Our Daily Bread
We need no barbarous words nor solemn spell
To raise the unknown. It lies before our feet;
There have been men who sank down into Hell
In some suburban street,
And some there are that in their daily walks
Have met archangels fresh from sight of God,
Or watched how in their beans and cabbage-stalks
Long files of faerie trod.
Often me too the Living voices call
In many a vulgar and habitual place,
I catch a sight of lands beyond the wall,
I see a strange god’s face.
And some day this work will work upon me so
I shall arise and leave both friends and home
And over many lands a pilgrim go
Through alien woods and foam,
Seeking the last steep edges of the earth
Whence I may leap into that gulf of light
Wherein, before my narrowing Self had birth,
Part of me lived aright.
poem by Clive Staples Lewis
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Related quotes
Whose Blame?
'A woman's work is never done,'
Said she.
'From dawn to setting of the sun,'
Said she.
'I toil and moil and work and slave,
And do my best to pinch and save,
And yet you say I don't behave,'
Said she.
And twenty men in twenty carts
In that suburban street
Long, long before the daylight starts
Are setting out with cakes and tarts
And fish and milk and meat
And cauliflowers, beans and bread
What time my lady lies in bed.
'All day I have to live alone,'
Said she.
'Attending to the door or 'phone,'
Said she.
'While you go gaily into town
To meet your friends, I want a gown,
A hat! This life has got me down,'
Said she.
And twenty men when day is done,
In that suburban street,
Who have performed the task of one
(If things more orderly were done),
Drive back along their beat. . .
It seems absurd. But, all the same,
Is it my lady who's to blame,
For all these economic cares,
Or just man's muddling of affairs?
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Home
Why go home
All alone
When its cold
And unknown
To a place
Not so safe
Where I feel like a waste
Of your time
Out of line
Thought I was doing fine
But I wasn't
I don't want it
And I'm sick
To my stomach
But who doesn't wanna see me
Hurt
They don't need me
It so easy
Just to leave me
Alone
On my own
In this place
You call home
By myself
With no help
I don't need nothing else
I'll be well
I'll repell
I stay locked
In this cell
Your words burn
Worse then hell
And my head
It just swells
From the shit
That they say
Every f****** day
Go away
I can't stay
With this price
That I pay
Its not worth
All this hurt
Just to be
On this earth
I've been cursed
It don't work
Not for me
As you see
But I guess
I'll just be
So trapped
And alone
In this place
You call home....
poem by Vanessa Mercado
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Alien Afternoon
Woke up in the morning staggered out of bed
Thought about getting back again, but went downstairs instead
Read the daily paper have to know the truth
Slammed the door as i ran outside, looked at my watch and cried
Gotta get to work on time
Gotta get to work on time
Then the sky turned a deeper blue
Not a cloud as the sun shone through
But all around rain kept falling to the ground
The wind was blowing but the trees didn't make a sound
Just another alien afternoon
Just another alien afternoon
Time that i was leaving while there's still a chance
Before i start believing in what i see or hear
Nothing here to keep me, nothing anywhere
Gotta get out pack my bags before i go insane
Gotta get away in time
Gotta get away in time
Then the sky turned from blue to green
Took on colours i have never seen
Then a sound started ringing in my ears
I heard voices but in truth there's nobody there
Just another alien afternoon
Just another alien afternoon
To be there back where i belong
To feel again the wind upon my face
To see again all that i took for granted
All that i left and everything i knew
We are home
We are your home
We are all your home
Not another alien afternoon
Never more to go wandering
Never leaving my world behind
There was never a reason
To leave my heart and my home behind
Where i was born is where i should be now
I would never be lonely
I would never be sad again
I wanted to go anywhere
I wanted to see how strange it all could be
Nothing would ever take me away again
Never more to go wandering
Never leaving my world behind
No, no, no, no
Nothing will ever take me away again, away again
No, no, no, no
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only A Dream
METHOUGHT I saw thee yesternight
Sit by me in the olden guise,
The white robes and the pain foregone,
Weaving instead of amaranth crown
A web of mortal dyes.
I cried, 'Where hast thou been so long?'
(The mild eyes turned and mutely smiled
'Why dwellest thou in far-off lands?
What is that web within thy hands?'
--'I work for thee, my child.'
I clasped thee in my arms and wept;
I kissed thee oft with passion wild:
I poured fond questions, tender blame;
Still thy sole answer was the same,--
'I work for thee, my child.'
'Come and walk with me as of old.'
Then camest thou, silent as before;
We passed along that churchyard way
We used to tread each Sabbath day,
Till one trod earth no more.
