Henry C. Calhoun
I reached the highest place in Spoon River,
But through what bitterness of spirit!
The face of my father, sitting speechless,
Child-like, watching his canaries,
And looking at the court-house window
Of the county judge's room,
And his admonitions to me to seek
My own in life, and punish Spoon River
To avenge the wrong the people did him,
Filled me with furious energy
To seek for wealth and seek for power.
But what did he do but send me along
The path that leads to the grove of the Furies?
I followed the path and I tell you this:
On the way to the grove you'll pass the Fates,
Shadow-eyed, bent over their weaving.
Stop for a moment, and if you see
The thread of revenge leap out of the shuttle,
Then quickly snatch from Atropos
The shears and cut it, lest your sons,
And the children of them and their children
Wear the envenomed robe.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Granville Calhoun
I wanted to be County Judge
One more term, so as to round out a service
Of thirty years.
But my friends left me and joined my enemies,
And they elected a new man.
Then a spirit of revenge seized me,
And I infected my four sons with it,
And I brooded upon retaliation,
Until the great physician, Nature,
Smote me through with paralysis
To give my soul and body a rest.
Did my sons get power and money?
Did they serve the people or yoke them,
To till and harvest fields of self?
For how could they ever forget
My face at my bed-room window,
Sitting helpless amid my golden cages
Of singing canaries,
Looking at the old court-house?
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mrs. Williams
I was the milliner
Talked about, lied about,
Mother of Dora,
Whose strange disappearance
Was charged to her rearing.
My eye quick to beauty
Saw much beside ribbons
And buckles and feathers
And leghorns and felts,
To set off sweet faces,
And dark hair and gold.
One thing I will tell you
And one I will ask:
The stealers of husbands
Wear powder and trinkets,
And fashionable hats.
Wives, wear them yourselves.
Hats may make divorces --
They also prevent them.
Well now, let me ask you:
If all of the children, born here in Spoon River
Had been reared by the County, somewhere on a farm;
And the fathers and mothers had been given their freedom
To live and enjoy, change mates if they wished,
Do you think that Spoon River
Had been any the worse?
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Have Been Saved
I have been saved; I have been saved, truly by a Holy Righteous God,
Given a new heart and a new life, to leave the path I once had trod.
For I was born with a heart of flesh that was truly tainted with sin,
But The Lord in His Mercy reached down and changed me from within.
When The Gracious Holy Lord chose to touch and circumcise my heart,
He also chose to leave me in the world but He also set my life apart.
Now I no longer have my old desire to continue my life of wicked sin,
For as a new creature found in Christ I began a new life sure in Him.
The Lord also set me upon a new path and gave me a brand new start,
And the only way to please my Lord is to seek Him with all my heart.
The Word of God tells me to seek first His Kingdom and Righteousness,
This path leads me to gain His Wisdom, so for Him I can be a witness.
If we truly believe in Christ a definite change will be in our heart,
As this is a sign to unbelievers and a witness of a brand new start.
This change that occurs is manifested by The Spirit we can not see,
It's The Holy Spirit Who sealed me with a New Life that set me free.
For the change to my life took place the very moment of my Salvation,
And this new work was fully accomplished by The Lord of all Creation.
Although it only took a brief moment to accept The Lord's Salvation,
A Sanctified Life to be used by The Lord is my lifelong obligation.
(Copyright © 06/2002)
Archibald Higbie
I loathed you, Spoon River. I tried to rise above you,
I was ashamed of you. I despised you
As the place of my nativity.
And there in Rome, among the artists,
Speaking Italian, speaking French,
I seemed to myself at times to be free
Of every trace of my origin.
I seemed to be reaching the heights of art
And to breathe the air that the masters breathed,
And to see the world with their eyes.
But still they'd pass my work and say:
"What are you driving at, my friend?
Sometimes the face looks like Apollo's
At others it has a trace of Lincoln's."
There was no culture, you know, in Spoon River,
And I burned with shame and held my peace.
And what could I do, all covered over
And weighted down with western soil,
Except aspire, and pray for another
Birth in the world, with all of Spoon River
Rooted out of my soul?
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Please Do Not Ask Me How A River Feels
children bathe in the river.
we were children once, we bathe in the river
we float and go with the flow of the river
we lied to mother we were afraid of father
but we were children once and we bathed in the river
we all know how a river felt
throughout our bodies
time runs like a river how many times shall i tell you that
we had mud all over
we were once children we grow to be men
strong arms and swift feet
we caught fish
we claim to be men with responsibilities
we are still children at heart we still feel the rivers running on our skins
i know, i still know how a river feels
time does not know how to kill the feel of rivers
do not ask me then if i have forgotten the river
we are men with responsibilities we have gone away
far from what we are
the river still flows and it will never stop
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Children
And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, 'Speak to us of Children.'
