Tempora Mutantur
'The world is dull,' I cried in my despair:
'Its myths and fables are no longer fair.
'Roll back thy centuries, O Father Time.
To Greece transport me in her golden prime.
'Give back the beautiful old Gods again
The sportive Nymphs, the Dryad's jocund train,
'Pan piping on his reeds, the Naiades,
The Sirens singing by the sleepy seas.
'Nay, show me but a Gorgon and I'll dare
To lift mine eyes to her peculiar hair
'(The fatal horrors of her snaky pate,
That stiffen men into a stony state)
'And die-erecting, as my soul goes hence,
A statue of myself, without expense.'
Straight as I spoke I heard the voice of Fate:
'Look up, my lad, the Gorgon sisters wait.'
Raising my eyes, I saw Medusa stand,
Stheno, Euryale, on either hand.
I gazed unpetrified and unappalled
The girls had aged and were entirely bald!
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Related quotes
All things beautiful
I love girls,
They give my heart swirls,
They make feel up,
When they say hey was sup,
I ? girls cause they're beautiful,
I love girls because they're cute,
I would love girls without the looks,
I don't care if they're deaf or mute,
Because love has no ears or sight,
Love sneaks up on you like a thief in the night,
So don't judge a book by its cover,
You do not know it but they could be your lover,
You do not see a flower,
And wish to see it loose it's power,
So don't treat girls as toys,
Because these girls try so hard for the boys,
So give a wink, give a smile,
Provide some time, is always worth while,
To see a face light up like dawn,
Out of pain and being scorn,
It is so much better,
To receive a love letter,
Than to see someone's eyes,
Burn with your demise,
So treat your girls nice,
Or feel the burn of ice,
You think your so tough,
But girls can play rough,
They truly are amazing creatures,
With lovely spirits and great features,
So is not better to see true beauty's eyes,
Than watch a girl tear up and disguise.
I wish I could be someones dream man,
But that will have to wait,
God has called me for a higher purpose,
To protect me from a saddened state,
So all the girls big and round,
Don't beat yourself up, get off the ground,
True beauty lies within the soul,
Stand true stand tall,
You are beautiful just by being you,
They're aren't many girls who actually have a clue,
That looks and great hair,
Fade and get bare,
Stand up for your beliefs,
And get healed with Gods relief,
He loves you as a child,
Even when you go wild,
- to all the girls confused or in doubt,
Don't give me those look, stop that big pout,
Your beautiful to me,
Your beautiful can't you see? !
poem by Jordan Moore
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Moodswings
With the Gorgon's head
Flush to my cheek,
Her ungodly breath
In my nose,
Whispering to me:
'Take the extreme I give you
And plunge it into your fellow man;
For they deserve no less.'
Like an arrow I shot out eyes with my eyes,
A spear, I controlled little lives.
Having changed now,
From a simpering fool
To the devil's tool,
My core is apple-rotten,
Misbegotten,
And all I require is forgiveness
For my tiredness,
Which is the Gorgon of moods.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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Medusa’s Kiss. by Ray Subrata
The trends of gorgons,
From Greek to Modern go on,
And desert hearts seek oasis,
The vital trance of Medusa’ kiss.
Vitality’s beauty, -a fire to flame,
Passions’ blind fury sustains the claim.
Back to the Trojan war, Paris’ Helen,
The stooping of Roman emperors’
To gorgon glory of Cleopatra’s game,
The sway is, Medusa ‘s name,
However fake cloth you constantly wear,
An appeal within of Medusa you bear!
poem by Bazi alis Subrata Ray
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Beautiful eyes, Beautiful lies
Sunlight warms my face only in dreams of you
I know you'll wait for me...it's been too long
Beautiful eyes. beautiful lies to dull the pain
Beautiful eyes, beautiful lies...you're killing me
I would wait for years just to feel you again
I will die without you...would you my love?
Beautiful eyes, beautiful lies pour from your mouth as
You scream his name...you're killing me
Cries escape your sweet voice as I kiss you one last time
Do you remember me and our beautiful affair?
Look in my eyes and honestly tell me our love is gone!
Why have you turned your back on me?
