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Come, Here Is Adieu To The City
COME, here is adieu to the city
And hurrah for the country again.
The broad road lies before me
Watered with last night's rain.
The timbered country woos me
With many a high and bough;
And again in the shining fallows
The ploughman follows the plough.
The whole year's sweat and study,
And the whole year's sowing time,
Comes now to the perfect harvest,
And ripens now into rhyme.
For we that sow in the Autumn,
We reap our grain in the Spring,
And we that go sowing and weeping
Return to reap and sing.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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That Part Of A Whole
it is a tiny part
as tiny as a grain of sand
you hardly give it
attention
you keep on saying
what is in this grain of sand
that philosophers
say contain this universe
something so tiny
yet to contain everything
and so you hold the grain of sand
against the light
and revolve it around your fingers
little finger planets
to the sun grain of sand
you cannot believe what you
felt and saw
and so you throw away that grain
of sand to the air
eating it like a big mouthed monsters
you are lost
your world dissolves
like ice
you turn to air
and there you are
gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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After The Slow Slipping Of Self
grab your emptiness
like a handful of sand
in your hand
and let it spill there
grain after grain
after grain
until all is gone
away
slipping from
your fingers
then feel that
your hands
are still yours
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Who are These….
Sowing seeds, they go
Yes, sowing seeds they go
Seeds of separation, dissention
Seeds of wrath, hatred and lies
Seeds of discontent, envy
Ego, fanaticism, jealousy
Seeds of discrimination too
Yes, sowing seeds they go
Who are these, who go sowing!
Diligently from street to street
Sweet coating their hatred, bitterness
Hunger for power and dividing mind
In words so bombastic and loud
Wrapped so charmingly within
A thousand promises all false.
The elders dream of resurrection
Of Nehru, Gandhi and Patel of old
The younger ones fantasize
A new Messiah will be born
The ones in between follow the rut
Just close their eyes vote
And go about their work
Knowing at end whosoever rules
Prices will hike, Power electric will hide
Water contaminated or polluted be
Roads in disrepair always will remain
Taxes will always break our backs
And the system will never change!
poem by Angelina Pandian
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On the Road to Nowhere
On the road to nowhere
What wild oats did you sow
When you left your father's house
With your cheeks aglow?
Eyes so strained and eager
To see what you might see?
Were you thief or were you fool
Or most nobly free?
Were the tramp-days knightly,
True sowing of wild seed?
Did you dare to make the songs
Vanquished workmen need?
Did you waste much money
To deck a leper's feast?
Love the truth, defy the crowd
Scandalize the priest?
On the road to nowhere
What wild oats did you sow?
Stupids find the nowhere-road
Dusty, grim and slow.
Ere their sowing's ended
They turn them on their track,
Look at the caitiff craven wights
Repentant, hurrying back!
Grown ashamed of nowhere,
Of rags endured for years,
Lust for velvet in their hearts,
Pierced with Mammon's spears,
All but a few fanatics
Give up their darling goal,
Seek to be as others are,
Stultify the soul.
Reapings now confront them,
Glut them, or destroy,
Curious seeds, grain or weeds
Sown with awful joy.
Hurried is their harvest,
They make soft peace with men.
Pilgrims pass. They care not,
Will not tramp again.
O nowhere, golden nowhere!
Sages and fools go on
To your chaotic ocean,
To your tremendous dawn.
Far in your fair dream-haven,
Is nothing or is all...
They press on, singing, sowing
Wild deeds without recall!
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Dawn Of A New Day
The thoughts from yesterday - forgotten
I like the way this new skin feels
Bring me splinters of tomorrow
Collect the parts where I win
Against the grain, against the odds
I'll rise and I won't trip again
The dawn of a new day never looked
As good as this
Concrete breath and dust filled tears
A one-way ride to inner peace
I never thought, I'd join the others
Those who use the dice to solve
Against the grain, against the odds
I'll rise and I won't trip again (x2)
The dawn of a new day never looked
As good as this
Against the grain, against the odds
I'll rise and I won't trip again
Against the grain, against the odds
Against the grain, against the odds(x2)
I'll rise and I won't trip again
Against the grain, against the odds(x3)
song performed by by In Flames
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do not forget little kindnesses and do not remember small faults.
Write injuries in dust, But kindnesses in marble.
Write injuries in the sand, kindnesses in marble.
Men are more prone to revenge injuries than to requite kindnesses.
Injuries we write in marble, kindnesses in dust.
Paperback
' dust at the side of the road '
the story writes itself
in however how many pages it may take
it can feel your pulse-rate rise
and enters through your skin
it is a very fine dust
slides easy off the page
then grain by grain by grain
it burrows deeper in
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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A great many men's gratitude is nothing but a secret desire to hook in more valuable kindnesses hereafter.
quote by Francois de La Rochefoucauld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kindnesses are easily forgotten; but injuries! what worthy man does not keep those in mind?
quote by William Makepeace Thackeray
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grain Of Sand
I feel like Im walking on a mine
Im gonna leave it all behind
I feel like Im gaining my soul
While Im losing my mind
And I feel like I understand
And I feel like a grain of sand
Im gonna walk through that door
Im gonna see what its there for
cause all I ever want is your skin or your soul baby
But you couldnt give me either one of those
And I feel like I understand
And I feel like a grain of sand
And I feel like a grain of sand
You use to hold me like a flower
We used to talk for seven hours
I see the bigger picture now
And I feel like I understand
And I feel like a grain of sand
And I feel like a grain of sand
song performed by by Vonda Shepard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Write injuries in dust, But kindnesses in marble. [Fr., Eerivez les injures sue le sable, Mais les bienfaits sur le marbre.]
Increase in pay
I hear him humming
A song of increase in pay
The same tune he keeps on drumming
Day after day after day
'Increase in pay, ’ he says
'Increase in play, ' he says
Today his hair is whiter than grey
Thirteen increments of pay
But he still keeps on humming
The same tune he keeps on drumming
'Increase in pay, ’ he says
'Fewer hours, more power, ' he says
No more do they listen
Once they did when he glistened
Now they wait gently endlessly
Now they debate quietly mercilessly
'Delay the pay, ' they say
'Decrease the play, ' they say
Can't you see his hair has turned all grey?
Soon! Soon he shall only wither away!
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Licia Sonnets 34
Pale are my looks, forsaken of my life,
Cinders my bones, consume'd with thy flame,
Floods are my tears, to end this burning strife,
And yet I sigh for to increase the same;
I mourn alone because alone I burn;
Who doubts of this, then let him learn to love;
Her looks cold ice into a flame can turn,
As I distresséd in myself do prove.
Respect, fair Licia, what my torments are;
Count but the tithe both of my sighs and tears;
See how my love doth still increase my care,
And care's increase my life to nothing wears.
Send but a sigh my flame for to increase,
Or lend a tear and cause it so to cease.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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The industrialization of China alone would increase by 90 percent the concentration of CO2 in our atmosphere and would at least increase the atmospheric CO2 by at least another 100 parts per million.
quote by John Olver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But in the past, US companies have been able to increase their profits through downsizing in the US, through colonizing other people's resources, and through the increase of globalization.
quote by David Korten
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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