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.
poem by Khalil Gibran
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Children Chapter IV
And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, 'Speak to us of Children.'
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.
poem by Khalil Gibran
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Beatitutes
Blessed is the humble heart
For God resists the proud
From lowly men he'll not depart
While others seek the crowd
Blessed are those who truly care
And those who seek His face
He'll keep them close, they'll not despair
He'll fill them with His grace
Blessed are those who are meek
And those who are truly mild
It is God alone they always seek
They come to Him as a child
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst
For God and all of His ways
And blessed are those who put God first
And seek HIm all off their days
Blessed are those with hearts that weep
And demand no payment of debt
For what they have recieved they do not keep
It is mercy that they collect
Blessed is the heart that is undefiled
And whose eyes have seen the King
For His presence shall flow like the river wild
They'll lift their voices to Him and sing
Blessed are those who reconcile
They are the sons of our Father above
They will strive to go the extra mile
They are filled with His heavenly love
Blessed is the saint who suffers
And forgives even seventy times seven
For Christ's sake he thinks of others
For his is the kingdom of heaven
Rejoice and be exceedingly glad
When they accuse you off all kinds of sin
Do not let those lies make you sad
Just rejoice that Christ dwells within
poem by Frank McEleny
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Children Are Not Possessions
Your children are not your children;
They are the sons and daughters life
longing for itself
They come through you but not from you,
Though they are with you they're not possessions
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls live in the house of tomorrow,
Which you cannot visit, even in your dreams
You may strive to to be like them,
But seek not to make them like you
For life goes backward and lingers not with yesterday
You are the bows from which your children,
As living arrows are cast forth
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the Infinite,
And God Himself fills you with His Might that His
Arrows may go swift and far
Kahlil Gibran
(Interpretation by ROTMS)
Read more writings by ROTMS at http: //rotms.blogspot.com
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Your Children
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you.
And though they are with you, they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
Which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite.
And He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hands be for happiness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
So He loves the bow that is stable.
poem by Khalil Gibran
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
River of sorrow
Rivers are like the life we share,
Sometimes we go fast,
Sometimes we go slow,
My river is slow and filled with sorrow,
It seems endless,
Never turns and always follows the same path,
Far from anyone or any place,
Alone my river stands and alone it shall stay,
The sorrowful river with a path so untold,
Will my river of sorrow ever cross paths with one other,
poem by Samantha Guinen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A life is
Seek the radiance of God
To share tenderness of love,
Seek the radiance of love
To share feelings of fondness,
Seek the radiance of faith
To share compassion of peace,
Seek the radiance of Peace
To share the ultimate of passion
Seek the glowing path of passion
To discover a source for salvation;
Once you tread the ‘path of trust’
You are bound to experience
The real worth of what, "A Life Is".
poem by Dr. Ashok T Chakravarthy (November 2016)
Submitted by Dr. Ashok Chakravarthy
Vote! | Copy!
Do You Really Want to Know Me?
if you know what a river is
perhaps you will know a man
i am a man and you will say to the river
i have known a man and i have known a river
there is no way that i will never you in full
you shall brag to the clouds in your mind
they drift
there is no permanence
permanence is an illusion
a river
a cloud
water
air
and this is where we must start
educating air
if you step upon my heart and tell me
i have know everything about you and you must not change and that is what you are
you are wrong
for i am a river that encircles a mountain
but i know a path but the paths do not know me
and so i keep on moving
changing paths and what path was it that you have seen yesterday
is no longer the path now
you must accept you have never known a river
because a river is man
and man is not forever man
he is a river that always escapes the hold of your mind
that frame that has walls
without even the possibility of another opening for stars....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tapestry Of Emotion
The path that all life treads,
are a tapestry’s linen threads,
and the eye of the needle,
are the hearts of all the people,
woven in and out of each other,
so we are all sisters and brothers,
in the weave of life’s pattern,
from the moment of the rising sun,
to the time of the twinkling stars,
we’re imprisoned in life’s aging bars.
If you could what thread would you use?
Yes, what path would you choose?
