Make haste! The tide of Fortune soon ebbs.
quote by Silius Italicus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Drinking The Ocean
Drink from the ocean with its tears overflowing,
Be free, please be free with the amount of water;
Drowning is permanent to the soul,
Be difficult as the tide, be steady now.
The tide ebbs one day and in the night it flows,
When your fat is dripping to make the body uniform.
By degrees the sun cooks you
And the sea is simmering for you,
Cooking the skull to make your brain twitch.
The brain is richer to a man when it bakes
Wherever it may be working.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ebb of Love
A love that wanes is as an ebbing tide,
Which slowly, inch by inch, and scarce perceived,
With many a wave that makes brave show to rise,
Fails from the shore. No sudden treason turns
The long-accustomed loyalty to hate,
But years bring weariness for sweet content,
And fondness, daily sustenance of love,
Which use should make a tribute easier paid,
First grudged, and then withholden, starves the heart;
And though compassion, or remorseful thoughts
Of happy days departed, bring again
The ancient tenderness in seeming flood,
Not less it ebbs and ebbs till all is bare.
O happy shore, the flowing tide shall brim
Thy empty pools, and spread dull tangled weeds
In streamers many-colored as the lights
Which flash in northern heavens, and revive
The fainting blossoms of the rocks; but thou,
O heart, whence love hath ebbed, art ever bare!
poem by Alfred John Church from Littell's Living Age, Volume 173, Issue 2244 (1887)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Old Man Say (Make Haste)
The beast rest there!
Go before the night draw near
Before ill-times wake
Cause then, It may all be late
So lad make haste
- *Guh dear lad!
Before next day
Harken to what *dis old man say
Make hay my lad
Unless be sad
Say I, make haste
Don't make good times waste
It's a wild wild world
- out *deh mi lad
And di wolves dem *nat suh kine
Go on now *mi lad
*Mek haste before its night
And me sure all will be right
*guh - go *mek - make *mi - my
*deh - there * kine - kind *di - the
*nat suh - not so *me - i'm *dis - this
Copyright © 2012
poem by Godfrey Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Passive Resistance.
Beneath the sky, the restless sea
Was lapping at the shingle shore.
As it had often done before.
The shingle resists stubbornly.
It won't surrender easily.
And when tide ebbs will restore
The pebbles from its endless store.
Kept in reserve permanently.
The shingle beach lies passively
The sea is forced to come and go.
Although it act aggressively
When the tide is in full flow.
It will retreat reluctantly
When tidal energy runs low.
Wednesday,29 February 2012
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Lucasta. The Rose.
I.
Sweet serene skye-like flower,
Haste to adorn her bower;
From thy long clowdy bed
Shoot forth thy damaske head.
II.
New-startled blush of FLORA!
The griefe of pale AURORA,
Who will contest no more,
Haste, haste, to strowe her floore.
III.
Vermilion ball, that's given
From lip to lip in Heaven;
Loves couches cover-led,
Haste, haste, to make her bed.
IV.
Dear offspring of pleas'd VENUS,
And jollie plumpe SILENUS;
Haste, haste, to decke the haire,
Of th' only sweetly faire.
V.
See! rosie is her bower,
Her floore is all this flower;
Her bed a rosie nest
By a bed of roses prest.
VI.
But early as she dresses,
Why fly you her bright tresses?
Ah! I have found, I feare;
Because her cheekes are neere.
poem by Richard Lovelace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Lucasta, the Rose
I.
Sweet serene skye-like flower,
Haste to adorn her bower;
From thy long clowdy bed
Shoot forth thy damaske head.
II.
New-startled blush of Flora!
The griefe of pale Aurora,
Who will contest no more,
Haste, haste, to strowe her floore.
III.
Vermilion ball, that's given
From lip to lip in Heaven;
Loves couches cover-led,
Haste, haste, to make her bed.
IV.
Dear offspring of pleas'd Venus,
And jollie plumpe Silenus;
Haste, haste, to decke the haire,
Of th' only sweetly faire.
V.
See! rosie is her bower,
Her floore is all this flower;
Her bed a rosie nest
By a bed of roses prest.
VI.
But early as she dresses,
Why fly you her bright tresses?
