Aaron Hatfield
Better than granite, Spoon River,
Is the memory-picture you keep of me
Standing before the pioneer men and women
There at Concord Church on Communion day.
Speaking in broken voice of the peasant youth
Of Galilee who went to the city
And was killed by bankers and lawyers;
My voice mingling with the June wind
That blew over wheat fields from Atterbury;
While the white stones in the burying ground
Around the Church shimmered in the summer sun.
And there, though my own memories
Were too great to bear, were you, O pioneers,
With bowed heads breathing forth your sorrow
For the sons killed in battle and the daughters
And little children who vanished in life's morning,
Or at the intolerable hour of noon.
But in those moments of tragic silence,
When the wine and bread were passed,
Came the reconciliation for us --
Us the ploughmen and the hewers of wood,
Us the peasants, brothers of the peasant of Galilee --
To us came the Comforter
And the consolation of tongues of flame!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Senseless Killing
I saw your sons and daughters today at church;
They were carrying the holy wine, the holy bread,
The chalice, the cross and your sins.
They were not too happy, you killed their mother,
For nonsense, because of your ignorance.
Killing is never acceptable, violence
Should be denounced and rejected.
The children were beautiful at church
Without you, the fool who killed senselessly,
Brainlessly; the zombie which should have remained
Dead in the dungeon of Frankenstein.
May you rot in your deservedly filthy cell;
Your first class seat is reserved in hell;
May your blood burn without fire.
And may your eyes remain wide open, during your entire
Residency in the morbid house of Dr. Halloween Stein.
Copyright © August 2009, Hebert Logerie, All Rights Reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of:
“Mounts and Valleys of Love” and “ Monts et Vallées de l’Amour”
« Sparkles of Love » and « Etincelles de l’Amour »
You can get your copy at xlibris.com, amazon.com, borders.com,
Barnesandnoble.com or bn.com.
poem by Hebert Logerie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The memory river
The memory river painting all of our memories *
Together we passed all of heart solitude*
Followed swift the life flow*
Hoped we love never death*
Constant we needs wrote the story*
The memory river was the picture we have long hopes*
Where all followed the lines of the Lord*
We said was together we have the sorrow*
We said was broken become two*
I'still remember we have ever sitting near in the silent river of silence*
I'still remember we have conscience crying*
Your conscience always said*
Where i'saw sincere from my heart eyes*
The memory river flowed heade the area ocean*
The memory river never dry forevermore*
I'need we said like the river memory*
Never dry we love forevermore*
The Record
HE sleeps, his head upon his sword,
His soldier's cloak a shroud;
His church-yard is the open field,--
Three times it has been plough'd:
The first time that the wheat sprung up
'Twas black as if with blood,
The meanest beggar turn'd away
From the unholy food.
The third year, and the grain grew fair,
As it was wont to wave;
None would have thought that golden corn
Was growing on the grave.
His lot was but a peasant's lot,
His name a peasant's name,
Not his the place of death that turns
Into a place of fame.
He fell as other thousands do,
Trampled down where they fall,
While on a single name is heap'd
The glory gain'd by all.
Yet even he whose common grave
Lies in the open fields,
Died not without a thought of all
The joy that glory yields.
That small white church in his own land,
The lime trees almost hide,
Bears on the walls the names of those
Who for their country died.
His name is written on those walls,
His mother read it there,
With pride,--oh! no, there could not be
Pride in the widow's prayer.
And many a stranger who shall mark
That peasant roll of fame,
Will think on prouder ones, yet say
This was a hero's name.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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Ralph Rhodes
All they said was true:
I wrecked my father's bank with my loans
To dabble in wheat; but this was true --
I was buying wheat for him as well,
Who couldn't margin the deal in his name
Because of his church relationship.
And while George Reece was serving his term
I chased the will-o'-the-wisp of women,
And the mockery of wine in New York.
It's deathly to sicken of wine and women
When nothing else is left in life.
But suppose your head is gray, and bowed
On a table covered with acrid stubs
Of cigarettes and empty glasses,
And a knock is heard, and you know it's the knock
So long drowned out by popping corks
And the pea-cock screams of demireps --
And you look up, and there's your Theft,
Who waited until your head was gray,
And your heart skipped beats to say to you:
The game is ended. I've called for you.
