From too much love of living, From hope and fear set free, We thank with brief thanksgiving Whatever gods may be That no life lives for ever; That dead men rise up never; That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea.
quote by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Swan Song
We are not sure of sorrow,
And joy was never sure;
To-day will die tomorrow;
Time stoops to no man’s lure;
And love grown faint and fretful,
With lips but half regretful
Sighs, and with eyes forgetful
Weeps that no loves endure.
From too much love of living,
From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be
That no life lives for ever,
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Garden of Prosperine
Here, where the world is quiet,
Here, where all trouble seems
Dead winds' and spent waves' riot
In doubtful dreams of dreams;
I watch the green field growing
For reaping folk and sowing,
For harvest-time and mowing,
A sleepy world of streams.
I am tired of tears and laughter,
And men that laugh and weep;
Of what may come hereafter
For men that sow to reap:
I am weary of days and hours,
Blown buds of barren flowers,
Desires and dreams and powers
And everything but sleep.
Here life has death for neighbour,
And far from eye or ear
Wan waves and wet winds labour,
Weak ships and spirits steer;
They drive adrift, and whither
They wot not who make thither;
But no such winds blow hither,
And no such things grow here.
No growth of moor or coppice,
No heather-flower or vine,
But bloomless buds of poppies,
Green grapes of Proserpine,
Pale beds of blowing rushes,
Where no leaf blooms or blushes
Save this whereout she crushes
For dead men deadly wine.
Pale, without name or number,
In fruitless fields of corn,
They bow themselves and slumber
All night till light is born;
And like a soul belated,
In hell and heaven unmated,
By cloud and mist abated
Comes out of darkness morn.
Though one were strong as seven,
He too with death shall dwell,
Nor wake with wings in heaven,
Nor weep for pains in hell;
Though one were fair as roses,
His beauty clouds and closes;
And well though love reposes,
In the end it is not well.
Pale, beyond porch and portal,
Crowned with calm leaves, she stands
Who gathers all things mortal
With cold immortal hands;
Her languid lips are sweeter
Than love's who fears to greet her
To men that mix and meet her
From many times and lands.
She waits for each and other,
She waits for all men born;
Forgets the earth her mother,
The life of fruits and corn;
And spring and seed and swallow
Take wing for her and follow
Where summer song rings hollow
And flowers are put to scorn.
There go the loves that wither,
The old loves with wearier wings;
And all dead years draw thither,
And all disastrous things;
Dead dreams of days forsaken,
Blind buds that snows have shaken,
Wild leaves that winds have taken,
Red strays of ruined springs.
We are not sure of sorrow,
And joy was never sure;
Today will die tomorrow;
Time stoops to no man's lure;
And love, grown faint and fretful,
With lips but half regretful
Sighs, and with eyes forgetful
Weeps that no loves endure.
From too much love of living,
From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be That no life lives for ever;
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea.
Then star nor sun shall waken,
Nor any change of light:
Nor sound of waters shaken,
Nor any sound or sight:
Nor wintry leaves nor vernal,
Nor days nor things diurnal;
Only the sleep eternal
In an eternal night.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We Are Alive In The Moment Of Death
We are the nocturnal nightmares of fear induced
We are fear by which hope is reduced
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the board when your life is the game
We are as children hung from a rope
We are as children in fear of lost hope
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the board when your life is the game.
We are the silence of all that is night
We are the shadows scared of the light
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the parasite worms in your brain.
We are the killers of true passion in love
We are the angels of Hell’s mansion above
We are the wings upon which devils may fly
We are the fear and the tears that you cry
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the parasite worms in your brain.
We are the moon as we are the sun
We are the end and the story begun
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the board when your life is the game.
We are the children who beat you at school
We are the teachers that deem you a fool
We are the rotting as we are the fresh
We are alive in the moment of death.
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fears of a teenage mafioso
Fear of love,
Fear of pain,
Fear of the unforgiving cane,
Fear of lies,
Fear of sighs,
Fear of those distraught eyes,
Fear for the unknown,
Fear for the known,
Fear of everything combined,
Fear is what makes me blind,
Fear is what makes me think,
and act in blind accordance,
Hindering the world around me,
Hence, My Fear of myself
Fear is when you run away,
Fear is when you’re scared to love someone,
Fear is when the sky turns grey,
Fear of confusion,
Fear is like a dark blue ocean,
Fear won’t let me escape
Fear mocks me, watching
Fear taunts me, waiting
Fear of losing,
Fear you cannot see,
Fear dealt upon thee.
