Just like the stag's horns, wisdom is a cumbersome ornament.
aphorism by Valeriu Butulescu from Immensity of the Point, translated by Eva A. Ziem
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas Ornaments
10/23/10
There is a Christmas ornament that can not be seen
It is a hidden Christmas ornament between you and me.
It is not an ornament that you can hang from a tree
This ornament lives in our hearts
And like a crystal it can be torn apart.
It is as soft and as beautiful as any you’d see on a tree
But the difference is, it’s between you and me.
This ornament is a symbol of our love
And it is not man made, but it is something
That we could take to our graves.
This ornament has more colors than a rainbow
And it’s worth much more than gold.
It is something that we feel
Not something that we hold.
I join my hands together and stretch them
Out towards you, there is nothing laying there
That can be seen by the naked eye
But if you look deep- my heart you will find.
So to all people- let this be the gift that we share
For all the world to see.
The beauties “that are within you and me“.
it is something that you can not mold or bend
For it is heaven sent.
poem by Louis Rams
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The Stag (ballad)
The Stag it ran through fields and woods
Flitting here darting there
Running fast from men with hoods
Fast as a hare
A bird over head cries a warning song
A warning song cries the bird
For the stag the bravest stag
Who is torn away from the herd
The gun trumpets on the still air
This frightens the stag that runs like a hare
He runs through the trees and to a pool
He stops to take a breath but then he hears, leaves fall
The gun cries again and the stag he falls
By the trees and the pool
he makes one last cry and his body goes cool
The spirit of the stag
Leaped up and flew
And frightened the men
As he galloped across the dew
poem by Cheetah Girl
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A Runnable Stag
When the pods went pop on the broom, green broom,
And apples began to be golden-skinn'd,
We harbour'd a stag in the Priory coomb,
And we feather'd his trail up-wind, up-wind,
We feather'd his trail up-wind-
A stag of warrant, a stag, a stag,
A runnable stag, a kingly crop,
Brow, bay and tray and three on top,
A stag, a runnable stag.
Then the huntsman's horn rang yap, yap yap,
And 'Forwards' we heard the harbourer shout;
But 'twas only a brocket that broke a gap
In the beechen underwood, driven out,
From the underwood antler'd out
By warrant and might of the stag, the stag,
The runnable stag, whose lordly mind
Was bent on sleep though beam'd and tined
He stood, a runnable stag
So we tufted the covert till afternoon
With Tinkerman's Pup and Bell- of-the-North;
And hunters were sulky and hounds out of tune
Before we tufted the right stag forth,
Before we tufted him forth,
The stag of warrant, the wily stag,
The runnable stag with his kingly crop,
Brow, bay and tray and three on top,
The royal and runnable stag.
It was Bell-of-the-North and Tinkerman's Pup
That stuck to the scent till the copse was drawn.
'Tally ho! tally ho!' and the hunt was up,
The tufters whipp'd and the pack laid on,
The resolute pack laid on,
And the stag of warrant away at last,
The runnable stag, the same, the same,
His hoofs on fire, his horns like flame,
A stag, a runnable stag.
'Let your gelding be: if you check or chide
He stumbles at once and you're out of the hunt
For three hundred gentlemen, able to ride,
On hunters accustom'd to bear the brunt,
Accustom'd to bear the brunt,
Are after the runnable stag, the stag,
The runnable stag with his kingly crop,
Brow, bay and tray and three on top,
The right, the runnable stag.
By perilous paths in coomb and dell,
The heather, the rocks, and the river-bed,
The pace grew hot, for the scent lay well,
And a runnable stag goes right ahead,
The quarry went right ahead--
Ahead, ahead, and fast and far;
His antler'd crest, his cloven hoof,
Brow, bay and tray and three aloof,
The stag, the runnable stag.
For a matter of twenty miles and more,
By the densest hedge and the highest wall,
Through herds of bullocks lie baffled the lore
Of harbourer, huntsman, hounds and all,
Of harbourer, hounds and all
The stag of warrant, the wily stag,
For twenty miles, and five and five,
He ran, and he never was caught alive,
This stag, this runnable stag.
