In youth men are apt to write more wisely than they really know or feel and the remainder of life may be not idly spent in realizing and convincing themselves of the wisdom which they uttered long ago.
quote by Nathaniel Hawthorne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I've Spent To Long
I've spent to long not caring,
I've spent to long away,
And now you want me back,
To live just like before,
You want to take my hand again,
You want my love to stay,
But I've spent to long not caring,
And my love it flew away.
I've spent to long in solitude,
I've spent to long in hope,
And now you want me in your arms,
To stay and hold you close,
You want to take my love again,
Feel despair take it's place,
But I've spent to long in solitude,
And you've lost this blood soaked race.
I've spent to long not caring,
Spent to long away,
Spent to long denying,
I've spent to long awake,
And now you want my slumber,
You want a love to stay,
But I've spent to long not caring,
And love? It fades away.
poem by Holly Heron
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Pure Egg.... (Break The Shell)
even the light we see
is merely the echo of light....
we always want to 'go there'...
never realizing we 'are there'...
we long for heaven,
heaven is within us.
we say, 'i found god'...
but god was not lost!
we search for wisdom,
while plodding barefoot
through the wisdom of ages.
we fight to be free,
not realizing,
we are inherently free...
we long to love another,
yet we are love.
what we are,
and what we know we are...
therein lies the problem!
if the leaf is the tree,
and the tree is the earth,
and the earth is sun and rain...
then are we not all of these?
break the eggshell,
what pours forth is egg,
pure egg!
break the shell!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Poem to Honor St. Valentine
If youth could age's wisdom ken,
& age could know youth's fire again
or age could Old Time's hands turn back
T'would then be youth with time to spend
& wisdom's strengths on which to depend.
This said, t'is never just white or black
For youth doth all discretion lack
& age tho' willing & desirous to play
To youth's vitality must passion give way
& such a conflict therein lies
for age is by youth most oft despised
& youth by age oft seen to whine,
“please, won't you be my valentine?”
poem by Hugh Cobb (12 February 2006)
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All the time spent idly, is spent wickedly, and is unfaithfulness to our masters.
quote by Jupiter Hammon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXVII
THE SAME CONTINUED
Your youth flowed on, a river chaste and fair,
Till thirty years were written to your name.
A wife, a mother, these the titles were
Which conquered for you the world's fairest fame.
In all things you were wise but in this one,
That of your wisdom you yourself did doubt.
Youth spent like age, no joy beneath the sun.
Your glass of beauty vainly running out.
Then suddenly again, ere well you knew,
Love looked upon you tenderly, yet sad:
``Are these wise follies, then, enough for you?''
He said;--``Love's wisdom were itself less mad.''
And you: ``What wouldst thou of me?'' ``My bare due,
In token of what joys may yet be had.''
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Forgiveness (Realization)
forgiveness is the energy
of realization...
realizing, the person you're
mad at or hurt by is just an
extension of yourself, another
part of you. realizing, the act
they've committed against you
is just a human act, whether
done on purpose, or without
thinking... realizing, that you
commit similar acts in your day
to day existence...
realizing, not forgiving, holding
on to the anger and pain, only
hurts you yourself! it becomes a
form of prison, self-imposed...
realizing, the mistake is not the
person!
forgiveness, the realization of
freedom in relationships!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Once Again I Write...
This pen, this paper is once again my savior.
I write to save my sanity.
I write to ease my heart.
I write to cleanse my soul.
I write to feel alive.
I write to keep my mind strong and my thoughts clear.
I write my words of sorrow, despair, pain, and love, as well as words of wisdom.
I write so that one day someone will truly know me.
This paper, this pen is once again my inspiration.
It is the inspiration to what I see.
It is the inspiration to what I hear.
It is the inspiration to what I feel.
It is the inspiration to the art I create.
It is the inspiration to what I draw.
It is the inspiration to the love for my daughter.
It is the inspiration to the love for my husband.
This pen, this paper is once again my savior.
Once again I write to say thank you my timeless friends.
