Two Sonnets In Memory
(Nicola Sacco -- Bartolomeo Vanzetti)
Executed August 23, 1927
I
As men have loved their lovers in times past
And sung their wit, their virtue and their grace,
So have we loved sweet Justice to the last,
That now lies here in an unseemly place.
The child will quit the cradle and grow wise
And stare on beauty till his senses drown;
Yet shall be seen no more by mortal eyes
Such beauty as here walked and here went down.
Like birds that hear the winter crying plain
Her courtiers leave to seek the clement south;
Many have praised her, we alone remain
To break a fist against the lying mouth
Of any man who says this was not so:
Though she be dead now, as indeed we know.
II
Where can the heart be hidden in the ground
And be at peace, and be at peace forever,
Under the world, untroubled by the sound
Of mortal tears, that cease from pouring never?
Well for the heart, by stern compassion harried,
If death be deeper than the churchmen say, --
Gone from this world indeed what's graveward carried,
And laid to rest indeed what's laid away.
Anguish enough while yet the indignant breather
Have blood to spurt upon the oppressor's hand;
Who would eternal be, and hang in ether
A stuffless ghost above his struggling land,
Retching in vain to render up the groan
That is not there, being aching dust's alone?
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Love, Grief, Death, Peace and Life Make War
Love, grief, death, peace, and life make war.
Within the grasps of victory, here lies grief.
Striving to keep a soul alive, thriving for life
whispers of sanity fade from the sight of death.
An outstretched limb pleading for a touch of peace
as a memory of happiness fills the heart with love.
Controlling senses fester upon a long lost love,
breathing in deep, it’s the smell of a war.
Muffled cries creep into your soul, pleading for peace.
You lick your blood stained lips, tasting the bitter grief.
piercing voices thunder upon the ground, accepting death
as a memory of loneliness fills their heart with an absence of life.
Tears of blood come forth into a dimension of twisted life.
The air, heavy and hot, hover over you ridding the land of any former love.
A chorus of saints and sinners sing to you, singing the song of death,
”O come ye child, come into my arms and rid yourself of this war.
Gather your mind and venture to the morrow, leaving behind this haunting grief,
for it is not your fault that this world does not know peace.”
You close your eyes, feeling the sensation of eternal peace.
You can not move any aching limb, within an inch of life
you follow the scent of reigning mud, caking itself to the world’s own grief.
Wandering past the forgotten lives to seek the one true love
that carries upon it’s shoulders, a burden of war.
This land can no longer hold itself with peace as all the peace has turned to death.
Forging itself upon your spirit, the lies no longer live, now it is only death
that caresses your body like a mother so tender, illuminating the one and only peace.
Taunting you to go and be afraid no more, taunting and taunting, this is war.
With one last plea, you beg and cry for the voices to take your life
as you know that the searching prisms of hope will find your love
and they will abolish the need of any misery and any grief.
Once more do the saints and sinners sing of your grief
only this time, there is no mourning of war and death.
They’ve come to pour into your heart, a sound so divine. It is love.
”Dear child, dear child, no more shall you weep, we are here, we’re your peace.
Come with us to a land so pure, where love is eternal and death is not near. We will give you life.
With a trust so deep, take our hands and no more, no more, shall this be your burden of war.”
In times of sorrow and fear, lost is the value of love and peace.
All is forgotten while caged by grief and watching the slaughter of life.
You watch your fallen brothers, reaching for help, you hear the despair in all their voices.
You’re the saint and sinner, giving them hope.
You cease your thoughts, you must fight on.
You aim your gun, praying for death. This is war.
poem by Mason Letoto
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Peace unto you
We enter this new era on
the wings of the new era
To usher in peace into the heart
of blessed humanity
Peace unto you my brother
Peace unto you my father
Peace unto you my sister
Peace unto you my mother
We open the new chapter
Into the history of mankind
To forget the errors of the past
We meet here determined not
to live until we have corrected
The mistakes of the past
Peace unto you
Who was my oppressor in the past
Peace unto you who was
My torturer yesterday
Peace unto you who was
A sellout to their just cause
Peace unto you who was
The one to pull the trigger
That mowed them down
Peace unto the world
We come together to live
Where there is reconciliation
with justice
We meet to make the world a just
and fair world where all God's
Children are treated with fairness
in the eyes of the law
poem by Ngaka Motaung
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Psalm 92 part 1
A Psalm for the Lord's day.
