We have been through this is biennial convulsion four or five different times over the past 10 or 12 years, and now it appears that we are going through this quiet agony all over again.
quote by Everett Dirksen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Myriad Thoughts
I sit here in myriad thoughts
dancing around my head
too fed up to put them to bed.
Thoughts of the past,
thoughts of the future too,
thoughts of things this and that
and thoughts of what to do.
Memories invade at times
of pastures long gone by
as the myriad thoughts
fill my mind with anger and with love
and times; I wish I could have lingered with
when my years were young.
Things pass in phases,
hearts entwine then fall apart,
seasons readily appear,
stay awhile and then depart.
Here I sit in a lonely waste
thinking thoughts of what might have been
if the crystal ball I look into had only seen.
Now the myriad thoughts appear
to haunt me in quiet times
and carry me to distant places
the world has left behind.
Those little specks of moments
that still linger from the past
that lay waiting to capture me
before the quiet time has passed.
28 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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Faces Of My Past
Just lately for some reason
faces of old, friends
who have passed away
flicker across my memory
constantly day after day.
Sometimes I even dream of them.
Holding conversations
with them there.
I know of late that I’ve been
feeling lonely within myself.
It could be the past
I yean for once more.
A past unattainable,
something that has gone forever.
The more I think of it,
the more the faces I see.
In quiet moments I sit
like I’ve always done
and try to concentrate,
but the faces of the past
begin to reappear again.
It would seem like
the past doesn’t want to let me go
and times then races by.
Before you know, the quiet space
has all but gone.
21 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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What I Really Needed
so sorry, let me be candid,
what i need, is, not you,
you are here already,
what can i do? at times
i need the past, talk to it,
and feel the home that was,
but past is past, the dead
sleeps with the dead, and
there is no waking up, you see,
and so i try to embrace
the future, but it was too young
then and not prepared to
understand, and i take the quiet
and the lotus
positioning of the man
refusing to be lost
on a train of thought
into oblivion, i want to quit,
but you know i can't,
we have a house and a farm,
an apartment and a brand
new car, we have a life,
we have learned this hate and
love and hate and love,
this i can never leave without you
script, sans the aria, and the
long breaths, the notes of
agony dissolving
over the brilliance of
the sparkles of wine.
what i need, i must agree,
is here, and it is you
still.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In Shakespearean tragedy the main source of the convulsion which produces suffering and death is never good: good contributes to this convulsion only from its tragic implication with its opposite in one and the same character.
quote by Andrew Coyle Bradley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A.d. 19—?
AS in some quiet city bathed in sleep,
Where like a kiss the twilight lingereth,
When suddenly the earth stirs far beneath—
Just moves, then pauses—and a silence deep
Falls on all ere the second shock should sweep
Spire, column, pinnacle to shapeless death!
And white face peers at white face, and no breath
Is drawn, and every heart forgets to leap!
So now across this quiet, dreaming world
The first faint shock has thrilled; and men, aghast,
Wait for the second, whose blind forces pent
Shall in one last convulsion find their vent;
And all the builded fabrics of the past
Shall be in ruins on their builders hurled.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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I like a look of Agony
241
I like a look of Agony,
Because I know it's true—
Men do not sham Convulsion,
Nor simulate, a Throe—
The Eyes glaze once—and that is Death—
Impossible to feign
The Beads upon the Forehead
By homely Anguish strung.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Just Passing Time
Passing time,
Time passes.
And longing for times past.
With no pastime,
I think of past times.
Times of joy.
Sorrowful times.
Layered.
Like an alluvial plain,
I am inundated, flooded.
As the past floods in
Passing by the inner eye
I time travel.
Bad thoughts by passed
Passed all thought
They pass away.
Pass into the past
To lie again quiescent
A timely demise
For times past.
Copyright P H Brookes 20012
poem by Paul Brookes
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An Isn't...Is!
An isn't...
Is!
When that isn't...
Appears.
An isn't...
Is!
When that isn't...
Appears.
Cheating spouses,
Who run about...
To play a cat and mouse,
Out of the house.
Often lie,
When they can...
To hide unfaithfulness from eyes that scan.
But that isn't...
Is!
When that isn't appears.
Oh yes that isn't,
Is...
When that isn't appears!
Those downlow and attempting discreet...
Play it cheap,
While sneaking under sheets.
Be they lesbians or homos too,
Cruising darkened streets to do what they do...
To hide an isn't...
That is!
When they say what isn't,
Appears.
Oh yes that isn't,
Is...
When that isn't appears!
You can say that isn't,
Is!
When that isn't,
Appears!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Reborn...