When he turn'd at bay in the leafy gloom,
In the emerald gloom where the brook ran deep
He heard in the distance the rollers boom,
And he saw In a vision of peaceful sleep
In a wonderful vision of sleep,
A stag of warrant, a stag, a stag,
A runnable stag in a jewell'd bed,
Under the sheltering ocean dead,
A stag, a runnable stag.
So a fateful hope lit up his eye,
And he open'd his nostrils wide again,
And he toss'd his branching antlers high
As he headed the hunt down the Charlock glen,
As he raced down the echoing glen
For five miles more, the stag, the stag,
For twenty miles, and five and five,
Not to be caught now, dead or alive,
The stag, the runnable stag.
Three hundred gentleman, able to ride,
Three hundred horses as gallant and free,
Beheld him escape on the evening tide,
Far out till he sank in the Severn Sea,
Till he sank in the depths of the sea
The stag, the buoyant stag, the stag
That slept at last in a jewell'd bed
Under the sheltering ocean spread,
The stag, the runnable stag.
poem by John Davidson
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The horns of the sister are horns of gold; the horns of the wife are true horns.
Twist 6
it hurts him to see you lag behind
when you are much better
the way you write about evil
his way of putting good becomes a tail
the horns of the stag are always beautiful
on the head
it runs as nimble as needle
and the threads simply land smoothly on the eye
passing the labyrinths of
lies.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Uhland's White Stag
Into the woods three huntsmen came,
Seeking the white stag for their game.
They laid them under a green fir-tree
And slept, and dreamed strange things to see.
(FIRST HUNTSMAN)
I dreamt I was beating the leafy brush,
When out popped the noble stag--hush, hush!
(SECOND HUNTSMAN)
As ahead of the clamorous pack he sprang,
I pelted him hard in the hide--piff, bang!
(THIRD HUNTSMAN)
And as that stag lay dead I blew
On my horn a lusty tir-ril-la-loo!
So speak the three as there they lay
When lo! the white stag sped that way,
Frisked his heels at those huntsmen three,
Then leagues o'er hill and dale was he--
Hush, hush! Piff, bang! Tir-ril-la-loo!
poem by Eugene Field
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Halos & Horns
Halos and horns, sinners and saints,
Hearts that are torn between what's wrong and ain't
Just because it feels right does not make it so
So we struggle through life in horns and halos
Tempted and tried with each step we take
We stumble and slide and make our mistakes,
Ask God to forgive us for all of our sins,
Then we take off our horns and wear halos again
Halos and horns, sinners and saints,
Hearts that are torn between what's wrong and ain't
Just because it feels right does not make it so
So we struggle through life in horns and halos
Halos and horns, sinners and saints,
We're praised or we're scorned, we either run or we faint
Oh, but life is a challenge from the day that we're born
Just tryin' to balance halos and horns
It's heaven or hell, halos or horns
Halos and horns, sinners and saints,
Hearts that are torn between what's wrong and ain't
But just because it feels right; well, that don't make it so
So we struggle through life in horns or halos
It's either horns or halos
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Gardener LXIX: I Hunt for the Golden Stag
I hunt for the golden stag.
You may smile, my friends, but I
pursue the vision that eludes me.
I run across hills and dales, I wander
through nameless lands, because I am
hunting for the golden stag.
You come and buy in the market
and go back to your homes laden with
goods, but the spell of the homeless
winds has touched me I know not when
and where.
I have no care in my heart; all my
belongings I have left far behind me.
I run across hills and dales, I wander
through nameless lands--because I am
hunting for the golden stag.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Her Ornament
never really meant to volunteer
felt the urge to stretch after a yawn
and accidentally raised my hand
i just want to be her special
someone who will never pioneer
i prefer to watch the mudd break off her heels
and turn into cement
i just want to be her ornament
her shadow seems much cooler
camouflage myself
and plan a splendid entrance
i just want to be her situation pending expectation...
i just want to be her ornament
i never really meant to volunteer
i fought the urge to stretch after a yawn
and accidentally lost my head
i just want to be her exploitation and abbreviation...
i just want to be her ornament
song performed by by Verve Pipe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An antique ornament
Reflections in an antique ornament
Of lights of green and reds
Of silver tinsel, candy canes
Distorted reflections of children’s heads
Reflections in a kitty cat’s eyes
Of red and green, and mischievous delight
In the feline notion of newfound highs
Of a tree he’ll scale tonight
Reflections of brightly wrapped presents
Piled atop folds of faux-snow cotton
Of pine needles shedding amber essence
Creating memories ne’er to be forgotten
Reflections of a time worn sofa
Reflections of a husband and wife
Reflecting on that antique ornament
And the antique ornament…reflecting life
poem by David Whalen
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Promote Me
Promote me with your love and,
Let me embrace you with my wisdom;
For i am like an ornament of beauty beside you!