Sweet is the work, my God, my King,
To praise thy name, give thanks and sing,
To show thy love by morning light,
And talk of all thy truth at night.
Sweet is the day of sacred rest,
No mortal cares shall seize my breast;
O may my heart in tune be found,
Like David's harp of solemn sound!
My heart shall triumph in my Lord,
And bless his works, and bless his word;
Thy works of grace, how bright they shine!
How deep thy counsels! how divine!
Fools never raise their thoughts so high;
Like brutes they live, like brutes they die;
Like grass they flourish, till thy breath
Blast them in everlasting death.
But I shall share a glorious part
When grace hath well refined my heart;
And fresh supplies of joy are shed,
Like holy oil, to cheer my head.
Sin (my worst enemy before)
Shall vex my eyes and ears no more;
My inward foes shall all be slain,
Nor Satan break my peace again.
Then shall I see, and hear, and know
All I desired or wished below;
And every power find sweet employ
In that eternal world of joy.
poem by Isaac Watts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Laid Down God!
i laid down God,
and found the stranger
at my door....
hungry stare, dirty clothes,
nowhere to go...
i let him in!
i laid down God,
and found the orphaned child,
crying in the darkness,
the darkness that swallows souls.
i took the child in my arms,
and whispered, 'you are home'...
i laid down God,
traded my guns for hammer and nails...
began building houses
for the lost and dispossessed...
i laid down God,
and quit thinking about me...
found peace in involvement,
with no need to possess...
i laid down God,
and God found me!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
At A Funeral
I loved her too, this woman who is dead.
Look in my face. I have a right to go
And see the place where you have made her bed
Among the snow.
I loved her too whom you are burying.
I have a right to stand beside her bier,
And to my handful of the dust I fling,
That she may hear.
I loved her; and it was not for the eyes
Which you have shut, nor for her yellow hair,
Nor for the face which in your bosom lies.
Let it lie there!
Nor for the wild--birds' music of her voice,
Which we shall hear in dreams till we too sleep;
Nor for the rest, which made the world rejoice,
The angels weep.
It was not for the payment of sweet love,
Though love is often straitened for a kiss,
Nor for the hope of other joys above,
But only this,
That she had laid her hand upon my heart
Once in the summer time when we were young,
And that her finger--tips had left a smart,
And that my tongue
Had spoken words which might not be unspoken
Lest they should make a by--word of love's truth,
And I had sworn that love should be the token
Of my youth.
And so I gave her all, and long ago
The treasure of my youth was put in pawn;
And she was little richer that I know
When that was gone.
But I have lived a beggar since that day
And hide my face it may be from men's eyes;
For often I have seen them shrink away,
As in surprise
That such a loathsome cripple should be found
To walk abroad in daylight with the rest,
And scarce a rag to cover up the wound
Upon his breast.
Yet no man stopped to ask how this might be,
Or I had scared them, and let loose my tongue,
How I had bought myself this misery
When I was young.
Yet I have loved her. This must be my pay,
The pension I have earned me with these tears;
The right to kneel beside her grave to--day,
Despite these years,
With all her kisses burning on my cheek,
As when I left her and our love was dead,
And our lips trembled though they did not speak,
The night I fled;
The right to bid you stand aside, nor be
A witness of our meeting. Did you love
In joy as I have loved in misery?
You did not prove
Your love was stronger than the strength of death,
Or she had never died upon your hand.
I would have fed her breathing with my breath;
I would have fanned
A living wind of Heaven to her lips;
I would have stolen life from Paradise.
And she is dead, and you have seen eclipse
Within those eyes.
