A widow's refusal of a lover is seldom so explicit as to exclude hope.
quote by Samuel Richardson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not From This Anger
Not from this anger, anticlimax after
Refusal struck her loin and the lame flower
Bent like a beast to lap the singular floods
In a land strapped by hunger
Shall she receive a bellyful of weeds
And bear those tendril hands I touch across
The agonized, two seas.
Behind my head a square of sky sags over
The circular smile tossed from lover to lover
And the golden ball spins out of the skies;
Not from this anger after
Refusal struck like a bell under water
Shall her smile breed that mouth, behind the mirror,
That burns along my eyes.
poem by Dylan Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lover Lover Lover
I asked my father,
I said, father change my name.
The one Im using now its covered up
With fear and filth and cowardice and shame.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
He said, I locked you in this body,
I meant it as a kind of trial.
You can use it for a weapon,
Or to make some woman smile.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
Then let me start again, I cried,
Please let me start again,
I want a face thats fair this time,
I want a spirit that is calm.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
I never never turned aside, he said,
I never walked away.
It was you who built the temple,
It was you who covered up my face.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
And may the spirit of this song,
May it rise up pure and free.
May it be a shield for you,
A shield against the enemy.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Widow’s Warf
She stood in black on Widow’s Warf
looking out at the cold sea;
eyes tested the horizon
for any ship she might see.
Her lover had sailed away
many years ago never to return.
News that his ship was lost
in some great storm
had drifted back through the years,
but no one really knew.
Now each day she dressed in black
and waited on Widow’s Warf,
always hoping and praying
for her lover to return.
24 April 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In some circumstances, the refusal to be defeated is a refusal to be educated.
quote by Margaret Halsey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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His Axe
Go and tell it on the mountains,
Go and sing it to the woods,
And go and tell her to return to her lovely tent;
For the woodman is ready with his axe.
Why share your nakedness with many men around?
For i have heard your voice from the midst of the fire and,
I will come looking for you.
Go and tell your sweet lover to return to you,
For she's still with her widow's clothes;
And there are no harlots in this town.
Let her keep what she has from you and,
Let her learn from my muse always;
For i could not find her among the lot when,
The sun went down in the woods.
Of the staff in your hand and,
Of her widow's garments;
But i need a ram for the Passover sacrifice.
It is like a sheep for my lover and,
A ship for you to sail on to your lover;
For i have seen the fire and the wood but,
Where is the lamb for the burnt offerings?
Who is still making love with her?
Because you still want her back!
But the mountains are still waiting to remind you of your first date.
Oh, the intent and the thoughts of man's heart;
Do you still remember the first time you fell in love with her?
For i will go out looking for her early in the morning and,
We will meeet again in the land of love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Silence Of Indifference
if we do not write about rape issues
sensitive issues volatile issues explosive issues
if we do not voice our condemnation outrage
we then by default support these evils
with the silence of our indifference
with the silence of our fear cowardice
with our refusal to fight against injustice
with our refusal to fight prejudice inequality
with our refusal to fight for dignity for all humanity
poem by Terence George Craddock
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For My Secret Love
i content myself with only
a glance of you per day
to exclude the touch
of your hand,
to exclude practically
everything
that may fulfill this longing
at one glance only
for only an hour of the year
i can say
my life is fulfilled in self-
restraint.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It is because modern education is so seldom inspired by a great hope that it so seldom achieves great results. The wish to preserve the past rather that the hope of creating the future dominates the minds of those who control the teaching of the young.
quote by Bertrand Russell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Claws loosening
One murdered a man
Who cuckolded him.
One murdered his spouse
To live with his paramour.
One murdered her spouse
To flee with her lover.
One murdered a widow
For her liaison with his father.
One murdered a man
For his affair with one’s widow mother.
Crimes of sex are not uncommon.
Why are they rampant now?
Claws loosened and instincts emboldened.
22.06.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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There is nothing to fear except the persistent refusal to find out the truth, the persistent refusal to analyze the causes of happenings.
quote by Dorothy Thompson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song For Heroes
Captain O’Hare was a mariner brave;
He refused to abandon his ship;
A hero, he sleeps in a watery grave—
And his widow is now Mrs. Bipp,
Haw! Haw!
His widow is now Mrs. Bipp!
Henri Dupont was a fearless young ace;
Five thousand feet up he was hit;
Each year on his grave pretty flowers we place—
And his widow is now Mrs. Schmitt,
Haw! Haw!
His widow is now Mrs. Schmitt!
Corporal Dunn was a volunteer bold;
He plunged in the deadliest fray;
A bayonet thrust laid him out stony cold—
And his widow is now Mrs. Gray,
Haw! Haw!
His widow is now Mrs. Gray!
But Peter McGuck was a cowardly sneak,
Like a hound he remained home in fear;
When fishing one day he fell into the creek—
And his widow is now Mrs. Greer,
Haw! Haw! Haw!