One day you'll wake up and realize your mistake
Ice runs through my veins as I stand face to face with
The one who stole it all
Compassion is not an option
In love we're one, inseparable, pathetic lust, thus we crumble
I saw your eyes, I wiped your tears, I waited for you...
Who do you see with your eyes shut tight?
Cries escape your sweet voice as I paint my own goodbye
poem by Silent Whisper
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Son's Loss-Father's Own
Son's loss-Father's own
He looks at those eyes,
With eyes equally dry,
As though his son's presence in disguise,
Through the stony skins of the statue rise.
So many times the hopes pendulum hath struck the hour,
Yet the wound hath remained like a laurel's flower,
How long the matoid heart can wait?
And how long could it remain in mantensite state?
The site of his stone built son-to him ike a halidon;
And his grief here for no one to reckon;
How much can he to his son's statue felicitate?
This dreadful vacuum for no one to obliterate.
What more a father can do being a heart lazurus?
To whom the world and his own being seems impious!
poem by Sonnet Mondal
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Time's Hymn Of Hate
Oh, boastful, wicked land, that once was beautiful and great,
How bitter and how black must be your self-invited fate,
While Time goes down the centuries and sings his hymn of hate!
Time's voice is just. His words ring true. For as the past recedes,
The clear-eyed Future slowly writes the story of its deeds;
And as Time toward the Infinite his ceaseless flight is winging
He shall go singing
The hymn of hate, of men and gods, for all your deeds of lust,
For all your acts of cruelty and hell-concocted schemes
(More hideous than the darkest plot of which a devil dreams)
Which sprang from your Medusa head before it touched the dust.
Beneath the strangling hand of Fate
That strident voice of yours
Shall hush to silence, soon or late
That Justice that endures
Will mobilise its mighty ranks and free the human race,
Then shall all Space,
Yea, all the chains of sphere on sphere,
With that loud hymn be ringing,
Which Time goes singing
His far flight winging
And all the cherubims of God that dwell in regions o'er us
Shall swell the chorus.
Oh, boastful, wicked land, that once was beautiful and great,
How desolate and dark must be your self-invited fate,
While Time goes down the centuries and sings his hymn of hate!
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Turned Into Stone
Change the course of history,
So that the building of rest is absurd.
My gorgon hisses fully in my direction,
The underworld can keep secrets,
But a gorgon hisses in me
All of the secrets of stone,
That I become stone itself.
The history I observed as a child
Made me an angry statue
By scouting this far,
There is no glimmer of hope,
And I revere this.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Last Sunset
The old man staring out a frosted window.
Watching life his go by.
Wondering what could have been.
Had he only tried.
Things could have been so different.
He thinks with such regret.
His end is coming closer.
This is his last sunset.
He thinks of the love that he lost.
And how he let her go.
If he could turn back the hands of time,
His love for her he'd show.
Success it was his idol.
Money, work and fame.
His work's what he took serious.
His life was but a game.
A game he played against the odds.
He thought that he would win.
But money wasn't everything.
Much to his chagrin.
He remembered a story he heard one day,
About a man named Christ.
And all the lives this man had changed.
And changed without a price.
Their lives were complete and full of peace.
And all their dreams came true.
Not with money, work and fame.
But with how their spirits grew.
The old man knowing his end was near.
Called out to The One.
“Help me know just what I missed”
He cried out to God's son.
The man with tears now in his eyes.
Looked up to heaven above.
And felt a hand upon his arm.
That filled the man with love.
And then a hug, a warm embrace.
He held the man so tight.
He vowed to not let that man go.
Alone into the night.
The man he spoke to Jesus.
And repented all his sin.
Jesus spoke with a gentle voice,
“I know just where you've been.”
“That's why I came to save you,
and I hung upon my cross.
Even though your end is near.
Son, you're no longer lost.”
The man he then closed his eyes.
With a smile upon his face.
Knowing the home going to,
Was a much more loving place.
The Savior then he took his hand,
And led the old man's soul.
To an eternity full of peace.
From a life with no control.
The old man now young and looking down.
Wondering why did he wait,
To feel the joy that Jesus brought.
But at least it wasn't too late.
The Father will come running.
To his children when they cry.
For you only have one life to live.
So don't wait until your last goodbye.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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To Mrs. Frances--Arabella Kelly.