Go out on Broadway and be run over,
They'll ship you back to Spoon River.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Sons Of The Pioneers
(myles goodwyn)
Published by northern goody two tunes, ltd./capac - ascap
Reachin for a space in time, layin our fate on the line
Starting out a life anew, after weve come so far
Wont you look and see now, here we are
You were the ones, there is no doubt
You ate it up and spit it out
You were the ones, you made it clear, you could take it
We are the sons of the pioneers (we are the sons of pioneers)
The day has come, our fate is clear
Were the sons of the pioneers
Sons of the pioneers (sons of the pioneers)
Were not afraid to try (were not afraid to try)
Sons of the pioneers (sons of the pioneers)
Men not afraid of fear
Whats the point of going on, if you feel that it couldnt be done
Cause I just wanna understand, freedoms the soul of a man
Wont you look and see now, and show me how
We have the chance, there is no doubt
Well pick it up, and see it out
We are the ones, you made it clear, we can take it
We are the sons of the pioneers (we are the sons of pioneers)
The day has come, the way is clear
For the sons of the pioneers
Sons of the pioneers (sons of the pioneers)
Men not afraid to try (men not afraid to try)
Sons of the pioneers (sons of the pioneers)
Men not afraid of fear......................fear
When you think of how far weve come, and to know that weve only begun
Leaving us a legacy, makes sense to me
That now our time has come, for we have to move on
You were the ones, there is no doubt
You ate it up and spit it out
You were the ones, you made it clear, you could take it
And now its time, our fate is surely here now
There is no doubt about it, its time we thought about it
We are the ones, the way is clear, for the sons of the pioneers
Sons of the pioneers (sons of the pioneers)
Men not afraid to try (men not afraid to try)
Sons of the pioneers (sons of the pioneers)
Men not afriad of fear
Is there any doubt, none at all, they heard the call of the
Sons of the pioneers (sons of the pioneers)
Men not afraid to try (men not afraid to try)
Sons of the pioneers (sons of the pioneers)
Sons of the pioneers (sons of the pioneers)
Men not afraid to try (men not afraid to try)
Sons of the pioneers (sons of the pioneers)
Men not afraid of fear
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bible in Poetry: Revelation 18
1Another angel from heaven,
Came down with great authority;
His splendor illumined the earth.
2 With mighty voice he shouted then:
'Fallen is Babylon the Great!
A home for demons, she has turned;
A haunt for evil spirits all,
And unclean, detestable bird.
3 For, nations fully drank in her
Madd’ning wine of adulteries.
Kings committed adultery,
And earth’s merchants grew richer soon,
From her excessive luxuries.'
4 I heard a voice from heaven say:
'Come out of her, my people all,
So that, you will not share her sins,
And you will not receive her plagues;
5 Her sins are piled up to heaven,
And God has remembered her crimes.
6 To give her back as she deserved;
Pay her double for her misdeeds,
Double portion from her own cup.
7Give her as much torture and grief,
As glory, luxury she’d had.
For in her heart she boasted then,
'I sit as queen; I’m not widow,
And I will never mourn at all.'
8 In one day’s time, her plagues therefore
Will overtake her ruthlessly:
Death, mourning famine, all over.
She will be consumed by fire,
For mighty Lord God judges her.
9'When kings of earth who committed
Adultery with her and shared
Her luxury, then see the smoke
Of her burning and destruction,
They’ll weep and mourn over her loss.
10 And terrified by her torment,
They will stand far off and cry aloud:
“O 'Woe! O Woe, to city great!
O Babylon, city of pow’r!
In one hour’s time, your doom has come! '
11'The earth’s merchants will weep and mourn
O’er her because now buys no one
Their cargoes from them any more—
12 Cargoes of gold, silver and pearls;
Precious stones, fine linen and silk,
Scarlet cloth; things of citron wood,
And articles of every kind,
Of ivory and costly wood,
Bronze, iron and costly marble;
13 And cargoes of cinnamon, spice,
Of incense, myrrh and frankincense,
Of wine and olive oil, flour, wheat;
Cattle, sheep; horses, carriages;
And bodies, souls of men, women.
14' They’ll say, 'The fruit you longed for long
Is gone from you in moment’s time;
Your riches, splendor have vanished,
And never will be recovered.'
15 The merchants too who sold these things,
And gained their wealth from her will stand
Far, terrified at her torment.
They’ll weep and mourn 16and cry aloud:
“O Woe! O Woe, O great city,
Dressed in linen, purple, scarlet,
Glittering gold, precious stones and pearls!
