En.Citatepedia^®.ro

At The Eleventh Hour

As through the blue expanse he skims
On joyous wings, the late
Frank Hutchings overtakes Miss Sims,
Both bound for Heaven's high gate.

In life they loved and (God knows why
A lover so should sue)
He slew her, on the gallows high
Died pious-and they flew.

Her pinions were bedraggled, soiled
And torn as by a gale,
While his were bright-all freshly oiled
The feathers of his tail.

Her visage, too, was stained and worn
And menacing and grim;
His sweet and mild-you would have sworn
That _she_ had murdered _him_.

When they'd arrived before the gate
He said to her: 'My dear,
'Tis hard once more to separate,
But _you_ can't enter here.

'For you, unluckily, were sent
So quickly to the grave
You had no notice to repent,
Nor time your soul to save.'

''Tis true,' said she, 'and I should wail
In Hell even now, but I
Have lingered round the county jail
To see a Christian die.'

poem by Ambrose Bierce
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To the Queen

The Door of Death is made of Gold,
That Mortal Eyes cannot behold;
But, when the Mortal Eyes are clos'd,
And cold and pale the Limbs repos'd,
The Soul awakes; and, wond'ring, sees
In her mild Hand the golden Keys:
The Grave is Heaven's golden Gate,
And rich and poor around it wait;
O Shepherdess of England's Fold,
Behold this Gate of Pearl and Gold!

To dedicate to England's Queen
The Visions that my Soul has seen,
And, by Her kind permission, bring
What I have borne on solemn Wing,
From the vast regions of the Grave,
Before Her Throne my Wings I wave;
Bowing before my Sov'reign's Feet,
“The Grave produc'd these Blossoms sweet
“In mild repose from Earthly strife;
“The Blossoms of Eternal Life!”

poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1794)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To Hope

WHEN by my solitary hearth I sit,
And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom;
When no fair dreams before my "mind's eye" flit,
And the bare heath of life presents no bloom;
Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head!

Whene'er I wander, at the fall of night,
Where woven boughs shut out the moon's bright ray,
Should sad Despondency my musings fright,
And frown, to drive fair Cheerfulness away,
Peep with the moonbeams through the leafy roof,
And keep that fiend Despondence far aloof!

Should Disappointment, parent of Despair,
Strive for her son to seize my careless heart;
When, like a cloud, he sits upon the air,
Preparing on his spell-bound prey to dart:
Chase him away, sweet Hope, with visage bright,
And fright him as the morning frightens night!

Whene'er the fate of those I hold most dear
Tells to my fearful breast a tale of sorrow,
O bright-eyed Hope, my morbidfancy cheer;
Let me awhile thy sweetest comforts borrow:
Thy heaven-born radiance around me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head!

Should e'er unhappy love my bosom pain,
From cruel parents, or relentless fair;
O let me think it is not quite in vain
To sigh out sonnets to the midnight air!
Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head!

In the long vista of the years to roll,
Let me not see our country's honour fade:
O let me see our land retain her soul,
Her pride, her freedom; and not freedom's shade.
From thy bright eyes unusual brightness shed---
Beneath thy pinions canopy my head!

Let me not see the patriot's high bequest,
Great Liberty! how great in plain attire!
With the base purple of a court oppress'd,
Bowing her head, and ready to expire:
But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings
That fill the skies with silver glitterings!

And as, in sparkling majesty, a star
Gilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud;
Brightening the half veil'd face of heaven afar:
So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud,
Sweet Hope, celestial influence round me shed,
Waving thy silver pinions o'er my head!

poem by John Keats
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Inside Heaven Gate

I CLOSE MY EYES FOR THE FINAL TIME
LETTING MY MIND GO FREE
BECAUSE CLOUDS OF FOG SURROUNDING ME
AS I CONTINUE MY JOURNEY TO HEAVEN GATE
THROUGH A SMOKE FILL SKY OF ANGELS
FLYING AROUND
WITH THERE GLITTERING WINGS
AND THERE FRIENDLY HELLO
FLYING UP AND DOWN AND ALL AROUND
AS I MAKE MY WAY TO HEAVEN GATE
WITH MY SPIRITS THAT CAUGHT UP TO ME
AND MY PRAYERS THAT GOT ANSWER AT MY SIDE
ALONG WITH THE STARS THAT I HAVE WISH UPON
TO SEE MY LOVE ONES AGAIN
HAVE NOW COME TRUE
BECAUSE THERE GIVING ME A CHEER
SAYING GLAD YOUR HERE
INSIDE HEAVEN GATE,

poem by Bruce Martone
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The Weird Lady

The swevens came up round Harold the Earl,
Like motes in the sunnes beam;
And over him stood the Weird Lady,
In her charmed castle over the sea,
Sang 'Lie thou still and dream.'

