Related quotes: History could pass for a...

History could pass for a scarlet text, its jot and title graven red in human blood.

quote by Eldridge Cleaver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The ugly human face

Wailing with tears and
Helplessly in commotion,
All of you’re telling to write
The history of hatred, enmity, killings,
The history of human ugly face.

My pen is dried up,
Tell me in which medium,
And language should I write.
Where to begin and
Where to end
Such history of human ugly face.

Oh! Betrayer
You’re telling me to wipe out from the history
Of such human ugly face,
That shattered and shook human conscience,
That haunts the face of those innocent people,
Killed and hurt; widows and orphans.
That hums: that reminds.

Telling me just to close my eyes.
But I’m not blind.
Telling me not to speak,
But I’m not dumb.
Telling me not to write the truth,
But I cannot write anything but the truth.
How can I deceive the history where I belong?

Human memory is short,
Tears would dry up,
The blood would be washed away with time
But the silent words, written in the heart of each human ugly face
Imbedded forever and immortal.

Let me dip the pen in the smeared blood,
The blood of all religions, caste, creed and colour, poor and rich,
The thick blood of those innocent persons.

poem by Dr.bhagya Chandra Rajkumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Blooming Shame

Still fields of scarlet poppies blow
on long abandoned battle fields.
The bones of dead men hid below
will feed their roots increasing yields.

The few survivors are now all dead.
Rejoined the comrades that they knew.
So we remember in their stead.
The many who salute the few.

Now Patch is dead he was the last
veteran who survived the war
A living relic from the past
who lived a hundred years and more.

Thereï¿½s no one left who can recall
the muddy trenches and the gas.
The pain of seeing comrades fall.
He watched the long years slowly pass.

He never sought publicity.
He was a very private man
but became a celebrity
The last surviving veteran.

Each year the scarlet poppies grow
On Flanders Fields abundantly
The countless dead who lie below
Have earned their place in history.

By foolish useless sacrifice
They gave their lives to end all war
I think they paid to high a price.
The world is as it was before.

Men are still killing other men
but now much more efficiently
Each year we fail to learn again
the lessons taught by history.

There are no winners in a war.
There never was nor will there be.
But men will fight for evermore.
Itï¿½s human nature seemingly.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Scarlet Ribbons

I peeked in to say good-night,
When I heard my child in prayer.
And for me some scarlet ribbons,
Scarlet ribbons for my hair.
All the stores were closed and shuttered,
All the streets were dark and bare.
In our town no scarlet ribbons,
Not one ribbon for her hair.
Thru the night my heart was aching,
Just before the dawn was breaking.
I peeked in and on her bed,
In gay profusion lying there,
Lovely ribbons, scarlet ribbons,
Scarlet ribbons for her hair.
If I live to be a hundred,
I will never know from where.
Came those lovely scarlet ribbons,
Scarlet ribbons for her hair.
Scarlet ribbons- theres magic in the air,
Scarlet, scarlet ribbons for her hair.

song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Title

Give a title
Pursue it.

Giving title is in your hand
After giving title it is you
To go behind it.

Through this title
You are going to search truth
And the secret of truth
Though the title is
Not based on truth.

Title given on imagination
And imaginary world is not real world.
Without imagination
You can not go anywhere
You can not achieve anything.
It is your imagination
That pull and push you.

From the starting
You are wandering
With the title
You have given.
Unless you forget
All that are yours
You can not reach me.

Go not with anything.
Come to me only
Come to me in empty.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Gravestone Upon The Floor In The Cloisters Of Worcester Cathedral

'MISERRIMUS,' and neither name nor date,
Prayer, text, or symbol, graven upon the stone;
Nought but that word assigned to the unknown,
That solitary word--to separate
From all, and cast a cloud around the fate
Of him who lies beneath. Most wretched one,
'Who' chose his epitaph?--Himself alone
Could thus have dared the grave to agitate,
And claim, among the dead, this awful crown;
Nor doubt that He marked also for his own
Close to these cloistral steps a burial-place,
That every foot might fall with heavier tread,
Trampling upon his vileness. Stranger, pass
Softly!--To save the contrite, Jesus bled.

poem by William Wordsworth
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Scarlet And Sheba

Scarlet wants to hold me, wearing just a red-veiled hat
Sheba's in the shadows waiting for her turn at bat
In the parlour where the lights are low
A vulture sister act, I watch their show
They're trying to kill me, want to pick my bones
Methodically, erotically
I just want your body, Sheba
I don't want your brain
Scarlet gets what's left of my remains
I just want your body, Sheba
You lock me up in chains
Scarlet, she can referee the game
Scarlet likes to scold me, showers me with all her love
Sheba's in a bad mood, sharpening her black fur glove
With blood and honey attitude
They'll never know my gratitude
I'm crossed with longitude and latitude
Upon my back... with a crack
I just want your body, Sheba
I don't want your brain
Scarlet gets what's left of my remains
I just want your body, Sheba
You lock me up in chains
Scarlet, she can referee the game
I just want your body, Sheba
I don't want your brain
Scarlet gets what's left of my remains
I just want your body, Sheba
You lock me up in chains
Scarlet, she can referee the game

song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scarlet Ribbons

(jack segal/evelyn danzig)
I peeped in to say good night
When i heard my child in prayer
"send for me, some scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for my hair"
All the stores were closed and shuttered
All the streets were dark and bare
In my town no scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair
Through the night my heart was aching
Just before the dawn was breaking
I peeped in and on her bed
In gay profusion lying there
Lovely ribbons, scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair
If i live to be a hundred
I will never know from where
Came those lovely scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Art of Fiction

A story without a history
A good without a rule
An emotion without an act
A journey without an end
A world without a border
A love without a doubt

