Seeds will not sleep in golden caskets. They prefer the earth, however barren.
aphorism by Valeriu Butulescu from Immensity of the Point, translated by Eva A. Ziem
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Choices
i prefer smooth peanut butter
to crunchy
mind you
crunchy is all right
but i prefer smooth.
i prefer strawberry jam
to raspberry
mind you
raspberry is tasty
but it's got all those seeds
and i prefer strawberry.
i prefer mustard
to mayonaisse
mind you mayonaisse has it's place
amongst condiments
but is likely to go bad
if left out to long
and poison everyone
so on the whole i prefer mustard.
i prefer cooked meat
to raw meat
for much the same reason
as i prefer mustard to mayonaisse
although it also has to do
with the fact that i don't
like my meat to bleat
or moo or make chicken noises (BAGOCK!)
when i eat
so i tend to avoid the raw
though mind you
the meat that i prefer
may at some time have been raw.
i prefer not to say
why i think so
but i do
and i suppose it's all
just a matter of taste
so if you'd prefer to think so
then crunchy is better
than smooth
even if it does interfere
with the texture of the
peanut butter
and jelly (strawberry) sandwich
which ought to be somewhat
devoid of substance
merely a sticky sweet something
to fill your stomach
put mayonaisse on it
if you like
i'd prefer not to think about it.
poem by Laura Sewell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Possibilities
I prefer movies.
I prefer cats.
I prefer the oaks along the Warta.
I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky.
I prefer myself liking people
to myself loving mankind.
I prefer keeping a needle and thread on hand, just in case.
I prefer the color green.
I prefer not to maintain
that reason is to blame for everything.
I prefer exceptions.
I prefer to leave early.
I prefer talking to doctors about something else.
I prefer the old fine-lined illustrations.
I prefer the absurdity of writing poems
to the absurdity of not writing poems.
I prefer, where love's concerned, nonspecific anniversaries
that can be celebrated every day.
I prefer moralists
who promise me nothing.
I prefer cunning kindness to the over-trustful kind.
I prefer the earth in civvies.
I prefer conquered to conquering countries.
I prefer having some reservations.
I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of order.
I prefer Grimms' fairy tales to the newspapers' front pages.
I prefer leaves without flowers to flowers without leaves.
I prefer dogs with uncropped tails.
I prefer light eyes, since mine are dark.
I prefer desk drawers.
I prefer many things that I haven't mentioned here
to many things I've also left unsaid.
I prefer zeroes on the loose
to those lined up behind a cipher.
I prefer the time of insects to the time of stars.
I prefer to knock on wood.
I prefer not to ask how much longer and when.
I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility
that existence has its own reason for being.
poem by Wislawa Szymborska
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
The Sower
Sure of the spring that warms them into birth,
The golden seeds thou trustest to the earth;
And dost thou doubt the eternal spring sublime,
For deeds--the seeds which wisdom sows in time.
poem by Friedrich Schiller
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Work, Sleep, Work, Sleep, Work
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work:
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work.
Oh free me please with gentle ease
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work!
This odium, pounding tedium
Of my work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
Just whisk me off to lands afar
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
That grinding train of rhythmic pain
Called ‘Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.’
Poor neural circuits fizzle and pop
In work, sleep, work, sleep, work,
In trying to make some sense of all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
But Hark! I see a golden gleam -
A saving spirit of hope:
‘You’re fired! ’ He screams. What news to bear,
This wondrous hangman’s rope!
So now I’m free, released from all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
Eternal peace and rest for me, no
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The First Spring Day
THE sunshine died long ago,
Stifled out long ago,
And the waste of the world was grey,
And night was the best to know,
For night was to doze and forget the day,
To be warm and forgetting and still,
And need not the sun and know not the chill:
But oh, for the day that was darkened so!
Why gaze on a barren heaven,
Void and unchanging heaven,
On a barren earth in the grime,
And not a poor blossom given,
No thing that was thinking of sunshine time,
For a promise, a praise of the past?
And so one forgot the sunshine at last;
And sleep could avail, but what to have striven?
The sunshine wakes once anew,
Wakes and is born anew,
And the Age of the earth grows young,
And heaven has its youth for hue,
And hope is the tune of the spring-bird's tongue,
And the leaves in their prisons all hark,
And blossoms will know there is end of the dark:
One hour of the sun, and the spring-time grew!
The sunshine new on the earth,
Heaven to brighten the earth,
And the deathful dimness gone by,
The barren and winter dearth!
And to-day is the best till the next is nigh,
And to-night is to-morrow begun,
To-morrow, when blossoms remember the sun!
