Xezel
Woe to those who plot evil upon their beds!
For she who was in labour has now given birth;
And they coveted fields and homes and oppressed the poor.
The flower of Lebanon wilts and i cannot find my lover,
And like flaming torches in the day of preparation!
But they entangled like thorns and they are drunk like drunkards!
The seductive harlot is with Xezel,
And many are ready with their axes at the big tree!
For she who was in labour has now given birth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Birth of A Feeling
There was a great storm in my mind,
I heard the thunder pounding in my heart,
Even lightning struck through my nerves,
The condition senseless and unusual,
The vibrations so intense and vivid,
My heart so determined and focused,
The muscles pulling and stretching,
My heart was in a labour room,
The birth of a feeling
I saw you and I liked you,
My sight impregnated my heart,
The world longed to witness the day,
Behold the day has came,
My heart in a state of shock,
Holding in its hand a feeling,
Behold let the day be remembered
The birth of a feeling
In an unexpected labour room,
With an unexpected general populacy,
For an unexpected pure lady,
A feeling was born, for her
Should the feeling die a young one,
Or should it reach adulthood,
It is a question of faith, yes
Spare her the good news,
Or keep the feeling a secret,
For how long will i hide the feeling,
For the birth I alone knows,
Yet the death we dont expect
I am falling for you,
Yet falling without you,
In the womb still I was not sure,
The doubts of a child in the womb,
I skipped my period and I knew,
Yes I was pregnant with a feeling for you,
Celebrate this birthday with me,
The birth of a feeling
You may never be the parent,
But the child is for you,
Adopt it maybe, or abandon it maybe,
It shall so mightly grow and grow,
Oh beautiful feeling of mine,
I celebrate, the birth of a feeling
poem by Gaylord Munemo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Philanthropist
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe decrease
By cautious birth-control and die in peace)
Mellow with learning lightly took the word
That marked him not with them that love the Lord,
And told the angel of the book and pen
"Write me as one that loves his fellow-men:
For them alone I labour; to reclaim
The ragged roaming Bedouin and to tame
To ordered service; to uproot their vine
Who mock the Prophet, being mad with wine,
Let daylight through their tents and through their lives,
Number their camels, even count their wives;
Plot out the desert into streets and squares,
And count it a more fruitful work than theirs
Who lift a vain and visionary love
To your vague Allah in the skies above."
Gently replied the angel of the pen:
"Labour in peace and love your fellow-men:
And love not God, since men alone are dear,
Only fear God; for you have Cause to fear."
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
The Philanthropist
(With apologies to a Beautiful Poem)
ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe decrease
By cautious birth-control and die in peace)
Mellow with learning lightly took the word
That marked him not with them that love the Lord,
And told the angel of the book and pen
'Write me as one that loves his fellow-men:
For them alone I labour; to reclaim
The ragged roaming Bedouin and to tame
To ordered service; to uproot their vine
Who mock the Prophet, being mad with wine,
Let daylight through their tents and through their lives,
Number their camels, even count their wives;
Plot out the desert into streets and squares,
And count it a more fruitful work than theirs
Who lift a vain and visionary love
To your vague Allah in the skies above.'
Gently replied the angel of the pen:
'Labour in peace and love your fellow-men:
And love not God, since men alone are dear,
Only fear God; for you have Cause to fear.'
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Tree of Ashes
The Tree Of Ashes
'You should have died at birth'
That's what his mother said
Had he died at birth
Maybe, many would be ahead
Soon, She's the one who's leaving
Going on her way
She will be the one who will be judged
On that her judgement day
He was the blame for all their ills
Although he knows not why
Maybe they all were right
And should have taken the time to die
He didn't die, he's still he's still here
What should we do with him?
Find a stone to cast at him
You who are all without sin
There are two who squabble over things
Not theirs and never were
And two who could care less
For Frankincense and Myrrh
When she's gone, she'll be the last
Of that tree with broken branches
Spread over the earth, is this tree
The tree that's turned to ashes
A tree that could have been so strong
Instead of mean and ugly sorrow
This tree of life that will be gone
As quickly as tomorrow
Jim 2008
poem by James Casey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Labour Of Love
Marriage is a two-headed transplant,
Sometimes thats how it seems.
