We combat obstacles in order to get repose, and when got, the repose is insupportable.
quote by Henry B. Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From the beginning of our history the country has been afflicted with compromise. It is by compromise that human rights have been abandoned. I insist that this shall cease. The country needs repose after all its trials; it deserves repose. And repose can only be found in everlasting principles.
quote by Charles Sumner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The repose of sleep refreshes only the body. It rarely sets the soul at rest. The repose of the night does not belong to us. It is not the possession of our being. Sleep opens within us an inn for phantoms. In the morning we must sweep out the shadows.
quote by Gaston Bachelard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Repose.
When all your losing wins
Are gone.
Then i want to find
A place to repose.
Like laying in the
Water.
Till you fall asleep.
Will you kiss me goodbye?
At least.
When all my hardships
Lose their youth.
Don`t let the tide go out
Without me.
Because the tired
Face
In a lonely room,
Is hardly what(i need)
We mean.
Repose,
Let the lady
I`ve never known
Who loves
Me,
Like there`s no
One else
Worth considering (talking about) .
Be mine.
Let me watch the trees
In the wind.
For a time without end.
Shadows,
Start darkening
The sunny face,
There once was.
poem by Peter Vealey
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Early Works - Good Luck?
Here I sit in solemn repose
while some old bag looks down her nose
words echo around me
and I begin to snort and wheeze
like a bull ready to charge,
but I must be calm.
They talk in riddles
to confuse and fiddle
then I feel my good luck charm in my hand.
My aim is steady,
my shot is sure
and I return to my solemn repose, a
s the old bag looks cross-eyed
at my lucky charm stuck up her nose.
There is chaos everywhere
no one knows what to do,
I still sit in solemn repose
and the old bag is still cross-eyed
looking down her nose.
There is nothing they can do
and the case is dropped, wow, wow.
The old bag goes to hospital ho, ho
my lucky charm still up her nose.
The sun comes up in the morning
and I am still free as a bird.
Free as a bird, the word.
The air smells like dog muck
something you trod in to bring you luck!
10 October 2002
poem by David Harris
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Stanzas In Meditation: Stanza I
I caught a bird which made a ball
And they thought better of it.
But it is all of which they taught
That they were in a hurry yet
In a kind of a way they meant it best
That they should change in and on account
But they must not stare when they manage
Whatever they are occasionally liable to do
It is often easy to pursue them once in a while
And in a way there is no repose
They like it as well as they ever did
But it is very often just by the time
That they are able to separate
In which case in effect they could
Not only be very often present perfectly
In each way whichever they chose.
All of this never matters in authority
But this which they need as they are alike
Or in an especial case they will fulfill
Not only what they have at their instigation
Made for it as a decision in its entirety
Made that they minded as well as blinded
Lengthened for them welcome in repose
But which they open as a chance
But made it be perfectly their allowance
All which they antagonise as once for all
Kindly have it joined as they mind
poem by Gertrude Stein
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An Ode, Written October, 1819, Before The Spaniards Had Recovered Their Liberty
Arise, arise, arise!
There is blood on the earth that denies ye bread;
Be your wounds like eyes
To weep for the dead, the dead, the dead.
What other grief were it just to pay?
Your sons, your wives, your brethren, were they;
Who said they were slain on the battle day?
Awaken, awaken, awaken!
The slave and the tyrant are twin-born foes;
Be the cold chains shaken
To the dust where your kindred repose, repose:
Their bones in the grave will start and move,
When they hear the voices of those they love,
Most loud in the holy combat above.
Wave, wave high the banner!
When Freedom is riding to conquest by:
Though the slaves that fan her
Be Famine and Toil, giving sigh for sigh.
And ye who attend her imperial car,
Lift not your hands in the banded war,
But in her defence whose children ye are.
Glory, glory, glory,
To those who have greatly suffered and done!
Never name in story
Was greater than that which ye shall have won.
Conquerors have conquered their foes alone,
Whose revenge, pride, and power they have overthrown
Ride ye, more victorious, over your own.
Bind, bind every brow
With crownals of violet, ivy, and pine:
Hide the blood-stains now
With hues which sweet Nature has made divine:
Green strength, azure hope, and eternity:
But let not the pansy among them be;
Ye were injured, and that means memory.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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A 'Mass' Meeting
It was a solemn rite as e'er
Was seen by mortal man.
