You that would judge me, do not judge alone this book or that, come to this hallowed place where my friends' portraits hang and look thereon; Ireland's history in their lineaments trace; think where man's glory most begins and ends and say my glory was I had such friends.
quote by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Municipal Gallery Revisited
AROUND me the images of thirty years:
An ambush; pilgrims at the water-side;
Casement upon trial, half hidden by the bars,
Guarded; Griffith staring in hysterical pride;
Kevin O'Higgins' countenance that wears
A gentle questioning look that cannot hide
A soul incapable of remorse or rest;
A revolutionary soldier kneeling to be blessed;
An Abbot or Archbishop with an upraised hand
Blessing the Tricolour. 'This is not,' I say,
'The dead Ireland of my youth, but an Ireland
The poets have imagined, terrible and gay.'
Before a woman's portrait suddenly I stand,
Beautiful and gentle in her Venetian way.
I met her all but fifty years ago
For twenty minutes in some studio.
III
Heart-smitten with emotion I Sink down,
My heart recovering with covered eyes;
Wherever I had looked I had looked upon
My permanent or impermanent images:
Augusta Gregory's son; her sister's son,
Hugh Lane, 'onlie begetter' of all these;
Hazel Lavery living and dying, that tale
As though some ballad-singer had sung it all;
Mancini's portrait of Augusta Gregory,
'Greatest since Rembrandt,' according to John Synge;
A great ebullient portrait certainly;
But where is the brush that could show anything
Of all that pride and that humility?
And I am in despair that time may bring
Approved patterns of women or of men
But not that selfsame excellence again.
My mediaeval knees lack health until they bend,
But in that woman, in that household where
Honour had lived so long, all lacking found.
Childless I thought, 'My children may find here
Deep-rooted things,' but never foresaw its end,
And now that end has come I have not wept;
No fox can foul the lair the badger swept --
VI
(An image out of Spenser and the common tongue).
John Synge, I and Augusta Gregory, thought
All that we did, all that we said or sang
Must come from contact with the soil, from that
Contact everything Antaeus-like grew strong.
We three alone in modern times had brought
Everything down to that sole test again,
Dream of the noble and the beggar-man.
VII
And here's John Synge himself, that rooted man,
'Forgetting human words,' a grave deep face.
You that would judge me, do not judge alone
This book or that, come to this hallowed place
Where my friends' portraits hang and look thereon;
Ireland's history in their lineaments trace;
Think where man's glory most begins and ends,
And say my glory was I had such friends.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Think where mans glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.
quote by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Think where man's glory most begins and ends, And say my glory was I had such friends.
quote by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Cant Judge A Book
You cant judge a book by looking at the cover
No, you cant judge a man by looking at the cover
And you cant judge a book by looking at the cover
When I was young and went to school
My mama taught me the magic rule
And what she said I tried my best to follow
She said
You cant judge a book by looking at the cover
No, you cant judge a man by looking at the cover
And you cant judge a book by looking at the cover
Then I left school and moved around
And what I saw and what I found
Made me remember what she said to follow
She said
You cant judge a book by looking at the cover
No, you cant judge a man by looking at the cover
And you cant judge a book by looking at the cover
And now I think, by now Id know, that what appears is not always so
And I remember what she said to follow
She said
You cant judge a book by looking at the cover
No, you cant judge a man by looking at the cover
And you cant judge a book by looking at the cover
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Judge
Judge is not here to decide
Who is winner and who is loser.
Judge is here to decide
Who is in right point.
No judge is empower to
Pronounced death sentences
No judge has got power
To give life to the lifeless.
Judge can not decide
The synonyms and antonyms
Judge can not say
The right source for right word.
Judge is not judge
So long as the judge is mortal
Judge is judge
If judge is eternal.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Friends.... Old Friends......
Friends… old friends…
One sees how it ends.
A woman looks
Or a man lies,
And the pleasant brooks
And the quiet skies,
Ruined with brawling
And caterwauling,
Enchant no more
As they did before,
And so it ends
With friends.
Friends… old friends…
And what if it ends?
Shall we dare to shirk
What we live to learn?