When the sex wears off its all give and take,
And its good-bye to all your dreams.
One head wants to go to a movie
While the other wants to stay at home,
And just like a two-headed transplant
You get the feeling that youre never alone.
Mr. and mrs. horrible are an example of what I say.
They used to be so in love, now they fight so much
That theyve frightened all their friends away.
They never get visits from neighbors,
Theyve alienated everyone.
And what started off as all cuddles and kisses
Has finally become
A labour of love, labour of love.
The torment, the worry and woe,
Loves full of fears, bruises and tears,
Thats the way that a true love grows.
Its a labour of love, labour of love.
Its a struggle, without a doubt,
But if they keep on trying, screaming and crying,
Somehow theyre gonna work it all out.
It turned into a two-headed transplant,
But it started off with here comes the bride.
But cut off one of the heads and youll soon find out
That the other just couldnt survive.
Because they couldnt stand to be separated
They still each others to have and hold.
Anyone who thinks the transplant is easy
Really ought to be told
Its a labour of love, labour of love.
The torments, the worries and whoas,
The battles, the fights, the bruises and bites,
Thats the way that a true love grows.
They took the vows, for better or worse,
And they had it blessed by heaven above,
But what started so brightly as a tender romance
Turned into a labour of love.
Turned into a labour of love.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Carlo, Do Not Grieve
do not grieve
over a woman
she is just a flower
and like a flower
it will not take
a longer time
she wilts and then
you will be free?
shall you be free
when that flower wilts?
can't you be at least
a busy bee?
she is not the only flower
in this garden
there are so many more
don't grieve my friend
be a man
man is reason.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Happenings
A transient smile lights up a moonless
landscape, catalyzing the woes of
labour of hot arguments. A fragile
peace prevails. When the plot thickens
let me count the bodies in the domain
of a wasted god.
Meanwhile I will get an interim sunless
day to find the mystery of believers.
A bridge had ultimately collapsed.
In the panic room, no image filters.
You continue to draw the nudes of goddesses
and distance yourself from the rubble of axes.
Battle-scarred earth throws up
a severed head of a patriarch
who refused to open his eyes.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Baby's First Day Out
Government General Hospital
Maternity Ward No. 42
authorized intake : 65
actually admitted : 97
most busiest LABOUR ROOM
in the district
every 18 th minute
you will hear a new born cry
birth rate is higher
on Sundays and Holidays
24 x 7 Industry - very great service -
in the large pre-natal hall
there hangs a small, old sign board
both in Hindi and vernacular
' Beware of Thieves
Keep your belongings safe'
with an ugly insertion, as a last line,
‘Protect your child from being
Stolen or exchanged'
as if, the restricted labour ward is
just any other market place.
poem by Santhana Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Up-Hill
Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.
But is there for the night a resting-place?
A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.
Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing at that door.
Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labour you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti (1858)
Submitted by anonym
Vote! | Copy!
Without You
A palace is but a shack
Limousine a jalopy
A tuxedo is but rags
Gold is devalued to mud
Riches are but poverty
A garden is a desert
Roses turn out to be thorns
The sun dances in the night
Health is pregnant with illness
Laughter gives birth to crying
Music gives birth to mourning
Gladness gives birth to groaning
Everything becomes nothing
Life is but death without You
poem by Howard Simon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
For it is we who must pray for our daily bread, and if He grants it to us, it is only through our labour, our skill and preparation.
quote by Paracelsus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Sane Revolution
If you make a revolution, make it for fun,
don't make it in ghastly seriousness,
don't do it in deadly earnest,
do it for fun.
Don't do it because you hate people,
do it just to spit in their eye.
Don't do it for the money,
do it and be damned to the money.
Don't do it for equality,
do it because we've got too much equality
and it would be fun to upset the apple-cart
and see which way the apples would go a-rolling.
