En.Citatepedia^®.ro

All Fools' Day

Now is the day when arrant fools
Play outworn tricks on sober men!
But, for the thoughtful soul that schools
His mind to conning o'er again
Past folly, that he may see clear
Faults of commission and neglect,
This is the day in all the year
For help-inducing retrospect!

Myself, when young and confident,
Walked ever proudly on my way;
With eyes set onward as I went
I gave small heed to yesterday.
But, growing old, the once bright star
Waned to a faint and sickly flame;
So faint I'd turn and gaze afar
For help along the way I came.

A chastening exercise for me
This yearly task of harking back;
For what a piteous fool I see
Comes tumbling up that thorny track!
I would cast ashes on my head
Did consolation not recall
That in the end, when all is said,
Both young and old, well - aren't we all?

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet III

There was a youth around whose early way
White angels hung in converse and sweet choir,
Teaching in summer clouds his thought to stray, --
In cloud and far horizon to desire.
His life was nursed in beauty, like the stream
Born of clear showers and the mountain dew,
Close under snow-clad summits where they gleam
Forever pure against heaven's orient blue.
Within the city's shades he walked at last.
Faint and more faint in sad recessional
Down the dim corridors of Time outworn,
A chorus ebbed from that forsaken past,
A hymn of glories fled beyond recall
With the lost heights and splendor of life's morn.

poem by Alan Seeger
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Japan

I saw a young man by a telephone
He was sitting alone in the rain
I said, hey, young man what you doing here?
He said, sir, Im going insane
See I love an american beauty
But nobody here understands
So he looked to the sky with resentment in his eyes
And said, lord, why am I in japan?
Lord why am I in japan?
He told me a story about yesterday
How he walked in the search of a friend
But nobody came to his rescue
So he came to his bitter end
He pulled me close and said
They all stopped and stared
As I walked down the street alone
And nobody knew my name
Nobody knew my name
I said, young man I know where youre going
And young man I know where youve been
But Ive been in this land for a lifetime, it seems,
And Im never to come back again
No, Im never to come back again
So I turned and I gave him my blessing
And I left him alone in the rain
But I had to just stop and laugh at myself
Still nobody knows my name
Nobody knows my name

song performed by by Vertical Horizon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Things to Come

When you have gone and I have gone
Beyond the ken of earthly things,
Yet watch the old race carry on
As to precarious life it clings,
Gazing together from afar,
Perched on some fixed or unfixed star,
We may find cause to meditate
Full thankfully upon our fate.

And you shall say - or I shall say:
Those were man's great days, yours and mine,
Before his glories passed away,
His kingship fell into decline,
When he walked proudly o'er the earth
Questing his joy at its broad girth
Ere fear and folly claimed his soul
And bade him emulate the mole.

And you shall gaze and I shall gaze
In pity from our distant star
And witness, thro' the cosmic haze
Earth's bosom scored by many a scar
Where in and out, in furtive haste
Strange, pallid little creatures raced,
Short-limbed, large-pawed, with small weak eyes
That feared to look up to the skies.

We'll watch the timid little gnomes,
So altered now in shape from us,
Peer from their subterranean homes
Half vengefully, half curious;
Then, at the barking of a gun,
Back to their holes we'll watch them run.
And I shall say - or you shall say:
'These were earth's masters in our day.'

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Do You Tackle Your Work

How do you tackle your work each day?
Are you scared of the job you find?
Do you grapple the task that comes your way
With a confident, easy mind?
Do you stand right up to the work ahead
Or fearfully pause to view it?
Do you start to toil with a sense of dread?
Or feel that you're going to do it?

You can do as much as you think you can,
But you'll never accomplish more;
If you're afraid of yourself, young man,
There's little for you in store.
For failure comes from the inside first,
It's there if we only knew it,
And you can win, though you face the worst,
If you feel that you're going to do it.

Success! It's found in the soul of you,
And not in the realm of luck!
The world will furnish the work to do,
But you must provide the pluck.
You can do whatever you think you can,
It's all in the way you view it.
It's all in the start you make, young man:
You must feel that you're going to do it.

How do you tackle your work each day?
With confidence clear, or dread?
What to yourself do you stop and say
When a new task lies ahead?
What is the thought that is in your mind?
Is fear ever running through it?
If so, just tackle the next you find
By thinking you're going to do it.
--From "A Heap o' Linin'," by Edgar A. Guest

I tackle my terrible job each day
With a fear that is well defined;
And I grapple the task that comes my way
With no confidence in my mind.
I try to evade the work ahead,
As I fearfully pause to view it,
And I start to toil with a sense of dread,
And doubt that I'm going to do it.

