Faciebat
As thoughts possess the fashion of the mood
That gave them birth, so every deed we do,
Partakes of our inborn disquietude
That spurns the old and reaches toward the new.
The noblest works of human art and pride
Show that their makers were not satisfied.
For, looking down the ladder of our deeds,
The rounds seem slender. All past work appears
Unto the doer faulty. The heart bleeds,
And pale Regret turns weltering in tears,
To think how poor our best has been, how vain,
Beside the excellence we would attain.
poem by Henry Abbey
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
Unaffected By Personal Critique
To do that which one seeks done,
Often has nothing to do with receiving attention.
And...
The attention given to what one does,
May be the result of the deed.
And only the deed.
Not the doings of the doer to keep an ego pleased.
Confusing those who critique the doer...
As those deeds of the doer increases in value.
Leaving those who critique,
Confused and misunderstanding...
Why the doer continues to beem and dance,
Unaffected...
By personal critique.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Law of our existence.
Knowing or not everybody works out the law,
Doing what is in their mind without a flaw,
One attracts with thoughts of positive or negative,
The other plays it out by became the executive.
Criminal deeds are done with uncontrolled urges,
So are good deeds from the heart's messages,
But there are some who have hatred or greed,
In the meantime plays goody-goody, pays dearly for this deed.
Who works for the devil will get their punishment,
Both the thinker, so is the doer both had same commitment,
But those who choose peace, kindness & understanding,
Will live in peace, true contentment & happiness never ending.
poem by LaSoaphia QuXazs
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Olney Hymn 63: Not Of Works
Grace, triumphant in the throne,
Scorns a rival, reigns alone;
Come and bow beneath her sway;
Cast your idol works away!
Works of man, when made his plea,
Never shall accepted be;
Fruits of pride (vainglorious worm!)
Are the best he can perform.
Self, the god his soul adores,
Influences all his powers;
Jesus is a slighted name,
Self-advancement all his aim:
But when God the Judge shall come,
To pronounce the final doom,
Then for rocks and hills to hide
All his works and all his pride!
Still the boasting heart replies,
What the worthy and the wise,
Friends to temperance and peace,
Have not these a righteousness?
Banish every vain pretence
Built on human excellence;
Perish everything in man,
But the grace that never can.
poem by William Cowper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not Works
Grace, triumphant in the throne,
Scorns a rival, reigns alone;
Come and bow beneath her sway;
Cast your idol works away!
Works of man, when made his plea,
Never shall accepted be;
Fruits of pride (vainglorious worm!)
Are the best he can perform.
Self, the god his soul adores,
Influences all his powers;
Jesus is a slighted name,
Self-advancement all his aim:
But when God the Judge shall come,
To pronounce the final doom,
Then for rocks and hills to hide
All his works and all his pride!
Still the boasting heart replies,
What the worthy and the wise,
Friends to temperance and peace,
Have not these a righteousness?
Banish every vain pretence
Built on human excellence;
Perish everything in man,
But the grace that never can.
poem by William Cowper
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Often Awed
A doer of good deeds,
Isn't sitting to receive accolades...
Heard,
In thunderous applause.
Thinking what is done is deserving of it.
A doer of good deeds done to do...
Is often awed,
That what is done naturally...
Gets any attention for those deeds done,
That pleases the giving of the doer...
Whose choice is the choosing,
Of the doing of those good deeds to do.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Good Deeds
The right deed is a good deed,
Feathers are reclined on since birth.
One saying carries new meaning
For those who listen and create deeds.
A man’s heart implores goodness from the soul,
This is beautiful when his wishes are met.
The deed of the heart is a greater deed,
It is a highest deed, full of promise.
You are higher than this of course,
The cushions we sit on are relaxing
Due to your tallness and weight,
This is a secret of the soul.
poem by Naveed Akram
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What Do Good Works Do?
What will a good life do for you, when your earthly life is through?
All the good you proudly say, you’ve done for men along the way.
Good deeds by men can be good; however it must be understood,
That our works won’t take the place, of The Lord’s amazing Grace.
