Seven Decades
At ten I read Mayakovsky had died,
learned my first word of Russian, lyublyu;
watched my English teacher poke his earwax
with a well-chewed HB and get the class
to join his easy mocking of my essay
where I'd used verdant herbage for green grass.
So he was right? So I hated him!
And he was not really right, the ass.
A writer knows what he needs,
as came to pass.
At twenty I got marching orders, kitbag,
farewell to love, not arms, (though our sole arms
were stretchers), a freezing Glentress winter
where I was coaxing sticks at six to get
a stove hot for the cooks, found myself picked
quartermaster's clerk – 'this one seems a bit
less gormless than the bloody others' – did
gas drill in the stinging tent, met
Tam McSherry who farted at will
a musical set.
At thirty I thought life had passed me by,
translated Beowulf for want of love.
And one night stands in city centre lanes –
they were dark in those days – were wild but bleak.
Sydney Graham in London said, 'you know
I always thought so', kissed me on the cheek.
And I translated Rilke's Loneliness
is like a rain, and week after week after week
strained to unbind myself,
sweated to speak.
At forty I woke up, saw it was day,
found there was love, heard a new beat, heard Beats,
sent airmail solidarity to Saõ
Paulo's poetic-concrete revolution,
knew Glasgow – what? – knew Glasgow new – somehow –
new with me, with John, with cranes, diffusion
of another concrete revolution, not bad,
not good, but new. And new was no illusion:
a spring of words, a sloughing,
an ablution.
At fifty I began to have bad dreams
of Palestine, and saw bad things to come,
began to write my long unwritten war.
I was a hundred-handed Sindbad then,
rolled and unrolled carpets of blood and love,
raised tents of pain, made the dust into men
and laid the dust with men. I supervised
a thesis on Doughty, that great Englishman
who brought all Arabia back
in his hard pen.
At sixty I was standing by a grave.
The winds of Lanarkshire were loud and high.
I knew what I had lost, what I had had.
The East had schooled me about fate, but still
it was the hardest time, oh more, it was
the worst of times in self-reproach, the will
that failed to act, the mass of good not done.
Forgiveness must be like the springs that fill
deserted furrows till they wait
until – until –
At seventy I thought I had come through,
like parting a bead curtain in Port Said,
to something that was shadowy before,
figures and voices of late times that might
be surprising yet. The beads clash faintly
behind me as I go forward. No candle-light
please, keep that for Europe. Switch the whole thing
right on. When I go in I want it bright,
I want to catch whatever is there
in full sight.
poem by Edwin Morgan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
My heart beat
It all seems like today
Ages have passed by…
My heart missed a beat
When I first saw you
When you stretched out your hand
When you spoke to me first
When you said you look good
When you stood talking for hours
My heart missed a beat
My heart missed a beat
When I met you
When we started dating
When we went on shopping
When we spent time in each other’s company
When we were in each other’s arms
My heart missed a beat
My heart missed a beat
When I wanted to say something
When you found that life was miserable
When you thought I should live with you
When you enjoyed my company
When you proposed to me
My heart missed a beat
My heart missed a beat
When I felt your love
When we first had a talk
When we had a long walk
When we never heard the waves on the shore
When we knew we loved each other
My heart missed a leap
My heart missed a leap
When I lost words
When you found them for me
When you touched me first
When you blew in my ears
When you kissed me first
My heart missed a beat
My heart missed a beat
When I saw the ring
When we decided
When we finalized things
When we knew everything was fine
When we heard the revolt
My heart missed a beat
My heart missed a beat
When I saw you parents
When you said your mother’s decision
When you were thinking twice
When you wanted to satisfy both
When your thoughts wavered
My heart missed a beat
My heart missed a beat
When I understood you
When we decided to go ahead
When we said this is the right time
When we told our friends
When we held hands
My heart missed a beat
My heart missed a beat
When I became your wife
When you were all to myself
When you said you love me lots
When you and your mother accepted me
When you became my world
My heart missed a beat
My heart missed a beat
When I knew a life in me
When we realized the fact
When we understood our culmination’s fruit
When we were to be too proud
When we heard a heart in me
My heart missed a beat
My heart missed a beat
When I first heard them cry
When you saw with sparkling eyes our babies
When you said they resemble me
When you said I am now a proud father of two
When you said I love you for this
My heart missed a beat
My heat missed a beat
When I heard them call me mom