I felt thy hand upon my arm,
Beside me thy meek face I saw,
Yet through the sweet familiar grace
A something spiritual could trace
That left a nameless awe.
Trembling I said, 'Long years have passed
Since thou wert from my side beguiled;
Now thou'rt returned and all shall be
As was before.'--Half-pensively
Thou answered'st--'Nay, my child.'
I pleaded sore: 'Hadst thou forgot
The love wherewith we loved of old,--
The long sweet days of converse blest,
The nights of slumber on thy breast,--
Wert thou to me grown cold?'
There beamed on me those eyes of heaven
That wept no more, but ever smiled;
'Love only is love in that Home
Where I abide--where, till thou come,
I work for thee, my child.'
If from my sight thou passedst then,
Or if my sobs the dream exiled,
I know not: but in memory clear
I seem these strange words still to hear,
'I work for thee, my child.'
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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The Book Of Life Was Opened
The Book of Life was opened
And a name was written down
All of heaven stood and gazed
Not a movement, not a sound
The angels watched in silence
As the story did unfold
And from the pages of the book
The story it was told
And life sprung up from off the page
These words became a man
The angels gasped to see such work
To see God's mighty plan
A soul was fashioned in His hand
And how, no one could tell
It was marvelous and wonderful
And this my soul knows well
Where could I go from you Spirit Lord?
Could I hide in the depths of the sea?
No matter where I run to Lord
You still come after me
I could take the wings of the morning
And fly into the darkest night
And there be blinded by the darkness
And you would come and give me sight
I could ascend to the highest heaven
And I would find you there
I could fall to the lowest pits of hell
And discover that you are everywhere
And so you came and sought me out
Even in this hell dark place
For the day and night are both alike
As they gaze upon your face
For in the glorious light of heaven
There is no darkness that can stand
For through the very gates of hell
You came and took me by the hand
And you laid your hand upon me
That hand that gave me birth
That hand that knew me through and through
Before I came to earth
For before the earth was fashioned
That Book was in your hand
Before the sun shone in the sky
All of this was planned
Oh search me God and know my heart
That sin may have no place in me
For I was covered by your Blood
That precious Blood of Calvary
This sin it would assault my soul
And rob and steal and take from me
The testimony of my King
And what He did on Calvary
But praise the Lord there is no power
Neither hell nor death nor misery
Can come against the precious work
The precious work of Calvary
How precious are your thoughts to me
They're more in number than the sand
I'll praise you Lord eternally
My name was written by your hand.
poem by Frank McEleny
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Psalm 139
The Book of Life was opened
And a name was written down
All of heaven stood and gazed
Not a movement, not a sound
The angels watched in silence
As the story did unfold
And from the pages of the book
The story it was told
And life sprung up from off the page
These words became a man
The angels gasped to see such work
To see God's mighty plan
A soul was fashioned in His hand
And how, no one could tell
It was marvelous and wonderful
And this my soul knows well
Where could I go from you Spirit Lord?
Could I hide in the depths of the sea?
No matter where I run to Lord
You still come after me
I could take the wings of the morning
And fly into the darkest night
And there be blinded by the darkness
And you would come and give me sight
I could ascend to the highest heaven
And I would find you there
I could fall to the lowest pits of hell
And discover that you are everywhere
And so you came and sought me out
Even in this hell dark place
For the day and night are both alike
As they gaze upon your face
For in the glorious light of heaven
There is no darkness that can stand
For through the very gates of hell
You came and took me by the hand
And you laid your hand upon me
That hand that gave me birth
That hand that knew me through and through
Before I came to earth
For before the earth was fashioned
That Book was in your hand
Before the sun shone in the sky
All of this was planned
Oh search me God and know my heart
That sin may have no place in me
For I was covered by your Blood
That precious Blood of Calvary
This sin it would assault my soul
And rob and steal and take from me
The testimony of my King
And what He did on Calvary
But praise the Lord there is no power
Neither hell nor death nor misery
Can come against the precious work
The precious work of Calvary
How precious are your thoughts to me
They're more in number than the sand
I'll praise you Lord eternally
My name was written by your hand.
poem by Frank McEleny
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Birth
Welcome to this place called earth.
Come alive. It's the day of your birth.
Hear new voices all around,
all the voices that surround
your tiny body. It's a shock.
The time of your birth is seen on a clock.
All new sensations except for one,
except for a heartbeat, you know none.
Vision blurry except for light
Where is the warmth and darkened sight?
Your body's cold. It's a shame.
