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The Forgotten

He shone in the senate, the camp, and the grove,
The mirror of manhood, the darling of love.
He fought for his country, the star of the brave,
And died for it’s weal when to die was to save.

And Wisdom and Valour long over him wept,
And Beauty, for ages, strewed flowers where he slept.

And the bards of the people inwrought with their lays
The light of his glory, the sound of his praise.

But afar in the foreworld have faded their strains,
And now of his being what record remains?

Within a lone valley a tomb crumbles fast,
And the name of the Sleeper is lost in the past

poem by Charles Harpur
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Dialogue

The Lone Star: Why are you looking at me?
Me: : For a soulful company

The Lone Star: I am so above, you are far below
Me: : My heart yearns for a distant fellow

The Lone Star: Do I not blink too often!
Me: : My pulse beats too fast, O listen!

The Lone Star: I am a citizen of a cold universe
Me: : My heart warms for you and will never lapse

The Lone Star: I float alone like a wanderer
Me: : I can touch your reflection on a dew's sphere

The Lone Star: You miss me when there is a day's light
Me: : You sleep so quiet in depth of a day's bright

The Lone Star: For ages lonely I am here
Me: : When I shall leave my place, I will be right there

Shamik Bose 6.6.2010 Calcutta

poem by Shamik Bose
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How Oft Has the Benshee Cried

How oft has the Benshee cried,
How oft has death untied
Bright links that Glory wove,
Sweet bonds entwined by Love.
Peace to each manly soul that sleepeth;
Rest to each faithful eye that weepeth;
Long may the fair and brave,
Sigh o'er the hero's grave.

We're fallen upon gloomy days!
Star after star decays.
Every bright name, that shed
Light o'er the land, is fled.
Dark falls the tear of him who mourneth
Lost joy, or hope that ne'er returneth:
But brightly flows the tear,
Wept o'er a hero's bier.

Quench'd are our beacon lights --
Thou, of the Hundred Fights!
Thou, on whose burning tongue
Truth, peace, and freedom hung!
Both mute, -- but long as valour shineth,
Or mercy's soul at war repineth,
So long shall Erin's pride
Tell how they lived and died.

poem by Thomas Moore
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Oh Mr Yeats

Oh Yeats you wrote of this terrible beauty
And in your great poem you glorified death
But it's been proved that even suicide cases
At their last moment will struggle for breath.

How can you serve your Country by dying for it?
To me that's just a heroic suicide
Perhaps Ireland's greatest was Daniel O Connell
And it was of natural causes that he died.

Those men who led the nineteen sixteen rising
Were brave that from them can't be took away
They died because they fought for love of Ireland
But life for love too big a price to pay.

And tell me what is fame and what is glory?
So many people only live for fame
In hope that after death they'll be remembered
And that others will pay homage to their name.

Oh Mr Yeats you said in death there's beauty
But I cannot agree with what you've said
I would take wealth and fame whilst I'm still living
For such will be useless to me when I'm dead.

poem by Francis Duggan
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ghosts of memory (Lyrics)

A place of rest I've tried to find
Aching in my heart, chaos in my mind
This place is poison to my soul
Can't take much more, I'm losing control

Faded perfume in a room
Once a sanctuary, now simply a tomb
And it is in this tomb I lie
Dried flowers pressed in pages of faded romance died

And I'm haunted by ghosts of memory
Taunted by promises
What could have been?
Haunted, by ghosts of memory
Taunted by promises
Please set me free

Roses blooming in hellfire
Prisoner of the past and my heart's dark desire
Phantom love that still holds on
My dreams do not remember, that you are gone

Just like the melting snow in spring
It couldn't last, that's true of many things
In the emerald sea I'll lie
Dried flowers pressed in pages of faded romance died

poem by Satan's Sibling
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Mad The Swine (b-side Of Headlong)

