Sonnet: John Keats
It was a pretty Flow’r in full blossom!
One that had grown, despite many travails;
When like a bolt, it broke to meet its doom;
Consumed in youthful years by cruel gales.
The Flower made the plant and landscape proud;
By premature demise, left utter gloom;
Its fragrance reached far like Milton’s voice loud;
Could not the Maker find it a Bee-groom?
All born and bred ’midst poverty and strife,
Some Bards on earth sipped gall and poison’d drink;
Some ruthlessly denied a fruitful life,
Were turned to dust before they could well ink.
The Keatsian odes will live for long to tell,
And toll aloud with pride, Poesy’ bell!
6-10-2000
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: Dirge or Anthem?
The String of Life when God cuts premature,
For Bards young who had burnt their midnight-oil,
Angered I feel at God’s cruel nature,
Is this His earthly reward for their toil?
Hit by disease and utter poverty,
In vain they’d struggled for mere existence;
Deserving though ne’er came prosperity;
They were given the earthly death-sentence!
Why hast Thou been God, so cruel to them?
If only they were allowed to live long,
My Dirge should have been turned into Anthem;
This would have become my most joyous song.
But wait, perhaps thou didst do what was best;
Rebuke God not; He gives at times men test!
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: Elixir of Life
O God, give me the Elixir of Life
To stay alive a century or more;
Thou free me forever from all my strife;
In divine love, let heart, mind and soul grow!
Poets of past years had a short life-span,
And died of disease, poverty and strife;
I wish to live long, die a holy man;
Give me on earth a spiritual Bard-life!
Could I be happy on earth and heaven?
Aware I am, Thou made me from mere clod;
Why didst Thou make me bard amidst such men?
What do I give Thee in return, O God?
Poems of mine will vindicate my love
And live for long, before I fly above!
(9-20-2000)
poem by John Celes
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The Rose-plant
A plant bore roses ten in number all,
And two got nipped when young by Nature’s way;
One blossomed to adorn God’s celestial throne;
Six bloomed becoming beauteous flowers big,
To put forth seed that fell on fertile soil,
That grew into rose-plants like their parents.
One still remains a flower big on mother-plant:
Weathered a bit, perfuming her landscape;
She yearned but could not turn into a seed!
Nevertheless, she bowed to Divine Will.
The soil was good in which the rose-plant grew,
Watered by rain and bathed by sun for years;
God’s grace and mercy nurtured her growth-curve;
Life’s storms and strife could not up-root the plant.
The mother-plant is very old in age;
Her life-partner left years back to God’s Home;
She lives by sheer will-pow’r, amidst her own,
And thanks the Maker for blessing her life;
God’s plans and ways are strange and mysterious;
Yet, earthlings must abide by Will Divine;
God gives us freedom to decide and act;
But Heaven must remain our goal always.
poem by John Celes
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Neo Cons
They are known as neo cons and they live the good life
But they show no compassion for those in financial strife
And with economic rationalization they totally agree
Economic rationalization that for many spells utter poverty
They are at the right side of the social divide
Where the gap between the haves and the have nots has grown ever wide
And not much advantage to you a booming economy
If you are despondent and in poverty,
The neo cons have their own exclusive club
You will not find their type down at the local pub
With other neo's and neo cons in posh restaurants they dine
And they only drink the most expensive of wine
And compassion is a word they never do use
And they refer to poor people as those born to lose.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Valentine’s day
Valentine’s Day of nineteen ninety nine;
‘Twas the forty-second birthday of mine!
A day, I cannot forget in my life!
My first book of poems published ’midst strife.
Eight months’ poetic work came to lime-light!
My Pen’s struggle got covered with delight;
It started like India’s Pokhran Blast!
And ended with a fine finish at last.
I have joined the band of Poets today!
A proud Indian Poet, I should say;
Stunning array of poems, I display;
My heart pounds with music and is gay.
