Don't go to the grave with life unused.
quote by Bobby Bowden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Mother's Day
Upon the day that I was born, my Mother gave me life -
A fragile baby so forlorn unused to pain and strife,
Unused to light that shone above, unused to all the glare...
I was her pride and joy to love, forevermore to share...
Upon the day she took me home, she held me by the hand.
It didn't matter where we'd roam, for God had something planned.
When Schooldays took me far away, each evening I returned.
She helped me every single day beyond the facts I'd learned.
She was a rock, a face that smiled, a great encouragement.
She gave her best to help her child as through the years we went.
The decades passed and she grew old till Jesus said, 'Be brave! '
To me, she was as good as gold till laid within her grave...
The tears still sting upon my eyes and fall upon my cheeks...
Memories share a love so nice and through these, she still speaks.
Each Mother's Day, I pause to pray, remembering her love.
She's now with Jesus every day... In Heaven, blessed above...
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Indifference Eating Ozone Layer
global
warming
issue
is an
abused
concept
considering
technology
to safe restore
our Ozone Layer
exists in multiple
forms all unused
remains
abused
unused
at our need
humanities... atmosphere
collective cost
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Burn Unused
“TO BURN UNUSED”
“To burn unused”
To be needed by no one
A burden to family and friends
A burden even
To the health – care – system.
Useless, sick, old-
Wondering how once a long time ago
One was a human being
And got somehow-
Without wanting or trying to-
To being
Something else.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To the Lat
Of all who ever were or been.
Of all who breathed in hope of sin.
Frank Buckles was the last of all
the Doughboys, and the last to fall.
He enlisted while still underage
Was “over there” by seventeen.
Then was prisoner of the Japanese
During World War Two in the Philippines.
A decade and a century
A long and eventful life he led.
After the battle had been won
He walked among the newly dead
He took from one an unused week,
from another, an unused day in spring.
From his colonel, a month he’d never see
Thus Frank amassed his century.
At the end he was a living ghost
His wrinkled skin thin, parchment- like
If those ignorant armies were like a blizzard
He was the last soiled speck of white.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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An unused life is an early death.
quote by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Ireland
FAR hence, amid an isle of wondrous beauty,
Crouching over a grave, an ancient, sorrowful mother,
Once a queen--now lean and tatter'd, seated on the ground,
Her old white hair drooping dishevel'd round her shoulders;
At her feet fallen an unused royal harp,
Long silent--she too long silent--mourning her shrouded hope and
heir;
Of all the earth her heart most full of sorrow, because most full of
love.
Yet a word, ancient mother;
You need crouch there no longer on the cold ground, with forehead
between your knees;
O you need not sit there, veil'd in your old white hair, so
dishevel'd; 10
For know you, the one you mourn is not in that grave;
It was an illusion--the heir, the son you love, was not really dead;
The Lord is not dead--he is risen again, young and strong, in another
country;
Even while you wept there by your fallen harp, by the grave,
What you wept for, was translated, pass'd from the grave,
The winds favor'd, and the sea sail'd it,
And now with rosy and new blood,
Moves to-day in a new country.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Murrow Turning Over In His Grave
All the sainted sinners
They pay handsomely
And eventually?
They make the weapons
And they run the prisons
And they sell the justice
Cause being guilty is
Just good business
And well be standing on
The borderline
Aint no one there gonna
Stop it now
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Better watch out
Murrow turning over in his grave
Hes gonna turn wild
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Better watch out
Murrow turning over in his grave
Hes gonna run wild
Half-closed eyes
And the countrys deadly
Do you feel the ooze as your brain drains out
From your pneumatic drills and sharpening knives
Blood in the sky
Are you dead or alive?
All the restless people and the bitter green
Well it fakes this gold, makes the spirit mean
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Better watch out
Murrow turning over in his grave
Hes gonna turn wild
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Better watch out
Murrow turning over in his grave
Hes gonna run wild
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No matter what his position or experience in life, there is in everyone more latent than developed ability; far more unused than used power.
quote by James Cash Penney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Night Watchman
For the past three months,
I have been buried ina grave without a name on;
Because, nobody knew my name.
One day in the night,
A watcman heard a noise from one of the graves;
And he did what was right.
He came closer to the grave side which seems to make a sound and,
Started to dig around it to be very sure of what he was hearing;
Until finally he saw me and pulled me out!
Yes, i am now alive and back to life;
And i do have the hope to live again,
So thanks to the night watcman!
Thank you Sir,
For you've saved my life;
And the roses around my grave will always remember you.
Thank you Sir,
For being there for me;
When, many thought that i was dead and gone.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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There You were
There you were
You’re always laughing at me
Is that how life’s supposed to be?
Each night I cry
Don’t tell me you don’t know why
But I rose up to live once more
From the grave of my depression.
