Sonnet LXIII: Inclusiveness
The changing guests, each in a different mood,
Sit at the roadside table and arise:
And every life among them in like wise
Is a soul's board set daily with new food.
What man has bent o'er his son's sleep, to brood
How that face shall watch his when cold it lies?—
Or thought, as his own mother kissed his eyes,
Of what her kiss was when his father wooed?
May not this ancient room thou sitt'st in dwell
In separate living souls for joy or pain?
Nay, all its corners may be painted plain
Where Heaven shows pictures of some life spent well;
And may be stamped, a memory all in vain,
Upon the sight of lidless eyes in Hell.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Ere Sleep Comes Down To Soothe The Weary Eyes
ERE sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
Which all the day with ceaseless care have sought
The magic gold which from the seeker flies;
Ere dreams put on the gown and cap of thought,
And make the waking world a world of lies, —
Of lies most palpable, uncouth, forlorn,
That say life's full of aches and tears and sighs, —
Oh, how with more than dreams the soul is torn,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
How all the griefs and heartaches we have known
Come up like pois'nous vapors that arise
From some base witch's caldron, when the crone
To work some potent spell, her magic plies.
The past which held its share of bitter pain,
Whose ghost we prayed that Time might exorcise,
Comes up, is lived and suffered o'er again,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
What phantoms fill the dimly lighted room;
What ghostly shades in awe-creating guise
Are bodied forth within the teeming gloom.
What echoes faint of sad and soul-sick cries,
And pangs of vague inexplicable pain
That pay the spirit's ceaseless enterprise,
Come thronging through the chambers of the brain,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
Where ranges forth the spirit far and free?
Through what strange realms and unfamiliar skies
Tends her far course to lands of mystery?
To lands unspeakable — beyond surmise,
Where shapes unknowable to being spring,
Till, faint of wing, the Fancy fails and dies
Much wearied with the spirit's journeying,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
How questioneth the soul that other soul, —
The inner sense which neither cheats nor lies,
But self exposes unto self, a scroll
Full writ with all life's acts unwise or wise,
In characters indelible and known;
So, trembling with the shock of sad surprise,
The soul doth view its awful self alone,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
When sleep comes down to seal the weary eyes,
The last dear sleep whose soft embrace is balm,
And whom sad sorrow teaches us to prize
For kissing all our passions into calm,
Ah, then, no more we heed the sad world's cries,
Or seek to probe th' eternal mystery,
Or fret our souls at long-withheld replies,
At glooms through which our visions cannot see,
When sleep comes down to seal the weary eyes.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Hymn to Physical Pain
Dread Mother of Forgetfulness
Who, when Thy reign begins,
Wipest away the Soul's distress,
And memory of her sins.
The trusty Worm that dieth not--
The steadfast Fire also,
By Thy contrivance are forgot
In a completer woe.
Thine are the lidless eyes of night
That stare upon our tears,
Through certain hours which in our sight
Exceed a thousand years:
Thine is the thickness of the Dark
That presses in our pain,
As Thine the Dawn that bids us mark
Life's grinning face again.
Thine is the weariness outworn
No promise shall relieve,
That says at eve, "Would God 'twere morn"
At morn, "Would God 'twere eve!"
And when Thy tender mercies cease
And life unvexed is due,
Instant upon the false release
The Worm and Fire renew.
Wherefore we praise Thee in the deep,
And on our beds we pray
For Thy return that Thou may'st keep
The Pains of Hell at bay!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Hymn to Physical Pain
Dread Mother of Forgetfulness
Who, when Thy reign begins,
Wipest away the Soul's distress,
And memory of her sins.
The trusty Worm that dieth not--
The steadfast Fire also,
By Thy contrivance are forgot
In a completer woe.
Thine are the lidless eyes of night
That stare upon our tears,
Through certain hours which in our sight
Exceed a thousand years:
Thine is the thickness of the Dark
That presses in our pain,
As Thine the Dawn that bids us mark
Life's grinning face again.
Thine is the weariness outworn
No promise shall relieve,
That says at eve, "Would God 'twere morn"
At morn, "Would God 'twere eve!"
And when Thy tender mercies cease
And life unvexed is due,
Instant upon the false release
The Worm and Fire renew.
Wherefore we praise Thee in the deep,
And on our beds we pray
For Thy return that Thou may'st keep
The Pains of Hell at bay!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Mother's Loss
If I could clasp my little babe
Upon my breast to-night,
I would not mind the blowing wind
That shrieketh in affright.
Oh, my lost babe! my little babe,
My babe with dreamful eyes;
Thy bed is cold; and night wind bold
Shrieks woeful lullabies.
