I Find No Peace
I find no peace, and all my war is done.
I fear and hope. I burn and freeze like ice.
I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise;
And nought I have, and all the world I season.
That loseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison
And holdeth me not-yet can I scape no wise-
Nor letteth me live nor die at my device,
And yet of death it giveth me occasion.
Without eyen I see, and without tongue I plain.
I desire to perish, and yet I ask health.
I love another, and thus I hate myself.
I feed me in sorrow and laugh in all my pain;
Likewise displeaseth me both life and death,
And my delight is causer of this strife.
poem by David McKee Wright
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Related quotes
I Find No Peace
I find no peace, and all my war is done.
I fear and hope. I burn and freeze like ice.
I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise;
And nought I have, and all the world I season.
That loseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison
And holdeth me not--yet can I scape no wise--
Nor letteth me live nor die at my device,
And yet of death it giveth me occasion.
Without eyen I see, and without tongue I plain.
I desire to perish, and yet I ask health.
I love another, and thus I hate myself.
I feed me in sorrow and laugh in all my pain;
Likewise displeaseth me both life and death,
And my delight is causer of this strife.
poem by Sir Thomas Wyatt
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Sonnet 134
I FIND no peace, and all my war is done;
I fear and hope; I burn and freeze like ice;
I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise;
And nought I have, and all the world I seize on;
That looseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison
And holdeth me not, yet can I 'scape nowise;
Nor letteth me live nor die at my device, [by my own choice]
And yet of death it giveth none occasion.
Withouten eyen, I see; and without tongue I plain; [lament]
I desire to perish, and yet I ask health;
I love another, and thus I hate myself;
I feed me in sorrow, and laugh in all my pain;
Likewise displeaseth me both death and life;
And my delight is causer of this strife.
poem by Petrarch, translated by Thomas Wyatt
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Freedom from strife
Rivers of molten lava
Fresh hot salty tears
Lay to rest my worries
A mountain of dead fish
Kill all the prejudice
Lie your way through my trust
Battle all the bad
The goods already gone
Claim all the glory
Watch as your life dies
New anxiety a gruesome life
Try to speak out
Silenced by family
What are they for anyway?
Love like no other
Face the bleak slur of our kind
Try to find peace
In this chaotic hell
Live like me
Watch the slander, roll off my back
Crave affection off the dead souls
Wandering the plains after death
Envy those who rest in peace
Hate those who make this life torture
Yearn for life to stop
Cry for the pain to end
Laugh at those who hide their suffering
Desire after that last breath
Spit at those who think you’re weak
Let’s see them do better
Forsaken life
For only in death do we find freedom from strife
poem by Nicky Turner
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What Is Death
death is love,
death is peace,
death is all the non-violent things around you,
death will hunt,
death will kill,
death is a fallin' angel,
death is what you will receive,
death is all around you,
death is love,
death is peace,
death is the killing angel of peace,
death will take every last soul,
death will vanish the day we leave,
you can run but you can from death,
he will find you no matter where you go,
death hunt by fear,
death is love,
death is peace,
death is all round.
poem by Jaqualen Roberts
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My Delight and Thy Delight
My delight and thy delight
Walking, like two angels white,
In the gardens of the night:
My desire and thy desire
Twining to a tongue of fire,
Leaping live, and laughing higher:
Thro' the everlasting strife
In the mystery of life.
Love, from whom the world begun,
Hath the secret of the sun.
Love can tell, and love alone,
Whence the million stars were strewn,
Why each atom knows its own,
How, in spite of woe and death,
Gay is life, and sweet is breath:
This he taught us, this we knew,
Happy in his science true,
Hand in hand as we stood
'Neath the shadows of the wood,
Heart to heart as we lay
In the dawning of the day.
poem by Robert Seymour Bridges
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An Ode To Dying
An ode to dying
by Renee'
As I walk through this Dark Valley
With this never ending pain in my belly
I cry, why?
Why? Why? Why?
I’m lost in this spinning world
I’m so alone
I cry here on my own
I can’t take its highs and lows anymore
This pain and suffering hurts so sore
I don’t want to live no more
No sleep
No food
No! No! No!
I cry, why?
Why? Why? Why?
I just want to die
Die! Die! Die!
No friends
No lovers
No one
No! No! No!
Let me lie in death’s cold bosom
Let me feel death’s dark peace
Please death, give me this release
No more crying
No more tears
No more lies
No more! No more!