When we were proud parents
When we shared happy moments
When we saw them grow
When we heard good things about them
My heart missed a beat
My heart missed a beat
When I knew it was time for marriages again
When you said just both of us now
When you saw me with love
When you said you look young still
When you whispered I love you
My heart missed a beat
You are a part of me
Even in our ripe old age
My heart beats only for you from day one
The day yours stop so will mine stop
For my heart beats only for you…
It all seems like today
Ages have passed by…
poem by Leena Bose
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Part 2 ~ Times Tables
The little girl felt sick at her stomach. She fought back the urge to vomit and cry as she lay in bed wondering where her mother was. The fear of what lay beneath her bed was not as urgent as the more immediate fear that her mother might not come back this time. Her younger brother was in the next room sleeping. He didn't seem too upset by the fact that their mother had disappeared two weeks earlier. He might have been worried but he wouldn't let it show, and they never talked about it. They both knew that their family was different. The word dysfunctional had not yet been coined to describe what life was like in the Taylor's home. How do you describe hell? All she knew was that they were the family all the neighbors on the quiet cul-de-sac whispered about, and that whenever she would go over to a friends house to play their parents would look at her with softness in their eyes. Her best friend Erin told her that everyone on their street could hear the fighting.
One times six is six, two times six is twelve, three times six is eighteen, four times six is twenty four…
The last time she had seen her mother she was screaming gibberish at the top of her lungs. She was spitting out words with so much force that they were unintelligible, the whites of her eyes making her look like a wild animal. The little girl didn't know why her mother was so angry at her dad, but she had gotten use to it being a common everyday occurrence. She had torn the telephone out the wall for the umpteenth time and was throwing dishes at him. When she ran out of dishes she reached into the freezer, pulled out the ice cube tray and began pelting him with ice cubes. All HE was doing was ducking behind the kitchen table, trying to reason with her to no avail. She commonly worked herself up into a lather over the most insignificant things while her father remained calm. If he had better judgment he would have put her into an institution where she belonged, but all he would do was wait patiently for the unpredictable storms to pass, hoping that he could somehow repair the damage. She never understood why.
Five times six is thirty, six times six is thirty six, seven times six is forty two, eight times six is forty eight…
When her mother slammed the front door behind her, the little girl went over her father to console him. One of the ice cubes had hit him on the head and it was bleeding. She wrapped her arms around his huge frame with tenderness. 'Daddy', it's alright. I love you.' she began to say when suddenly the loud sound of crashing metal and glass drew her attention outside. She went to the living room window and could see her mother screeching backwards out of the driveway in her car, then putting it in drive again to ram full throttle into the rear of his car for a second time. Then a third. What was she doing? That was a new car. One that she had insisted on having like a spoiled child. It wasn't even a week old and she had just demolished it, but somehow she was still able to drive off to wherever it was she was going.
Nine times six is fifty four, ten times six is sixty, eleven time six is sixty six, twelve times six is seventy two…
Alone in the stillness of her bedroom she began to wonder if maybe her mother had given herself an accidental concussion and was wandering around somewhere confused. Her father had gone out looking for her again tonight, asking Erin's mother to come over until he returned. It was getting late, but the little girl kept repeating her multiplication ritual, trying not to think about anything else. If she made a mistake she had to start over again from the beginning. It had to be perfect. She had gotten all the way up to her 10 tables now.
One hundred times one is one hundred, one hundred times two is two hundred, one hundred times three is three hundred…
In her minds eye, the sums began to take on a new shape. They turned into days, and then weeks, and then months until she became aware of the prospect that her mother might not back at all. She stopped multiplying and drifted off into the most deep and restful sleep that she had ever had.
poem by Sara Fielder
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All I Want To Do Is Make Love To You
It was a rainy night
When he came into sight,
Standing by the road,
No umbrella, no coat.