To Day, as at my Glass I stood,
To set my Head--cloaths, and my Hood;
I saw my grizzled Locks with Dread,
And call'd to mind the Gorgon's Head.
Thought I, whate'er the Poets say,
Medusa's Hair was only gray:
Tho' Ovid, who the Story told,
Was too well--bred to call her old;
But, what amounted to the same,
He made her an immortal Dame.
Yet now, whene'er a Matron sage
Hath felt the rugged Hand of Age,
You hear out witty Coxcombs cry,
Rot that old Witch--she'll never die.
Tho', had they but a little Reading,
Ovid would teach them better Breeding.
I fancy now, I hear you say,
Grant Heav'n, my Locks may ne'er be gray!
Why am I told this frightful Story?
To Beauty a Memento mori.
And, as along the Room you pass,
Casting your Eye upon the Glass,
Surely, say you, this lovely Face
Will never suffer such Disgrace:
The Bloom, that on my Cheek appears,
Will never be impair'd by Years.
Her Envy, now, I plainly see,
Makes her inscribe those Lines to me.
These Beldams, who were born before me,
Are griev'd to see the Men adore me:
Their snaky Locks freeze up the Blood;
My Tresses fire the purple Flood.
Unnumber'd Slaves around me wait,
And from my Eyes expect their Fate:
I own, of Conquest I am vain,
Tho' I despise the Slaves I gain.
Heav'n gave me Charms, and destin'd me
For universal Tyranny.
poem by Mary Barber
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The Host Of The Air
O'DRISCOLL drove with a song
The wild duck and the drake
From the tall and the tufted reeds
Of the drear Hart Lake.
And he saw how the reeds grew dark
At the coming of night-tide,
And dreamed of the long dim hair
Of Bridget his bride.
He heard while he sang and dreamed
A piper piping away,
And never was piping so sad,
And never was piping so gay.
And he saw young men and young girls
Who danced on a level place,
And Bridget his bride among them,
With a sad and a gay face.
The dancers crowded about him
And many a sweet thing said,
And a young man brought him red wine
And a young girl white bread.
But Bridget drew him by the sleeve
Away from the merry bands,
To old men playing at cards
With a twinkling of ancient hands.
The bread and the wine had a doom,
For these were the host of the air;
He sat and played in a dream
Of her long dim hair.
He played with the merry old men
And thought not of evil chance,
Until one bore Bridget his bride
Away from the merry dance.
He bore her away in his atms,
The handsomest young man there,
And his neck and his breast and his arms
Were drowned in her long dim hair.
O'Driscoll scattered the cards
And out of his dream awoke:
Old men and young men and young girls
Were gone like a drifting smoke;
But he heard high up in the air
A piper piping away,
And never was piping so sad,
And never was piping so gay.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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A Boy's Trials
When I was but a little lad
One thing I could not bear,
It was to stand at mother's knee
And have her comb my hair.
They didn't keep boys' hair as short
As it's kept now-a-days,
And mine was always tangled up
In twenty different ways.
I'd twist my mouth and grit my teeth,
And say it wasn't fair-
It was a trial, and no mistake,
When mother combed my hair.
She'd brush and brush each stubborn curl
That grew upon my pate,
And with her scissors nip and clip
To make the edges straight.
Then smooth it down until it shone,
While I would grin and bear,
And feel a martyr through and through,
When mother combed my hair.
She'd take my round chin in her hand
And hold it there the while
She made the parting carefully,
Then tell me with a smile:
'Don't push your cap down on your curls
And spoil my work and care;
He is a pretty little lad
When mother combs his hair.'
I'd hurry out and rumple up
That mop of hair so thick-
A vandal, I, for she had worked
So hard to make it slick-
And wish I were a grown-up man
So nobody would dare
To put a washrag in my ears,
Or comb my tangled hair.
Heigho! now that I'm bald and gray,
Methinks I would be glad
To have her smooth my brow and cheeks,
And whisper, 'Mother's lad!'
A longing for the care-free days
Doth take me unaware;
To stand, a boy, at mother's knee
And have her comb my hair.
poem by Jean Blewett
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How Beautiful You Are
You want to know why i hate you?
Well i'll try and explain...