'Thy steed is dead in his stall, Earl Harold,
Since thou hast been with me;
The rust has eaten thy harness bright,
And the rats have eaten thy greyhound light,
That was so fair and free.'

Mary Mother she stooped from heaven;
She wakened Earl Harold out of his sweven,
To don his harness on;
And over the land and over the sea
He wended abroad to his own countrie,
A weary way to gon.

Oh but his beard was white with eld,
Oh but his hair was gray;
He stumbled on by stock and stone,
And as he journeyed he made his moan
Along that weary way.

Earl Harold came to his castle wall;
The gate was burnt with fire;
Roof and rafter were fallen down,
The folk were strangers all in the town,
And strangers all in the shire.

Earl Harold came to a house of nuns,
And he heard the dead-bell toll;
He saw the sexton stand by a grave;
'Now Christ have mercy, who did us save,
Upon yon fair nun's soul.'

The nuns they came from the convent gate
By one, by two, by three;
They sang for the soul of a lady bright
Who died for the love of a traitor knight:
It was his own lady.

He stayed the corpse beside the grave;
'A sign, a sign!' quod he.
'Mary Mother who rulest heaven,
Send me a sign if I be forgiven
By the woman who so loved me.'

A white dove out of the coffin flew;
Earl Harold's mouth it kist;
He fell on his face, wherever he stood;
And the white dove carried his soul to God
Or ever the bearers wist.

Durham, 1840.

poem by Charles Kingsley
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Forty Letters To A Woman – Third Letter –

You were the harpist
At the gate of heaven.
I was about crossing that gate
when we first met.

I never though,
felt, or captured your inner songs
that flew with the harp melody
until I left heaven from the other gate.

I never knew
that your were the first picture
and the last sound of heaven
until I left it.

What remains
now in
my deepest memories
an ancient question
- and that is
what I try to get rid of: -

What makes heaven
heaven?
is it a melody,
a woman's melody at the gate of heaven,
or the silent melody in a woman eyes?

poem by Atef Ayadi
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Heaven's Gate

Grass over my grave
So I died,
So long before you cried.
And now I wait at Heaven's gate,
Will they let me pass?
I doubt.
The things I did in my past
They now stand on my way
At Heaven's gate.
Lucifer! bare my heart,
Christ! hear my cry;
I wait at the gate
To your heart,
And they wont let me pass

poem by Efe Benjamin
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Long Ago

I loved a maiden, long ago,
She held within her hand my fate;
And in the ruddy sunset glow
We lingered at the garden gate.

The splendor of the western skies
Lay in a halo on her hair.
I gazed with worship in her eyes,
And deemed her true and knew her fair.

'Good night,' I said, and turned away;
She held me with her subtle smile.
I saw her red lips whisper 'stay,'
And so I lingered yet awhile.

'I love you, love you, sweet!' I said,
She laughed, and whispered, 'I love you.'
I kissed her small mouth, ripe and red,
And knew her fair, and deemed her true.

'Twas very, very long ago,
And I was young, and so was she;
My faith as love was strong, for oh!
The maid was all the world to me.

