The Vain Question
Why should we court the storms that rave and rend,
Safe at our household hearth?
Why, starved and naked, without home or friend,
Unknowing whence we came or where we wend,
Follow from no beginning to no end
An uncrowned martyr's path?
Is it worth while to waste our all in vain?
To seek, and not to know?
To strive for something we can never gain,
To labour blindly for a wage of pain,
And crack our heartstrings with the stress and strain,
And reap no field we sow?
What does it matter whether love or hate,
Or praise or blame, be theirs
Who pass like shadows, with no time to wait
For understanding of the ways of fate,
Which makes the hopeless desert blossom late,
And kills good wheat with tares?
Why do we choose to suffer, when we might
Lie down to sleep and dream?
Is praise for men who try to do the right?
Is blame for him who shirks the deadly fight?
And whose the friendship that is heart's delight?
And whose the love supreme?
Wide do we set our sanctuary door
That fairest guest to greet,
And find too late, when we have shown our store,
The sacred places rudely trampled o'er,
Bereaved, profaned, and soiled for evermore
With tread of vulgar feet.
And nothing left to solace us but this,
At such a frightful cost -
A taste, a glimpse, the memory of a kiss;
Only a sense of what diviner bliss,
That might have been, we have contrived to miss;
Only what love has lost.
And brother-bond - the loyal comradeship
That comes to every call -
What worth the smiling eye, the warm hand-grip,
The benediction of the kindly lip?
Sickness, old age or poverty can strip
The value from them all.
And faith, embalmed in immemorial creed -
Once our supreme support,
Our staff and beacon to uphold and lead -
A light extinguished and a broken reed!
And where, O where, in bitter time of need,
Shall substitute be sought?
Wherefore this anguish of desire to see
That which concerns us not -
The evolution of the life to be,
The distant course, the final destiny
Of worlds and men - the ages wherein we
Shall have no part or lot?
Why not shut eyes of spirit and of brain
That can torment us thus?
Why not take something to assuage the pain,
And shut the doors and go to sleep again?
The Search may be successful or in vain,
What matters it to us?
Is it worth while, when house and home are here,
And we can dwell at ease,
To go forth, lonely, and in mortal fear,
To travel roads that lead not anywhere,
As bare of lamp or signpost, far or near,
And full of thorns, as these?
To leave the Good whereof we are possest,
To seek, in senseless grief,
For some divine but ever unknown Best,
And see no goal and find no place of rest -
Is it worth while, on such a fruitless quest
To waste a life so brief?
We must not ask - we must not ask again.
We have to wait and see.
Press on, poor soul, along the path of pain
That is the one thing absolutely plain.
The last assessment of the loss and gain
Is not a task for thee.
poem by Ada Cambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Cui Bono
1.
Why should we care for storms that rave and rend,
Safe at our household hearth?
Unknowing whence we came, or where we wend,
Why should we ache and toil, and waste and spend,
Treading from no beginning to no end,
An uncrowned martyr's path?
2.
Is it worth while to suffer, when we might,
Like happier men, be blest
With that dull blindness that desires no light,
That peaceful soul that feels no need to fight,
Nor thirsts for liberty, and truth, and right,
But lives its life at rest?
3.
Is it worth while to work, and strive, and learn —
To sow where none may reap?
Is it worth while to rage, and fret, and yearn
For nameless treasure that we cannot earn?
Is it worth while in fever- fires to burn,
While wise men eat and sleep?
4.
Is it worth while to care for praise or blame,
This little time we live,
When purest deeds are oftenest put to shame?
To pant for noble strife and lofty fame,
When gold seems better than a stainless name,
Or all the world can give?
5.
Is it worth while for friendship's gift to sue,
For friendship's joys to crave?
When sordid tests, that bring us ruth and rue,
And sorrowful years, alone discern the clue
That tells us what is false and what is true,
And what we lose or save?
6.
To open wide our sanctuary door
Some welcome guest to greet,
To find, perchance, when we have shown our store,
The sacred places rudely trampled o'er,
Bereaved, profaned, and soiled for evermore
With tread of vulgar feet?
7.
Is it worth while to love — though love find grace
In our belovèd's sight?
To bear a restless heart from place to place,
Hungry for sight of one transcendent face,
That shines our central sun in azure space,
Or leaves our world in night:
8.
And, after all, to gain no more than this
At such a life- long cost —
A taste, a glimpse, the memory of a kiss,
A speechless sense of what diviner bliss,
That might have been, we have contrived to miss —
To know what love has lost?
