Marlowe
With eastern banners flaunting in the breeze
Royal processions, sounding fife and gong
And showering jewels on the jostling throng,
March to the tramp of Marlowe's harmonies.
He drained life's brimming goblet to the lees;
He recked not that a peer superb and strong
Would tune great notes to his impassioned song
And top his cannonading lines with ease.
To the wild clash of cymbals we behold
The tragic ending of his youthful life;
The revelry of kisses bought with gold,
The jest and jealous rival and the strife,
A harlot weeping o'er a corpse scarce cold,
A scullion fleeing with a bloody knife.
poem by Arthur Bayldon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Alankar (Decor) -6
I Want To Sing A Song
I want to sing a song
For long my wish on skies..
So high so far so sweet
So sweet my song so makes
And takes on notes me soar
Me soar to moon and stars
To stars and moon my notes
Happy going going
Going godly tuning
Tuning moving scaling
Scaling music tonic
Tonic songful soulful
Soulful spaceward tuneful
Harken, follow would you..
You sing you sing a song
A song so strong to gong
To gong in tune with mine
So mine and yours to sing
To sing the moon and stars
The stars and moon in tune
In tune with us so high
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Hymn Of The Many
God's people sorely were oppressed,
I heard their lamentations long;
I hear their singing, clear and strong,
I see their banners in the West!
The captains shout the battle-cry,
The legions muster in their might;
They turn their faces to the light,
They lift their arms, they testify:
'We sank beneath the Master's thong,
Our chafing chains were ne'er undone;
Now clash your lances in the sun
And bless your banners with a song!
'God bides his time with patient eyes
While tyrants build upon the land;
He lifts his face, he lifts his hand,
And from the stones his temples rise.
'Now Freedom waves her joyous wing
Beyond the foemen's shields of gold.
March forward, singing, for, behold,
The right shall rule while God is king!'
poem by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dedication To Christina G. Rossetti
Songs light as these may sound, though deep and strong
The heart spake through them, scarce should hope to please
Ears tuned to strains of loftier thoughts than throng
Songs light as these.
Yet grace may set their sometime doubt at ease,
Nor need their too rash reverence fear to wrong
The shrine it serves at and the hope it sees.
For childlike loves and laughters thence prolong
Notes that bid enter, fearless as the breeze,
Even to the shrine of holiest-hearted song,
Songs light as these.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Marseillaise
What means this mighty chant, wherein its wail
Of some intolerable woe, grown strong
With sense of more intolerable wrong
Swells to a stern victorious march--a gale
Of vengeful wrath? What mean the faces pale,
The fierce resolve, the ecstatic pangs along
Life's fiery ways, the demon thoughts which throng
The gates of awe, when these wild notes assail
The sleeping of our souls ? Hear ye no more
Than the mad foam of revolution's leaven,
Than a roused people's throne-o'erwhelming tread?
Hark! 'tis man's spirit thundering on the shore
Of iron fate; the tramp of Titans dread,
Sworn to dethrone the Gods unjust from Heaven.
poem by John Todhunter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Romeo and Juliet
I was discouraged, alone in that dale
For life to me was no fairy tale!
My entire childhood I’d been pretending
Of some story with a happy ending
All of that time I’d been so naïve
It was nothing more than make-believe!
But how would I know, thanks to you alone
Magical feelings would prove me wrong?
A miserable life lost its course
When a charming prince appeared on a horse,
Rescued me from worldly strife
I was Cinderella that day of my life
For decades I had been sleeping
Years had I been weeping
Dozing away during harmonious bliss
But, darling, you saved me with a tender kiss
And you took me away as your soon-to-be wife
I was Sleeping Beauty that day of my life
These days are overflowing with laughter
I seem to believe in those 'happily ever afters'
For my Romeo is all I shall ever need
He’s the only book I wish to read
My happiness forever is lovely and fife
I am Juliet everyday of my life
poem by Whitney Albright
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Shade Of Theseus - Ancient Greek Tradition
Know ye not when our dead
From sleep to battle sprung?
