Gray-Eyed King
Glory to you, inescapable pain!
The gray-eyed king died yesterday.
The autumn evening was sultry and red,
My husband returned and quietly said:
'You know, they brought him back from the hunt,
They found his corpse by the old oak tree.
I pity the queen. He was so young!..
In just one night her hair turned white.'
He found his pipe on the mantelpiece
And went out to his nighttime shift.
I'll go and wake my daughter now,
I'll look into her little gray eyes.
While outside the rustling poplars say:
'Your king is no longer upon this earth…'
Another translation.
By Yevgeny Bonver:
The Grey-Eyed King
Hail! Hail to thee, o, immovable pain!
The young grey-eyed king had been yesterday slain.
This autumnal evening was stuffy and red.
My husband, returning, had quietly said,
'He'd left for his hunting; they carried him home;
They'd found him under the old oak's dome.
I pity the queen. He, so young, past away!...
During one night her black hair turned to grey.'
He found his pipe on a warm fire-place,
And quietly left for his usual race.
Now my daughter will wake up and rise --
Mother will look in her dear grey eyes...
And poplars by windows rustle as sing,
'Never again will you see your young king...'
poem by Anna Akhmatova
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
They Were In Love
There was a girl
and a boy
they were so cuie
and in love
they spent there days
and there nights
always in each others sight
they were in love
it came one day
they wanted to wed
there parents said
to go ahead
they had the wedding
and it was grand
they had a nice band
o how did they love
the king saw the girl
and wanted her as wife
with all his life
she was a beauty
he sent for her husband
he was needed for war
he said no more
I shall go
not much later
the king sent a letter
i know this is no better
your husband is dead
she was heart broken
she wept
why couldn’t she kept
her dear husband
all she owed
was taken away
she could not pay
what could she do
the king comforted her
he would make her queen
she was ever lean
she was a beauty
with the baby
on the way
what could she say
but yah
her baby boy was born
not soon after
all there was laughter
but she was sad
her husband returned
she cried with joy
and showed there baby boy
they were in love
but alas he found
she had wed another
and it was his brother
how angry he was
he went to the king
and draw his sword
ooo dear lord
he lost
he was be headed
going agents the king
no one did sing
he’s dead
knowing she betrayed
her dear love
she let go of her dove
she was in love
she took her knife
from under her gown
with no frown
drove it though her heart
the next day
she was found
blood all over her gown
she’s dead
the chamber maids
carried her out
with a shout
she’s dead
in her belly
was a baby
just maybe
it could o lived
in her death
she found him
every thing was mend
they were in love
so they set off
to kill there son
it quite a run
and the king
(its a baled)
poem by Lexxiey Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Prince Fell For The Fair Maiden…
An allegorical ballad
Love bore the tale,
The black-eyed belle.
The prince loved her,
Despite the spell.
He married her,
Became a king.
The girl’s too shy
To be a queen.
She dreamed of dales,
Of sweet carnations.
A bird in her soul –
Her consolation!
The king’s cruel mum
And sisters said:
“We’ve brought you up,
Our dear lad! ”
Then the ocean of pains,
Of quarrels and worries.
The queen grows stubborn,
When the king dies…
The court’s alarmed,
The palace dives in vice,
The skies assault the earth,
Women cry out their eyes.
The old hag raged,
Was absorbed in wrath,
Couldn’t cast a spell,
And met her death.
The widow grew more fearless,
No longer was she a slave.
She could display her smartness,
And the court was filled with awe.
The court prospered and flourished,
Ended the ill-fated years,
The young queen loved her homeland,
That love made her shed tears.
And the spark of beauty – the love
Was born again… it sparked, it flamed,
The knight adored the young queen,
Faithful to her he remained.
Many know that story,
The ballad of glory:
The old tricks and shams
Repeat themselves.
Turned into a brave woman
The humble lass in the past...
She hoisted like sails
Her mourning dress.
The virtue was rewarded… at last.
29.O1.2OO2.
Translated from Georgian
poem by Janri Gogeshvili
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The King of Erin's Daughter
THE King of Erin's Daughter had wind-blown hair and bright,
The King of Erin's Daughter, her eyes were like the sea;
(O Rose of all the roses, have you forgotten quite
The story of the days of old that once you told to me?)
The King of Erin's Daughter went up the mountain side
And who but she was singing as she went upon her way,
'O somewhere waits a King's Son and I shall be his bride,
And tall he is and fair he is and none shall say him nay.'