9.
Is it worth while — O sadder fate! — to heed
The solemn chime that knells
The death hour of an immemorial creed —
A staff of strength become a broken reed —
And never friendlier help in time of need,
Nor surer guide, foretells?
10.
To heed the spirit- voice that bids us take
A strange new road alone;
From gentle slumber and sweet dreams to wake,
And hear the mighty billows boom and break —
The thunder of immortal seas that shake
The earth's foundation- stone?
11.
Is it worth while, so far away as we,
To long, in hope and dread,
For the great unborn Age that is to be —
To pine for light that we shall never see —
To care what course man's life and destiny
May take when we are dead?
12.
Is it worth while to toil in doubt and fear,
Through thorny ways like these,
When they who turn blind eye and heedless ear
To change and portent, and who see nor hear
The pregnant storm that gathers far and near,
Dwell all their days at ease?
13.
To leave the Good whereof we are possest,
To search, in gloom and grief,
Through pathless trouble, for some unknown Best,
And see no goal, and find no place of rest —
Is it worth while, on such a fruitless quest
To waste a life so brief?
14.
Is it worth while to wear out heart and brain?
Ah me, what must be must!
The maddening Mystery cannot be made plain,
And they who seek to solve it seek in vain,
Yet can but seek, in sleepless hope and pain,
Till heart and brain are dust.
poem by Ada Cambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At Long Last
Late, late the prize is drawn, the goal attained,
The Heart's Desire fulfilled, Love's guerdon gained.
Wealth's use is past, Fame's crown of laurel mocks
The downward-drooping head and grizzled locks.
The end is reached - the end of toil and strife -
The end of life.
Love flowers and fades like grass, and flowers again;
The spendthrift lovers waste themselves in vain;
Their fiery passions burn out one by one,
And then, alas! when their best days are done,
Spirit and body find their perfect mate -
So late! So late!
Long-sought, long seeking, through the lonely years,
The wanderers meet to weep their useless tears
For time and chance irrevocably flown,
Dear hopes outlived and happy faiths outgrown,
Children unborn, the myriad joys unseen
That might have been.
Not for the spring and morning-time of youth
The perfect flower of slow-unfolding truth,
The perfect love, that dreams of youth foretell,
But youth knows not and youth could never tell;
That light celestial, as of sunset fires
When day expires.
Late comes the gift that crowns the hungry quest,
Like ripe wheat-harvest in a land at rest,
And comes alone, a consecrated cup,
To those proved worthy to sit down and sup.
To them - aye, aye, despite their treasure lost,
'T'is worth the cost.
'T'is worth the cost to reach the heights at last,
Ere eyes are dim and daylight overpast.
To see one aim achieved, one dream fulfilled,
Ere striving brain and trusting heart are stilled.
To live one glorious hour - its price of pain
Is never paid in vain.
poem by Ada Cambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Memory: James T. Fields
As a guest who may not stay
Long and sad farewells to say
Glides with smiling face away,
Of the sweetness and the zest
Of thy happy life possessed
Thou hast left us at thy best.
Warm of heart and clear of brain,
Of thy sun-bright spirit's wane
Thou hast spared us all the pain.
Now that thou hast gone away,
What is left of one to say
Who was open as the day?
What is there to gloss or shun?
Save with kindly voices none
Speak thy name beneath the sun.
Safe thou art on every side,
Friendship nothing finds to hide,
Love's demand is satisfied.
Over manly strength and worth,
At thy desk of toil, or hearth,
Played the lambent light of mirth,--
Mirth that lit, but never burned;
All thy blame to pity turned;
Hatred thou hadst never learned.
Every harsh and vexing thing
At thy home-fire lost its sting;
Where thou wast was always spring.
And thy perfect trust in good,
Faith in man and womanhood,
Chance and change and time, withstood.
Small respect for cant and whine,
Bigot's zeal and hate malign,
Had that sunny soul of thine.
But to thee was duty's claim
Sacred, and thy lips became
Reverent with one holy Name.
Therefore, on thy unknown way,
Go in God's peace! We who stay
But a little while delay.
Keep for us, O friend, where'er
Thou art waiting, all that here
Made thy earthly presence dear;
Something of thy pleasant past
On a ground of wonder cast,
In the stiller waters glassed!
Keep the human heart of thee;
Let the mortal only be
Clothed in immortality.
And when fall our feet as fell
Thine upon the asphodel,
Let thy old smile greet us well;
Proving in a world of bliss
What we fondly dream in this,--
Love is one with holiness!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Good Night
1.
