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Stolen waters are sweet, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant.
Stolen Moments
Because you were stillborn my little niece
The moment of me holding you in my arms for the first time has been stolen.
I’ll never have that moment of hearing you say my name that moment has also been stolen.
I’ll never feel your sweet kisses on my cheek or your hugs around my neck more stolen moments.
A lot of the special moments we would have shared have been stolen.
But I want you to know the moment of me loving you my little sweet angel was not.
The moment I knew of you; you stole my heart.
I’ll love you in this moment and every moment for the rest of my life.
This poem is dedicate in memory to my little niece who I passed away today 3/1/08. She was stillborn
Ho, everyone that thirsteth
Ho, everyone that thirsteth
And hath the price to give,
Come to the stolen waters,
Drink and your soul shall live.
Come to the stolen waters,
And leap the guarded pale,
And pull the flower in season
Before desire shall fail.
It shall not last for ever,
No more than earth and skies;
But he that drinks in season
Shall live before he dies.
June suns, you cannot store them
To warm the winter's cold,
The lad that hopes for heaven
Shall fill his mouth with mold.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stolen Smile
Goodbye, Sweet smile
From a friendly face you emerge,
Destroyed by a frown so vile
And violently scourge
Goodbye, sweet smile
Welcome, idle eyes of mystery
Which drench a silent servile,
An aura of translucent misery
Goodbye, sweet smile
Goodbye, goodbye
From happy face you exile
Now fall into the shadow to die
In a cold morning’s guile
Distraught by a fixating need
To find a stolen smile
The very one I missed indeed
Fallen into the trident of Poseidon
Battled the hardship of the seven seas
Swam through the gorge of Caspian
Chilled by the wind avenging breeze
To eradicate my impassive stare
Caused by a stolen smile
The radiant glow that is too rare
A smile so worthwhile
Goodbye, sweet smile
Your years come to an end
Only the trail of your lifestyle
That frown has unexpectedly rend
Goodbye, goodbye my sweet smile
Welcome to an impassive stare
That has stolen my smile
That has stolen my irresistible glare
poem by Jhonny Jean
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Farewell
Of A Virginia Slave Mother To Her Daughters Sold Into Southern Bondage
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone.
Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings
Where the noisome insect stings
Where the fever demon strews
Poison with the falling dews
Where the sickly sunbeams glare
Through the hot and misty air;
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
There no mother's eye is near them,
There no mother's ear can hear them;
Never, when the torturing lash
Seams their back with many a gash
Shall a mother's kindness bless them
Or a mother's arms caress them.
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
Oh, when weary, sad, and slow,
From the fields at night they go
Faint with toil, and racked with pain
To their cheerless homes again,
There no brother's voice shall greet them
There no father's welcome meet them.
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
From the tree whose shadow lay
On their childhood's place of play;
From the cool sprmg where they drank;
Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank;
From the solemn house of prayer,
And the holy counsels there;
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
Toiling through the weary day,
And at night the spoiler's prey.
Oh, that they had earlier died,
Sleeping calmly, side by side,
Where the tyrant's power is o'er
And the fetter galls no more!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
From Virginia's hills and waters
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
By the holy love He beareth;
By the bruised reed He spareth;
Oh, may He, to whom alone
All their cruel wrongs are known,
Still their hope and refuge prove,
With a more than mother's love.
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Farewell of a Virginia Slave Mother
Of A Virginia Slave Mother To Her Daughters Sold Into Southern Bondage
Gone, gone, - sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone.
Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings
Where the noisome insect stings
Where the fever demon strews
Poison with the falling dews
Where the sickly sunbeams glare
Through the hot and misty air;
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
There no mother's eye is near them,
There no mother's ear can hear them;
Never, when the torturing lash
Seams their back with many a gash
Shall a mother's kindness bless them
Or a mother's arms caress them.
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
Oh, when weary, sad, and slow,
From the fields at night they go
Faint with toil, and racked with pain
To their cheerless homes again,
There no brother's voice shall greet them
There no father's welcome meet them.
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
From the tree whose shadow lay
On their childhood's place of play;
From the cool spring where they drank;
Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank;
From the solemn house of prayer,
And the holy counsels there;
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
Toiling through the weary day,
And at night the spoiler's prey.
Oh, that they had earlier died,
Sleeping calmly, side by side,
Where the tyrant's power is o'er
And the fetter galls no more!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
From Virginia's hills and waters
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
By the holy love He beareth;
By the bruised reed He spareth;
Oh, may He, to whom alone
All their cruel wrongs are known,
Still their hope and refuge prove,
With a more than mother's love.