The celebrants, the people there,
Were all Republican.
There Estee bent his grizzled head,
And General Dimond, too,
And one-'twas Reddick, some one said,
Though no one clearly knew.
I saw the priest, white-robed and tall
(Assistant, Father Stow)-
He was the pious man men call
Dan Burns of Mexico.
Ah, 'twas a high and holy rite
As any one could swear.
'What does it mean?' I asked a wight
Who knelt apart in prayer.
'A mass for the repose,' he said,
'Of Colonel Markham's'--'What,
Is gallant Colonel Markham dead?
'Tis sad, 'tis sad, God wot!'
'A mass'-repeated he, and rose
To go and kneel among
The worshipers-'for the repose
Of Colonel Markham's tongue.'
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Invitation for a Voyage (L'Invation au Voyage)
My sisterchild, my dear!
Imagine going there
Gently to live together, just us two,
To love and think not why
To love and live and die
Together in the land that is like you.
The soaking suns that rise
Through those cloud-raveled skies
Will move me with the selfsame mystery
And witchery that lie
Within each traitor eye
That shines out through your tears to look at me.
There, there is but beauty, measure,
Luxury, repose and pleasure
A furniture that bears
The polish of the years
Will be the decoration of our chamber,
The very rarest blooms
Commingling their perfumes
With vague and sundry redolence of amber.
Those ceilings richly wrought,
And mirrors deep as thought,
And every wall with Eastern splendors hung
They all would speak apart
To nothing but the heart
In nothing but its tender mother tongue.
There, there is but beauty, measure,
Luxury, repose and pleasure
See vessels in the sweep
Of those canals, asleep,
Whose way it is to wander from their berth.
See how, to answer some
Small wish of yours, they come
Our way through all the waters of this earth.
At close of day the sun
Robes hayfields one by one,
Then the canals, and soon the town outright,
In hyacinth and gold;
The world that we behold
Subsides to slumber in a warm low light.
There, there is but beauty, measure,
Luxury, repose and pleasure
poem by Charles Baudelaire from Les Fleurs du Mal (1857), translated by A.Z. Foreman
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The life of the individual is a continuous combat with errors and obstacles, and no victory is more satisfying than the one achieved against opposition.
quote by Gustav Stresemann
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At That Hour
At that hour when all things have repose,
O lonely watcher of the skies,
Do you hear the night wind and the sighs
Of harps playing unto Love to unclose
The pale gates of sunrise?
When all things repose, do you alone
Awake to hear the sweet harps play
To Love before him on his way,
And the night wind answering in antiphon
Till night is overgone?
Play on, invisible harps, unto Love,
Whose way in heaven is aglow
At that hour when soft lights come and go,
Soft sweet music in the air above
And in the earth below.
poem by James Joyce
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I exhort you also to take part in the great combat, which is the combat of life, and greater than every other earthly combat.
Like water, we are truest to our nature in repose.
quote by Cyril Connolly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Travelers repose and dream among my leaves.
quote by William Blake
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Winter Repose
A lone Siberian tiger
Was resting on a hill,
All dressed in white and golden fur,
Reclining, oh, so still...
Accepting all that Fate had thrown,
Resigned to come what may...
Yes, there he was all on his own,
Just taking in the day...
He couldn't see a soul for miles
And nothing flew above...
And every day he faced new trials,
He met no-one to love...
The lonely figure looked around
At all his eyes surveyed...
And there, he didn't hear a sound
And so, felt quite dismayed...
Without true love, what have we got?
It's true, God only knows...
We know that it can't be a lot,
Like tigers in repose...
Yet hope abides in tigers, too,
And so they persevere...
Yes, they must do what we must do,
Until true love is here...
Denis Martindale, copyright, December 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Winter Repose'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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You must be still in the midst of activity, and be vibrantly alive in repose.
quote by Indira Gandhi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you can attain repose and calm, believe that you have seized happiness.
quote by Julie de Lespinasse
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Something attempted, something done, Has earned a nights repose.
quote by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Every difficulty slurred over will be a ghost to disturb your repose later on.
quote by Frederic Chopin
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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We must learn to be still in the midst of activity and to be vibrantly alive in repose.
quote by Indira Gandhi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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