Simeon
Yes, I know his new poems;
all Beirut is raving about them.
I'll study them some other day.
I can't today because I'm rather upset.
Certainly he's more learned in Greek than Libanius.
A better poet than Meleager though? I wouldn't say so.
But Mebis, why talk about Libanius
and books and all these trivialities?
Mebis, yesterday (it happened by chance)
I found myself under Simeon's pillar.
I slipped in among the Christians
praying and worshipping in silence there,
revering him. Not being a Christian myself
I couldn't share their spiritual peace-
I trembled all over and suffered;
I shuddered, disturbed, completely caught up.
Please don't smile; for thirty-five years -think of it-
winter and summer, night and day, for thirty-five years
he's been living, suffering, on top of a pillar.
Before either of us was born (I'm twenty-nine,
you must be younger than me),
before we were born, just imagine it,
Simeon climbed up his pillar
and has stayed there ever since facing God.
I'm in no mood for work today-
but Mebis, I think it better that you tell them this:
whatever the other sophists may say,
I at least recognize Lamon
as Syria's leading poet.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Related quotes
My Twenty Lines
I just read this poem about using just twenty lines,
and it brought these words to my mind.
Who are they to tell us how many lines we should use to speak?
This is America where we have a law known as freedom of speech.
Just twenty lines tell you something about my life in words.
To me that seem completely absurd.
My life is much more than just twenty lines.
Hell I am thirty nine.
And if they except me to sum up thirty nine years in twenty lines
They are complete outside their minds.
How am I suppose to tell you how I nearly died when I was child?
Or how my mother harsh words took away my smile:
In just twenty lines?
Like I said they must be out of their minds.
I guest I can do if I shorten my life.
I don't have to talk about how much I love my future wife.
But her love is the inspiration for a lot of my poems.
So to not talk about her would be wrong.
I have a lot more to say but I'm out of time.
I reach my limit of my twenty lines.
Ten Grey hairs and a silver one
I discovered my first grey hair
when I was Seventeen years old
It had to do with broken up my first relationship
I discovered my second grey hair
when I was Twenty years old
It had to do with the quarrels at home
I discovered my third grey hair
when I was Twenty-one years old
It had to do with searching for work
I discovered my fourth grey hair
when I was Twenty-three years old
It had to do with loosing my job
I discovered my fifth grey hair
when I was Twenty-five years old
It had to do with giving up my unborn child
I discovered my sixth grey hair
When I was Twenty-eight years old
It had to do with opening my pub
I discovered my seventh grey hair
When I was thirty years old
It had to do with giving birth to my daughter
I discovered my eight grey hair
When I was thirty –two years old
It had to do with the first day at the kinder garden school
I discovered my ninth grey hair
When I was thirty-four years old
It had to do with to find out that some thing was missing
I discovered my tenth grey hair
When I was thirty-five years old
It had to do with the fights between my sisters and mum
My one Silver hair I discovered lately
Has to do with you
Because I miss you so hard …
poem by Pascale Ost
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My Next Thirty Years
(track 12 - time 3:37)
(phil vassar)
I think Ill take a moment, celebrate my age
The ending of an era and the turning of a page
Now its time to focus in on where I go from here
Lord have mercy on my next thirty years
Hey my next thirty years Im gonna have some fun
Try to forget about all the crazy things Ive done
Maybe now Ive conquered all my adolescent fears
And Ill do it better in my next thirty years
My next thirty years Im gonna settle all the scores
Cry a little less, laugh a little more
Find a world of happiness without the hate and fear
Figure out just what Im doing here
In my next thirty years
Oh my next thirty years, Im gonna watch my weight
Eat a few more salads and not stay up so late
Drink a little lemonade and not so many beers
Maybe Ill remember my next thirty years
My next thirty years will be the best years of my life
Raise a little family and hang out with my wife
Spend precious moments with the ones that I hold dear
Make up for lost time here, in my next thirty years
In my next thirty years
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today... 'The Consolation of Israel
It was a busy world at Your nativity
People were too busy to even stop and see
As into the temple Your family had come
In obedience to the law and Jewish custom
The glory of the Lord was present there that day
In that building composed of earthly stone and clay
The same glory that appeared in Solomon's reign
Was present as God entered His temple again
Simeon and Anna were also present there
And in prophecy they both began to declare
That Child in their arms was the promised Holy one
Born of God, His One and Only Belovéd Son
In wonder Simeon in his arms held his Lord
And began speaking out loud God's prophetic word
And Anna also join in with him to proclaim
These things happened when to His temple Jesus came
The Holy Spirit entered Simeon that day
Causing him to cry out with prophecy and say
'Behold the Consolation of Israel' he cried
He'd been told he would see Jesus before he died
This Consolation of Israel was to be seen
Just as the prophets of old said it would have been
But just Simeon and Anna saw the real glory
Of this momentous occasion in history
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
The Pillar Box
The pillar box is fat and red,
The pillar box is high;
It has the flattest sort of head
And not a nose or eye,
But just one open nigger mouth
That grins when I go by.