Love, thou hast wandered far and wide,
But here thy wanderings cease;
Thy long- sought mate is by thy side,
And thou canst sleep in peace.
2.
Night moans outside our window- pane,
And weeps from dripping eaves;
The air is thick with falling rain
Upon dead autumn leaves.
3.
The winds of winter rave and chafe
Around thy tranquil nest,
But I am here, and thou art safe —
Thy very soul may rest.
4.
The wild surf- thunder swells and falls
Upon the seething beach —
Thy world within thy chamber- walls
Nor winds nor waves can reach.
5.
Sleep, fired eyes! Sleep well, dear heart,
That ached so long for me!
No sudden hand shall tear apart
These arms that shelter thee
6.
Sleep well, though late- found joys be brief,
And bought with tears and pain;
Shut out the memory of thy grief —
Thou didst not grieve in vain.
7.
Think of our treasure, kept in store,
And not the price it cost —
Those precious years, that come no more,
Which thou and I have lost.
8.
O, wasted years, that lie behind
Hush — what is past is past.
Enough that we have lived to find
What life is worth at last.
9.
Though Fate has robbed us of so much,
We know not what we miss;
All ills are recompensed in such
A priceless good as this.
10.
Sleep,dear! The hours are passing on —
The midnight bells have tolled;
Think not how much of life is gone,
But how much more we hold.
11.
Yes, more — as wise men reckon life —
Though no wise man can tell
How soon, for husband and for wife,
The stroke of doom will knell.
12.
No echo of that solemn chime
Break through thy perfect peace!
No forecast of that awful time
When time for us will cease:
13.
When happier worlds shall shine in space,
For other eyes to see,
And none have any more a place
For thy true love and thee.
14.
Be blind to all, and deaf, and dumb,
In thy quick heart's despite!
Content thee — though the end must come,
It will not come to- night.
15.
This night let never thought of ill
Disturb thy slumber deep;
To- morrow I shall have thee still,
So thou canst safely sleep:
16.
Reprieved from that appalling fear,
As from thy long regret —
Be our last parting far or near,
We have not reached it yet.
17.
Thy head lies pillowed on my breast —
My cheek upon thy brow —
Dear love, good night! Thou art at rest
From Past and Future now.
poem by Ada Cambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Too Late
Too late the prize is drawn, the goal attained.
Too late, too late, our heart's desire is gained.
Wealth's use is past; Fame's crown of laurel mocks
The downward drooping head and grizzled locks.
The end is reached — the end of toil and strife —
The end of life.
Love flowers and fades like grass, and flowers again,
And strong young hearts spend all their strength in vain.
The fiery passions burn out, one by one,
And then, too late, when our best days are done,
Spirit and body find their perfect mate —
Too late, too late!
Long sought, long seeking, through the lonely years,
We meet at last to weep our useless tears
For time and chance irrevocably flown,
For dreams outlived and fervent hopes outgrown,
For babes unborn, for myriad joys unseen,
That might have been.
Too late, too late! And yet the priceless boon
Might ne'er have come to bless us, late or soon;
And only comes, like Holy Grail, to those
Made wise and pure by bitter needs and woes.
We learn the worth of life when life is o'er,
And not before.
Not for the spring and morning time of youth
The perfect flower of slow- unfolding truth —
The perfect love, deep, passionate, and strong,
That comes of wanting much and waiting long.
This glorious fire is of the setting sun
When day is done.
This harvest wealth, this crowning gift of fate,
This fruit of suffering years, must aye come late;
And only seeking spirit and ripe mind —
Only a few — the matchless treasure find,
And find, despite all time and chances lost,
'Twas worth the cost.
Ah me! To stand upon this height at last,
Ere eyes are dim or daylight overpast;
To see one aim achieved, one dream fulfilled,
Ere striving brain and hoping heart are stilled;
To know that we have borne a lifelong pain
Not all in vain!
O, not too late, if once we reach the goal —
If once we satisfy this hungry soul —
If only for a year, a day, an hour,
We drink our fill of life's true bliss and power.
If we but touch that point, we conquer fate
Not quite too late!
poem by Ada Cambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Children of the Night
For those that never know the light,
The darkness is a sullen thing;
And they, the Children of the Night,
Seem lost in Fortune's winnowing.
But some are strong and some are weak, --
And there's the story. House and home
Are shut from countless hearts that seek
World-refuge that will never come.