-When the Persian charger's tread
On their cowering greensward rung!
When the trampling march of foes
Had crush'd our vines and flowers,
When jewell'd crests arose
Through the holy laurel-bowers,
When banners caught the breeze,
When helms in sunlight shone,
When masts were on the seas,
And spears on Marathon.
There was one, a leader crown'd,
And arm'd for Greece that day;
But the falchions made no sound
On his gleaming war-array.
In the battle's front he stood,
With his tall and shadowy crest;
But the arrows drew no blood
Though their path was through his breast.
When banners caught the breeze,
When helms in sunlight shone,
When masts were on the seas,
And spears on Marathon.
His sword was seen to flash
Where the boldest deeds were done;
But it smote without a clash;
The stroke was heard by none!
His voice was not of those
That swell'd the rolling blast,
And his steps fell hush'd like snows-
'Twas the Shade of Theseus pass'd!
When banners caught the breeze,
When helms in sunlight shone,
When masts were on the seas,
And spears on Marathon.
Far sweeping through the foe,
With a fiery charge he bore;
And the Mede left many a bow
On the sounding ocean-shore.
And the foaming waves grew red,
And the sails were crowded fast,
When the sons of Asia fled,
As the Shade of Theseus pass'd!
When banners caught the breeze,
When helms in sunlight shone,
When masts were on the seas,
And spears on Marathon.
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet 63: Against my love shall be, as I am now
Against my love shall be, as I am now,
With Time's injurious hand crushed and o'erworn;
When hours have drained his blood and filled his brow
With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn
Hath travelled on to age's steepy night,
And all those beauties whereof now he's king
Are vanishing, or vanished out of sight,
Stealing away the treasure of his spring;
For such a time do I now fortify
Against confounding age's cruel knife,
That he shall never cut from memory
My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life.
His beauty shall in these black lines be seen,
And they shall live, and he in them still green.
poem by William Shakespeare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet 63: Against my love shall be as I am now
Against my love shall be as I am now
With Time's injurious hand crushed and o'erworn,
When hours have drained his blood and filled his brow
With lines and wrinkles, when his youthful morn
Hath travelled on to age's steepy night,
And all those beauties whereof now he's king
Are vanishing, or vanished out of sight,
Stealing away the treasure of his spring:
For such a time do I now fortify
Against confounding age's cruel knife,
That he shall never cut from memory
My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life.
His beauty shall in these black lines be seen,
And they shall live, and he in them still green.
poem by William Shakespeare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What Shall I Rhyme With My Life?
shall i rhyme my life with a fife?
nope
or with a fyfe?
nope
or a greiff, rife, slife, streiff, ?
no, no, no.
what about a strife?
definitely not.
i rhyme my life
with my wife
and not with the knife.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Stardust Ease
STARDUST EASE
From sad lamenting tune, night never-ending
to dawn of gladness far from cobweb mist,
life springs, renewing seasons, sunlight sending
as summer's promise shines - once sorely missed.
Where whining wind sighed desolation’s wronging,
strong dreams of gleaming harvest may prepare
for gleaning, silo filled with wondrous longing,
song stirring stardust, ease, must everywhere
doff shadow veils as moonlight wavers. Morning
sweeps doubt away with playful mirth reborn,
agenda struck are mind-grind, muddled mourning,
disharmony, walls artificial worn.
See hand-in-hand hope slough adversity
creating through your goodness, good in me.
25 March 2009
robi03_1875_robi03_0000 SXX_KLX
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Milton
I pace the sounding sea-beach and behold
How the voluminous billows roll and run,
Upheaving and subsiding, while the sun
Shines through their sheeted emerald far unrolled,
And the ninth wave, slow gathering fold by fold
All its loose-flowing garments into one,
Plunges upon the shore, and floods the dun
Pale reach of sands, and changes them to gold.
So in majestic cadence rise and fall
The mighty undulations of thy song,
O sightless bard, England's Mæonides!
