Sorrow
Oh, how the mighty one has fallen!
In scarlet and in luxury but more than pains,
In the City called Adam with no glory,
To the fields of swords and to the fields of sorrow with words!
For, the mighty one fell with a clue,
And like the dead of many in the land of mines.
Tell me, how beautiful were your tents? ! !
Upon the throne of the kingdom and of words;
For, in the spring timew of the year came the war.
This blow is swifter than the claws of the eagles!
And, it is also stronger than the lonely lion in the thick forest of Africa;
But, like the poor man's little lamb in the land of trouble.
Oh, how the mighty one has fallen!
On the crags of the wild goats with honey and butter;
But, with one little ewe lamb to walk across.
My legs are like the legs of the deer in the forest of hope!
But, in the fields of sorrow are many dead bodies;
And, the City called Adam is now with no glory.
Oh, how the great one has fallen!
In the cave of jealousy with words of sorrow;
But, out of many waters without a view! !
And like the scarlet and the luxury to the sword.
Oh, that somebody would guide and give me a drink of water! !
From the wells of Bethlehem with the sign of hope;
For, there are many dead bodies already in the land of mines.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Related quotes
Avalanche-the White Death
The land is white
The name of the land brings you
to the land of nothing
The name is white
The white is dead
Sun shines pale, the land shades full of pain
Avalea doesn't bloom and fall in this drain
I'm going back alive again
But no one's crying for the dead
The land is still white
Ice and snow are still the same as yesterday
But the wind is stronger in the sorrow
The land is white
The white is dead
They weep wherever they blow
Forever love, cursed land
Forever goodbye, my lovely land
No more tears falling in this land
Even the sand doesn't know
why he doesn't round to anywhere
The land has frozen like stone
The air is blowed dead
The land is white
The name is white
The land called white is dead
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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The Lions Share
[ music: natalie merchant & dennis drew/words: natalie merchant ]
Can I be unhappy?
Look at what I see: a beast in furs and crowned in luxury.
Hes a wealthy man in the poorest land, a self-appointed king,
And theres no complaining while hes reigning.
The lambs are bare of fleece and cold; the lion has stolen that, Im told.
There must be some creature mighty as you are.
The lambs go hungry (not fair), the biggest portion is the lions share.
There must be some creature mighty as you are.
Can I be unhappy?
Listen and agree, no words can shame him or tame him.
The lambs are bare of fleece and cold; the lion has stolen that, Im told.
There must be some creature mighty as you are.
The lambs go hungry (not fair), the biggest portion is the lions share.
There must be some creature mighty as you are, as you are.
Razor claws in velvet paws, you dunce in your guarded home,
til a stronger beast will call on you and pounce upon your throne.
Do we pay? dearly, for the lion takes so greedily
And he knows that what hes taken, it is ours.
Thats how the wealths divided among the lambs and king of the beasts, it is so one-sided.
Until the lamb is king of the beasts we live so one-sided.
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have written
And I have written sorrow many times
Yet never cried
These tears
I have written laughter in sunspilt skies
Though kept my laughter hidden out of view
And what you see, you who see these words?
What you see is true, yet not all true
For words hang in the air
Under a vacant sky
Leaving no trace or sign or clue
Of what is lived
Of what is breathed
And concieved
In every careful wording of an 'I'
In every other that finds a 'you'
I have written sorrow many times
With eyes unwept
For fallen trees and generations gone
Keeping their secrets and their brokeness
In all that cannot tell itself
Yet travels in the silence between what is said
And what is dead, and what is gone
yvette smith march 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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Brunton Stephens
The gentle heart that hated wrong,
The courage that all ills withstood,
The seeing eye, the mighty song
That stirred us into Nationhood,
Have passed. What garlands can be spread?
The Prince of Courtesy is dead.
The power that touched all human chords
With wit that lightened thro’ the years
Without a sting, whose tender words
Unsealed the fountain of our tears—
Ah! bow the heart and bend the head—
The Prince of Courtesy is dead.
Great Singer of the South, who set
Thy face to Duty as a star,
Though, in hushed skies of violet,
Thy throne of kingship gleamed afar,
Shall not the toil of common days
Add nobler lustre to thy bays!
O Mighty Voice, whose words shall stand—
When all our songs have ceased to be—
Steadfast, the watchwords of our land,
The guide and torch of Liberty!
The Master-Poet called afar,
And thou at last hast found thy star!
poem by George Essex Evans
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Drowing, not Smiling
Sorrow deepens as the waves
engulve the land.
I perch on thet forest floor and cry.