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fairy Song
We the fairies blithe and antic,
Of Dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us,
Stolen sweets are always sweeter;
Stolen kisses much completer;
Stolen looks are nice in chapels;
Stolen, stolen be your apples.
When to bed the world are bobbing,
Then's the time to go orchard robbing;
Yet the fruit were scarce worth peeling
Were it not for stealing, stealing.
poem by Thomas Randolph
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song of Fairies Robbing an Orchard
We, the Fairies, blithe and antic,
Of dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us.
Stolen sweets are always sweeter,
Stolen kisses much completer,
Stolen looks are nice in chapels,
Stolen, stolen, be your apples.
When to bed the world are bobbing,
Then's the time for orchard-robbing;
Yet the fruit were scarce worth peeling,
Were it not for stealing, stealing.
poem by James Henry Leigh Hunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stolen
Let truth be told
Until its sold
Silence is golden
Too bad its all been stolen
Stolen! stolen! stolen!
Our defense is your defense
Your defense in some sense
Some sensless way unfolded
Folded cause its all been stolen
Stolen! stolen! stolen!
The gilded scale was burning
Just as your back was turning
Just as our trust was leaving
Youd have us all believing
These truths we hold
Self-evident
Bought and sold
The more you hunt the more I sing
Then quickly rewrite everything
Truth returns bloated, swollen
Then dissapears - its been stolen!
Stolen!
The gilded scale was burning
Just as your back was turning
Just as our trust was leaving
Youd have us all believing
These truths we hold
Self-evident
Bought and sold
Its all been stolen! [x2]
song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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O great golden head lie in my lap
O great golden head lie in my lap,
Sweet, sweet, lie there.
Sleep and I'll watch thee lest evil behap.
Sweet, sweet and fair.
O great golden head lie on my breast,
Sleep, sleep thou there,
Who in thy beauty hast stolen my rest,
Sweet, sweet and fair.
poem by Lesbia Harford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christmas Cards
Every christmas card I write
Every christmas card I write
Has been stolen
Has been stolen
Every christmas card I write has been stolen
Every christmas card I write has been stolen
Every christmas card I write has been stolen
Has been stolen
Has been stolen
Every christmas card I write has been stolen
Stolen
Has been stolen
Every christmas card I write
On the little desk in the corner of my room
I find stolen the next day
I find stolen the next day
All of the christmas cards I write
Become stolen the next day
From my room
In my little desk in the corner of my room
Every christmas card I write
Is stolen
Is stolen
Every christmas card I write
Been stolen
From the little desk in the corner of my room
Its been stolen
Every day
Every christmas card I write
Has been stolen from my desk
I dont know why
Its been stolen
Its been stolen
Stolen
Stolen
Stolen
Stolen
Stolen
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The last two elections were stolen. They were stolen and so we will not rest until we reclaim our democracy and this is what today is all about.
quote by Barbara Lee
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I justified my act
Having known in the literary circle
That what I have stolen from him
Had itself been a stolen one,
I ceased feeling guilt of my act
26.02.2008.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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RedRum
The dagger slips through the skin
You know that you will win
Oh sweet red rum
The blood drips to the ground
You are careful to make not a sound
Oh sweet red rum
The feeling inside; of hate
By the time they come it will be too late
Oh sweet red rum
The body is still in your hold
You feel the skin go cold
Oh sweet red rum
Again you have stolen life
With the same red tinted knife
Oh sweet red rum
You feel hate no longer, your heart fills with sorrow
For you there will be no tomorrow
Oh sweet red rum
The dagger slips through your skin
You know the knife will always win
Oh sweet red rum
Your blood drips to the ground
You shall not make a sound
Oh sweet red rum
Feeling inside is no longer
For you are no longer
Oh sweet red rum
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I asked a man in prison once how he happened to be there and he said he had stolen a pair of shoes. I told him if he had stolen a railroad he would be a United States Senator.
quote by Mary Harris Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stolen Innocence
Her face is beauty
Yet marred by the pain in her eyes.
The tears she sheds
Fall to the ground
Like liquid diamonds
And shatter there alone.
And I cry for her
Stolen Innocence.
Tis a beautiful thing,
The raw purity of
Innocence in Youthful Bloom.
It's meant to last forever.
Meant to eternally bless those
Endowed with such a gift.
But when choice is stolen
And Beauty turns to Brokenness
I weep for its
Stolen Innocence.
poem by Sunny Grace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Brin
Brin, let me feel you in my arms of love again;
And on my sweet bed of love,
For you are all that makes me feel real again!
Oh my sweet love,
Your heart is now stolen away by someone else;
But, i will fight hard to get you back again.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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