So I pulled up alongside
And I offered him a ride.
He accepted with a smile,
So we drove for a while.
I didnt ask him his name,
This lonely boy in the rain.
Fate, tell me its right,
Is this love at first sight?
Please dont make it wrong,
Just stay for the night.
All I wanna do is make love to you
Say you will
You want me too
All I wanna do is make love to you
Ive got lovin arms to hold on to
So we found this hotel,
It was a place I knew well
We made magic that night.
Oh, he did everything right
He brought the woman out of me,
So many times, easily
And in the morning when he woke all
I left him was a note
I told him
I am the flower you are the seed
We walked in the garden
We planted a tree
Dont try to find me,
Please dont you dare
Just live in my memory,
Youll always be there
All I wanna do is make love to you
One night of love was all we knew
All I wanna do is make love to you
Ive got lovin arms to hold on to
Oh, oooh, we made love
Love like strangers
All night long
We made love
Then it happened one day,
We came round the same way
You can imagine his surprise
When he saw his own eyes
I said please, please understand
Im in love with another man
And what he couldnt give me
Was the one little thing that you can
All I wanna do is make love to you
One night of love was all we knew
All I wanna do is make love to you
Say you will, you want me too
All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
song performed by by Heart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Byblos
I saw her once before; she didnt turn me on.
One night she stopped to talk to pass the time.
And then I saw her eyes; her softly smiling glow,
We sat and talked all night at byblos.
She talked of feelings that I knew were true.
She painted me a picture using every shade of blue
It was light with laughter, at times it made me cry,
And now Ill never know just why I didnt ever try to hold her;
To squeeze her; to kiss her all night long, I never tried to please her.
Then, soon she had to go;
I sat there all alone
And thought of things she said
The whole day through.
And then I realized,
I never took the time
To find out where she lived
Or where to call.
I thought that I would see her
The next night,
Anticipating how Id set myself right.
Then, I went back to byblos;
I sat there and waited,
Feeling just a little nervous
And a little frustrated.
Then, soon, in she came, looking just the same
Oo, I could hardly wait to take her far from the game.
Then a person came in to the club
That I had to speak to
I explained the situation to her
And I thought she understood
But I guess she thought I was jiving her around
Cause when I looked for her, this is what I found
She was rapping with a real good friend of mine,
He was happening, I guess it was his time.
I really couldnt blame him, cause he was sad and lonely too.
But just talking to her did me so much good, I knew shed do him good too.
Then I went home and I got it on,
Sat down to write these words when I was finally alone.
And then, about halfway through I wondered if someone knew
Where she was, so I could give her a call,
And I found out that she was right down the hall,
Not too far away,
But thats ok, Ill just wait for the day when I can see her again
And spend some time.
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vampire Suicide
She walks through the graves,
Passing them one by one,
They all passed like they should, but she couldn’t, she remained times slave,
Even though she whished she could.
She walked by the people,
She read the stones like a book,
She read them all she knew all the people,
She watched as she began to look.
She looked at their names, their stones,
She studied their bitrthdays,
She knew them, she knew they were only bones,
But still she feels their pain, and what happened in their last days
She watched in sorrow, in hate,
She knew she should be one of them, she should be under ground,
She knew that she was supposed to suffer the same fate,
But now she wanders through eternity, her fate never to be found
She stopped at the end of the row one stone catches her eye,
She knew this person, this child,
She looks at the birth only eighteen years from when she died,
Her eyes fill with tears, and her still heart goes wild.
She knows she has eternity but that’s not what she wants,
She is the being of forever, the vampire,
“you don’t have to die” her mind taunts,
Her heart so cold her mind so wild, her soul filled with fire.
She drops to her knees the stake in her hand,
She lays the teddy bear one the s grave, her grave,
She lays unable to stand,
Now its not time but that she craves.