17In one hour, great wealth has vanished! '
'Every sea captain, and traveler
By ship and sailors, and all men
Who earn their living from the sea,
Will stand far off, in poverty.
18 And when they see her burning smoke,
They will exclaim, 'Was there ever
A city like this great city? '
19 And they will throw dust on their heads,
And weeping, mourning cry aloud:
“O Woe! O Woe, O great city,
Where all who had ships on the sea,
Became so rich through her great wealth!
In one hour, she is in ruin!
20 Rejoice over her, O heaven!
Rejoice, saints, apostles, prophets!
God judged her for the kind of way,
She treated you, when upon earth.' '
21 A mighty angel picked up then,
A boulder, size of large mill-stone
And threw it into sea, and said:
'With similar a violence,
The great city of Babylon
Will be thrown down, ne’er to be found.
22 Music of harpists, musicians,
And flute players and trumpeters,
Will ne’er be heard in you again.
No workman or any trader
Will e’er be found in you again.
The sound of a grinding mill-stone
Will ne’er be heard in you again.
23 Lamp’s-light will never shine in you.
The voice of bridegroom and of bride
Will ne’er be heard in you again.
Your merchants were world's greatest men.
Your magic spell misled nations.
24 In her was found the blood of saints,
Prophets and all killed upon earth.'
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-28-2007
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Untitled Poem - I
Once, one of my students read a book we had.
She was doing a history assignment on
the decline and fall of the Roman Empire
and crying. When I asked her why
she said Because. All those people died.
I said that if you start to cry for the dead
You won’t have much time for anything else.
Besides, after all the city people were killed
or died off, because their cultures got too high,
the barbarians kept some peasants alive
for their food value. Some barbarian raped
some peasant woman who produced
a child who ultimately produced you
and me, so there is this family continuity,
so don’t cry, it’s obvious, look around!
This is the reason why we Americans
are a nation of peasants and barbarians,
poem by Alan Dugan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Church Of Women
A lie for a lie, but a truth for the truth
Church of women is made out of milk
Which their love turns to butter -er -er
Church of women will have you give praise
With a laugh, bark and stutter -er -er
Like us men like us men they are nothing like us men
Men have gargoyles round their hearts
Im on my knees but dancing
Want to worship at the church of women
Breathe em in until my head goes spinning around
Want to worship at the church
Let me worship at the church of women
Church of women is making donations of loving and giving -ing -ing
Church of women performing that miracle raising the living -ing -ing
Like us men like us men will they ever like us men?
Men have thorns around their minds
Im on my mountain preaching
Want to worship at the church of women
Breathe em in until my head goes spinning around
Want to worship at the church
Let me worship at the church of women
Lie for a lie, but a truth for the truth
Give em back their house: the walls, the doors, the floors and roof
And stop tryin to diet on the wafers and wine and submit were in control
Now lets put things right
Lets multiply the loves and kisses
til we have enough to love and eat forever
Want to worship at the church of women
I want to worship at the church of women now
Breathe em in until my head goes spinning around
Ill breathe em in until my head goes spinning round
Want to worship at the church
Let me worship at the church of women
Want to worship at the church of women
(repeat x3 and fade)
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sex & The Church
Though the idea of compassion
Is said to be
The union of christ
And his bride, the christian
Its all very puzzling
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
All the great mystic religions
Put strong emphasis, on
Redeame this spiritual qualities
Of sex of sex
Chrstianity
Has been pretty modern
About sex
Of sex of sex of sex of sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
I think there is a union
Between the flesh and the spirit
Its sex and the church
Sex and the church
All religions mother
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Put Your Hand In The Hand
(words & music by g. maclellan)
Put your hand in the hand of the man
Who stilled the water
Put your hand in the hand of the man
Who calmed the sea
Take a look at yourself
And you can look at others differently
Put your hand in the hand of the man
From galilee
My momma taught me how to pray
Before I reached the age of seven
When Im down on my knees
Thats when Im closest to heaven
Daddy lived his life, two kids and a wife
Well you do what you must do
But he showed me enough of what it takes
To get me through, oh yeh!
Put your hand in the hand of the man
Who stilled the water
Put your hand in the hand of the man
Who calmed the sea
Take a look at yourself
And you can look at others differently
Put your hand in the hand of the man
From galilee
Oh yeh!
Put your hand in the hand of the man
Who stilled the water
Put your hand in the hand of the man
Who calmed the sea
Take a look at yourself
And you can look at others differently
Put your hand in the hand of the man
From galilee
Oh yeh!