The pillar box is very round
But hungry all the day;
Although it doesn't make a sound,
Folks know it wants to say,
"Give me some letter sandwiches
To pass the time away."
"A postage stamp I like to eat
Or gummy letterette."
I see the people on the street,
If it is fine or wet,
Give something to the greedy thing;
They never quite forget.
The pillar box is quite a friend;
When Father goes away
My Mother has such lots to send,
Far letters every day,
And so I drop them in its mouth
When I go out to play.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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To Mrs. Thrale on Her Completing Her Thirty-fifth Year
Oft in danger, yet alive,
We are come to thirty-five;
Long may better years arrive,
Better years than thirty-five.
Could philosophers contrive
Life to stop at thirty-five,
Time his hours should never drive
O'er the bounds of thirty-five
High to soar, and deep to dive,
Nature gives at thirty-five.
Ladies, stop and tend your hive,
Trifle not at thirty-five;
For, howe'er we boast and strive,
Life declines from thirty-five:
He that ever hopes to thrive
Must begin by thirty-five:
And all who wisely wish to wive
Must look on Thrale at thirty-five.
poem by Samuel Johnson
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The Date Of Christmas DaY
The Date Of Christmas DaY
A.D.Four plus thirty-three= A.D.Thirty-seven.
The millineum year Two Thousand Thirty Seven has not yet occured.
Inn mye humble opinion never will it ever bee.
Iff Christ was born in September Thirty-Seven,
we should have Christmas on September Three.
December TwentY-fifth is the dead works day of druids.
They still dance the maypole day in May.
May ONE could be the birthday of GODS son.
The time is tricky anyway after more than a few years.
Everything gets blurry after way too many beers.
The moral of this story just accept that it was done.
This Christmas try to worship on December Twenty-One.
Drink less eggnogg and have more FUN.
On this millineum day in Nineteen Fifty-Four;
Eye was not yet one year Young.
poem by Charles Hice
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The Pillars Of Our Society
see the pillars of our society.
the church, the provincial and municipal halls,
the university, the house of the family,
try to hold these pillars and feel their
strength and width, you think that they are
too strong to protect you
try piercing each pillar with the questions
deep from your heart
ask if they are that strong to make you
strong too
and protect you till the last breath
of your suffering and pain
ask more questions and find out the answers
from all these pillars
lean on them, and touch them and
shoot them with the bullets of your
quizzical looks
listen carefully to the correct answers
and stare at all of them
slowly, these pillars will crumble
and turn to powder for in truth there is no
other pillar stronger than what
they have constructed for you through all these years
except the pillar that your body built
on your legs from the bottom of your feet
it is you ultimately that you can only lean on
you to protect you
till the last breath of you is finally taken away.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Today; Tomorrow
Today
It’s been five years since I have heard your voice.