My breast is softer than the sod;
This room, with lighter hearth,
Is better place for thy sweet face
Than frozen mother eatrth.
Oh, my babe! oh, my lost babe!
Oh, babe with waxen hands,
I want thee so, I need thee so -
Come from thy mystic lands!
No love that, like a mother's fills
Each corner of the heart;
No loss like hers, that rends, and chills,
And tears the soul apart.
Oh, babe - my babe, my helpless babe!
I miss thy little form.
Would I might creep where thou dost sleep,
And clasp thee through the storm.
I hold thy pillow to my breast,
To bring a vague relief;
I sing the songs that soothed thy rest -
Ah me! no cheating grief.
My breathing babe! my sobbing babe!
I miss thy plaintive moan,
I cannot hear - thou art not near -
My little one, my own.
Thy father sleeps. He mourns thy loss,
But little fathers know
The pain that makes a mother toss
Through sleepless nights of woe.
My clinging babe! my nursing babe!
What knows thy father - man -
How my breasts miss thy lips' soft kiss -
None but a mother can.
Worn out, I sleep; I wake - I weep -
I sleep - hush, hush, my dear;
Sweet lamb, fear not - Oh, God! I thought -
I thought my babe was here.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Orphan
MY father and mother are dead,
Nor friend, nor relation I know;
And now the cold earth is their bed,
And daisies will over them grow.
I cast my eyes into the tomb,
The sight made me bitterly cry;
I said, 'And is this the dark room,
Where my father and mother must lie?'
I cast my eyes round me again,
In hopes some protector to see;
Alas! but the search was in vain,
For none had compassion on me.
I cast my eyes up to the sky,
I groan'd, though I said not a word;
Yet GOD was not deaf to my cry,
The Friend of the fatherless heard.
For since I have trusted his care,
And learn'd on his word to depend,
He has kept me from every snare,
And been my best Father and Friend.
poem by Ann Taylor
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Those Words Were Uttered As In Pensive Mood
THOSE words were uttered as in pensive mood
We turned, departing from that solemn sight:
A contrast and reproach to gross delight,
And life's unspiritual pleasures daily wooed!
But now upon this thought I cannot brood;
It is unstable as a dream of night;
Nor will I praise a cloud, however bright,
Disparaging Man's gifts, and proper food.
Grove, isle, with every shape of sky-built dome,
Though clad in colours beautiful and pure,
Find in the heart of man no natural home:
The immortal Mind craves objects that endure:
These cleave to it; from these it cannot roam,
Nor they from it: their fellowship is secure.
poem by William Wordsworth
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Jesus To Child
Kindness in your eyes
I guess you heard me cry
You smiled at me
Like Jesus to a child
I'm blessed, I know
Heaven sent and heaven stole
You smiled at me
Like Jesus to a child
And what have I learned
>From all this pain?
I thought I'd never feel the same
About anyone
Or anything again
But now I know
When you find love
When you know that it exists
Then the lover that you miss
Will come to you
On those cold, cold nights
When you've been loved
When you know it holds such bliss
Then the lover that you kissed
Will comfort you
When there's no hope in sight
Sadness in your eyes
No one guessed, or no one tried
You smiled at me
Like Jesus to a child
Loveless and cold
With your last breath you saved my soul
You smiled at me
Like Jesus to a child
And what have I learned
>From all these
I've waited for you all those years
And just when it began
He took your love away
But I still say
When you find love
When you know that it exists
Then the lover that you miss
Will come to you
On those cold, cold nights
When you've been loved
When you know it holds such bliss
Then the lover that you kissed
Will comfort you
When there's no hope in sight
So the words you could not say
I'll sing them for you
And the love we would have made
I'll make it for two
For every single memory
Has become a part of me
You will always be
My love
Well, I've been loved
So I know just what love is
And the lover that I kissed
Is always by my side
Oh the lover I still miss
Was Jesus to a child
song performed by by George Michael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Right Before Your Eyes
When the door shuts
Don't worry about me
Its not attention that I want from you
I need you to trust who I'm gonna be
And in everything I'm going to do
Cause I'm not afraid
Of what I don't know
For understanding is all that I earn
What is for sure is I'm gonna to go
I'm gonna to live and I'm going to learn
And I know there will be mistakes that I will make
But I know they're not worse than chances I don't take, take
Right before your eyes I am changing, changing
New life on the inside I am changing, changing
When the door shuts
Its shuts in front of me
A new person that I have become
I follow my heart to my destiny
But living in fear and sorrow is done
There will be no more feeling that I'm all alone
I will surround myself with things that help me grow, grow
Right before your eyes I am changing, changing
New life on the inside I am changing, changing
Right before your eyes I am changing, changing
New life on the inside I am changing, changing
Right before your eyes I am changing, changing
New life on the inside I am changing, changing
Right before your eyes
Right before your eyes
song performed by by Hoobastank
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Final Destination
There is one thought upon which I constantly dwell
With that one thought I get sick and my face turns pale
Upon my life salvation will I win, or or am I destined to fail
So I wonder if I am going to Heaven, or am I going to Hell.