Fear of darkness and death,
Fear of a dead comrade,
Fear of a gun being cocked,
Fear of being endlessly stalked,
Fear of time,
Fear of all the crime,
Fear of the undesirable truth,
Fear for the good.
Fear for the sake of life,
Fear of the neighbors next door,
Fear of the secretive man in the subway,
Fear of the revolutionary uproar,
Fear is to not rejoice your living,
Fear for the sake of your life,
But to fear is to forsake it.
Fear is to have no hope in life,
Fear of the fear of fear,
We need no reason to fear,
For fear has no reason for itself.
I guess life is just like that,
To fear for no reason,
For to fear is not to reason,
But to reason is to fear.
To fear for the sake of fear,
Is fear for fear,
So let me think,
What else do I fear?
What else do I fear?
What else do I fear?
poem by David daveres
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Thanksgiving
happy thanksgiving to all poets and poetesses
this is my thanksgiving wish
hope you are enjoying a favourite dish
with family and friends
if family can't make it, then please phone
for all my family who have passed on
especially to my mom, who is not living
thanks for my life and all the love given
i miss you sadly - but for you
i know this thanksgiving
your happiness is endless
the grand feast is in the company
of our lord and creator
it will be the most joyful for you
for this thought, i have faith is true
this faith is where my solace lies
poem by Rachel Nichols
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Free River
Free River flow, Free River
so cold, Free River
you’re getting old.
Free River don’t cry, Free River
you’ve run dry.
I still see you through my youth’s eyes.
Free River you told no lies, Free River
your path has been made, Free River
all things change.
Free River you made it to the sea.
The friends I swam with once
are now gone, left only me.
Free River you’re worth more than gold, Free River
I've grown old.
I’ve lived by you my whole life and
I’ve left my seed through my wife, Free River
I lie at your shore; now dry,
Free River it’s my time to die.
poem by Patrick Dumas
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Swirling to Hurl
Life...
Brings with it,
Mystery and miseries.
Some live entire lives,
In the state of denial and disbelief.
Confronting challenges,
With despair and grief.
Life...
Also is the wind.
Beginning gently...
And sometimes swirling to hurl,
Devastation until it ends.
And it does!
To reveal much change before our eyes.
Under the promise of Sun and clear skies.
Rising hope with faith connected.
Life...
Is a dance and song sung heard.
A step in the wrong direction...
Off the beat.
Off the mark.
Off of the rhythm that was there,
When a flair to feel free began!
None can play life safe.
None can detect to avoid what comes next in life.
When life starts the experience one has with it...
It will flow.
Just like the different winds upon us,
Life blows.
No lullabys come to soothe...
Those denying the naturalness of this rhythm,
One living life pursues.
No shoulder comes to quiet,
Those with constant fears.
No one seems to listen closely with attention.
Those with fears held dear.
Collectors of heartbreaks to keep as souvenirs.
This is not the life to like!
Or pretend..
Tears falling do not come from a sadness felt!
A sadness wished to end.
None can play life safe.
None can detect to avoid what comes next in life.
When life starts the experience one has with it...
It will flow.
Just like the different winds upon us,
Life blows.
Life...
Brings with it,
Mystery and miseries.
Some live entire lives,
In the state of denial and disbelief.
Confronting challenges,
With despair and grief.
When all things that life brings...
Breezing like the winds that do not stay.
And just as life is the experience lived.
We are the experiment,
That never stops evolving.
None can play life safe.
None can detect to avoid what comes next in life.
When life starts the experience one has with it...
It will flow.