Someone holds you and says your name.
Nothing's familiar.
Everything's strange.
Someone is singing. This you recall.
Tiny lips sucking swallowing small
drops of sustenance, soothing and calm
while you're holding a finger in your palm.
Welcome to this place once again.
Come alive. Remember when
all was peaceful. Heaven was near,
No trepidation and no fear.
You left it behind. It's not here.
This is the day of your new birth year.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Shadow and Light
Cease, empty Faith, the Spectrum saith,
I was, and lo, have been;
I, God, am nought: a shade of thought,
Which, but by darkness seen,
Upon the unknown yourselves have thrown,
Placed it and light between.
At morning’s birth on darkened earth,
And as the evening sinks,
Awfully vast abroad is cast
The lengthened form that shrinks
And shuns the sight in midday light,
And underneath you slinks.
From barren strands of wintry lands
Across the seas of time,
Borne onward fast ye touch at last
An equatorial clime;
In equatorial noon sublime
At zenith stands the sun,
And lo, around, far, near, are found
Yourselves, and Shadow none.
A moment! yea! but when the day
At length was perfect day!
A moment! so! and light we know
With dark exchanges aye,
Nor morn nor eve shall shadow leave
Your sunny paths secure,
And in your sight that orb of light
Shall humbler orbs obscure.
And yet withal, ’tis shadow all
Whate’er your fancies dream,
And I (misdeemed) that was, that seemed,
Am not, whate’er I seem.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Work, Sleep, Work, Sleep, Work
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work:
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work.
Oh free me please with gentle ease
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work!
This odium, pounding tedium
Of my work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
Just whisk me off to lands afar
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
That grinding train of rhythmic pain
Called ‘Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.’
Poor neural circuits fizzle and pop
In work, sleep, work, sleep, work,
In trying to make some sense of all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
But Hark! I see a golden gleam -
A saving spirit of hope:
‘You’re fired! ’ He screams. What news to bear,
This wondrous hangman’s rope!
So now I’m free, released from all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
Eternal peace and rest for me, no
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Perinde AC Cadaver
In a vision Liberty stood
By the childless charm-stricken bed
Where, barren of glory and good,
Knowing nought if she would not or would,
England slept with her dead.
Her face that the foam had whitened,
Her hands that were strong to strive,
Her eyes whence battle had lightened,
Over all was a drawn shroud tightened
To bind her asleep and alive.
She turned and laughed in her dream
With grey lips arid and cold;
She saw not the face as a beam
Burn on her, but only a gleam
Through her sleep as of new-stamped gold.
But the goddess, with terrible tears
In the light of her down-drawn eyes,
Spake fire in the dull sealed ears;
"Thou, sick with slumbers and fears,
Wilt thou sleep now indeed or arise?
"With dreams and with words and with light
Memories and empty desires
Thou hast wrapped thyself round all night;
Thou hast shut up thine heart from the right,
And warmed thee at burnt-out fires.
"Yet once if I smote at thy gate,
Thy sons would sleep not, but heard;
O thou that wast found so great,
Art thou smitten with folly or fate
That thy sons have forgotten my word?
O Cromwell's mother, O breast
That suckled Milton! thy name
That was beautiful then, that was blest,
Is it wholly discrowned and deprest,
Trodden under by sloth into shame?
"Why wilt thou hate me and die?
For none can hate me and live.
What ill have I done to thee? why
Wilt thou turn from me fighting, and fly,
Who would follow thy feet and forgive?
"Thou hast seen me stricken, and said,
What is it to me? I am strong:
Thou hast seen me bowed down on my dead
And laughed and lifted thine head,
And washed thine hands of my wrong.
"Thou hast put out the soul of thy sight;
Thou hast sought to my foemen as friend,
To my traitors that kiss me and smite,
To the kingdoms and empires of night
That begin with the darkness, and end.
"Turn thee, awaken, arise,
With the light that is risen on the lands,
With the change of the fresh-coloured skies;
Set thine eyes on mine eyes,
Lay thy hands in my hands."
She moved and mourned as she heard,
Sighed and shifted her place,
As the wells of her slumber were stirred
By the music and wind of the word,
Then turned and covered her face.
"Ah," she said in her sleep,
"Is my work not done with and done?
Is there corn for my sickle to reap?
And strange is the pathway, and steep,
And sharp overhead is the sun.
"I have done thee service enough,
Loved thee enough in my day;
Now nor hatred nor love
Nor hardly remembrance thereof
Lives in me to lighten my way.
"And is it not well with us here?
Is change as good as is rest?