Dead hopes, are ye born with the blossoms birth?
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
C a n c e r
Cancer closes caskets
after it closes lives,
as if this cruel demon
bore a ''Fifth Stage'',
upon the grief and loss
for those left behind
to woe in Cancers life.
We have been to the Moon,
kodacked moments on Mars,
and, tho' medical science
has made notable progress,
still Cancer strikes hard,
caskets will remain closed
til we celebrate its Death.
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We must learn not to disassociate the airy flower from the earthy root, for the flower that is cut off from its root fades, and its seeds are barren, whereas the root, secure in mother earth, can produce flower after flower and bring their fruit to maturity.
A Christmas Lullabay
A Christmas Lullaby
Sleep, baby, sleep! The Mother
sings:
Heaven's angels kneel and fold
their wings.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
With swathes of scented hay Thy
bed
By Mary's hand at eve was
spread.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
At midnight came the shepherds,
they
Whom seraphs wakened by the
way.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
And three kings from the East
afar,
Ere dawn came, guided by the
star.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
They brought Thee gifts of gold
and gems,
Pure orient pearls, rich diadems.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
Thou who liest slumbering there,
Art King of Kings, earth, ocean,
air.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
Sleep, baby, sleep! The shepherds
sing:
Through heaven, through earth,
hosannas ring.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
poem by Akingbehin Daniel Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Soldiers at Lauro
Young are our dead
Like babies they lie
The wombs they blest once
Not healed dry
And yet - too soon
Into each space
A cold earth falls
On colder face.
Quite still they lie
These fresh-cut reeds
Clutched in earth
Like winter seeds
But they will not bloom
When called by spring
To burst with leaf
And blossoming
They sleep on
In silent dust
As crosses rot
And helmets rust.
poem by Spike Milligan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Unleashed
Living in silence for eons,
He's planning the end for mankind
His eyes are ablaze with fury,
Venomous gaze is scorching us all
Feeling the stench of the carnage,
Sanctuary is wiped out and lost
The beast will announce it's arrival,
The moon turns bloodred,
The seas start to boil
Dreams of freedom perish and die
Sewing the seeds of death and decay
Soaring up to the sky, demonic vultures fly
Unleashed at last he is stalking the earth,
Spreading chaos and dismay
The sky is darkening slowly
As he draws forth over the plains
Corroding our hearts with his hatred,
Barren and dead lies the ground
Where he has been
His sign will be seen on his chosen
Fire will fall from the sky
Black is the veil of destruction
The lamb lies dead, the grail is no more
Dreams of freedom perish and die
Sewing the seeds of death and decay
Soaring up to the sky, demonic vultures fly
Unleashed at last he is stalking the earth,
Spreading chaos and dismay
Soaring up to the sky, demonic vultures fly
Unleashed at last he is stalking the earth,
Spreading chaos and dismay
Beware of the gaze of the serpent,
The evil can lead you astray
Feeling the blow of the trumpets,
The sky will fall down and life will decline
Dreams of freedom perish and die
Sewing the seeds of death and decay
Soaring up to the sky, demonic vultures fly
Unleashed at last he is stalking the earth,
Spreading chaos and dismay
song performed by by Zonata
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Brighton Cemetery's very far from us dear Son!
First of December Two thousand ten
Tattooed in our mild hearts with a pickaxe!
Our precious grandson Prabashwara's buried
With another eight Roses in Australia.
The tiny caskets nine in a row
On the altar and above the Virgin Mary's magnanimous Statue stands
With that kind face and I read her conveying Expression!
'I'll look after them well! '
Oh! The Baby Lawn among the innocent tombs
And Earth quietly accepts the new arrivals!
The sky looks so sad like in a funeral.
A Red Rose on each casket with a tear
And they sleep in the mass grave peacefully.
But we're the sinners never get such a proper sleep
Until we go there leaving all the attachments?
*To our loving grandson Prabashwara, May you rest in peace with your unseen friends! One day we visit there if time permits.....and bring you this poem, your poor Grandma would sing a song of our hardship & haven?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dropp It
seeds is
not
making
earth...
earth is making
many seeds...
with a rains...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Last One To Touch Me
If there ever was an angel, then surely you must be one
If there ever was a perfect love when I look at you I see one
If there's heaven on earth, then this must surely be
And I want you to be the last one to touch me
The last thing I remember before I go to sleep
Is the touch of your sweet lips softly kissing me
And I go to sleep athinking how happy you make me
And I want you to be the last one to touch me
And when it's time to lay me down for my eternal sleep
Once more let your fingers softly touch my cheek
If I know that you have touched me, then I can sleep in peace
And I want you to be the last one to touch me
And when the night is over and time will be no more
They say that we shall meet again upon the golden shore
And so when I awaken from my eternal sleep
I want you to be the first one to touch me
I want you to be the first, the last, the only one to touch me
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Seeds with wings, between earth and sky
Seeds with wings, between earth and sky
Fluttering, flying;
Seeds of a lily with blood-red core
Breathing of myrrh and of giroflore:
Where winds drop them there must they lie,
Living or dying.
