There are fully forty towers, which are lofty and well built, the largest of which has fifty steps leading to its main body, and is higher than the tower of the principal tower of the church at Seville.
quote by Hernando Cortes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Ben Boyd's Tower
Ben Boyd's Tower is watching—
Watching o’er the sea;
Ben Boyd’s Tower is waiting
For her and me.
We do not know the day,
We do not know the hour,
But we know that we shall meet
By Ben Boyd’s Tower.
Moonlight peoples Boyd Tower,
Mystic are its walls;
Lightly dance the lovers
In its haunted halls.
Ben Boyd’s Tower is watching—
Watching o’er the foam;
Ben Boyd’s Tower is waiting
Till the “Wanderer” comes home.
O! he lay above us—
High above the surf—
Finger-nails and toe-caps
Digging in the turf.
We do not know the day,
We do not know the hour,
But Two and Two shall meet again
By Ben Boyd’s Tower.
There’s an ancient dame in Eden—
Basket on her arm—
And she goes down the Main Street
From the old, old farm.
Hood drawn on her forehead—
Withered dame and grey—
She never looks on Boyd Tower
Out across the Bay.
Bright eyes in the ballroom,
Coquetting with two,
Just for love of mischief,
As a girl will do.
A quarrel in the bar-room—
All within the hour—
And four men rode from Boyd Town
To Ben Boyd’s Tower.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Tower Of London
Let me take you to trafalgar square
Let me take you there
Every streets a fashion catwalk
Everyones debonair
Let me take you to piccadilly
Guess it leads somewhere
Tower over centuries, tower over london
Tower up and frankly Im amazed
Whats done cannot be undone, not here not in london
Whats done can never be erased
So, tower up! - its those little things
Make life interesting- tower of london!
Tower up! - wasting time
Yours and mine - tower of london!
Hip london! hip london!
Let me take you to st.jamess square
Let me groove you there
Diplomats get target practice
In the open air
Psychobillies scream blue murder
Then they hit mayfair
Tower over centuries, tower over london
Tower up and frankly Im amazed
Whats done cannot be undone, not here not in london
Whats done can never be erased
So, tower up! - its those little things
Make life interesting- tower of london!
Tower up! - wasting time
Precious time - tower of london!
Tower up! Ill meet you there
Ill be there - tower of london
New york! - dont make me laugh
Ive seen photographs - tower of london...
song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Tower Standing Tall
A dark tower standing tall,
Amoung the open plane,
Mocks the understanding,
But wallows in the pain,
What life is known of this,
What stories can be told,
Of this dark towers life,
And what his sights behold
The tower can see everything,
From land, to sky, to moon,
What dark gestures show in this,
That we will know soon,
For god saw,
But does not always see,
What the dark tower has,
But soon,
That is what things will be.
poem by Jessica Patenaude
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A Tower Name
The Lord’s name
Power name
A tower name
A strong name
And power-tower name
A strong tower, the name
A safe place, the name
Good in every situation, the name
Has unmatched power, the name
And a place of fortification, the name
When spiritually attacked, to the name run
When the past foibles clouds the mind, to the name run
When disappointed, to the name run
When failure cripples in, to the name run
And when tempted, to the name run
In the name, security
In the name, safety
In the name, peace
In the name, strong power
And in the name, a strong tower
A strong tower, strong refuge
A strong tower, stout defense
A strong tower, powerful protection
A strong tower, shield from the past
And a strong tower, enemy at bay to put
Whatever enemy offensive, call the name
Like Joseph, make a dash to the name
So portable, so wherever, the tower name
A refuge from doubt, selfishness, malice
And a shelter from slenderness, loneliness, envy and the like
So as the devil launches attack
A run to the tower name make
Call upon the power name
Stay in the power-tower
And watch him, sulking away
The Bible assures us: “The name of the Lord is a strong tower: the righteous runneth into it, and is safe” (Prov.18: 10, KJV) .
poem by Obed Akuma
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Victim 0001, a poem of 9/11
Father Mychal Judge bent down
to the woman on the floor.
His right hand made the cross in sign
like oft he had before.
Above him the North Tower Burned
like South Tower just next door.
The chaplain of the firemen,
Mychal was a Catholic priest.
Born and bred in Brooklyn,
He was no stranger to these streets.
When he heard word about the planes,
his safety he ignored..
He had to go be with his boys
His trust was in the Lord.
The people in the towers had
the choice to burn or fly.
So many that day took the plunge
preferring not to fry.
The raging fires melted steel.
South Tower started to collapse
The Bravest in her stairwells
never heard recall perhaps.
“Sweet Jesus, Make this end now! ”
Some heard Father Mychal cry.
Debris from the South Tower
Like a scythe came flying by.
It was blunt force trauma to the head
laid Father Mychal low.
His friends removed his body
before North tower, too, would go.
Thousands passed that terrible day;
the mighty and the small.
When responders came with body bags
Mychal was first of all.
Zero Zero Zero One
A strange number for a Priest,
who rushed where Angels feared to tread,
not fearful in the least
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Tower Erupted
A tower erupts suddenly, it is volcano.