If I could know that you had loved her well;
If I could hold it for a certainty
That you had sold your life as I did sell;
If I could see
The blackness of your soul, and with my tongue
Taste the full bitterness of tears unshed;
If I should find your very heart was wrung
And maimed and dead;
If I should feel your hand's grasp crumble mine,
And hug the pain when I should grasp in turn;
If I could dip my fingers in the brine
Of eyes that burn;
If I could hear your voice call back the dead
With such a mighty cry of agony
That she should turn and listen in the bed
Where she doth lie,
And all the heavens should together roll,
Thinking they heard the angel's trumpet tone,
I could forget it that you bought a soul
Which was my own;
I could forget that she forgot her vows,
That aught was bartered for the wealth of love;
I could untell the story of my woes,
Till God above
Should hold her guiltless and condone the wrong
Done to His justice; I could take your hand
And call you brother, as we went along
To take our stand
Before His judgment--seat with her again
Where we are hurrying,--for we could not keep
Our place unchallenged in the ranks of men
Who do not weep.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Song. To -- [Harriet]
Stern, stern is the voice of fate's fearful command,
When accents of horror it breathes in our ear,
Or compels us for aye bid adieu to the land,
Where exists that loved friend to our bosom so dear,
'Tis sterner than death o’er the shuddering wretch bending,
And in skeleton grasp his fell sceptre extending,
Like the heart-stricken deer to that loved covert wending,
Which never again to his eyes may appear--
And ah! he may envy the heart-stricken quarry,
Who bids to the friend of affection farewell,
He may envy the bosom so bleeding and gory,
He may envy the sound of the drear passing knell,
Not so deep is his grief on his death couch reposing,
When on the last vision his dim eyes are closing!
As the outcast whose love-raptured senses are losing,
The last tones of thy voice on the wild breeze that swell!
Those tones were so soft, and so sad, that ah! never,
Can the sound cease to vibrate on Memory’s ear,
In the stern wreck of Nature for ever and ever,
The remembrance must live of a friend so sincere.
AUGUST, 1810.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
By Night The muses told me.
By night the muses snatched me away, in to their
loveliest
Abode where the gods grow fond of. But poor I am in word to describe
The heavenly refinement of this humble paradise.
Laying me helplessly on this sour grass and looking into the early skies as a lover
On the tour of painful love and yet whispering in my ears as my ears quiver for answers
My dear poet the fairest of them all, whose heart is as loveliest as a thousand bouquets of roses laid by the lover's bed.
Grow within your thought the learning of love and let the world be indeed a beautiful place for you.
Though I do not challenge your words great muses, whose radiate skin bring light in darkness, whose word flow from your mouth as you were present when the world came to being, my great and wonderful muses, whose song feels the heart of the faint lover and bring to tame the proudest heart of the lion on a mid day hunt.
Your beauty I as a mortal i dare not compare any beauty with.
How should I love, how should I give my heart and not get pain in return,
You trained my heart and though I am weak, spirit me away in to your humble blossom
And let me rest my head on your golden lap.
For my lips are so moisten with words from my heart, I am not in control of my self.
If I, a lover of a thousand women, how then should I, a god like me
In mortal flesh prevent my pleasures for over taking me.
Hence my muse answered,
my dear poet and god, who I bestow my graces upon, who
Are the hands I write my songs and poem with, do no despair, write what ever I tell you through your heart and understand my plight, but if still you do not comprehend go and listen to my dear god Ovid, it was him Venus thought the art of love
But oh my dear lord and love muses, your words grace my heart, but my mind is not at peace
Ovid my great and wonderful love teacher, who none compares not even Shakespeare with his renown wits and words' sit with open eyes and heart applaud when he delivers the speech of love. But still I am a lover of thousand women.
My dearest, whom I endowed with the riches of words, hear me, your heart though full of wonder love, it is with it I deliver the power of love through, learn to live with it my young poet.
Tell the loveliest women how you feel and if she does not comprehend, craft them into words on paper, go my young poet and tell the ladies of the world through your words how elegant they seem in there natural beauty, how beauty grows and fade. Tell them to grace there appearance with inner beauty for the goddess and muses shall be with you.
You are my handy work, the man of a thousand lover, forgive cupid for his jealous looks my dear poet live and enjoy your fruitful days as young, soon old age comes fleeting in a chariot.
poem by Samuel Donkor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Here Lies the Heart
Mark where lies the heart that loved you
In gravestone covered tomb of pain
Where night's eternal slumber will undo
The past affections washed in rain.
Silenced now from beats of passion
Deserted loneliness made still
Alone in hidden devastation
The heart that loved against its will.