Good works friend play no part, of God’s true conversion of a heart.
Your good works may be in vain, if you do not embrace The Name,
The only name in Heaven raised, by which all men must be saved.
Will all your good works of the past, well into eternity forever last?
Or will they be buried along side, your earthly body that also died?
Are you ignoring God’s Love, working your way to Heaven above?
Forgetting what God has done, by sending His only begotten Son.
We’re not saved by good deeds, but by God’s work upon Calvary,
His finished work on the cross, through Jesus saves all those lost.
For it is His Grace that saves us, when in Christ we place our trust.
Was the good work in your life, done for the glory of Jesus Christ?
Good works won’t move the Lord, if Christ His Only Son is ignored.
Do your works match the price, paid on the cross by Jesus Christ?
When you accept Jesus Christ, God’s works will flow from your life,
Works prepared for all who believe, that will continue on in eternity.
When your works are of The Lord, you will inherit an eternal reward,
Don’t you want to see your works, turned by God into eternal perks?
(Copyright ©06/2006)
Ladder of St. Augustine, The
Saint Augustine! well hast thou said,
That of our vices we can frame
A ladder, if we will but tread
Beneath our feet each deed of shame!
All common things, each day's events,
That with the hour begin and end,
Our pleasures and our discontents,
Are rounds by which we may ascend.
The low desire, the base design,
That makes another's virtues less;
The revel of the ruddy wine,
And all occasions of excess;
The longing for ignoble things;
The strife for triumph more than truth;
The hardening of the heart, that brings
Irreverence for the dreams of youth;
All thoughts of ill; all evil deeds,
That have their root in thoughts of ill;
Whatever hinders or impedes
The action of the nobler will;--
All these must first be trampled down
Beneath our feet, if we would gain
In the bright fields of fair renown
The right of eminent domain.
We have not wings, we cannot soar;
But we have feet to scale and climb
By slow degrees, by more and more,
The cloudy summits of our time.
The mighty pyramids of stone
That wedge-like cleave the desert airs,
When nearer seen, and better known,
Are but gigantic flights of stairs.
The distant mountains, that uprear
Their solid bastions to the skies,
Are crossed by pathways, that appear
As we to higher levels rise.
The heights by great men reached and kept
Were not attained by sudden flight,
But they, while their companions slept,
Were toiling upward in the night.
Standing on what too long we bore
With shoulders bent and downcast eyes,
We may discern--unseen before--
A path to higher destinies.
Nor deem the irrevocable Past,
As wholly wasted, wholly vain,
If, rising on its wrecks, at last
To something nobler we attain.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Ladder Of St. Augustine. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)
Saint Augustine! well hast thou said,
That of our vices we can frame
A ladder, if we will but tread
Beneath our feet each deed of shame!
All common things, each day's events,
That with the hour begin and end,
Our pleasures and our discontents,
Are rounds by which we may ascend.
The low desire, the base design,
That makes another's virtues less;
The revel of the ruddy wine,
And all occasions of excess;
The longing for ignoble things;
The strife for triumph more than truth;
The hardening of the heart, that brings
Irreverence for the dreams of youth;
All thoughts of ill; all evil deeds,
That have their root in thoughts of ill;
Whatever hinders or impedes
The action of the nobler will;--
All these must first be trampled down
Beneath our feet, if we would gain
In the bright fields of fair renown
The right of eminent domain.
We have not wings, we cannot soar;
But we have feet to scale and climb
By slow degrees, by more and more,
The cloudy summits of our time.
The mighty pyramids of stone
That wedge-like cleave the desert airs,
When nearer seen, and better known,
Are but gigantic flights of stairs.
The distant mountains, that uprear
Their solid bastions to the skies,
Are crossed by pathways, that appear
As we to higher levels rise.
The heights by great men reached and kept
Were not attained by sudden flight,
But they, while their companions slept,
Were toiling upward in the night.
Standing on what too long we bore
With shoulders bent and downcast eyes,
We may discern--unseen before--
A path to higher destinies.