Severing ties with kin and soldier,
Breaking the bonds of slavery with civilisation.
The towers are full of people, the artless;
Yet the listening acts are made
For the emancipation of those same people.
Those with love are also in fondness, audacity,
Happening right, events are stations of the soul.
When the tower erupted we found treasures
Of sensible life, the tower was in flames.
Authority is a book of the best ostrich,
The weird yourself, never in sensible life.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Thunder In The Tower
Well, the lightning flashed at midnight
And the dogs did howl along
You dont believe it - unless youve seen it
It was the night the thunder broke
There is no more creation
No room for good - no hope
You better cry for salvation - as
The reaper dangled by the rope
A scream for help - the morning after
Theyd equalised the score
And in their minds - theres only laughter
A smile - without a cause
And there was thunder in the tower
As the cat crept out
There was thunder in the tower
Theres no escape - no doubt
Its been the night the birds were silent
And the town was deadly still
A curling lip - an icy grip
n bony fingers that can kill
Assembling in the tower
The payment bloody high
They tried to cheat their final hour
Hes gonna get them eye to eye
Bridge
And there was thunder in the tower
Screaming silence in the air
There was thunder in the tower
Awesome power evrywhere
And there was thunder in the tower
They didnt care its right or wrong
There was thunder in the tower
And the reaper came along
Chorus
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brother, Can You Spare A Dime
Once I built a railroad...made it run
Made it race against time
Once I built a railroad...now it's done
Brother, can you spare a dime
Once I built a tower...to the sun
Bricks...rivet...and lime
Once I built a tower...now it's done
Brother, can you spare a dime
Once in cocky suits
Gee, we looked swell
Full of that Yankee Doodle-dom
Half a million boots..they went
slogging through Hell
And I..I was a kid with a drum
Say, don't you remember..
They called me Al
It was Al all the time
Say, don't you remember
I'm your pal
Buddy, can you spare a dime.....
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Clock Tower of Bahraich
(The Clock Tower of Bahraich is the second highest clock tower in the world. It was built in 1910.)
Standing upright for a century
Witnessing ups and downs
Of the age
Teasing us for our infirmities today
And yet hopeful for a better tomorrow.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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Avoiding The Weeds
Come out from among the strife, unto The Savior, Jesus Christ,
From the weeds of worldliness, unto the Son of Righteousness;
Out from a world of dark despair, into The Lord’s love and care,
From a world of darkened blight, into The Lord’s Glorious Light.
Around us is such pain and strife, in this world, where sin is rife,
With many hindered by the weeds, as they attend to their needs,
Providing for the family’s care, they find temptation everywhere,
So in the darkness of the night, we truly need The Savior’s Light.
Weeds surround us in many ways, as we live life in darker days,
Even finding their way inside, The Church, for whom Jesus died,
Into the Church of Jesus Christ, His people, bought with a price,
As darkness finds its way within, the Body, God saved from sin.
In an increasingly darkened time, by our Lord God’s own design,
He is our Strength and a Tower, for believers to flee to any hour;
To this Tower the Righteous flee, Believers, just like you and me,
In this Tower strength is found, for us to stand on higher ground.
As God’s Truth a soul heeds, the man of God avoids the weeds,
With freedom in Christ our Lord, while the weeds can go ignored,
With our Savior right by our side, in Christ’s Spirit we shall abide,
To live daily, in the Light of God, led by our Lord’s staff and rod.
(Copyright ©04/2010)
Each morning I pass on my way to work
Each morning I pass on my way to work
A clock in a tower
And I look towards it with anxious eyes
To make sure of the hour.
But the sun gets up at the back of the tower
With a flare and a blaze
Hiding the time and the tower from my sight
In a blissful haze.
'I am the marker of time' says the sun.
Taken unawares,
I believe for the nonce he is lord of the day
And am rid of my cares.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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From The Tower Of Babel
From the tower of babel
let me see you rise...
one by one
...by one.
From the tower of babel
let me see you
united...
divided...
united...
again and again
...and again.
From the tower of babel
let me see the world
lightened...
darkened...
lightened...
again and again
...and again.
From the tower of babel
let me see you rise
...my dear.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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The Ghost of Tower Two
The piled debris had been removed
The smell of death was gone
The first time she appeared to me
one cool September morn
Translucent and ethereal, to my disbelieving eye
Like many a wingless angel who’d tried and failed to fly
Whatever was she doing here, why now and not before
peering in my window on the forty second floor.
I felt a chill – a sense of dread I’d never felt before
My superstitious peasant brain was coming to the fore.
And yet I sensed no threat of doom, no anger out of you
floating there before me, the ghost of tower two.
There was sadness in your eyes for all you had foregone
Deprived of youth and love and life-all vanished now and gone
As morning light began to glow you faded from my view
But I will not forget you soon, the ghost of tower two.
Perhaps she’s seeking closure, the discovery of a bone
Or has unfinished business that keeps her here alone
Or maybe we’ve forgotten them- what we promised not to do
And deserve now to be haunted by the ghost of tower two.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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His True Church
I know many religious people, and one Church with no steeple,
A church that’s built with no walls, built on only believing souls,
Built upon an Eternal Foundation, that being our very Salvation,
Built upon The One Cornerstone, and that is Jesus Christ alone.