Alone in a quiet dark space I sit
My arms wrapped around my nakedness
Surveying my hopes, my dreams and all I have become
My thoughts lay broken like the shards of a shattered mirror
Surrounding me in a sea of fractured hope
Afraid my mind might splinter from the agony
Yet the pain subsides, the agony lessens
Like a jigsaw I reassemble all the pieces
The agony and pain turn to hope and joy
All of my wounds healed I pick myself up from the floor
Like a phoenix rising from the ashes
Grazed and scarred, yet far stronger than before
Mind at ease, heart healed, tortured soul at rest
I am stronger, and ready to face the challenges of life...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
No matter how many times life knocks us down,
we are pre-programmed to get up and carry on...
It is quite simply what makes us so unique...
The challenges of life can only make us stronger...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Wonderland
Would you come and look around
See the motion and circle round
Feel it whirl through the fields
All the years we wandered about
And let our youth strip us out
Now lock up the door to indignation
As all appears to recover
(would you come-look around-see the motion-circle round)
All appears to recover
(all the years we wandered about-let our youth-strip us out-come with me)
Here we are in wonder left with all left to discover
Will you stay watch by me
As all appears to recover
(would you come-look around-see the motion-circle round)
All appears to recover
(all the years we wandered about-let our youth-strip us out-come with me-break out)
As all appears to recover
(would you come-look around-see the motion-circle round)
All appears to recover
(all the years we wandered about-let our youth-strip us out-come with me-break out)
All appears to discover
(see the motion-circle round-come with me-break out
song performed by by Xymox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wonderland
Would you come and look around
See the motion and circle round
Feel it whirl through the fields
All the years we wandered about
And let our youth strip us out
Now lock up the door to indignation
As all appears to recover
(would you come-look around-see the motion-circle round)
All appears to recover
(all the years we wandered about-let our youth-strip us out-come with me)
Here we are in wonder left with all left to discover
Will you stay watch by me
As all appears to recover
(would you come-look around-see the motion-circle round)
All appears to recover
(all the years we wandered about-let our youth-strip us out-come with me-break out)
As all appears to recover
(would you come-look around-see the motion-circle round)
All appears to recover
(all the years we wandered about-let our youth-strip us out-come with me-break out)
All appears to discover
(see the motion-circle round-come with me-break out
song performed by by Xymox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Life’s Like This
At times, life appears too complex indeed;
At other times, it appears so simple;
And sometimes problems appear like a weed;
Which is best place to pray- home or temple?
And no one knows the ideal ways of life;
No one knows the road aright to take;
And no one knows how best to combat strife;
And no one knows the genuine from the fake.
But at times, we walk; sometimes, we tend to run;
Life’s mysteries, no one can ev’r fathom;
We keep going to be in rain or sun;
Some dreams come true; others remain phantom.
Realities of life, all will have to face;
Sometimes, we feel caught as if in a maze.
6-2-2002 by Dr John Celes
poem by John Celes
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Voice Of America
(from the b-side of the single in the shape of a heart; peformed by jackson browne)
Little stevens version appears on his album of the same name.
Can you hear me? wake up!
Wheres the voice of america?
Somebody help me, we gotta stop a crime
I been betrayed by my own kind
I been quiet, too quiet
While across the borderline
We die
Can you hear me? wake up!
Wheres the voice of america?
I know that we knew right from wrong once upon a time
Everything we stood for has been compromised
I been quiet, too quiet
While across our borderline
My people lie
Can you hear me? wake up!
Wheres the voice of america?
Youre quiet, too quiet
Are you still alive
Inside
Can you hear me? wake up!
Were the voice of america
Were the voice of america
Were the voice of america
Were the voice of america
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Years Ago
The light of other days burns dim,
And in the shade is cast,
You'll own I'm right, if you will just
Look back upon the past;
It's glories all are faded,
And each of you must know
That times ain't what they used to be
About two years ago.
Bendigo, you know, my lads,
Was just then in its prime,
And those who happened to be here
Had a most glorious time;
But now its sadly altered,
And things are precious slow,
And times ain't what they used to be
About two years ago.
They opened Golden Gully then,
And we had many a lob,
To see the place so cut up now,
It really makes me sob:
When'eer I pass the fav'rite spot
It fills me full of woe,
Ah! times ain't what they used to was
About two years ago.
Just now look at the difference,
Ah! here's the dreadful rub,
They're washing for two pennyweights
To every blessed tub;
At such a paltry sum as that,
Why, all of us you know
Would have laughed and turned our noses up
About two years ago.
Two years ago, my lads, we used
To take our nuggets down,
Sell the lot, and go and have
A spree in Melbourne town;
We rode about in two-horse cabs,
And made the champagne flow,
And ate bank notes in sandwiches
About two years ago.