Where now the vows that it had held?
Hopes that nurtured it in life?
Promises were dreams beheld
That killed its beat as with a knife.
Gone are the tears that now decayed
In mournful sighing deathly laid
Gone purpose, reason, intents prayed
The heart that loved you dearly paid.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
America
'Peace, peace, O peace!' sweet peace, descend,
The cloud of war asunder rend;
Thy gentle reign alone restores
Rest to Columbia's ravaged shores!
Peace, peace! Shall still your brother's blood
Cry from the ground-'the purple flood
Is swelling high, soon to o'erflow
In tides of ruin, shame, and woe?'
Peace, peace! We know your ends and aims,
Your wild, ambitious, monstrous claims;
The States shall reign, the globe a throne,
Your sceptre sway the world alone!
Peace, peace! Wild dreamers, what are ye?
A people now or yet to be?
Or but a rude conglomeration
Of every kindred, tongue, and nation?
Peace, peace! No more of boast or vaunt,
Of false pretence, or lying cant;
Is it, indeed, to free the 'niggers'
You lap white blood like thirsty tigers?
Peace, peace! and hold your braggart tongue,
Tall for your years, wild, reckless, young;
We've borne it long, but there's an end,
Beware, my boy, your speech amend!
Peace, peace! O pause, and take a breath;
Your horrid carnival of death
Is so exhausting; credit, gold,
Blood, name, and fame-all, all are sold!
Peace, peace! I've heard the lying mouth
Say all 'your sympathies go South,'
'Tis false! aversion, horror, scorn
Is due where slaves are bred and born!
Peace, peace! Let go the South for ever,
United States again? no-never!
The bond is loosed, the die is cast,
The Rubicon of Fate is passed!
poem by Janet Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
(V – 1990) War & Peace
War has stabbed the heart of peace
And peace lies bleeding now –
A peace which was healing slow
The wounds it had suffered hard,
A peace which was recovering
From the mind blowing blows
Of the decades past!
Now the precious blood of that peace is draining
And each dropp of dripping blood
Is singing the songs of savagery
To the frightened ears of civilizations!
Man mastered bombs but now bombs master man!
Man busy growing the world outside
How poor he forgot to grow his inside!
And now when he stands a helpless child
Before the giant of things he grew
Reason comes again and asks
Was this the progress you built through the years
And man has no answer
He just drops into wounds
Wounds inflicted by bullets of arrogance
Of selfishness, hatred, fear and greed!
Oh, these bombs that preach ‘might is right’
Oh, these merciless bloodthirsty bullets –
What answers are they? What justice makes they?
What battle is real than a battle for peace?
What victory, true, when won at the cost of peace? !
Peace was long destroyed on the minds of men
So no peace now remains outside!
Rising from narrow rooms of thought
Man armed with the mortal arms of passion
Smashes the skulls of his brethren
And when upon the fractured bones
And the boiled flesh, cries of anguish fall
And when the hands and limbs of innocents
Lie eaten and bitten by vultures of violence
Their hearts cracking into a fury of pain
And when thick clouds of smoke
Of the smoke of life, rises from the graveyards of war
A tear comes into the eyes of man and time asks:
Hasn’t History taught you anything still?
And man stands dumb!
With all his will and wisdom paralyzed
He searches for peace, for the solace of peace
But peace lies writhing there!
He knows he wants it dearly
The company of peace,
Wounded though he be!
But peace is dying there;
But peace is not dead!
His life lies in our hands
The wounds are many
But many more can be spared!
The wounds are sore
But they can be medicined still!
War is death
But war can be killed!
Winter Fades To Springtime
Winter Fades To Springtime
Written by: Wilfred Mellers, Sunday, October 25,2009 @ 11: 22 AM
Birds sing their songs but for others
Children pine away for their mothers
Fools fall in love and think it’s cool
Beside me sits an empty bar-stool
Such heartache and pain
I can't stand the rain
In anguish naked I stand for all to see
Yet no one can see me
Minstrel, jester, and the class clown
Tears fall like waterfalls till I drown
Weeping and wailing yet I make not a sound
Brown are my leafs on the ground found
O' dear God hear my plea
No one is there any more for me
Someone please rip my heart out I need it no more
Tear it out and throw it on the floor
These thoughts no longer I can ignore
No longer the gangster settling the score
My heart, my life, my soul, and all that I am feeling
Heart scorched needs plenty of healing
Looking forward to peace of mind
In this world no more can I find
These eyes of mine are now blind
This world has been so unkind
Take me away to another place and time
Where mountains no longer I climb
Wedding bells no longer chime
Winter fades to springtime
poem by Wilfred Mellers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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!
