Autobiography begins with a sense of being alone. It is an orphan form.
quote by John Berger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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AN ORPHAN PARTING(İ f there were no sins..How would be aware of good things)
ı have got enough of everything
life and living
seen everything I had to see
enough and enough
that is enough
now..time is approaching
it is the era and time of parting
do not acquit me
do not bless me
if you want
do not forgive my wrong doings
sins and offenses
cause ı know and ı feel
in fact who is the one offended
born an orphan
grew an orphan
ı will leave this world an orphan
let them share
what I left behind
and remember me
but my poems
I am parting as an orphan
I want to live a new life
if there is one there
may be there
I will be an orphan
my FATHER the GODMetinb SAHİ N
poem by Metin Sahin
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No One Is Orphan, If Companion Is In Hearts!
No one is orphan here,
He that may come to your door
to test,
Whether you are orphan without
virtues,
When you have a little kindness to fellow men,
In them may certainly some fill
your heart with their gratitude
and love,
In that them, that Almighty
smiles laughs, O my dear, why you fear,
You are never an orphan,
When I am here to take care of you!
and you one day lived upto me,
And showed that no one can be
orphan, when I dwell in every heart!
And on that day,
not even,
your eyes,
but all your cells,
Comes to tear, Because the happiness of his
warmth we can't bear!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Autobiography is probably the most respectable form of lying.
quote by Humphrey Carpenter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An autobiography is an obituary in serial form with the last installment missing.
quote by Quentin Crisp
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Sonnet 2
my mind's eye from outer eye remove.
make senseless the argument of sense
that beauty not subject to sense prove
nor object to time that takes you hence.
then, mind from eye withdrawn,
in dark, sense may shine bright
and mind itself your beauty form,
forming mind to your illuminate.
but not thought's sense to hear
nor sense of mind in sense feel,
dimensional sight and intelligent ear
bereft of mind from mind would reel.
no war between your feature and form
exists except in eye - that does harm.
poem by Doug Bentley
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Orphan Girl
(gillian welch)
I am a orphan
On gods highway
But Ill share my troubles
If you go my way
I have no mother
No father no sister
No brother
I am an orphan girl
I have had friendships
Pure and golden
But the ties of kinship
I have not known them
I know no mother
No father no sister
No brother
I am an orphan girl
But when he calls me
I will be able
To meet my family
At gods table
Ill meet my mother
My father my sister
My brother
No more an orphan girl
Blessed savior
Make me willing
And walk beside me
Until Im with them
Be my mother
My father my sister
My brother
I am an orphan girl
Be my mother
My father my sister
My brother
I am an orphan girl
I am an orphan girl
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thus, in a real sense, I am constantly writing autobiography, but I have to turn it into fiction in order to give it credibility.
Katherine Paterson in The Spying Heart (1989)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Vision
As the sun begins to set on the horizon,
I walk down a lonely path towards the sea-
Know not do I its reason, its form no surprising:
Looking to land's end, I see a solitary vision looking back at me!
Far off in the distance, framed in it's solar glare
This beauteous vision, in all its amazing grace-
Begins to move toward me, until very nearly there
Soon I am able to take in the form's feminine face!
It then occurs to me that I know her, and have for all my days-
Though not had I laid eyes upon her for years nearly 2 score:
I had seen her every day of my life, in myriad ways-
I allowed that visage to fade, always needing more!
One day the vision came to me in yet another form,
This time though, always and ever, shall she stay and keep me warm!
Maurice Harris,30 October 2008
poem by Maurice Harris
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Without father - half orphan, without mother - complete orphan.
The Orphan Boy's Tale
Stay, lady, stay, for mercy's sake,
And hear a helpless orphan's tale,
Ah! sure my looks must pity wake,
'Tis want that makes my cheek so pale.
Yet I was once a mother's pride,
And my brave father's hope and joy,
But in the Nile's proud fight he died,
And I am now an orphan boy.
Poor foolish child! how pleased was I,
When news of Nelson's victory came,
Along the crowded streets to fly,
And see the lighted windows flame!
To force me home my mother sought,
She could not bear to see my joy;
For with my father's life 'twas bought,
And made me a poor orphan boy.
The people's shouts were long and loud,
My mother, shuddering, clos'd her ears;
'Rejoice! rejoice!' still cried the crowd;
My mother answered with her tears.
'Why are you crying thus,' said I,
'While others laugh and shout for joy?'
She kiss'd me -- and with such a sigh!
She called me her poor orphan boy.
'What is an orphan boy?' I cried,
As in her face I look'd and smil'd;
My mother through her tears replied,
'You'll know too soon, ill-fated child!'
And now they've toll'd my mother's knell,
And I'm no more a parent's joy;
O lady, -- I have learnt too well
What 'tis to be an orphan boy.
Oh! were I by your bounty fed!
Nay, gentle lady, do not chide,--
Trust me, I mean to earn my bread;
The sailor's orphan boy has pride.
Lady, you weep! -- ha? -- this to me?
You'll give me clothing, food, employ
Look down, dear parents! look and see
Your happy, happy orphan boy!
poem by Amelia Opie
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Man is An Orphan
No man died without being an orphan.
His mother dead, he is an orphan.
Wife and daughter are unfit to match her.