Don’t come near
For I’m full of hurt, I fear
I’m full of hate
Don’t come near
I need to walk through death’s door, my dear
No love
No hate
No smiles
Just peace
Oh give me this release
poem by Renee' Stretch
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Elements, Death And Life
Love is like a rose
Rose is the symbol of love
Death is like a wind
wind is the symbol of fading away
Life is like a tree
It grows til it dies
Hate is like a fire
The fire grows intill it hurts somone
The symbol of life is a tree
Trre will burn of hate
The wind blow the hate away
Untill it comes backs
Death is not the opesit of life
Death comes in many natural ways
Like this poem
Like this message
Love is like a drug
You get addicted
You will get burned
At the same time it is good to keep
This love, this hate
The life, the death
Fire, earth, wind and water
Elements of creation
poem by Fabian Blomquist
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All For The Cause
Hear a word, a word in season,
for the day is drawing nigh,
When the Cause shall call upon us,
some to live, and some to die!
He that dies shall not die lonely,
many an one hath gone before;
He that lives shall bear no burden
heavier than the life they bore.
Nothing ancient is their story,
e’en but yesterday they bled,
Youngest they of earth’s beloved,
last of all the valiant dead.
E’en the tidings we are telling,
was the tale they had to tell,
E’en the hope that our hearts cherish,
was the hope for which they fell.
In the grave where tyrants thrust them,
lies their labour and their pain,
But undying from their sorrow
springeth up the hope again.
Mourn not therefore, nor lament it,
that the world outlives their life;
Voice and vision yet they give us,
making strong our hands for strife.
Some had name, and fame, and honour,
learn’d they were, and wise and strong;
Some were nameless, poor, unlettered,
weak in all but grief and wrong.
Named and nameless all live in us;
one and all they lead us yet
Every pain to count for nothing,
every sorrow to forget.
Hearken how they cry, “O happy,
happy ye that ye were born
In the sad slow night’s departing,
in the rising of the morn.
“Fair the crown the Cause hath for you,
well to die or well to live
Through the battle, through the tangle,
peace to gain or peace to give.”
Ah, it may be! Oft meseemeth,
in the days that yet shall be,
When no slave of gold abideth
’twixt the breadth of sea to sea,
Oft, when men and maids are merry,
ere the sunlight leaves the earth,
And they bless the day beloved,
all too short for all their mirth,
Some shall pause awhile and ponder
on the bitter days of old,
Ere the toil of strife and battle
overthrew the curse of gold;
Then ’twixt lips of loved and lover
solemn thoughts of us shall rise;
We who once were fools defeated,
then shall be the brave and wise.
There amidst the world new-builded
shall our earthly deeds abide,
Though our names be all forgotten,
and the tale of how we died.
Life or death then, who shall heed it,
what we gain or what we lose?
Fair flies life amid the struggle,
and the Cause for each shall choose.
Hear a word, a word in season,
for the day is drawing nigh,
When the Cause shall call upon us,
some to live, and some to die!
poem by William Morris
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The World's Damnation
People lie, people cry. People try, people die. In this world you have to cut your own path, Don't let others determine what your heart decides. People give, people take. People help, people kill. This world is a dangerous place, filled with hate. While your feelin' may be different, you must open your eyes. So much pain, so much hate, so much hurt, so much death. Death may be the end for some. While to others, it is only the beginnin. Love and Pain, It's all the same. Everyones loved someone in with life, but it just makes the pain worse. Love, Hate, Pain, Sorrow...This is the World's Damnation.
poem by Clint Tilley
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Six Six Six Revealed (repeating cycle) (Jul 7th,2004)
(one)
Love brings war
Love breeds hate
Love births peace
Love begats death
Love blossoms life
(two)
Life blossoms love
Life begats death
Life breeds hate
Life brings war
life births peace
(three)
Peace births life
Peace brings war
Peace begats death
Peace blossoms love
Peace breeds hate
(four)
Hate breeds peace
Hate brings love
Hate births war
Hate blossoms life
Hate begats death
(five)
Death begats hate
Death breeds life
Death blossoms love
Death brings peace
Death births war
(six)
War births death
War begats peace
War blossoms life
War breeds hate
War brings love
Misconstrued
never ending or beginning
One last bringing of war
Begatting death of the cycle
Blossoming life as it is meant to be
Bringing cataclysmic profound love
Birthing true peace and tranquility
poem by Nicholas McDonough
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A World Filled With Hate
This world is filled with hate
Hate against life
Hate against your friends
Hate against your pet
Hate against the rain
Hate against a busdriver
Hate against your teacher
Hate against your parents
Hate against your brothers and sisters
Hate against a difficult game
Hate against your job
Hate against the way you live
Hate against your body
Hate against a withering flower
Hate against a not-working car
Hate against someone hurting you
Hate against a child that doesn't obey
Hate against the cloudy sky
Hate against God
Hate against the death
So much hate in everyone of us
We're filled with it
But only a little dropp of love
In this hate filled world
Could overcome every bit of hate
poem by Angel of Death
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Donna Mi Prega
Because a lady asks me, I would tell
Of an affect that comes often and is fell
And is so overweening; Love by name.