Thank you for saving me time and time again.
poem by Sara Jo Andrews
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I Was Alone With A Poem I Could No Longer Write
I WAS ALONE WITH A POEM I COULD NO LONGER WRITE
I was alone with a poem I could no longer write-
It was a love poem
A poem of youth
A poem of great sudden happiness
And terrible desolate loss
It was a poem of wild laughter
And a poem of despair which could never end
It was a poem of youth
Of love in youth
And I could not write it any more
Because I am not young
And love that kind of love
The love of the young in all its desperation and beauty
Is far far from me-
I was alone with a poem I could no longer write-
And my life too is such a poem
Where only I am real
And she - whoever she is-
Is never to be anymore.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Amber Autumn (Sonnet)
To some, their youth was just sublime.
Then age crept up and over time
Their joy then faded with the years
As body changes led to fears.
Their days are spent rememb’ring when...
They long to see their youth again.
For those whose youth was filled with strife,
Their autumn years are best in life.
Now their retirement Is here,
Old age is far from what they fear.
Time now to enjoy and savour
Their rewards for past times labour.
It’s time to spread their wings and fly,
To enjoy God’s gifts ‘fore they die.
poem by Connie Marcum Wong
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I Have Spent My Life
I HAVE SPENT MY LIFE
I have spent my life
Walking
And Thinking
And Writing Poems.
A happy life
A blessed life
I thank God for it
As I now too
write these late afternoon lines
At Sunset
In a Jerusalem garden
Where the light breeze
And green intermingle.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Dan and Mary Ellen
With fondness I remember my aunt Mary Ellen the woman married to my uncle Dan
She was my role model and mentor long before I grew into a man
She taught me old songs from her childhood and poems to me she did recite
And she gave me valuable insights on Nature before I learned how to read and to write.
She and Dan in life did have their crosses their only child a girl in her childhood died
Their happiness at the birth of their daughter by the reaper's scythe to them denied
But Mary she got on with her life and her cross she bravely did bear
And her sense of loss never made her feel bitter and she never said life was unfair.
A lover of old poems and stories she knew the words of many a song
That she used to sing by the turf fire on Winter nights cold, wet, windy and long
She recited poems of the bards of Sliabh Luachra old greats from the centuries ago
So wise and knowledgeable for one self educated and so much about life she did know.
With Dan whom she spent many Seasons in the grave-yard at Cullen she lay
I mourned at the news of their passing though from Lisnaboy I live far away
They were generous with their wisdom and their knowledge of life they passed on down
And at peace their bones now rest in Cullen some seven miles from Millstreet Town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Old Homestead
'Tis an old deserted homestead
On the outskirts of the town,
Where the roof is all moss-covered,
And the walls are tumbling down;
But around that little cottage
Do my brightest mem'ries cling,
For 'twas there I spent the moments
Of my youth,--life's happy spring.
I remember how I used to
Swing upon the old front gate,
While the robin in the tree tops
Sung a night song to his mate;
And how later in the evening,
As the beaux were wont to do,
Mr. Perkins, in the parlor,
Sat and sparked my sister Sue.
There my mother--heaven bless her!--
Kissed or spanked as was our need,
And by smile or stroke implanted
In our hearts fair virtue's seed;
While my father, man of wisdom,
Lawyer keen, and farmer stout,
Argued long with neighbor Dobbins
How the corn crops would turn out.
Then the quiltings and the dances--
How my feet were wont to fly,
While the moon peeped through the barn chinks
From her stately place on high.
Oh, those days, so sweet, so happy,
Ever backward o'er me roll;
Still the music of that farm life
Rings an echo in my soul.
Now the old place is deserted,
And the walls are falling down;
All who made the home life cheerful,
Now have died or moved to town.
But about that dear old cottage
Shall my mem'ries ever cling,
For 'twas there I spent the moments
Of my, youth,--life's happy spring.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Y' In Your Name?
The divining rod which is searching for water
Looks like a Y if you remember.
With your Y in all your life you will be a searcher,
Going on with an open mind for something newer.
Some of you will search for some new wisdom,
Some just for a newer flower blossom,
Big or small search all brings something new,
Even if you just search constantly for your keys, a tool or a screw.
If you choose to search for spiritual wisdom,
Your life can change for an everlasting stardom.
So, choose wisely how to use your Y,
Search for something useful, not just asking aimlessly, why?
poem by LaSoaphia QuXazs
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The Poet And The Baby
How's a man to write a sonnet, can you tell,--
How's he going to weave the dim, poetic spell,--
When a-toddling on the floor
Is the muse he must adore,
And this muse he loves, not wisely, but too well?
Now, to write a sonnet, every one allows,
One must always be as quiet as a mouse;
But to write one seems to me
Quite superfluous to be,
When you 've got a little sonnet in the house.
