free
For the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!
Said she, "He loved me never,
Did that great oak tree,
But I'm neither rich nor clever,
And so why should he?
But though fate our fortunes sever,
To be constant I'll endeavour,
Ay, for ever and for ever,
To my great oak tree!"
Sing hey,
Lackaday!
Let the tears fall free
For the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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High aims form high characters, and great objects bring out great minds.
quote by Tryon Edwards
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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