But as the sunset died away
And left the heavens cold and blue,
So died my dream of love one day.
The maid was only fair,
not
true.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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An Act

Deploring an act is to despise the person,
Others do sin as well, but what is that sin?
The entrance shines in front of you,
Take the brother of this gate, and you prosper.
Sins are to be forgiven, welcome to the good,
This gate then opens for some who do not murder.
Let felons work after heaven and hell are laid,
Eggs of dangerous properties are eaten by the criminals.
Once the eggs enter the stomach, a real wrong enters,
Eggs of hens are not lethal, but these are different.
An act so despised can never leave the soul,
And the souls can never enter the brotherly gates.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Rubber Bullets/sngl/bonus

10cc - rubber bullets
---------------------
I went to a party at the local county jail
All the cons were dancing and the band began to wail
But the guys were indiscreet
They were brawling in the street
At the local dance at the local county jail
Well the band were playing
And the booze began to flow
But the sound came over on the police car radio
Down at precinct 49
Having a tear-gas of a time
Sergeant baker got a call from the governor of the county jail
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
I love to hear those convicts squeal
It's a shame these slugs ain't real
But we can't have dancin' at the local county jail
Sergeant baker and his men made a bee-line for the jail
And for miles around
You could hear the sirens wail
There's a rumor goin' round death row
That a fuse is gonna blow
At the local hop at the local county jail
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
Sergeant baker started talkin'
With a bullhorn in his hand
He was cool, he was clear
He was always in command
He said "blood will flow;
Here padre
Padre you talk to your boys..."
"trust in me -
God will come to set you free"
Well we don't understand
Why you called in the national guard
When uncle sam is the one
Who belongs in the exercise yard
We all got balls and brains
But some's got balls and chains
At the local dance at the local county jail
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
Is it really such a crime
For a guy to spend his time
At the local dance at the local county jail
At the local dance at the local county jail
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do

song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rubber Bullets

I went to a party at the local county jail
All the cons were dancing and the band began to wail
But the guys were indiscreet
They were brawling in the street
At the local dance at the local county jail
Well the band were playing
And the booze began to flow
But the sound came over on the police car radio
Down at precinct 49
Having a tear-gas of a time
Sergeant baker got a call from the governor of the county jail
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
I love to hear those convicts squeal
Its a shame these slugs aint real
But we cant have dancin at the local county jail
Sergeant baker and his men made a bee-line for the jail
And for miles around
You could hear the sirens wail
Theres a rumor goin round death row
That a fuse is gonna blow
At the local hop at the local county jail
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
Sergeant baker started talkin
With a bullhorn in his hand
He was cool, he was clear
He was always in command
He said blood will flow;
Here padre
Padre you talk to your boys...
Trust in me -
God will come to set you free
Well we dont understand
Why you called in the national guard
When uncle sam is the one
Who belongs in the exercise yard
We all got balls and brains
But somes got balls and chains
At the local dance at the local county jail
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
Is it really such a crime
For a guy to spend his time
At the local dance at the local county jail
At the local dance at the local county jail
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do

song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Front Gate

W'en daih's chillun in de house,
Dey keep on a-gittin' tall;
But de folks don' seem to see
Dat dey's growin' up at all,
'Twell dey fin' out some fine day
Dat de gals has 'menced to grow,
W'en dey notice as dey pass
Dat de front gate's saggin' low.
W'en de hinges creak an' cry,
An' de bahs go slantin' down,
You kin reckon dat hit's time
Fu' to cas' yo' eye erroun',
'Cause daih ain't no 'sputin' dis,
Hit's de trues' sign to show
Dat daih's cou'tin goin' on
W'en de ol' front gate sags low.
Oh, you grumble an' complain,
An' you prop dat gate up right;
But you notice right nex' day
Dat hit's in de same ol' plight.
So you fin' dat hit's a rule,
An' daih ain' no use to blow,
W'en de gals is growin' up,
Dat de front gate will sag low.
Den you t'ink o' yo' young days,
W'en you cou'ted Sally Jane,
An' you so't o' feel ashamed
Fu' to grumble an' complain,
'Cause yo' ricerlection says,
An' you know hits wo'ds is so,
Dat huh pappy had a time
Wid his front gate saggin' low.
So you jes' looks on an' smiles
At 'em leanin' on de gate,
Tryin' to t'ink whut he kin say
Fu' to keep him daih so late,
But you lets dat gate erlone,
Fu' yo' 'sperunce goes to show,
'Twell de gals is ma'ied off,
It gwine keep on saggin' low.