Just a dainty little poem, true and fine,
That is full of love and life in every line,
Earnest, delicate, and sweet,
Altogether so complete
That I wonder what's the use of writing mine.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Where so many hours have been spent in convincing myself that I am right, is there not some reason to fear I may be wrong
quote by Jane Austen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where so many hours have been spent in convincing myself that I am right, is there not some reason to fear I may be wrong?
quote by Jane Austen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Youth Youth Youth
Youth youth youth
Youth youth youth
Never wanna be an adult
Always wanna be in revolt
Youth youth youth
Youth youth youth
Don't wanna spend my life saving up for things
Don't wanna have what a steady job brings
I don't want security
Don't want responsibility
Don't wanna stay at home not making any noise
I've always got to be out
I've always got to have a choice
I don't want security
Don't want responsibility
Youth youth youth
Youth youth youth
I don't want no uniform
I don't want no book of rules
Youth youth youth
Youth youth youth
Never wanna be an adult
Always wanna be in revolt
Youth youth youth
Youth youth youth
I don't want no uniform
I don't want no book of rules
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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More Than Useless
I feel like
I would like
To be somewhere else doing something that matters
And I'll admit here
While I sit here
My mind wastes away and my doubts start to gather
What's the purpose
It feels worthless
So unwanted like I've lost all my value
I can't find it
Not in the least bit
And I'm just scared, so scared that I'll fail you
And sometimes I think that I'm not any good at all
And sometimes I wonder why, why I'm even here at all
But then you assure me
I'm a little more than useless
And when I think that I can't do this
You promise me that I'll get through this
And do something right
Do something right for once
So I say if I can't
Do something significant
I'll opt to leave most opportunities wasted
And nothing trivial
That life could give me will
Measure up to what might have replaced it
Too late look
My date book
Is packed full of days that were empty and now gone
And I bet
That regret
Will prove to get me to improve in the long run
I'm a little more than useless
And when I think that I can't do this
You promise me that I'll get through this
And do something right
Do something right for once
I'm a little more than useless
And I never knew I knew this
Was gonan be the day
Gonna be the day
That I would do something right
Do something right for once
I noticed
I know this
Week is a symbol of how I use my time
Resent it
I spent it
Convincing myself the world's doing just fine
Without me
Doing anything of any consequence
Without me
Showing any sign of ever making sense
Of my time
It's my life
And my right
To use it like I should
Like he would
For the good
Of everything that I would ever know
song performed by by Relient K
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wisely Love The Wise
The wise love wisely.
It’s said, that when the truly wise
surface from their sleep,
they see nought but heavenly blue
in which the world then gently, slowly shapes itself
as if this whole created world were but
a single act of love; and within that love,
their love is wisdom, knowledge, law;
as they emerge from their wise sleep,
this is what they are.
The wise love wisely; when they look at you,
(you who maybe meet them for
the first time; offer them perhaps
a flower from too hot a hand,
a fruit, a handkerchief…
or meet them by some heavenly accident,
they, like a comet through your life)
and their first so wise glance at you
sees nought but your perfection;
they do not doubt that you are they,
that they are you; and while they’re here
you share all this with them;
you’ve met yourself; for this
is what you are..
The wise are careful lovers
for love is care, and care is charity;
and yet the wise are widest, wildest,
most romantic lovers:
they throw, they strew their love
on all and every one and thing without a further thought,
offering simply, lawful freedom, happiness;
bidding love well as it flies away,
wishing you themself;
wishing you, yourself;
The wise love wisely;
for they know the secret law of love:
the more it’s given, the more there is
to give.
The wise love wisely;
so, they wear a wise disguise;
they look like you and me; because
we are that same disguise.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Moirai
When He came home from work that day
He said “Enough’s enough”.
“Let others built the widgets,
I have done that long enough.”
I’ll live a life of leisure,
crafting poetry and song.
Perhaps I’ll write short stories
or play my guitar all night long.”
Such boundless optimism
didn’t take Fate into account.
Fate, the foe of youth and love,
was lurking there about.
He thought that He had years of time
to write and think and putter.
Yet Fate was of another mind,
and a malediction muttered.
A tightness in the chest He felt.
A soreness in one arm.
He was sure that it was nothing.
Soon thereafter, He was gone
poem by John F. McCullagh
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