E'en its deniers can now hear the truth,
I for the nonce to them that know it call,
Having no hope at all
that man who is base in heart
Can bear his part of wit
into the light of it,
And save they know't aright from nature's source
I have no will to prove Love's course
or say
Where he takes rest; who maketh him to be;
Or what his active virtu is, or what his force;
Nay, nor his very essence or his mode;
What his placation; why he is in verb,
Or if a man have might
To show him visible to men's sight.
In memory's locus taketh he his state Place
Formed there in manner as a mist of light
Upon a dusk that is come from Mars and stays.
Love is created, hath a sensate name,
His modus takes from soul, from heart his will;
From form seen doth he start, that, understood,
Taketh in latent intellect
As in a subject ready
place and abode,
Yet in that place it ever is unstill,
Spreading its rays, it tendeth never down
By quality, but is its own effect unendingly
Not to delight, but in an ardour of thought
That the base likeness of it kindleth not.
It is not virtu, but perfection's source
Lying within perfection postulate
Not by the reason, but ‘tis felt, I say.
Beyond salvation, holdeth its judging force,
Maintains intention reason's peer and mate;
Poor in discernment, being thus weakness' friend,
Often his power meeteth with death in the end
Be he withstayed
or from true course
bewrayed
E'en though he meet not with hate or villeiny
Save that perfection fails, be it but a little;
Nor can man say he hath his life by chance
Or that he hath not stablished seigniory
Or loseth power, e'en lost to memory.
He comes to be and is when will's so great
It twists itself from out all natural measure;
Leisure s adornment puts he then never on,
Never thereafter, but moves changing state,
Moves changing colour, or to laugh or weep
Or wries the face with fear and little stays,
Yea, resteth little
yet is found the most
Where folk of worth be host.
And his strange property sets sighs to move
And wills man look into unformed space
Rousing there thirst
that breaketh into flame.
None can imagine love
that knows not love;
Love doth not move, but draweth all to him;
Nor doth he turn
for a whim
to find delight
Nor to seek out, surely,
great knowledge or slight.
Look drawn from like,
delight maketh certain in seeming
Nor can in covert cower,
beauty so near,
Not yet wild-cruel as darts,
So hath man craft from fear
in such his desire
To follow a noble spirit,
edge, that is, and point to the dart,
Though from her face indiscernible;
He, caught, falleth
plumb the spike of the targe.
Who well proceedeth, form not seeth,
following his own emanation.
There, beyond colour, essence set apart,
In midst of darkness light light giveth forth
Beyond all falsity, worthy of faith, alone
That in him solely is compassion born.
Safe may'st thou go my canzon whither thee pleaseth
Thou art so fair attired that every man and each
Shall praise thy speech
So we have sense or glow with reason's fire,
To stand with other
hast thou no desire.
poem by Ezra Pound
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Upon The Image Of Death
Before my face the picture hangs
That daily should put me in mind
Of those cold names and bitter pangs
That shortly I am like to find;
But yet, alas, full little I
Do think hereon that I must die.
I often look upon a face
Most ugly, grisly, bare, and thin;
I often view the hollow place
Where eyes and nose had sometimes been;
I see the bones across that lie,
Yet little think that I must die.
I read the label underneath,
That telleth me whereto I must;
I see the sentence eke that saith
Remember, man, that thou art dust!
But yet, alas, but seldom I
Do think indeed that I must die.
Continually at my bed's head
A hearse doth hang, which doth me tell
That I ere morning may be dead,
Though now I feel myself full well ;
But yet, alas, for all this, I
Have little mind that I must die.
The gown which I do use to wear,
The knife wherewith I cut my meat,
And eke that old and ancient chair
Which is my only usual seat,-
All these do tell me I must die,
And yet my life amend not I.
My ancestors are turned to clay,
And many of my mates are gone;
My youngers daily drop away,
And can I think to 'scape alone?
No, no, I know that I must die,
And yet my life amend not I.
Not Solomon for all his wit,
Nor Samson, though he were so strong,
No king nor person ever yet
Could 'scape but death laid him along;
Wherefore I know that I must die,
And yet my life amend not I.
Though all the East did quake to hear
Of Alexander's dreadful name,
And all the West did likewise fear
To hear of Julius Caesar's fame,
Yet both by death in dust now lie;
Who then can 'scape but he must die?
If none can 'scape death's dreadful dart,
If rich and poor his beck obey,
If strong, if wise, if all do smart,
Then I to 'scape shall have no way.
Oh, grant me grace, O God, that I
My life may mend, sith I must die.
poem by Robert Southwell
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Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise and he that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding.