Don't do it for the working classes.
Do it so that we can all of us be little aristocracies on our own
and kick our heels like jolly escaped asses.
Don't do it, anyhow, for international Labour.
Labour is the one thing a man has had too much of.
Let's abolish labour, let's have done with labouring!
Work can be fun, and men can enjoy it; then it's not labour.
Let's have it so! Let's make a revolution for fun!
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ode to Rebirth - Cross Century Surgery Operation
voila! if rebirth is a fact and
time travel is mastered
you can always request
at the cross century
surgery theatre, your first human birth
eyes, second birth eyebrows
fifth birth nose, cheeks,
eighth birth shoulder blade, and
the fusion of fifth and eight birth sexes
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Animations
Of your blossom,
Of your bud,
Of your fruit;
You are from the vineyard of red wine my love,
But the grain must be ground to make bread.
To the drunkards of Ephraim i will never share my love with,
Like a woman in pain who is about to give birth to a baby;
Of the animations of life,
Of magic and polydaemonism!
Of a fadding flower like the animation of things.
You are the lady of beauty and the lady of Kingdoms,
But the flood of mighty waters is overflowing around you;
Like the first fruit before summer.
Cry like a woman in labour and write down this story,
For the Blacksmith has taken his tools;
But, prepare the way for the Carpenter to encourage the Goldsmith.
I am the voice of him who cries in the wilderness,
And i am like the cormorent and the owl;
For the inhabitants around are like grasshoppers without any hope.
Sow beside all waters and gain the morrow,
For death cannot praise you when you are gone.
Like a market place of the nations where the hungry man dreams,
Mourn like a dove with tried stones around its neek.
Animations,
Of the work and life we live in;
Animations,
Of the act of ones hope towards a dream;
You are very beautiful from a special vineyard.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Inevitable
Inevitable is the rising and setting of the sun
The rising and falling of the tides
The opening and closing of your eyes
The agony of labour
The birth and death of life
poem by Mohammod Choudhury
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Lebanon
She dreams of nineteen sixty-nine
Before the soldiers came
The life was cheap on bread and wine
And sharing meant no shame
She is awakened by the screams
Of rockets flying from nearby
And scared she clings onto her dreams
To beat the fear that she might die
And who will have won
When the soldiers have gone
From the lebanon
The lebanon
Before he leaves the camp he stops
He scans the world outside
And where there used to be some shops
Is where the snipers sometimes hide
He left his home the week before
He thought hed be like the police
But now he finds he is at war
Werent we supposed to keep the peace
And who will have won
When the soldiers have gone
From the lebanon
The lebanon
The lebanon
From the lebanon
I must be dreaming
It cant be true
I must be dreaming
It cant be true
And who will have won
When the soldiers have gone?
From the lebanon
The lebanon
The lebanon
From the lebanon
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Second of Evil
Second of Evil
Battle bee, you are second of evil
Why so much whispering with flower?
Flower comes of flower
Seed comes of fruit
Are all these your deeds?
Affection of soil installs life at road towards Tamarisk tree.
Love of season causes the fair of flower.
If sun does not rises tomorrow
Then what will be done of battle bee?
Battle bee what you whisper with flower?
Only god knows which came first the tree or the seed.
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I will not become a Napoleon nor an Alexander, and labour for my own ambition; but I will labour for freedom and for the moral well-being of man.
quote by Lajos Kossuth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Making a cartoon occupied usually about three full days, two spent in labour and one in removing the appearance of labour.
Feeling Headaches Occasionally PMS Intense
my PMS is secondary not primary
secondary is collateral range fallout
consequences lapping lunar cycles
birth red rose booms periodic flowers
my PMS is primary not secondary
work intense pressure creation created
back aches legs ache long sitting days
birth labour new life passage tunnel costs
your PMS is primary not secondary
i think sorry yours is bad lots of headaches
some more soon monthly regular pms headaches
post modern syndrome suffer gender regardless
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!