A sweetheart, then, on either arm
About the town we'd range,
And buy the dear things cashmere shawls,
And refuse to take the change;
Then to dancers at the theatre
Our nuggest we did throw,
Those were the glorious times, no flies,
About two years ago.
And when we'd quite run out of cash
We'd tramp back every mile,
And go to work again and get
Another tidy pile;
I ask you, can we do it now?
But, echo answers no;
Ah! times ai'nt what they used to was
About two years ago.
But after all, my lads, what use
Is there in vain regret,
No doubt some stunning golden piece
Of ground may turn up yet,
Then keep up all your peckers,
And let your spirits flow,
The good time yet may come again,
Just like two years ago.
poem by Charles Thatcher
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These Are The Days
Ah ah
Heres a song
About living in the past
If it was so good then
How come it didnt last?
If it helps you
Ill put it in a phrase
Those were the times
But these are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
The times youre smiling back on
Had that great sitcom
It hardly compensated
For the terror of the bomb
Let me help
cause youre looking through a haze
Those were the times
These are the days
These are the days
Hey hey hey
These are the days
Can you hear me now?
These are the days
Look around look around look around
These are the days
These are the days
Hey hey live today
These are the days
Its time to put the past away
These are the days
The more you do the more you say
These are the days
The more I need to get away
Youre longing for a time
There never was
Now tell me the truth
Youre looking for the reason
Its because
Youre fighting for youth
But if I have to listen any more
To fantasy talk
Or any other bug you have
Im leaving
Now Im not saying
Everything is really great
Hey hey hey
After sixteen years
Of legalised class hate
Why waste time
Looking back for things to praise?
Those were the times huh
But these are the days
These are the days
Looking back in history
These are the days
Time to get contempory
These are the days
The past is not the place to be
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everything is changeable, everything appears and disappears there is no blissful peace until one passes beyond the agony of life and death.
Jean Hickey
Jean Hickey than me is a few years older I knew her long before she met and married Ted O Shea
And she went to live in Finnanefield in Kilcorney from Inchaleigh in Millstreet five or six miles away
I have not seen her for years but her I will remember until the reaper gives the call to me
Good people like her one does not wish to forget and she did not fade from my memory.
Jean Hickey always is the quiet achiever the quiet achiever in her own quiet way
She has helped so many people in their times of illness though of her good deeds she never has much to say
A nurse who is devoted to her calling and in her kind heart there is only good
And people like her invaluable to society for she would only help you if she could.
In the year 06 she will retire as a District Nurse and from the call of duty she will have earned her rest
And it will take a special person to replace her for at her job she is one of the best
But as we know people do not last forever and retirement one day comes to one and all
Though Jean she played her part and in no small way and she was there to answer every call.
In the year 06 from Nursing she's retiring one well might say a rest she is overdue
Jean Hickey always is the quiet achiever and to the corporal works of mercy she is true
In her years as district nurse she has cared for many ill people and the story of her life ought to be told
And of this marvellous woman it can be said that she is truly worth her weight in gold.
poem by Francis Duggan
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To Mother
In the old Strauss waltz for the first time
We had listened to your quiet call,
Since then all the living things are alien
And the knocking of the clock consoles.
We, like you, are gladly greeting sunsets,
And are drunk on nearness of the end.
All, with which on better nights we're wealthy
Is put in the hearts by your own hand.
Bowing to a child's dreams with no tire.
(Only crescent looked in them indeed
Without you)! You have led your kids past
Bitter lifetime of the thoughts and deeds.
From the early age the sad one's close to us,
Laughter bores and home we left behind..
Our ship not in good times left the harbor
And it sails by will of every wind!
Azure isle of childhood is paling,
On the deck of ship we stand alone.
It appears, oh mother, to your daughters
You've left an inheritance of woe.
poem by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
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I Don't Know Where The Past Is Gone
I don’t know where the past is gone
I only know most of my own life is over-
I don’t know where the past has gone
I only know so many people I loved
Are no longer here and will never be here again-
I don’t know where the past has gone
I only know that that chance I had that hope for so many years
Can never be mine in the same way again-
I don’t know where the past has gone
So many moments of beauty and love and opportunity missed and longing unrealized-
I don’t know where the past has gone
And what of it I should miss
And why I should long for it so.
I don’t know where the past has gone
And where my life was lost and why I did not do better in it-
I don’t know where the past has gone
And what will be when for me
Everything is only the Past gone
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Hope...
I hope to fly away someday
So I can soar the blue skies
I hope to become one with nature
So I can understand the world a little better
I hope to make all my dreams come true
So that I may live a content life
I hope to grow old and gray
So that I can say,
'I lived through those times, back in my day.'
I hope to perish this world in quiet peace
So that I don't have to die in agony
poem by Starrbox Munoz
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