Life ‘ in extremis’
When sorrow profound strikes an author’s heart
And joy eludes his life throughout for long;
No more roads is left for his crippled art,
Leaving him poor, diseased, in utter debt!
Though history’s full of real examples,
Of authors talented, yet struggling hard;
Unable to make both ends meet,
Quaffing cheap spirits with anguished minds;
Reaching ledges for a final fall!
“Oh, cruel Nature! Oh, deaf /mute God!
Why hast Thou forsaken me?
Could not my cup of woes, less bitter be? ”
Crestfallen, frustrated, in despair ’yond compare,
The author raises a glass of hemlock to his lips,
To drain the poison down his throat,
To breathe his last, yet wears a smile so brave!
“I’ve wrung my heart off all its blood so dry;
I’ve sweated blood when others slept in sex;
What could I do if luck didn’t smile my way?
Let people say whatever they must say!
I did great things that people rarely do! ”
With mind afilled with such thoughts,
The dejected soul commits SUICIDE!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
For Me You Are…………
Building the wall of confidence, all around my ribs
Inspiring, when am alone, even in noise
Showing me, the fairy way, when I get confused
Hauling me from, those atrocious affairs, that matters
Now, am feeling proud, to have you like a friend in my life
Unable to be mute and those unspoken tales
(Now, am feeling proud, to have you like a friend in my life
Unable to be mute and those unspoken tales
Now, am feeling proud, to have you like a friend in my life
Unable to be mute and those unspoken tales
Under my heart to hide.)
Pursuing illusion, enlightening my life
Reaching, as a shadow at the time of tide
Intimacy, in the dream that comes into my mind
Yielding smile at my labor, creating zeal at my failure
(Now, am feeling proud, to have you like a friend in my life
Unable to be mute and those unspoken tales
Now, am feeling proud, to have you like a friend in my life
Unable to be mute and those unspoken tales
Under my heart to hide.)
At every insult and every admire
Youth mind, mine even if retires
Occupying for me, the seat of mentor
Uprooting all solitary despairs
Aspiring not to be worry, else to fear
Reinforcing skeleton by self-esteem of yours
(Now, am feeling proud, to have you like a friend in my life
Unable to be mute and those unspoken tales
Now, am feeling proud, to have you like a friend in my life
Unable to be mute and those unspoken tales
Under my heart to hide.)
Enriching my each moment, being even so bare
Animating my life, that anyone can't imagine
Nursing me, to special from alone
Grasping me in the midst of up and down
Enlivening those deadly postures of dreams
Lightening by a heavy power as thunderstorm
(Now, am feeling proud, to have you like a friend in my life
Unable to be mute and those unspoken tales
Now, am feeling proud, to have you like a friend in my life
Unable to be mute and those unspoken tales
Under my heart to hide.)
Forgiving me for each-every mistakes done
Organizing such beautiful ceremonies
Rearranging me, trying to make me genuine
My life you are, I can't remain alone
Eagerly, have awaited for you, oh my feminine!
(Now, am feeling proud, to have you like a friend in my life
Unable to be mute and those unspoken tales
Now, am feeling proud, to have you like a friend in my life
Unable to be mute and those unspoken tales
Under my heart to hide.)
poem by Nibedit Nahak
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Influence Of Time on Grief
O TIME! who know'st a lenient hand to lay
Softest on sorrow's wound, and slowly thence,
(Lulling to sad repose the weary sense)
Stealest the long-forgotten pang away;
On Thee I rest my only hope at last,
And think, when thou hast dried the bitter tear
That flows in vain o'er all my soul held dear,
I may look back on many a sorrow past,
And meet life's peaceful evening with a smile -
As some poor bird, at day's departing hour,
Sings in the sunbeam, of the transient shower
Forgetful, tho' its wings are wet the while: -
Yet ah! how much must that poor heart endure,
Which hopes from thee, and thee alone, a cure!
poem by William Lisle Bowles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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XIII. O Time! Who Know'st a Lenient Hand to Lay...
O TIME! who know'st a lenient hand to lay
Softest on sorrow's wound, and slowly thence,
(Lulling to sad repose the weary sense)
Stealest the long-forgotten pang away;
On Thee I rest my only hope at last,
And think, when thou hast dried the bitter tear
That flows in vain o'er all my soul held dear,
I may look back on many a sorrow past,
And meet life's peaceful evening with a smile --
As some poor bird, at day's departing hour,
Sings in the sunbeam, of the transient shower
Forgetful, tho' its wings are wet the while: --
Yet ah! how much must that poor heart endure,
Which hopes from thee, and thee alone, a cure!
poem by William Lisle Bowles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Suicide
I sit here by myself, thinking of suicide
I look at a knife, wanting to commit suicide
I look at a photo, hating my life
Telling myself, suicide stops the pain
I turn the lights off, alone in dark
Reaching for the knife, that’s going to take it away
I think of certain people, they don’t care
For the first time, I think of myself
I dig the knife, into part of my skin
Letting all of my blood, pour out
I’m not dying quick enough, so another cut I make
Then a final cut on my neck, and a stab in my heart
poem by Lisa French
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Deaf-Mute
A deaf-mute brings a cup of tea!