And if there be no other life,
And if there be no other chance
To weigh their sorrow and their strife
Than in the scales of circumstance,
'T were better, ere the sun go down
Upon the first day we embark,
In life's imbittered sea to drown,
Than sail forever in the dark.
But if there be a soul on earth
So blinded with its own misuse
Of man's revealed, incessant worth,
Or worn with anguish, that it views
No light but for a mortal eye,
No rest but of a mortal sleep,
No God but in a prophet's lie,
No faith for "honest doubt" to keep;
If there be nothing, good or bad,
But chaos for a soul to trust, --
God counts it for a soul gone mad,
And if God be God, He is just.
And if God be God, He is Love;
And though the Dawn be still so dim,
It shows us we have played enough
With creeds that make a fiend of Him.
There is one creed, and only one,
That glorifies God's excellence;
So cherish, that His will be done,
The common creed of common sense.
It is the crimson, not the gray,
That charms the twilight of all time;
It is the promise of the day
That makes the starry sky sublime;
It is the faith within the fear
That holds us to the life we curse; --
So let us in ourselves revere
The Self which is the Universe!
Let us, the Children of the Night,
Put off the cloak that hides the scar!
Let us be Children of the Light,
And tell the ages what we are!
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Are The Pain (part 2)
You Are The Pain and
You Are The Joy (part 2)
You are the Pain and the joy,
on the stage of life.
You are the pain, when your are distant
from me and you are the joy in my
memories of you.
You are the pain, when your touch, I
can not feel and you are the joy,
as I hold you near.
You are the pain, when tears you
have caused, and you are the joy, for the
laughter in my life.
You are the pain, when indifference enters
our life and you are the joy, when you
place me before others.
You are the pain, when you busy life, has
little time for me and you are the joy,
when there is just us.
You are the pain, as you seek that which
glitters in life and you are the joy,
as you are immersed, in the makings of God.
You are the pain, when angered and abrupt
and you are the joy when seeking
to make amends.
You are the pain, when anger is your
roadblock to reason and you are the
joy, when you step back and seek
a solution.
You are the pain, in you compulsives and singleness
of purpose, to be successful...and you are
a joy, when you blanket those you
care for, with love.
You are the pain, when impatience leads you down
an uncertain path and you are the joy, as you
carefully plot a pragmatic course.
You are the pain, when you listen...but
do not hear and you the joy, when
patient and understanding.
You are the pain, when other matters,
substitute our love, and you are the joy,
when we are fused together as one.
You the a pain, in our spirited
disagreements, and you are
the joy, as you say, I love you.
The lesson we know well, that in
this life, there is no joy, unless
there is pain.
It All You...
You are the Pain and the joy,
on the stage of life.
You are the pain, when your are distant
from me and you are the joy in my
memories of you.
You are the pain, when your touch I
can not feel and you are the joy,
as I hold you near.
You are the pain, when tears you
have caused and you are the joy, for the
laughter in my life.
You are the pain, when indifference enters
our life and you are the joy, when you
place me before others.
You are the pain, when you busy life, has
little time for me and you are the joy,
when there is just us.
You are the pain, as you seek that which
glitters in life and you are the joy,
as you are immersed, in the makings of God.
You are the pain, when angered and abrupt
and you are the joy when seeking
to make amends.
You are the pain, when anger is your
roadblock to reason and you are the
joy, when you step back and seek
a solution.
You are the pain, in you compulsives and singleness
of purpose, to be successful...and you are
a joy, when you blanket those you
care for, with love.
You are the pain, when impatience leads you down
an uncertain path and you are the joy, as you
carefully plot a pragmatic course.
You are the pain, when you listen...but
do not hear and you the joy, when
patient and understanding.
You are the pain, when other matters,
substitute our love, and you are the joy,
when we are fused together as one.
You the a pain, in our spirited
disagreements, and you are
the joy, as you say, I love you.
The lesson we know well, that in
this life, there is no joy, unless
there is pain.
Of That We Know...
You are the Pain and the joy,
on the stage of life.
You are the pain, when your are distant
from me and you are the joy in my
memories of you.
You are the pain, when your touch I
can not feel and you are the joy,
as I hold you near.
You are the pain, when tears you
have caused and you are the joy, for the
laughter in my life.
You are the pain, when indifference enters
our life and you are the joy, when you
place me before others.
You are the pain, when you busy life, has
little time for me and you are the joy,
when there is just us.
You are the pain, as you seek that which
glitters in life and you are the joy,
as you are immersed, in the makings of God.
You are the pain, when angered and abrupt
and you are the joy when seeking
to make amends.
