Grief changes shape, but it never ends.
quote by Keanu Reeves
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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In the long run, we shape our lives, and we shape ourselves. The process never ends until we die. And the choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility.
quote by Eleanor Roosevelt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shape Me Like A Man
Spark my body into existence
Breath your life into me
Fill these eyes with temptation
Work your mystery
Make me in the image you desire
Raise me up from the earth
Let me be your creation
Women, give me birth
Take me in your hands
And shape me like a man
Shape me like a man
Put this broken body in motion
With a strong and natural drive
Fill my flesh with sensation
Women let me know Im alive
Take me in your hands
And shape me like a man
Shape me like a man
Like a man
Shape me like a man
Like a man
Shape me like a man
Like a man
Take me in your hands
And shape me like a man
Like a man
Shape me like a man
Like a man
Like a man
Shape me like a man
Like a man
Shape me like a man
Make me like a man
song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shape In A Drape
There's a guy going round the town
You got to check what he is puttin' down
Just one look you know the story is great
He's the guy the chicks love
And the cats can't hate
He's a shape in a drape
A shape in a drape
He's a shape in a drape
And you can dig that he is stookin'
Now some say he's a clipster and a tailor's toad
And he could hype a miserman for all his gold
Some say he's a hipster and some say nix
But everyone's solid when he gets his kicks
He's a shape in a drape
A shape in a drape
He's a shape in a drape
And he is sure alive and kickin'
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happiness
Happiness is silent, or speaks equivocally for friends,
Grief is explicit and her song never ends,
Happiness is like England, and will not state a case,
Grief, like Guilt, rushes in and talks apace.
poem by Stevie Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shape Of Things To Come
Magic, logic
The system works, but not for me
Look beyond the nearest moment
And youll see
The shape of things to come
Somewhere deep in the city
I can feel you I know youre here
Baby, Im just a pussy-cat
But not a one that you should fear
One, two, always love you
One, two, move up above you
Two, two, right in the face
Yes sir, no sir, three bags full so
The shape of things to come
The shape of things to come
Let me get you outta here
Tragic, logic
The system hurts, but not for me
I look beyond the farest moment
And I say
The shape of things to come
The shape of things to come
The shape of things to come
The shape of things to come
The shape of things to come
The shape of things to come
The shape of things to come
Somewhere deep in the system
I can see you but youre not clear
A simple case of error correction
Come on baby, get your ass in gear
One, two, always love you
One, two, move up above you
Two, two, right in the face
Of sir, no sir, three bags full so
The shape of things to come
Let me get your outta here
The shape of things to come
Look into my eyes and Ill make your day
The shape of things to come
Good things, great things, all just same things
The shape of things to come
The shape of things to come
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hope in Heaven's Day
Grief be mine, I ask you so,
If not for you, I wouldn't know,
How life once was and then be still,
How so precious, that death do steal.
Because that grief, won't go away,
Learn to let it have its way.
The link to love, a precious one,
Is met with grief and still not done.
The days do come, and nights do go,
Grief will stay as time is so.
And so a loved one passes on,
And grief comes in and carries on.
Does grief get better, I will ask,
It's hard to say, while at its task.
There is grief to help us cope,
There is God to give us hope.
Grief will surely go away,
On that glorious heaven's day.
But while its here, there's just one thing,
Pray our Lord, for peace he'll bring.
poem by Arlene Dery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Shape of the Wind...
The arctic blasts turn men into plaster casts,
They take the shape of the wind.
The ragged sails lashed by the gales,
Are full of the the shape of the wind.
The shrewd and wise, with half closed eyes,
Can guess the way of the wind.
They bend and bow, and go with the flow,
They take the shape of the wind.
The evening fires make crooked spires,
As they give way to the shape of the wind.
My ice cold breath meets it’s sudden death,
As it takes the shape of the wind.
And all our life, with all it’s strife,
Is nought but the shape of the wind.
So no longer resist, just desist,
And accept the shape of the wind.
poem by John Coldwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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(He's A) Shape In A Drape
(words and music by Joe Jackson)
There's a guy going round the town
You got to check what he is puttin' down
Just one look you know the story is great
He's the guy the chicks love
And the cats can't hate
He's a shape in a drape
A shape in a drape
He's a shape in a drape
And you can dig that he is stookin'
Now some say he's a clipster and a tailor's toad
And he could hype a miserman for all his gold
Some say he's a hipster and some say nix
But everyone's solid when he gets his kicks
He's a shape in a drape
A shape in a drape
He's a shape in a drape
And he is sure alive and kickin'
(C) 1988 by Pokazuka Ltd./Tusken Music (ASCAP)
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Friends.... Old Friends......