Ah! I have found, I feare;
Because her cheekes are neere.
poem by Richard Lovelace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rose
I.
Sweet serene skye-like Flower,
Haste to adorn her Bower :
From thy long clowdy bed,
Shoot forth thy damaske head.
II.
New-startled blush of Flora !
The griefe of pale Aurora,
Who will contest no more ;
Haste, haste, to strowe her floore.
III.
Vermilion Ball that's given
From lip to lip in Heaven ;
Love's Couches cover-led :
Haste, haste, to make her bed.
IV.
Dear Offspring of pleas'd Venus,
And Jollie, plumpe Silenus ;
Haste, haste, to decke the Haire
Of th' only, sweetly Faire.
V.
See ! Rosie is her Bower,
Her floore is all this Flower ;
Her Bed a Rosie nest
By a Bed of Roses prest.
VI.
But early as she dresses,
Why fly you her bright Tresses ?
Ah ! I have found I feare ;
Because her Cheekes are neere.
poem by Richard Lovelace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Boy Jack
1914-1918
'Have you news of my boy Jack?'
Not this tide.
'When d'you think that he'll come back?'
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.
'Has anyone else had word of him?'
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing and this tide.
'Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?'
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind-
Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.
Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Have You News of my Boy Jack?
'Have you news of my boy Jack?'
Not this tide.
'When d'you think that he'll come back?'
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.
'Has anyone else had word of him?'
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing and this tide.
'Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?'
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind-
Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.
Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lest not the night bereave in thine solitude
You sat with your solitude under the plenilune sky
And tell the shore to have a plangent sigh
Who was made by laws invisible to the eye
And be complaisant for you not to cry?
You tell the rain to pour?
To kiss your cheek and hide your tears at all
Do you believe that stars will close the canopy?
To give way to rain accordingly?
Thus your solitude found delight on refluence of tide?
blurted sounds with magic must abide?
Tell the moon that there's no ebbs of tide
The song it has you won't believe
Lest not the night bereave with thine solitude
if thy solitude won't compliment the dew
Though the night holds peaceful views
it follows a law, will you believe? Don't you believe it, Do you?
poem by Kristoffer Randolf Ramos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Strand beach
There’s a slight breeze over the sea tonight
and the tide ebbs out, but I can hear
the braking waves
and see the phosphorous
of their wake
and yet more silent
the brush of water on the sand
and the voices of the sea
sounds jubilant to me
and when the tide changes later
it grows stronger
and it’s as everything I hear
have the sounds of faith and hope
rising up louder and louder still
and as if we are moving into a new age
where man is beginning to comprehend
his role to his fellows
and the moon rises big and full
like a light guiding the way
and your hand in mine
burns with its own intensity
and the look in your big eyes
tells me how much you love me
with promises of a new tomorrow in them.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tiger--Tiger!
What of the hunting, hunter bold?
Brother, the watch was long and cold.
What of the quarry ye went to kill?
Brother, he crops in the jungle still.
Where is the power that made your pride?
Brother, it ebbs from my flank and side.
Where is the haste that ye hurry by?
Brother, I go to my lair to die!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fame And Fortune
Sittin' in the back of a limousine, feelin' just like a king
All the girls come runnin' to you, you're the latest thing
Sittin' up there at the top of the charts, lookin' like Mr. Cool
You take all the money, steal their hearts, they'll come runnin' to you
Your fame and your fortune, look what it brought you
All your fame and your fortune, you better take a look around
With your fame and your fortune, careful who you talk to
Or the fame and your fortune, watch it all tumble down, yeah, oh listen now
Now you're lookin' for inspiration, somethin' to say
When you find that it don't come easy, you find them running away
You had it all in the palm of your hand, and let it slip away
You made it big, ooh so big, and then you threw it all away
All your fame and your fortune, look what it brought you
Fame and your fortune, hey you better take another look
At your fame and your fortune, it set you up, then it caught you
Fame and your fortune, surely gonna let you down, hey tell me now
(Solo)
All your fame and your fortune, look what it brought you
Take your fame and your fortune, wait and take a look around
For your fame and your fortune, who do you talk to
'Bout your fame and your fortune, as it all comes tumbling down
Fame and your fortune, fame and your fortune, yes all come tumbling down
Fame and your fortune, fame and your fortune, all comes tumbling down...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do Not Believe
Do not believe, my dearest, when I say
That I no longer love you.