She takes the stake to her throat,
She pulls it across her marble skin,
The blood appears but not from her throat,
She feels eternity fade from her skin.
She lays feeling holding onto its’ thought,
She takes the stake away feeling the burn of the wood,
She lowers it to her heart she feels her skin get hot,
The burning begins just with a touch of the wood.
She lays in front of her grave with the flowers,
And she presses the knife deeper into herself,
She feels her body drain of all power,
She watches her eternity slip away, as she gets what she wants for herself.
The she never had now came to her side,
She held to it like a child to the mother breast,
She lost the grip of light and her grip on life began to slide,
She let it slip away, away with all the rest.
She watched as it all left her as she died above her grave,
She Walked with, she walked by its’ side
But now She is no longer times slave,
For this is the vampires’ suicide.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do you remember still the little song
Do you remember still the little song
I mumbled on the hill at Aura, how
I told you it was made for Katie's sake
When I was fresh from school and loving her
With all the strength of girlhood? And you said
You liked my song, although I didn't know
How it began at first and gabbled then
In a half voice, because I was too shy
To speak aloud, much less to speak them out —
Words I had joined myself — in the full voice
And with the lilt of proper poetry.
You could have hardly heard me. Here's the girl,
The little girl from school you never knew.
She made this song. Read what you couldn't hear.
How bright the windows are
When the dear sun shineth.
They strive to reflect the sun,
To be bright like the sun,
To give heat like the sun.
My heart too has its chosen one
And so to shine designeth.
The windows on the opposite hill that day
Shone bright at sunset too and made me think
Of the old patter I had half forgot,
Do you remember? I remind you now,
Who wandered yesterday for half an hour
Into St Francis, where I thought of you
And how I would be glad to love you well
If I but knew the way. The rhyme came back
Teasing me till I knew I hated it.
I couldn't take that way of loving you.
That was the girl's way. Hear the woman now.
Out of my thinking in the lonely church
And the day's labour in a friendly room
Tumbled a song this morning you will like.
I love my love
But I could not be
Good for his sake.
That frightens me.
Nor could I do
Such things as I should
Just for the sake
Of being good.
Deeds are too great
To serve my whim,
Be ways of loving
Myself or him.
Whether my deeds
Are good or ill
They're done for their own,
Not love's sake, still.
I didn't know it till the song was done
But that's Ramiro in a nutshell, eh,
With his contempt for individual souls
And setting of the deed above the man.
Perhaps I like him better than I thought,
Or would like, if he'd give me leave to scorn
Chameleon, adjectival good and ill
And set the deed so far above the man
As to be out of reach of morals too.
There you and I join issue once again.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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Song of the Dardanelles
The Wireless tells and the cable tells
How our boys behaved by the Dardanelles.
Some thought in their hearts “Will our boys make good?”
We knew them of old and we knew they would!
Knew they would—
Knew they would;
We were mates of old and we knew they would.
They laughed and they larked and they loved likewise,
For blood is warm under Southern skies;
They knew not Pharoah (’tis understood),
And they got into scrapes, as we knew they would.
Knew they would—
Knew they would;
And they got into scrapes, as we knew they would.
They chafed in the dust of an old dead land
At the long months’ drill in the scorching sand;
But they knew in their hearts it was for their good,
And they saw it through as we knew they would.
Knew they would—
Knew they would;
And they saw it through as we knew they would.
The Coo-ee called through the Mena Camp,
And an army roared like the Ocean’s tramp
On a gale-swept beach in her wildest mood,
Till the Pyramids shook as we knew they would.
Knew they would—
Knew they would.
(And the Sphinx woke up as we knew she would.)
They were shipped like sheep when the dawn was grey;
(But their officers knew that no lambs were they).
They squatted and perched where’er they could,
And they “blanky-ed” for joy as we knew they would.
Knew they would—
Knew they would;
They “blanky-ed” for joy as we knew they would.
The sea was hell and the shore was hell,
With mine, entanglement, shrapnel and shell,
But they stormed the heights as Australians should,
And they fought and they died as we knew they would.