You remember that day in paris
When we wandered through the rain
And promised to each other
That we'd always think the same
And dreamed that dream
To be two souls as one
And stopped just as the sun set
And waited for the night
Outside a glittering building
Of glittering glass and burning light...
And in the road before us
Stood a weary greyish man
Who held a child upon his back
A small boy by the hand
The three of them were dressed in rags
And thinner than the air
And all six eyes stared fixedly on you
The father's eyes said "beautiful!
How beautiful you are!"
The boy's eyes said
"how beautiful!
She shimmers like a star!"
The childs eyes uttered nothing
But a mute and utter joy
And filled my heart with shame for us
At the way we are
I turned to look at you
To read my thoughts upon your face
And gazed so deep into your eyes
So beautiful and strange
Until you spoke
And showed me understanding is a dream
"i hate these people staring
Make them go away from me!"
The fathers eyes said "beautiful!
How beautiful you are!"
The boys eyes said
"how beautiful! she glitters like a star!"
The child's eyes uttered joy
And stilled my heart with sadness
For the way we are
And this is why i hate you
And how i understand
That no-one ever knows or loves another
Or loves another
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Statues Crumble
Still and tall as a statue.
I stand straight with perfect posture
At every event.
Be it a birthday party,
Or a funeral.
And, if it is a funeral, I'm the one
Everyone leans on.
'Tis a heavy weight I lift, every time,
And I don't have much stone left now.
Not sure how many more times I can hold them.
I'm losing my stone to rain and other weather.
It's eroding.
How much longer before I
Crumble to the ground,
Just a heap of dust?
I want to stay strong, but I'm weakening.
If I crumble who can put me back
Together again?
If I crumble when I crumble.
Will I ever be a statue again?
Still and strong, I am a statue.
But statues crumble
poem by Raven Lightner
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To the Oracle at Delphi
Great Oracle, why are you staring at me,
do I baffle you, do I make you despair?
I, Americus, the American,
wrought from the dark in my mother long ago,
from the dark of ancient Europa--
Why are you staring at me now
in the dusk of our civilization--
Why are you staring at me
as if I were America itself
the new Empire
vaster than any in ancient days
with its electronic highways
carrying its corporate monoculture
around the world
And English the Latin of our days--
Great Oracle, sleeping through the centuries,
Awaken now at last
And tell us how to save us from ourselves
and how to survive our own rulers
who would make a plutocracy of our democracy
in the Great Divide
between the rich and the poor
in whom Walt Whitman heard America singing
O long-silent Sybil,
you of the winged dreams,
Speak out from your temple of light
as the serious constellations
with Greek names
still stare down on us
as a lighthouse moves its megaphone
over the sea
Speak out and shine upon us
the sea-light of Greece
the diamond light of Greece
Far-seeing Sybil, forever hidden,
Come out of your cave at last
And speak to us in the poet's voice
the voice of the fourth person singular
the voice of the inscrutable future
the voice of the people mixed
with a wild soft laughter--
And give us new dreams to dream,
Give us new myths to live by!
poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
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My Eyes Have Seen You
My eyes have seen you x3
Stand in your door
When we meet inside
Show me some more x3
My eyes have seen you x3
Turn and stare
Fix your hair
Move upstairs x3
My eyes have seen you x3
Free from disguise
Gazing on a city under
Television skies x3
My eyes have seen you x2
Eyes have seen you
Let them photograph your soul
Memorize your alleys
On an endless roll
Endless roll x15
song performed by by Doors
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Fathers Daughter
She is the apple in my eye
She is the sun that radiates from the sky
She is the moon and the stars up above
She is my daughter- she is my love.
She brightens up the darkest night
She is my guiding light.
From the second she was born
My life turned completely around
I had purpose, and a love profound.
The smile on her face, and those piercing eyes
“ this was life” - I can’t deny.
When she grabs your finger and
Squeezes it with all her might
It becomes a most beautiful sight.
The time goes by quickly as she starts to grow
And you take her Christmas shopping
Or her first picture show.
When she first starts realizing
What boys are all about
And with her friends, she giggles and shouts.
Then as a father you know, it’s getting
Close to that time
when she will no longer be mine.
She will no longer be daddy s little girl
She has become a gem, a diamond. A pearl.
