A trusty comrade is always of use; and a chronicler still more so.
quote by Arthur Conan Doyle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
So I do not consider myself a chronicler of my fatherland or even a chronicler of Havana.
quote by Guillermo Cabrera Infante
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Poem For A Friend In Ohio
i shall be
the chronicler of
your pain
i do not understand
it actually
i pretend i feel it
i have respect for it
and so i keep
writing
it is you who knows
everything
about you and your
pain
it is only you who
knows where
the cure is
when you leave us
we understand
there is no cure
and that is the saddest
fact that i
have written
i am the chronicler
of your pain
inside that moon
that host with some
blood stains
i am the sadder part of
you
that spectator
when you pass by
that spot where
two flaming suns
just recently
set.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It happened one day
To Comrade Leon.Trotsky!
Today is the May Day isn't it?
I dreamed last night the mass rallying in my poor heedless island for solidarity.
This may be a soliloquy my dear comrade.
Oh! What a catastrophe?
A headless inhuman jackal was forced to split your precious brain into halves by the cruel hearts.
* To Comrade poetess Sandra.Fowler in gratitude.
(Many thanks for your valuable prayers and our political asylum petition referred to an immigration judge for further inquiries in Los Angeles on the 10 th of June,2008)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Wife
Trusty, dusky, vivid, true,
With eyes of gold and bramble-dew,
Steel-true and blade-straight,
The great artificer
Made my mate.
Honour, anger, valour, fire;
A love that life could never tire,
Death quench or evil stir,
The mighty master
Gave to her.
Teacher, tender, comrade, wife,
A fellow-farer true through life,
Heart-whole and soul-free
The august father
Gave to me.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Dagger
I like you well, O trusty dagger mine,
My comrade wrought of cool Damascus steel!
Forged were you by the Georgian with revenge in the mind,
By the Circassian free - for war were you made keen.
A lily-white hand it was gave you to me -
You were affection's keepsake, its last gift...
Not blood, but pearl-like tears born of the agony
Of bitter parting down your blade ran swift.
Her dark eyes rested, full of secret pain,
Of sadness and of mystery, upon
My face, and like yourself when lit by flickering flame,
Now clouded and turned dull, now glowed and shone.
O dagger, love's mute pledge, you will my true
Friend stay, and an example set to me, a wanderer:
For faithful, yes, and firm of soul like you
I'll be like you that tempered was by fire.
poem by Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wounds
Can we bandage and bathe my comrade?
His wounds are advertised, all over his body.
The bones are blasted, beaten and he is bankrupt,
So horrifying is his condition, that I feel for him.
The climate of this planet has changed
And he has changed like a corpse.
Can we dress his combat injuries of blood?
He fought for ten people, and ten commandments
Were followed, with the idea of striking rich.
My comrade is skilled in terror,
And I am adept at the wound.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
United Front Song
And because a man is human
He'll want to eat, and thanks a lot
But talk can't take the place of meat
or fill an empty pot.
So left, two, three!
So left, two, three!
Comrade, there's a place for you.
Take your stand in the workers united front
For you are a worker too.
And because a man is human
he won't care for a kick in the face.
He doesn't want slaves under him
Or above him a ruling class.
So left, two, three!
So left, two, three!
Comrade, there's a place for you.
Take your stand in the workers united front
For you are a worker too.
And because a worker's a worker
No one else will bring him liberty.
It's nobody's work but the worker' own
To set the worker free.
So left, two, three!
So left, two, three!
Comrade, there's a place for you.
Take your stand in the workers united front
For you are a worker too.
poem by Bertolt Brecht
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Ballad of the Thoughtless Waiter
I saw him lying cold and dead
Who yesterday was whole.
"Why," I inquired, "hath he expired?
And why hath fled his soul?
"but yesterday," his comrade said,
"All health was his, and strength;
And this is why he came to die--
If I may speak at length.