Water flows out of my view.
Birds deliberatly sit at the edge of my sorrow-
as dogs lick my sorrow away.
And i fly with the wind
like ghosts whom stare out
in the open sky.
Shortly the land beyond is covered
with tears of my soul.
I drowned in sorrow,
and soon the water evaporates
with the sun.
As i lie on my back
the unclouded eyes,
smiled joyously;
traces of sorrow were
to be found, on my soul-
yet i felt free, uplifted:
and i was not drowning-
but smiling.
poem by Celine Berghmans
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Golden Streets Of Glory
Glory to his name, oh, holy, holy
Theres a city where the streets are paved in gold
A land where the milk and the honey flow
And a mansion which for me
cause my Bible tells the story
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
Green meadows where the little children play
No sorrow there, just one long happy day
And none will litter there except the pure and the holy
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
And when Ive reached my journeys end
And if Im worthy to go in
Golden streets of glory, I walk on
And the golden streets of my new home
Will lead me up to the masters throne
With the angel band Ill sing
Glory to his name, oh, holy, holy
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
Hallelujah, I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
And when Ive reached my journeys end
And if Im worthy to go in
Golden streets of glory, Ill walk on
And the golden streets of my new home
Will lead me up to the masters throne
With the angel band Ill sing
Glory to his name, oh, holy, holy
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
Hallelujah, I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Wonder.
In Flanders Fields red poppies grow.
But long dead warriors lie below.
Their rotted bodies nourishing
The scarlet poppies flourishing..
As if to draw attention to.
The graves of men who never knew.
That they would not see their homes more
But here they lie for evermore.
In Flanders Fields lost heroes lie.
In unmarked graves beneath the sky.
Far from the which gave them birth
They add their substance to the earth.
Which Belgian farmers cultivate.
Selected randomly by fate.
There can be few survivors left
But those of us who choose to go
To Flanders where the poppies grow.
All make the trip to show respect
Numbers dwindling as you'd expect.
There's very few now left to go.
To see the scarlet poppies glow
The numbers grow less day by day.
When they are called they must obey.
Rejoining those who went before.
The men who fell in the Great War.
I wonder will poppies still grow
When there's no one left to go.
Monday,25 June 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Church Building
Uncle Jacob often told us,
Since freedom blessed our race
We ought all to come together
And build a meeting place.
So we pinched, and scraped, and spared,
A little here and there:
Though our wages was but scanty,
The church did get a share.
And, when the house was finished,
Uncle Jacob came to pray;
He was looking mighty feeble,
And his head was awful gray.
But his voice rang like a trumpet;
His eyes looked bright and young;
And it seemed a mighty power
Was resting on his tongue.
And he gave us all his blessing -
'Twas parting words he said,
For soon we got the message
The dear old man was dead.
But I believe he's in the kingdom,
For when we shook his hand
He said, 'Children, you must meet me
Right in the promised land;
'For when I done a moiling
And toiling here below,
Through the gate into the city
Straightway I hope to go.'
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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Oh It Is Africa
Oh it is Africa
Oh Africa it is my mother land
land of milk and honey
land of natural beauty
Oh Africa land is where i live
Oh Africa is
A land blessed by God himself
On the day of creation
God threw diamond like stone
gold like rain
He dropped crude oil like rain
Oh Africa
land of milk and honey
Oh Africa
Guns and bombs, tears and mud
Luxury limos race through blood
But bound by debt to hopelessness
poem by Lizzie Davis
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Sad Oak
I’ve a sad story about a great oak that fell.
It now lies dead…a useless empty shell.
This oak once was the mightiest tree in this land,
Towering over others mired in rock and sand.
Its roots were deep and drank from rich soil
While others suffered in their unending toil.
Mighty oak’s trunk stretched toward the sky,
Unconcerned as the others continued to die.
Its branches held proudly to each healthy leaf,
Caring little of the forest’s deepening grief.
Why be concerned with this world of dying and weak?
They seemed to offer nothing the great oak would seek.
Then fate spoke to the oak, but its message was denied.
Suddenly climate started to change and the rains subside.
With no help from dead comrades, temperatures did soar.
Scant vegetation protected the earth’s life giving floor.
Had oak shared light, rain and riches of the land,
Sad oak and the forest would not be rock and sand.
So much had been given to this unique, mighty oak.
