My character and good name are in my own keeping. Life with disgrace is dreadful. A glorious death is to be envied.
quote by Horatio Nelson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Charactered Nature
Keeping my soul is like keeping faith,
Character is important, like the balls of fire
That rage on in the very halls of fame.
They have fame as a grace, they have ugly traits
But beautiful on the outside.
The fire is strange, of keeping the soul,
Character is important.
May the goodness of life strike rich with success,
Too much success is developed with the character built.
May the outer happiness be an inner happiness,
Keeping the soul is like keeping character.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Joe Doe and Hemmingway
He envied Hemmingway
everything except his death;
he envied his ability to write
neat cut prose, to travel widely,
to fight in battles and wars and
survive, to make love to beautiful
women with ease, to drink and
smoke and do as he pleased, to see
things beyond the horizon of other
dangerous worlds. He envied Ernest
everything except his death; that was
too messy, too bloody, a step too far.
poem by Terry Collett
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As I suffer in the defence of my Country, I must consider this hour as the most glorious of my life -Remember that I die as becomes a British Officer, while the manner of my death must reflect disgrace on your Commander.
quote by John Andre
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Im In Disgrace
The first time that I saw you
You were the lady of my dreams.
The very next time I had to make you mine,
And I treated you like a queen.
The third time that I saw you
You treated me with such distaste,
Now I wish Id never seen your face.
Im in disgrace,
Im in disgrace.
Because I fell for your pretty face,
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
You captured me in your embrace.
Theres no use blaming me
And saying I was your ruination
Because it was you equally
That got us into this situation.
It wasnt lust, it wasnt rape,
It was just a mistake
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
Because I fell for your pretty face.
Im in disgrace. shes in disgrace.
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
You captured me in your embrace.
Was your love real or faked?
Or was it only infatuation?
Picture you in my place.
I wish Id acted with a little less haste.
Im in disgrace.
Im in disgrace.
Because I fell for your pretty face.
Oh what a waste. hes in disgrace.
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
Now my names dirt and Im disgraced.
Im in disgrace.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death, Inevitable Death
Death, inevitable Death.
So now You come to show Your world,
Hence the blackened cloak – unfurled.
And peering down upon my form
– Bereft of pity – Your eyes of storm.
Death, inexorable Death.
‘When? ’ The only question out of Thee.
My dream retorts 'But ne’er for me! ’
But now awake, I bid you so –
My giving tears cry ‘Where to go? ’
Death, adamant Death.
You cast Your spell and guide me 'way,
For life and I have had our day.
And what of me? I prey You, tell!
Be glorious in Heaven or gnarled in Hell?
Death, ineluctable Death.
Oh wiry ghoul, I'm here to follow –
I leave my body grey and shallow.
‘Come! ’ You bid in thund’ring tones,
‘Beg farewell to shattered bones.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Plain Sermons
I saw a man--and envied him beside--
Because of this world's goods he had great store;
But even as I envied him, he died,
And left me envious of him no more.
I saw another man--and envied still--
Because he was content with frugal lot;
But as I envied him, the rich man's will
Bequeathed him all, and envy I forgot.
Yet still another man I saw, and he
I envied for a calm and tranquil mind
That nothing fretted in the least degree--
Until, alas! I found that he was blind.
What vanity is envy! for I find
I have been rich in dross of thought, and poor
In that I was a fool, and lastly blind
For never having seen myself before!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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A Fresh Endeavour
So now I've taken leave of life,
I thought you'd like to know, I still
Possess a mind in love, oh wife;
A soulful eye to catch a show of
Silent beauty – ever yours;
An ear to pick the metaphors
Of tonal dance in words you say,
Grasp a thought in verse you pray
Inside your head, bemused of mind,
Softly mournful, intertwined with
Understanding tears.
I'll drift a whisper o'er to you
To tell that I am quietly calm;
Keeping time till your adieu
To flesh, upon the carol of a
Psalm of consummation. Now!
A fresh endeavour – we're forever
One together, resting yonder,
Cross our open plane of blue.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Vision of Death
Many paint a
picture of Death.
They say that it
carries a scythe
and is a skeleton.
They say it comes
when murder or
fear are lurking.
Still, others say
that Death is
the way to
escape the tedious
work of life.
I say, personally,
that Death is an
important factor.
Without Death,
what would be life?
Boring and
useless.
Without trials
and tests of character.
Death is
the whole
motivation of
life.
Celebrate Death,
for it lets us live.
That is my opinion.
That is my view
on the importance
and necessity
of Death.
poem by Jenna Dandurand
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Gather Ye Rosebuds
Gather ye rosebuds all who will,
and yet, though Time’s a-flying,
in one fair head, eternal still,
Life thrives, Death’s grin denying.
The glorious lamp of Heaven, the Sun,
as higher he is getting,
if e’er his praises were begun -
laws seasonal forgetting -
Go[l]d head embarrassed would be hung
as modesty’s essential,
in beauty all eclipsed are, st[r]ung
like pearls inconsequential.
God praises her, both first and last,
each other flits, - pale phantom, -
she’s envied now by Future, Past,
Life’s summons flows to summum...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Death is......
Death is the placid resort
Where one can coolly relax
Away from the tumultuous toil of
Life’s routine rigmarole
Death is the comforting refuge
Where one can take asylum from the
inevitable assault of adversities of life
enjoying an eternal blissful solace
Death is the strong citadel
Into which one can run and hide
To find the everlasting protection
From the invading aggressive strife
Death is the sweet home
Which one longs to reach at the dusk of life
After completing and un-completing
His secular chores for an eternal rest
Death is the enticing trophy
For which one prepares using all his talents
And runs fast to complete the course
To take it at the finishing point from the hands of the umpire
Death is not the hiss of a serpent
It is the kiss of the heavenly father given to those who repent
Death is not a state of swoon,
it is a splendid boon
Death is not a disheartening demotion,
It is a much awaited promotion
Death is not an inconsolable commotion,
It is a state of departing from emotion
Death is not an appalling notion,
It is an ecstatic heavenly motion
Death is not a dreadful rift..