Just a sample of my poetic skill,
Like a bolt from the Firmament, it fell;
To my airy lute, loud tolls the Church bell;
Every literary heart is full of thrill.
A turning point in my career, perhaps;
Stimulating my right Brain’s many gaps;
This God-given Talent, I better use;
In me, the world will see a mighty Muse!
The happiest day in my life, I feel;
My yester-years’ woes are put under seal;
My Poesy had got off to a fine start;
I’ve got to toil hard for my poet’s art.
poem by John Celes
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Objectified
All beautiful things meet their demise
Flowers in bloom surely will die
Frozen are the wings of the dead butterfly
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Clouds of gray spoil the light of the skies
The ocean must fall in order to rise
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
I knew I was doomed when you first said, “Hi.”
Two ships in the night, we were bound to collide
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Four months can pass in the blink of an eye
We lose ourselves without having to try
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
The simplest words become hard to define
You can’t see the truth when you cover your eyes
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Your pay the price to take this ride
Slowly, you find that you’re living a lie
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Pictures of us will fade over time
We become strangers in a world so wide
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
You’ll keep on searching for what you won’t find
You’ll lose your faith while I lose my mind
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Sometimes your morals get left behind
It will be too late when you realize
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
poem by Vaida Marea
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In a Boast Stayed Boosted
Consumed,
With a self hatred.
And makes more room....
For a mind to sit,
Assuming doom.
Consumed,
With a self hatred.
And makes more room....
For a mind to sit,
Assuming doom.
Eyes on demise!
With fire and brimstone in their sights.
And tantillized by cries of crisis.
To observe with a wish not to grow from it.
That validates misfits witnessed!
Consumed,
With a self hatred.
And makes more room....
For a mind to sit,
Assuming doom.
Consumed,
With a self hatred.
And makes more room....
For a mind to sit,
Assuming doom.
Proud,
To be among those rowdy!
Those who show no benefit,
That comes to those who stir conflict.
And gloom is a boast stayed boosted.
That feeds upon such limitness,
Of those who love it on their minds and lips.
And...
Consumed,
With a self hatred.
To observe with a wish not to grow from it.
That validates misfits witnessed!
And proud,
To be among those rowdy!
Those who show no benefit,
That comes to those who stir conflict.
And proud,
To be among those rowdy!
Those who show no benefit,
That comes to those who stir conflict.
And proud,
To be among those rowdy!
Those who show no benefit,
That comes to those who stir conflict.
And giving up more attitude...
To those who view them useless,
And...
Consumed,
In a boast stayed boosted!
And ready to be roosters noosed...
Plucked to be served after roasting,
With a juice or good brew!
And...
Consumed,
In a boast stayed boosted!
And...
Consumed,
In a boast stayed boosted!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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On Looking Back Upon My Poesy's Past!
For long a time, I've travelled by this road!
For quite some years, I'd taken poesy's wings;
For hours on end, I struggled with my pen;
A lifetime's work is already now writ!
I did not start expecting great rewards;
I do not hanker for any awards;
I know I'm one among the well-known bards;
My accolades are not yet in my cards!
Many a thing, we do for love of it;
Some things we do better, for we are fit;
Most things in life don't duly get lime-lit;
Nevertheless, we carry on by wit!
But seasons ought to change as time goes on;
It is not good to have always the sun;
Some things in life remain for long half-done;
But pride is one thing we must always shun!
Good poetry must guide the future men;
Good poetry must make the earth, heaven;
Good poetry must kindle heart and ken;
When readers read them, they must say, ‘amen! '
I have done well despite my struggles past;
This earthly span may not for longer last;
My ship of poesy has now a mast;
But I have reached the ocean very vast!
poem by John Celes
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Martha
SEXTON! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
Her weary hands their labor cease;
Good night, poor Martha,-- sleep in peace!
Toll the bell!
Sexton! Martha 's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
For many a year has Martha said,
"I'm old and poor,-- would I were dead!"
Toll the bell!
Sexton! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
She'll bring no more, by day or night,
Her basket full of linen white.