Sadly, its life ended before its spirit of giving awoke.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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This Land Is Your Land
Well I rode that ribbon highway
I saw above me the endless sky
I saw below me the golden valley
This land was made for you and me
Ive roamed and rambled and followed my footsteps
Through the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts
And all around me a voice was calling
This land was made for you and me
This land is your land
This land is my land
From california
To the new york island
From the redwood forest
To the gulf stream waters
This land was made for you and me
Well the sun came shining and I was strolling
Through wheat fields waving and dust clouds rolling
And a voice was sounding
As the fog was lifting
Saying this land was made for you and me
This land is your land
This land is my land
From california
To the new york island
From the redwood forest
To the gulf stream waters
This land was made for you and me
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mighty
Walking this high road are warriors from an olden time
Curse on this land and the days far behind us
Dragons weve slain, rescued many maidens fair
And no man ever dared break our stride
Or the brotherhood that binds us.
Brothers are we, marching on the roads of time
From this broken land and the days that defined us
All men are free, justice is a sword we hold
Trusting in the knights noble vow
In the brotherhood that binds us.
When the broken are strong
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the beaten are proud
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the twisted can stand
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the silenced can laugh
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the hunted have turned
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the tortured are sane
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the blinded still stare
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the poisoned remain
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the voiceless can sing
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
And the shackled can run
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
And this downtrodden man holds his face to the sun
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
Well be walking high above the world.
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
Our legend will say
Freak the mighty
Freak the mighty
Freak the mighty
Freak the mighty
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Blooming Shame
Still fields of scarlet poppies blow
on long abandoned battle fields.
The bones of dead men hid below
will feed their roots increasing yields.
The few survivors are now all dead.
Rejoined the comrades that they knew.
So we remember in their stead.
The many who salute the few.
Now Patch is dead he was the last
veteran who survived the war
A living relic from the past
who lived a hundred years and more.
There�s no one left who can recall
the muddy trenches and the gas.
The pain of seeing comrades fall.
He watched the long years slowly pass.
He never sought publicity.
He was a very private man
but became a celebrity
The last surviving veteran.
Each year the scarlet poppies grow
On Flanders Fields abundantly
The countless dead who lie below
Have earned their place in history.
By foolish useless sacrifice
They gave their lives to end all war
I think they paid to high a price.
The world is as it was before.
Men are still killing other men
but now much more efficiently
Each year we fail to learn again
the lessons taught by history.
There are no winners in a war.
There never was nor will there be.
But men will fight for evermore.
It�s human nature seemingly.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Field Of Joy
let's wander slowly through the fields
slowly slowly through the fields
i touch the leaves that touch the sky
just you and i through fields of joy
all trouble slowly fades away
slowly slowly fades away
i hold your hand inside my hand
across the land through fields of joy
the sound of music that we hear
the blend of colors throug the air
all cities, mountains disappear from view
all truth and beauty near to me and you
with you through the fields
with you through the fields
with you through the fields
the fields of joy
let's wander slowly through the fields
slowly slowly through the fields
i know our love will never die
just you and i
through fields of joy
through fields of joy
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home From The Forest
Oh the neon lights were flashin
And the icy wind did blow
The water seeped into his shoes
And the drizzle turned to snow
His eyes were red, his hopes were dead
And the wine was runnin low
And the old man came home
From the forest
His tears fell on the sidewalk
As he stumbled in the street
A dozen faces stopped to stare
But no one stopped to speak
For his castle was a hallway
And the bottle was his friend
And the old man stumbled in
From the forest
Up a dark and dingy staircase
The old man made his way
His ragged coat around him
As upon his cot he lay
And he wondered how it happened
That he ended up this way
Getting lost like a fool
In the forest
And as he lay there sleeping
A vision did appear
Upon his mantle shining
A face of one so dear
Who had loved him in the springtime
Of a long-forgotten year
When the wildflowers did bloom
In the forest
She touched his grizzled fingers
And she called him by his name
And then he heard the joyful sound
Of children at their games
In an old house on a hillside
In some forgotten town
Where the river runs down
From the forest
With a mighty roar the big jets soar
Above the canyon streets
And the con men con but life goes on
For the city never sleeps
And to an old forgotten soldier
The dawn will come no more
For the old man has come home
From the forest
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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21st Century Man
A penny in your pocket
Suitcase in your hand
They wont get you very far
Now youre a 21st century man.
Fly across the city
Rise above the land
You can do most anything
Now youre a 21st century man.
Though you ride on the wheels of tomorrow (tomorrow)
You still wander the fields of your sorrow
What will it bring?
One day youre a hero
Next day youre a clown
Theres nothing that is in between
Now youre a 21st century man.
You should be so happy
You should be so glad
So why are you so lonely
You 21st century man?