Let me lead you on right through the path of love,
For the way of the wicked is like darkness;
So promote me with your love like the new sword besdie you,
For you have the sweet love of the muse that i need.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Extinguish
Extinguish the lamp of love and,
Let us sleep together on this bed of roses;
For you have distinguished yourself among others,
And i will praise you with my riches and honour always.
The pleasantness and the peace of my love is for you only,
So embrace me with your love that muses;
Fo i need a sound wisdom and discretion on this love,
Because my love is like the beautiful ornament on your neck!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Courtesie is cumbersome to them that ken it not.
War Profits
THE horns of the moon are tipped
With pearl. Her lover, wooed
By charms and won, Endymion,
Inherits quietude.
White the gleam
Of the dream
On his eyes.
The horns of the sun are dipt
In ruddy flame that flings
Adventurous young Icarus
To earth on ruined wings.
But he flew,
But he knew
Winds and skies.
Lucifer's horns have a crust
Of gold and topaz gem
On points that thrust to yellow dust
The heart that covets them.
Heed! take heed!
For by greed
Glory dies.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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For instance, if you're playing a record with drums - horns would sound nice to enhance it so you get a record with horns and slip it in at certain times.
quote by Grandmaster Flash
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A cumbersome Cur in company is hated for his miscarriage.
The Satyr
When the flowery hands of spring
Forth their woodland riches fling,
Through the meadows, through the valleys
Goes the satyr carolling.
From the mountain and the moor,
Forest green and ocean shore
All the faerie kin he rallies
Making music evermore.
See! the shaggy pelt doth grow
On his twisted shanks below,
And his dreadful feet are cloven
Though his brow be white as snow-
Though his brow be clear and white
And beneath it fancies bright,
Wisdom and high thoughts are woven
And the musics of delight,
Though his temples too be fair
Yet two horns are growing there
Bursting forth to part asunder
All the riches of his hair.
Faerie maidens he may meet
Fly the horns and cloven feet,
But, his sad brown eyes with wonder
Seeing-stay from their retreat.
poem by Clive Staples Lewis
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WElcome Guest, story poem
Harried by hounds the stag is spent.
He is worn out and terrified.
Enters my gates by accident,
In search of somewhere he can hide.
He finds safety in a stall
which has long been unoccupied.
He’s found his haven after all.
Because I instantly decide.
To bar my gates against the hounds
and to the idiots who ride.
They will not trespass on my grounds.
The law is firmly on my side.
The stag is safe and free to stay.
I will ensure he is not harmed
until the hunters go away.
He has no cause to be alarmed.
I’ll set him free to go his way
when he regains his energy.
They must forego their kill today.
The Stag is no mans enemy.
I hate the men who hunt for sport
the harmless creatures of the wild
Who they can kill without a thought.
Our views can not be reconciled
They will return from whence they came
slowly and dejectedly.
Because I spoilt the little game
They’ll ban me from their company.
A ban that will not worry me
although they are convinced it will.
I much prefer the company
of the wild deer they hope to kill.
The Stag appear to understand
although it watches warily.
That it is safe by my command
and he is resting easily.
When it grows dark I’ll turn him loose
back to the freedom that he knows.
I am quite sure he won’t refuse.
Though I’ll be sad to see him go.
He was not born to be confined.
He has a nobler destiny.
Protecting his small flock of hinds
and raising up a family.
I think he knows I wish him well
and looks at me before he goes.
He has no tongue in which to tell.
But I am certain that he knows.
Tuesday,16 March 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Wisdom’s value
Wisdom is felt, not learnt.
Wisdom begins at the end;
Wisdom is not wise in time;
Why must you value the wisdom?
05.09.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Triumphant Day
Yesterday was a day of triumph and laughter,
Noises were cumbersome, much like the activator.
poem by Naveed Akram
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