Consolation
We knew not on Aonian mount
The outskirts of pollution,
Needed not then, I know need now,
A negative solution.
Purge thyself of thy love, dear Lamb,
Make poetry of thy hate,
Kow tow to those above, dear Lamb,
Ain't genius rules your fate.
(Charles Lamb considered giving up writing poetry
Coleridge replied)
poem by Douglas Scotney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, frisking along;
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, bleating a song;
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, wearing fur-coat,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, looking so bright!
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, eating green grass,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, let me first pass,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, grazing so nice,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, what a surprise!
One of my first Children's Rhymes
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lullaby
Bedtime 's come fu' little boys.
Po' little lamb.
Too tiahed out to make a noise,
Po' little lamb.
You gwine t' have to-morrer sho'?
Yes, you tole me dat befo',
Don't you fool me, chile, no mo',
Po' little lamb.
You been bad de livelong day,
Po' little lamb.
Th'owin' stones an' runnin' 'way,
Po' little lamb.
My, but you 's a-runnin' wil',
Look jes' lak some po' folks chile;
Mam' gwine whup you atter while,
Po' little lamb.
Come hyeah! you mos' tiahed to def,
Po' little lamb.
Played yo'se'f clean out o' bref,
Po' little lamb.
See dem han's now--sich a sight!
Would you evah b'lieve dey's white?
Stan' still twell I wash 'em right,
Po' little lamb.
Jes' cain't hol' yo' haid up straight,
Po' little lamb.
Had n't oughter played so late,
Po' little lamb.
Mammy do' know whut she 'd do,
Ef de chillun's all lak you;
You 's a caution now fu' true,
Po' little lamb.
Lay yo' haid down in my lap,
Po' little lamb.
Y' ought to have a right good slap,
Po' little lamb.
You been runnin' roun' a heap.
Shet dem eyes an' don't you peep,
Dah now, dah now, go to sleep,
Po' little lamb.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Hymn
O li'l' lamb out in de col',
De Mastah call you to de fol',
O li'l' lamb!
He hyeah you bleatin' on de hill;
Come hyeah an' keep yo' mou'nin' still,
O li'l' lamb!
De Mastah sen' de Shepud fo'f;
He wandah souf, he wandah no'f,
O li'l' lamb!
He wandah eas', he wandah wes';
De win' a-wrenchin' at his breas',
O li'l' lamb!
Oh, tell de Shepud whaih you hide;
He want you walkin' by his side,
O li'l' lamb!
He know you weak, he know you so';
But come, don' stay away no mo',
O li'l' lamb!
An' af'ah while de lamb he hyeah
De Shepud's voice a-callin' cleah--
Sweet li'l' lamb!
He answah f'om de brambles thick,
'O Shepud, I's a-comin' quick'--
O li'l' lamb!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mary Had A Little Lamb
Mary had a little lamb
One holy morning
'Neath the star of Bethlehem
A brand new day was forming
Guided by the shining light
And the angel's voice
Wise men traveled through the night
To see the baby boy
'Cause Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
They gathered 'round to see the lamb
In the manger sleeping
Such a humble throne for Him
The promise God was keeping
There the shepards bowed their heads
Among the cattle lowing
The first ever Christmas gift
Was wrapped in swaddling clothes
Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
For the world a sacrifice
Mary did give birth
The way she held him in her arms
Is how He holds the earth
Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
Oh, Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mary Had A Little Lamb
Mary had a little lamb,
His fleece was white as snow,
Evrywhere that mary went,
That lamb was sur to go.
And you could hear them singing:
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
He followed her to school one day,
It was against the rules,
Made the children laugh and play to
See a lamb at school.
You could hear them singing:
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
Soon the teacher turned it out,
Still it lingered near,
Waited patiently about till
Mary did appear.
You could hear them singing:
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
But the lamb loved mary so,
The eager children cry,
And mary loves the lamb, you know,
The teacher did reply.
And you could hear them singing:
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
(evry body singing)
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Behold The Lamb
We are told to behold The Lamb, sent to the earth by the great I Am,
To behold the very Lamb of God, who will soon rule with an iron rod.
He was the Lamb not many knew, was sent to earth for me and you,
The One who left a Glorious Throne, only to be rejected by His own.
The Lamb who took away our sin, although none was found in Him.
Indeed the only blameless sacrifice, was the God Man Jesus Christ.
Behold God’s amazing sacrifice, given so we may have Eternal Life,
The Lord above paid the price, by giving His Only Son Jesus Christ.