Just like the different winds upon us,
Life blows.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Thanksgiving
(don henley/stan lynch/jai winding)
A lot of things have happened
Since the last time we spoke
Some of them are funny
Some of em aint no joke
And I trust you will forgive me
If I lay it on the line
I always thought you were a friend of mine
Sometimes I think about you
I wonder how youre doing now
And what youre going through
The last time I saw you
We were playing with fire
We were loaded with passion
And a burning desire
For every breath, for every day of living
And this is my thanksgiving
Now the trouble with you and me, my friend
Is the trouble with this nation
Too many blessings, too little appreciation
And I know that kind of notionwell, it just aint cool
So send me back to sunday school
Because Im tired of waiting for reason to arrive
Its too long weve been living
These unexamined lives
Ive got great expectations
Ive got family and friends
Ive got satisfying work
Ive got a back that bends
For every breath, for every day of living
This is my thanksgiving
Have you noticed that an angry man
Can only get so far
Until he reconciles the way he thinks things ought to be
With the way things are
Here in this fragmented world, I still believe
In learning how to give love, and how to receive it
And I would not be among those who abuse this privilege
Sometimes you get the best light from a burning bridge
And I dont mind saying that I still love it all
I wallowed in the springtime
Now Im welcoming the fall
For every moment of joy
Every hour of fear
For every winding road that brought me here
For every breath, for every day of living
This is my thanksgiving
For everyone who helped me start
And for everything that broke my heart
For every breath, for every day of living
This is my thanksgiving
song performed by by Don Henley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is our fundamental belief in the power of hope that has allowed us to rise above the voices of doubt and division, of anger and fear that we have faced in our own lives and in the life of this country. Our hope that if we work hard enough and believe in ourselves, then we can be whatever we dream, regardless of the limitations that others may place on us. The hope that when people see us for who we truly are, maybe, just maybe they, too, will be inspired to rise to their best possible selves.
quote by Michelle Obama
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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When I Think Of Myself As Dead
WHEN I THINK OF MYSELF AS DEAD
When I think of myself as dead
I think of what it will mean for my loved ones
I pray they will not lose heart and hope because of it-
When my father died my brother lost hope-
When I think of myself dead
I wonder about God and God�s purpose
Is there really an afterlife?
What could it mean?
Will I meet again those who have gone before me?
When I think of myself dead
I think about a body in the ground
Worms eating it, cold paining it-
When I think of myself as dead
I think about never feeling anything again-
When I think about myself as dead
I think about the work I have left behind
And whether it will mean anything to anyone
And for how long-
When I think of myself as dead
I think of all the memories that will go with me
I think about nothing and more nothing and the end of the universe-
When I think of myself as dead
I think of life going on down below
Life with all its beauty and pain
And I pray and I pray again
My loved ones will be able to manage and make their own lives still happy
When I think of myself as dead
I pray to G-d
That somehow in some way
It will not be the end for me forever.
When I think of myself as dead
I think of myself as living again somehow
In a way I cannot now know-
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Safe
[verse 1]
Here I am alone with You
Quietly I talk to You
You said the truth would set me free
So here I am surrendering
(pre-chorus)
I know I can let your promise be my hope
And I know until You take me home
[chorus]
I'm safe (I'm safe), safe 'cause You love me
Safe (I'm safe), safe all because Your name
Has power to calm the ocean
When everything changes I'm safe
[verse 2]
My heart is overflowing
With peace beyond all knowing
This love is deep, it shelters me
And I'm safe within Your reach
(pre-chorus)
I know I can let your promise be my hope
And I know until You take me home
[chorus]
I'm safe (I'm safe), safe 'cause You love me
Safe (I'm safe), safe all because Your name
Has power to calm the ocean
When everything changes I'm safe
[bridge]
Though the odds are stacked against me
Though I'm running out of time
My heart is breaking
But I know You are mine
So I let You see into me as
You hold me in Your hand
My heart is on my sleeve
I'm safe because You understand
You understand
[chorus]
I'm safe (I'm safe), safe 'cause You love me
Safe (I'm safe), safe all because Your name
Has power to calm the ocean
When everything changes I'm safe
song performed by by ZoeGirl
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Far Too Many Numbers They Rise (In Answer To Maya Angelou)
There are many facts in history
of people both ignorant and wise;
at times I look with incredulity
at how people multiply to rise
having as many children as they can do,
with diarrhoea, living in gloom,
with blown up bellies where food run through,
living in the very red-brown dirt in doom
without a look of hope in their eyes
where president-for-life dictators govern
with an iron rod, not hearing weakened cries,
while for civilization, for food they yearn;
where platinum, gold and copper mines
are sold to the Chinese, are from the country apart,
while parts of Africa goes into total decline
and to make a living is extremely hard.
Does this poem of mine offend you?
Unfortunately I do not deal in lies,
unfortunately these facts are very true
and to some people it’s no surprise
as AIDS, poverty, pestilence runs as a black tide
that comes in unstoppable waves of pain
from which very few of the poorest people can hide,
as far too many deaths happen again and again
and from this destruction very few get clear
while for something better they constantly crave
as their daily lives are always lived in fear,
as far too many go to a very early grave.
Still people multiply to rise under blue harsh skies
in far too many numbers, to never be free,
from lives that many of them do despise,
from lives lived in constant poverty.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The New-England Boy's Song About Thanksgiving Day
Over the river, and through the wood,
To grandfather's house we go;
The horse knows the way,
To carry the sleigh,
Through the white and drifted snow.
