Related quotes: Grief thief of time crawls...

Grief Thief Of Time

Grief thief of time crawls off,
The moon-drawn grave, with the seafaring years,
The knave of pain steals off
The sea-halved faith that blew time to his knees,
The old forget the cries,
Lean time on tide and times the wind stood rough,
Call back the castaways
Riding the sea light on a sunken path,
The old forget the grief,
Hack of the cough, the hanging albatross,
Cast back the bone of youth
And salt-eyed stumble bedward where she lies
Who tossed the high tide in a time of stories
And timelessly lies loving with the thief.

Now Jack my fathers let the time-faced crook,
Death flashing from his sleeve,
With swag of bubbles in a seedy sack
Sneak down the stallion grave,
Bull's-eye the outlaw through a eunuch crack
And free the twin-boxed grief,
No silver whistles chase him down the weeks'
Dayed peaks to day to death,
These stolen bubbles have the bites of snakes
And the undead eye-teeth,
No third eye probe into a rainbow's sex
That bridged the human halves,
All shall remain and on the graveward gulf
Shape with my fathers' thieves.

poem by Dylan Thomas
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Related quotes

Between Grief And Nothing

Between grief and nothing some will take grief,
but those who take nothing will surely regret
that they can’t be robbed in good time, that’s a thief,
of memories grief cannot make them forget.

In Jean-Paul Godard’s “Breathless” Patricia Clarke, whose short hair is like that of Marion Amsellem whom someone once accused of being a lesbian although, as someone said at her funeral today, “She hasn’t got a gay bone in her body, ” asks Jean-Paul Belmondo, who is lying in her hotel bedroom smoking a cigarette, of course, and trying to screw her for the third time in his life: “Do you know William Faulkner? ” “No, ” he replies. “Have you slept with him? ” “No, ” she replies, and adds, “He is a writer, and I want to read you something from “The Wild Palms.” And she reads aloud: “Between grief and nothing I will take grief.”

5/20/08

poem by Gershon Hepner
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Dark Trinity

Said I to Pain: "You would not dare
Do ill to me."
Said Pain: "Poor fool! Why should I care
Whom you may be?
To clown and king alike I bring
My meed of bane;
Why should you shirk my chastening?"
Said Pain.

Said I to Grief: "No tears have I,
Go on your way."
Said Grief: "Why should I pass you by,
While others pay?
All men must know the way of woe,
From saint to thief,
And tears were meant to overflow,"
Said Grief.

Said I to Death: "From ail and fret
Grant me relief."
Said Death: "I know you are beset
By Pain and Grief.
But my good will you must await
Since human breath
To suffering is consecrate,"
Said Death.

Said I to God: "Pale Sister Grief,
Bleak Brother Pain,
Bedevil me beyond belief,
And Death's unfain . . ."
Said God: "Curse not that blessed Three,
Poor human clod!
Have faith! Believe the One with Me,"
Said God.

poem by Robert William Service
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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
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Once A Thief

So youve decided to set me free
Ive paid my debt to society
Fresh out of jail trying to make a new start
On the street with a bitter heart
But my past keeps on haunting me
There aint no chance for a man with my history
Once a thief
Always a suspect
Once a liar
Never be believed
Will they ever forget that
I was once a thief?
I was out in the cold
I was soaked to the skin
I needed a home
And your heart took me in
Then I heard all the lies
And I lost my belief
You threw away my hope
And you called me a thief
So youve decided to set me free
Im out of jail but youve still got the key
There was a time when I thought you respected me
But somehow you always suspected me
Once a thief
Always a suspect
Once a liar
Never be believed
Will they ever forget that
I was once a thief?
Instead of offering me charity,
You shouldve tried to put some faith in me
Instead of making me a better man,
You kept reminding me of what I am
Instead of offering me charity,
You shouldve tried to put some faith in me
How many years must a criminal pay?
Until hes old and his hair turns to gray
You smile at me
But I know underneath
Youre thinking
Once a thief always a suspect.
Once a thief
Always a suspect
Once a liar
Never be believed
Will they ever forget that
I was once a thief?

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Villanelle on a Proverb

The heart once broken is a heart no more.
—Edna St. Vincent Millay

The proverb says that time confers relief,
heals a crimson gash or knits whole a bone
and years unlock a knuckled fist of grief

that clenches emptiness in disbelief
to keep one's wits from being overthrown,
while time, the proverb says, confers relief

from cleaving wounds, paradoxical thief,
that also tears apart fused hearts grown
beyond the lock of knuckled-fisted grief

half-hearts collapsed empty in unbelief
at finalities beneath lids of stone,
while time, proverbially, confers relief

by bleaching wounds to scars—its chief
repair—but cannot heal a heart left alone
although the years unlock the fist of grief,

proclaiming the proverbial motif
that all wounds heal, time cannot atone
for vacancy. The proverb lies. Relief
unlocks a fist, but not the archived grief.

poem by William F Dougherty
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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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We Gave Her A Bouquet Of Roses

We gave her a bouquet of roses to place on her baby's grave
The baby girl born alive that the doctors could not save
The birth of new born baby a time of joy and cheer
But if the new born baby die such news none wish to hear.