Behold The Lord’s amazing Grace, sending His Son to take our place,
That upon a wicked bloody cross, as He purged us of our sinful dross.
Soon every eye will indeed behold, events that many scribes foretold,
When Christ that sacrificial Lamb, returns to earth as The Great I Am.
This time around every eye shall see, The Lord and God of all Eternity.
Every heart and knee will bend, when He comes back in victory friend.
Christ’s Kingship will not be denied, even by men who pierced His side.
They’ll behold The Prince of Peace, beginning a reign that won’t cease.
Soon we shall behold His Majesty, as believers, we enter into Eternity.
The Lamb, who died upon that tree, will reign forever with you and me.
For those wouldn’t take notice of, The Lamb that God sent from above,
Will never hear of or see again, The Lamb of God who died for all men.
(Copyright ©04/2006)
Elena
Mary has a little lamb and,
Joseph has to take care of it with love;
So come to me with your little lamb my sweet one,
For you are all that i know on this love.
Elena, come to me and let us find amicable solution on this love;
And, let us settle the impasse and move on,
For your love to me is like the Trans Saharan Trade.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Lamb
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life & bid thee feed
By the stream & o’er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, wooly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee,
Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee:
He is callèd by thy name,
For he calls himself a Lamb.
He is meek, & he is mild;
He became a little child.
I a child, & thou a lamb,
We are callèd by his name.
Little Lamb, God bless thee!
Little Lamb, God bless thee!
poem by William Blake from Songs of Innocence (1789)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I could never hate anyone I knew.
quote by Charles Lamb
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the beginning of new life,
Poetry is in the tears of a child,
Poetry is in the warmth of mother's kiss,
Poetry is in the child's bliss,
Poetry is in the hug of a father,
Poetry is in the love of a dear,
Poetry is in the happiness of affection,
Poetry is in the pain of separation,
Poetry is in someone's loss,
Poetry is in missing someone very close.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the first rain,
Poetry is in the cultivation of first grain,
Poetry is in the first light of dawn,
Poetry is in the drops of dew o the grass of lawn,
Poetry is in the blowing of cool wind,
Poetry is in the beauty of green,
Poetry is in the twinkling star,
Poetry is in the aroma of a flower,
Poetry is in thunder and lightning,
Poetry is in the heat scorching.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is something more sweeter than sweet,
Poetry is something more closer to heart beat,
Poetry is something more than the most beautiful creation,
Poetry is something more than the depth of an ocean,
Poetry is something more higher than the blue,
Poetry is something more true,
Poetry is something more enjoyable than wine,
Poetry is something more shiner than sunshine,
Poetry is something more pure than air,
Poetry is something which is present everywhere.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poet ry is not just rhyme,
Poetry is but the voice Divine,
Poetry is not just Poetry,
Poetry frames History,
After so many lines,
Poetry still remains undefined.
Poetry...Poetry...
poem by Akash Agrawal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Today... 'The Lion Of The Tribe Of Judah
There in heaven John shed great tears and sighed.
But then, 'Weep not' one of the elders cried.
'The secrets of the scroll can be unveiled'
'for the Lion of Judah has prevailed.'
Before them stood a Lamb so clear and plain
pierced and looking as though it had been slain.
Then the Lamb took the scroll as angels sang
and throughout heaven this great chorus rang.
'Worthy is the Lamb' all the heavens cried
'Worthy is the Lamb' all the earth replied,
'For He was slain for us and shed His blood
and purchased the people on earth for God.'
The Lion became a Lamb to pay the price
and saved the world by His great sacrifice.
When He hung there upon that wooden cross
and gave up His life to redeem the lost.
So weep no more and shed no more tears
Join in the song through the eternal years.
'Worthy is the Lamb' enthroned in Glory
for Christ Jesus has won the victory.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
A Definition of Poetry by a 15 yr old
Poetry does not need a meaning or defintion.
Poetry is how the reader reads it,
Poetry is how the poet writes it.
Poetry is real,
Poetry is fake,
Poetry is everything,
Poetry is fate.
Poetry is rythm.
Poetry can ryme.
Poetry is anything, I make it mine.
poem by Eric Graham
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lambs
He sleeps as a lamb sleeps,
Beside his mother.
Somewhere in yon blue deeps
His tender brother
Sleeps like a lamb and leaps.
He feeds as a lamb might,
Beside his mother.