What hope should move me, or fear,
That eye should open or ear,
Who have long since won what is best?
"Where among us are such things
As turn men's hearts into hell?
Have we not queens without stings,
Scotched princes, and fangless kings?
Yea," she said, "we are well.
"We have filed the teeth of the snake
Monarchy, how should it bite?
Should the slippery slow thing wake,
It will not sting for my sake;
Yea," she said, "I do right."
So spake she, drunken with dreams,
Mad; but again in her ears
A voice as of storm-swelled streams
Spake; "No brave shame then redeems
Thy lusts of sloth and thy fears?
"Thy poor lie slain of thine hands,
Their starved limbs rot in thy sight;
As a shadow the ghost of thee stands
Among men living and lands,
And stirs not leftward or right.
"Freeman he is not, but slave,
Who stands not out on my side;
His own hand hollows his grave,
Nor strength is in me to save
Where strength is none to abide.
"Time shall tread on his name
That was written for honour of old,
Who hath taken in change for fame
Dust, and silver, and shame,
Ashes, and iron, and gold."
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Summer Lightning
Just now, as warm day faded from our sight
Hosts of archangels, fleet
On lighting-winged feet
Passed by, all glimmering in the busy night
Sweet angels, bringing no blinding truth to birth
Give us no messages
From heavenly palaces;
Leave us our dark trees and our starlight earth.
poem by Lesbia Harford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Summer Lightning
Just now, as warm day faded from our sight
Hosts of archangels, fleet
On lighting-winged feet
Passed by, all glimmering in the busy night
Sweet angels, bringing no blinding truth to birth
Give us no messages
From heavenly palaces;
Leave us our dark trees and our starlight earth.
poem by Lesbia Harford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Home
Where is ones home,
As He passes through the corridor's of life
Is it the bed that He was born onto
Or the place, fate chose for him to die.
Where is home for the Sailor
Who sails the world upon a ship
Is home a port He has docked into
Or is home a well remembered crib.
Where youth was a friend and tomorrow a dream.
And sorrow and sadness was never seen.
Where is home for the woman
Who has had many different homes
Where is home for the drifter
Who loves nothing more to roam.
Where wishes are still alive and never to far
Where home is a dew drop, and sleep are the stars.
Where is home for the child
Who has lived many a childhood dream
Where is home for the prisoner
Who someday in life will be freed.
Home is many different things
Its a bedtime story or a childhood dream
A piece of a wall or a blushing wife
Or is it that hazy memory still never out of sight.
Home is not where you lay your bones
After a day of hardened work
Home is not even the place that you stay
When your feet have begun to hurt.
Home my friend it might not even be
The place where you currently do live
For home my friend is not just a word
But it is, where the heart is.....
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Where-Away
O the Lands of Where-Away!
Tell us--tell us--where are they?
Through the darkness and the dawn
We have journeyed on and on--
From the cradle to the cross--
From possession unto loss,--
Seeking still, from day to day,
For the lands of Where-Away.
When our baby-feet were first
Planted where the daisies burst,
And the greenest grasses grew
In the fields we wandered through,
On, with childish discontent,
Ever on and on we went,
Hoping still to pass, some day,
O'er the verge of Where-Away.
Roses laid their velvet lips
On our own, with fragrant sips;
But their kisses held us not,
All their sweetness we forgot;--
Though the brambles in our track
Plucked at us to hold us back--
'Just ahead,' we used to say,
'Lie the Lands of Where-Away.'
Children at the pasture-bars,
Through the dusk, like glimmering stars,
Waved their hands that we should bide
With them over eventide:
Down the dark their voices failed
Falteringly, as they hailed,
And died into yesterday--
Night ahead and--Where-Away?