Toll the bell!
Sexton! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
'Tis fitting she should lie below
A pure white sheet of drifted snow.
Toll the bell!
Sexton! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
Sleep, Martha, sleep, to wake in light,
Where all the robes are stainless white.
Toll the bell!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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The Merryman and His Maid
[HE] I have a song to sing, O!
[SHE] Sing me your song, O!
[HE] It is sung to the moon
By a love-lorn loon,
Who fled from the mocking throng, O!
It's the song of a merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye.
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me - lackadaydee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
[SHE] I have a song to sing, O!
[HE] Sing me your song, O!
[SHE] It is sung with the ring
Of the song maids sing
Who love with a love life-long, O!
It's the song of a merrymaid, peerly proud,
Who loved a lord, and who laughed aloud
At the moan of the merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sore, whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me - lackadaydee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
[HE] I have a song to sing, O!
[SHE] Sing me your song, O!
[HE] It is sung to the knell
Of a churchyard bell,
And a doleful dirge, ding dong, O!
It's a song of a popinjay, bravely born,
Who turned up his noble nose with scorn
At the humble merrymaid, peerly proud,
Who loved that lord, and who laughed aloud
At the moan of the merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me - lackadaydee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
[SHE] I have a song to sing, O!
[HE] Sing me your song, O!
[SHE] It is sung with a sigh
And a tear in the eye,
For it tells of a righted wrong, O!
It's a song of a merrymaid, once so gay,
Who turned on her heel and tripped away
From the peacock popinjay, bravely born,
Who turned up his noble nose with scorn
At the humble heart that he did not prize;
And it tells how she begged, with downcast eyes,
For the love of a merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
[BOTH] Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me - lackadaydee!
His pains were o'er, and he sighed no more.
For he lived in the love of a ladye!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Proud To Be Loud
Listen up good
I got a lot to say
I know what I want
And I get my own way
I call em as I see em
I dont play by the book
One dose of volume
Thats all it took
Ive seen it, Ive done it
Ive heard it before
Now its my turn
To settle the score
Ill sing it, Ill shout it
Ill say it again
I dont care if they
Never give in cause im
Proud to be loud
Proud to be loud
You know Im proud
Proud to be loud
Well Ive alway believed
In freedom of speech
And Ive always been the one
Who practiced what I preached
Love it or leave it
Ill give you the choice
But itll snow in hell
Before I lower my voice
I live it, I breathe it
I gotta have more
Its full blast
And this means war
The power, the glory
Its callin my name
I wont start to
Play their game cause im
Proud to be loud
Proud to be loud
Im proud to be loud
And Ill never
Turn it down again no!!
Proud to be loud
Proud to be loud
Im proud,
Proud to be loud
song performed by by Pantera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: My Poetry
When foul an air, I’d breathed since my childhood,
When water lost its taste over the years,
When Righteous men too gave in to falsehood,
And worldly things turned bad for eyes and ears!
When hunger drove me mad until manhood,
When opportunities right never came,
When dangers lurked in every neighborhood,
And talents couldn’t win love of ev’n one dame!
When temptations made man sin all through life,
When poverty denied the little chance,
When laugh I had to ’midst my daily strife,
And unfair tunes in life forced me to dance!
When Time’s lessons made heart and mind more numb,
From frustration, my Poetry did come!
6-17-2001
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: A Poet’s Life
Oh, how some poets have suffered in life!
In trying to eke their just livelihood;
To most, their most intimate friend was strife;
Orphaned and desperate right from childhood.
Oh, how they had run from pillar to post!
Doing odd jobs and working through the night;
Poverty remained forever a ghost;
For long years, denied were they of limelight.
Much vexed, some gave in to many a vice,
To taste an iota of so-called joy!
Their poems great offered others advice;
Alas! they remained an ill-fated toy.
Could not the Maker protect them from strife?
Perhaps, they all await a better life.
