At Hawthorne's Grave
Can any famous marble whose broad shaft
Is lettered full with words of life and death,
Whose base and cap assert the sculptor's craft
In some device that reins the rapid breath;
Can any meet the eye with such a power
As just this fragrant word of simple place?
Had ever small, white stone so rich a dower?
Ever such sovereignty, so little space
As this? Yet best befitted in a word;
Naught would one add for majesty of Fame;
Yet standing here, the fancy in me stirred,
To hedge his rest with that which bears his name,
That nature might in his memorial share,
Divulging, with her blossoms, who lies there.
poem by Charlotte Fiske Bates from Risk, and Other Poems (1879)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
Word life
Word word life life
word life life word.
Life has its own word
Word has its own life.
word life life word
Life life word word.
Are you ready to catch
The word in your life?
Has your word the strength
And power the bear the life?
Through the word
Is your life become happy?
Word word life life
Coining of words through life
Is the successful art
That is to cultvate.
You are here
I am here
Words are around us
Go and trace
Go go and crash.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inspiration
O hoary sculptor, stay thy hand:
I fain would view the lettered stone.
What carvest thou?-perchance some grand
And solemn fancy all thine own.
For oft to know the fitting word
Some humble worker God permits.
'Jain Ann Meginnis,
Agid 3rd.
He givith His beluved fits.'
poem by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life Vs.death
life is power, life is love, life is hate, life is a un-predictable thing of living
on this life subtance that is joined of death. death is that five letter word that was joined to that four lettered word life death is an over powering subtance of life that one person will feel at least a few times in a life-time. life is a dramatic feature of the circle of life
poem by Natalia Stratton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Today... 'The Word
Word of love and the Word made flesh
Word incarnate forever blessed
Word of life and the Word of light
Word of power and Word of might.
Word that was spoken, Word of the Lord
Word of the Law and the Word of God
Word of peace and Word eternal
Word of truth and last Word of all.
Word of wisdom and the Word of healing
Word from heaven, a Word so appealing
Word fulfilling the Word of prophecy
Word of the Spirit and Word of destiny.
Word of exhortation and Word of grace
Word of encouragement and Word of faith
Word of promise and a Word of insight
Word from the beginning and Word of delight.
Word of knowledge and a Word of boldness
Word of peace and the Word of righteousness
Word of the covenant and Word of love
Word of the Father from heaven above.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box)
Words of Fire
Words of Fire,
Words of Power,
With the force of a steam train,
With the speed of a bullet,
You hit me.
You knocked me off my high horse,
Upon the ground I lay,
Unable to move,
Such is the power of your word,
You hit me.
When first I read your word,
Words of Fire,
Words of Power,
The threat of culpable damnation,
The gift of undeserved salvation.
You are the living Word,
The only word,
Who was,
Who is,
Who is to come.
Words of Fire,
Words of Power,
Words of Eternity,
Words of Fire,
That burn within my heart.
From my youth,
My hair now grey,
Those words of Fire,
Those words of Power,
My life maintained.
poem by Steven Reeve
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Word
Find the word, understand the word,
Depend on the word;
The word is heaven and space, the word the earth,
The word the universe.
The word is in our ears, the word is on our tongues,
The word the idol.
The word is the holy book, the word is harmony,
The word is music.
The word is magic, the word the Guru.
The word is the body, the word is the spirit, the word is being,
The word Not-being.
The word is man, the word is woman,
The Worshipped Great.
The word is the seen and unseen, the word is the existent
And the non-existent.
Know the word, says Kabir,
The word is All-powerful.
