Craftsmen of Wine Bowls
On this wine bowl—pure silver,
made for the house of Herakleidis,
where good taste is the rule—
notice these graceful flowers, the streams, the thyme.
In the center I put this beautiful young man,
naked, erotic, one leg still dangling
in the water. O memory, I begged
for you to help me most in making
the young face I loved appear the way it was.
This proved very difficult because
some fifteen years have gone by since the day
he died as a soldier in the defeat at Magnesia.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Related quotes
My Young Soldier;
My young soldier,
Brave as can be.
My young soldier,
Don't stop fighting.
My young soldier,
You have so much strength.
My young soldier,
Please don't die on me.
My young soldier,
I love you so very much.
My young soldier,
I miss you so dearly.
My young soldier,
Come home to me.
poem by Heather Sandvoss
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Promise Of A Lie
Go to war young soldier,
Your glory will be praised.
Go to war young soldier,
Your home will stay the same.
Fight for us young soldier,
worry naught about your love.
Fight for us young soldier,
She waits for your return.
Welcome home young soldier,
Heres the medal upon your chest.
Welcome home young soldier,
Your life is now a mess.
Go away young soldier,
We have no more use for you.
Go away young soldier,
Till we call again for you.
Of Dimitrios Sotir
Everything he'd hoped for turned out wrong.
He'd seen himself doing great things,
ending the humiliation that had kept his country down
ever since the battle of Magnesia
seen himself making Syria a powerful state again,
with her armies, her fleets,
her big fortresses, her wealth.
He'd suffered in Rome, become bitter
when he sensed in the talk of friends,
young men of the great families,
that in spite of all their delicacy, their politeness
toward him, the son
of King Selefkos Philopator-
when he sensed that in spite of this there was always
a secret contempt for the Hellenized dynasties:
their heyday was over, they weren't fit for anything serious,
were completely unable to rule their peoples.
He'd cut himself off, indignant, swearing
it would be quite different from the way they thought.
Why, wasn't he himself full of determination?
He would act, he would fight, he would put it all right again.
If he could only find a way of getting to the East,
only manage to escape from Italy,
then all this inner strength,
all this energy,
he'd pass on to his people.
Only to be in Syria!
He was so young when he left his country
he hardly remembered what it looked like.
But in his mind he'd always thought of it
as something sacred that you approach reverently,
as a beautiful place unveiled, a vision
of Greek cities and Greek ports.
And now?
Now despair and sorrow.
They were right, the young men in Rome.
The dynasties resulting from the Macedonian Conquest
can't be kept going any longer.
It doesn't matter. He'd made the effort,
fought as much as he could.
And in his bleak disillusion
there's only one thing in which he still takes pride:
that even in failure
he shows the world his same indomitable courage.
The rest: they were dreams and wasted energy.
This Syria -it almost seems it isn't his country
this Syria is the land of Valas and Herakleidis.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Young And Beautiful
So young and beautiful
So young and beautiful
U're so young and beautiful
U're so full of life - everybody knows
That's why they try 2 take advantage of u...
but u don't have 2 do what the other ones do
U're so cool - the world at your feet,
they only want ur virginity
Keep ur clothes on and ur chastity
until u find the one that's worth it baby
So young and beautiful
So young and beautiful
U're so fine my heart's just pounding
If I had the chance 2 lay u down,
I'd probably take a rain check 'til next summer
cuz I don't wanna b like all ur other lovers
young and beautiful
young and beautiful
So young and beautiful
I'm hippin' u 2 the game darlin'
so that u'll always remain
young and beautiful
young and beautiful
oh yeah
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young Soldier
Stay calm soldier
Do not panic
Stay calm soldier
And think of what you were taught
You're too young to die
My soldier
You're too young to leave
Run soldier
From the danger ahead
Run soldier
Don't be brave
You're too young to die
My soldier
You're too young to leave
Fight soldier
The enemy that fights you
Fight soldier
And make it though the day
You're too young to die
My soldier
You're too young to leave
Come home soldier
I miss you terribly
Come home soldier
To me and your family
You're too young to die
My soldier
Don't ever leave me
poem by Only Yours
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Song of Myself, XI
Twenty-eight young men bathe by the shore,
Twenty-eight young men and all so friendly;
Twenty-eight years of womanly life and all so lonesome.