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: Cost of Human-life
Highest in the ladd’r of Evolution,
The cost of human life is human life;
The Maker’s beloved ultimate creation,
Man; for Adam, He made Eve as wife.
’Tis utter foolishness to away take
Life, after it was allowed to be formed;
Or a cruel, faintest attempt to make
Life; to end it just ’cause it was deformed
Blessed is the man, who saves human lives,
Giving longevity and quality;
Blessed is he who a new lease to give, strives,
For, it is an act of nobility.
The man who prevents a premature death
Is great in God’s eyes, in Heaven and Earth.
poem by John Celes
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Flower of Sky.
Flower of sky blossom
in deepest darkness of sky
it can never blossom during day
because it has fear
all petals may burn in hot sun
Who has seen the flower of sky
perhaps none
because it blossom
in deepest darkness of sky
When it blossom
its fragrance spreads throughout the sky
so all stars come out
to enjoy thee fragrance
Sorrows of life
is like flower of sky
it always come during bad days
then so many stars appear
to impart the sorrows of life
then we can realise
the mystic flavor of life
poem by Ramesh Rai
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Blossom Friend
Black days of winter all were through
The blossoms came and they brought you
Clouds left the sky
And I knew the reason why
They made way for you and the blossom.
The seasons cycle turned again
An april shower now and then
Trees came alive
And the bees left their hive
They came out to see you and the blossom.
People were laughing, smiling with the sun
They knew that summer had begun.
The nights grew warm, the days grew long
Spring turned to summer and was gone
It seemed so fine
All the cider and the wine
But I knew youd go with the blossom.
When spring returns Ill look again
To find another blossom friend
Until I do
Find something new
Ill just think of you and the blossom.
song performed by by Nick Drake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The White Rose
A lonely kid had no friends,
within his home his world ends.
He used to dream about colorful roses,
his love for roses was in heavy doses.
His nights filled with fears and tears,
days rolled like million years.
His mom took him to a rose garden one day,
she wanted to buy him a rose plant for his birthday.
The rose plants giggled about the boys face.
Their words wiped his happiness without a trace.
A dropp of his tear fell on a white rose's petal.
The petal turned red like a rare earth metal.
The plant pleaded him 'please don't cry'.
The words of the rose plant made him fly.
He took that plant to his garden.
From then his life was a gladden.
He took care of the white rose like a baby.
Loving that white rose was his full-time hobby.
His dreams and heart were filled with love.
His heart was pure like the whitest dove.
At an evening the rose looked dull and dry.
The kid was full of cry and wondering why,
he didn't stopped his painful weep,
that whole night he didn't sleep.
His tired eyes slept for a minute in a doze,
a voice in his dream told something about the rose,
the dawn broke with the rose blooming,
but the kid was gone missing.
He was never been found not even a hint.
His heart was beating under the roots of the rose plant.
Because in his dream he heard that,
the rose can live forever with a human heart.
So he left his heart and he depart.
poem by Vimal Kumar N
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The Easter Lily
A little child, as winter turned to spring,
Tended a lily-plant with patient care,
Thinking, when she should see it blossoming,
To set it on the chancel-step; that there,
When Easter dawned on Lent, the spotless thing
Might on the feast-day be her offering,
Lifting its own white face to One more fair.
But, as the plant grew upward day by day,
Raising itself from earth towards the sky,
So seemed the child from earth to draw away,
The while she feared to see the lily die;
Unthinking that, ere broke the Easter ray,
She might her own white soul before Him lay
For Whom she sought the flower to sanctify.
Time passed. The lily bloomed not; and the night
Before the feast had come. And so the child
Sent to the church the cherished plant, despite
’T was but an unblown bud; and—reconciled
That on the altar-step, midst flowers white,
Her poor green stalk watched out the silent flight
Of hours until the morn—contented smiled.