The King of Erin's Daughter–O fair was she and sweet–
Went laughing up the mountain without a look behind
Till on the lofty summit that lay beneath her feet
She found a King's Son waiting there, his brows with poppies twined.
O tall was he and fair was he. He looked into her face
And whispered in her ear a word un-named of mortal breath
And very still she rested, clasped close in his embrace,
The King of Erin's Daughter, for the bridegroom's name was Death.
poem by Norah M. Holland
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Some Mother's Young Daughter
In the quiet alleyway in the dim moonlight
Some mother's young daughter she died over-night
From a drug overdose friendless and alone
Found in a disused factory doorway cold and lifeless as a stone.
She was only nineteen so young for one to die
When the cold winds of Winter blew across the darkened sky
With hardly any shelter to shield her from the cold
Some are born to die young some die gray and old.
Some broken hearted mother is in tears today
For her beautiful daughter who died in such a tragic way
The baby she gave birth to who suckled from her breast
'Tis not her fault she died in this way for her she did her best.
Some mother's young daughter in a morgue today
In a disused factory doorway she died where she lay
Life for her may have been different had she not kept bad company
But easily said on hindsight how things might have been for such as she.
Some mother's young daughter is beyond all care
With the gleam of youth still in her golden hair
In a dimly lit alleyway in the cold night air
She did not return from the brink of despair.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Summers Gone
Crack and break, lifes big mistake,
Im feeling it too, theres no way home.
The summers gone,
The summers gone away.
Back down to earth, a conscience burst,
Im feeling it too, just slipped away.
The summers gone,
The love has gone,
The sun has gone away,
Away
Its turned to grey, just burned away,
A moment too soon, weve turned to grey...
Just like yesterday,
Its turned to black and white.
Cold as stone, no contact known
Youre feeling it too, as thoughts decay.
The summers gone, the colours gone,
The sun has gone away
Its turned to grey, just burned away,
A moment too soon, weve turned to grey,
Just like yesterday,
Its turned to black and white.
Oh, youre thinking back, youre going back to places that youve been,
Where days could last forever, but you can only dream,
Oh, were going back Im looking back to places that weve seen,
Moments that have been, places we can dream.
Crash and break, lifes big mistake,
Youre feeling it too, just slipped away.
The love has gone,
The summers gone away.
Its turned to grey, just burned away,
A moment too soon, weve turned to grey,
Just like yesterday, yesterday
Its turned to grey, just burned away,
A moment too soon, weve turned to grey,
Just like yesterday, yesterday...
song performed by by Feeder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
King
KING
' Martin Luther King
and that he was
a man of great moral
a leader because he led by example
KING
what makes a man a king
his determination to lead his people
his commitment, his drive
KING
a father
a husband
a friend
a Leader
For whom left his mark as KING
Man of the century to many who knew his pain
his struggle
Name another man who put his life in the teeth if death for a cause more than King
and for that same reason,
That Farther, Husband, Friend and Leader
Remains most of all
KING'
By: Kottrell Johnson
poem by Kottrell Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To wander, missing the goal
The king had a halt to pass out the night.
The charioteer had to guard the horse
For which he must not sleep through out the night.
The king suggested thinking on something.
The king woke up a few hours later and
Found him awake thinking about something.
Questioned, he told he was counting the stars.
Complimenting him, the king went to sleep.
The king woke up after a few hours and
Found him awake with something in mind.
Asked, he said that he was watching the clouds.
Patting on his back, the king went to sleep.
The king woke up in the early hour and
Found him still awake and felt quite assured.
‘I was thinking if the horse left itself
Or someone chased it.', he said candidly.
He took full efforts not to fall asleep
And in the process he missed the purpose.
Devotion to the rites and the rituals
Will tie you to the religion, not the God.
28.07.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The King's Daughter
WE WERE ten maidens in the green corn,
Small red leaves in the mill-water:
Fairer maidens never were born,
Apples of gold for the king’s daughter.
We were ten maidens by a well-head,
Small white birds in the mill-water:
Sweeter maidens never were wed,
Rings of red for the king’s daughter.
The first to spin, the second to sing,
Seeds of wheat in the mill-water;
The third may was a goodly thing,
White bread and brown for the king’s daughter.
The fourth to sew and the fifth to play,
Fair green weed in the mill-water;
The sixth may was a goodly may,
White wine and red for the king’s daughter.