Put your hand in the hand of the man
Who stilled the water
Put your hand in the hand of the man
Who calmed the sea
Take a look at yourself
And you can look at others differently
Put your hand in the hand of the man
From galilee
Oh yeh!
Put your hand in the hand of the man from galilee
Put your hand in the hand of the man from galilee, oh yeh!
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ebony Life
A frightening stillness will mark that day
And the shadow of streetlights and fire-alarms will exhaust the light
All things, the quietest and the loudest, will be silent
The suckling brats will die
The tugboats the locomotives the wind will glide by in silence
We will hear the great voice which coming from far away will pass over the city
We will wait a long time for it
Then at the rich man's time of day
When the dust the stones the missing tears
form the sun's robe on the huge deserted squares
We shall finally hear the voice.
It will growl at doors for a long while
It will pass over the town tearing up flags and breaking windowpanes.
We will hear it
What silence before it, but still greater the silence
it will not disturb but will hold guilty will brand and denounce
Day of sorrows and joys
The day the day to come when the voice will pass over the city
A ghostly seagull told me she loved me as much as I loved her
That this great terrible silence was my love
That the wind carrying the voice was the great revolt of the world
And that the voice would look kindly on me.
poem by Robert Desnos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How I Wish You Do Not Understand My Language
speaking in tongues the drops of light fall on the pavement
of the church, worse, there were heads banging against other heads
and beards. Birds fly away, upon a thud of a pod,
pudding, leaves heaping, trees shedding off heaps of leaves,
and church bells ringing, i drag my feet drugged against the
ragged tags of the rugged rags, Sham, It is still painful.
How i wish you do not understand my language, Yet you
are speaking it, like i am the sham shaman of the shah of tehran.
it is your wedding day. I am here.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lucinda Matlock
I went to the dances at Chandlerville,
And played snap-out at Winchester.
One time we changed partners,
Driving home in the midnight of middle June,
And then I found Davis.
We were married and lived together for seventy years,
Enjoying, working, raising the twelve children,
Eight of whom we lost
Ere I had reached the age of sixty.
I spun, I wove, I kept the house, I nursed the sick,
I made the garden, and for holiday
Rambled over the fields where sang the larks,
And by Spoon River gathering many a shell,
And many a flower and medicinal weed--
Shouting to the wooded hills, singing to the green valleys.
At ninety-six I had lived enough, that is all,
And passed to a sweet repose.
What is this I hear of sorrow and weariness,
Anger, discontent and drooping hopes?
Degenerate sons and daughters,
Life is too strong for you--
It takes life to love Life.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Holy City
Holy City
We arrived here yesterday
Holy city
We sat foot here yesterday
Holy city
We felt in love with you already
Holy city
Is the city where our God was born
Holy city
Here we saw where God died in the cross with Pontius pilate
And risen from his death
Holy City
Today we end up in the Sea of Galilee
It is so good to breathe the fresh air from the Sea of Galilee
This sea is amazing
Holy city
This is a journey we will never forget in our lives
Holy city
Has been an interesting point in our lives
Holy city
Was a discovery of our roots
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Is It Well?
Saw you the youth, with the face like the morning,
Refilling the glass, that foamed white as the sea?
Heard you the words that fell down like a warning,
'Lift not the glass: it holds sorrow for thee'?
He heeds not nor listens:
The red liquor glistens,
And he sees not the fangs of the serpent beneath.
And the fiends are elated,
And the voice waileth 'Fated,'
As he drains out the glass: the dumb agent of death.
High had he set his mark. Fame, wealth, and glory,
All should be his ere the noon-tide of life.
A name that should live in the annals of story,
His was a heart that could battle with strife.
'Here's to youthful endeavor!'
He cries. 'Ah! for ever
Shall the ruddy glass cheer me on life's rugged way.
There is strength for all trouble
In each airy bubble.
Who dares prate of danger and sorrow, I pray?'
Where is the youth with the face like the morning?
Where are the hopes that glowed bright as the noon!
He who had heard and obeyed not the warning,
Oh! has he reaped the dire harvest so soon?
He quaffed, all unheeding
The small voice's pleading,
And he lieth to-night in a dark prison cell.
This is his glory,
The name carved in story.
This has the red glass done. Say, is it well?
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Off to Church
Go with a desire to hear God's word
to lift up your voice and praise the Lord.
To join the congregation and to sing
as to the Lord your worship you bring.