I can't do as much as I think I can,
And I never accomplish more.
I am scared to death of myself, old man,
As I may have observed before.
I've read the proverbs of Charley Schwab,
Carnegie, and Marvin Hughitt;
But whenever I tackle a difficult job,
O gosh! I hate to do it!

I try to believe in my vaunted power
With that confident kind of bluff,
But somebody tells me The Conning Tower
Is nothing but awful stuff.
And I take up my impotent pen that night,
And idly and sadly chew it,
As I try to write something merry and bright,
And I know that I shall not do it.

And that's how I tackle my work each day--
With terror and fear and dread--
And all I can see is a long array
Of empty columns ahead.
And those are the thoughts that are in my mind,
And that's about all there's to it.
As long as there's work, of whatever kind,
I'm certain I cannot do it.

poem by Franklin P. Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Morning Star

IN the black pool of the midnight Lu has slung the morning star,
And its foam in rippling silver whitens into day afar
Falling on the mountain rampart piled with pearl above our glen,
Only you and I, beloved, moving in the fields of men.

In the dark tarn of my spirit, love, the morning star, is lit;
And its halo, ever brightening, lightens into dawn in it.
Love, a pearl-grey dawn in darkness, breathing peace without desire;
But I fain would shun the burning terrors of the mid-day fire.

Through the faint and tender airs of twilight star on star may gaze,
But the eyes of light are blinded in the white flame of the days,
From the heat that melts together oft a rarer essence slips,
And our hearts may still be parted in the meeting of the lips.

What a darkness would I gaze on when the day had passed the west,
If my eyes were dazed and blinded by the whiteness of a breast?
Never through the diamond darkness could I hope to see afar
Where beyond the pearly rampart burned the purer evening star.

poem by George William Russell
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Its Getting Dangerous

The man finds himself alone for the first time in his life
Hes always got a problem, hes got to work it out wrong or right
Hes got to work it out, hes so lonely in the night
Hes got to work it all alone
Now who in the world would believe that hes got another trick up his sleeve
And who in the world wants to know which way should he go
Which way should he turn? which way should he learn?
Which day should he stop? which way to the top?
I remember him when we were friends, when we were young, way back then
I still can recall when we were small how he tried his best to warn us all
This living on his own has turned his heart to stone and its all pain
He sits out on his own and eats his heart out alone in the pouring rain
Now who in the world would have know
That just a few years ago his love could have grown and grown
Through the rain, the sleet and snow
But the rain, the sleet and snow chills the heart and kills the soul
So the let the cold winds blow
What he doesnt see he doesnt know
I remember him when we were friends, when we were young, way back then
I recall it all when we were small how he tried his best to warn us all
I remember it still, I always will when we were friends way back then
I recall it all when we were small how he tried his best to warn us all
He said, watch out for the danger
He said, watch out
The man is a winner for the first time in his life
He looks a little thinner but he says hey that doesnt matter
But if you look closely
Youll see a cold smug self-satisfactory smile behind
And now that he has won it doesnt matter how or which way it was done
Now that hes in control, revenge is in his heart and soul
The power is at his fingertips, vengeance is on his lips
But the power he fought to control now has got him in its grips
I remember him when we were friends, when we were young, way back then
I recall it all when we were small how he tried his best to warn us all
I remember it still, I always will when we were friends way back then
I recall it all when we were small how he tried his best to warn us all
I remember him when we were friends, when we were young, way back then
But now were all grown up and were strangers
You see, bit by bit, part by part, we slipped and slipped
Till wed grown apart and now were strangers

song performed by by Thin Lizzy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Quiet Eyes

The boys come home, come home from war,
With quiet eyes for quiet things --
A child, a lamb, a flower, a star,
A bird that softly sings.

Young faces war-worn and deep-lined,
The satin smoothness past recall;
Yet out of sight is out of mind
For the worst wrong of all.

As nightmare dreams that pass with sleep,
The horror and grief intolerable.
The unremembering young eyes keep
Their innocence. All is well!

The worldling's eyes are dusty dim,
The eyes of sin are weary and cold,
The fighting boy brings home with him
The unsullied eyes of old.