Love Eternal
In death there is beauty
We will sleep like angels
With the tranquility of innocence
Death will not conquer our love
As we are bounded by memories,
And our love will flourish
Death is our sadness
For I will long for your flesh,
But our journeys will not be far apart
Death is our sanctuary
From the woes of life;
In death we will find peace
Death brings us unwavering hope
For the time of resurrection;
In death we will find love eternal.
poem by Bernice W. Wilson
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The Looks Of A Lover Enamoured
THOU, with thy looks, on whom I look full oft,
And find therein great cause of deep delight,
Thy face is fair, thy skin is smooth and soft,
Thy lips are sweet, thine eyes are clear and bright,
And every part seems pleasant in my sight;
Yet wote thou well, those looks have wrought my woe,
Because I love to look upon them so.
For first those looks allured mine eye to look,
And straight mine eye stirred up my heart to love;
And cruel love, with deep deceitful hook,
Choked up my mind, whom fancy cannot move,
Nor hope relieve, nor other help behoove
But still to look; and though I look too much,
Needs must I look because I see none such.
Thus in thy looks my love and life have hold;
And with such life my death draws on apace:
And for such death no med'cine can be told
But looking still upon thy lovely face,
Wherein are painted pity, peace, and grace.
Then though thy looks should cause me for to die,
Needs must I look, because I live thereby.
Since then thy looks my life have so in thrall
As I can like none other looks but thine,
Lo, here I yield my life, my love, and all
Into thy hands, and all things else resign
But liberty to gaze upon thine eyen:
Which when I do, then think it were thy part
To look again, and link with me in heart.
poem by George Gascoigne
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Hope
Without hope the human race would simply not exist.
There would be no pain, no fate, no destiny or death.
For hope is a part of life itself, it defines the human race.
Without it doom would engulf our very existance.
Pain, sorrow and despair only serve to breed new hope.
Even as man's destructive war machine rages there is hope.
Hope for a life bereft of hunger, hatred and prejudice.
Or even a hope to die a swift and painless death.
All of mans dreams are born upon the wings of hope...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Modern Beauty
I am the torch, she saith, and what to me
If the moth die of me? I am the flame
Of Beauty, and I burn that all may see
Beauty, and I have neither joy nor shame.
But live with that clear light of perfect fire
Which is to men the death of their desire.
I am Yseult and Helen, I have seen
Troy burn, and the most loving knight lies dead.
The world has been my mirror, time has been
My breath upon the glass; and men have said,
Age after age, in rapture and despair,
Love's poor few words, before my image there.
I live, and am immortal; in my eyes
The sorrow of the world, and on my lips
The joy of life, mingle to make me wise;
Yet now the day is darkened with eclipse:
Who is there lives for beauty? Still am I
The torch, but where's the moth that still dares die?
poem by Arthur Symons
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Liar
For all the pain that calls my name
I burn your picture in the same way
That you burned the things you see in me
And all the pills wash it away
They tell me how and what to say
I need that numbness here in me, to be
Im feeling sick and living on everything
Thats dead in me
You bring it out of me
Hate is what I need
Your life is built on this
And bitch youll never strip me from this
From the pain I arise, from the pain I arise
Nothing more, liar, liar, liar, liar!
You say things would be the same
Yo se things would be the same
Liar!
All the hate is now arising!
For all the feelings that are right
Theres still a fear that we must fight
And I would kill for you to feed from me
Im feeling sick and living and breathing only nothing
That is real, your hate is what I feel
You think youre made of steel
Your life is built on this
And bitch youll never strip me from this
From the pain I arise, from the pain I arise
Nothing more, liar, liar, liar, liar!
You say things would be the same
Yo se things would be the same
Bring you, bring you down
Liar, liar, liar, liar!
You said things would be the same
song performed by by Ill NiO
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Liar
For all the pain that calls my name
I burn your picture in the same way
That you burned the things you see in me
And all the pills wash it away
They tell me how and what to say
I need that numbness here in me, to be
Im feeling sick and living on everything
Thats dead in me
You bring it out of me
Hate is what I need
Your life is built on this
And bitch youll never strip me from this
From the pain I arise, from the pain I arise
Nothing more, liar, liar, liar, liar!
You say things would be the same
Yo se things would be the same
Liar!
All the hate is now arising!
For all the feelings that are right
Theres still a fear that we must fight
And I would kill for you to feed from me
Im feeling sick and living and breathing only nothing
That is real, your hate is what I feel
You think youre made of steel
Your life is built on this
And bitch youll never strip me from this
From the pain I arise, from the pain I arise
Nothing more, liar, liar, liar, liar!
You say things would be the same
Yo se things would be the same
Bring you, bring you down
Liar, liar, liar, liar!
You said things would be the same
song performed by by Ill NiO
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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