Mother alone has the drive to save him
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Add Assets To The Society
Competitive but not accommodating,
Energetic but not sympathetic,
Prosperous but not generous,
And aggressive but not considerate
You make your children at all cost.
You beam with their growth and your worth.
They would orphan you at a later stage
And orphan each other among themselves
Foe want of qualities you have ignored
To inculcate in their characters.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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It would follow that 'significant form' was form behind which we catch a sense of ultimate reality.
quote by Clive Bell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The De Facto Orphan
THE DE FACTO ORPHAN
I have lot of kith and kin
And sadly, living parents
Yet, I lived a life, full of pains
Lonely, as that of an hapless orphan
My boyhood days in the dark boarding halls
Youthful phase was spent in a disciplined hostel
Parents were prompt in paying the mess- bills
As an unfailing donor servicing the cause of or an orphan
They never knew the times I wept
Nor the nights that went unspent
Like a soldier coming home on an annual warrant
I returned to the ‘barracks' with moods so silent
Politely signing on the dotted- lines of the reports of progress
Duties of my parents ended there itself
Inwardly I am sick, in search of love, affection and parental caress
Banished from the family web, I prefer to be listed as an ORPHAN
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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The Opposite Begins
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
That one agitated,
Finds an exit and splits.
People known to create conflict,
Seek an attention they don't get...
Until,
The opposite begins.
Opposition steps in.
They pretend a trust to believe,
To have others perceive but...
The opposite begins,
For them.
Wake up and take notice,
That the opposite begins for them.
Those who charade innocence.
The opposite begins for them.
Those masking evil intent.
The opposite begins for them.
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
Well,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.
And...
That one agitated,
Finds an exit and splits.
But then,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.
That one who's had it,
Splits and runs into love...
To know the opposite begins,
When someone genuine comes in...
To view.
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
Well,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.
And...
That one who's had it,
Splits and runs into love...
To know the opposite begins,
When someone genuine comes in...
To view.
They want it quick.
And...
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
To then see someone who genuinely fits,
Well...
The opposite begins pursued.
Oh yes it does.
An opposite begins pursued.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Journey
when you can look
in the mirror,
and see your self naked
without running like hell...
the journey begins!
when you can look
at your every action,
judging your self honestly
by motive and intent...
the journey begins!
when you can give away
all that you cling to
without asking for anything
in return...
the journey begins!
when you can do the right thing
irregardless of the cost,
not caring what anyone says
or thinks...
the journey begins!
when you can see the faces
of God in the people you
despise the most, the ones
who've hurt you the most...
the journey begins!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Poverty's Child
Poverty's child,
An orphan on the street,
He runs for life,
He fights for food,
He has no home,
He has no shoes,
no mother, no father,
no nothing.
He dies young...
Poverty's child,
An orphan on the street.
poem by Joseph Fuller
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Old Glory Stands Alone
The stark white expanse, only broken by a grave stone,
Makes the Stars and Stripes seems to otherwise stand alone;
Truly, the only sign of color as far as the eye may see,
Old Glory stands alone, at The Forefathers' Cemetery.
A gentle zephyr begins, the flag begins to flap,
Maintaining sentry over many a soul, in an eternal nap!
Above, a majestic American Bald Eagle flies,
And peers down, with a sense of pride, we may only surmise,
Then, with what looks to be a very coy smile,
He turns abruptly, in a most majestic style!
The scene repeats in places both far and wide,
Where it evokes an immense sense of American pride
To all fortuitous enough to partake in its splendor-
The country we love is full of them-this is but one wide wonder!
poem by Maurice Harris
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A Damascene Moon
Green Tunisia, I have come to you as a lover
On my brow, a rose and a book
For I am the Damascene whose profession is passion
Whose singing turns the herbs green
A Damascene moon travels through my blood
Nightingales . . . and grain . . . and domes
From Damascus, jasmine begins its whiteness
And fragrances perfume themselves with her scent
From Damascus, water begins . . . for wherever
You lean your head, a stream flows
And poetry is a sparrow spreading its wings
Over Sham . . . and a poet is a voyager
From Damascus, love begins . . . for our ancestors
Worshipped beauty, they dissolved it, and they melted away
From Damascus, horses begin their journey
And the stirrups are tightened for the great conquest
From Damascus, eternity begins . . . and with her
Languages remain and genealogies are preserved
And Damascus gives Arabism its form
And on its land, epochs materialize
poem by Nizar Qabbani
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Since It Is The First Of August
The first of the month seems so promising,
Doesn't it?
An elevation of expectations begins.
And today,
Since it is the first of August...
There is a sense of a renewed committment to life,
Clinging onto the atmosphere.
It is as if the 'spirits' are granting us all,
Extra wishes!
Like the road of happiness is being cleared of debris.
The first of the month seems so promising,
Doesn't it?
An elevation of expectations begins.
Why do conflicts seem foolish to digest?
And all this talk about one's color and brain size...
Exposes the best of professed ignorance.
Making less sense to comprehend.
Isn't it ignorance that creates conflict?
Well...
It is the first day of August.
And soon Fall will remind us all,
Of the approaching holidays that will again amaze,
Our sentiments.
With no other requirements from us but to just exist!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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