Nor deem the irrevocable Past,
As wholly wasted, wholly vain,
If, rising on its wrecks, at last
To something nobler we attain.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Appears May Not
What appears in front of you,
May not appear in front of me.
But you and I,
We are mentally connected!
Morally with a chemistry.
And spiritually through this...
We both can see!
A manipulation to have us both believe,
The process of a smokescreen works.
But the doer is the one deceived,
By such deeds of such shallow intentions...
A mindset limited breeds.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And Still Soul Sings - 0246 - Current Version
Is soul's pure voice stilled, vast vision spilled despite
heart's hidden beauty? Hesitant, soothing sting,
stumbling, humble hand sends offering
to show true flow, not stillborn, dimmed delight.
Symphony should spirit sweep, cleave tight,
touch friendship's tendrils, letting loose wound spring
to free the wealth of tenderness within.
Forswear forebodings for swift arrow's flight,
aim feathered well, refutes pride ride to fail.
Why should stored Future pale before sore Past,
feelings forlorn, torn, gusted by ghost gale?
Beyond the pale, once outcast, heart beats fast.
Soul peaks, speaks sweetly, song's strong beauty deems
hope turns new leaf, spurns grief, scope answers dreams.
(16 February 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Penitent for Friend Konstantin
A gentleman in every way.
A relic from a bygone day.
His clothes well cut but out of date,
in his own time a fashion plate.
He’s not as he appears to be.
He is a ghost apparently.
Always appears at half past three
then disappears mysteriously.
Though who he was nobody knows.
A gentleman judged by his clothes,
we only know he comes and goes.
Because he has to I suppose.
A visitor from long ago
Though why he comes we may not know.
Perhaps he comes to demonstrate
that once he was a fashion plate.
Maybe condemned for too much pride
a fatal flaw he could not hide.
He must display at half past three
until he learns humility
.18-Feb-09 http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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None See Me Off
None see me off. Let those go home who will
Receive this blessing from a loosing heart
Let righteous deed secure you all good weal
Ye brought me up and gave me to one
who will not give you cause for anxious thoughts
I must now walk with my dear Lord of Life
Whom have I followed with inborn love.
If your love for me I give free scope
'T will cause delay.Be calm,allay your grief
who take each other by the hand secure
full purpose of this life - as Laws assert
we part for good; reserve for talk the past.
poem by Sant Tukaram
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There's a Regret
There's a regret
So grinding, so immitigably sad,
Remorse thereby feels tolerant, even glad. ...
Do you not know it yet?
For deeds undone
Rnakle and snarl and hunger for their due,
Till there seems naught so despicable as you
In all the grin o' the sun.
Like an old shoe
The sea spurns and the land abhors, you lie
About the beach of Time, till by and by
Death, that derides you too --
Death, as he goes
His ragman's round, espies you, where you stray,
With half-an-eye, and kicks you out of his way
And then -- and then, who knows
But the kind Grave
Turns on you, and you feel the convict Worm,
In that black bridewell working out his term,
Hanker and grope and crave?
"Poor fool that might --
That might, yet would not, dared not, let this be,
Think of it, here and thus made over to me
In the implacable night!"
And writhing, fain
And like a triumphing lover, he shall take,
His fill where no high memory lives to make
His obscene victory vain.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Resolutions
Each New Year's Eve I used to brood
On my misdoings of the past,
And vowed: "This year I'll be so good -
Well, haply better than the last."
My record of reforms I read
To Mum who listened sweetly to it:
"Why plan all this, my son?" she said;
"Just do it."
Of her wise words I've often thought -
Aye, sometimes with a pang of pain,
When resolutions come to naught,
And high resolves are sadly vain;
The human heart from failure bleeds;
Hopes may be wrecked so that we rue them . . .
Don't let us dream of lovely deeds -
Just do them.
And so, my son, uphold your pride.
Believe serenely in your soul.
Just take things in a steady stride,
Until behold! you've gained your goal.
