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Truly, Truly, This Is The End
They say deaths an open door
Into another room
Within the city of the dead
(Our New Kingdom)
They say we walk like dreams
Sharing the same breath
Seeing through the same eyes
(A collective spirit)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
They say the Earth it gives no peace
Nor does it take away
We all survive the grave
(Unfortunate eternal)
They say that in times past
A king walked in the sky
Until dethroned by man
(Tribe of Judas)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
Truly, truly, this is the end
Truly, truly, this is the end
Truly, truly, this is the end
Truly, truly, this is the end
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
This is the end
song performed by by Zao
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To sin offers repentance and forgiveness; not to sin offers only punishment.
quote by Jose Bergamin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Grave
The grave that they dug him had flowers
Gathered from the hillsides in bright summer colors,
And the brown earth bleached white at the edge of his gravestone.
Hes gone.
When the wars of our nation did beckon,
A man barely twenty did answer the calling.
Proud of the trust that he placed in our nation,
Hes gone,
But eternity knows him, and it knows what weve done.
And the rain fell like pearls on the leaves of the flowers
Leaving brown, muddy clay where the earth had been dry.
And deep in the trench he waited for hours,
As he held to his rifle and prayed not to die.
But the silence of night was shattered by fire
As guns and grenades blasted sharp through the air.
And one after another his comrades were slaughtered.
In morgue of marines, alone standing there.
He crouched ever lower, ever lower with fear.
They cant let me die! the cant let me die here!
Ill cover myself with the mud and the earth.
Ill cover myself! I know Im not brave!
The earth! the earth! the earth is my grave.
The grave that they dug him had flowers
Gathered from the hillsides in bright summer colors,
And the brown earth bleached white at the edge of his gravestone.
Hes gone.
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You write for you.
To write: it offers self discovery.
Catharsis: it offers creative satisfaction.
Forget about if your work is accepted.
You enrich yourself; it is your credit.
2509.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Murrow Turning Over In His Grave
All the sainted sinners
They pay handsomely
And eventually?
They make the weapons
And they run the prisons
And they sell the justice
Cause being guilty is
Just good business
And well be standing on
The borderline
Aint no one there gonna
Stop it now
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Better watch out
Murrow turning over in his grave
Hes gonna turn wild
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Better watch out
Murrow turning over in his grave
Hes gonna run wild
Half-closed eyes
And the countrys deadly
Do you feel the ooze as your brain drains out
From your pneumatic drills and sharpening knives
Blood in the sky
Are you dead or alive?
All the restless people and the bitter green
Well it fakes this gold, makes the spirit mean
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Better watch out
Murrow turning over in his grave
Hes gonna turn wild
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Better watch out
Murrow turning over in his grave
Hes gonna run wild
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Conclusion
EVEN such is Time, that takes in trust
Our youth, our joys, our all we have,
And pays us but with earth and dust;
Who in the dark and silent grave,
When we have wander'd all our ways,
Shuts up the story of our days;
But from this earth, this grave, this dust,
My God shall raise me up, I trust.
poem by Sir Walter Raleigh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Safe Haven
My ears hear thy words
My sails capture thy wind
My mind thou bewilders
My heart offers respite
My soul offers shelter
My spirit knows only truth
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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He Is Risen #2 (Bible Poems for Children)
Now in the sixth hour darkness
filled the earth, in the ninth
hour, JESUS cried in a loud
voice, 'MY GOD, MY GOD why
hath thou forsaken me
Crying again, he yielded to
death and the grave. As the
end of the sabbath began to
dawn, toward the first day
of the week.
The two Marys brought spices
to the place where JESUS lay.
There was great earth-quake.
This world trembled on it's axis,
Darkness covered the land.
A loud voice from heaven rumbled
throughout this earth.
'COME FORTH, COME FORTH'
the grave belched, gave way, the
SON OF GOD, stood up and
walked away.
The grave could not contain him.
He had defeated death and hell.
He had risen to live forever in
our hearts.
An angel of the Lord appeared
from heaven. His countenance
alike to lightening, his raiment
white as snow.Speaking in a
loud voice, He has risen, he is
not here. He lives forever more.
Sitting now on the right hand throne
of GOD..