'Come to me' you hear the Lord God say
as there to the church you make your way
and into God's presence you then go
with tears of joy let your praises flow.
Sweet communion with Jesus takes place
as there you meet with Him face to face.
For there is no greater love than this:
Knowing He is yours and you are His.
'It is with great desire, ' Jesus said
To meet with you and to break this bread.
Communing there in fellowship sweet
with the wine to drink and bread to eat.
You Say The Battle Is Over
This song appears on two albums, and was first released on the autograph album, and has also been released on the wildlife concert album as a live track.
And you say that the battle is over
And you say that the war is all done
Go tell it to those
With the wind in their nose
Who run from the sound of the gun
And write it on the sides
Of the great whaling ships
Or on ice floes where conscience is tossed
With the wind in their eyes
It is they who must die
And it's we who must measure the loss
And you say that the battle is over
And finally the world is at peace
You mean no one is dying
And mothers don't weep
Or it's not in the papers at least
There are those who would deal
In the darkness of life
There are those who would tear down the sun
And most men are ruthless
But some will still weep
When the gifts we were given are gone
Now the blame cannot fall
On the heads of a few
It's become such a part of the race
It's eternally tragic
That that which is magic
Be killed at the end of the glorious chase
From young seals to great whales
From waters to wood
They will fall just like weeds in the wind
With fur coats and perfumes
And trophies on walls
What a hell of a race to call men
And you say that the battle is over
And you say that the war is all done
Go tell it to those
With the wind in their nose
Who run from the sound of the gun
And write it on the sides
Of the great whaling ships
Or on ice floes where conscience is tossed
With the wind in their eyes
It is they who must die
And it's we who must measure the loss
With the wind in their eyes
It is they who must die
And it's we who must measure the cost
Words and music by david mallett
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Youth Culture Killed My Dog
Youth culture (youth culture)
Youth culture (youth culture)
Youth culture (youth culture)
Youth culture (youth culture)
Youth culture killed my dog
And i don't think it's fair (i don't think it's fair)
And his suicide can be justified
By the tastemakers, how they cried and cried and so
Bacharach and david used to write his favorite songs
Never, never, never would he worry, he'd just run and fetch the ball
But the night lights and my dog's life aren't exactly one and the same
Youth culture killed my dog
And i don't think it's fair (i don't think it's fair)
And the judgement made in the city of hate
Just broke his spirit so
Bacharach and david used to write his favorite songs
Never, never, never would he worry, he'd just run and fetch the ball
But the hiphop and the white funk just blew away my puppy's mind
I don't understand what you did to my dog
And i don't understand what you did to my dog
I don't understand what you did to my dog
I don't understand what you did to my dog
Youth culture killed my dog (youth culture killed my dog)
And i don't think it's fair (i don't think it's fair)
And his suicide can be justified
By the tastemakers, how they cried and cried and so
Youth culture (youth culture)
Youth culture (youth culture)
Broke his spirit so (broke his spirit so)
Broke his spirit so
Youth culture (youth culture)
(youth culture)
Youth culture (youth culture)
(youth culture)
Broke his spirit so (broke his spirit so)
Broke his spirit so
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I'm Killed
When I’m killed, don’t think of me
Buried there in Cambrin Wood,
Nor as in Zion think of me
With the Intolerable Good.
And there’s one thing that I know well,
I’m damned if I’ll be damned to Hell!
So when I’m killed, don’t wait for me,
Walking the dim corridor;
In Heaven or Hell, don’t wait for me,
Or you must wait for evermore.
You’ll find me buried, living-dead
In these verses that you’ve read.
So when I’m killed, don’t mourn for me,
Shot, poor lad, so bold and young,
Killed and gone — don’t mourn for me.
On your lips my life is hung:
O friends and lovers, you can save
Your playfellow from the grave.
poem by Robert Graves
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jacke-On-Both-Sides
I hold as fayth
What Rome's Church sayth
Where the King's head,
That flock's misled
Where th' Altar's drest
That People's blest
Who shuns the Masse
Hee's but an Asse
Who Charity preach
They Heav'n soone reach
On Fayth t'rely,
'Tis heresy
What England's Church allows
My Conscience disavowes;
That Church can have no seame;
That holdes the Pope supreme;
There's service scarce divine;
With table, bread and wine;
Hee's Catholique and wise;
Who the Communion flyes;
That Church with schismes fraught;
Where only fayth is taught;
Noe matter for good workes,
Makes Christians worse than Turkes.
poem by William Strode
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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