The war has furrowed the young face.
Oh, there's no all-heal, no wound-wort!
The soul looks from its hidden place
Unharmed, unflawed, unhurt.

poem by Katharine Tynan
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Ashes

(lonnie wilson/chris waters/charlotte wilson)
Ashes
Hes nothing but ashes
No feelings have lasted
No love remains
Ashes
Thats all that our past is
Hes nothing but ashes
From a cold old flame
I saw your face when
He waltzed in here
But those old embers
Havent burned for years
The light thats shining
In my eyes
Is for the one that
Im with tonight
Ashes
Hes nothing but ashes
No feelings have lasted
No love remains
Ashes
Thats all that our past is
Hes nothing but ashes
From a cold old flame
No I dont blame you
For having some doubts
But when he left me
That fire burned out
So dont be thinking
Theres still a spark
cause he could never
Tear us apart
Ashes
Hes nothing but ashes
No feelings have lasted
No love remains
Ashes
Thats all that our past is
Hes nothing but ashes
From a cold old flame
Hes nothing but ashes
From a cold old flame
Back to top of page

song performed by by Martina Mcbride
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yesterday When I Was Young

(charles aznavour / herbert kretzmer)
Spoken : somehow, it seems the love I knew was always the most destructive kind
Yesterday when I was young
The taste of life was sweet
As rain upon my tongue
I teased at life as if it were a foolish game
The way the evening breeze
May tease the candle flame
The thousand dreams I dreamed
The splendid things I planned
I always built to last on weak and shifting sand
I lived by night and shunned the naked light of day
And only now I see how the time ran away
Yesterday when I was young
So many lovely songs were waiting to be sung
So many wild pleasures lay in store for me
And so much pain my eyes refused to see
I ran so fast that time and youth at last ran out
I never stopped to think what life was all about
And every conversation that I can now recall
Concerned itself with me and nothing else at all
The game of love I played with arrogance and pride
And every flame I lit too quickly, quickly died
The friends I made all somehow seemed to slip away
And only now Im left alone to end the play, yeah
Oh, yesterday when I was young
So many, many songs were waiting to be sung
So many wild pleasures lay in store for me
And so much pain my eyes refused to see
There are so many songs in me that wont be sung
I feel the bitter taste of tears upon my tongue
The time has come for me to pay for yesterday
When I was young

song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yesterday

I've trod the links with many a man,
And played him club for club;
'Tis scarce a year since I began
And I am still a dub.
But this I've noticed as we strayed
Along the bunkered way,
No one with me has ever played
As he did yesterday.
It makes no difference what the drive,
Together as we walk,
Till we up to the ball arrive,
I get the same old talk:
"To-day there's something wrong with me,
Just what I cannot say.
Would you believe I got a three
For this hole--yesterday?"

I see them top and slice a shot,
And fail to follow through,
And with their brassies plough the lot,
The very way I do.
To six and seven their figures run,
And then they sadly say:
"I neither dubbed nor foozled one
When I played--yesterday!"

I have no yesterdays to count,
No good work to recall;
Each morning sees hope proudly mount,
Each evening sees it fall.
And in the locker room at night,
When men discuss their play,
I hear them and I wish I might
Have seen them--yesterday.

Oh, dear old yesterday! What store
Of joys for men you hold!
I'm sure there is no day that's more
Remembered or extolled.
I'm off my task myself a bit,
My mind has run astray;
I think, perhaps, I should have writ
These verses--yesterday.

poem by Edgar Albert Guest
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Sonnet XXII: With Fools and Children

To Folly

With fools and children, good discretion bears;
Then, honest people, bear with Love and me,
Nor older yet, nor wiser made by years,
Amongst the rest of fools and children be;
Love, still a baby, plays with gauds and toys,
And, like a wanton, sports with every feather,
And idiots still are running after boys,
Then fools and children fitt'st to go together.
He still as young as when he first was born,
No wiser I than when as young as he;
You that behold us, laugh us not to scorn;
Give Nature thanks you are not such as we.
Yet fools and children sometimes tell in play
Some, wise in show, more fools indeed than they.

poem by Michael Drayton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Be Young ... Life is short

The years pass as quick as we grow old
Grow old my foot as I might say so bold,
Speak for yourself [that voice in my head]
Don’t listen to what your brain is fed,
There is no excuse for being old today
Then wearing a ‘T’ shirt that doth say,
‘I’m retired an’ know a lot old and new
I’ve lots of time to tell it all to you’.
So its walks and yoga every day
Exercise and vegies keeps you from fading away,
Growing old is a war we all know that
Give in to nought and you’ll just get fat
Think young act young be young,
Life is short, we all die young!

poem by Ken e Hall
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Mary Lou

Words and music by young jessie and sam ling
Im gonna tell you a story bout mary lou
You know the kind of woman make a fool of you
She make a young man itch
She man an old man faint
The way she took my money was a crying shame
Mary lou she took my watch and chain
Mary lou she took my diamond ring
Mary lou she took the keys to my cadillac car
Jumped in my kitty and drove off far
Left me stranded in kalamazoo
Making her fortune off a fool like you
She married a rich man
Had a dozen kids
Drove that cat until he flipped his lid
Come back into town about a week ago
Told me she was sorry that she hurt me so
I had a fifty-five ford and a two dollar bill
The way she looked at that man gave me a chill
Mary lou

song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jane

As Jane walked out below the hill,
She saw an old man standing still,
His eyes in tranced sorrow bound
On the broad stretch of barren ground.