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Gate Keeper

each night the wonder of darkness comes
in a most revealing light of what is leaving in
the midst of light

that's the most wonderful moment to happen
every night, when closing the eyes, comes the
unsolicited phenomenon of living with other souls

in the state of life, i have seen nothing but a
pure white color of no colors, different than our
naked eyes have perceived, it’s an awesome and
beautiful as a sleep, where a moment is not
counted for a day

waking me up talking with St. Peter and listening
the past is remembering the, teaching of the church
the gate keeper of heaven

a pleasure and honor, which is done, where
breathing is passing the past of learning on how
to enter the gate of memories

the gate is beautiful made of blue pearl with a crystal
stone of granite enter locking with diamond tupaz
between each border of threaded coil of gold as the
design, galloping the entire post of two big pillars,
facing the rising ladder of infinity clouds of smoke

just a cold breezing like melted malt seducing my
skin to smell its fragrance passion of perfume in
my nostrils of incensed myrrh of immortal soul

the gate keeper dress with a simple style of
fashionable French red cloth and a slipper made
in the Marikina, standing with a poise asking
each one with a bed like soft voice, of my name

all comes likes a vision in darkness of the night
where no immortal soul have witness the gate
of the gate keeper enter the pedulum he stands,
just wait and you will see the gate keeper in
heaven......in your dream

poem by Antonio Liao
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St. Peter At The Golden Gate

St. Peter at the Golden Gate
Explained, for me it’s much too late
That Heaven’s gate, without a doubt
Was built right there to keep me out

It’s common knowledge, I’m no Saint
But a real bad guy, I surely ain’t
Heaven knows, I’ve done some wrong
But it doesn’t mean I don’t belong

I know I’m not the most devout
But pray, St. Peter, don’t fence me out
I promise I won’t cause chagrin
To those in Heaven, all fenced in

I’ll run a casino for all to enjoy
I’ll run it as pure as an altar boy
And dear St. Peter, I give you this pledge
At Heaven’s casino, I’ll give you an edge

So you see, St. Peter, Heaven can’t wait
What’s needed in Heaven, is me, your soul mate
Do what you can to unlock the key
So together we’ll be, St. Peter and me…

poem by Stanley Cooper
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Inspired By A Radio Story

Monarch butterflies were flitting above the smoke
And one of the New York firemen dousing the still smouldering ashes spoke
Saying those are the souls of the many who died here
On silent wings to heaven's gate they near.

The souls of those who died on that September day
Towards a better World now slowly wing their way
Of all sufferings and troubles now quite free
For to re-live in love and joy and harmony.

The smoke from the smouldering ashes their souls did release
And they now can live forever more in peace
In that paradise somewhere beyond the skies
The fireman wiped the teardrops from his eyes.

On September the eleventh New York's blackest day
When tragedy came to the U.S.A.
The great Twin Towers by aerial terrorists destroyed
And the souls still live of all of those who died.

Butterflies flew towards the sunlight above the clouds of smoke
And his comrades listened as the fireman spoke
And said those are the souls of the people who died here
On silent wings towards heaven's gate they near.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Wish You Were Here

I sent you a postcard
Thought it would be funny
Would have sent a souvenir
But they took all my money
It's pretty warm down here but it ain't sunny
And I'm having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
I tried to call you
I tried to call you
Long distance operators that only stall you
Besides the damn rates are so high
They just appall you
And I'm having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
And I'm having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
It started out a nice vacation
Left the station right on time
Can't get a ticket to get me home, dear
They just don't have too many flights from twilight zone, dear
So don't forget to feed my cats
Spot and Jerome, dear
And I'm having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
Having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
Having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
Seeing all the sights here
I'm getting lonely
I'd show you all the film I took if they would only
Let me go home
Dear, sincerely
I'm having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
I'm having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
I'm having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
I'm having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
I'm having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
I'm having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here

song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Late, Late, So Late

Late, late, so late! and dark the night and chill!
Late, late, so late! but we can enter still.
Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now.
No light had we: for that we do repent;
And learning this, the bridegroom will relent.
Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now.
No light: so late! and dark and chill the night!
O, let us in, that we may find the light!
Too late, too late: ye cannot enter now.

Have we not heard the bridgegroom is so sweet?
O, let us in, tho' late, to kiss his feet!
No, no, too late! ye cannot enter now."