And ever and anon, high over all
Uplifted, a ninth wave superb and strong,
Floods all the soul with its melodious seas.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Army of the Rear
I listened through the music and the sounds of revelry,
And all the hollow noises of that year of Jubilee;
I heard beyond the music and beyond the local cheer,
The steady tramp of thousands that were marching in the rear.
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
They seem to shake the air,
Those never-ceasing footsteps of the outcasts in the rear.
I heard defiance ringing from the men of rags and dirt,
I heard wan woman singing that sad “Song of the Shirt”,
And o’er the sounds of menace and moaning low and drear,
I heard the steady tramping of their feet along the rear.
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
Vibrating in the air —
They’re swelling fast, those footsteps of the Army of the Rear!
I hate the wrongs I read about, I hate the wrongs I see!
The tramping of that army sounds as music unto me!
A music that is terrible, that frights the anxious ear,
Is beaten from the weary feet that tramp along the rear.
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
In dogged, grim despair —
They have a goal, those footsteps of the Army of the Rear!
I looked upon the nobles, with their lineage so old;
I looked upon their mansions, on their acres and their gold,
I saw their women radiant in jewelled robes appear,
And then I joined the army of the outcasts in the rear.
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
We’ll show what Want can dare,
My brothers and my sisters of the Army of the Rear!
I looked upon the mass of poor, in filthy alleys pent;
And on rich men’s Edens, that are built on grinding rent;
I looked o’er London’s miles of slums — I saw the horrors there,
And swore to die a soldier of the Army of the Rear.
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
I’ve sworn to do and dare,
I’ve sworn to die a soldier of the Army of the Rear!
“They’re brutes,” so say the wealthy, “and by steel must be dismayed” —
Be brutes among us, nobles, they are brutes that ye have made;
We want what God hath given us, we want our portion here,
And that is why we’re marching — and we’ll march beyond the rear!
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
Awake and have a care,
Ye proud and haughty spurners of the wretches in the rear.
We’ll nurse our wrongs to strengthen us, our hate that it may grow,
For, outcast from society, society’s our foe.
Beware! who grind out human flesh, for human life is dear!
There’s menace in the marching of the Army of the Rear.
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
There’s danger in despair,
There’s danger in the marching of the Army of the Rear!
The wealthy care not for our wants, nor for the pangs we feel;
Our hands have clutched in vain for bread, and now they clutch for steel!
Come, men of rags and hunger, come! There’s work for heroes here!
There’s room still in the vanguard of the Army of the Rear!
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
O men of want and care!
There’s glory in the vanguard of the Army of the Rear!
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lay Down Your Weary Tune
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
Struck by the sounds before the sun,
I knew the night had gone.
The morning breeze like a bugle blew
Against the drums of dawn.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
The ocean wild like an organ played,
The seaweeds wove its strands.
The crashin waves like cymbals clashed
Against the rocks and sands.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
I stood unwound beneath the skies
And clouds unbound by laws.
The cryin rain like a trumpet sang
And asked for no applause.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
The last of leaves fell from the trees
And clung to a new loves breast.
The branches bare like a banjo played
To the winds that listened best.
I gazed down in the rivers mirror
And watched its winding strum.
The water smooth ran like a hymn
And like a harp did hum.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Flower Basket
Bring to me the flowers of Spring
In a woven straw basket brown
Pretty Little Maids all in a row
Petal's strewn 'cross the town
Oh so delightful in the Springtime
Resplendent in the Summer air
A garden basket of sweet scented blooms
Of The Maiden's Fair
Most beautiful to all breath-taking
Their aroma's splash the breeze
Velvet soft-like petals abloom
In The Secret Garden With Ease
They living out their complete prime
Beautifying Others Life
Their fragrance emulating upon a zephr
Numbing all of this worlds strife
Long before the rustic fall comes calling
With It's Oft' Northern Breeze
Chasing away the flowers and the green
Ending the blooms sweet life
With Ice Cold Freeze
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Million Murders
Smooth, soft, silk robes of royalty—
Sparkling, shining jewels of majesty—
Grand and great the riches uncoil—
Stones and steel rising from soil.