Today
It’s been five years since I have heard your laugh.
Today
It’s been five years since I have seen your smile.
Today
Is the saddest day for me.
Today
I still remember like it was yesterday.
Today
I feel numb just like how I felt five years ago.
Today
I can still remember how I ran and didn’t want to stop.
Today
I still feel the emptiness of knowing I won’t ever see you again.
Today
I try and smile for you knowing that you are watching over me.
Today
I let my tears roll down slowly down my cheeks.
Today
I remember how you were so happy to be home.
Today
I still know that you didn’t have to suffer no more.
Today
I still try hard not to blame myself why you left my world.
Today
I sit here and remember the memories I have of you.
But tomorrow
I will still smile for you.
poem by Kimberly Santistevan
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I Am A Poet
Iam a poet
ı was born a poet
ı feel that frommy childhood
why the storks
chatter on the chimneys
and nest there
their young beak black
their eggs catch cold in winter
ı am a poet
but sometimes ı am misunderstood
that upsets me
very
sometimes people scold me
why the hell you look at me
strangely
they say
do ı resemble someone
do you recognise me
ı am just a poet
ı cannot say
ı s ı t my fault
to be born poet
ı wanna write a poem about you
so ı look and try to understand
your attitude
why does this bother you
ı was born so
ı watch a little child
leaving her mother
throwing herself to the water shower
in the pool in spring
then ı ask the child to return to mother
cause she is looking eagerly looking AFTER
does not like a stranger
she does not know what a poet is too
and lives plain and direct
ı am a poet
ı wish
ı were not born so
ı long for a humble and simple life
living may be in poverty
cause understands me nobody
even the closest around me
poem by Metin Sahin
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Shaved
He had wore a beard every since his early teens.
It had been at least thirty years since anyone saw him without it.
For those thirty years he felt he had something to hide.
But yesterday he shaved and freed himself from the thirty year mask he had been wearing.
He said it feels good to no longer have that itchy heavy beard weighing him down.
Yesterday he shaved when he finally told everyone he is gay.
Thirty Ninth Lash Of The Whip
They tied Him on a pillar
As if He would try to escape
His destiny foretold before birth
They tore off His clothes, took His cape.
The whip used on Him, a flagellum
Had leather strips attached for greater cruelty
The ends had bits of bone, pieces of chain
Perhaps to ensure - the prisoner had more pain.
Now as the Roman lictor moved back
Six feet away for more impact
Spread his legs and with all his might
Hit the flagellum on the God of Light.
The strips curled around His body
Then little bits of His flesh were shed,
Bleeding from the cuts of metal and bone
The Son of God, in silent cry, was alone.
Thirty-nine lashes were thus received.
He suffered the stripes of pain for no crime
Thirty-nine illnesses to be healed of Man
The last disease... has arrived in our time.
Thirty nine illnesses that plague us now
Have been laid upon Him, the Lamb of God!
It was for our healing He bore them in Love
Suffered as a man, with all the Divinity He had.
That thirty ninth lash, for the most pain He paid
Hit hard as His Body laid bare bleeding
The thirty ninth disease, it is HIV/AIDS
A disease of the soul that denies God is judging.
'Sure ly He took our infirmities
and carried our sorrows,
yet we considered Him stricken by God,
smitten by Him, and afflicted.
But He was pierced for our transgressions,
He was crushed for our iniquities,
the punishment that brought us peace
was upon Him,
and by His wounds we are healed.'
ISAIAH 53: 4-5
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Always And Forever
hoo.com
I CANT REMEMBER WHEN YOU WERENT THERE
WHEN I DIDNT CARE FOR ANYONE BUT YOU.
AND I SWEAR WEVE BEEN THROUGH EVERY THING THERE IS
CANT IMAGINE ANYTHING WE MISSED
CANT IMAGINE ANYTHING THE TWO OF US CANT DO.