You are the pain, when anger is your
roadblock to reason and you are the
joy, when you step back and seek
a solution.
You are the pain, in you compulsives and singleness
of purpose, to be successful...and you are
a joy, when you blanket those you
care for, with love.
You are the pain, when impatience leads you down
an uncertain path and you are the joy, as you
carefully plot a pragmatic course.
You are the pain, when you listen...but
do not hear and you the joy, when
patient and understanding.
You are the pain, when other matters,
substitute our love, and you are the joy,
when we are fused together as one.
You the a pain, in our spirited
disagreements, and you are
the joy, as you say, I love you.
The lesson we know well, that in
this life, there is no joy, unless
there is pain.
When You Are Distant From Me...
You are the Pain and the joy,
on the stage of life.
You are the pain, when your are distant
from me and you are the joy in my
memories of you.
You are the pain, when your touch I
can not feel and you are the joy,
as I hold you near.
You are the pain, when tears you
have caused and you are the joy, for the
laughter in my life.
You are the pain, when indifference enters
our life and you are the joy, when you
place me before others.
You are the pain, when you busy life, has
little time for me and you are the joy,
when there is just us.
You are the pain, as you seek that which
glitters in life and you are the joy,
as you are immersed, in the makings of God.
You are the pain, when angered and abrupt
and you are the joy when seeking
to make amends.
You are the pain, when anger is your
roadblock to reason and you are the
joy, when you step back and seek
a solution.
You are the pain, in you compulsives and singleness
of purpose, to be successful...and you are
a joy, when you blanket those you
care for, with love.
You are the pain, when impatience leads you down
an uncertain path and you are the joy, as you
carefully plot a pragmatic course.
You are the pain, when you listen...but
do not hear and you the joy, when
patient and understanding.
You are the pain, when other matters,
substitute our love, and you are the joy,
when we are fused together as one.
You the a pain, in our spirited
disagreements, and you are
the joy, as you say, I love you.
The lesson we know well, that in
this life, there is no joy, unless
there is pain.
Love & Pain...Are You
You are the Pain and the joy,
on the stage of life.
You are the pain, when your are distant
from me and you are the joy in my
memories of you.
You are the pain, when your touch I
can not feel and you are the joy,
as I hold you near.
You are the pain, when tears you
have caused and you are the joy, for the
laughter in my life.
You are the pain, when indifference enters
our life and you are the joy, when you
place me before others.
You are the pain, when you busy life, has
little time for me and you are the joy,
when there is just us.
You are the pain, as you seek that which
glitters in life and you are the joy,
as you are immersed, in the makings of God.
You are the pain, when angered and abrupt
and you are the joy when seeking
to make amends.
You are the pain, when anger is your
roadblock to reason and you are the
joy, when you step back and seek
a solution.
You are the pain, in you compulsives and singleness
of purpose, to be successful...and you are
a joy, when you blanket those you
care for, with love.
You are the pain, when impatience leads you down
an uncertain path and you are the joy, as you
carefully plot a pragmatic course.
You are the pain, when you listen...but
do not hear and you the joy, when
patient and understanding.
You are the pain, when other matters,
substitute our love, and you are the joy,
when we are fused together as one.
You the a pain, in our spirited
disagreements, and you are
the joy, as you say, I love you.
The lesson we know well, that in
this life, there is no joy, unless
there is pain.
Love & Pain...Are You
You are the Pain and the joy,
on the stage of life.
You are the pain, when your are distant
from me and you are the joy in my
memories of you.
You are the pain, when your touch I
can not feel and you are the joy,
as I hold you near.
You are the pain, when tears you
have caused and you are the joy, for the
laughter in my life.
You are the pain, when indifference enters
our life and you are the joy, when you
place me before others.
You are the pain, when you busy life, has
little time for me and you are the joy,
when there is just us.
You are the pain, as you seek that which
glitters in life and you are the joy,
as you are immersed, in the makings of God.
You are the pain, when angered and abrupt
and you are the joy when seeking
to make amends.
You are the pain, when anger is your
roadblock to reason and you are the
joy, when you step back and seek
a solution.
You are the pain, in you compulsives and singleness
of purpose, to be successful...and you are
a joy, when you blanket those you
care for, with love.
You are the pain, when impatience leads you down
an uncertain path and you are the joy, as you
carefully plot a pragmatic course.
You are the pain, when you listen...but
do not hear and you the joy, when
patient and understanding.
You are the pain, when other matters,
substitute our love, and you are the joy,
when we are fused together as one.