Over the river, and through the wood,
To grandfather's house away!
We would not stop
For doll or top,
For 't is Thanksgiving Day.
Over the river, and through the wood,
Oh, how the wind does blow!
It stings the toes,
And bites the nose,
As over the ground we go.
Over the river, and through the wood,
With a clear blue winter sky,
The dogs do bark,
And children hark,
As we go jingling by.
Over the river, and through the wood,
To have a first-rate play-
Hear the bells ring
Ting a ling ding,
Hurra for Thanksgiving Day!
Over the river, and through the wood-
No matter for winds that blow;
Or if we get
The sleigh upset,
Into a bank of snow.
Over the river, and through the wood,
To see little John and Ann;
We will kiss them all,
And play snow-ball,
And stay as long as we can.
Over the river, and through the wood,
Trot fast, my dapple grey!
Spring over the ground,
Like a hunting hound,
For 't is Thanksgiving Day!
Over the river, and through the wood,
And straight through the barn-yard gate;
We seem to go
Extremely slow,
It is so hard to wait.
Over the river, and through the wood-
Old Jowler hears our bells;
He shakes his pow,
With a loud bow wow,
And thus the news he tells.
Over the river, and through the wood-
When grandmother sees us come,
She will say, Oh dear,
The children are here,
Bring a pie for every one.
Over the river, and through the wood-
Now grandmother's cap I spy!
Hurra for the fun!
Is the pudding done?
Hurra for the pumpkin pie!
poem by Lydia Maria Francis Child
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hole In The River
Theres a hole in the river where my auntie lies
From the land of the living to the air and sky
Left her car by the river left her shoes beside
Through the thorns and the bushes I hope she was...
Dreaming of glory
Miles above the mountains and plains
Free at last
We were touched by a cold wind, my father and i
The sound of desperate breathing her fear inside us all
She was coming to see him but something changed her mind
Drove her down to the river
There is no return
Theres a hole in the river where a memory lies
From the land of the living to the air and sky
She was coming to see him
But something changed her mind,
Drove her down to the river
There is no return
song performed by by Crowded House
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Hope Is In You
Rise and shine.
Rise above the barriers.
Rise above conspiracy.
Rise, my hope is in you.
I hope for a better day,
Tomorrow...
I hope for a great weather,
Tomoroww...
I hope for joy and success,
Your success.
My hope is in you.
My hope is in you.
I hope peer pressure
Won't mislead you..
I hope you understand,
Fun doesn't mean, ,
VIOLENCE, RISK and DANGEROUS!
I hope you live up,
Not to my expectations,
But to your possible opportunities.
Just be a kid, , ,
And i'll be a caring parent.
Just listen, , ,
And i'll inspire you.
My hope for this country
Is in you.
For you are the future
Of the nation.
Choose education,
Choose alcohol and drug
Free life.
Choose success not sorrow.
Because my hope is in you.
My hope is in you.
Be robust and intrepid,
Be courageous and considerate,
Be wise and focus on your
Future because,
My hope is in you.
poem by Siyabonga A nxumalo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love, Hope, and Faith
We live tomorrow
the dreams of today
Our hopes of the future
gives us faith along the way
Love is the river
of this wakened state
Its never out of time
its never too late
It gives us life
as it flows through our lives
It tears through confusion
loneliness and strife
Love cuts a clear path
through the test of time
You can see where it has been
and watch it unwind
Free as a river
that you can’t control
You can’t even say
where it might flow
Hope is a power
that cant be taken away
It can pull you through
even the toughest of days
Hope can keep you going
when everything else fails
It keeps you company
on the loneliest of trails
Faith is ever daring
in the face of defeat
It can bring you courage
that nothing can beat
Faith is never doubting
in yourself or your beliefs
Holding on to what you know
when content is just a dream
Faith can give you strength
to face what the future brings
Combined with hope and love
you only need the three of these
Love is like a River
Hope is like a dream
Faith is just believing
with nothing to be seen
So dream of tomorrow
and love for today
Hope with all your heart
Let faith show you the way
poem by Rusty Gibson
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Written-In-Red
(To Our Living Dead in Mexico's Struggle)
Written in red their protest stands,
For the gods of the World to see;
On the dooming wall their bodiless hands
have blazoned "Upharsin," and flaring brands
Illumine the message: "Seize the lands!
Open the prisons and make men free!"