She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank,
She hides handsome and richly drest aft the blinds of the window.
Which of the young men does she like the best?
Ah the homeliest of them is beautiful to her.
Where are you off to, lady? for I see you,
You splash in the water there, yet stay stock still in your room.
Dancing and laughing along the beach came the twenty-ninth bather,
The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved them.
The beards of the young men glisten'd with wet, it ran from their long
hair,
Little streams pass'd over their bodies.
An unseen hand also pass'd over their bodies,
It descended trembling from their temples and ribs.
The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to the sun,
they do not ask who seizes fast to them,
They do not know who puffs and declines with the pendant and bending
arch,
They do not think whom they souse with spray.
poem by Walt Whitman
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I Gave The Flag To The Widow Of A Young Soldier
I gave the flag
To the widow of a young soldier
Who had died in the
Vietnan
War
Because I wanted to honour this young soldier's life
And also for the sacrifices that he made
poem by Aldo Kraas
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HIV/ AIDS Anecdotal Poems
She loved a man and he was young;
He loved her back and had some fun;
They married too and some years passed;
They both died young, left child orphan!
He was a trucker working hard;
He used to come home twice a month;
He was a wayward, smoker, drunk;
He died of AIDS, infecting wife!
A police husband’s wife was nurse;
The man gave HIV to her;
When he died, she took ART;
She died too when she stopped her drugs!
It was a jolly trip for boys;
They enjoyed well, sang, drank and danced;
Some strayed into the red-light zone;
All of them developed AIDS sometime!
Young boys and girls do venture young
To know what love-making’s about;
Adults have sex outside marriage;
And when AIDS strikes, they are soon dead!
Even the rich and literate
Succumb to pleasures that can kill;
Homosexuality, IDU
Can turn you sero-positive!
Why risk your one life precious most?
God wants the human race stay pure;
You cannot live by whims, fancies;
You are duty-bound till you die!
‘Avoid all risks of HIV exposure
Keep your mind, body’s composure’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-12-2011
poem by John Celes
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Another Young Soldier
Another young soldier has died far away
An army representative will call on his mother today
For to tell her your son on the course of his duty has died
He served and died for his Country with his mates at his side.
Another war mother will grieve for her son
It will not matter to her if the battle was won
And it will not matter to her if her boy died brave
She will weep every time she will visit his grave.
Another young soldier to join the war dead
A bullet from a sniper hit him in the head
On his next birthday in June he would be twenty three
His loss a heavy cross to bear for his parents and members of his family.
Another young soldier may he rest in peace
At least from further suffering he has found release
Just one more to die in another man's war
On a bombed out back street in a city afar.
poem by Francis Duggan
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At The Grave Of The Unknown Soldier
He was a brave soldier he died young and brave
And for more than six decades he lay in his grave
And still at the dawning of each war memorial day
At his grave site a young bugler the last post does play.
Known as the Unknown Soldier one without a name
Still he had a mum and a dad just the same
And when he did not return home when the fighting was done
They grieved at their loss and they wept for their son.
The war to end all wars of all wars 'tis said
But more wars are fought and we have more war dead
And at the grave of the unknown soldier the last post is played
And to honour the war dead another parade.
Old war men do tell us young soldiers fight and die
For freedom and liberty that is a lie
They went to war when young they are now old and gray
Some grow old not wiser some are known to say.
That they were fighting for freedom and justice they believed to be true
And they were quite gallant to give them their due
But many deprived of their human rights in the World of today
And that does seem a very sad thing for to say.
With heads bowed old men showing their years in gray
At the grave of the Unknown Soldier at the dawn of the day
In silence do listen as a young bugler the last post does play
For one who fought and died in a war far away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Who Am I? I Am!
who am i?
whose voice do you hear
when i growl?
whose face do you see
when i moan?
i am the train
that hasnt come
for twenty years,
the tracks left to whimper
like a deserted bride.
i am the lock rusted,
and the key that is lost.
i am the cross of silver
on the neck of the corpse.
i am the soldier come home
to no home at all.
i am the father burying
his only son.
i am the vote not cast,
the prayer unspoken.
i am the homeless shelter,
and the house in the suburbs.
i am the husband and wife,
splitting after 25 years.
i am the abused child,
the worker without a job.
i am two young men who are
in passionate love,
and the families that
turned their backs.
i am the young boy and girl
making love for the first time,
when nothing else matters.
i am the empty church,
and the library closed down.
i am laws that take away
the individual's rights.
i am a poet, a hammer, a wheelbarrow,
and a bag of used clothes,
left on the doorstep
of the family in need....