It has done its work,
It has served its turn;
And, forgive and forget
Or hanker and fret,
We can be no more
As we were before.
When it ends, it ends
With friends.
Friends… old friends…
So it breaks, so it ends.
There let it rest!
It has fought and won,
And is still the best
That either has done.
Each as he stands
The work of its hands
Which shall be more
As he was before?…
What is it ends
With friends?
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Delia
Delia was a gambling girl, gambled all around,
Delia was a gambling girl, she laid her money down.
All the friends I ever had are gone.
Delias dear ol mother took a trip out west,
When she returned, little delia gone to rest.
All the friends I ever had are gone.
Delias daddy weeped, delias momma moaned,
Wouldnt have been so bad if the poor girl died at home.
All the friends I ever had are gone.
Curtis looking high, curtis looking low,
He shot poor delia down with a cruel forty-four.
All the friends I ever had are gone.
High up on the housetops, high as I can see,
Looking for them rounders, looking out for me.
All the friends I ever had are gone.
Men in atlanta, tryin to pass for white,
Delias in the graveyard, boys, six feet out of sight.
All the friends I ever had are gone.
Judge says to curtis, whats this noise about?
All about them rounders, judge, tryin to cut me out.
All the friends I ever had are gone.
Curtis said to the judge, what might be my fine?
Judge says, poor boy, you got ninety-nine.
All the friends I ever had are gone.
Curtis in the jail house, drinking from an old tin cup,
Delias in the graveyard, she aint gettin up.
All the friends I ever had are gone.
Delia, oh delia, how can it be?
You loved all them rounders, never did love me.
All the friends I ever had are gone.
Delia, oh delia, how can it be?
You wanted all them rounders, never had time for me.
All the friends I ever had are gone.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who is to judge?
Family Heads, are you right to judge?
Political Heads, are you wise to judge?
Religious Heads, are you just to judge?
Judicial Heads, are you true to judge?
Individuals, are you free to judge?
One is right to one’s act.
Each act ends with its fate
As each birth meets its death.
Which birth is not just?
Which act is not just?
Who are you and I to judge?
Time is supreme and beyond us.
08.06.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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You Cant Judge A Book By Looking At The Cover
1: you cant judge a apple by lookin at the tree.
Cant judge a honey by lookin at the bee.
Cant judge a daughter by lookin at the mother.
You cant judge a book by lookin at the cover.
Chorus: oh-oh, cant you see? you misjudged me, baby!
I look like a farmer but--Im a lover!
Cant judge a book by lookin at the cover.
2: you cant judge sugar by lookin at the pan.
Cant judge a woman by lookin at her man.
Cant judge one by lookin at the other.
You cant judge a book by lookin at the cover.
Chorus: oh-oh, cant you see? you misjudged me!
I look like a farmer but--Im a lover!
Cant judge a book by lookin at the cover.
3: you cant judge a fish by lookin in the pond.
Cant judge right by lookin at the wrong,
Cant judge a-one by lookin at the other.
You cant judge a book by lookin at the cover.
Chorus: oh-oh, cant you see? you misjudged me!
I look like a farmer but--Im a lover!
Cant judge a book by lookin at the cover.
4: cant judge a apple by lookin at the tree, baby.
Cant judge honey by lookin at the bee.
Cant judge a daughter by lookin at the mother.
You cant a book by lookin at the cover.
Chorus: oh-oh, cant you see? you misjudged me!
I look like a farmer but--Im a lover!
Cant judge a book a-by lookin at the cover.
Source: mark atkins (by ear), 4/30/00
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Can Remember
I can remember when we first met,
We really had some times.
When the success started to kick in,
Life turned into a mess.
Why cant we still be friends?
Why judge me for what I am?
Cant we go back again?
Im still the same man.
You figured out really who I am,
Dont bet your life on that.
Why cant you see me for what I am?
Were human, dont forget that... that.
Why cant we still be friends?
Why judge me for what I am?
Cant we go back again?
Im still the same man.
Still around.
Dont follow me around.
Playin me like a clown.
Facing life not real... not real.
Lifes not real. not real. (x2)
Why cant we still be friends?