Flame out the living words of the dead
Written-in-red.
Gods of the World! Their mouths are dumb!
Your guns have spoken and they are dust.
But the shrouded Living, whose hearts were numb,
have felt the beat of a wakening drum
Within them sounding-the Dead men's tongue—
Calling: "Smite off the ancient rust!"
Have beheld "Resurrexit," the word of the Dead,
Written-in-red.
Bear it aloft, O roaring, flame!
Skyward aloft, where all may see.
Slaves of the World! Our cause is the same;
One is the immemorial shame;
One is the struggle, and in One name—
MANHOOD— we battle to set men free.
"Uncurse us the Land!" burn the words of the Dead,
Written-in-red.
poem by Voltairine de Cleyre
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Her Love Still Waves And Weeps!
The river witnessed
The love of couples
Whom found the solitude
Not disturbed by sound
But for the ringing giggle
Of the river that glanced
In shyness at them!
The religion incarcerated
The couples determined
To break barriers of religion
But their souls
In solitary confinement
Sent messages to the winds
That whirl around the cages!
The love was insurmountable
Their will was firm
Like the rock that stood
And survived the test of time!
It was the monsoon fury
That made the river furious
By the incessant shower
And the lives struggled
With hands raised over surface
Wailed to save from death.
He broke the cage
And came out as a wind
And plunged into the rushing
River's inconsolable fury
And brought back
All that struggled with whirl
To the shore of life!
Yet the river ravaged
Pulled him to the bottom
And tears swelled on all
On the banks of the river
As they found he is no more!
She still caged had the word
Of his dissolution of life
Wept but turned herself
As the waves of the river
Where the fathomless heart
Of the river kept him safe
Where he went into ablivion!
Yet the love lost sprout
In every spring at the banks
And the trees showered flowers
To the flowing river
In tribute to a love
That time taken back!
poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Mom
My Mom was like a perfect rose at springtime,
Pure and beautiful, and the petals perfectly formed,
And it's fragrance sweet and pleasing to the senses.
For the rose, as my mom, came into this world as a thing of beauty.
As time passed, the winds came into my mother's life,
For as life brings the rose, it also brings the winds.
The wind blows the petals off the rose and it is no longer new
And struggles through the wind to regain its strength and beauty.
Because the rose by God's design is a thing of splendor,
The petals grow back as the winds die down,
As did my mother, for her spirit was strong,
And she lived her life with a love that had no boundaries.
My Mom fought many winds with grace and strength,
Always with a smile and never to bring sadness to anyone,
For she could not bear to see anyone cry,
She was too full of love and life to let the wind touch her spirit.
Mom was my perfect rose; beautiful, warm, loving, and sweet.
She is safe from the winds now and lives in Heaven.
She will live on in my heart always,
And ease the strong wind that weakens me.
Someday the wind will be only a gentle breeze upon my face,
And I will know that she lives on in me forever.
I will know that my Mom is still with me,
Still beautiful and strong and loving.
She is safe now and so much stronger than the winds
The she so courageously endured.
And in that she taught me to believe, have faith, and to know
That I have the strength to endure the winds of my own sorrow.
I love you Mom, you are forever in my heart - you are forever.
poem by Sally DeSmet Trueblood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Living Out Thanksgiving
One's thanksgiving that's truly rife, comes from a Spirit filled life,
It is not about what we deserve, but, all about The God we serve;
It's not about things on this sod, but, a relationship with our God,
All good things come from above, from God, in unchanging love.
We can display real thanksgiving, through the choice of our living,
That choice between Spirit or flesh, knowing the two do not mesh,
For one causes unrighteousness, while one fuels our thankfulness,
So to live for God is our choice, so that in our God we can rejoice.
We can walk in The Wisdom of, The Lord God, Who reigns above,
While we walk in The Spirit of Christ, as The Savior guides our life,
Walking in the light of His Word, applying all the Truth we've heard,
As more to God, of life, we give, in true Thankfulness we can live.
Fear is the beginning of Wisdom, as we seek first God's Kingdom,
While in God's Spirit we abide, His Word then becomes our guide,
With His Word as our guiding light, in a world where wrong is right.
While yielding to God, not to sin, He fills us with songs and hymns.
When thanksgiving fills our heart, God's Love to others we impart,
When it's God we choose to serve, we get more than we deserve,
When thanking God along the way, true joy and peace fills the day,
When filled with joy and singing, our life displays real Thanksgiving.
(Copyright ©11/2012)