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Fall In Love With Me
Pop/bowie/sales/sales
You look so good to me
Here in this old saloon
Way back in west berlin
A bottle of white wine
White wine and you
A table made of wood
And how I wish you would
Fall in love with me
You look so good to me
Standing out in the street
With your cheap fur on
Or maybe your plastic raincoat
And your plastic shoes
They look good too
Standing in the snow
Youre younger than you look
Fall in love with me
Fall in love with me
How I wish you would
A table made of wood
And a bottle of white wine
And you-and a bottle of
White wine and you
And when youre standing
In the street and its cold
And it snows on you
And you look younger
Than you really are
I wish you would
Fall in love with me
I wish you would
Fall in love with me
I wish you would
Fall in love with me
I wish you would
Fall in love with me
Yeah
The way your eyes are black
The way your hair is black
The way your heart is young
Theres just a few like you
Just the kind I need
To fall in love with me
Oh and you look so good
Yes you look so good
A bottle of white wine
A cigarette and you
Here in this saloon
White wine and you
I wish youd fall in love with me
I wish youd fall in love with me
cause theres
Just a few like you
So young and real
Theres just a few like you
So young and real
Fall in love with me
Fall in love with me
Fall in love with me
Fall in love with me
I wish you would
You look so good
When youre young at heart
Theres just a few like you
Youre young at heart
Wont you
Come to this old saloon
Come to my waiting arms
A table made of wood
And I will look at you
cause youre so young and pure
And youre young at heart
Youre young at heart
A bottle of white wine
And when youre tumbling down
You just look better
When youre tumbling down
You just look finer
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Grieving Mother
The patriots celebrating the war has been won
But the grieving mother weeps for her dead son
Who died a young hero in a war far away
His twenty third birthday it would be today.
Out of the young war dead war heroes are made
This morning she did not go to watch the parade
Instead she placed flowers on the grave where her son lay
And knelt on the grass for awhile for to pray.
She sees her son's death as a waste of a good young life
He never had the chance to make the young woman he loved his wife
He surely would have made a wonderful dad
One of the joys in life that he never had.
Today had he been alive he'd have been twenty three
Her son was a brave man none braver than he
She wept at his grave whilst through the streets of the town
The patriots did proudly parade up and down.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Scottish Soldier
There was a young Scottish soldier
of the Highlanders Brigade
his Black Watch Regiment
marched through the night’s thunderstorm
to battle the Boers at Magersfontein
They were waiting in the trenches
when the Black Watch deploy into
open order march for the dawn assault
At four hundred yards the Boers open fire
and caught the column changing formation
killing Scottish soldiers left right and center
The young Scottish soldier badly wounded
scared to lift his body and head
lying on the veld tormented
by ants thirst and scorching sun
blisters on his legs from kilt
to stockings...
In mid-afternoon the Highlanders broke
and retreat under heavy fire
The young soldier then died
under the African sun...
one of 279 killed and wounded
A black day for the British Empire
and the young Scottish soldier...
from the Black Watch Regiment!
Copyright©JohanJ
poem by Johan Jacobs
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And Will You Love Her Again?
yes
and why do you say yes? because my arms and hands are ready
ready for what? for my lips
what do you mean? i have prepared myself how to hug and touch and kiss her
again
a dark night, a room, a candle, a glass of wine,
a cell phone turned off, and silence
this is
it, yes, the two of you again meeting
and did you taste her again? oh yes, i tasted her again my tongue is hardheaded
and how did she taste like? still sweet, sweeter than before
was she beautiful? more beautiful than ever
how did you know? she was naked
is beauty being naked? yes, someone beautiful must be naked before me
and silent and quite and private
she is still my sorrow and i know what i have at the end are still tears
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Soldier's Song
Smoke was slowly rising as the night began to fade,
There were fires on the sky line from some distant born array,
I was riding out at 17 to join my first brigade,
Many years ago.