The Deceased Poets Of Nature
Such beautiful poems to Nature they did write
The poetry we love for to read and recite
May they rest in peace now where-ever they lay
The deceased poets of Nature their poems live today
They glorified Nature and her praises they sung
And though they may be long dead their poems remain young
the poets of the land and the poets of the sea
In their beautiful poetry their greatness we do see
Their poems and their songs I loved as a boy
And their poems and their songs I will always enjoy
The beauty of Nature they did celebrate
And beauty in their words they loved to create.
Great insights of Nature from them we did gain
The beauty of their words with us does remain
We loved them for their poems in decades long gone
The deceased poets of Nature their poems living on.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Six-sixty-six
In the midst of the war
He offered us peace
And he came like a lover
From out of the east
With the face of an angel and the heart of a beast
His intentions were six-sixty-six
He walked up to the temple
With gold in his hands
And he bought off the priests
And propositioned the land
And the world was his harlot
And laid in the sand
While the band played six-sixty-six
We served at his table
And slept on the floor
But he starved us and beat us
And nailed us to the door
Well, Im ready to die
I cant take any more
And Im sick of his lies and his tricks
He told us he loved us
But that was a lie
There was blood in his pockets
And death in his eyes
Well, my number is up
And Im willing to die
If the band will play six
If the band will play six-sixty
If the band will play six-sixty-six
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Rose
This immortal rose that lovers seek
will be glimpsed by all in youthful peak
for her presence will be on every corner.
And those who confuse that heady perfume
with a lust for love,
will only find winter in an unknown heart
for beauty was always a fragile thing.
We who have seen this gift from above
will always get burned by its light.
The poet and the painter
have perfumed our existence
with loves testimony to this.
The pain and tears fall on empty shield
for love will break your heart
but when we reach out to hold the rose
picked from these fields of hope,
a moment in life unfurls,
love will kiss your soul
and the world belongs to you.
Fleeting are the petals of time
the rose is a symbol to love.
For others it is the pain of life,
to find and lose this immortal gift
leaves a desert where life cannot breathe.
The laughter replaced by silence
the smile that is kept in darkness,
the kiss exiled to the memory.
Love is lost in the deepest pit
of your despair,
the thorns will bleed your soul red
but she can never die.
Love will always leave a spark
that will lead you to redemption
and only death can take this from you.
The rose was never yours to pick
but its creation yours to admire
for your being was made for this.
And as our mortal bodies die
the spirit will seek the rose once more
for in death its petals fall too
blessing the ground of your resting place.
The rose was always yours
and its beauty a source of life
the chains of doubt will always
break in its presence.
The rose is pure
as is your faith in mankind.
It can show you a deeper meaning
for you are the petals of life
she is the perfume of your existence
and it is you that made her life complete.
poem by Steven Cooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Voice of my Soul
I want to hear the silence
that brings peace on my mind,
I want to hear the songs
that play deeply in my soul
I want to walk on rainbow
and holds the hope of dreams
I want to hear the pouring water
that shades my tears away,
I want to hold the oceans
and feels I owned the world.
I want to stare the sunset
that brings for another day
I want to feel the morning sunrise
that shows the beauty of life
I want to ride on clouds
that lift my spirit free
I want to hear the wave from shore
that brings joy in my heart
I want to love and be loved,
I want to live for life....
poem by Cheryl Aldea
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Peace Instilled By God
We have peace from God’s Son, a peace that is second to none,
A peace that comes from above, that wraps our heart like a glove.
When sealed with the Spirit, as darkness abounds we don’t fear it,
Even through the darkest night, we are lead by The Savior’s Light.
All from what has been done, for all believers by God’s own Son,
As God’s wrath was spent on Him, Christ, who died for all our sin,
Placing on Him our punishment, when to Calvary, Christ was sent,
Making peace between God and us, when in Him, we put our trust.
