Lives of great men all remind us, we can make our lives sublime, and, departing, leave behind us, footprints on the sands of time.
quote by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Voices Of The Night : A Psalm Of Life
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream! -
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, - act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Psalm Of Life
What the heart of the young man said to the psalmist
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!--
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Psalm of Life
Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou are, to dust thou returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, - act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sand of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solenm main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Parody on “A Psalm of Life”
Life is real, life is earnest,
And the shell is not its pen –
“Egg thou art, and egg remainest”
Was not spoken of the hen.
Art is long and Time is fleeting,
Be our bills then sharpened well,
And not like muffled drums be beating
On the inside of the shell.
In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the great barnyard of life,
Be not like those lazy cattle!
Be a rooster in the strife!
Lives of roosters all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime,
And when roasted, leave behind us,
Hen tracks on the sands of time.
Hen tracks that perhaps another
Chicken drooping in the rain,
Some forlorn and henpecked brother,
When he sees, shall crow again.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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You can't leave footprints in the sands of time if you're sitting on your butt. And who wants to leave buttprints in the sands of time
quote by Bob Moawad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lives of great men oft remind us as we o'er their pages turn, That we too may leave behind us - Letters that we ought to burn.
quote by Thomas Hood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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While it is well enough to leave footprints on the sands of time, it is even more important to make sure they point in a commendable direction.
quote by James Branch Cabell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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While it is well enough to leave footprints on the sands of time, it is even more important to make sure they point in a commendable direction.
quote by James Branch Cabell
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Footprints In The Sand
We are but pilgrims
traveling on this
journey
Leaving positive
footprints, in the
sands of time
The tide sweeps in
washing them to sea
again
but we must main-
tain
steady
through the floods
of time
When our journey has
ended
someday, we will
stand
before the master
planner
give account for our
footprints
left in the sands of
time.
poem by Heather Burns
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In The Footprints of My Mother
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall step to you.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall stay innocent and true.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall not give up hope.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall give you my love note.
In the footprints of my mother,
Lead me to a better path.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall releive in her wrath.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall cure all of your pains.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall bring you great reigns.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall unleash the angels of truth.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall defeat the evils booth.
The footprints of my mother,
led me straight to you.
The footprints of my mother,
Shown me I have nothing left to loose.
The footprints of my mother,
Guieded me towards the compelling lights.
The footprints of my mother,
Guided me towards the love of my life.
poem by Erin Grantham
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Our Mural
We all will leave our footprints
Upon our planets dirt
As we daily live our lives
Upon our home upon this earth,
From the places that we've been
Or from where we had came
From the happiness that we felt
And even the sadness and it's pain,
The people we have known
That became part of our life
And the laughs that we shared
With the tears that we cried,
As these are part of our footprints
That we placed upon this world
And every soul will leave them
As that will become our mural.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Fingerprints
You don't even know it but it is all around you,
Yo don't even love him but he is all around you,
And you shall now show partiality to the poor;
For peace is a great honour but love is what you need,
And i want to know what makes you cry.
Life at times is made up of the male testicles and,
The female ovaries with our footprints;
So isten carefully and learn about the truth,
For our footprints of our lives are everywhere.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Sands Of Time
The trickling of sand has started now
for the moments we shall share.
There will not be enough time for us,
not enough time to spare.
Let's turn the hourglass over and over
so our time cannot run out.
For our love, my sweet is all that counts.
It's all I think about.
The sands of time one by one
are traveling much too fast.
How can we slow them down, my dear?
How can we make them last?
Yours is the heart that beats my life,
one beat at a time.
Yours is the mind that connects with me
one thought at a time.
And as we travel through our lives
those grainy sands still fall,
making me want to hang on tight
and stop them once and for all.
But life is movement and must go on
so take my hand and stay
close by my side through all our moments
as the sands of time fall away.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Psalm of Labouring Life
Tell me not, in doctored numbers,
Life is but a name for work!
For the labour that encumbers
Me I wish that I could shirk.
Life is phony! Life is rotten!
And the wealthy have no soul;
Why should you be picking cotton,
Why should I be mining coal?
Not employment and not sorrow
Is my destined end or way;
But to act that each tomorrow
Finds me idler than today.
Work is long, and plutes are lunching;
Money is the thing I crave;
But my heart continues punching
Funeral time-clocks to the grave.
In the world's uneven battle,
In the swindle known as life,
Be not like the stockyard's cattle--
Stick your partner with the knife!
Trust no boss, however pleasant!
Capital is but a curse!
Strike,--strike in the living present!
Fill, oh fill the bulging purse.!
Lives of strikers all remind us
We can make our lives a crime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Bills for double overtime.