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Don't forget

Whether it love, attachment or infatuation
Remember and don’t forget me in any situation
You may not know how much I care and love you
I take it as sacred to that the name of the Thou

Is it magnetic pull, internal feelings or divinity call?
Person may not mind jumping even high wall
He is sure of everything except his own down fall
Life game is set in with colorful rolling ball

No one knows who will offer blow or first kick
No hard hitting with sweet promises to stick
If no success in life then hard wounds to lick
What will be left other than words to speak?

I have strong apprehensions in mind
Life may turn cruel and will not be kind
Journey may on but on parallel track
Joy and happiness will never be back

I wish to fly high and touch endless blue sky
Wings are strong enough but won’t be able to touch, why?
Nothing seems to be unfavorable but still may elude
Dreams may be scattered without any prelude

I can face the storm and swim rough sea
I can judge calmness, under current and see
Possible future struggle to get something new
Will it be possible if make concerted bid to renew?

Can you reassure me you shall definitely wait?
Withstand all the pressures and never be late
Embrace me with pure love and not with hate
I shall crash against solid wall or Iron Gate

Your words may infuse new lease of energy and strength
I shall have enough will power to go at any length
It will always remind me of bright hope next day
I shall have endeavor to see future possible way

I may not be able to miss you even if you miss
It will constantly remind of hollow words or promise
I shall die not because of dishonor but with disillusion
Life will be living hell with simple hollowness and confusion

It is how I see the future for both of us?
Many bad thoughts may cross mind and influx
It will be very hard to sustain possible blow
Life may inch toward death not fast but slow

People may not want us to unite
Inflame the passion and slowly ignite
I may sustain any blow or cruelty
It will be then slur on part of beauty

It will not be easy to forget and forgive
Life is not commodity to take and give
It has divine bonds to last for ever
Remember always and forget never

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Come Hell Or High Water

Come hell or high water
I will cross the vast expanse of water
Throw anything at me I will dodge it out
Come here hell and I'll make you heaven
Come here high water I'll calm you down.
Let's see who'll beat whom and I'll call you out

Come hell or high water
Let's see what you can do
Let's see how I destroy you
You are no better than a storm
But I am no worse than the red storm on Jupiter too
Let's see how I wipe you out and Make a speck of you

Come hell or high water.
The second I feel the rocking of my ship
I'll take my ship out of you
Then see who's who and I'll defeat you

Come hell or high water
The second I see a ray of light
I'll know your dead
Then Let's see who wins the challenge
The sailor me or just a speck like you!

poem by Paaras Bhardwaj
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Revenge

A spitcat sate on a garden gate
And a snapdog fared beneath;
Careless and free was his mien, and he
Held a fiddle-string in his teeth.

She marked his march, she wrought an arch
Of her back and blew up her tail;
And her eyes were green as ever were seen,
And she uttered a woful wail.

The spitcat's plaint was as follows: 'It ain't
That I am to music a foe;
For fiddle-strings bide in my own inside,
And I twang them soft and low.

'But that dog has trifled with art and rifled
A kitten of mine, ah me!
That catgut slim was marauded from him:
'Tis the string that men call E.'

Then she sounded high, in the key of Y,
A note that cracked the tombs;
And the missiles through the firmament flew
From adjacent sleeping-rooms.

As her gruesome yell from the gate-post fell
She followed it down to earth;
And that snapdog wears a placard that bears
The inscription: 'Blind from birth.'

poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Once I Flew

Once I flew
And it made my fingertips sing
I was more like a God than a king
Now I cant believe that was true
Once I flew
Though you dont believe me I know
You look where Im standing now
You cant believe I left the ground.
Look up to the bright blue sky
Cant you feel life passing by
If you could wouldnt you
Try to soar over everything?
All the pain this world can bring
Once I flew now Ive lost my wings
Now Im down here with you
Now Im down here with you
Once I flew
And the angels were my friends
They would grant me every whim
Now I cant believe that was true
Once I flew
Though its easy to forget
I dont seem to have managed yet.
And I dont think I ever will
Look up to the bright blue sky
Cant you feel the life passing by?
If you could wouldnt you
Try to soar over everything?
All the pain this world can bring
Once I flew now Ive lost my wings
Now Im down here with you
Now Im down here with you.
And in my dreams I am happy again
Youre in my arms and were flying
Again, flying away.

song performed by by White Town
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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