THROUGH THE YEARS
YOUVE NEVER LET ME DOWN
YOUVE TURNED MY LIFE AROUND
THE SWEETEST DAYS IVE FOUND
I FOUND WITH YOU
THROUGH THE YEARS.
IVE NEVER BEEN AFRAID
I LOVE THE LIFE WEVE MADE,
AND IM SO GLAD I STAYED, RIGHT HERE WITH YOU,
THROUGH THE YEARS.
I CANT REMEMBER, WHAT I USED TO DO
WHO I TRUSTED WHOM ID LISTEN TO BEFORE
I SWEAR, YOU TAUGHT ME EVERYTHING I KNOW
CANT IMAGINE NEEDING SOMEONE SO
THROUGH THE YEARS, IT SEEMS TO ME
I NEED YOU MORE AND MORE,
THROUGH THE YEARS,
THROUGH ALL THE GOOD AND BAD,
I KNOW HOW MUCH WE HAD.
IVE ALWAYS BEEN SO GLAD, TO BE WITH YOU
THROUGH THE YEARS, ITS BETTER EVERYDAY YOUVE KISSED MY TEARS AWAY,
AS LONG AS ITS OK, ILL STAY WITH YOU THROUGH THE YEARS
THROUGH THE YEARS, WHEN EVERYTHING WENT WRONG,
TOGETHER WE WERE STRONG
I KNOW THAT I BELONG RIGHT HERE WITH YOU THROUGH THE YEARS,
I NEVER HAD A DOUBT,
WED ALWAYS WORK THINGS OUT.
IVE LEARNED WHAT LIFES ABOUT,
BY LOVING YOU,
THROUGH THE YEARS
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Syrian Christians Minority Psychology
meanwhile in conflict Syria
Wall Street Journal reports
Christians arm themselves?
but few Christians openly sided
with Bashar al-Assad's regime
as ethnic Syrian Alawites did?
most wise Syrian Christians
have stayed completely silent
due to feared post-Assad era?
Syrian Christians fear Muslim
Brotherhood or Salafi policies in
splinter chaotic post al-Assad era?
Christians afraid fear facing same
scenario as invaded Iraqis faced...
in 2003 post US military invasion?
Christians fear their communities
caught in crossfire will be devastated
by power struggle sectarian groups?
Christians in neighboring Iraq
suffered greatly in sectarian wars
during power struggle past decade?
Christians since beginning of uprisings
consistently acted with minority psychology
an attitude of Christian passive neutrality?
in attempt overthrow of Syrian President
Bashar al-Assad Christian exclusion...
from revolution uprisings was because?
the Syrian Church warned Christians
not to participate in revolution uprisings
yet Syrian church leaders fear prospect
of an Islamic fundamentalist
future takeover in Syria represents
a greater danger to Christians?
than continuation of current President
Bashar al-Assad's administration
because during Assad era Christians
faced no real policy secular difficulty
in practicing their religion difficulties...
occur in control by a dictator regime?
Assad's regime practiced
rigid precise secular ideology
which afforded minorities
a known measure of protection
world politics now considers
broader regional implications?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Echo Of A Poet
'Always speak your mind and stick to what you think is the truth'... Time will one day vindicate you completely!
My actions throughout times clearly show who I am.
My muted written words give me away
And the Mask I am wearing today
Is the only one protecting my sanity and calm
This is the same mask I was born with one day
And is carrying my unique slogan that says:
' Love and Peace for always!
A phrase stamped yesterday
And still fully alive today,
Remaining so until I am forever away!
This is the soulful echo of a poet!
©All Rights Reserved-2011
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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Today is better than Yesterday
Yesterday
Yesterday, I was running with to feet
Yesterday, I was playing with kids
Yesterday, I was kicking the ball
Yesterday, I had it all, all was mine.
Yesterday, I was growing well,
Yesterday, I had it all undercover
Yesterday was my day
Yesterday, my days were
Yesterday, I had a lover, ‘true lover’
Yesterday, promises were made
Yesterday, promises were not kept
Yesterday, I was happy.