Many, who worship in a building, to Truth alone, are unyielding,
Building a church on tradition, God’s Truth, with man’s addition,
Added to the work finished by, Jesus Christ who reigns on high,
Ignoring His words “it is finished”, Grace by many is diminished.
Men making a way to Heaven, not by grace but religious leaven,
Building church in a human way, as they lead many souls astray,
As many souls weekly perch, in the pews of a manmade church,
Relying on their religious activity, to help them work into eternity.
“I will build my Church” He said, that was Christ, who is the Head,
Head of His True Church on earth, filled with souls, by New Birth,
All members being Born Again, into His Church, not one of men,
You’ll find, you no longer search, as a member of God’s Church.
Jesus is the Way, Truth and Life, as Head of the Church of Christ,
And each of us is a living stone, built through faith in Christ alone,
His Church He proceeds to build, to complete as His Father willed,
Leading the only True Church friend, as others shall see in the end.
Brother Can You Spare A Dime
Once I built a railroad, made it run
Made it race against time
Once I built a rairoad, now its done
Brother can you spare a dime?
Once I built a tower to the sun
Brick and rivet and lime
Once I built a tower, now its done
Brother can you spare a dime?
Once in khaki suits
Gee, we looked swell
Full of that yankee doodle de dum
Half a million boots went slogging through hell
I was the kid with the drum
Say dont you remember, they called me al
It was al all the time
Say dont you remember, Im your pal!
Buddy can you spare a dime?
Once I built a railroad, made it run
Made it race against time
Once I built a rairoad, now its done
Brother can you spare a dime?
Once I built a tower to the sun
Brick and rivet and lime
Once I built a tower, now its done
Brother can you spare a dime?
Once in khaki suits
Gee, we looked swell
Full of that yankee doodle de dum
Half a million boots went slogging through hell
I was the kid with the drum
Say dont you remember, they called me al
It was al all the time
Say dont you remember, Im your pal!
Buddy can you spare a dime?
(jay gorney/e.y.harburg)
song performed by by George Michael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Once Upon A Poem
In the Mad-Poetic world,
Of a lonely Ivory Tower,
Was a Poet never heard,
For it never was his hour.
He had gone and warned the World,
Of impending, danger, power,
But the people kept on dancing,
Just like fools, around his tower.
Poets, Idealists and Lovers,
This old World has never changed,
Poets, stay in Ivory Tower
And pretend you are deranged.
poem by Sandra Feldman
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A Tower of Power
We will build a tower
With unbridled spring-water attitudes
Flowing with fires of charity
For all the suffering multitudes
Dispossessed and swallowing poverty
We will give them power
We will build a tower
With lots of windows and no ears
With promises for those who have ceased their quest
For the young and old in years
For those who no longer turn west
We will give them power
We will give them power
Give them tomorrows and rainbows in tomorrow’s flowers
Help them fill pitchers with milk, honey, and cream
Reap the green of crops they have never seen
Shelter them from the cold, black screams
They will scale the tower
We will build a tower
They will scale like goats and soar like eagles
Who climbs higher than these birds?
They will peer through rose-colored gothic windows
And see the many rainbows of blooming flowers spilling colors
They will have the power
We will build a tower
For those near and far
Those who lost their dreams
Those who ceased the quest
Those no longer traveling west
Our actions will speak louder than words
They will sing the music of the birds
Learn to disregard the terms
Of all their unanswered yearns
- June 5,2007
poem by Ben Gieske
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Chou Nu Er
In days when I was young and didn't know the taste of sorrow
I like to climb the storied tower,
I like to climb the storied tower;
To write the latest odes I forced myself to tell of sorrow.
Now that I understand the taste of sorrow altogether
I would like to tell, but stop,
I would like to tell, but stop;
Instead I say, 'What a cool day! Such lovely autumn weather!'
When young, I knew not the taste of sorrow,
But loved to mount the high towers;
I loved to mount the hight towers
To compose a new song,urging myself to talk about sorrow.
Now that I have known all the taste of sorrow,
I would like to talk about it, but refrain;
I would like to talk about it, but refrain,
And say merely: 'It is chilly; what a fine autumn!'
Tower of Baghdad
One day, an angel will appear and take
those cool dark glasses from your eyes,
the mask that hides your creeping fear
that gold, nor sweat, nor persuasion,
nor clever games, nor brutal power,
will save the sagging base of human pride
on which you built your royal tower,
in tribute to yourself...
And then, perhaps, you'll understand
and, trembling, bow your head
and, weeping, see your mighty tower tumble.
Like all man's monuments to man,
it once must crash, its concrete crumble,
its dust be scattered by the winds
And never will you build again
upon mere sand...
poem by Willem VanVoorthuysen
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The foreign press seems obsessed with the Freedom Tower, as if it was the only thing going on here. In fact, we're trying to keep a huge juggling act in balance, with the tower as just one of the many balls in play.
quote by Daniel Libeskind
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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