• • • • • • • •
Fair broke the dawn upon the altar’s hem
Of lilies, breathing Easter greeting sweet;
But, with the night that so perfected them,
The child’s own spirit fled, the Light to meet
Beyond the heaven’s roseate diadem;
And, with the morning, bloomed upon the stem
The fair, white soul her own had longed to greet!
poem by Guy Wetmore Carryl from The Garden of Years and Other Poems (1893)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Lament For James, Earl Of Glencairn
1.
The wind blew hollow frae the hills;
By fits the sun's departing beam
Look'd on the fading yellow woods,
That wav'd o'er Lugar's winding stream.
Beneath a craigy steep a Bard,
Laden with years and meikle pain,
In loud lament bewail'd his lord,
Whom Death had all untimely taen.
2.
He lean'd him to an ancient aik,
Whose trunk was mould'ring down with years;
His locks were bleached white with time,
His hoary cheek was wet wi' tears;
And as he touch'd his trembling harp,
And as he tun'd his doleful sang,
The winds lamenting thro' their caves,
To echo bore the notes alang : -
3.
'Ye scatter'd birds that faintly sing,
The reliques of the vernal quire!
Ye woods that shed on a' the winds
The honours of the aged year!
A few short months, and, glad and gay,
Again ye'll charm the ear and e'e;
But nocht in all revolving time
Can gladness bring again to me.
4.
'I am a bending aged tree,
That long has stood the wind and rain;
But now has come a cruel blast
And my last hold of earth is gane;
Nae leaf o' mine shall greet the spring,
Nae simmer sun exalt my bloom;
But I maun lie before the storm,
And ither plant them in my room.
5.
'I've seen sae monie changefu' years,
On earth I am a stranger grown:
I wander in the ways of men,
Alike unknowing and unknown:
Unheard, unpitied, unreliev'd,
I bear alane my lade o' care;
For silent, low, on beds of dust,
Lie a' that would my sorrows share.
6.
'And last (the sum of a' my griefs!)
My noble master lies in clay;
The flow'r amang our barons bold,
His country's pride, his country's stay:
In weary being now I pine,
For a' the life of life is dead,
And hope has left my aged ken,
On forward wing for ever fled.
7.
'Awake thy last sad voice, my harp!
The voice of woe and wild despair!
Awake, resound thy latest lay,
Then sleep in silence evermair!
And thou, my last, best, only friend,
That fillest an untimely tomb,
Accept this tribute from the Bard
Thou brought from Fortune's mirkest gloom.
8.
'In Poverty's low barren vale,
Thick mists obscure involv'd me round;
Though oft I turn'd the wistful eye,
Nae ray of fame was to be found;
Thou found'st me, like the morning sun
That melts the fogs in limpid air:
The friendless Bard and rustic song
Became alike thy fostering care.
9.
'O, why has Worth so short a date,
While villains ripen grey with time!
Must thou, the noble, gen'rous, great,
Fall in bold manhood's hardy prime?
Why did I live to see the day,
A day to me so full of woe?
O, had I met the mortal shaft
Which laid my benefactor low!
10.
'The bridegroom may forget the bride
Was made his wedded wife yestreen;
The monarch may forget the crown
That on his head an hour has been;
The mother may forget the child
That smiles sae sweetly on her knee;
But I'll remember thee, Glencairn,
And a' that thou hast done for me!'
poem by Robert Burns (1791)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Equine Debt
There's nothing in this world this horse does lack,
Save a proud rider on the noblest of backs.
Down the years he has stood,
Through all bad and all good.
He has toiled and fought,
With we humans, for nought
Save our ego and pride.
For this cause he has died
In the battles of life.
Through trouble and strife.
Steadfast he has carried
Us through when we've tarried.
Putting humans to shame,
With our physical game.
He's shown us to rise,
Reach life's ultimate prize.
To be humble not proud,
To be soft, never loud.
In the final place rest
He has passed the time test,
That of faithfulness true.
His goodness shines through.
Unconditional loyalty,
Born of humility.
Beside this, mere humans, what do we have to give?
Just our love thanks and gratitude, as long as we live.
poem by Rosi Caswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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