Charges that, perhaps another,
Working for a stingy ten
Bucks a day, some mining brother
Seeing, shall walk out again.
Let us, then, be up and striking,
Discontent with all of it;
Still undoing, still disliking,
Learn to labour--and to quit.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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Unfolding Process
Those actions will leave our lives better off?
Those actions...
Will leave,
Our lives...
Better off?
And you are serious when you believe that?
Do you hear the echo of that cough?
How about the thunderous winds,
That bring destruction with them?
Does anything about global warming make sense?
Has your awareness been completely absent?
Do you know there are more than two million inmates,
In prison cells?
Do you realize detention camps are being built
For hundreds of thousands...
Perhaps millions of humans to dwell?
And you believe warring factions overseas...
Will leave our lives better off?
Perhaps you are right!
Because you have proven your mind has not been 'on'!
And living lives better 'off'
Did not have to take conflicts to do it!
So many have been living lives better 'off' for decades.
They are not going to be the problem!
It will be those turning 'on' to what is happening,
That will create the greatest civil disturbance...
And that seems to be planned,
As a slow unfolding process!
'Where are you getting this from? '
I am My Father's son!
Whenever My Father's gaze is fixed upon something,
You know I'm going to look in that direction?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We
My father lives in France
My mothere lives in Japan
My sister lives in Afghanistan
My little brother lives in New York
My litter sister lives in Germany
My best friend lives in Myanmar
My business partner lives lives in China
My favourite food is indian food
My neighbourhood is always changing
What is WEdentity NOW?
Destiny Of Our Lives
When the life blossoms
Destiny engraved in our lives
When virtue and vice sway to and fro
Energized and driven by supernatural forces
When we are grown up
Our lives started to face challenges
When we encounter distress
Our lives impregnated with tears and worries
That is the destiny of our lives.......
Sometimes our lives tinged and
Embroilled with joys and sorrows
Destiny inflicting poison and evil into our lives
Destiny can make or mar our lives
Destiny inspires our lives to prosperity
It can perish our prospects
Fortune and fate tossing each other
End of lives salunated with blessings
Dulakshi Wakista Copyright 2009
poem by Dulakshi Wakista
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Sonnet: Through Science to Heaven
The computer has surely changed our lives;
All inventions can play havoc with souls;
From umptine vices, youth pleasure derives,
And misled children take up newer roles.
Don’t shun the newer gadgets coming in;
Machines should not alter our lives too much;
They should not help us land in mortal sin;
They should not give our bodies Satan’s touch.
Whatever comes anew has good and bad;
Self-control lies within our minds and hearts;
Too much of anything can turn us mad;
Our soul’s state matters first, when it departs.
Be not a slave to machines any time;
Let gadgets help us make our lives sublime.
9-7-2002
poem by John Celes
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Life Is Not What It Seem (Wreathed Quatrains) (In Answer To Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)
There’s nothing that can stop the sands of time
some lives sublime will face death on a day
nothing can stay, without reason or rhyme
existence does begrime, by destiny swept away;
great men play and live, leave prints in the sand,
they are grand, but they lead others to disaster,
as plaster impressions, difficult to understand
very underhand few can their tricks master
and faster life passes; it’s not what it seems;
as in a dream events are ever changing,
everything does not turnout as we do deem,
self-esteem does not always happiness bring,
even achieving and pursuing, may bring a end
in a world bend, while for justice we wait
with hate, on words and acts till we are spent,
while descent nothing is or even straight
.
but in our gait, if we do trust in God,
even if ungodly we act in recreation
on every occasion to the final sod
it’s quite odd, He brings a new creation.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Thinking of Holiday - Wishing our lives away
I’m on holiday – Time to play
Cannot believe it’s time
To relax and unwind
Never thought this amount of free time I will find
‘tis your turn my Manager said
Thanks for all your hard work
You deserve your break
Ensure you make the best thereof
Now I wish for time to stand still
These two weeks will be lived at a very slow pace
Cannot afford for the time to be wasted
We all work hard for our breaks
There’s work to be done at my house
What will I do – work, play or loaf
Loaf – I think is the best answer
Is this not why I’m on leave?
Five years I never had two weeks leave
All my leave used to be invested in studying
Completing my degree
But now all my time to me is free
Wishing our lives away
I know this – One morning I will awaken
Just to go back to work again
And I will realize that the best part of any holiday or leave
Usually is the looking forward to it
I will then work hard again
in great anticipation
of the next break away from work
the circle of our life’s
Is it not funny how we always require something
To look forward to
Always the next weekend, public holiday
Or annual leave, or a special day, maybe a birthday or such
In this way we all wish our lives away
Remember this I say – a small reminder to all
Focus on today
And in this way – so much more you will gain out of every moment
poem by Michael Knight
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