You the a pain, in our spirited
disagreements, and you are
the joy, as you say, I love you.
The lesson we know well, that in
this life, there is no joy, unless
there is pain.
poem by Waldon Pond Productions
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You are the Pain and the joy
You are the Pain and the joy,
on the stage of life.
You are the pain, when your are distant
from me and you are the joy in my
memories of you.
You are the pain, when your touch I
can not feel and you are the joy,
as I hold you near.
You are the pain, when tears you
have caused and you are the joy, for the
laughter in my life.
You are the pain, when indifference enters
our life and you are the joy, when you
place me before others.
You are the pain, when you busy life, has
little time for me and you are the joy,
when there is just us.
You are the pain, as you seek that which
glitters in life and you are the joy,
as you are immersed, in the makings of God.
You are the pain, when angered and abrupt
and you are the joy when seeking
to make amends.
You are the pain, when anger is your
roadblock to reason and you are the
joy, when you step back and seek
a solution.
You are the pain, in you compulsives and singleness
of purpose, to be successful...and you are
a joy, when you blanket those you
care for, with love.
You are the pain, when impatience leads you down
an uncertain path and you are the joy, as you
carefully plot a pragmatic course.
You are the pain, when you listen...but
do not hear and you the joy, when
patient and understanding.
You are the pain, when other matters,
substitute our love, and you are the joy,
when we are fused together as one.
You the a pain, in our spirited
disagreements, and you are
the joy, as you say, I love you.
The lesson we know well, that in
this life, there is no joy, unless
there is pain.
poem by Waldon Pond Productions
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Game of Fate
What if I told you love was a game I don’t want to play,
Because its hurt me one too many times,
And I’m afraid,
Afraid of finding everything I want,
And it not wanting me back,
Or what if love is just some trick of our imagination,
And one day we wake to find nothing at all,
And all that’s left is our own devastation.
Sometimes I dream too much,
And when I finally find my dreams in life,
They only cause me strife,
And pain,
And hurt,
But love and pain walk hand in hand with fate,
Life is an adventure filled with pain,
But somewhere deep within that pain is something stronger,
Something that can over come it all,
And that is love,
But first you have to ride the waves of fate.
Through the many trials you must face,
In the end it is all worth it no matter how much you had to give up along the way,
Love is worth the fight,
And that is what fate is trying to teach you,
That love is so special,
It shouldn’t be so easy to obtain,
So fate throws you pain,
But you have to push through,
In order to find the love that’s true.
poem by Lauren Wiltrout
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Teaching the Hardened Youth
Teaching to hardened youth
Anger, Cold, Hard Anger
The eyes Hateful, his face pinched
How dare I try to tell him
That his choices brought him this.
Why is this important?
This is a waste of time.
Leave me alone witch
My future is mine to find.
These skills I try and teach you
Will make that future prime
It isn't in the details
But in the use of your mind.
People will try and manipulate
To use you for their own
You need to be smarter
And Walk your path alone
Friends will always be there
Some will lead the way
Others will block your path
To improve their life another day.
You are an individual
You allow others to make the rules
Questions every reason
Or be their little fool.
Your brain is your treasure
The more you use the more you have
Step up to the plate
And find your own path
Be educated in your choices
Know what it is your want
Always seek the answers
Your intelligence to flaunt
It is cool to be the dumb kid
Middle School is a pain
The future is coming
Try not to disdain.
I fight this fight today
I fought it yesterday
I believe in the future
This youth will lead the way.
He is full of anger
They are all overcome by hate
They are frightened and alone
And terrified of the worlds fate.
We have left them a mess
A broken planet from excess
A fragmented democracy
A future filled with stress
Support them as I can
Teach them to believe
For it is in their minds
That one solution we need.
poem by Lori Christensen
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Untitled 4
Mother! Darling mother, you are seeking me I know,
And I feel thy love will follow through the world where'er I go;
But I cannot come, dear mother; I am sadly altered now:
The once fair wreath of innocence that garlanded my brow
Has faded ne'er to bloom again; and from the things of yore-
The fair, the good, the beautiful - I'm severed ever-more.
My onward way must be a path of darkness and of pain,
But I must tread it all alone - I cannot come again.
Of all the changes that have come, I know that this will be,
Where all the changes have been sad, the saddest change to thee.
I know how much thou'lt weep, mother, for thy dear boy so lost,
And 'tis the sorrow thou must feel that makes me sorrow most.
I strove against this darker fate, I struggled, mother, long.
I starved and suffered months, mother, ere I was linked to wrong:
And even now good angels plead to win me - but in vain!