She has to weep her grief away and shed those painful tears
Or else the hurt will stay with her for years and years and years
To bottle up her sense of loss will only cause more pain
She has to shed her grief in tears or with her 'twill remain.

She carried her child for nine months looked to the birth with joy
But her happiness was snatched from her in the twinkling of an eye
My thoughts go to her husband too his expectations high
But tragedy visited him he watched his baby die.

What can one say at a time like this there's nothing one can say
To ease the burden of the grief that they must feel today
Nine months of expectations in a moment snatched away
But sun as ever waits to shine behind the clouds of gray.

A bouquet of flowers and sympathy card to place on baby's grave
But how can any one expect of them at such time to be brave
They have to let their feelings show and weep their grief away
For if not sorrow will live on and hurt with them will stay.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Be Not Proud

Oh Death be not proud,
Oh Grave be not shallow
For out reaching your darkened hand
And refusing a boy, to become a man.
Oh grave I feel your sting
And Death I hear you sing
From the lives that you do take
From the lives, to you we gave.
Oh grave, be not proud
For taking the little child
For refusing them yet to grow,
Unto the Adults, they'll never know.
Death be not proud
For arriving as a thief
To break the heart and shatter the soul
To only fill it, with your grief.
Death be not proud
Grave be not victorious
Pain be not loud
Sorrow, be not continuous.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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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
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The Big Jack

I know you and you know me
We met many years ago
In the halls ofe some ivy covered university
Where we both used to go
Now we stand outside the denmark hotel
With japanese men in ther business suits
Its midnight youre talking to some frenchman
About who does what to you know who
You want the big jack
You want the sky to crack
You want something thats goin? to give you
The big jack
You want the big jack
Hell we all want that
You want something thats goin? to give you
The big jack
You say you want to go somewhere
Where your ideals were much more than luxuries
And just like some great old painting
You set there so smug
Whith your hands between your knees
You want the big jack
You want the sky to crack
You want something thats goin? to give you
The big jack
You want the big jack
Hell we all want that
You want something thats goin? to give you a
Heart attack
So go back down to that missisippi town
Where you come from
Have a big time tonight
I can still see you in your fathers coat
On the delta shore
That he once owned
I want to be your fathers coat
I want you girl to matty me
I want the big jack
I want the sky to crack
I want something thats goin? to give me
The big jack
I want the big jack
Hell we all want that
I want something thats goin? to give me a
Heart attack
I want the big jack
Yeah we all want that
We want something thats going to give us the big jack
I want the big jack
I want the sky to crack
I want something thats going to give me the big jack

song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0012 'Only one life was lost in this disaster

The water’s not so deep
down here, it’s still stirred
on the sea-bed by the off-shore tide.
The seaweed waves in slow rhythm, almost gracefully.

Sometimes a crab, going somewhere not apparent
with laborious stubborn intent
displaces very slightly the bone-white skeleton
lying on its back, almost relaxed, almost temporary,
as if waiting for time to give some signal
to turn those stark claws back into a son’s hands

or the current turns a few degrees the eyeless head,
the young jaw, as a light sleeper
in a dream, submissive to the tide;

peaceful; down here
in this filtered light
death, grief, tears, a mother's memories
seem unknown, have no place.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Village Of Hopes And Dreams

As we all come upon a death of a certain loved one
We all grief in the same way with our heads down.
As we all lose the championship,
We all grief in the same way with our heads down.
As we all fail a test, of which we tried so hard on,
We grief in the same way with our heads down.
As we all walk in the rain the same, so sad
The mood of the storm changes us
We all grief in the same way with our heads down.
As we all cry the same with blood-shot eyes, hoping no one sees us,
We all grief in the same way with our heads down.
As we all pray to God that this pain will stop,
We never think what we’ve down for him.
As I have lost something so great,
I lift my head to the sky
Pray to God that he will bless me with the opportunity
Of doing better next time.
As I learned from my elders the way you walk can tell a lot about yourself.
So I walk with my head up high, knowing God has sent his angels
To guide me in my path.
And if I did grief in the same way as others, with my head down.
I know that the Devil will be staring me down.
And as I walk home on this rainy day,
I pray that sunshine is on its way!
As I’ve cried in this stall,
I got on my knees and prayed to God to let these tears stop
With hopes and dreams I get from him,
Smiling each day because I know I am strong.