But if, perchance, you frame a plan
Of conduct, let it be a free one:
Don't try to make yourself a man -
Just be one.
poem by Robert William Service
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A timid grace sits trembling in her eye
A timid grace sits trembling in her eye,
As loath to meet the rudeness of men's sight,
Yet shedding a delicious lunar light
That steeps in kind oblivious ecstasy
The care-crazed mind, like some still melody:
Speaking most plain the thoughts which do possess
Her gentle sprite: peace, and meek quietness,
And innocent loves, and maiden purity:
A look whereof might heal the cruel smart
Of changed friends, or fortune's wrongs unkind:
Might to sweet deeds of mercy move the heart
Of him who hates his brethren of mankind.
Turned are those lights from me, who fondly yet
Past joys, vain loves, and buried hopes regret.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Voices of Earth
We have not heard the music of the spheres,
The song of star to star, but there are sounds
More deep than human joy and human tears,
That Nature uses in her common rounds;
The fall of streams, the cry of winds that strain
The oak, the roaring of the sea's surge, might
Of thunder breaking afar off, or rain
That falls by minutes in the summer night.
These are the voices of earth's secret soul,
Uttering the mystery from which she came.
To him who hears them grief beyond control,
Or joy inscrutable without a name,
Wakes in his heart thoughts bedded there, impearled,
Before the birth and making of the world.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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Access To Success
To attain a successful life-cum-career
You must be a non-stop warrior
Heart must be a confidence-career
To remove each hindering barrier
To achieve success you must have ardor
You must also persevere harder
Thoughts must be arranged in order
As they are rungs to the success-ladder
In a day Rome was not built
Let not initial failure give guilt
In time-river, experience is the silt
In future, life-boat will not tilt
Let not thoughts make somersault
As tears will flow from eye-vault
Human life without any fault
Is like a sea without salt
Life is a precious jewel
To end, one day, you must sell
Worry makes life a hell
To that hell say farewell
Through a carefully planned strategy
Everyone must become a prodigy
Worry is a soul-killing allergy
It will sap your whole energy
Whenever defeats are met
Do not fume and sadly fret
Success is in efforts I bet
Hard-work is the best outlet
Walk always on the right path
Live unto the last only for truth
Improper victory incurs God's wrath
Let 'Hard-work' be your only oath
Victory must dry tears, not produce
Power of thinking, do not abuse
World's burden every act must reduce
In a noble heart lives God, I deduce
Pray to the mighty Almighty
Have with peace a treaty
Let not heart feel weighty
As stars in the sky are plenty.
poem by Mailrangam Visvanathan Venkataraman
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Jewels of tears
life has witness, our growth, the pain, the joy, and dream
where what our heart desire, so close to our self, that it
transcent every journey to the unknown of what is beyond
our comprehension
every tears has memories to tell, like a meadows in the
marshes of ashes in the limbo of agony, so painful to
feel, and other are joyous as well, a meaning that tells that
every experiences, is interwoven to every growth of our
body and soul posses
a tears that fall, makes a call, and every tear drops that
show in the cheek, takes a paddle near to the shore,
where success is sure, the tears that has gone is one
ladder to the stairway of heaven where we are always
be ready
the place where everyone wish to be there, each steps
are made of tears that fall, in every pray you call, human
aspiration is heard, when our heart and soul is ready to
receive God's mercy
let our teardrops be dropped, in the ladder of tears,
for in every tears is a step, you step, near to the jewels
of tears, that leads you to eternity, where the heavenly
Father is your destiny
poem by Antonio Liao
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Evil Mind
Crawling through age with your anger and rage
Hiding away from your past
Here in this time we ain't living in crime
You can not ignore our rules
Don't try to challenge our God
Cause he's got the strength that no man possess
Don't be a pain in his ass abandon your evil thoughts
I am a man who is send to your land
To defeatyour mighty one
I will bring darkness with honour and pride
Please tell your Lord to hide
Don't try to challenge our God
Cause he's got the strength that no man possess
Don't be a pain in his ass abandon your evil thoughts
He have to fight I will challenge he's might
And soon I will rule this world
Don't be to sure our God will not fall
He will destroy your black force
Don't try to challenge our God
Cause he's got the strength that no man possess
Don't be a pain in his ass abandon your evil thoughts
song performed by by Zonata
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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