Yesterday, I gave him everything
Yesterday, I sacrificed everything
Yesterday, I was a fool
Yesterday, I was dying
Today
Today, I am lying in bed
Today, I am watching hopeless kids
Today, I can hardly move
Today, everything is falling
Today, I am dying in bed
Today, it is all wrong
Today, is not my day
Today, my days are not
Today, I have no one
Today, promises are broken
Today, promises are not
Today, I have no hope
Today, I long for myself
Today, I cry over spilled milk
Today, I am wise
Today, I live
Whatever happened yesterday is not
Whatever was, is not
Whatever was broken can be fixed
Whatever wound are, can be healed
Just need the Perfect Healer
Jesus I know you are! ! !
poem by Sbonelo C Ngcobo
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Happy Birthday Love
For my wife who is -? Today
Today is your birthday
and you are telling everyone
that you are twenty-one years young.
The children don’t believe it
as it makes you younger that them.
When you tell them they say,
“In your dreams, mum.”
However, having said that
you are twenty-one to me
still filled with love and vitality.
We’re still young as when we fell in love
and today is your birthday.
You are sure to have a good one
surrounded by friends and family.
That is all I have to say except
Happy Birthday Love,
have a wonderful day.
Your loving husband David,
the one born down on the funny farm.
8 March 2008
poem by David Harris
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What They Will Say
Some times, I wonder if I write for the future.
That may seem like a strange statement to make.
Forty-three years ago, I wrote a poem
that at the time no one wanted to know.
Now it is my best-loved poem
read by countless people around the world.
Thirty years ago, I wrote two poems
and each one won me an award,
but at the time I wrote them,
no one wanted to know.
All of which makes me wonder
if what I wrote in my yesteryears
that then none wanted to know.
Could they all be popular now?
Today I started collecting and retyping
short stories I wrote twenty years ago.
At the time, publishers and agents
didn’t want to know.
Now twenty year on
I am wondering what they will say.
24 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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11.11.11
Today is the 11th of November 2011!
And, you were born at 11: 11 A.M.27 years ago! !
However, the kiss of your lips with my muse was like,
The sweet muse of love and care in the land of beauty!
For, you are all that i need.
At 11: 11 P.M. i found your nakedness to the world so sweet!
And like the words of love to satisfy my muse in the land of beautiful roses;
But, i have a lot to learn from you as well,
Because, you are 27 years old today and,
You are a virgin! !
You were born 27 years ago but,
The sweet love of your muse came and touched my heart!
And, you will always remember my kiss;
For, this love is all about you and i! !
And like words of peace in the land of unity,
For, i am always ready fro your love.
11.11.11!
And like the date reserved for many Germans to marry;
But all over the world are the works and words of love to move us on,
For, you are like the words so sweet to touch my lips!
And i will always remember you because, you were born on this day.
You came into this world 27 years ago in the land of survival! !
Naked to the world to respect your muse;
But, the joy of your birth had brought peace to your culture,
For, you have really made a mark to respect my muse.
You were born on the 11th of November 1984,
And today, you are 27 years olf to respect the muse of love;
But your first kiss came along like the works of peace,
Because, you waited for it for a very long time! !
And today, you are ready for marriage;
But, try to keep your virginity for the man of your heart.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Today...
Today, the leaves were greener
Today, the sky wasn’t grey
Today, the sun was brighter
Yes, it changed today
Today, people transformed
Today, they weren’t rude
Today, I felt loved
All just today, it’s true
Today, I lived for today
Today, was not for the future
Today, was a great day
Not menial, tiring, brutal
Today, I laughed in silence
Today didn’t make me cry
Today, everything became clearer
But, today, I couldn’t figure out why
And today, if everything changed
And today, if it wasn’t a dream
I don’t know what happened
But today will become everyday, it seems.
poem by Shreya Madhogarhia
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