Knew they would—
Knew they would;
They fought and they died as we knew they would.
From the southern hills and the city lanes,
From the sandwaste lone and the Blacksoil Plains;
The youngest and strongest of England’s brood!—
They’ll win for the South as we knew they would.
Knew they would—
Knew they would;
They’ll win for the South as we knew they would.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Principal's Office
Now as I get to school I hear the late bell ringing,
runnning through the halls, I hear the glee club singing,
and as I get to the office I can hardly speak,
cause it's the third late pass that I got this week,
so to my first class I run and don't walk,
all I hear is my sneakers and the scratching of chalk,
and as I get to the room I hear the teacher say,
Mr. Young I'm very happy you could join us today,
I try to sit down so I can take some notes,
but I can't read what the kind next to me wrote,
and if that wasn't enough to make my morning complete,
as I try to get up, I find this gum on my seat,
so with the seat stuck to me, I raised my hand,
and said, exscuse me but can I go to the bathroom, maam?
the teacher got upset, and she screamed out no,
it's off the principal's office you go,
Verse 2:
12 o'clock comes with mass hysteria,
everybody rushes down to the cafeteria,
picked up my tray to have Thursday's lunch,
and as I tried the apple sauce, I heard it crunch,
I'm running up the stairs with my front tooth broken,
the nurse just laughed, and said you must be joking,
I looked up at her with a smile on my face,
no joke 'cause my front tooth is out of place,
so I walked to school with ice on my lip,
the nurse's late pass like a gun on my hip,
my books are real heavey, I'm walking, I'm dragging,
ain't no school lunch next week, I'm brown-bagging it,
forget class, I'm a shoot some ball,
with the late pass I got no trouble at all,
but then the nurse walks up and says what do you know,
it's office to the prinicipal's office you go
recess
Verse 3:
passing notes is my favorite pass time,
I can't wait to find a girl to pass mine to,
to express my feelings,
give me a week B, and the girl' be dealing,
now one young lady was looking at me,
I said hi my name is Marvin, known as Young MC,
but then the ball rang, and the teacher came in,
and that's when the game of passin notes would begin,
I wrote the first note, told her she was fine,
and I hoped that the two of us could spend some time,
she wrote me back and told me you're fine too,
I'd love to go on a date and spend some time with you,
so then I sat there reeling, and looking at the ceiling,
words can't express the way that I was feeling,
then I though to myself, the sure way to get her,
is to write another note, oh yes, a love letter,
when I finished the note, it was ready to pass,
the teacher took it, and read it right in front of the class,
she read it word-by-word and line-by-line,
and everybody who was laughing was a friend of mine,
even then my girl was laughing, and it was too late,
for me to write another note 'cause there would be no date,
the teacher looked at me, and I said I know,
it's off to the principal's office I go,
yo, you think this is bad, wait til I get my report card
song performed by by Young MC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Remember When
Remember when I was young and so were you
And time stood still and love was all we knew
You were the first, so was I
We made love and then you cried
Remember when
Remember when we vowed the vows
and walked the walk
Gave our hearts, made the start, it was hard
We lived and learned, life threw curves
There was joy, there was hurt
Remember when
Remember when old ones died and new were born
And life was changed, disassembled, rearranged
We came together, fell apart
And broke each other's hearts
Remember when
Remember when the sound of little feet
was the music
We danced to week to week
Brought back the love, we found trust
Vowed we'd never give it up
Remember when
Remember when thirty seemed so old
Now lookin' back, it's just a steppin' stone
To where we are,
where we've been
Said we'd do it all again
Remember when
Remember when we said when we turned gray
When the children grow up and move away
We won't be sad, we'll be glad
For all the life we've had
And we'll remember when
Remember when
Remember when
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forget Everything You Thought You Knew
Forget everything you thought you knew.
Forget it all.
Wipe it clean.
An absent mind till the end of time.
No more pain, let it fade.
Today is not yesterday.
Forget everything you thought you knew.
Forget it all.
Memories erased.