Some to the garden, some to the wall,
Fluttering, falling;
Some to the river, some to earth:
Those that reach the right soil get birth;
None of the rest have lived at all.—
Whose voice is calling:
'Here is soil for winged seeds that near,
Fluttering, fearing,
Where they shall root and burgeon and spread.
Lacking the heart-room the song lies dead:
Half is the song that reaches the ear,
Half is the hearing '?
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
No Memo From You Did I Receive
What would 'you' prefer?
That I pretend I am not a writer,
With an interest that is expressed.
Or would you prefer I stay within boundaries,
Your mind has restricted to your limitedness?
Or would you prefer,
I reflect more of what you suspect I should be?
And would your suspicions have their development,
Centered from your perceptions?
Either way,
No memo from you did I receive.
And I admit,
Guessing is not what I do best.
And the only tests I 'prefer' to pass,
Are my own.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tonight I Sleep With Mother Earth
Seventy more years must pass,
To plus these ones gone past,
My eyelids, before they may close
Before Mother Earth opens up her core
To take my body in once more,
Before I sleep with Mother Earth.
Before I sleep with Mother Earth,
My castles strewn across the sky
Shall come down to the earth,
And grow up to scrape the sky.
Before I sleep with Mother Earth,
Life shall answer all questions posed,
I shall plaster all precious stones
Around my name, in umeasured fold.
Before I sleep with Mother Earth.
I shall grow tall and strong like a giant,
I shall be elephated from ant to elephant.
Before I sleep with Mother Earth,
All ears that hear must hear,
And those that can't must read,
And those that can't must feed,
Ingest by all means, the words that I speak.
Before I sleep with Mother Earth,
I must sleep with Success,
From that whore, I shall receive suck-sex
A crowned head, I'll not settle for any less.
I shall drink from the brooks of plenty,
I shall autograph the books of many.
Before I sleep with Mother Earth,
All my toils shall be brought to boil,
My labour shall bring forth fruit,
Truth and Life shall birth through me, Poetry
All my impregnations shall get expression,
I shall pour out my soul upon all flesh,
And still erect, I shall come, into Mother Earth.
Then I shall say:
'Seventy more years have gone past,
Many more tears have flushed past,
My eyelids, and now they may close,
As Mother Earth opens up her core,
For the time has come, as I said afore,
Tonight I sleep wiith Mother Earth.'
poem by Joba Akinola
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Seeds Of War
When the seeds of war are sown,
hardly is it ever known
who has planted it
and what for?
Was it about
blood and gore?
When the seeds of war take root
it's hidden reasons make us mute.
Why was it planted
and by whom?
Was its purpose
doom and gloom?
When the seeds of war are grown
never is it ever shown
how it is planted
in men's mind?
How it's made them
all so blind.
When the seeds of war do thrive
many will not be alive.
They'll be planted
in false graves.
These seeds propel
how the world behaves.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
God is at Work...
When winter’s barren twigs
Get clothed by leaves all green,
And buds that blossom forth
To flow’rs that turn to fruits...
When barren bosoms spring
With signs of new offspring,
Which Nature does with ease,
And bliss on earth, they bring...
When human efforts fail
Containing some disease,
Miraculous cures come
To ones that pray to God...
Just trust in Almighty
To get things done on earth;
The Omnipotent God
Is loving, caring Lord.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 10-04-2011
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Your Hatred And Love
I
Prefer
Death to
Your hatred
And I prefer your love
To love of anyone else on earth
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Gone To Seed
“If you plant honesty, you’ll reap trust”
Aye, the seeds of doubt have been planted,
But such doubts are a must,
If wisdom’s to be granted…..
Seeds of valor, seeds of passion,
Seeds of equanimity;
Seeds that suit every fashion,
Of learning and acuity.
Leaders who sow such seeds of doubt,
Are welcome and accounted,
Than those who’d love to flaunt,
Are ones that are so vaunted.
Where honesty is a truthful story,
Tests one’s heart and mind;
Now enough’s been said of this allegory,
Dear readers: this truth you can find!
Copyright © SC
10th July 2007
Mumbai.
poem by Subroto Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!