The tongue is more to be feared than the sword.
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Sonnet: The Tongue
Tongue, the muscle belly in the mouth’s floor!
That grandmothers used to narrate folklore;
With sensors to taste the food that we eat,
And speak fluently with neighbors who cheat.
The boneless tongue gives creatures satiety;
In misdemeanor, speaks words so nasty;
The tongue-tied man cannot speak out too well;
The one with a long tongue argues like hell.
The tongue can emit both a soothing word,
And also cut like a double-edged sword;
The tongue helps one to sing a sweet song,
And touch one’s nose-tip whenever too long.
The tongue can start a war or conclude it;
Some stars use it for their kissing habit.
poem by John Celes
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Spirit Fear.
I look with half unfriendly eyes
Into the casual eyes I meet,
As if my spirit feared surprise,
Dim-memoried with some old defeat.
In a far life it may be, when
It breathed in a monastic cell,
And found a fallacy in men
More sad than any tongue can tell
Or flashing in a warrior's fame
A sword for friendship fiercely drew
But turned to dust an honored name
And made life's mead a bitter brew.
And still like an ancestral stain
The memory on the spirit lies,
And still it fears to meet again
The light of those accusing eyes
poem by Robert Crawford
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Tongues
the tongue
of my body
is in the nerves
the tongue
of my soul
in the heart
the tongue of
my mind
in the head
the tongue
of truth and deceits
in the mouth
the tongue of
the World (Creation)
in the words
of God
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The tongue of woman is her sword, which never rusts.
A woman's tongue is her sword, and she does not let it rust.
The only sword that never rests is the tongue of a woman.
Sword Of Mine
The Sword that I carry
Though made not of iron or steel,
It is a mighty sword
That I proudly do so wield.
Though it wont break the skin
Or combat the weapons of a foe
But this is a mighty sword of mine
More precious than silver or gold.
This sword that I carry
I proudly display it in my hand,
For I know this sword of mine
Is greater, than any other mans.
It comforts me when I am tired
It will warm me when I am cold
It will lie down beside of me
To protect, and strengthen my soul.
The sword that I hold
Is tattered, and so very worn
It has been a friend along side of me,
In the sunshine and many storms.
It has shown me a path to follow
And has lit the road that I walk,
And those nights when I was alone and scared
Then to me, I could hear it talk.
The sword that I wield
Though may be different, in shape or size,
But it is the same sword
Which for years has cushioned the souls cry.
It has been here since the dawn of time
And will be here when the great walls fall,
And then when all men of war and hate reflect,
My sword, will be the mightiest sword of all.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Beware of one with a honeyed tongue and a sword in the belly.
The tongue of a woman is the sword that is never allowed to rust.
No sword bites so fiercly as an evil tongue.
quote by Philip Sidney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On The Vanity Of Earthly Greatness
The tusks which clashed in mighty brawls
Of mastodons, are billiard balls.
The sword of Charlemagne the Just
Is Ferric Oxide, known as rust.
The grizzly bear, whose potent hug,
Was feared by all, is now a rug.
Great Caesar's bust is on the shelf,
And I don't feel so well myself.
poem by Arthur Guiterman
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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People always fear change. People feared electricity when it was invented, didn't they? People feared coal, they feared gas-powered engines... There will always be ignorance, and ignorance leads to fear. But with time, people will come to accept their silicon masters.
quote by Bill Gates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I saw that all things I feared, and which feared me, had nothing good or bad in them save insofar as the mind was affected by them.
Goodness is with you
Goodness is with you
As you know
O my dear
What ought to be done
What ought not to be done
What is to be feared
What is not to be feared
What is binding and
What is liberating.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Loves sword sharp tongue
How can you carve up my soul?
With such blunt words
haiku by Ken e Hall
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Anticipation
I have been temperate always,
But I am like to be very drunk
With your coming.
There have been times
I feared to walk down the street
Lest I should reel with the wine of you,
And jerk against my neighbours
As they go by.
I am parched now, and my tongue is horrible in my mouth,
But my brain is noisy
With the clash and gurgle of filling wine-cups.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Alexander The Great: Ancient World Conquest
Alexander pure will lion strength light skin
blond hair with one eye dark as pitch night
one melting blue as sweeping horizon sky
a sweet natural fragrance born in his body
so strong smelling it perfumed his clothes
illuminating action glory not pleasure wealth
burning fame was intense flame his passion
Alexander the Great
a Macedonian king conquered
Ancient Greece, Persia, Egypt
conquered into western India feared
by a whole civilized known world
driven by a supposedly
divine ambition world conquest
creation of universal world monarchy
Alexander conquered by tyrant sword
Greek states feared his cruelty
despotic enigma godlike Alexander III of Macedon
poem by Terence George Craddock
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He Entered Into Battle With A Blunt Edged Sword
He entered into battle with a blunt edged sword,
But he did not know quite why.
His sword selection was done without motive,
To battle and kill his fellow man.
So subconsciously he picked out this sword.
This sword not of this world, not out to cut to bleed.
But this innocent man didn't wish to realize,
What prize he would pay.
In midst of this battle, recieving the swiftest,
Blows from his enemy,
This soldier just kept getting hurt.
Five, six and seven more blows made him hit back,
This soldier proudly used his blunt sword,
Till his nemesis bearing a razor sharp one,
Came along and challenged the already fallen one,
Who gave a swift plunge into his enemy's heart.
But the enemy did not stagger or fall.
Neither did the soldier with the blunt sword.
This soldier's enemy left the battleground,
When he saw that the one with the blunt sword,
Knew all along the possibility of his death.
Still he fought, so he himself could die,
Which the other soldier was saddened by that man's stance.
He told that man, 'if we all fought battles with a blunt
sword,
Then we would all truly win,
For the battleground would know no mortality.
He further told him, 'because of you, your side
Truly wins. But so does our.
We love you,
Blunt edged sword soldier man.'
poem by Vera Sidhwa
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Wired For Sound
Words & music: michael w. smith and wayne kirkpatrick
Chorus:
Word of mouth is the counselor
There is no need for proof
In a world thats wired for sound
The tongue becomes the mighty sword
That battles the truth
In a world thats wired for sound
Comin on like a tidal wave
That washes thru the brain--a state of mind
No dispute when the noise is made
And so it lets the blind lead the blind
Lured by charisma to be swayed to believe
Chorus
Easier believing what is hard to get rid of than to try
Never searching--just accepting
Feeds the mind enough to get you by
Scratching the surface yet to dig deeper down
Chorus:
Word of mouth is the counselor
There is no need for proof
In a world thats wired for sound
The tongue becomes the mighty sword
That battles the truth
In a world thats wired for sound
Wisdom from the sacred page
Is turned and ignored
In a world thats wired for sound
Chorus
song performed by by Michael W. Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Hymn
O God of earth and altar,
Bow down and hear our cry,
Our earthly rulers falter,
Our people drift and die;
The walls of gold entomb us,
The swords of scorn divide,
Take not thy thunder from us,
But take away our pride.
From all that terror teaches,
From lies of tongue and pen,
From all the easy speeches
That comfort cruel men,
From sale and profanation
Of honour and the sword,
From sleep and from damnation,
Deliver us, good Lord.
Tie in a living tether
The prince and priest and thrall,
Bind all our lives together,
Smite us and save us all;
In ire and exultation
Aflame with faith, and free,
Lift up a living nation,
A single sword to thee.
poem by G.K. Chesterton (1906)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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