I have, alas, only one illusion left, and that is the Archbishop of Canterbury.
quote by Sydney Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In my time as Archbishop of Canterbury I've seen a growing sense of unity and mission.
quote by George Carey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Well the wedding in the words of the Archbishop of Canterbury was a fairy tale and there was a huge public impress, investment of goodwill, affection and indeed money in this Institution. It was a huge success at the time.
quote by Anthony Holden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Loved a Lass
I loved a lass, a fair one,
As fair as e’er was seen;
She was indeed a rare one,
Another Sheba Queen:
But, fool as then I was,
I thought she loved me too:
But now, alas! she’s left me,
Falero, lero, loo!
Her hair like gold did glister,
Each eye was like a star,
She did surpass her sister,
Which pass’d all others far;
She would me ‘honey’ call,
She’d—O she’d kiss me too!
But now, alas! she’s left me,
Falero, lero, loo!
In summer time to Medley
My love and I would go;
The boatmen there stood read’ly
My love and me to row.
For cream there would we call,
For cakes and for prunes too;
But now, alas! she’s left me,
Falero, lero, loo!
Her cheeks were like the cherry,
Her skin was white as snow;
When she was blithe and merry
She angel-like did show;
Her waist exceeding small,
The fives did fit her shoe:
But now, alas! she’s left me,
Falero, lero, loo!
In summer time or winter
She had her heart’s desire;
I still did scorn to stint her
From sugar, sack, or fire;
The world went round about,
No cares we ever knew:
But now, alas! she’s left me,
Falero, lero, loo!
To maidens’ vows and swearing
Henceforth no credit give;
You may give them the hearing,
But never them believe;
They are as false as fair,
Unconstant, frail, untrue:
For mine, alas! hath left me,
Falero, lero, loo!
poem by George Wither
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Grand Illusion
I saw you in a dream, it hit me like a bright light
Flashing on a screen, visions of my whole life.
I used to chase the moment of desire
Back to when my young heart burned like a fire.
It was just a, nothing but a grand illusion.
Heart was quicker than the eye.
Nothing but a grand illusion,
Legend in my own mind.
I held you in my arms till the other side of midnight.
Kept you in my mind, you got me through some long nights.
Standing on the threshold of desire,
Caught between the madness and the fire.
Chorus
It was all a grand illusion.
Hand was quicker than the eye.
Nothing but a grand illusion,
Legends in our own minds.
I used to chase the moments of desire
Back to when my young heart burned like a fire.
It was just a, nothing but a, it was all a grand illusion.
Nothing but a grand illusion.
It was all a grand illusion,
Legend in my own mind.
It was just a grand illusion.
Nothing but a grand illusion.
It was just a grand illusion,
Legend in our own mind.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Religion And Magic
Who are these fellows?
Religion - Magic
Are they siblings who seem remarkably similar?
Are they identical twins - fantastically alike in all things?
Are they but two sides of the same coin - the coin of illusion?
Which came first - religion or magic?
The answer remains shrouded in the dim mists
Of our early steps on the stage of our existence
Magic - creator of illusion masked as reality
Religion - creator of illusion from reality
Both create illusion - purvey the same mask
Magic and religion present illusion as truth
This is my view
Another may be for you
Yet know this - If you believe illusion be truth or truth illusion
The result is the same.
Claude H Oliver II
4/28/2012
poem by Claude H Oliver II
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Really Really
You have the power
take on rule and show
what you want
what you really really want
is it me
or is it an illusion?
You have the game
take on role and play
what you desire
what you really really desire
am I there
or am I just an illusion?
You have the frame
take on reel and dream
what you imagine
what you really really imagine
am I there
or am I just an illusion?
You have the goal
take on real and action
what you hunt
what you really really hunt
is it me
or is it an illusion?
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Illusion
How do I begin and where do I end
who will be the one whom I can depend.
I fool myself, an illusion I see
Thinking that he'll be there for me.
But when at night I lay in bed
I reach out for him and nothing I get...
It's only an illusion that comes my way
Will I be ever lucky someday.
To have him, feel him and call him mine
I will then finally draw a line.
No more illusion then I will see
if this turns out into reality.
poem by Meena Mustafa
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Love's illusion
You are a dream illusion of my reality,
You are the illusion of my dreams,
You are an illusion.
I try to live in dreams,
You see,
Dreams are my reality,
But don't be worried, my love,
They will disappear
Like bubbles
In the air,
Without leaving
Any trace in my memory.
They can form the illusion
Of the ideal perfect love,
More fragile
Than anything I know.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Poverty Grass
Wild horses we
Pricked at the wind,
Never to know, alas;
That all the lord of our fortunes bought
For us
Was poverty grass.
Poverty grass
The paupered seed
So sickly poor, alas;
The souls of the great untamed grow weak
Despair
On poverty grass.
And you, my friend,
Grew sick awhile,
And cried and cried, alas;
While I grew fat on a flowering weed
Called pride
And poverty grass.
And when you left
The field to me
I almost died, alas;
For I was left in a fallow field
Piled high
In poverty grass.
Wild horses we
Pricked at the wind,
Never to know, alas;
That all the lord of our fortunes bought
For us
Was poverty grass.
24 January 1980
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Satiety
I have outlived my life, and linger on,
Knowing myself the ghost of one that was.
Come, kindly death, and let my flesh (being grass)
Nourish some beast's sad life when I am gone.
What joy is left in all I look upon?