I've been there before
A long time ago
But this time I wear no sandals
Ages past I gave all you people
Food and water
Three feet tall, so very small
I'm no trouble
I bring thunder, lightening
Sun and the rain
For all the people in the land
A message of love
I bring you from above
All you children gather around
Come join your hands and sing along
They call me mad the swine
I guess I'm mad the swine
I've come to save you
Save you
Mad the swine
Mad the swine
So all you people gather around
Hold out your hands and praise the lord
I walk upon the water
Just as before
I help the meek and the mild
The believers and the blind
And all the creatures great and small
Let me take you to the river
Without a fall
Then one day you'll realise
You're all the same within his eyes
That's all I've got to say
Just like before
They call me mad the swine
Mad the swine
Come to save you
Save you
Mad the swine
Mad the swine
So all you people gather around
Hold out your hands and praise the lord
All you people around
Hold out your hands and praise the lord
Don't ever fail me
Mad the swine
Mad the swine
I've come to save you
Save you
Mad the swine
Mad the swine
All you people gather around
Hold out your hands and praise the lord
Hands and praise the lord
Praise the lord

song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mad The Swine

Words and music by freddie mercury
Been here before a long time ago
But this time I wear no sandals
Ages past I gave all you people
Food and water
Three feet tall so very small Im no trouble
I bring thunder lightning sun and the rain
For all the people in the land
A message of love
I bring you from up above
All good children gather around
Come join your hands and sing along
They call me mad the swine
I guess Im mad the swine
Ive come to save you save you
Mad the swine
Mad the swine
So all you people gather around
Hold out your hands and praise the lord
I woke up on the water just as before
Ill help the meek and the mild and believers and the blind
And all the creatures great and small
Let me take you to the river without a ford
Oh and then one day you realise
Youre all the same weve been in life
All Ive come to say just like before
They call me mad the swine
Im mad the swine
Ive come to save you save you
Mad the swine
Mad the swine
So all you people gather around
Hold out your hands and praise the lord
Ooh
Oh now
So all you people gather around
Hold out your hands and praise the lord
Dont ever fail me
Mad the swine
Mad the swine
Ive come to save you save you
Oh now
Mad the swine
Mad the swine
So all you people gather around
Hold out your hands and praise the lord
Hands and praise the lord
Praise the lord
Ill get down on my knees and praise the lord

song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I had a cat and my lovely cat was ill

I had a cat and my lovely cat was ill
It was admitted in hospital for treatment,
Previous day it fought with a cobra to kill,
The cobra suddenly escaped to save but died,
It moves around my house to kill the snakes,
And it is just like a tiger and guards my house,
My children always play with it and feed it cakes,
Alas! why is it not recovered but died?
Dead body of my cat is put on sofa and all wept,
Why, pretty thing! could you not live with us all?
One by one all kissed it and sadly said it has slept,
If it is not seen at home tiger, tiger we used to call,
Alas1 with a bur-i-al ceremony in a grave it is kept,
All wept and wept and said, what a sweet fall!

poem by INDIA Mazid S Kazi
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Hang On

Hang on
When all hope is gone
And where light had shone
You are lost in the dark.
When fear flies high above the skylark.
As the weakness of a trembling heart
Leaves you in the lost and found.
You won't have to make a sound.
Hang on
I'm coming round.
Hang on
When those sad songs fill your head
When distant dreams swing by a thread.
Believe me
There is light
And I'll rescue you in style
When stars and moon invite
The brave to raise a smile.
Your empty heart
I will fill with sonnet sweet.
Leading you to peaceful meadow
Flowers at your feet.
Hang on my darling,
And I'll be there
In one shared heartbeat.
My love, I swear.

poem by Kevin East
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The Mirror Struggled

The mirror struggled; reflecting beauty such as hers
Prescribed a glory in the challenge – a fairytale
Or such as like! To shimmer back hypnotic hues
From auras of her skin – how do mirrors cope?
Hoary tales of pretty adolescent buds
Could never hope to match the tomes of dreamy
Pulchritude apprising us of such a belle as she.

The mirror shone; and as it worked itself, a moment –
Did it overlook the hidden melancholy?
Were melting eyes bedewed–? Florid lips imbued
With mournfulness? The hindrance of the silver glass!
Oh! to seek – to know the meaning of the sorrow!
She (with tearful hair, an image out of heaven)
Never opened up her heart. The mirror struggled.

Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009

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mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Through The Valley

(After James Thomson)
As I came through the Valley of Despair,
As I came through the valley, onmy sight,
More awful that the darkness of the night,
Shone glimpses of a Past that had been fair,
And memories of eyes that used to smile,
And wafts of perfume from a vanished isle,
As I came through the valley.

As I came through the valley I could see,
As I came through the valley, fair and far,
As drowning men look up and see a star,
The fading shore of my lost Used-to-be;
And like an arrow in my heart I heard
The last sad notes of Hope’s expiring bird,
As I came through the valley.

As I came through the valley desolate,
As I came through the valley, like a beam
Of lurid lightning I beheld a gleam
Of Love’s great eyes that now were full of hate.
Dear God! dear God! I could bear all but that;
But I fell down soul-stricken, dead, thereat,
As I came through the valley.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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War Song

Remember the Glories of Brien the Brave

Remember the glories of Brien the brave,
Though the days of the hero are o'er,
Though lost to Mononia and cold to the grave,
He returns to Kinkora no more.
That star of the field, which so often hath pour'd
Its beam on the battle, is set;
But enough of its glory remains on each sword,
To light us to victory yet.

Mononia! when Nature embellish'd the tint
Of thy fields, and thy mountains so fair,
Did she ever intend that a tyrant should print
The footstep of slavery there?
No! Freedom, whose smile we shall never resign,
Go, tell our invaders, the Danes,
That 'tis sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrine,
Than to sleep but a moment in chains.

Forget not our wounded companions who stoood
In the day of distress by our side;
While the moss of the valley grew red with their blood,
They stirr'd not, but conquer'd and died.
That sun which now blesses our arms with his light,
Saw them fall upon Ossory's plain; --
Oh! let him not blush, when he leaves us to-night,
To find that they fell there in vain.

poem by Thomas Moore
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The Rose

See, Mignonne, hath not the Rose,
That this morning did unclose
Her purple mantle to the light,
Lost, before the day be dead,
The glory of her raiment red,
Her colour, bright as yours is bright?

Ah, Mignonne, in how few hours,
The petals of her purple flowers
All have faded, fallen, died;
Sad Nature, mother ruinous,
That seest thy fair child perish thus
‘Twixt matin song and even tide.

Hear me, my darling, speaking sooth,
Gather the fleet flower of your youth,
Take ye your pleasure at the best;
Be merry ere your beauty flit,
For length of days will tarnish it
Like roses that were loveliest.

poem by Pierre Ronsard
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Verses to Her Royal Highness the Duchess, on the Memorable Victory Gained by the Duke Against the Hollanders, June 3rd, 1665

Madam,
When, for our sakes, your hero you resigned
To swelling seas, and every faithless wind;
When you released his courage, and set free
A valour fatal to the enemy;
You lodged your country's cares within your breast,
(The mansion where soft love should only rest,)
And, ere our foes abroad were overcome,
The noblest conquest you had gained at home.
Ah, what concerns did both your souls divide!
Your honour gave us what your love denied;
And 'twas for him much easier to subdue
Those foes he fought with, than to part from you.
That glorious day, which two such navies saw,
As each unmatched might to the world give law,
Neptune, yet doubtful whom he should obey,
Held to them both the trident of the sea:
The winds were hushed, the waves in ranks were cast,
As awfully as when God's people past:
Those, yet uncertain on whose sails to blow,
These, where the wealth of nations ought to flow.
Then with the Duke your Highness ruled the day:
While all the brave did his command obey,
The fair and pious under you did pray.
How powerful are chaste vows! the wind and tide
You bribed to combat on the English side.
Thus to your much-loved lord you did convey
An unknown succour, sent the nearest way.
New vigour to his wearied arms you brought,
(So Moses was upheld while Israel fought)
While, from afar, we heard the cannon play,
Like distant thunder on a shiny day.
For absent friends we were ashamed to fear,
When we considered what you ventured there.
Ships, men, and arms, our country might restore,
But such a leader could supply no more.
With generous thoughts of conquest he did burn,
Yet fought not more to vanquish than return.
Fortune and victory he did pursue,
To bring them, as his slaves, to wait on you:
Thus beauty ravished the rewards of fame,
And the fair triumphed, when the brave o'ercame.
Then, as you meant to spread another way
By land your conquests, far as his by sea,
Leaving our southern clime, you marched along
The stubborn north ten thousand Cupids strong.
Like commons the nobility resort,
In crowding heaps, to fill your moving court:
To welcome your approach the vulgar run,
Like some new envoy from the distant sun;
And country beauties by their lovers go,
Blessing themselves, and wondering at the show.
So, when the new-born Phœnix first is seen,
Her feathered subjects all adore their queen,
And, while she makes her progress through the east,
From every grove her numerous train's increased:
Each poet of the air her glory sings,
And round him the pleased audience clap their wings.