Never upon my back was a sign saying this soul is for sale
No man truly knows of my sorrows, or of my life's tale
So out of confusion and query this question to GOD I must yell
Am I going to Heaven, or am I going to Hell.
One day alone, I know I will walk upon deaths trail
Then I will meet death, and I will pull aside its dark veil
It will only take my soul, as the body is but a shell
So I wonder will I be going to Heaven, or will I be going to Hell.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Melancholy Mood
A little collie weed to ease I grief
too much agony living in the limits of big city
a little collie weed to meditate
too much insanity in this society
melancholy mood I eat for my food melancholy mood
rise this morning smile with the sun
oh I'm blessed another day has begun
everything in life has its purpose
find its reason it has its season
melancholy mood I eat for my food melancholy mood
tears leave my eyes I just want to fly
deep down I feel pain
but I know I must rise again
from this melancholy mood melancholy mood
melancholy mood I eat for my food melancholy mood
song performed by by Ziggy Marley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Mother Looked
You want to look how Mother looked.
Makeup she used to use lies on her
Dressing table in the room father has
Had locked up. You have secreted the
Key and unlocked and closing the door,
Are sitting facing your image in the mirror’s
Glass you’ve propped against a chair. You
Do not have your mother’s hair. You have
Her eyes, Father said, although he says it
Less now since her death, as if stealing
From the dead. You want to transform
Yourself into her; be the woman she was;
Have her beauty; have her smile; her gentle
Manner. Cancer took her like thief at night;
Reduced her to a bag of bones and hanging
Skin, pale and thin. Forget that image, Father
Chides, cast it away, lock behind the mind’s
Dark doors. You want to look how Mother
Looked before her sad demise, before cold
Cancer’s deceit and lies. Still a child, Father
Says, you have all your life to live; leave your
Grief behind, but you want to be as Mother
Was, like the coloured picture in your mind.
poem by Terry Collett
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Aftermath
Windows in a silent room , sunlight burns the walls to black
Angles and dimensions melt while colors drip and pillows crack
Reflections of my memories like pictures pasted on a sheet
The ribbon film of separate frames lying curled up at my feet
The film is just a snake design and the photographs are fading fast
These are not memories of mine I have no future, no past
I've seen a thousand afternoons dissolve into the night
Like sugar crystals on a spoon they disappear from sight
Gray days from the crispest morning to the warmest afternoon in this room
And I like to draw the face I saw so long ago
My image in the mirror tells the jagged lines which way to go
The black and white description of the sole survivor of the Holocaust
All the rest were lost
Do you see this paper face? It has no color or no mood
My eyes are ageless, as am I. I need no sleep, I need no food
I am a king, but like a child the other children laugh at me
Tongues of fire, wagging wild they dance around me merrily
I'll kill them all and if I fail I'll kill whoever I can find
Then they'll beg me to be kind
My eyes have seen far more than eyes can ever tell
This planet plunged through mushroom fires of earthly hell
I know that my sweet Jesus said that he'd return
But Babylon has fallen and the cities burn
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Clair de Lune
In the moonlit room your face,
Moonlight-coloured, fainting white,
And the silence of the place
Round about us in the night,
And my arms are round about you
In the silence of the night.
Lips that are not mine to kiss,
Lips how often kissed in vain,
Broken seal of memories,
Where the kisses come again
That the lips of all your lovers
Laid upon your lips in vain;
Eyes that are not mine to keep
In the mirror of mine eyes,
Where I tremble lest from sleep
Other ghosts should re-arise;
Why enthrall me with your magic,
Haunting lips, triumphant eyes?
For the silence of the night
Swims around me like a stream,
And your eyes have caught the light
Of a moon-enchanted dream,
And your arms glide round about me,
And I fade into a dream.
poem by Arthur Symons
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To A Child Embracing His Mother
Love thy mother, little one!
Kiss and clasp her neck again,—
Hereafter she may have a son
Will kiss and clasp her neck in vain.
Love thy mother, little one!
Gaze upon her living eyes,
And mirror back her love for thee,—
Hereafter thou mayst shudder sighs
To meet them when they cannot see.