So there is no condemnation, for all who accept God’s Salvation,
Instead He gives to us New Life, all through His Son Jesus Christ.
So now we have peace with God, while we are on this earthly sod,
A peace inside none can take, for a believer, God will not forsake.
And that peace shall grow inside, this, when in Christ we do abide,
As we Follow His Spirit from within, in a world so darkened by sin.
And as the world gets darker friend, our Lord is with us till the end,
Filling us with peace every day, as Christ’s Spirit leads all the way.
When the darker times do come, we know who, our peace is from,
And as the dark times increase, we have from Him a lasting peace,
Peace, provided to us by Grace, available in any time at any place,
And knowing who gave us the peace, we know it shall never cease.
(Copyright ©06/2008)
A Dacian's prayer [Rugăciunea unui dac]
When there was neither death, nor immortality,
Nor seed of light to give life and fertility,
Nor yesterday, today, tomorrow and for ever,
For one was everything and all were one together;
When earth and sky and air and all this world profound
Were things that until then had never been around,
Back then, was only You, and in my mind I wonder,
Who is the God we worship, who makes us hear the thunder?
He is the God that stood before all gods in dark
And from the boundless waters produced a little spark,
He gives the gods their souls, makes happy His creation
He is for all the people a fountain of salvation
Cheer up and praise the Lord! Forget about your strife,
He is the death of death and is the life of life!
And He gave me the eyes to see the shining light
And mercifully filled my heart with pure delight
In roaring winds I've heard His footsteps all the time
And in a sublime song I've felt His holy rhyme,
But beside all these things, I still have a request,
To let me find at last His sweet eternal rest!
To curse the man who wants to soothe my awful pain
To bless the one who always oppresses me in vain,
To listen any mouth that shouts at me with strife,
To strengthen any arm that wants to take my life
And let that guy to be the best and walk ahead
Who comes to steal the stone on which I lay my head!
Rejected by the people, I'll roam through all my years
Until I feel my eyes devoid of any tears,
For every man will be my bitter foe from birth,
That's why I cannot judge or measure my own worth;
The pain and the ordeal have chilled my heart severely,
That I can curse my mother, whom I have loved so dearly –
But when my hate will fade and love will take its place
I might forget my pain and leave this life with grace.
And if I die an outlaw who wanted to be free,
Let them throw out my body to rot under a tree
And offer, God, a crown with many precious stones
To him who'll bring the dogs to eat my heart and bones.
And give eternal life to those who slap my face,
Who throw at me with stones and sink me in disgrace!
And only then, my Father, I'll thank you on my knees,
Because You gave me power to go through life with ease
I shall not beg for mercy or bend my head and cry
To curses, spite and evil I want to turn Your eye,
To feel Your holy breath upon my mortal face,
To die and rest in peace and leave behind no trace!
poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
Vote! | Copy!
race In Retrospect
GRACE IN RETROSPECT
Beauty of raising sun at break of dawn
Forever can’t hold on after it is gone
Beauty of sun setting in to ocean in evening
At the night’s beginning is not forever holding
Beauty of blooming flowers in all different colors
Is only passing pictures before its time to wither
Only grace in retrospect
Beauty of changing seasons for nature’s good reasons
Is only temporary vision of life’s many illusions
Beauty of many events sweet and sad moments
Are only time’s sentiments of ascent and descent
Beauty of life’s birth on this mortal earth
Is faith of truth before time for death
Only grace in retrospect
poem by Mittur Ramprasad
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Grace In Retrospect
GRACE IN RETROSPECT
Beauty of raising sun at break of dawn
Forever can’t hold on after it is gone
Beauty of sun setting in to ocean in evening
At the night’s beginning is not forever holding
Beauty of blooming flowers in all different colors
Is only passing pictures before its time to wither
Only grace in retrospect
Beauty of changing seasons for nature’s good reasons
Is only temporary vision of life’s many illusions
Beauty of many events sweet and sad moments
Are only time’s sentiments of ascent and descent
Beauty of life’s birth on this mortal earth
Is faith of truth before time for death
Only grace in retrospect
poem by Mittur Ramprasad
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!