Why judge me for what I am?
Cant we go back again?
Im still the same man.
Same man! (x4)
song performed by by Korn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ladybird
Tell me a story of mind over matter
The hope and glory of life ever after
The sound and the fury the cloak and the dagger
Days when we sink like a stone
Porcelain portraits and silver medallions
Plasticine soldiers that march in battalions
Angels of mercy and lifelong companions
Days when we sink like a stone
There a room somewhere with a different look
Where your secret life is an open book
Where the love we made was a chance we took
Days when we sink like a stone
Ladybird fly away our friends are gone
Ladybird fly away our house is on fire
Let us be lovers we'll melt after midnight
Hoist up the mainsail we'll coast through the daylight
Twisted like candles that fade in the half-light
Days when we sink like a stone
Well we die sometimes to begin again
When the same old dreams have the same old end
When we lose our mind or we lose our friends
Days when we sink like a stone
Ladybird fly away our friends are gone
Ladybird fly away our house is on fire
Ladybird fly away our friends are gone
Ladybird fly away our house is on fire
Your friends have gone
Porcelain portraits and silver medallions
Your friends have gone
Plasticine soldiers that march in battalions
Your friends have gone
Angels of mercy and lifelong companions
Tell me a story of mind over matter
The hope and glory of life ever after
The sound and the fury the cloak and the dagger
Ladybird fly away our friends are gone
Ladybird fly away our house is on fire
song performed by by Tears For Fears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ch 02 The Morals Of Dervishes Story 14
A dervish who had fallen into want stole a blanket from the house of a friend. The judge ordered his hand to be amputated but the owner of the blanket interceded, saying that he had condoned the fault. The judge rejoined: ‘Thy intercession cannot persuade me to neglect the provision of the law.’ The man continued: ‘Thou hast spoken the truth but amputation is not applicable to a person who steals some property dedicated to pious uses. More over a beggar possesses nothing and whatever belongs to a dervish is dedicated to the use of the needy.’ Thereon the judge released the culprit, saying: ‘The world must indeed have become too narrow for thee that thou hast committed no theft except from the house of such a friend.’ He replied: ‘Hast thou not heard the saying: Sweep out the house of friends and do not knock at the door of foes.’
If thou sinkest in a calamity be not helpless.
Strip thy foes of their skins and thy friends of their fur-coats.
The Place Where The Rainbow Ends
THERE'S a fabulous story
Full of splendor and glory,
That Arabian legends transcends;
Of the wealth without measure,
The coffers of treasure,
At the place where the rainbow ends.
Oh, many have sought it,
And all would have bought it,
With the blood we so recklessly spend;
But none has uncovered,
The gold, nor discovered
The spot at the rainbow's end.
They have sought it in battle,
And e'en where the rattle
Of dice with man's blasphemy blends;
But howe'er persuasive,
It still proves evasive,
This place where the rainbow ends.
I own for my pleasure,
I yearn not for treasure,
Though gold has a power it lends;
And I have a notion,
To find without motion,
The place where the rainbow ends.
The pot may hold pottage,
The place be a cottage,
That a humble contentment defends,
Only joy fills its coffer,
But spite of the scoffer,
There's the place where the rainbow ends.
Where care shall be quiet,
And love shall run riot,
And I shall find wealth in my friends;
Then truce to the story,
Of riches and glory;
There's the place where the rainbow ends.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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My Glory Is Not The Glory of God
MY GLORY IS NOT THE GLORY OF G-D
My glory is not the glory of G-d
I do not know what the glory of God is-
I do not know my own glory.
Glory glory glory
What’s glory?
We are small lost souls in a space and time so far beyond us
It is difficult to imagine
Even God knows how to deal with it.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Do not Judge me (First Poem Submitted)
As I stand before you
with the reality of the shame of my sins in my arms.
Do not judge me.
You do not know me.
You do not know the pains I have suffered,
As you look at me like I am a demon from the pits of Hell.
Do not judge me.
You do not know me.
Picture youself alone as I, needing the comfort and touch of another.
Would you not do the same?
Do not judge me.
You do not know me.