Because he lives I can face tomorrow.
poem by Heather Burns
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When I die
When Michael or Gabriel
comes for me
do not write
RIP on my grave
or leave a rousing poem
and just let me be me.
When I die let me lie,
in a humble
piece of earth.
When I rise I will see
the Creator
with my own eyes
and this earth,
will only be
like a bed to me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Epitaph
Even such is time, which takes in trust
Our youth, our joys, and all we have,
And pays us but with age and dust,
Who in the dark and silent grave
When we have wandered all our ways
Shuts up the story of our days,
And from which earth, and grave, and dust
The Lord will raise me up, I trust.
poem by Sir Walter Raleigh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Even Such Is Time
Even such is time, which takes in trust
Our youth, our joys, and all we have,
And pays us but with age and dust,
Who in the dark and silent grave
When we have wandered all our ways
Shuts up the story of our days,
And from which earth, and grave, and dust
The Lord will raise me up, I trust.
poem by Sir Walter Raleigh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The dissident does not operate in the realm of genuine power at all. He is not seeking power. He has no desire for office and does not gather votes. He does not attempt to charm the public, he offers nothing and promises nothing. He can offer, if anything, only his own skin — and he offers it solely because he has no other way of affirming the truth he stands for. His actions simply articulate his dignity as a citizen, regardless of the cost.
quote by Vaclav Havel
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sir Walter Raleigh (The night before his death)
Even such is time, which takes in trust
Our youth, our joys, and all we have,
And pays us nought but age and dust;
Which in the dark and silent grave,
When we have wandered all our ways,
Shuts up the story of our days!
And from which grave, and earth, and dust,
The Lord shall raise me up, I trust.'
poem by Sir Walter Raleigh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lelek To Me Forvever / Lelek Meni Zauvijek
Who took away from me, my son
To mourn above your grave, my son
To go below with you, my son
To reach the sky with a tear, my son
To spill a cloud from my breasts, my son
To open the heaven's door with a cry, my son
For you a heaven to enter, my son
To curse with a curse
To burn with a thunder, my son
I swear with a thunder in the wing of rain, my son
Made of my milk from my breasts, my son
Lelek lelek to me forever, my son
Lelek to me forever
Cut from breasts with empty hands I stand, my son
In drops I pour in clouds I'm hidden, my son
With bread in my mouth a bitter piece, my son
A cradle rocking in a grave, my son
Feed the earth with earth a grian of my pain, my son
Armfuls of sobs on fire to burn, my son
May the dawn freeze and outbreak halt, my son
Lelek lelek to me forever, my son
Lelek to me forever
I let my hair loose, my son
I tore my plaits, my son
Better to be in your grave, my son
Than to sleep with a stone on my chest, my son
Lelek lelek to me forever, my son
Lelek to me forever
Oh why did I deliver you at all, my son
Under this ruthless sky, my son
Your eyes dead to see, my son
Your hands dead to cross, my son
Your hair dead to caress, my son
Your cheek cold to kiss, my son
The sky will break from my pain, my son
The earth will open from my pain, my son
Swallow everything living in pain, my son
Into the black earth with my pain, my son
Lelek lelek to me forever, my son
Lelek to me forever
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only The Bowl!
i am only the bowl!
i am not the rice.
i am not the fire.
i am not the rain,
nor the sun that gave.
i am not the fertile earth.
i am not the human hands
that gathered, that prepared...
i am not even the hand that offers.
i am not the table, not the chair,
i am not the spoon.
when day is done,
and my place is known...
i am only the bowl!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Lick Your Fingers Clean
Lick your Ill see you at the weighing in
When your lifes sum-totals made.
And you set your wealth in godly deeds
Against the sins youve laid.
So place your final burden
On your hard-pressed next of kin:
Send the chamber pot back down the line
To be filled up again.
Take your mind off your election
And try to get it straight.
And dont pretend perfection ---
Youll be crucified too late.
And hell say you really should make the deal
As he offers round the hat.
Well, youd better lick your fingers clean, I thank you all for that.
And as you join the good ship earth
And you mingle with the dust
Be sure to leave your underpants
With someone you can trust.
And the hard-headed social worker who bathes his hands in blood
Will welcome you with arms held high
And cover you with mud.
And hell say you really should make the deal
As he offers round the hat.