poem by John Dryden
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Faded Ages

Where do days reside?
Those faded ones
Whose light has died;
The ones of praise...and of regret
Those old, old days,
Way beyond the sunset...

Does anyone recall,
Or still alive
Who first hand saw,
Those gone days
Scattered far past the end,
Of the sun's long rays...

Can anyone -at all- state what fate,
Became of all those
Who once walked life's forgotten rows;
The folks of old, now laying so cold
In unremembered ages,
The earthly fallen, torn and gone, from life's short pages?

poem by Smoky Hoss
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Darling

Hey my darling don’t be so sad
It’s not good but it’s not that bad
You’ve lost just one battle
Rest of the war is yet to be fought
You’ve to save the things from being distraught

Oh my angel don’t feel so low
Bring back your smile that shining glow
What is past and that is gone
Those were just bad days, bad phase of your life
Life is calling you forget all those strifes

O my sweetheart please don’t cry
Don’t lose your heart without a try
You’ve few dead dreams
Now put them in to the grave
Stand up with the time and be a little brave

Darling darling! Don’t look at the dust
You have to keep the faith & your trust
Just one wrong move
Now get ready for the right
You’re not alone baby, together we’ll fight

Yes my sweet lady I’m with you
My love kisses you in everything you do
This is the time for new beginning
Just go ahead and fight with no fear & aghast
And I will take care of your broken heart

poem by Sourav RCY
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Higher than love lived my star,
My clear, cold star.
Why must she droop to our mists below?
Ah, for the glory of long ago!
Ah, for the pride no more!
When she stood so far.
Would she were lost in the days before,
In the perished glow.

Star wandered out of my light,
Once all my light,
Seeing the sky through a dullness of tears,
Crying for thee to the empty years,
Where should I seek for thee
Mid the. desert night?
Not on the earth.
Ah! the star that nears
Has forgotten to be.

poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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Patriotism 02 Nelson, Pitt, Fox

TO mute and to material things
New life revolving summer brings;
The genial call dead Nature hears,
And in her glory reappears.
But oh, my Country's wintry state
What second spring shall renovate?
What powerful call shall bid arise
The buried warlike and the wise;

The mind that thought for Britain's weal,
The hand that grasp'd the victor steel?
The vernal sun new life bestows
Even on the meanest flower that blows;
But vainly, vainly may he shine
Where glory weeps o'er NELSON'S shrine;
And vainly pierce the solemn gloom
That shrouds, O PITT, thy hallow'd tomb!

Deep graved in every British heart,
O never let those names depart!
Say to your sons,--Lo, here his grave,
Who victor died on Gadite wave!
To him, as to the burning levin,
Short, bright, resistless course was given.
Where'er his country's foes were found
Was heard the fated thunder's sound,
Till burst the bolt on yonder shore,
Roll'd, blazed, destroy'd--and was no more.