poem by Rachel Martin
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Vaginismus

a siren of light bleaking out
and now it's time to pull away
into the ocean, into the sea
we always look on tv
no one lives this last day
of generation x
for living now is the sin of all time
the sin of all time
this is where it breaks down
and now the time is seeping through
into the back of front of you
now is the end of the world
and then they tie you up
into a knot, into a cloud
well into the ground
where satan lives
to bring all you kids
up in a world
where nothing's down
come into a freaky show
they push you, into the death now
we're in the death wish
we're in the death wish
in the death wish
where it crawls into the walls
into the death wish
where it crawls through the walls
let go, this, now far
no fun with a hole
into the death wish
death wish, death wish

song performed by by Velvet Acid Christ
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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Small Mourning Pieces

No time to prepare
Shoved over cliff by sorrows
Float down now, gently

Grief comes as strong waves
Tide that never seems to ebb
Let it wash your soul

Nasty Opponent
Grief punches all breath away
Never a fair fight

No time for Heroes
Pain strips away a brave face
Wear no mask for now

Heavy stones of grief
Lighten them with memories
Friendships ease the load

Recipe for grief
Fold laughter into sorrow
Make a grief soufflé

Someone, unseen, cares
Patting shoulder from afar
Dwell in gentle thoughts

Some point you forward
Others put words in your mouth
Follow your own voice

Walking in grief's field
Plant dark flowers in the ground
Teardrops are the rains

Morning light is harsh
Wander away from sadness
Dreams infuse the night

poem by Mary Havran
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Impregnable Darkness

In the womb of deep slumber,
In the arms of unawareness,
Under the blanket of impregnable darkness,
You lie alone like the frozen hopes of a dying man,
Oblivious of the pain and grief doing riot,
Tired and eyes shut to the stabs of grief.

The bond of common pain binds us nearer;
I, on the visible side of the moon,
Find my pains stab in lunar rhythms,
While you, on the invisible side,
Hide from the stabs and wounds of grief
In the slow grind of the loneliness
And run with the time to far horizons.

I know, my cries never reach your ears,
A wall of time stands between us
And deepens our grief and common pain.

poem by Praveen Kumar
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A Wall Of Time

I know, my cries never reach your ears,
A wall of time stands between us
And deepens our grief and common pain.

poem by Praveen Kumar
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Disingenuousness

Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.

Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:

Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!

Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.

The March of Death

Death death death death death death death death death death death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Beyond the grief.

It seems as if we are stalled by our grief,
unable to move away from it – and I wonder
if we will ever get over the loss of you. In time
they say we will, that one day we will finally be free
of the sadness that burdens our hearts, and we will dance
in our remembrance, and there will be no more tears.

But if that's true, I must admit I will miss the tears
when there is an eventual easing of the grief.
I am not as eager to begin the dance
of life without you, for the world has lost its wonder
for me, some of its shine - and being free
seems awfully relative - I suppose just like time.

I can still so clearly recall the last time
we were all together - the tears
we shared, even laughter, when you were set free
of this earthly pain - and even in our grief,
we were filled with such wonder
as we witnessed the end of life's dance.

When I was a little boy you used to let me dance
on the top of your shoes, moving in time
to the music on the radio. Is it any wonder
that music, to this day, brings tears
of joy, mingled with the ever-present grief,
which still has not set me completely free.

I now realize there is a cost to love; it's not free -
for when you love, you buy a ticket to the dance
of life - which comes with joy and pain, celebration and grief.
And if you have lived a long enough time,
as I have, even when the loss brings never ending tears,
with a broken heart, it's worth all of the pain, and it's no wonder

people love so fiercely - so much so that they cease to wonder
about the why, when or where - and now I realize that I am free
to love, and to lose, which will bring with it many tears.
But each tear is worth it - and seems to make the dance
more authentic. In the end, I will measure my time
by how much of it was filled with love, and with grief.

No longer will I wonder whether or not I should dance,
I will just be free, stepping in and out of time,
wearing my tears like a badge of honor as I move beyond the grief.

poem by Mahfooz Ali
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I Get High

Too bad I dont get my own way,
want champagne all they got is cabernet,
and Im wasting all my time.
I feel good but theres a tear in my eye,
rain falling from a cloudless sky,
I get high, forget about it all.
Red light flashing behind my cracked up rearview mirror,
thunder crashing down and screaming in my ear.
I guess I drew a bad card somewhere down the line
and Ill never win my money all back.
Im only here for a limited time,
probably see me hanging around by the railroad tracks.
I get high.
We used to have a house down by the shore,
every night wed take a walk to the liquor store,
and wed get wasted all the time.
I hit the city when I lost you girl,
not so pretty its a different world.
I get high, forget about it all.
Red light flashing behind my cracked up rearview mirror.
thunder crashing down and screaming in my ear.
I guess I drew a bad card somewhere down the line,
and Ill never win my money all back
Im only here for a limited time,
and then I got a bag to pack.
Im going down, Im going down, Im going down, Im going down.
Too bad I dont get my own way,
maybe you and me can try to get together someday,
because Im wasting all my time.
I feel good, but theres a tear in my eye,
rain falling from a cloudless sky,
I get high, forget about it all.
I get high, forget about it all.
I get high, forget about it all.

song performed by by Fastball
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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