A cup of tea with love so rare;
Love uncommonly seen, I stare;
How do I thank her for her charity?
Often by her mother chided;
A servant in her own house, unpaid;
A deaf-mute, she remains, since birth!
Wearing a smile and full of mirth;
A face quite content to the core;
I want to love her all the more;
My heart with anguish wants to cry;
For unfair things, men often try;
To scores of deaf-mute creatures,
God, a DEAF-MUTE, Himself remains!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Please Smile
Smile for me today,
It’s a beautiful and breezy afternoon.
The breeze if blowing, all the grass are dancing, why shouldn’t you.
I want you to smile for me.
I want to see that beautiful smile.
I want to see those cheeks of yours run red with joy.
I want to see u jump with glee.
Most of all I want to see you smile.
Why don’t you smile for me?
All I want is one smile.
One smile that can help me get through my days of despair and hate
Without your smile there is no meaning of life.
With every frown u make my heart begins to break down.
With every dropp of tear u make, the ocean I must drain.
Can’t u smile for me?
I must know, am I not good enough for that one smile?
poem by alexander Peralta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Happy Halloween
The blood that she let
Left me empty and upset.
My life now goes on forever.
I killed hitler with my fangs and a song.
His gardens died quickly,
He didn't belong.
Love was a dropp of blood for awhile,
Mine was to feed for the blood that she let.
Then I met friendly people on the street.
When I left them they were white as a sheet.
Tommorrow night I will eat candy,
My costume is real
My woman my blood to let
My tongue the blood to feel.
Give me a costume and reason to smile
I just use darkness and death all the while.
So, suck it up, you crazy believers
That we are the invisible creatures of myth
My journey for you
Is what she left.
The blood that she let
Is all that she left.
Happy Halloween.
History Stones People.
History stones people.
They stoned Moses, David and Linclon,
history did that for all to see
Marbel and cement,
that's all it leaves behind
of a long changing life.
Great heroes of time,
fall under the mercy
of the sculptor's knife.
History stones faces,
in a way that would make
ecclestias cringe.
History stones feet,
in a way that would make
piligrims cry.
History stones life
to always stay fresh,
yet, what is life without
the sins of the flesh.
All the radical kids
get stoned
and never change
or even move a muscle.
All the sword raising warriors
history stoned
without blood in their veins.
You can see all the victims
that history stoned
when you walk in the park,
they got kings
and queens
hell, they even got Gods.
They are there captive
in history's stones,
never to be again what they were;
wilting flesh and
breakable bones.
People look up at them
they are victims too.
History's stones fall far,
even on to you.
Those stoned to live
are like the ones stoned to die.
enslaved to the search
of the frozen smile.
Life is a burning bush
that doesn't get consumed.
not a dead rock
or a statue of history.
It's a fusing wind
of happinnes and misery.
An exploding volcano
of courage and fear.
It is the stem of the flower
struggling through the seasons
to stand and bloom
above the drying soil.
Life is the fighting wave
you see at sea
forgotten and denied
by the stones of history.
poem by Samuel Katz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heart Attack
The heart of our nation's had an attack.
Its beat has slowed right down.
No cardiac surgeon could ever fix
the problem that's brought it around
It' s been brewing for years like arrhythmia
with its on and off woes
that come and go with our nation throbbing
forgetting the promise of those
who told us we were the shining stars,
the land of the free and the brave.
While all along the heart of its people
becomes harder and harder to save.
The woes of this nation start from the top
where the money like blood circulates.
While the heart of our nation slowly bleeds
as the oil of the rich coagulates.
The middle class works the jobs that are left
and the poor are left in the cold.
The peacemakers of song and words they tell
are forgotten and lies are sold.
We are the surgeons who must fix the problem
or the heart of our nation will die,
never again to beat or breathe free.
Together we all must try.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Smiles
Smile a little, smile a little,
As you go along,
Not alone when life is pleasant,
But when things go wrong.
Care delights to see you frowning,
Loves to hear you sigh;
Turn a smiling face upon her –
Quick the dame will fly.
Smile a little, smile a little,
All along the road;
Every life must have its burden,
Every heart its load.