Well, youd better lick your fingers clean, I thank you all for that.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mayor Of The Town
at first he offers you a basket of bread
perhaps he knows that you are hungry not having eaten for a day
you touch one, tear it, and have yourself a fill
it is fine
you exchange ideas
laugh at matters which both of you think funny
he offers a drink and you take a glass
thinking that this guy must be sincere in helping you away from hunger and thirst
you sleep soundly the whole night
and the following morning he comes to you again
bringing some strings and you think this must be a way to
strengthen bonds
then he speaks about a puppet and you do not like it
and he burst into anger
that is the end of the political affair
you do not want to be that puppet on a string.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The New World
THE NIGHT that has no star lit up by God,
The day that round men shines who still are blind,
The earth their grave-turned feet for ages trod,
And sea swept over by His mighty wind,
All these have passed away, the melting dream
That flitted o’er the sleeper’s half-shut eye,
When touched by morning’s golden-darting beam;
And he beholds around the earth and sky
That ever real stands, the rolling shores
And heaving billows of the boundless main,
That show, though time is past, no trace of years.
And earth restored he sees as his again,
The earth that fades not and the heavens that stand,
Their strong foundations laid by God’s right hand.
poem by Jones Very
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Fall of Usher
An elegy on Edgar Allan Poe
"Thou wert the Morning Star among the living,
Ere thy fair light had fled;
But, having died, thou art like Hesperus giving
New splendor to the dead." - Plato's Aster.
"Thou art gone to the grave!" but thy spirit is shining,
And singing afar in the Realms of the Blest ;
While the living are left by thy cold grave reclining,
And mourning for thee while they long for thy rest---
Left mourning for thee while they long for thy rest!
"Thou art gone to the grave!" thou art gone where thy slumber
No more shall be broken by sorrow or pain---
Soon to rise with that host which no mortal can number,
To lie down no more in that Valley again!
No more to lie down in that Valley again!
"Thou art gone to the grave!" there is none can restore thee,
Or bring thee again from that Silent Abode !
But the Conqueror of Death went to dwell there before thee,
And He has prepared thee the way to thy God!
Prepared thee the way to thy Beautiful God !
"Thou art gone to the grave!" thou art silently sleeping
A sleep which no sorrow shall ever molest;
And, in longing for which, my poor heart now is keeping
This silent lament in its grave in my breast!
Like Shelley for Keats, in its grave in my breast!
"Thou art gone to the grave!" let the dark Weeping Willow
Bend over thy grave where thy beauty was laid!
While thy form, thus reclined on the earth for its pillow,
Shall live in the Spring-flowers which bloom at thy head---
To feed the young Butterflies born at thy head.
"Thou art gone to the grave!" where the Violets are springing,
And feeding upon thee above the damp sod,
Now thy Pandemos mourns, while thy spirit is singing,
And drinking delight from the Fountains of God ---
With thine Ullalume lost from the Fountains of God.
poem by Thomas Holley Chivers
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Wicked
Born wicked, but covered in blood, from the saving fountain above,
A fountain that flows from Calvary, to save a wicked sinner like me;
Born separated, right from my birth, as a lost sinner upon this earth,
Separated from God up above, who reached down with saving love.
God sent to us a cleansing flood, through His Son’s precious blood,
A flood which covered all the earth, affording all men a spiritual birth,
To every soul, within every nation, God offers in Christ His Salvation,
And to every sinner God offers life, through The Savior, Jesus Christ.
Dark and wicked down to my heart, but, God gave to me a new start,
Bringing me to Calvary’s Cross, He began to purge my wicked dross,
My Lord as Savior I came to know, said He’d make me white as snow,
As red as scarlet, my sin may be, I’m washed in The Blood of Calvary.
Dead in sin, I was spiritually lost, But, The Lord God, paid all the cost,
For all my sin and its punishment, through His Only Son, He had sent,
When on God’s Son my sin was laid, full payment for my sin He paid,
The Son bore all my wickedness, and gave to me, His Righteousness.
Though wicked and vile to the core, when on the cross my sin He bore,
God’s forgiveness was sent my way, and I stand in Jesus Christ today,
Now when God looks down on me, it is the Blood of Christ He will see,
The Blood which truly sets me apart, now that Christ dwells in my heart.
(Copyright ©12/2010)