Mrs. William O’Houlihan Greer!
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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The Black Knight's Song
Knight And Wamba
There came three merry men from south, west, and north,
Ever more sing the roundelay;
To win the Widow of Wycombe forth,
And where was the widow might say them nay?
The first was a knight, and from Tynedale he came,
Ever more sing the roundelay;
And his fathers, God save us, were men of great faine,
And where was the widow might say him nay?
Of his father the laird, of his uncle the squire,
He boasted in rhyme and in roundelay;
She bade him go bask by his sea-coal fire,
For she was the widow would say him nay.
Wamba
The next that came forth, swore by blood and by nails,
Merrily sing the roundelay;
Hur's a gentleman, God wot, and hur's lineage was of Wales,
And where was the widow might say him nay?
Sir David ap Morgan ap Griffith ap Hugh
Ap Tudor ap Rhice, quoth his roundelay;
She said that one widow for so many was too few,
And she bade the Welshman wend his way.
But then next came a yeoman, a yeoman of Kent,
Jollily singing his roundelay;
He spoke to the widow of living and rent,
And where was the widow could say him nay?
Both
So the knight and the squire were both left in the mire,
There for to sing their roundelay;
For a yeoman of Kent, with his yearly rent,
There never was a widow could say him nay.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Black Widow
I just love my nightmares
I cant wait to sleep
Enjoying all my dreams
Got no regrets
I can be a flash of lightning
Striking down on rocks
Burning down the law
Getting things I never got
Turning the world
Nothing unheard
One night can be more than a day
Just like a black widow
Like a black widow
I cant stand the dreamers
Scared of things that fly
They just have sweet fantasies
And fade and die
Nightmares - are so good, so good
And they always end just when they should
Nightmares are cool, nightmares are cruel
I love the fun and the thrill
Just like a black widow
Like a black widow
Black widow
Just like a black widow
Here comes the morning
And who can deny
Leaving the dream is so hard
I love my nightmares
I await their return
And this time, Im dressed to kill, dressed to kill
Just like a black widow............
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Science is the refusal to believe on the basis of hope.
quote by Carrie P. Snow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Make me a cheat, dear.
Is your refusal to see me from
My perusal to see you?
Is your refusal to requite love
My perusal to repeat?
Is not the unfurling petals for
The untiring beetles?
For your momentary pleasure?
For one more to your portfolio?
I like you to be a cheat
As by that you’ll be upbeat.
06.03.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Be a cheat, dear.
Is your refusal to see me from
My perusal to see you?
Is your refusal to requite love
My perusal to repeat?
Is not the unfurling petals for
The untiring beetles?
For your momentary pleasure?
For one more to your portfolio?
I like you to be a cheat
As by that you’ll be upbeat.
06.03.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Were There Hope
I was never in a league of noble gentlemen
To whom she'd cast polite and flitting smiles,
Only distant hope and dying dreams for me!
Or perhaps descent into a game of wiles
To give a chance of sipping wine on heady nights
With her angelic presence to declare;
Above, an aura playing out hypnotic hues,
And I in awe of blonde cascades of hair.
But no! my tiring soul is sinking in a mire
To haunt me for an age and evermore, for
How could I expect to hold her silken hand
When I am but a soulless ghost of yore?
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope, hope?
Hope?
Never
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Face Concealed Under My Hat (Revised)
I waltz into the office after lunch, brag about my
new Mafia hat which makes me look like a rich widow
- my colleagues looked askance, said Rich Widow -
you hope; I amended it to The Merry Widow - Franz
Lehar's operetta, I can see me on stage singing,
face concealed under the brim - but receiving
less enthusiastic response from a working crowd
I hung it on a hatstand to look impressive among
silver chains, xmas decorations already finding
their way there and a white scarf with silver
glitter; going home I took it with me to look
again at the toy in my hands - not wishing my
realistic family to burst my bubble too soon,
I hid the hat, as yet a game too new
To have shattered, a dream I'll treasure until
ready to let go of what it means to me…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hope Poems
It was the first thing I saw on the page
Hope Poems
And in that moment
I thought of all the hope
Those poems had
Crammed into their
Few lines.
Seldom will they fail
To call or give hope.
Yet we get entire years
To fill with hope
And too often we don't.
We can't get right
What a four line poem does.
Widow of Massacre
Some said she lost,
None said she crossed,
Nothing was known clear
Something about her was fear.
Everything, though said,
She's a widow of massacre.
If asked, she never say,
because witness you can pay,
She lost hee husband,
Then lost her hand.
Everything, though said,
She's a widow of massacre.
Behind her, there're stories,
Behind stories, there's worries,
Her village was ambushed,
And in bullets, washed.
Everything, though said,
She's a widow of massacre.
She survived the claws of wild,
After death of her single child,
Finally she ran to this village,
Where we paid her homage.
Everything, though said
She's a widow of massacre.
poem by Buyunde Acura Sylivester
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