Twining arms about us thrown--
Warm caresses, all our own,
Can but stay us for a spell--
Love hath little new to tell
To the soul in need supreme,
Aching ever with the dream
Of the endless bliss it may
Find in Lands of Where-Away!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Mad Not Mad
The windows are open wide
Georgie fame for those outside
And answering the call
Blue flames leap up the wall
Who would have thought it strange
That all of us would change
Out there in the hall
The shadows leave the wall
Then we had the plan
Back when it began
And as we turn we know
That one of us will go
(would you) dance with a mad man, mad man, mad man
Over the hills and far away
Arm in arm
Mad not mad
A star-spangled sight
Silhouettes at night
Dancing over big ben
Seven ragged men
Up up and away
Forever and a day
(would you) dance with a mad man, mad man, mad man
Over the hills and far away
Arm in arm
Mad not mad
Dance with a mad man, mad man, mad man
Beyond the reach of yesterday
What are we but our friends
Mad not mad
(mad not mad)
Hello crazy gang
Goodbye with a bang
What are we but our friends
Sailing round the bend
In love through thick and thin
I know it will all win
(would you) dance with a mad man, mad man, mad man
Over the hills and far away
Arm in arm
Mad not mad
Dance with a mad man, mad man, mad man
Beyond the reach of yesterday
What are we but our friends
Mad not mad
Dance with a mad man, mad man, mad man
As only you can
Enjoying his company
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lap Of Luxury
I work all day and I work all night 4x
I work all day and I work all night
I work so my wife and kids will have a pleasant life
I work as many jobs as I can
Im proud to work I guess Im just a working man
-who am I to complain
I live in the lap of luxury
I got a car and a big tv thats so fine
I go to the pictures when I can
-the pictures take me to far-away lands
-almost makes me forget who I am
Sometimes at work Ive a fantasy
That Im a man who livesa life of mystery
(but) then the whistle brings me to
I cant forget why Im here, Ive got a job to do
-responsibility- is much more important to a man like me
I work all day and I work all night
I work all day and I work all night - etc. etc.
Guitar solo
I got a job at the factory
But I dont mind cause I know that the job is right for me
I dont complain Im satisfied
And I dont care to rub elbows with the wealthy
Theyve got their problems too, I dont envy them a bit dont ya know
Im doin what I want and it aint so bas
Ive got everything that a man could have
(Im) living in the lap of luxury - living in the lap of luxury
Work all day and I work all night
I work all day and I work all night etc. etc.
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Is What I See
I land a leap
Quietly, gracefully
I look into the wall-length mirror, to the left
And this is what I see…
The floor springs move beneath me
Someone mounts the highest beam,
ready for anything
Tasha spots my team
And I cheer for my coach
And always, and always
There’s coaches, there’s friends
Coaches I’ve known since my childhood…
I grew up here
I look into the wall-length mirror, in the center
And this is what I see…
Someone cross-tumbles, adrenaline rushes
As she lands a front handspring
Caitlyn lands a punch front, sticks it
And I cheer for my friend
And always, and always
There’s coaches, there’s friends
Friends I’ve known since I was three…
I grew up here
I look into the wall-length mirror, to the right
And this is what I see…
Shannon dismounts, back tuck from the uneven bars
And I cheer for my friend
Team girls on the trampoline
Littles in the pit back in the farthest corner
And always, and always
There’s coaches, there’s friends
People I’ve known since a long time ago…
I grew up at Spirits
A Telephone Call
it is surprising. A soul uses
a telephone for a call.
Are not telephones supposed
to be dead? They're alive
only for the those maids
who do not have cellphones,
they are for them. But it is
a surprise, it is my call.
Long distance from Vegas.
Midnoon. A sure way of
catching me, because she knows
i am home and not doing any
work at this hour.
she is crying. She says she
is depressed. All those that she
loves either die, or they simply
leave her. She wants to come home
and she's broke.
can't you help me about this
loss? this mess. This hell.
Help me. She cries. She insists.
I have some pills, she says.
I love you.
What can i say? This woman
who once betrayed
my brother. This woman
who stole my hope.
I put down the phone.
She must face the wall
that she built.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Opportunity
I do not know if, climbing some steep hill,
Through fragrant wooded pass, this glimpse I bought,
Or whether in some mid-day I was caught
To upper air, where visions of God’s will
In pictures to our quickened sense fulfil
His word. But this I saw.
A path I sought
Through wall of rock. No human fingers wrought
The golden gates which opened sudden, still,
And wide. My fear was hushed by my delight.
Surpassing fair the lands; my path lay plain;
Alas, so spell-bound, feasting on the sight,
I paused, that I but reached the threshold bright,
When, swinging swift, the golden gates again
Were rocky wall, by which I wept in vain.
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem About Earth
I'm what's called a human being
and I've been one since my birth
I've lived here for many years
on this place that we call Earth.
Never lived anywhere else
as Earth's the place for me
other human beings live here too
and animals like Dogs and Chimpanzee.
Earth is called a Planet
but it's not like Mars
no humans live up there
so they'd be no Buses or cars.
There's lots of stuff on Earth
like Rivers, Mountains, and Trees,
and people grow stuff on Allotments
like Radish, Cabbage, and Peas.
The best things here on Earth?
has to be Football, Women, and Beer,
and because you won't find them on Mars
I say thank you Lord for putting them here!
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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