The seventh to woo, the eighth to wed,
Fair thin reeds in the mill-water;
The ninth had gold work on her head,
Honey in the comb for the king’s daughter.
The ninth had gold work round her hair,
Fallen flowers in the mill-water;
The tenth may was goodly and fair,
Golden gloves for the king’s daughter.
We were ten maidens in a field green,
Fallen fruit in the mill-water;
Fairer maidens never have been,
Golden sleeves for the king’s daughter.
By there comes the king’s young son,
A little wind in the mill-water;
“Out of ten maidens ye’ll grant me one,”
A crown of red for the king’s daughter.
“Out of ten mays ye’ll give me the best,”
A little rain in the mill-water;
A bed of yellow straw for all the rest,
A bed of gold for the king’s daughter.
He’s ta’en out the goodliest,
Rain that rains in the mill-water;
A comb of yellow shell for all the rest,
A comb of gold for the king’s daughter.
He’s made her bed to the goodliest,
Wind and hail in the mill-water;
A grass girdle for all the rest,
A girdle of arms for the king’s daughter.
He’s set his heart to the goodliest,
Snow that snows in the mill-water;
Nine little kisses for all the rest,
An hundredfold for the king’s daughter.
He’s ta’en his leave at the goodliest,
Broken boats in the mill-water;
Golden gifts for all the rest,
Sorrow of heart for the king’s daughter.
“Ye’ll make a grave for my fair body,”
Running rain in the mill-water;
“And ye’ll streek my brother at the side of me,”
The pains of hell for the king’s daughter.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
King Of The Night Time World
Ken fowley, michael anthony, paul stanley, bob ezrin
Its so sad, livin at home
Far from the city and the midnight fun
Its so bad, goin to school
So far from me and the dirty things that we do
Im the king of the night time world
And youre my headlight queen
Im the king of the night time world
Come live your secret dream
Its so fine, lovin with ease
Far from the house and the family fights
Its so fine, bein with you
Bein with me makes everything alright
Im the king of the night time world
And youre my headlight queen
Im the king of the night time world
Come live your secret dream, alright
Its so sad, youre not content
Far from the music and the neon glow
Aint you glad we got the time
Far from our folks, theyll never ever know
Im the king of the night time world
And youre my headlight queen
Im the king of the night time world
Come live your secret dream
Im the king, Im the king, Im the king, Im the king
Im the king, Im the king, Im the king, Im the king
Im the king of the night time world
And youre my headlight queen
Im the king of the night time world
Come live your secret dream
Im the king of the night time world
And youre my headlight queen
Im the king of the night time world
Come live your secret dream
Im the king of the night time world
And youre my headlight queen
Im the king of the night time world
Come live your secret dream
Im the king of the night time world
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
If I Were King
I often wish I were a King,
And then I could do anything.
If only I were King of Spain,
I'd take my hat off in the rain.
If only I were King of France,
I wouldn't brush my hair for aunts.
I think, if I were King of Greece,
I'd push things off the mantelpiece.
If I were King of Norroway,
I'd ask an elephant to stay.
If I were King of Babylon,
I'd leave my button gloves undone.
If I were King of Timbuctoo,
I'd think of lovely things to do.
If I were King of anything,
I'd tell the soldiers, "I'm the King!"
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Grey-eyed mabel
I gazed on orbs of flashing black;
I met the glow of hazel light;
I marked the hue of laughing blue,
That sparkled in the festive night.
But none could fling a lasting spell
To hold me with unchanging power--
The chains they cast were never fast
Beyond the gay and fleeting hour--
Till Grey-eyed Mabel's gentle glance,
With blushing sense and beauty rife,
Bade my soul cry with burning sigh,
'I'm thine, and only thine, for life.'
Black, blue, and hazel stars have set,
But Mabel's grey eyes lead me yet.
What was it in sweet Mabel's eyes
That told me what no others told,
That roused the dull, that pleased the wise,
That charmed the young and cheered the old?
What was it held my world-worn breast
In holy thrall--unknown before?
What was it those grey eyes expressed
That made me worship and adore?
It was the pure and tender ray
That filled those eyes in joy or woe;
It was the beam that could not play
Without the fountain stream below;
It was the beam of simple truth,
Of Woman's faith and trusting Youth.