I cannot sin, it wearies me. Alas!
I loathe the laggard moments as they pass;
I tire of all but swift oblivion.
Yet, if all power to taste the dear deceit
Be not outworn and perished utterly;
If it could be, then surely it were sweet--
I go down on my knees and pray: O God,
Send me some last illusion, ere I be
A clod--perhaps at rest--within a clod.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Ay Me, Ay Me, I Sigh the Scythe A-field
Ay me, ay me, I sigh to see the scythe a-field;
Down goeth the grass, soon wrought to wither'd hay:
Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, that beauty needs must yield,
And princes pass, as grass doth fade away.
Ay me, ay me, that life can not have lasting leave,
Nor gold take hold of everlasting joy:
Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, that time hath talents to receive,
And yet no time can make a suer stay.
Ay me, ay me, that wit can not have wished choice,
Nor wish can win that will desires to see:
Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, that mirth can promise no rejoice,
Nor study tell what afterward shall be.
Ay me, ay me, that no sure staff is given to age,
Nor age can give sure wit that youth will take:
Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, that no counsel wise and sage
Will shun the show that all doth mar and make.
Ay me, ay me, come, Time, shear on and shake thy hay,
It is no boot to balk thy bitter blows:
Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, come, Time, take everything away,
For all is thine, be it good or bad, that grows.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Lovely Illusions
Confidence, …‘shrinks’ tell us
is only an illusion
Reflecting only, the facts and feeling
At, and of, a particular time
Sounds a lot like the illusion of love, to me
Akin to the mental images
we conjure up in our minds,
and ascribe to a state so sublime
Whether tis fact or illusion,
I shall avoid the confusion
By having complete confidence
and seeking seclusion
In my lovely, misty world,
so unreal yet appealing
My sphere of fictitious fact and feeling
Of beguiling illusion and rhyme
poem by David Whalen
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Illusion
In a forest known as heartbreak
In a clearing in the wood
cross a pathway called confusion
Toward the garden of delight
Youll reach the river of desire
And meekly try and cross it
While the valley of love
Keeps avoiding you
Because its only an illusion
Only an illusion
Upon the hill of high ideals
You begin to wonder if its real
You are reaching sleeps oasis
You begin to wonder how you feel
But it happens so quickly
It doesnt fit into your scenes
Tossin and turnin
The star of so many scenes
Its only an illusion
Its only an illusion
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Illusion Of Power
What is it that turns you on to the illusion of power,
This thing that grabs you by the heart and makes you want to tear things down.
There is no reason why I should need all this power, but if you cross me now,
Im gonna tear your whole world down.
The illusion of power, things I feel, seem so real,
The illusion of power.
I cant get the emotional thing straight in my head,
Everything I love dies too soon, or is already dead.
Dont stand too close I spit and breathe fire,
Anything Ive got now you cannot desire.
You want to be my friend, I promise you nothing.
Nothing I can give you, nothing I can do for you,
Im being chased by the sins of my past and its killing me now,
Killing me now.
The illusion of power, things I feel, seem so real,
The illusion of power.
The illusion of power, its already set signed and sealed,
The illusion of power.
Fool, youre caught in a complex catacomb of your own inadequcies and pitiful weaknesses,
Your soul secretes insecurity.
So you live on the reflection side of the mirror; youre terrified of true power.
You fear
I can tell you stories of my
Shaded past and I can drag you down into the depths of my soul.
The illusion of power, things I feel, seem so real,
The illusion of power.
The illusion of power, its already set signed and sealed,
The illusion of power.
Why dont you come closer, promise a story I will tell, yeah,
Ill save you from your dreams, yeah
Ill save you from your dreams.
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spare me through your mercy, do not punish me through your justice.
quote by Anselm of Canterbury
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Thus you are just not because you give what is owed, but because you do what is appropriate to you as the highest good.
quote by Anselm of Canterbury
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He was as fresh as is the month of May.
Geoffrey Chaucer in The Canterbury Tales (1390)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You cannot make a good archbishop out of a rogue.
Madonna of the Evening Flowers
All day long I have been working,
Now I am tired
I call: "Where are you?"
But there is only the oak-tree rustling in the wind.
The house is very quiet,
The sun shines in on your books,
On your scissors and thimble just put down,
But you are not there.
Suddenly I am lonely:
Where are you? I go about searching.
Then I see you,
Standing under a spire of pale blue larkspur,
With a basket of roses on your arm.
You are cool, like silver,
And you smile.
I think the Canterbury bells are playing little tunes.
You tell me that the peonies need spraying,
That the columbines have overrun all bounds,
That the pyrus japonica should be cut back and rounded.
You tell me all these things.
But I look at you, heart of silver,
White heart-flame of polished silver,
Burning beneath the blue steeples of the larkspur,
And I long to kneel instantly at your feet,
While all about us peal the loud, sweet, Te Deums of the Canterbury bells.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Her hand I can no longer clutch
Her hand I can no longer clutch
Those languorous eyes I no longer see
Her limpid limbs I no longer touch
Her lover I can longer be
Capricious life has taken from me
The sweetest scent of sensuous life
The scent of my love, the lady behind ebony
So am left starving, grieving with strife
Winning no battles, fighting a war of attrition
I reach for an illusion of her fainting beauty
Till reality of life comes in to fruition
And all I am left with is an illusion of she…
No life can be life without the love of her
My eyes fill with tears all I see is a blur
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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