His limbs were knarled like aged trees,
His thin beard wrapt about his knees,
His visage broad and parchment white,
Aglint with pale reflected light.

He seemed a creature fall'n afar
From some dim planet or faint star.
Jane scanned him very close, and soon
Cried, ''Tis the old man from the moon.'

He raised his voice, a grating creak,
But only to himself would speak.
Groaning with tears in piteous pain,
'O! O! would I were home again.'

Then Jane ran off, quick as she could,
To cheer his heart with drink and food.
But ah, too late came ale and bread,
She found the poor soul stretched stone-dead.
And a new moon rode overhead.

poem by Robert Graves
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The After Woman

Daughter of the ancient Eve,
We know the gifts ye gave--and give.
Who knows the gifts which YOU shall give,
Daughter of the newer Eve?
You, if my soul be augur, you
Shall--O what shall you not, Sweet, do?
The celestial traitress play,
And all mankind to bliss betray;
With sacrosanct cajoleries
And starry treachery of your eyes,
Tempt us back to Paradise!
Make heavenly trespass;--ay, press in
Where faint the fledge-foot seraphin,
Blest Fool! Be ensign of our wars,
And shame us all to warriors!
Unbanner your bright locks,--advance
Girl, their gilded puissance,
I' the mystic vaward, and draw on
After the lovely gonfalon
Us to out-folly the excess
Of your sweet foolhardiness;
To adventure like intense
Assault against Omnipotence!

Give me song, as She is, new,
Earth should turn in time thereto!
New, and new, and thrice so new,
All old sweets, New Sweet, meant you!
Fair, I had a dream of thee,
When my young heart beat prophecy,
And in apparition elate
Thy little breasts knew wax-ed great,
Sister of the Canticle,
And thee for God grown marriageable.
How my desire desired your day,
That, wheeled in rumour on its way,
Shook me thus with presentience! Then
Eden's lopped tree shall shoot again:
For who Christ's eyes shall miss, with those
Eyes for evident nuncios?
Or who be tardy to His call
In your accents augural?

Who shall not feel the Heavens hid
Impend, at tremble of your lid,
And divine advent shine avowed
Under that dim and lucid cloud;
Yea, 'fore the silver apocalypse
Fail, at the unsealing of your lips?
When to love YOU is (O Christ's Spouse!)
To love the beauty of His house;
Then come the Isaian days; the old
Shall dream; and our young men behold
Vision--yea, the vision of Thabor mount,
Which none to other shall recount,
Because in all men's hearts shall be
The seeing and the prophecy.
For ended is the Mystery Play,
When Christ is life, and you the way;
When Egypt's spoils are Israel's right,
And Day fulfils the married arms of Night.
But here my lips are still.
Until
You and the hour shall be revealed,
This song is sung and sung not, and its words are sealed.

poem by Francis Thompson
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The Fever-Dream

IT was a fever-dream; I lay
Awake, as in the broad bright day,
But faint and worn I drew my breath
Like those who wait for coming death;
And my hand lay helpless on my pillow
Weak as a reed or bending willow;
And the night-lamp, with its shadowy veil,
And its light so sickly, faint, and pale,
Gleamed mournfully on objects round;
And the clock's stroke was the only sound;
Measuring the hours of silent time
With a heavy and unwelcome chime,
As still monotonously true
To its pulse-like beat, the minutes flew.

I was alone, but not asleep;
Too weary, and too wetk to weep.
My eyes had closed in sadness there;
And they who watched o'er my despair
Had placed that dim light in the room,
And deepened the surrounding gloom,
By curtaining out the few sad rays
Which made things present to my gaze;
And all because they vainly thought
At last the night its rest had brought,--
Alas! rest came no more to me
So heavy was my misery!

They left me, and my heart was filled
With wandering dreams, whose fancies thrilled
Painfully through my feeble brain,
Till I almost wished them back again.
Yet wherefore should I bid them stay?
They could not chase those dreams away,
But only watch me as I lay.

They left me, and the midnight stroke
From the old clock the silence broke;
And with a wild repining sigh
I wished it were my time to die!
And then, with spirit all dismayed,
For that wild wish, forgiveness prayed,
Humbling myself to God's high power
To bear His will, and wait His hour.