Those soft, grey eyes were watched by mine
With earnest, deep, and secret prayer;
I knew, I felt, my earthly shrine
Was found and fixed for ever--there.
I poured my heart one moonlit night
Into sweet Mabel's listening ear;
Our mutual vow, from then till now,
Bound each to each--fond, firm, and dear.
Our boys and girls are growing round,
And all give promise, brave and fair,
But one, young cherub form is found
First in my love, my hope, my care.
And why?--ah! why? My soul replies,
'She has dear Mabel's soft, grey eyes.'
poem by Eliza Cook
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The King Of Glory
Here comes the king of glory
Hail him
For he is the king of glory
His life a higher flame
What belongs to him
Does he claim
In his name
Do evil tame
He has no limitations
Beyond your expectation
He walks in the clouds
In him do the heathen
Get inspiration
Watch the birds swing
Hear the birds sing
Here comes the king of glory
Hail him
For he is the king of glory
poem by Matt Ancient
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
King For A Day
Everyones creeping up to the money god,
Putting tongues where they didnt ought to be.
On stepping stones of human hearts and souls,
Into the land of nothing for free.
Well the way that were living,
Is all take and no giving,
Theres nothing to believe in,
The loudest mouth will hail the new found way,
To be king for a day.
Everyones licking up to the new king pin,
Trying to get way up with a smile.
Sing for your supper boy and jump to a finger click,
Aint my way of living in style.
cause the ladder gets longer,
And ambition gets stronger,
I cant satisfy the hunger,
That bad old moon has got you in its sway,
To be king for a day.
Youre only here once so you got to get it right.
(no time to fuss and fight.)
cause life dont mean much if measured out with someone elses plight.
(in time youll see the light.)
cause the way that were living,
Is all take and no giving,
Theres nothing to believe in,
The loudest mouth will hail the new found way,
To be king for a day.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Pickpocket
He found the King's wallet on a roadside
But it was empty and only the Queen's photograph remained.
He decided to return the wallet to the King without any failure.
What a pity?
He was sentenced to the life-imprisonment
As the King claimed all his money were there.
(I dedicate this poem to the poetess Tranquil.Ocean in gratitude.)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Land of the Exile
Mother, the light has grown grey in the sky; I do not know what
the time is.
There is no fun in my play, so I have come to you. It is
Saturday, our holiday.
Leave off your work, mother; sit here by the window and tell
me where the desert of Tepantar in the fairy tale is.
The shadow of the rains has covered the day from end to end.
The fierce lightning is scratching the sky with its nails.
When the clouds rumble and it thunders, I love to be afraid
in my heart and cling to you.
When the heavy rain patters for hours on the bamboo leaves,
and our windows shake and rattle at the gusts of wind, I like to
sit alone in the room, mother, with you, and hear you talk about
the desert of Tepantar in the fairy tale.
Where is it, mother, on the shore of what sea, at the foot of
what hills, in the kingdom of what king?
There are no hedges there to mark the fields, no footpath
across it by which the villagers reach their village in the
evening, or the woman who gathers dry sticks in the forest can
bring her load to the market. With patches of yellow grass in the
sand and only one tree where the pair of wise old birds have their
nest, lies the desert of Tepantar.
I can imagine how, on just such a cloudy day, the young son
of the king is riding alone on a grey horse through the desert, in
search of the princess who lies imprisoned in the giant's palace
across that unknown water.
When the haze of the rain comes down in the distant sky, and
lightning starts up like a sudden fit of pain, does he remember his
unhappy mother, abandoned by the king, sweeping the cow-stall and
wiping her eyes, while he rides through the desert of Tepantar in
the fairy tale?
See, mother, it is almost dark before the day is over, and
thee are no travellers yonder on the village road.
The shepherd boy has gone home early from the pasture, and men
have left their fields to sit on mats under the eaves of their
huts, watching the scowling clouds.
Mother, I have left all my books on the shelf-do not ask me
to do my lessons now.
When I grow up and am bid like my father, I shall learn all
that must be learnt.
But just for today, tell me, mother, where the desert of
Tepantar in the fairy tale is.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bible Stories: Esther (Part II)
The king forgot what Vashti did
And how he had condemned her act;
As planned, he sought to choose a queen
Anew from beautiful virgins!
Mordecai reared a girl, Esther-
A young woman of great beauty.
The daughter of Aminadab,
Brother of his own dear father!
Gai - eunuch in-charge of women,
Had liked Esther specially as
She was the one most favorite!