Gaze upon her living eyes!
Press her lips the while they glow
With love that they have often told,—
Hereafter thou mayst press in woe,
And kiss them till thine own are cold.
Press her lips the while they glow!
Oh, revere her raven hair!
Although it be not silver-gray;
Too early Death, led on by Care,
May snatch save one dear lock away.
Oh, revere her raven hair!
Pray for her at eve and morn,
That Heaven may long the stroke defer,—
For thou mayst live the hour forlorn
When thou wilt ask to die with her.
Pray for her at eve and morn!
poem by Thomas Hood
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The Orphan
My father and mother are dead,
Nor friend, nor relation I know;
And now the cold earth is their bed,
And daisies will over them grow.
I cast my eyes into the tomb,
The sight made me bitterly cry;
I said, "And is this the dark room,
Where my father and mother must lie?"
I cast my eyes round me again,
In hopes some protector to see;
Alas! but the search was in vain,
For none had compassion on me.
I cast my eyes up to the sky,
I groan'd, though I said not a word;
Yet GOD was not deaf to my cry,
The Friend of the fatherless heard.
For since I have trusted his care,
And learn'd on his word to depend,
He has kept me from every snare,
And been my best Father and Friend.
poem by Jane Taylor
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By the Wise
Guesses are made perfectly by the wise,
Intrepid adventurers cancel our life
For though thinkers are also thought of,
My guess is also the same perfection.
Guests of some knowledge are bedded in these chambers,
Within those familiar works are the church relics;
We thought and thought over the real church,
Bent on thinking wisely like the guesses of perfection.
Churches stand tall for daily consumption,
Opening their gates once a day, once a night,
Their relief is staggering on the soul,
As you might pray and sleep with the right thoughts.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Relative
Truth is Relative;
True for me is lies for you
In eyes of lies
the truth is bent, but
truth protrudes in tainted folds
of salty tears and painted gold.
Truth for you is a raging sea
of Painted waves; the golden bleeds
Your walls crumble; walls of stone, of
broken souls, tears, labored bones.
Are the lies a shield?
Once again a 'golden' shield
Untill the pain of truth shall yield.
O, savior Truth! O, warrior Truth!
Truth is treaty; a liquid sword
that shatters; breaks; but still remains
the fieds are red, but missing pain.
So ask yourself, 'Are your lies true? '
Did you escape from 'You? '
'Your' eyes see red.
Your eyes see blue.
True for me is lies for you.
No.
Not you; 'You.'
Truth is relative
poem by John Samson
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Life goes on and on and on
Life goes on and on and on
Not all things of life may live
Towards heaven and hell there souls they must give
There are many things we have killed
There is never enough said
And yet the grain of life is still milled
And is still made into our lords daily bread
And the baby’s that where born that day
They will still cry for the mother’s attention
The parents will complain all they may
And yet to family and friends it’s all they will mention
There will always be those that are young
There will always be those of the old
Both have seen many things
But towards the world they eyes will never grow cold
And yet all the time life goes on
No one is strong enough to change it
Because the world is held together by love
And that love is true to one little bit
poem by Daniel Laurence
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Kiss Me Everything! ! !
Kiss me heart and said i'love you.
Kiss me from warm your eyes rays and said all better.
Kiss me from your sweet lips i'was everything.
Kiss me from your desire was embrace by you.i'was passing yearning fogs.
Kiss me with your soft face the angel gave peace on my heart.
Kiss me the rainbow gave the colour to illustrate my dreams.
Kiss me my blue clouds will lie down all tired i'to you.
Kiss me the green leaves penetrating freshness bellows of the heart and mind.
Kiss me the wind-the blowing wind continued the long breath in the life.
Kiss me the wave of the birds wings in the branch, stamped the love and the spirit.
Kiss me the flower and was kissed by me again went through the sun and the rain.
Kiss me the river gave my warm regards to the ocean.
Kiss me the nature said to my heart sweetheart.
I kissed him through all
the life breath in the world.
Dispossessed
this heart sees no hope!
eyes see no water to drink
eyes see no food to eat
eyes owning poverty die daily
die daily deemed dead millions!
lips parch taste no relief water
stomach shrinks tastes no food
eyes cloud see no compassion
misericorde starvation is the mercy stroke!
share surplus resources?
share surplus life food?
or waste surplus drive up prices?
stiletto needle wealth controls markets!
this soul thirsts
this soul hungers
still no place is found
still no place within world to reside!
death abides death abides?
soul cry soul cry soul cry out to heaven?
starvation plea mounts up appeals to throne in heaven?
the poor are always with us condemning indifference!
poem by Terence George Craddock
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