Somewhere in fields of light
A lamb, his brother,
Feeds, and is clothed in white.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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It Is A Habit
writing poems
when you really write poems
everyday and every moment of your life
even when you're in the middle of your
bread and butter eating thing
or even when you are defecating
writing poems becomes a habit
even when you sleep even when you dream
writing poems becomes a part of your system
you eat poetry you vomit poetry
you digest poetry you poo poetry
you breathe poetry you sweat poetry
you love poetry and you live with your poetry
and at the end you die with poetry
and your epitaph says: here lies the poet,
choked with poetry.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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First and Last
Thy "little lamb" once more!
My Lord, my life, my rest,
Borne in thine arms the wide world o'er,
A lamb upon thy breast.
Thy sheep across the waste
Were wandering far and wide,
And after them my heart would baste
To bring them to thy side.
Thy lambs were weak and faint,
I could but give my best;
Feebly I sought to still the plaint,
And bear them on my breast.
Great Shepherd of the sheep!
The sheep are thine, not mine!
Thou thy great flock wilt surely keep,
And each one lamb of thine.
Ever, the wide waste o'er,
A lamb upon thy breast!
Thy lost thou seekest evermore,
I seek, with thee, and rest.
A lamb upon thy breast,
Still learning what thou art, -
Our Lord, our life, our strength, our rest!
Borne on thy changeless heart.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Thy "little lamb" once more
My Lord, my life, my rest;
Borne in thine arms the dark flood o'er,
A lamb upon thy breast!
poem by Elizabeth Rundle Charles from Littell's Living Age, Volume 143, Issue 1842
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I Dont Write Poetry!
i dont write poetry...
i sweat poetry, i drink poetry,
i breathe poetry, i make love to poetry,
i fight poetry, i eat poetry,
i bleed poetry, i crap poetry...
too often i betray poetry,
sometimes i dropp poetry.
once i tripped over poetry,
got angry and kicked poetry.
i rocked poetry on a sleepless night,
i buried poetry on the hill...
i lived poetry, for i am poetry...
no, i dont write poetry,
but poetry writes me!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ewe
One little ewe lamb was walking along the street,
But two types people do live on this earth;
And i made up my mind to walk closer and look,
For the rich and the poor were there too.
Oh! I saw the little ewe lamb;
And like the poor man's sorrow and the rich man's laughter,
But let us lead this little ewe lamb to find its way home.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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He Now Reigns
From a bloody cross to a Throne, He now reigns above for His own,
Now reigning above in majesty, The Lamb who died for you and me,
He now reigns above to intercede, on our behalf, for our every need,
He Reigns above as King of kings, and Lord above all earthly things.
This Throne was not new for Him, The Lamb who came to be our sin,
Who emptied himself of Majesty, born that He would die on Calvary,
God’s Eternal Son, Jesus Christ, coming to earth to be His Sacrifice,
And a body was prepared for Him, for as Eternal God He had no sin.
Equality to God, not considered, by The Lamb, who died unhindered,
By the darkened wickedness of man, as He submitted to God’s Plan,
The Sinless Lamb died in our place, opening to all, this Age of Grace,
Capping God’s Plan of Salvation, and offered to every earthly nation.
Now risen, with the Power to save, through His Victory over the grave,
For death had no hold on The Lamb, with Christ being The Great I AM,
Christ, the Eternal Lord and Creator, is now for many Lord and Savior,
If they embrace, God’s Sacrifice, who paid for all God’s Eternal Price.
Now seated at God’s Right Hand, the Savior and Judge of every land.
Who will return to this earthly sod, not a lamb but a Lion with Iron Rod,
The Lamb of God, once crucified, is The Lion of Judah, now Glorified,
As Lord and King, of all the world, as His Earthly Kingdom is unfurled.
(Copyright ©05/2009)
An act of poetry
Ruin is what we need –
Despair is what we feed
Upon in poetry
A shock resets the nerves –
Helps remould the curves
Of written art
Catharsis helps portray –
Acting out a play
On expurgation
Tears or hidden fears
Release the bottled years
To ink a page:
The pen be our salvation.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry Is
poetry is what the soul wants
poetry is infinite sound that taunts
poetry is strength of ones spirit
poetry is the powerful truth within it
poetry is love and hate
poetry is what makes you stop wait and appreciate
poetry is something you should die for
poetry is what makes you dropp to the floor
poetry is put up randomly
poetry is, well, simply poetry
poem by Daniel Romero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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