"But yesternight at dinnertime
At a not unknown café,
He had a frugal meal as you
Might purchase any day.
"The check for his so simple fare
Was only eighty cents,
And a dollar bill with a right good will
Came from his opulence.
"The waiter brought him twenty cents.
'Twas only yesternight
That he softly said who now is dead
'Oh, keep it. 'Ats a' right.'
"And the waiter plainly uttered 'Thanks,'
With no hint of scorn or pride;
And my comrade's heart gave a sudden start
And my comrade up and died."
Now waiters overthwart this land,
In tearooms and in dives,
Mute be your lips whatever the tips,
And save your customers' lives.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ich Hatt' Einen Kameraden (I Had A Comrade)
Ich hatt' einen Kameraden,
Einen bessern findst du nit.
Die Trommel schlug zum Streite,
Er ging an meiner Seite
In gleichem Schritt und Tritt.
Eine Kugel kam geflogen:
Gilt's mir oder gilt es dir?
Ihn hat es weggerissen,
Er liegt vor meinen Füßen
Als wär's ein Stück von mir
Will mir die Hand noch reichen,
Derweil ich eben lad'.
'Kann dir die Hand nicht geben,
Bleib du im ew'gen Leben
Mein guter Kamerad!
I Had a Comrade
In battle he was my comrade,
None better I have had.
The drum called us to fight,
He always on my right,
In step, through good and bad.
A bullet it flew towards us,
For him or meant for me?
His life from mine it tore,
At my feet a piece of gore,
As if a part of me.
His hand reached up to hold mine.
I must re-load my gun.
'My friend, I cannot ease your pain,
In life eternal we'll meet again,
And walk once more as one.'
Translated by Frank Petersohn
I Had a Comrade
I had one faithful comrade
'Ere we heard the trumpet's call,
And we pledged our hearts forever
In battle joined together
To beat the foe or fall.
A musket shot came screaming
To seal his fate or mine
Right at my feet he stumbled,
And friendship's shrine it crumbled
Around that friend of mine.
His hand is blindly seeking
The clasp I cannot give
For duty calls me onward
Farewell my dying comrade,
Our love shall ever live.
Translated by Arthur Kevess
poem by Johann Ludwig Uhland
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ambition makes more trusty slaves than need.
quote by Ben Jonson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Woes Versus Rues II
One on one, against and with each other
What's a bottle of alcohol?
"Brothers are bound to each other…"
I listened carefully, the smoke lifting
"Because they are bound by blood, "
I listened carefully, remembering everything
"tethered by compulsory empathy."
I listened carefully, the whiskey sweating
"I do not want that..."
I listened carefully, the sweat soldering down
"I want to be your comrade."
I listened carefully, the echoes rupturing painfully
I have never asked:
"What is a comrade? "
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Youth
O YOUTH, sweet comrade Youth, wouldst thou be gone?
Long have we dwelt together, thou and I;
Together drunk of many an alien dawn,
And plucked the fruit of many an alien sky.
Ah, fickle friend, must I, who yesterday
Dreamed forwards to long, undimmed ecstasy,
Henceforward dream, because thou wilt not stay,
Backward to transient pleasure and to thee?
I give thee back thy false, ephemeral vow;
But, O beloved comrade, ere we part,
Upon my mournful eyelids and my brow
Kiss me who hold thine image in my heart.
poem by Sarojini Naidu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It Doesnt Matter To Me
Listen comrade I dont care
How long you want to grow your hair
It doesnt matter to me
Hey lady have you heard the news?
You can burn your wig and burn your shoes
It doesnt matter to me
But theres something bigger than my vcr
Something important and its waiting for you
Oh yeah
Knock it off pal I heard your story before
Tell me something new thats what Im waiting for
It doesnt matter to me
cause theres a train comin into the station
But its headin for a new destination
And I tell you my friend you better count me in
Listen comrade I dont care
If you ever change your underwear
It doesnt matter to me
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Wayfaring Song
0 who will walk a mile with me
Along life's merry way?