Futuristic SF or pure action
Witty drama or refreshing comedy
Romance story or phenomenal horror
Based on legend or fantasy adventure
Mind thriller or piece of biography
Cult or mainstream

Beloved or mocked
Best seller or unknown title
Copycat or canon
One shot or thousand long chapters
Words or motion
Light content or full of symbol

As long as human have a dream
As long as human could imagine
As long as human want to compete
As long as human need to feel
As long as human still lie
There will always bloom a fiction

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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On The Road To Gethsemane

on the road to Gethsemane...
i pass burned out buildings,
farm lands scorched by the bombing.
i pass the skeleton bodies
of young children who starved.
i pass the unmarked graves,
of young boys sent to war.
i pass the flag of the liars,
and the tents of mourning.
i pass vacant factories,
and houses left empty.
i pass through cocaine streets,
where all flesh is for sale.
i pass the unemployed masses,
and their desperate eyes.
i pass the baby born unwanted,
and the prison's stink.
i pass empty churches,
and hollow ringing bells.
i pass families broken,
and peoples enslaved.
i pass the moral guns of prejudice,
rank with immorality!
i pass the crippled, the sick,
and those desperately alone...
these tears of blood
are human tears,
this cross we all bear!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Red

Place that bayonet in my hand,
And fill this pouch with lead;
Show me the blood and leave me, and let me
Stand
By my dead.

Cover those staring eyes and go
And stab in the red, red rain.
Show me that blood and leave me. They groan
In the snow.
With the pain.

Cover his head with a scarlet cloak,
And run to your scarlet strife,
Show me that blood and leave me, where white
Snows choke
Out the life.

Turn his face to the sanguine skies,
The skies where the red stars move.
Show me that blood and leave me; a dead man lies
With his love.

poem by Leon Gellert
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We look to the history of the time of framing and to the intervening history of interpretation. But the ultimate question must be, what do the words of the text mean in our time.

quote by William J. Brennan, Jr.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Signature

Recognised signature
In the title page of history.
Do not named forger.
Plotting not done yet.

No sun no air
No water can erase
Damage scratchout
Signature that was
Put on the pages of history.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Never preach a sermon without a text from the Bible, a text containing the theme which you can elaborate. The text is the best proof in support of your argument. A sermon without a text is an argument without a proof.

quote by Isaac Mayer Wise
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Columbus

Viceroy they made him, Admiral and Don,
Wishing—good King and Queen!—to honor
him
Whose deeds should make all like distinctions
dim.
Columbus! Other title needs he none.
And they—in wisdom more than kingship
blest—
Go down to future days, remembered best
For service rendered to that lowly one.

Columbus! With proud love, yet reverently,
Pronounce that name,—the name of one who
heard
A word of life, and, answering that word,
Braved death, unfearing, on the Shadowy Sea;
Who—seeking land not known to any chart,
That land by faith deep graven on his heart—
Found justice, truth, and human liberty!

poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I Wrote A Poem Across The Universe

I wrote a poem across the Universe
It was read among the stars-
Cosmic messages were sent endlessly reinterpreting it-
It appeared in Galactic anthologies
And whole Civilizations taught it in their schools-
Worlds were born with it and worlds lamented their dying with it-
It became the Text of the Text of the Text of the Text of the Text
Of cosmic intergalactic meaningfulness-

I wrote a poem across the Universe-
It was read for billions of years
And then somehow
No attention was paid to it anymore-
And it vanished for as long as forever can be understood to be.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Multiple Choice

One answer only, please

1) History is a record of the best in human affairs
2) History is a record of the worst in human affairs
3) History is neither
4) History is both
5) All of the above

poem by Morgan Michaels
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We are at a major epoch in human history, which is that we don't need sex to recreate the race. You can have babies without sex. This is the first time in human history that has been true, and it means, for example, we could do some extraordinary things.

quote by David Cronenberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is the recognition of history as a record of human experience which has inevitably resulted in the inclusion of this conquest of civilization within the framework of a complete human history.

quote by James H. Breasted
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Written In Red!

Pages of history of man kind
Are written red,

Those who thought their blood,
As blue as sky or as blue as deep ocean,
Wrote the pages in Red and every page is full of bloodshed!

Hungry people weep for even glass of water,
And even for that they had blood to shed,

Innocent plants or innocent grass die,
When two elephants fight for supremacy!
They never care how many innocent may die!

Great heroes are made on the number of men they despatch to hell,
Saying patriots have heaven in their fight!

They are heroes like matadors at the cost of blood of an innocent bull!
Otherwise they are as you and me except that cruelty,

Men the made several men to shed blood, in the name of woman,
May it be sita, may it be Padmini
Or may be Helen of Troy,

All men were treated like toys
By a that a few mad boys,
To have their woman back,
Or defend their action,

All religions have their history written in red,
May it be books that are from God,
Stained with red, God signed it with blood,
Put the rubber stamp of quality with bone and flesh,

Every nation is having its own fountain of blood shed!
power hungry need only to shed crocodile tears,

Or just present awards and reward,
Those who safeguard
and died to save them!

May it be Ashoka, may it be Idi Ameen
or may be Churchil, or may be Gandhi,
Or may Lincoln or Changez Khan
Only they were famous due blood shed!

May it be history of continent or that sub continent
Only a story written in blood, On human skin and with bones as pens!
May it be any ' -ism ' or may
Politics in spain or Britain,

Equally dangerous are these..
Power or woman,
Ambition or nation,
Whether terrorist or counter terrorist venture

Police or politician,
Every history of massive wealth,
Or a piece of land
Religion or culture, blood is That red ink with pages of history is written only in red!

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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