It is a glorious gift
To enjoy that rapturous shift,
from this world one should inescapably drift
poem by Ch J Satyananda Kumar
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Good Character
I once sojourned in a land,
Seeking for solution to my bewildermernt.
The more I probed, the more I was confused.
Why do some fail where others succeed?
I called upon the deep to open my eyes
Suddenly, I found honour as the offspring
Of good character,
I also discorvered that success
Is embeded in good attitude
I then concluded that:
Good character is the torchlight to our paths
Good attitude is like a garment we wear daily
Through which people measure us
It is the mirror of our lives
I now know that good character
Is the backbone of success
Your father may have plenty
Like the Altilantic ocean
Your mother may have fleet of ships
You may have great inheritance
If you lacked good character
Your success will be like putrefied eggs
People will run away from
Like an isolated leper.
So, in all your ways
Be of good character
poem by Babatunde Aremu
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Men of genius are admired, men of wealth are envied, men of power are feared; but only men of character are trusted
Today... 'Our Passover Lamb
Blood from the lamb was on the lintel spread
and the people waited in fear and dread.
They could all hear the people outside cry
but the Angel of Death just passed them by.
Because a lamb had been slain and had died
and its blood upon the doorpost applied
Death did not visit them that dreadful day
but passed over them and went on its way.
**********
His life was given and His blood was shed
when He died that awful day in my stead.
The pure unspotted Lamb of God was He.
God saw the blood and then passed over me.
He gave His life to pay sins dreadful price
and offered Himself as a sacrifice.
Crying 'Father forgive' with His last breath
He snatched me from the very jaws of death.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Nip The Evil Intents
Oh Friend! To avoid shameful disgrace,
And earn favours in the Mighty Court,
Nip off the evil intents in the bud,
Lest they should assume the shape of words,
Which might take up the form of actions,
Actions become the character whole,
And the character bears instant catastrophe,
Bitter, painful and certainly tormenting.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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I'd Hate To Be You On That Dreadful Day
by Bob Dylan
Well, your clock is gonna stop
At Saint Peter's gate.
Ya gonna ask him what time it is,
He's gonna say, "It's too late."
Hey, hey!
I'd sure hate to be you
On that dreadful day.
You're gonna start to sweat
And you ain't gonna stop.
You're gonna have a nightmare
And never wake up.
Hey, hey, hey!
I'd sure hate to be you
On that dreadful day.
You're gonna cry for pills
And your head's gonna be in a knot,
But the pills are gonna cost more
Than what you've got.
Hey, hey!
I'd sure hate to be you
On that dreadful day.
You're gonna have to walk naked,
Can't ride in no car.
You're gonna let ev'rybody see
Just what you are.
Hey, hey!
I'd sure hate to be you
On that dreadful day.
Well, the good wine's a-flowin'
For five cents a quart.
You're gonna look in your moneybags
And find you're one cent short.
Hey, hey, hey!
I'd sure hate to be you
On that dreadful day.
You're gonna yell and scream,
"Don't anybody care?"
You're gonna hear out a voice say,
"Shoulda listened when you heard the word down there."
Hey, hey!
I'd sure hate to be you
On that dreadful day.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death is.....
Death is peaceful
Death is sharp pain in my heart
Death is feeling sadness
Death is deppresion
death is when my loved ones have gone away
Death is when i give up the fight
Death is when i cant think about whats right
Death is a good thing on my behalf
Death started when i gained life
Death is where ill go
Death is near
Death is what i see
Death lives inside of me
DEATH WILL STOP MY MISERY
poem by Angelique Paniagua
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Unwise acts
Giving advice to fools
Looking after a wife of loose character
Keeping company of bad friends
Nurturing a serpent
Providing service to impolite servant
Unwise act
And for these
The reward is death.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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No one of good character leaves behind a wasted life — whether they die in obscurity or renown. "Character," wrote the 19th Century evangelist, Dwight Moody, "is what you are in the dark." Your character is not tested on occasions of public scrutiny or acclaim. It is not tested in moments when the object of your actions is the regard of another. Your character is what you are to yourself, not what you pretend to be to yourself or others. Although human beings often attempt self-delusion, we cannot forever hide the truth about ourselves from ourselves. It will make itself known to us by means of our conscience despite our most strenuous effort to suppress it.
quote by John McCain
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I was controlling what I thought was my own personality. I didn’t even know myself. Unbeknownst to me, I was designing a character, which we all do in life. We do it from an early age. We find out how we can fit in. Survival makes us design a character that we think will keep us in good stead to get through this life.
Colin Farrell in Flaunt Magazine (2010)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Spectrum Of Death
SPECTRUM OF DEATH
esspeecee…14.09.95.
How death looks like?
As spectrum of
Cosmetic butterfly. [1]
How death smells like?
As drizzle sodden
Droughty clay. [2]
How death talks like?
As splashing of brooks
Over scattered stones. [3]
How death comes like?
As cat walks of hyena
For the prey. [4]
How death punishes like?
As rupture of
Life’s rapture. [5]
How death rewards like?
By keeping indelible footprints
Of my worthlessness. [6]
Copyright reserved by the Author
poem by Dr. Sakti P. Chakravorty
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