Once fallen is forever lost - I cannot come again.
I'm severed from thee by my sin, but cannot say 'forget,'
Thy love is such a hollowed thing, I ask it even yet;
But let it be a memory that images all fair
The child that with uplifted hands in faith knelt by thy chair.
Think of me, mother, as I was, when joy lit up my brow
And my young heart was innocent, but not as I am now.
Pray for me. This I know thou'lt do; but seek me not, 'tis vain!
I'd throw a shadow on thy home - I cannot come again.
They say that in desert drear some greenness may be found,
Some oasis in contrast strange to all the waste around,
And even thus, within my heart, guilt darkened though it be,
There is a love all-beautiful, that lives and clings to thee.
I'm weeping very bitterly, I cannot help these tears,
They are the tribute memory pays to joys of fleeted years,
Goodbye! God bless thee, mother dear! I sorrow for thy pain.
Oh! If I were but innocent, I'd gladly come again.
poem by Owen Suffolk
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The Quest
Part i:
Three men set out for their worldly quest
One for gold, another for a pleasure nest
The third for what he could not tell
But trusted his heart to lead him well.
'I shall have every silver and every gold'
The first boasted so bold
'All pleasure everywhere is mine'
The second yelled, 'with plenty wine and dine'
To the third they asked, 'what will yours be'
'Well for all i ask and seek, ' said he
'Let the sun guide me by day, by night the moon
To my quest, my heart shall lead me there soon'
Part ii
And there before the rising sun
Set all three with hope to return
Through North, south, from east to west
In search of their worldly quest
Part iii
The first found silver and gold of every kind
Much more he hoped to find
Some so big, some sparkling small
O! How much he loved them all
The second found his pleasure land
With plenty merry go hand
So much to eat, and much to drink
Till his cheeks grew fat and pink
Part iv
The third, from valley low, to mountain top
And yet he did not stop
For deep inside love bade him come
Of your quest, you'd find the sum
Alas! So weary from his worldy quest
Sat he down quietly to rest
Soon he was gently fast asleep
As he snored so free and deep
He dreamt he stood before a court so heavily thronged
And he in kingly robe adorned
By his side stood a beautiful queen
That eye had ever seen
He woke up and lo! he saw before him
That castle in his dream
So marvelous still, was that royal face
In so splendid a place
Part v
Soon news went round as time unfold
Of those who sought for pleasure and gold
O! Such a terrible tale to hear
What strife they had to bear
For the first had gone to sail at sea
Aboard 'Her Golden Majesty'
'For all under heaven' boasted he
'There is none as rich as me'
Then came a gathering gloom
Of tempest christiened doom
It pressed them low and tossed them high
They screamed- 'we are all going to die'
'Ho! For every life and property aboard
One' said the capt, 'must go overboard
Choose now, your judgement me be fair
We have no time to spare'
A murmur here, a murmur there
But then it was quite clear
For all on board, silver and gold,
A life is worth more to behold
And so over and over went his silver and gold
Till none was left to hold
Thus he lost his worldly gain
His life now filled with vain
For the one who sought for pleasure
Had more than words could measure
Food, drink and women of every name
For fun he grew to fame
Soon one after one, as darkness befall
Till none was left at all
And so alone left he to fend
O! What a traggic end
For all he had were friends for fun
But now they were all gone
He knew not where to go or what to do
What will you, if it were you?
Part vi
Back to the one who sought for love
Had more that mortal quest could prove
A beautiful queen, and a royal gown
Sweet end and a golden crown
'Welcome my lord, come thee to me
I have by the gate waited thee
Its time to take thy rightful place
The world awaits thy face'
'I am not worthy of such glory and gold' he cried
Hush! Love knows best and never ask' she said
Then hand in hand she led him on
'Of all life's quest, the best you have won! '
'For begger is he who seek only riches and all it brings
But to find love the dream of kings! !
poem by Okonkwo Osamedua. Allen
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My Cross
I guess it doesn't matter.
You don't trust me anymore.
You think that I will never change.
You're always keeping score.
You live in what I said and did.
And you will not forget.
Regardless of what I say or do.
To you I am a threat.
I think you really fear me.
Because of who I'd been.
And even though I've changed now.
To you they are unseen.
I show you then you tell me,
It's all simply an act.
This kills my heart and hurts my soul.
Yet I still remain intact.
I try and try and try again.
But still to no avail.
You act like I'm a loveless beast.
You let hatred prevail.
I feel as if the war is lost.