You stepped out of a dream
Believing everything was gone
Return with what youve learned
Theyll kiss the ground you walk upon.
Things aint how you thought they were
Nothing have you planned
So pick up your penny and your suitcase
Youre not a 21st century man.
Though you ride on the wheels of tomorrow
You still wander the fields of your sorrow (sorrow)
Tomorrow, 21st century man
21st century man
21st century man...
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Returning Home
In the smoke I smell
Dead animals,
Dead neighbors, friends, and family members.
In the mist I see
All those who were once alive.
Behind me
Our town stands
Burned down to ashes;
Only skeletons remain.
This war has taken away so much.
In the rubble on the streets
I see
The way things once were.
Happy homes
Filled with laughter
Children playing
Stickball in the street.
Now
So much has been taken
Away from me.
We find bodies
In the yards, in the wells,
In our fields and on the streets;
Dead animals,
Dead neighbors, friends, and family members.
The war is over
And we are back.
To bury the dead,
To give hope to the young,
To start again.
poem by Rabia Minhas
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Lament for Atlantis
Mighty gods, O rulers of all beneath ye,
hear this lamentation I bear, that speaks of
fair Atlantis, place of my birthplace, lost now,
drowned by the ocean.
Lonely lies the land of Atlantis, lost now
under ocean. Once it was full of wonders,
once it was full of people and temples, drowned now
under the deep waves.
Drowned, she lies, lost under the ocean's broad reach;
once a queen, now draped in a corpse's wound sheet,
fair Atlantis lay as a pearl above all pearls,
above all known lands.
Once an empress over all lands, she lies drowned;
deep beneath the ocean she lies, she lies low
under endless waves while the years and the ages
pass like a swift wind.
No-one comes to comfort her, ease her sorrow.
All her friends have left her alone in sorrow,
all the lands have dealt with her treacherously,
left her unmourned, lorn.
Fair Atlantis lies in the ocean's deep breast
while the nations come no more, under dyed sails,
bring no gifts of gold or else costly cargoes
under the dyed sails.
All her temples lie in the ocean's deep breast,
all her festivals and sacred statues,
all her sacred slaves and her holy virgins
lie in its deep breast.
All her sacred groves, and her many fair fields
lie beneath the ocean; and all her cities
lie beneath the waves that ye caused to rise up,
drown it in one day.
All her enemies have become as great kings,
saying: 'Fair Atlantis is lost for all time,
let us rule the Earth while she lies destroyed, dead
under the deep waves.'
Fair Atlantis calls to her former fair friends:
'High I raised you, gave you the gifts of great lore,
yet you all exult in my sudden downfall,
strut like a vain cock.'
How the countries envy her glories, lost now
while beneath the ocean she lies, forlorn, lost,
when her people lived as do heroes god-blessed,
basking in glory.
When her people fell to the ocean waves,
how the countries mocked at her fall to harsh fate,
how the countries mocked at her, lost to deep waves
rolling above her.
Is her fate naught to the mighty nations?
Fair she rose and ruled, but now desolate, drowned
deep beneath waves, fallen from pride that whelms all,
which will befall them.
For my land, I weep with my bitter, bleak eyes,
for my birthplace, lost for all time, and drowned now.
Nothing heals my heart in its endless sorrow,
mourning my lost land.
See: her enemies have prevailed, are puffed proud;
see: her children wander the world, are scattered
over many lands, for her enemies rule
over all known lands.
Let the lands' pride lead to their needed downfall,
let them drown so deep in their insolent pride,
till the world is free from the taint of humans
lost to redemption.
poem by Phillip Ellis
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I Long For That City
For that City do I deeply long
Where victory songs we'll sing
Temper is all grace and good there
Discontent and malice won't ever flare
For that City does my heart beat
No room is there for the chaff, only the wheat
It's all pure gold, as clear as glass
Shining with God's glory, like a stone all precious
To dwelling in that City I look forward
Where a river with the water of life flows downward
From the throne of God and of the Lamb
No regrets there; just peace under Jesus' thumb
There's no death
There's no sorrow
There's no crying
There's no pain
How I long for that City!
poem by by unknown author
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Early Works - Impressions
Between the words, I read
a picture rises,
dark clouds and sunshine,
stormy seas and gentle fields,
lives of hardship and rising glory,
men and women with weather beaten faces.
Expressions of happiness and sorrow
from Monday’s bleakness to Sunday’s rest.
The world revolves,
a man with no station,
a woman with no pride.
The fallen hero
hears the echoing silence
where voices were once raised
impressions from a pen.
6 October 1980
poem by David Harris
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