Why sit down in gloom and darkness
With your grief to sup?
As you drink Fate’s bitter tonic,
Smile across the cup.
Smile upon the troubled pilgrims
Whom you pass and meet;
Frowns are thorns, and smiles are blossoms
Oft for weary feet.
Do not make the way seem harder
By a sullen face;
Smile a little, smile a little,
Brighten up the place.
Smile upon your undone labour;
Not for one who grieves
O’er his task waits wealth or glory;
He who smiles achieves.
Though you meet with loss and sorrow
In the passing years,
Smile a little, smile a little,
Even through your tears.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Frozen Bullet Eyes
You shot me with those frozen bullet eyes
which at first ice-berged the center of my soul
but I didn't die.
can't be killed by a dead man.
The swipe of that ice crystal hand
was dismissively lodged
in my breathing space
and I cried;
but real tears don't fall for the already deceased
feeling wise.
I stood full on
in Massive Regret
shrounded in its Cape of Sorrows
yet
persevered on to day next
piling high
frozen layers
which I could and would melt
and yet
you now come back
hands now greased
with your own blood and wounds
to say
I was the only one who'd understand
how a dead man feels.
I took your face in my hands
ignoring the bitter sweet irony taste
whispering yet into your crinkled ears
that you'd been gone just long enough
for there to be no feeling left
for cruel lovers
who first cut flesh
before leaving;
that part of me now gone
I said
and now
not available
to you
or I
or for Johnny come lately life lines.
'You can't'
I said
'poison your water
and still expect to drink.'
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Tribute to Aimé Césaire
One must be really like you from the native country to comprehend,
One must be truly like me from the tropical country to understand,
And to feel at this very moment the stinging lashes
Unjustly burning the flesh of our ancestors to ashes.
One must be in our skin; one must have our blood,
And have walked under the hot sun of bad weathers
To understand the long moaning of our soul,
The suffering of our people and the miseries of our ladies.
In my heart, you remain, ad vitam aeternam, one of the fathers of negritude,
Which has inspired your children scattered all over
The world. Today, you're gone and I'm sad. I still feel the iron collar
Of slavery smothering, strangling, and suffocating me,
And the kicks of the iron boots of this sad and inhumane history.
Brave Poet! Many thanks! May God welcome you in His Beatitude!
Copyright ©2008 Hébert Logerie
Author of the poetry book 'Sparkles of Love'
Hébert Logerie is the author of 'Mounts And Valleys of Love'
poem by Hebert Logerie
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Poison! Poison!
Poison I breathe, poison I eat,
And poison poison I do drink,
Poison are my thoughts, poison are my acts,
Poison are my sleeps, poison are my dreams,
My blood is poison, poison is my flesh,
And poison poison are my bones.
Wherever I move
I envenom my fellow beings,
And enlarge my kingdom,
This is how my life goes on,
Living in the world: all poison poison.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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They Are Trying To Get Me
When people ask', How do you feel about him? '
All I do is smile and say love.
But, what they haven't noticed is how evil spirits dance on the edges of my lips.
While they give me evil thoughts
like
cutting his wrist and drinking his blood
like
kissing him while injecting something that leads him to his cross
like
a knife going throw his back while hugging him to stop his heart
But, no worries these are just thoughts that will never become reality.
poem by Liliana Villar
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Song
Rarely, rarely comest thou,
Spirit of Delight!
Wherefore hast thou left me now
Many a day and night?
Many a weary night and day
'Tis since thou art fled away.
How shall ever one like me
Win thee back again?
With the joyous and the free
Thou wilt scoff at pain.
Spirit false! thou hast forgot
All but those who need thee not.
As a lizard with the shade
Of a trembling leaf,
Thou with sorrow art dismayed;
Even the sighs of grief
Reproach thee, that thou art not near,
And reproach thou wilt not her.
Let me set my mournful ditty
To a merry measure;--
Thou wilt never come for pity,
Thou wilt come for pleasure;
Pity then will cut away
Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay.
I love all that thou lovest,
Spirit of Delight!
The fresh Earth in new leaves dressed,
And the starry night;
Autumn evening, and the morn
When the golden mists are born.
I love snow and all the forms
Of the radiant frost;
I love waves, and winds, and storms,
Everything almost
Which is Nature's, and may be
Untainted by man's misery.
I love tranquil solitude,
And such society
As is quiet, wise, and good;
Between thee and me
What difference? but thou dost possess
The things I seek, not love them less.
I love Love--though he has wings,
And like light can flee,
But above all other things,
Spirit, I love thee--
Thou art love and life! O come!