When the tide ebbs do not believe the sea -
It will return anew.
Already I long for you, and passion fills me,
I yield my freedom thus to you once more.
Already the waves return with shouts and glee
To fill again that same belovèd shore.
poem by Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fame & Fortune
Sittin in the back of a limousine, feelin just like a king
All the girls come runnin to you, youre the latest thing
Sittin up there at the top of the charts, lookin like mr. cool
You take all the money, steal their hearts, theyll come runnin to you
Your fame and your fortune, look what it brought you
All your fame and your fortune, you better take a look around
With your fame and your fortune, careful who you talk to
Or the fame and your fortune, watch it all tumble down, yeah, oh listen now
Now youre lookin for inspiration, somethin to say
When you find that it dont come easy, you find them running away
You had it all in the palm of your hand, and let it slip away
You made it big, ooh so big, and then you threw it all away
All your fame and your fortune, look what it brought you
Fame and your fortune, hey you better take another look
At your fame and your fortune, it set you up, then it caught you
Fame and your fortune, surely gonna let you down, hey tell me now
(solo)
All your fame and your fortune, look what it brought you
Take your fame and your fortune, wait and take a look around
For your fame and your fortune, who do you talk to
bout your fame and your fortune, as it all comes tumbling down
Fame and your fortune, fame and your fortune, yes all come tumbling down
Fame and your fortune, fame and your fortune, all comes tumbling down...
song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There But For The Grace Of God
An anthem to the human condition
Lead vocal: john miles
What kind of madness rule the world today
What earthly reason holding sway
There is no heaven at all
For some may weep
And some may sleep
While some may rise
And some may fall
No one is an island
No one born alone
No man can turn the tide of fortune on his own
Though some may dare to try
Say there but for the grace of God go you my friend
Say there but for the grace of God go i
Go i
And so we live in lives of fantasy
And dream of dreams that hold the key
And we follow like sheep
We thread the path
That leads to thee
We seek the soul that is not ours to keep
No one is an island
No one born alone
No man can turn the tide of fortune on his own
Though some may dare to try
Say there but for the grace of God go you my friend
Say there but for the grace of God go i
Go i
song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Make Haste
Make haste, make haste, no time to waste,
the sandman’s on the move!
The minutes chased, missspent, misplaced,
swift scattered are, remove
from life the paste thats interlaced
with love to leave the groove
by others faced with fears encased
within themselves! Improve
your chances paced by those who’ve raced
where most may fear, disprove
the double-faced, minds [s]oft, effaced.
let no one disapprove
Strong spirits graced with soul true, chaste,
which ever must reprove
all evil based on base, poor taste, -
which ever seeks to prove
Good may be traced, Right be embraced
in confidence – for you’ve
the need to haste to truth, yes haste,
for Time is on the move!
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: God, Show Me Better Times
Do turn the wheel of fortune in my way,
O God, let time and tide now favor me;
For long, I’ve struggled, suffered and did pray;
In life, I have been treated unfairly!
Though late, let not my labor go awaste;
I want to show the world that Truths triumph;
For wealth and name- I am in no great haste;
Let me some time into some success bump.
I am prepared to forgive/ forget past;
A better life in future, I must lead;
For want of time, I must be rather fast;
Let my poems help people, good lives lead.
Life isn’t the same to everyone always;
Let fruitful be our earthly stay all days.
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet VI
For why the gains doth seldom quit the charge:
And so say I by proof too dearly bought,
My haste made waste; my brave and brainsick barge
Did float too fast to catch a thing of naught.
With leisure, measure, mean, and many moe
I mought have kept a chair of quiet state.
But hasty heads cannot be settled so,
Till crooked Fortune gave a crabbed mate.
As busy brains must beat on tickle toys,
As rash invention breeds a raw devise,
So sudden falls do hinder hasty joys;
And as swift baits do fleetest fish entice,
So haste makes waste, and therefore now I say,
No haste but good, where wisdom makes the way.
poem by George Gascoigne
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