And I chanced upon a farm house where the woman took me in,
She gave me food and wine, she gave me shelter from the wind,
She delayed me from my regiment, and service of my King,
Many years ago.
She said "Soldier, before I lose you to the fight,
Oh my soldier, I'll make a man of you tonight"
She took me over, in the fading fire glow,
On that wild and misty night she was my woman.
When I rose next morning I was gone before she stirred,
Tore myself away from there and left without a word,
Sound of distant infantry was the only thing I heard,
On that morning.
And in that day I aged 10 years and died a thousand deaths,
I learned the feel of frozen steal and fear within my breast,
But the lesson I remember 'til they laided me to my rest,
Keeps returning.
She said "Soldier, before I lose you to the fight,
Oh my soldier, I'll make a man of you tonight"
She took me over, in the fading fire glow,
On that wild and misty night she was my woman.
And when the dice of war was thrown, and victory was won,
My drunken young compatriots went out to have their fun,
And there was no single house they did not burn or over run,
On that evening.
And I rode out to that place again as hard as I could ride,
but I found her by the trail on the lonely mountain side,
In the hands of those brave friends of mine she suffered and she died,
Many years ago.
"Soldier, before I lose you to the fight,
Oh my soldier, I'll make a man of you tonight"
She took me over, in the fading fire glow,
On that wild and misty night she was my woman.
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I Was Young
(e. burdon, d. briggs)
Producer: carter
Album: the collected recordings (94), private dancer emi centenary edition (96)
B-side of the better be good to me single
The rooms were so much colder then
My father was a soldier then
The times were very hard
When I was young
When I was young
I smoked my first cigarette at ten
And for boys I had a bad yen
I had quite a ball
When I was young
When I was young
When I was young it was more important
Pain more painful, the laughter much louder, yeah
When I was young
When I was young
I met my first love at thirteen
He was brown, and I was pretty green
I learned quite a lot
When I was young
When I was young
When I was young it was more important
Pain more painful, the laughter much louder, yeah
When I was young
My faith was so much stronger then
I believed in fellow men
I was so much older then
When I was young
When I was young
When I was young
song performed by by Tina Turner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young, Dumb and Beautiful
Young, dumb and beautiful
She is everything I need
Young, dumb and beautiful
She means the world to me
Young, dumb and beautiful
A flower for the world to see
Young, dumb and beautiful
So glad she loves me
I used to stare into her eye's in awe
The passion we shared made my heart fall
I hope she knows she means the world to me
Never thought someone so beautiful would ever love me
So many countless nights I yearned for true love
Prayed for God to send me an angel from above
Now I know that some prayers come true
Because every morning when I wake its next to you
Young, dumb and beautiful
Thank you for being mine
Young, dumb and beautiful
A love to grow with time
As I hold your hand down this bright road.
Gonna tell you something that Ive never told.
Want you to know I love you so.
Let us share our hearts forever more.
Young, dumb and beautiful
Blow a kiss into the breeze
Young, dumb and beautiful
She's brought me to my knee's
poem by Lance Carthen
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Her Beautiful Face
' HER BEAUTIFUL FACE'
The first time that he saw her it was her beautiful face,
He fell in love at first glance though he was very young
He spoke to her and found out that she was beautiful within,
A friend he had made for life with that beautiful face,
So slim and innocent the girl with the beautiful face,
She gave him three wonderful children the girl with the beautiful face,
As years went on she became the sole love of his life,
A wonderful Mother was the girl with the beautiful face,
Grandchildren were so deserved for the girl with the beautiful face,
As he took his last few breaths in life, the last thing he saw was her oh so beautiful face.
Dave Bennett
poem by David Bennett
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When We Were Young
When we were young
we thought we were immortal.
We played at recess, and after
school, ran all the way home.
Barefooted, we moved over
rocks and sticks.
The only stop was at the bakery
and since we were children
we got fresh bread for less.
When we were young
there were no cell phones.
We lived in a rural district,
there were no phones at all,
except the ones we made,
out of empty milk cans
and a piece of cord.
When we were young
we made cars
out of sardine tins
and before we played house,
underneath the cellar,
we carried water in pans.
When we were young
nothing scared us,
besides the reflections
on the banana trees,
on the way to the out-house,
on a dim-lit night.
poem by Buxton Shippy
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