One of passion, heat and glory,
or one of pristine and noble sobriety,
so stop, look and listen,
to life’s pneumatic system,
confusing you with its instructions,
whilst you seek its seduction,
for life is all about emotion,
entangled in the world’s commotion,
for life, love, fear, want and need,
all keep driving us to succeed.
poem by Dale Mullock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Teach The Gifted Children
Teach the gifted children
Teach them to have mercy
Teach them about sunsets
Teach them about moonrise
Teach them about anger
The sin that comes with dawning
Teach them about flowers
And the beauty of forgetfulness
Then take me to the river (take me to the river)
And put me in the water (and put me in the water)
Bless them and forgive them (take me to the river)
Father cause they just dont know (take me to the river)
All the gifted children
Teach the gifted children
The way of men and animals
Teach them about cities
The history of the mysteries
Their vice and their virtues
About branches that blow in the wind
On the wages of their sins
Teach them of forgiveness
Teach them about mercy
Teach them about music
And the cool and cleansing waters
What do they say, take me to the river (take me to the river)
Take me to the river (take me to the river)
Put me in the water (take me to the river)
And teach the gifted children (take me to the river)
All the gifted children (take me to the river)
(take me to the river)
(take me to the river)
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Knowing Not what’s Ahead
I don’t know what lies ahead, so I look to my Savior instead,
The One Who bore a cross for me, to die a death at Calvary,
He, Who did that for me friend, knows how my path will end,
And so I’ll fix my eyes on Him, as He gives me peace within.
On every path that we trod, we must trust our Lord and God,
For on the path He has us go, our Lord’s desires shall show,
Where that path will end for us, as we follow our Lord Jesus.
And what the outcome will be, within the plan we cannot see.
The Plan of God we must embrace, while living out our days,
As children formed of but dust, an Eternal God we can trust,
For our Lord makes no mistake, on any path He has us take,
As all things work out for good, in His ways not understood.
Whether my path is bright or dim, I must always trust in Him,
He, Who knitted me in the womb, has set up, for me a room,
In His Father’s Home above, where Christ leads by His Love,
Love, He guides me in each day, even upon the darkest way.
Even if I choose my path in life, my way’s directed by Christ,
And upon every path taken, by my Lord I am never forsaken,
Who continues daily leading me, from this earth into Eternity,
Where all things will fall in place, when I see my Savior’s face.
(07/2011)
Seek Beauty
how long
and how lonely
are the steeps of your lies
and yet
how painfully liberating is the path that your truth requires?
so seek
seek beauty
in laughter and in tears
seek love
and fantastic colours just may highlight the dust in your eyes
seek beauty
coz in the end
when the lamp oil
burnt the flicker once and for all
we fade
we perish in that final hour
savouring the promise of glorious dawn
so seek
seek beauty in the ugly and in the vain
seek love
and fantastic colours just may highlight
the dust in your eyes
seek beauty
and take joy
in your daily struggle
let go repulsion as it clings to the shock
discovery
entering illumination
the transformation of matter into void
so seek
seek beauty
in corruption and in the pure
seek love
and fantastic colours just may highlight the dust in your eyes
seek beauty
seek beauty!
poem by Andrew JansBrown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Born Without A Silver Spoon
I was born without a silver spoon.
On a raining day in the month of june.
We lived in a face me and face you,
it was a crowded neighbourhood.
Born without a silver spoon.
To have a three square meal
is like wishing for the moon.
Many times we bed the night,
cold night without food.
Without a silver spoon.
My father struggled me through school.
Primary, secondary and university
education i made it through.
A silver spoon.
My wish which must come true.
For i dream of it everday.
Think about those moves i'll make.
Praying to God for steps to take.
Though i was born without
silver spoon.
Yet if heaven be true,
my family's pain will not be vain.
I was born without a silver spoon
shall be erased.
To my generations it shall be a tale.
And only a silver spoon shall remain.
poem by Enebeli Ifyprada
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Guidance To A Better Life
Many of us seek out
those older and wiser than ourselves
for the guidance to a better life.
We seek out the old and wiser
learning from the mistakes they made
so as we travel down the same path
we know which pitfalls to look out for
with guidance to a better life.
We can take less wrong turns
and journey forward in the knowledge
we will not make the mistakes they made.
We know life is never easy
so we seek out the guidance
from who have lived it longer than us,
those older and wiser than ourselves
for the guidance to a better life.
Then one day when we are as old as they,
we can pass on our knowledge to those young
who need guidance to a better life.
21 November 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Psalm 27 part 2
v.8,9,13,14
C. M.
Prayer and hope.
Soon as I heard my Father say,
"Ye children, seek my grace,"
My heart replied without delay,
"I'll seek my Father's face."
Let not thy face be hid from me,
Nor frown my soul away;
God of my life, I fly to thee
In a distressing day.
Should friends and kindred near and dear
Leave me to want or die,
My God would make my life his care,
And all my need supply.
My fainting flesh had died with grief
Had not my soul believed,
To see thy grace provide relief;
Nor was my hope deceived.
Wait on the Lord, ye trembling saints,
And keep your courage up;
He'll raise your spirit when it faints,
And far exceed your hope.
poem by Isaac Watts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!