The coloured peoples gaping in envy
wishing they could be the whites in jealousy:
Oh, if only we had such beautiful buildings
Oh, if only our country was as inspiring.
Yet, in the ground, a buried irony—
For azalea red runs blood and ruby—
For beneath the stoic, impassioned gargoyles—
Behold! The tears of those who toiled.
Their monuments built with Asian antimony—
Their statues and artifacts, African ivory—
Their advanced machines by Eastern oil—
A thousand thefts, a people despoiled.
Smooth, soft, silk robes of royalty—
Sparkling, shining jewels of majesty—
Grand and great the riches uncoil—
Bones and steel rising from soil.
poem by Ong Kar Jin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
From Afar
Far away on the soft sands of dreams
You peer out your rainy window
I am the exiled poet
You are the lonely words of sanity
Banners have faded
Revelry replaced with stucco suburbs
The sea is still wild
Prayer stretches our being
Hope a wild fire burning conformity
Convention is the replacement of love
Validation from little groups
The accepted norm rules your heart
Wicked guards of the banal
You refuse to come to me
I cannot act parts that are not me
My road is crude
You want to change me
I feel you
I like a wet bed
You know who you are
You're reading this now
Call me when you get a pedicure
You love me from afar
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Untitled
Sure/go to cali/have fun/bring me back/a silver gun/
let me shoot/a hole in the sky/give the moon/another
eye/so I can see/deep inside/in the place/where all
time hides/where people go/after their gone/and love
without love/still marches on/to the tune of a different song/
to the tune of a different song/miss me when your gone/
to the tune of a different song
you left your heart/in san francisco/getting down at the
disco/when she walked up/too your hand/danced you
down/danced you down/when you land/land on me/you see me/
I'm off the wall/against the wall/I can't call/you can't hear/above the
noise/above the sound/she dances you up/she dances you down/
I grab my coat/and then I'm gone/ to the tune of a different song/
to the tune of a different song/miss me when I'm gone/to the tune
of a different song
the holiday covered in snow/now you're back/where'd you go? /
you got a number/she give you her's/was it hot/ what've you got/
did she take your breath away/what have you got to say/did she take your
breath away/on the beach/in the sun/on the sand/on the run/ in the heat/
in the cold/what have you got left to hold/she took your hand/but now she's gone/
and here I stand/life goes on/to the tune of a different song/to the tune of a different
song/miss me when I'm gone/to the tune of a different song
Spring Song
A BLUE-BELL springs upon the ledge,
A lark sits singing in the hedge;
Sweet perfumes scent the balmy air,
And life is brimming everywhere.
What lark and breeze and bluebird sing,
Is Spring, Spring, Spring!
No more the air is sharp and cold;
The planter wends across the wold,
And, glad, beneath the shining sky
We wander forth, my love and I.
And ever in our hearts doth ring
This song of Spring, Spring!
For life is life and love is love,
'Twixt maid and man or dove and dove.
Life may be short, life may be long,
But love will come, and to its song
Shall this refrain for ever cling
Of Spring, Spring, Spring!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It Was An Icy Winter Afternoon (Roundelay)
It was an icy winter afternoon
when I heard a bird crooning a cheery tune
and suddenly although feeling quite old
its song came as barrier against the cold.
I saw branches of naked stripped trees
like skeletons rocking in the strong breeze
while quite happily that bird sang quite bold,
its song came as barrier against the cold.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Miracle Of Life In Conception
behold the miracle the wonder
captured 'a pure breath inspired'
walking radiant footsteps upon
surface of blue green clay ball
energies infused in life breath
'clayed whispered of the mind'
open to potential in life energy
open to beauty in noble hearts
inspiring warming heating cold
stone statue hearts into miracle
reborn life changes new energies
behind eyelashes opening wide
in clear vision sung in life song
singing harmonies in star crystal
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Inspired by and quoted lines from the poem ‘Energies’ by Miroslava Odalovic.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!