You were too blind to see my real worth
But I lived again
There you were abusing me
Torturing my life inside out
I still don’t know why
Is that how life’s supposed to be?
But I rose up to live once more
From the grave of my depression
You were too blind to see my real worth
But I lived again
A day won’t go by
When I think of you
How cruel you were to me
And how I became stronger
Day by day
From the thoughts of you
Giving and not taking
From me, for me
And I rose up to live once more
From the grave of my depression
You were too blind to see my real worth
And I lived again
Now you are helping me
That’s how life’s supposed to be
There you are being a friend
But is it true until the end?
And you raised me up to live once more
From the grave of my depression
You re-gained your sight and saw my worth
And you lived again
There you were
poem by Lyrael Myrna
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Truly, Truly, This Is The End
They say deaths an open door
Into another room
Within the city of the dead
(Our New Kingdom)
They say we walk like dreams
Sharing the same breath
Seeing through the same eyes
(A collective spirit)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
They say the Earth it gives no peace
Nor does it take away
We all survive the grave
(Unfortunate eternal)
They say that in times past
A king walked in the sky
Until dethroned by man
(Tribe of Judas)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
Truly, truly, this is the end
Truly, truly, this is the end
Truly, truly, this is the end
Truly, truly, this is the end
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
This is the end
song performed by by Zao
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only A Soldier's Grave
Only a soldier's grave! Pass by,
For soldiers, like other mortals, die.
Parents had he - they are far away;
No sister weeps o'er the soldier's clay;
No brother comes, with tearful eye;
It's only a soldier's grave - pass by.
True, he was loving, and young, and brave,
Though no glowing epitaph honors his grave;
No proud recital of virtues known,
Of griefs endured, or triumphs won;
No tablet of marble, or obelisk high; -
Only a soldier's grave: - pass by.
Yet bravely he wielded his sword in fight,
And he gave his life in the cause of right!
When his hope was high, and his youthful dream
As warm as the sunlight on yonder stream;
His heart unvexed by sorrow or sigh; -
Yet, 'tis only a soldier's grave: - pass by.
Yet, we should mark it - the soldier's grave,
Some one may seek him in hope to save!
Some of the dear ones, far away,
Would bear him home to his native clay:
'Twere sad, indeed, should they wander nigh,
Find not the hillock, and pass him by.
poem by S.A. Jones
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Go often to the house of thy friend for weeds soon choke up the unused path.
Go often to the house of thy friend; for weeds soon choke up the unused path.
Go often to the house of a friend; for weeds soon choke up the unused path.
Only A Soldier's Grave
Only a soldier's grave! Pass by,
For soldiers, like other mortals, die.
Parents he had--they are far away;
No sister weeps o'er the soldier's clay;
No brother comes, with a tearful eye:
It's only a soldier's grave--pass by.
True, he was loving, and young, and brave,
Though no glowing epitaph honors his grave;
No proud recital of virtues known,
Of griefs endured, or of triumphs won;
No tablet of marble, or obelisk high;--
Only a soldier's grave--pass by.
Yet bravely he wielded his sword in fight,
And he gave his life in the cause of right!
When his hope was high, and his youthful dream
As warm as the sunlight on yonder stream;
His heart unvexed by sorrow or sigh;--
Yet,'tis only a soldier's grave:--pass by.
Yet, should we mark it--the soldier's grave,
Some one may seek him in hope to save!
Some of the dear ones, far away,
Would bear him home to his native clay:
'Twere sad, indeed, should they wander nigh,
Find not the hillock, and pass him by.
poem by Sidney Alroy Jonas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sickness
... live or die
Let them live in pain
As I look to the right
I see the horror filled within
Let the guilty pay
Back from the grave
From the life of everyone
From the bottom of the grave
Took the death of everyone
To those who fear their right
...
...
The fear that turns you inside out
Into the realms of no way out
Into a life of the utter doubt
a place in which you will exist
a place in which you're living dead
song performed by by Obituary
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A solitary, unused to speaking of what he sees and feels, has mental experiences which are at once more intense and less articulate than those of a gregarious man.
quote by Thomas Mann
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slaying The Dreamer [2008]
Sweet tulip graveyard of despair,
Lull the dreams I adore.
Dark lords seduce me in a glare
In worlds wielding unused lore.
Sweet tulip graveyard of despair,
Those meadows of heaven
Share the scent of a prayer
Slaying the romantic eleven.
Lull the dream I adore
For I am a lost maiden of poetic art.
Rotting along crimson shores,
Summoning thy slayer’s heart.
Dark lords seduce me in a glare
Leading astray to dreamer’s hideaway.
Receiving letters from faraway nightmares
Shall red suns enlighten the dreamer’s decay.
In worlds wielding unused lore
Our dreams remain romantic.
We live on forever more
In poetry within glyptic.
poem by Catherine Beahl
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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