Nor mourn ye less his perish'd worth,
Who bade the conqueror go forth,
And launch'd that thunderbolt of war
On Egypt, Hafnia, Trafalgar;
Who, born to guide such high emprise,
For Britain's weal was early wise;
Alas! to whom the Almighty gave,
For Britain's sins, an early grave!
--His worth, who in his mightiest hour
A bauble held the pride of power,
Spurn'd at the sordid lust of pelf,
And served his Albion for herself;
Who, when the frantic crowd amain
Strain'd at subjection's bursting rein,
O'er their wild mood full conquest gain'd,
The pride he would not crush, restrain'd,
Show'd their fierce zeal a worthier cause,
And brought the freeman's arm to aid the freeman's laws.

Hadst thou but lived, though stripp'd of power,
A watchman on the lonely tower,
Thy thrilling trump had roused the land,
When fraud or danger were at hand;
By thee, as by the beacon-light,
Our pilots had kept course aright;
As some proud column, though alone,
Thy strength had propp'd the tottering throne.
Now is the stately column broke,
The beacon-light is quench'd in smoke,
The trumpet's silver voice is still,
The warder silent on the hill!

O think, how to his latest day,
When Death, just hovering, claim'd his prey,
With Palinure's unalter'd mood
Firm at his dangerous post he stood;
Each call for needful rest repell'd,
With dying hand the rudder held,
Till in his fall with fateful sway
The steerage of the realm gave way.
Then--while on Britain's thousand plains
One polluted church remains,
Whose peaceful bells ne'er sent around
The bloody tocsin's maddening sound,
But still upon the hallow'd day
Convoke the swains to praise and pray;
While faith and civil peace are dear,
Grace this cold marble with a tear:--
He who preserved them, PITT, lies here!

Nor yet suppress the generous sigh,
Because his rival slumbers nigh;
Nor be thy Requiescat dumb
Lest it be said o'er Fox's tomb.
For talents mourn, untimely lost,
When best employ'd, and wanted most;
Mourn genius high, and lore profound,
And wit that loved to play, not wound;
And all the reasoning powers divine
To penetrate, resolve, combine;
And feelings keen, and fancy's glow--
They sleep with him who sleeps below:
And, if thou mourn'st they could not save
From error him who owns this grave,
Be every harsher thought suppress'd,
And sacred be the last long rest.
Here, where the end of earthly things
Lays heroes, patriots, bards, and kings;
Where stiff the hand, and still the tongue,
Of those who fought, and spoke, and sung;
Here, where the fretted vaults prolong
The distant notes of holy song,
As if some angel spoke agen,
'All peace on earth, good-will to men';
If ever from an English heart,
O, here let prejudice depart,
And, partial feeling cast aside,
Record that Fox a Briton died!
When Europe crouch'd to France's yoke,
And Austria bent, and Prussia broke,
And the firm Russian's purpose brave
Was barter'd by a timorous slave--
Even then dishonour's peace he spurn'd,
The sullied olive-branch return'd,
Stood for his country's glory fast,
And nail'd her colours to the mast!
Heaven, to reward his firmness, gave
A portion in this honour'd grave;
And ne'er held marble in its trust
Of two such wondrous men the dust.

With more than mortal powers endow'd,
How high they soar'd above the crowd!
Theirs was no common party race,
Jostling by dark intrigue for place;
Like fabled gods, their mighty war
Shook realms and nations in its jar;
Beneath each banner proud to stand,
Look'd up the noblest of the land,
Till through the British world were known
The names of PITT and Fox alone.
Spells of such force no wizard grave
E'er framed in dark Thessalian cave,
Though his could drain the ocean dry,
And force the planets from the sky.
These spells are spent, and, spent with these,
The wine of life is on the lees.
Genius, and taste, and talent gone,
For ever tomb'd beneath the stone,
Where--taming thought to human pride!--
The mighty chiefs sleep side by side.
Drop upon Fox's grave the tear,
'Twill trickle to his rival's bier;
O'er PITT'S the mournful requiem sound,
And Fox's shall the notes rebound.
The solemn echo seems to cry,
'Here let their discord with them die.
Speak not for those a separate doom
Whom fate made Brothers in the tomb;
But search the land of living men,
Where wilt thou find their like agen?'

poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Patriotism 2. Nelson, Pitt, Fox