Friends… old friends…
One sees how it ends.
A woman looks
Or a man lies,
And the pleasant brooks
And the quiet skies,
Ruined with brawling
And caterwauling,
Enchant no more
As they did before,
And so it ends
With friends.
Friends… old friends…
And what if it ends?
Shall we dare to shirk
What we live to learn?
It has done its work,
It has served its turn;
And, forgive and forget
Or hanker and fret,
We can be no more
As we were before.
When it ends, it ends
With friends.
Friends… old friends…
So it breaks, so it ends.
There let it rest!
It has fought and won,
And is still the best
That either has done.
Each as he stands
The work of its hands
Which shall be more
As he was before?…
What is it ends
With friends?
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gestalt....
is it the shape?
the shape of your face, your heart,
is it just the shape, of your body, the color of your hair,
the kinkiness of your eyes,
is it just the shape of the bowl that matters to you?
what about the contents of the
bowl, or if it is empty, what about the air that fills it somehow?
do you see it? no you don't, so
it is not just the shape, neither just the parts,
or the whole, there is something more in shapes and colors
and
even contents,
there is the will that bends everything
to mercy
there is the decision that convinces us all
to be one, this sympathy,
that empathy, that belief that i cannot live
without you,
that someone dies when someone leaves,
that life is better with us
in all these,
that there is life after our deaths,
there is this
unseen coming, this one that we want to
grasp yet
because we think we failed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What old sadness can I let go of by sharing it today
How can we measure the grief we feel and and how we could put up with it. Doesn't the grief of death weight a ton or more. Doesn't it strenth out to a month a year or still longer. Is the grief of failture lighter then then the grief of empyness. Wheather we try to ingore or make light of it our grief like a ton of feathers or a ton of rocks is all the same to us. This much is sure if we lock our grief it will weight more on us. Andlengthen out if we open our hearts with weeping and words others will help carry it away. written and Posted 1/1/10
poem by Susie Sunshine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unknown Grief
Unknown Grief
Mark Kelly Wassenaar (AKA Wazzy)
You never expect to know the word grief
Until it comes to you
It comes in, like a thief
Then you take a critical review
Who really knows what grief is
It could be you, or me, or your teddy bear
If only we could see his
Come with me, I’ll give you a dare
All I ask is that you’ll see
What grief does to you and me
Maybe at the end we’ll all agree
That it need not be all for thee
Have you seen death of one or more
Have they been of love or worse
Does it cause a whole body war
Does it put you in a hearse
If all these apply to you
Maybe you know what grief may be
All this time you withdrew
It makes you feel like abductees
If you like, you may join my cause
Get together with your bands
To end all grief within our paws
To clear our enemy from our hands
poem by Mark Wazzy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grief Is Never Having To Say I Grieve
Your grief has been too heavy
I don’t know how much grief buries you down
Please let me weep with you
Please let me weep with you
Like the others, I adore you for keeping up with life
I could imagine how you cry in your thoughts
How like blade, grief cuts your heart, your throat,
the top of your skull - slowly
Like wars in history, there are no exits
and there are no choices
If you were there, you had to face those rattling guns
Plead, please plead
Remember “Our Lady of Sorrows'
Mary carried part of the grief Jesus has
been carrying to save us, during the crucifixion
Mary had no one with her
She was helpless, yet in those moments
God’s strength kept her unmovable and brave
How long does grief stay?
People are not things
How long does grief stay?
If you lost something, you can always build it again
How long does grief stay?
If you lost someone, and someone, and someone
again, in any way – they are part of you
For as long as you live, grief changes into
remembering happy days with each other
Grief becomes faithfulness
Grief changes unto faith
Those drops of blood, while Jesus prayed in the garden
Is grief
Grief is never having to say “I grieve, ”
but “I love, ”
This is how long grief stays.
poem by Rosalinda Flores Martinez
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A grief ago
'There is no grief
which time does not lessen
or soften' -
so said Cicero, a man so often right;
a Stoic, those for whom
all life presents a lesson
to be learned from,
and then, to move on from..
But I wonder about all this:
is grief ever lessened or softened?
Is it not, perhaps, overlaid
in our so various ways?
For some, grief framed and falsified
to ease that grief;
For some, like hyacinths and crocus bulbs,
left in a dark cupboard in the autumn of our grief
to respond to time, and
become at last
themselves?
gently, gently, the covers pulled
over the loving bed,
the true, the pure, the lovely painful grief,
the memory deep cherished,
gently, gently, folded
into the cupboards of the heart
there to be known, without the door disturbed
until the time - 'a grief ago' as Dylan wrote -
the cupboard opened only for love's sake
without grief...:
those carefully folded memories
brought out and loved
and lived a while...
not grief, not grief...but
the pure memory of grief
and behold,
life.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Threats To Keep A People In Grief
How can we seek solutions...