And love will not endure.
I believe you think love is a disease.
And hatred is the cure.
I know you're a great person.
I hate to see you hurt.
I keep returning my heart to you.
Yet you treat me just like dirt.
I don't think I can ever stop.
Regardless of the pain.
To keep on giving you my love.
Even though my heart is sprained.
So you can keep on stabbing,
My heart that's on my sleeve.
I will hold it still for you.
Because I do believe.
To love someone, when they don't love back,
Is worth it's weight in gold.
Love is like a treasure,
That can't be bought or sold.
It's what the bible tells us.
That love is filled with pain.
But it is truly worth it.
It gives us everything to gain.
Now I will hang upon my cross,
To prove my love is true.
And show you my love is pure and real,
I do all of this for you.
So you don't have to believe me,
You can think it's all pretend.
But I know the pain is worth it,
It's worth it in the end.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Walk With God
Why does one walk with God, and why does a heart humbly nod,
While a sinner in the present life, to follow as Lord, Jesus Christ?
What are the choices one will make, as former ways they forsake,
Ignoring all that others will say, as they choose in life a new way?
No soul will move towards God, upon the earth we presently trod,
Unless the person is drawn by, the Spirit of God, Who is on High.
Their heart by God is stirred within, that sinner lost and wandering,
And given eyes so they will see, the need for The God of Eternity.
A need they never saw before, the Savior knocked upon the door,
The very door of their own heart, for the new life with God to start,
And at that moment they believe, The Holy Spirit, they will receive,
Thus, beginning a New Life when, that sinner becomes Born Again.
It is only after that spiritual birth, the things of God have real worth,
When given new sight from above, God’s Spirit kindles a new love,
A flame in your heart becomes a fire, with new purpose and desire,
Walking with God you’ll soon find, the former ways are left behind.
With a desire to walk in The Light, to help men still lost in the night,
Persuading others to open the door, to a life in Christ forevermore,
So as the Spirit of God moves in, they leave a present path of sin,
To join that race with you and me, on the new path to Life Eternally.
(Copyright ©09/2009)
To J. S.
The wind, that beats the mountain, blows
More softly round the open wold,
And gently comes the world to those
That are cast in gentle mould.
And me this knowledge bolder made,
Or else I had not dare to flow
In these words toward you, and invade
Even with a verse your holy woe.
'Tis strange that those we lean on most,
Those in whose laps our limbs are nursed,
Fall into shadow, soonest lost:
Those we love first are taken first.
God gives us love. Something to love
He lends us; but, when love is grown
To ripeness, that on which it throve
Falls off, and love is left alone.
This is the curse of time. Alas!
In grief I am not all unlearn'd;
Once thro' mine own doors Death did pass;
One went, who never hath return'd.
He will not smile--not speak to me
Once more. Two years his chair is seen
Empty before us. That was he
Without whose life I had not been.
Your loss is rarer; for this star
Rose with you thro' a little arc
Of heaven, nor having wander'd far
Shot on the sudden into dark.
I knew your brother: his mute dust
I honour and his living worth:
A man more pure and bold and just
Was never born into the earth.
I have not look'd upon you nigh,
Since that dear soul hath fall'n asleep.
Great nature is more wise than I:
I will not tell you not to weep.
And tho' mine own eyes fill with dew,
Drawn from the spirit thro' the brain,
I will not even preach to you,
"Weep, weeping dulls the inward pain."
Let Grief be her own mistress still.
She loveth her own anguish deep
More than much pleasure. Let her will
Be done--to weep or not to weep.
I will not say "God's ordinance
Of death is blown in every wind;"
For that is not a common chance
That takes away a noble mind.
His memory long will live alone
In all our hearts, as mournful light
That broods above the fallen sun,
And dwells in heaven half the night.
Vain solace! Memory standing near
Cast down her eyes, and in her throat
Her voice seem'd distant, and a tear
Dropt on the letters as I wrote.
I wrote I know not what. In truth,
How should I soothe you anyway,
Who miss the brother of your youth?
Yet something I did wish to say:
For he too was a friend to me:
Both are my friends, and my true breast
Bleedeth for both: yet it may be
That only silence suiteth best.
Words weaker than your grief would make
Grief more. 'Twere better I should cease;
Although myself could almost take
The place of him that sleeps in peace.
Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace;
Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul,
While the stars burn, the moons increase,
And the great ages onward roll.
Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet.
Nothing comes to thee new or strange,
Sleep full of rest from head to feet:
Lie still, dry dust, secure of change.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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