A comrade blithe and full of glee,
Who dares to laugh out loud and free
And let his frolic fancy play,
Like a happy child, through the flowers gay
That fill the field and fringe the way
Where he walks a mile with me.
And who will walk a mile with me
Along life's weary way?
A friend whose heart has eyes to see
The stars shine out o'er the darkening lea,
And the quiet rest at the end o' the day-
A friend who knows, and dares to say,
The brave, sweet words that cheer the way
Where he walks a mile with me.
With such a comrade, such a friend,
I fain would walk till journey's end,
Through summer sunshine, winter rain,
And then? - Farewell, we shall meet again!
poem by Henry Van Dyke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Mile With Me
O who will walk a mile with me
Along life's merry way?
A comrade blithe and full of glee,
Who dares to laugh out loud and free,
And let his frolic fancy play,
Like a happy child, through the flowers gay
That fill the field and fringe the way
Where he walks a mile with me.
And who will walk a mile with me
Along life's weary way?
A friend whose heart has eyes to see
The stars shine out o'er the darkening lea,
And the quiet rest at the end o' the day,--
A friend who knows, and dares to say,
The brave, sweet words that cheer the way
Where he walks a mile with me.
With such a comrade, such a friend,
I fain would walk till journeys end,
Through summer sunshine, winter rain,
And then?--Farewell, we shall meet again!
poem by Henry Van Dyke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Adoration Of The Kings
From the Nativity
which I have already celebrated
the Babe in its Mother's arms
the Wise Men in their stolen
splendor
and Joseph and the soldiery
attendant
with their incredulous faces
make a scene copied we'll say
from the Italian masters
but with a difference
the mastery
of the painting
and the mind the resourceful mind
that governed the whole
the alert mind dissatisfied with
what it is asked to
and cannot do
accepted the story and painted
it in the brilliant
colors of the chronicler
the downcast eyes of the Virgin
as a work of art
for profound worship
poem by William Carlos Williams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Dying Soldier
Yes! raise me on your arm, Dick Dale,
My comrade old and true.
And let me of the glad earth take
One last and lingering view.
When yet a few brief moments more
Of this flittering hour have fled,
You’ll shed an old friend's tear, Dick Dale,
Above your comrade's head.
We fought together, side by side,
In many a bloody fray,
From Malvern Hill's dark hour of strife,
To fierce Antietam's day.
And when again the 'long roll' calls,
For battle to prepare,
You will not fail the flag, Dick Dale,
But I shall not be there.
You will not soon forget me, Dick!
I know it by that sigh;
I know it by those tears that shine
In your half averted eye.
But my dear old comrade's heart will swell,
I know with honest pride,
When he thinks that for the grand old flag,
His old companion died.
Cut off this light brown lock, Dick Dale,
For the girl that waits at home.
Yes! Hoping waits her soldier love,
Who never more can come.
'Twill soothe perhaps her bleeding heart
To know that watched by you,
The boy she loved, at least has died,
With one who loved him too.
You'll visit all the quaint old nooks
We sought when we were boys,
And thoughts of me will come, Dick Dale,
With thoughts of childhood's joys;
And when you reach the old playground
Where once you used to play,
You’ll not forget your friend, Dick Dale,
In his lone grave far away.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Terzanelle to a pet Cobra
Within your exposed white fangs
I look into the abyss
where death hangs
and with a soft hiss
you come erect.
I look into the abyss
without my own neglect
with a deadly sting
you come erect
and I see friendship in the hissing thing
being a comrade in loneliness.
With a deadly sting,
spreading your hood to some as a token of holiness
you come to peace closing the recess
being a comrade in loneliness
and sail over me as if with a pre-creation caress.
Within your exposed white fangs
you come to peace closing the recess
where death hangs.
[Reference: To a pet Cobra by Roy Campbell.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!