She is now the treasure that men are seeking
And it’s a thought that I am keeping.
Will they value this treasure the same as me
Because if not-“they better set her free.”
She knows that when she is hurt and in despair
I will never turn my back- I’ll always be there.
She is my life, my blood, my soul
She is the one that keeps me whole.
I will give up everything that I’ve
Gained in this life.
For her I will make the ultimate sacrifice.
poem by Louis Rams
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Iced Espresso With A Straw
In another world (hmm..) after or before
he was aloof diverging in a 4x4
her hair of Medusa in his fingers tangled,
smiling Hercules loved and wrangled;
Chimeras distracted him sly to finagle,
Tartarus was a sauce spread on a bagel;
sneaky Harpies stole his yummy breakfast;
as he visioned a Naiad of an aquatic caste.
An austere philosopher drinks coffee,
in a vast sincerity, stirs in a toffee;
Gorgon rushes threatening, with a chomp,
chews his hair relentlessly in a romp!
With half hair desperate, prays to Apollo
his students God Dionysus, in bars follow;
wise Apollo sends Hebe to treat him but
she offers him wisely a marine hair cut.
Now the philosopher becomes Theseus,
fair Ariadne is a Nymph, blessed by Zeus;
her mane tangled in his tips, he thinks;
an iced espresso with a straw, he drinks;
His 4x4 takes him to a temple of Poseidon
while in air epic comes, music of Haydn;
Medusa's hair waves on his windshield,
her Siren song enfolds him, on Attica field.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Eyes of Death
I looked into your eyes
Your Eyes of Death
I killed for those eyes to look into mine
Into my eyes of pain and guilt
I dared to walk into your path
I dared to take your hand into mine
And I dared to tell you my darkest secret
I stared into your Eyes of Death
And I lost my soul to them
When I looked into your Eyes of Death.
To this day, I am still dead
To this day, I can no longer live in the mortal world
To this day, we shall not die of fire, water, or love,
But of our Eyes of Death that rein our souls
I stare into your Eyes of Death and I cringe at the sight
I look into your Eyes of Death and I am no longer alive
I looked into your Eyes of Death
And I died again, before I could run from them
For I cannot stand to be around you to this very day again
I looked into your eyes
Your Eyes…of Death
poem by Jade DragonHeart
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Lonely Tear
I close my eyes and you are there
As you stand in front of me
I reach out my hand to hold you
As you have set my soul and mind free
You then give me a smile and then a kiss
And now my heart and soul is on fire
I tremble and shake with thoughts only of you
My heart is full of want and your desire.
You then close your eyes and walk towards me
We then kiss with both passion and need
You gave me what I want I gave you what you have
To each other our passions we will feed.
You then step away to show me who you are
I ravish you with my hands and eyes
I then caress your breasts and touch your lips
Once again I am a man deep inside.
You turn around just one more time
To prove to me that your the woman for me
I take a deep breath it explodes in my soul
My soul and mind of all other women is free.
You take me by the hand and lead me to our bed
We lay down together with you at my side
Your head is on my chest and my hands in your hair
My passion for you for this night I will not hide.
You then make me a man I can barely stand
I look at you as you are covered with silk and lace
We then kiss again you’re my lover and friend
As I can see the pleasure upon your face.
I open my eyes and now you are gone
And sadly it was a dream you are no longer here
I now forget the passion and the words I had spoke
Now I walk away alone, with one lonely tear.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Give Back My Soul
Give back my soul,
You took it away one day,
Or I had given you,
On rent some day,
Give back my soul.
Life had happened before,
Life had happened since,
Life will happen henceforth,
But give back my soul.
The soul was my property sole;
The loss I would not bear
I have nobody to console,
Please give back my soul.
I want those happy days back,
I want those serene times back,
I want those joyous memories back,
Give back my Soul.
I know you won't come back,
For you have a life wonderful;
I know you won't look back,
For you have a companion cheerful;
Give back my soul.
Now people too say,
You were soulful once,
What happened?
You look soulless now,
Give back my soul.
My soul was mine.
I trusted you mine.
I gave you my soul.
Give back my Soul.
The body is dying.
The soul is flying.
The eternity shall happen;
For the sake of,
You and Mine.
poem by Sanjeev Kumar
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