And while I darkly rested there,
The breath of a young child's floating hair,
Perfumed, and warm, and glistening bright,
Swept past me in the shrouding night;--
And the footsteps of children, light and quick,
(While my heart beat loud, and my breath came thick)
Went to and fro on the silent floor;--
And the lock was turned in the fastened door,
As a child may turn it, who tiptoe stands
With his fair round arms and his dimpled hands,
Putting out all their strength in vain
Admittance by his own means to gain:
Till his sweet impatient voice is heard
Like the chirp of a young imprisoned bird,
Seeking an entrance still to win
By fond petitions to those within.

A child's soft shadowy hair, bright smiles,
His merry laugh, and coaxing wiles,
These are sweet things,--most precious things,--
But in spite of my brain's wild wanderings,
I knew that they dwelt in my fancy only,
And that I was sad, and left, and lonely;
And the fear of a dreadful madness came
And withered my soul like a parching flame;
And I felt the strong delirium growing,
And the thread of my feeble senses going,
And I heard with a horror all untold
Which turned my hot blood icy-cold,
Those light steps draw more near my bed;
And by visions I was visited,
Of the gentle eyes which I might not see,
And the faces that were so far from me!

And blest, oh I blest was the morning beam
Which woke me up from my fever-dream!

poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Last Day

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
I fear that stranger from afar
He looks and wanders
Face all covered with scars.

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
I fear that stranger from afar
He whispers chills into the air
He freezes my soul with a single stare.

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
I fear that stranger from afar
Blood red shot eyes look at me
The fear in my brown one's he can see.

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
I fear that stranger from afar
Step by step he limps his way
Thump by thump my heart fears today was its last day

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
I fear that stranger from afar
I turn around and start to run from that stare
But when I turn he stands right there.

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
I fear that stranger from afar
He smiles exposing rotting yellow teeth and horrible breath
I know that this is a sign of Deah.

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
I fear that stranger from afar
I close my eyes and pray
'Oh God, I wish I'd lived today as if it were my Last Day.'

poem by Diana Euyoque
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The next to last pew

An old man was at church last Sunday
He sat in the next to last pew
I slid into the seat right next to him
And gave a him a friendly “hi-dee-do”

He gave me a nod with his time worn brow
Then swiveled his head all around
While his gaze sized up the parishioners
His ears seemed to soak up their sound

His sad gaze seemed to pick out each person
One by one, as he seemed to stare into their soul
To some he nodded, in an approving way
While to others his look was ice cold

I asked if he was a member of this church
I said I wasn’t familiar with him, was he new?
He smiled a soft smile and shook his head no
Said “I’m here most of the time…
here in this next to last pew”

I said “what do you think of our little church”
He rubbed his hands through his hair of silver grey
Looked deep in my eyes and gave a soft, sad sigh
And said “you may not like what I have to say”

He said “ Son, I can see into the soul of these people
And to you, what I say is on the level”
That Most are fools in the eyes of the Lord
The rest are pawns in the hands of the devil

I looked all around at my fellow church-goers
Of whom he spoke, I knew of more than a few
And when I turned back to allow “that could be so”
I was all alone in the next to last pew!

poem by David Whalen
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Exercise It

Exercise the will to succeed
The will can successfully enjoy itself.

Exercise the mind to proceed
The brain has much in procedure.

Exercise the body and to bleed
Inside the layers of itself.

Exercise again and again, indeed
To enliven the soul for its task.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As Slow Our Ship

As slow our ship her foamy track
Against the wind was cleaving,
Her trembling pennant still look'd back
To that dear isle 'twas leaving.
So loath we part from all we love,
From all the links that bind us;
So turn our hearts as on we rove,
To those we've left behind us.

When, round the bowl, of vanish'd years
We talk, with joyous seeming, --
With smiles that might as well be tears,
So faint, so sad their beaming;
While memory brings us back again
Each early tie that twined us,
Oh, sweet's the cup that circles then
To those we've left behind us.

And when, in other climes, we meet
Some isle, or vale enhanting,
Where all looks flowery, wild, and sweet,
And nought but love is wanting;
We think how great had been our bliss,
If Heaven had but assign'd us
To live and die in scenes like this,
With some we've left behind us!

As travellers oft look back at eve,
When eastward darkly going,
To gaze upon that light they leave
Still faint behind them glowing --
So, when the close of pleasure's day
To gloom hath near consign'd us,
We turn to catch one fading ray
Of joy that's left beind us.

poem by Thomas Moore
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