And my child has already been marked like a person with the plague.
Not given a chance,
Do not judge him,
You do not know him.
We all have sinned and it is not our job to judge,
So do not judge me.
You do not know me.
(I wrote this after watching Scarlett Letter)
poem by Tamara Daniel
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Friends
Friends care about your answer,
When they ask how you are.
Friends stand by you through thick and thin,
When others desert you like a sinking ship.
Friends help you find yourself at every cost,
When you feel completely lost.
Friends quietly and with patience listen,
And speak up when the time is ripe.
Friends never betray your trust,
They are perfect confidants.
Friends keep quiet and don’t judge,
And never for long hold a grudge.
Fiends encourage you when you are low,
And cheer the loudest when you are raring to go.
Friends firmly tell you,
When you are overstretching and must say no.
Friends tell you, you are worth more,
Then what you are settling for.
Friends have the knack of seeing the invisible
And are always accessible.
Friend like evergreens are around all year,
Whatever the season in your life, they are there.
this is for DEEPA
13 July2008
Mamta
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Parting
O tell me, friends, while yet we part,
And heart can yet be heard of heart,
O tell me then, for what is it
Our early plan of life we quit;
From all our old intentions range,
And why does all so wholly change?
O tell me, friends, while yet we part!
O tell me, friends, while yet we part,
The rays that from the centre start
Within the orb of one warm sun,
Unless I err, have once begun,
Why is it thus they still diverge?
And whither tends the course they urge?
O tell me, friends, while yet we part!
O tell me, friends, while yet ye hear,
May it not be, some coming year,
These ancient paths that here divide
Shall yet again run side by side,
And you from there, and I from here,
All on a sudden reappear?
O tell me, friends, while yet ye hear!
O tell me, friends, ye hardly hear,
And if indeed ye did, I fear
Ye would not say, ye would not speak,
Are you so strong, am I so weak,
And yet, how much so e’er I yearn,
Can I not follow, nor you turn?
O tell me, friends, ye hardly hear!
O tell me, friends, ere words are o’er,
There’s something in me sad and sore
Repines, and underneath my eyes
I feel a somewhat that would rise,
O tell me, O my friends, and you,
Do you feel nothing like it too?
O tell me, friends, ere words are o’er!
O tell me, friends that are no more,
Do you, too, think ere it is o’er
Old times shall yet come round as erst,
And we be friends, as we were first?
Or do you judge that all is vain,
Except that rule that none complain?
O tell me, friends that are no more!
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sonnet: God is the Best Judge
Which man can judge others accurately?
Is it a thing easy to judge others?
The human judge best though learned be, errs;
No one can judge his neighbor ev’r ably.
A man has both a good and bad backgrounds;
Only the proportion varies with time;
No man is perfect, not even his rhyme!
Can one predict the layers within mounds?
Man is so complex; so is his action;
No man can be perfect akin to God;
God’s judgments will be free of mal-function;
No man is perfect, his judgment is odd!
Let not a man judge his neighbor rashly!
God is the only Judge who does justly.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Somebody Touched Me
(first release, live version portsmouth, england, september 24, 2000traditional, arranged by bob dylan)
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!
Would you please welcome columbia recording artist bob dylan.
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Must have been the hand of the lord.
While I was praying, somebody touched me,
While I was praying, somebody touched me,
While I was praying, somebody touched me,
Must have been the hand of the lord.
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Must have been the hand of the lord.
Well, it was on a sunday, somebody touched me,
It was on a sunday, somebody touched me,
It was on a sunday, somebody touched me,
Must have been the hand of the lord.
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Must have been the hand of the lord.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Glory Hole for Friend Thad
.
When all else fails the glory hole remains.
The final resting place for odds and ends
Unwanted trifles passed to us by friends,
we do not really want but we retain
They might come in handy, our refrain.
This odd collection builds up and extends
a welcome. To the oddments we will need
When we can find the time we need again.
The glory hole is indispensible
every house has one: A necessity
the last resort where we can hope to find
Just what we need so we are capable
of repairing damaged gadgetry
with salvaged parts from another kind.
13-Sep-08
http: // blog.My space.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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