When our denials love to bask,
In a pleasing done by deceit.
How can we non-fictionalize our lives,
When fiction is all we seek.
How can we ever expect to accept the truth,
When none of it is believed.
And how is a greatness once perceived,
So willing to feed decadence...
And allow conflict and division succeed.
All of these may be questions!
But the opportunity to answer them,
Become threats to keep a people in grief.
Threats to keep a people in grief.
'Why no one answers them? '
They're threats to keep a people in grief!
'Why? '
They're threats to keep a people in grief!
Threats to keep a people in grief.
'Why no one answers them? '
They're threats to keep a people in grief!
'Why? '
Threats to keep a people in grief.
'Why no one answers them? '
They're threats to keep a people in grief!
'Why? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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25
Im afraid I will never change,
Its okay Im not ashamed
I can say that my bed is made
You can bend me, shape me any way you can
Bend me, shape me any way you want me.
I maintain, I am not in pain,
How I try, not to place the blame
I came late to an early game
You can bend me, shape me any way x3
You can bend me, shape me any way you want me
When I was five, I took a dive,
When I was ten, I walked again
When I was fifteen, I kept my motor clean
When I was twenty, I got plenty
When I was twenty-five
When I was twenty-five
song performed by by Veruca Salt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Untitled 18
it is within my power
to change my shape
and be what pleasure
is there to give me
but i cannot, i won't.
the shape you see
when we first met,
shall be the same
when i will finally
leave you. It was
not pleasure that
was the reason.
It was also something
beyond shapes
In fact, the shape
does not matter anymore.
It is temporary.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Grief Ago
A grief ago,
She who was who I hold, the fats and the flower,
Or, water-lammed, from the scythe-sided thorn,
Hell wind and sea,
A stem cementing, wrestled up the tower,
Rose maid and male,
Or, master venus, through the paddler's bowl
Sailed up the sun;
Who is my grief,
A chrysalis unwrinkling on the iron,
Wrenched by my fingerman, the leaden bud
Shot through the leaf,
Was who was folded on the rod the aaron
Road east to plague,
The horn and ball of water on the frog
Housed in the side.
And she who lies,
Like exodus a chapter from the garden,
Brand of the lily's anger on her ring,
Tugged through the days
Her ropes of heritage, the wars of pardon,
On field and sand
The twelve triangles of the cherub wind
Engraving going.
Who then is she,
She holding me? The people's sea drives on her,
Drives out the father from the caesared camp;
The dens of shape
Shape all her whelps with the long voice of water,
That she I have,
The country-handed grave boxed into love,
Rise before dark.
The night is near,
A nitric shape that leaps her, time and acid;
I tell her this: before the suncock cast
Her bone to fire,
Let her inhale her dead, through seed and solid
Draw in their seas,
So cross her hand with their grave gipsy eyes,
And close her fist.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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Dedicated to Hesse's Goldmund
The old master sat,
withering like winter’s flowers
as he shrank -
from encroaching onslaught of creeping death.
He had watched many shapes and faces, so held
shimmering vision on virile edge of his mind.
Afterwards thoughts never ceased to plague
in every shape, a certain form repetition of line.
I think matters not what one thought or speaks.
but what we shape with willing hands before time.
So from fetal dream began careful drawing
with loving fingers, clearer its shape defined.
To picture wondrous root of image making; grief transmuted -
seeking to formulate thoughts; the sharper to bind.
Envisaged image was a perfect whole
without flaw, symmetry
sprung from life, from sacrosanct depths,
he held it within his mind.
Then cast it forth like a radiant jewel
many faceted,
even in darkness,
in faintest light it will shine.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Shape Im In
Go out yonder, peace in the valley
Come downtown, have to rumble in the alley
Oh, you dont know the shape Im in
Has anybody seen my lady
This living alone will drive me crazy
Oh, you dont know the shape Im in
Im gonna go down by the wa - ter
But I aint gonna jump in, no, no
Ill just be looking for my mak - er
And I hear that thats where shes been? oh!
Out of nine lives, I spent seven
Now, how in the world do you get to heaven
Oh, you dont know the shape Im in
I just spent 60 days in the jailhouse
For the crime of having no dough
Now here I am back out on the street
For the crime of having nowhere to go
Save your neck or save your brother
Looks like its one or the other
Oh, you dont know the shape Im in
Now two young kids might start a ruckus
You know they feel you trying to shuck us
Oh, you dont know the shape Im in
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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