Esther did not reveal her past
Nor her antecedents to him.
She did as per Gai’s instructions
And lived in the fear of the Lord.
All women were cared for one year,
Before they’re sent to see the king;
Six months’ of oil of myrrh treatment,
Six months’ of perfumes, cosmetics;
And they could go again only
If the king summoned them once more.
It was the turn of Esther then
To go and meet the king one day;
She was the most favored of all
And did what Mordecai told her;
The king fell in love with Esther!
He married her and crowned her queen
In a seven-days’ wine party.
He stopped taking taxes thereaft!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hes The King
(harold faltermeyer/ gernot rothenbach)
Producers for bonnie: harold faltermeyer and gernot rothenbach
Hes seen all the changes
been going up and down
Had to rearrange it
But never lost his crown
Never was afraid of
Playing his last round
He is, he is the king
Look into his face
It never told you lies
Falling down from grace
Has been more than twice
But theres always one thing
You should realise
He is, he is the king
He is the king
No one else will be around
He is the king
Sometimes lost but now hes found
Without losing all, you wont touch sacred ground
He is, he is the king
He is the king
Loving her was easy,
They were day and night
Trying to release her
Was a never ending fight
He had only one chance
Playing for her life
He is, he is the king
But theres always one thing
You should realise
He is, he is the king
He is the king
No one else will be around
He is the king
Sometimes lost but now hes found
Without losing all, you wont touch sacred ground
He is, he is the king
He is the king
No one else will be around
He is the king
Sometimes lost but now hes found
Without losing all, you wont touch sacred ground, yeah
He is, he is the king
He is the king
song performed by by Bonnie Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The King’s Beard
There lived a king with beard so long
And scalp with scarcely hair!
He used a comb and sang a song
And groomed it with great care.
The king was proud of his long beard
That made him look so wise!
The queen, his wife knew he looked weird
And cursed him for its size!
The queen was therefore always sad;
His lip got hid by hair!
But one day, she was rather glad;
She told him, she couldn’t bear!
One day, the king slept while he read
A book that was folklore!
He had a dream asleep in bed;
“His beard had grown some more! ”
A burning candle-stick fell down
And lit the curtain-blind;
His beard had caught the fire sown!
The king was off his mind!
His nose smelt smoke: he woke in fright;
His beard was all aflame!
He shaved the stubs of hair by night
And took on him all blame!
The next day when the people saw
The king, they couldn’t believe
Their eyes and gazed at him with awe!
“Could eyes of dawn deceive? ”
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hark! The Herald Angels Sing
Hark! the herald angels sing,
Glory, glory to, glory to,
The new born King...
Glory, glory, glory, glory, glory...
Glory to the new born King
Hark! the herald angels sing, Glory to the new born King
Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled
Joyful all ye nations rise, join the triumph of the skies
With angelic host proclaim, Christ is born in Bethlehem
Hark! the herald angels sing, Glory to the new born King
Glory, glory, glory, (oh yeah) glory, glory
Glory to the new born King
Glory (glory) glory, (yeah) glory, glory...
Glory...
Hark! the herald angels sing,
Glory... Glory...
Hail! the heaven-born Prince of Peace; Hail the son of Righteousness
Light and life to all He brings, risen with healing in His wings
Mild He lays His glory by, born that man, no more may die
Born to raise the sons of earth, born to give them second birth
Hark! the herald angels sing, Glory to the new born...
[Ad Libs]
song performed by by Jessica Simpson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
For Christmas Day, Hark! the Herald Angels Sing
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King,
Peace on earth and mercy mild,
God and sinner reconcil'd.
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King.
Joyful all ye nations rise,
Join the triumph of the skies,
With the angelic host proclaim,
Christ is born in Bethlehem.
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King.
Christ by highest Heaven ador'd,
Christ the everlasting Lord!
Late in time behold him come,
Offspring of a virgin's womb.
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King.
Veiled in flesh the Godhead see,
Hail, the incarnate Deity,
Pleased as Man with man to dwell,
Jesus our Immanuel!
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King.
Hail the Heaven-born Prince of Peace!
Hail the Sun of Righteousness!
Light and life to all he brings,
Risen with healing in his wings.
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King.
Mild he lays his glory by,
Born that man no more may die,
Born to raise the sons of earth,
Born to give them second birth.
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King.
poem by Martin Madan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!