Make once more my heart thy home!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trust Me
I knew the truth about me
Without any facts
I knew things would turn
Bad luck always comes back
I fell for the lies
Thinking someone could care about me
Still I didn't feel right
Until things become clear
Before you, I was sad and dejected
With you, I almost started to smile
Because of you, broken by picture
Trust me, I've been here
I let myself fall
Trust me
Nobody loves me at all
The worst is over now
I make myself bleed
My mood doesn't let me feel pain
But blood is everywhere, just like rain
I'm going away now
Trust me, it's for the best.
poem by Victor Osorio
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song: Rarely, rarely, comest thou
Rarely, rarely, comest thou,
Spirit of Delight!
Wherefore hast thou left me now
Many a day and night?
Many a weary night and day
'Tis since thou are fled away.
How shall ever one like me
Win thee back again?
With the joyous and the free
Thou wilt scoff at pain.
Spirit false! thou hast forgot
All but those who need thee not.
As a lizard with the shade
Of a trembling leaf,
Thou with sorrow art dismay'd;
Even the sighs of grief
Reproach thee, that thou art not near,
And reproach thou wilt not hear.
Let me set my mournful ditty
To a merry measure;
Thou wilt never come for pity,
Thou wilt come for pleasure;
Pity then will cut away
Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay.
I love all that thou lovest,
Spirit of Delight!
The fresh Earth in new leaves dress'd,
And the starry night;
Autumn evening, and the morn
When the golden mists are born.
I love snow, and all the forms
Of the radiant frost;
I love waves, and winds, and storms,
Everything almost
Which is Nature's, and may be
Untainted by man's misery.
I love tranquil solitude,
And such society
As is quiet, wise, and good;
Between thee and me
What difference? but thou dost possess
The things I seek, not love them less.
I love Love--though he has wings,
And like light can flee,
But above all other things,
Spirit, I love thee--
Thou art love and life! Oh come,
Make once more my heart thy home.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Invocation
Rarely, rarely, comest thou,
Spirit of Delight!
Wherefore hast thou left me now
Many a day and night?
Many a weary night and day
'Tis since thou art fled away.
How shall ever one like me
Win thee back again?
With the joyous and the free
Thou wilt scoff at pain.
Spirit false! thou hast forgot
All but those who need thee not.
As a lizard with the shade
Of a trembling leaf,
Thou with sorrow art dismayed;
Even the sighs of grief
Reproach thee, that thou art not near,
And reproach thou wilt not hear.
Let me set my mournful ditty
To a merry measure;
Thou wilt never come for pity,
Thou wilt come for pleasure; -
Pity then will cut away
Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay.
I love all that thou lovest,
Spirit of Delight!
The fresh Earth in new leaves dressed,
And the starry night;
Autumn evening, and the morn
When the golden mists are born.
I love snow and all the forms
Of the radiant frost;
I love waves, and winds, and storms,
Everything almost
Which is Nature's, and may be
Untainted by man's misery.
I love tranquil solitude,
And such society
As is quiet, wise, and good: -
Between thee and me
What diff'rence? but thou dost possess
The things I seek, not love them less.
I love Love -though he has wings,
And like light can flee,
But above all other things,
Spirit, I love thee -
Thou art love and life! O come!
Make once more my heart thy home!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poison Heart
No one ever thought this one would survive
Helpless child, gonna walk a drum beat behind
Lock you in a dream, never let you go
Never let you laugh or smile, not you.
Well, I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart
I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart.
Making friends with a homeless torn up man
He just kind of smiles, it really shakes me up.
There's danger on every corner but I'm okay
Walking down the street trying to forget yesterday.
Well, I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart.
I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart,
a poison heart, a poison heart, a poison heart ... yeah!
You know that life really takes its toll
And a poet's gut reaction is to search his very soul
So much damn confusion before my eyes,
But nothing seems to phase me and this one still survives.
I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart.
I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart,
Well, I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart.
a poison heart, a poison heart, a poison heart.
a poison heart, a poison heart, a poison heart.
song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Only Way Now
Some days I just wish.
I could run and hide.
No matter where I go.
Suicide seems my only way.
My life is not worth it.
All this pain and suffering.
I dont want to be here anymore.
The only way is suicide.
Nobody can help me.
I cant fix myself.
Nobody knows the real me.
Suicide is the only way.
I put on this false act.
And slap a smile upon my face.
When really Im dying inside.
The only way is suicide.
All I ever wanted was.
To be loved and accepted.
Just to feel the warth of your love.
But you never loved or accepted me.
Suicide is my only way.
I hate you.
Look at what you did to me.
You broke my heart.
You broke my spirit.
You left me empty inside.
Suicide is the way.
You left me
Hurt angry bitter and twisted.
And becuase of you.
Suicide is my only way
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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