About A Stone Without A Door
you are telling me about a stone
who refuses to admit anyone simply
because it has no door, no room and no space
for someone like you,
you who does not even know what knowing someone
really means. you ask the stone for a space and it says no
and you tell the stone that it has a space
where the leaf and a dropp of water live
the stone says no, and you insist because of the state you are in
you are dying and you need a place
perhaps a burial space where you may finally lay yourself
to rest, but the stone still says no, telling you that it has
no feelings that for centuries it has always been its nature
stony, stony silence, stony stares, unfeeling, that in its
house of stone, there exists no word for sympathy
that it is simply living up to the demands of its true nature
its tradition, and you finally understand, yet somehow you
tell the stone about what it does not know
inside it there is this leaf with dew, there is dropp of water
coming from the rain, that until now it has not fully known,
that inside its stony silence, there is still this song
that it has a heart that it keeps denying.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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339
you are telling me about a stone
who refuses to admit anyone simply
because it has no door, no room and no space
for someone like you,
you who does not even know what knowing someone
really means. you ask the stone for a space and it says no
and you tell the stone that it has a space
where the leaf and a dropp of water live
the stone says no, and you insist because of the state you are in
you are dying and you need a place
perhaps a burial space where you may finally lay yourself
to rest, but the stone still says no, telling you that it has
no feelings that for centuries it has always been its nature
stony, stony silence, stony stares, unfeeling, that in its
house of stone, there exists no word for sympathy
that it is simply living up to the demands of its true nature
its tradition, and you finally understand, yet somehow you
tell the stone about what it does not know
inside it there is this leaf with dew, there is dropp of water
coming from the rain, that until now it has not fully known,
that inside its stony silence, there is still this song
that it has a heart that it keeps denying.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Speak
Theyve given me a mission
I dont really know the game yet
Im bent on submission
Religion is to blame
Im the new messiah
Death angel with a gun
Dangerous in my silence
Deadly to my cause
Speak to me the pain you feel
Speak the word
The word is all of us
Ive given my life to become what I am
To preach the new beginning
To make you understand
To reach some point of order
Utopia in mind, youve got to learn
To sacrifice, to leave whats now behind
Speak to me the pain you feel
Speak the word
The word is all of us
Speak the word
The word is all of us
Seven years of power
The corporation claw
The rich control the government, the media the law
To make some kind of difference
Then everyone must know
Eradicate the fascists, revolution will grow
The system we learn says were equal under law
But the streets are reality, the weak and poor will fall
Lets tip the power balance and tear down their crown
Educate the masses, well burn the white house down
Speak to me the pain you feel
Speak to me the pain you feel
Speak the word [revolution]
The word is all of us
Speak the word [revolution]
The word is all of us
Speak the word
The word is all of us
Speak the word
The word is all of us
Speak!!!
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rewi to Grey: The Old Maori Chief’s Last Message
We have lived till these times, brother,
We who lived in this;
We have not grown old together,
Soon our lives must close –
Rewi’s first! For I am dying
Ere I got where all is true
From my heart a wish is flying –
This is my great word to you:
Mine to you and those who love us –
Be they white or brown –
Let there be one stone above is
When they’ve laid us down;
Let us rest together, brother,
When our gods recall us two.
Grant my wish – I have no other:
This is my great word to you.
Let there be one stone above us,
Standing for a sign:
On one side your name be written
On the other mine.
In my heart your name is lying;
We shall meet where all is true –
From y heart this wish is flying
This is my great word to you.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Graves of the Confederate Dead
Sleep sweetly in your humble graves,
Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause;
Though yet no marble column craves
The pilgrim here to pause.
II
In seeds of laurel in the earth
The blossom of your fame is blown,
And somewhere, waiting for its birth,
The shaft is in the stone!
III
Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years
Which keep in trust your storied tombs,
Behold! your sisters bring their tears,
And these memorial blooms.
IV
Small tributes! but your shades will smile
More proudly on these wreaths to-day,
Than when some cannon-moulded pile
Shall overlook this bay.
V
Stoop, angels, hither from the skies!
There is no holier spot of ground
Than where defeated valor lies,
By mourning beauty crowned!
poem by Henry Timrod
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At Magnolia Cemetery
SLEEP sweetly in your humble graves,
Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause;
Though yet no marble column craves
The pilgrim here to pause.
In seeds of laurel in the earth
The blossom of your fame is blown,
And somewhere, waiting for its birth,
The shaft is in the stone!
Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years
Which keep in trust your storied tombs,
Behold! your sisters bring their tears,
And these memorial blooms.
Small tributes! but your shades will smile
More proudly on these wreaths to-day,
Than when some cannon-moulded pile
Shall overlook this bay.
Stoop, angels, hither from the skies!
There is no holier spot of ground
Than where defeated valor lies,
By mourning beauty crowned.
poem by Henry Timrod
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ode:Sung on the. Occasion Of decorating the graves of the Confederate dead
Sleep sweetly in your humble graves,
Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause;
Though yet no marble column craves
The pilgrim here to pause.
In seeds of laurels in the earth,
The blossom of your fame is blown,
And, somewhere, waiting for its birth,
The shaft is in the stone.
Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years
Which keep in trust your storied tombs,
Behold! your sisters bring their tears,
And these memorial blooms.
Small tributes, but your shades will smile
As proudly on these wreaths to-day,
As when some cannon-moulded pile
Shall overlook this Bay.
Stoop, angels, hither from the skies!
There is no holier spot of ground,
Than where defeated valor lies,
By mourning beauty crowned!
poem by Henry Timrod
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ode at Magnolia Cemetery
Sleep sweetly in your humble graves,
Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause;
Though yet no marble column craves
The pilgrim here to pause.
In seeds of laurel in the earth
The blossom of your fame is blown,
And somewhere, waiting for its birth,
The shaft is in the stone!
Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years,
Which keep in trust your storied tombs,
Behold! your sisters bring their tears,
And these memorial blooms.
Small tributes! but your shades will smile
More proudly on these wreaths to-day,
Than when some cannon-moulded pile
Shall overlook this bay.
Stoop, angels, thither from the skies!
There is no holier spot of ground
Than where defeated valor lies,
By mourning beauty crowned.
poem by Henry Timrod
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the empty studio
The diffused northern sunlight
of this studio at dawn
matches the silence and the stillness
like the speaking silence
of the retrochoir behind the altar
of a simple white Greek island church –
that has no ornament; simply walls
painted in a pale blue wash,
the space, the air itself, as radiant with heaven;
behind the iconostasis – gold and candle and eternal gaze -
where praise is prepared; thought surrendered;
humility the robe; the sacred word awaits
the moment when it’s spoken;
so this studio; and at its centre, calling,
stands an easel with a white canvas on it;
what waits in this empty studio
that’s so full of emptiness that calls?
what challenges? This canvas
waits, as being ever does; full, content,
needing nothing but itself…
the silence will accept our spoken word,
then return to stillness;
the canvas will not be so forgiving;
‘make a mark on me that will not diminish
my completeness…; so let our being
meet, before a mark is made…’
this holy place: only godself may mark
this canvas and yet not detract; from space,
draw space; or may with colour stain transparent
this white white radiance of eternity:
and in the place whence all arises,
Nothing and Everything smile together
in their secret play.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Djolan
Soft was the night, the eve how airy,
When through the big, fat dictionary
I wandered on in careless ease,
And read the a's, b's, c's and d's!
But stop! What is this form I see,
Beginning with a hump-backed d?
I pause! I gasp! I falter there!
It is the djolan, I declare!
It is the djolan, wond'rous word!
The Buceros plicatus bird!
Ne'er, ne'er before had I the bliss
To meet a djolly word like this!
'Twas djust before my dinner hour --
Well, let the djuicy djoint go sour!
Djoyful I read. I djust must see
What this strange djolan word may be!
Ah! ha! It is a noun! A noun!
(A ''name word" as we say in town)
"E. Ind. The native name of the
Year bird." These are the words I see.
"A hornbill with a white tail and --"
The big book trembles in my hand --
"-- plicated membrane at the base --"
Ah, well-a-day! If that's the case!
"-- base of the beak, inhabiting --"
Oh! dictionary, wond'rous thing!
"-- the Sunda Islands ----" Where would we
Without our dictionary be?
"-- Malacca, e-t-c." That's all!
I let the dictionary fall.
I am replete. All is explained.
Knowledge (it's power) is what I've gained!
Soft was the night, the eve how airy,
I read no more the dictionary,
But Oh! and Oh! my heart was stirred
To learn the djolan was a bird!
Submitted by John Martin
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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His Soul
ONCE from the world of living men
I passed, by a strange fancy led,
To a still City of the Dead,
To call upon a citizen.
He had been famous in his day;
Much talked of, written of, and praised
For virtues my small soul amazed—
And yet I thought his heart was clay.
He was too full of grace for me:
His friends said, on a marble stone,
His soul sat somewhere near the Throne
I did not know; I called to see.
His name and fame were on the door—
A most superior tomb indeed,
Much railed, and gilt, and filigreed;
He occupied the lower floor.
I knocked—a worm crawled from its hole:
I looked—and knew it for his soul.
poem by Victor James Daley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Holy Spirit Power
Always learning but never knowing
The things they so often say,
Having form but not empowering-
The Spirit absent when they pray.
You see the Substance of the Word
Is not just idle words we send,
It has the Power of the Lord
Cutting through the hearts of men.
Without the Presence of the Savior,
In the hearts of those who study,
There is no Guide in all their labor,
Their search for Truth will be so empty.
Voluminous words won't touch another
But space and time it will occupy.
For only God bestows His Power
On a man's word, devoid of lies.
You wonder then, why do some have it?
Their words like flames fly out to you,
The message burns, your soul to meet
Your mind and heart it will undo.
For the workings of the Holy Spirit,
The Power of that Resurrection,
Transcends the plane of tales and myth,
And breaks the chains of false perception.
Desire His Presence, let Him fill you-
And humbly ask for His anointing,
His gifts will pour out, birth in you
Love, Joy, Peace, and Long-Suffering.
Your barren previous life will be
Active, growing, ever joyful-
His Power guides your step you see
He'll make you whole, oh so fruitful!
You'll see the Word in a new perspective,
And you'll understand the God you seek.
His Word will live and be so active
That knowledge makes you humble, meek.
'I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.'
Psalm 119: 32
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mr Speaker Gets The Word
Wriggles from his captors arms
Mr speaker gets the word and
Running now from the alarms
Speaks his mind free as a bird
Free now to roam around
Stand up straight when he quotes
Spread the word that he has found
Books of verse and scribbled notes
Mister speaker gets the word
(to tell the secrets he has heard)
Speaks so fast his words are slurred
(mister speaker gets the word)
Stands up straight outside my door
I bring you now the words Ive learned
To whom it may concern senor
Tell my friends I have returned
Mister speaker gets the word
(to tell the secrets he has heard)
Speaks so fast his words are slurred
(mister speaker gets the word)
Excitement rages through his brain
Stirred and stirred throughout the years
Not enough time to explain
Eyes of many sighs of fear
Making space from colney hatch lane
Just some poetry my friend
Scuttles past my window frame
Vanishes right round the bend
Mister speaker gets the word
(to tell the secrets he has heard)
Speaks so fast his words are slurred
(mister speaker gets the word)
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr Speaker
Wriggles from his captors arms
Mr speaker gets the word and
Running now from the alarms
Speaks his mind free as a bird
Free now to roam around
Stand up straight when he quotes
Spread the word that he has found
Books of verse and scribbled notes
Mister speaker gets the word
(to tell the secrets he has heard)
Speaks so fast his words are slurred
(mister speaker gets the word)
Stands up straight outside my door
I bring you now the words Ive learned
To whom it may concern senor
Tell my friends I have returned
Mister speaker gets the word
(to tell the secrets he has heard)
Speaks so fast his words are slurred
(mister speaker gets the word)
Excitement rages through his brain
Stirred and stirred throughout the years
Not enough time to explain
Eyes of many sighs of fear
Making space from colney hatch lane
Just some poetry my friend
Scuttles past my window frame
Vanishes right round the bend
Mister speaker gets the word
(to tell the secrets he has heard)
Speaks so fast his words are slurred
(mister speaker gets the word)
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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