Scars healed.
Such a sad face.
Smile and turn it all around.
Such a sweet sound.
The heart racing.
Forget everything you thought you knew.
Forget it all.
Tear down that wall.
Make it crumble.
Make it fall.
Be careful not to stumble.
When all is lost something new can always be found.
Don't be scared for you will not drowned.
Forget everything you thought you knew.
Forget it all.
Start moving forward.
Faster and faster.
Marching upon the sands of time.
Your life defined by your every movement,
your words spoken.
So symbolic.
Meanings behind meanings.
Metaphorically speaking.
This is the way, please enjoy your stay.
Forget everything you thought you knew.
Forget all.
Passing by with a disguise.
A change for the better.
Here my unwritten letter.
Crumbled and flying into the sky.
Don't ask why Just Forget everything you thought you knew.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rose That Grew From Concrete (credits to Tupac)
The Rose that grew from concrete
Still beautiful in every form
Its stem is strong and sturdy
Although some petals have been torn
The petals could be tears
As it struggled to get through
The fight was rough and fierce
The weight was something new
For no other rose
Had ever gone through this road
It was given a path less traveled
It was given a tremendous load
But the rose began to grow
To everybody’s surprise
Nobody ever thought
From the concrete it would rise
Through the concrete it continued
Getting roughed up as it grew
Gaining valuable experience
Learning things it never knew
Its perseverance led to strength
As it broke through the cracks
It knew it had come this far
Why bother to look back
But the dues paid to get here
Are sometimes to be admired
It shows the character and heart
And the strength of its desire
After fighting for so long
It finally reached the light of day
It was then it knew
It didn’t want it any other way
For all of the characteristics of this rose
Have led it to persevere
The journey was dark and troublesome
But the effort was sincere
Along the way there were moments
What its mind was full of doubt
Times it had to dig deep
If it ever wanted to sprout
Now in full blossom
The rose looks back at its struggle
It beams bright with pride
For overcoming its troubles
The rose that grew from concrete
Powerful and pure
Beautiful yet rugged
After everything endured
The rose that grew from concrete
Certainly one of a kind
Love growing in the heart
Memories etched in the mind
The rose that grew from concrete
At last standing in peace
Forever living in glory
As the battle has now ceased
poem by Jose Chavez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't Let Me Die in China, Lord!
I had a fright the other night,
I dreamt that I was ill,
The Angels fluttered round my bed,
They said: 'Now you be still! '
My heart beat like a pounding drum,
The pain was like a sword,
I had one thought, and only one:
'Don’t let me die in China, Lord! '
The vision would not let me be,
I saw the future clear,
The landlord breaking down the door
To find me lying there.
'The Lao Wai’s gone, not paid the rent! '
He’d say in pu tong hua,
'We’d better call the embassy
They’ll send around a car.'
The embassy refused the car,
They didn’t want to show,
'He must belong to someone else,
He isn’t ours, you know! '
The neighbours filed in through the door
To look the last on me,
And clear the flat of anything
Not quite nailed down, you see.
'He looks all right, now that he’s dead, '
One mother told her son,
'Perhaps we should have talked to him.'
'- a little late now, Mum!
They say he studied pu tong hua
But never got it sussed,
We’ll have to make the funeral
As if he’s one of us.'
So later on that day they brought
The baskets full of flowers,
The big round silvery disks that shone
While they drew straws for hours,
For who would wail and cry for me
As I had no-one near,
So two wai po’s in old black clothes
Said: 'Fifty kwai an hour! '
For fifty kwai they set their chant
And woke the neighborhood,
And no one said to keep it down,
The Chinese understood.
A funeral is a sacred thing
For Han or old Yang Wei,
They kept their vigil for three days,
Then said: 'Today’s the day! '
At four o’clock that morning
In the stilly dark, forlorn,
They set up all their crackers
To erupt before the dawn,
They woke up all the neighbours
Who came down to see who wept,
While other Lao Wai’s turned in bed,
Rolled over, cursed, and slept.
And then the band, it started up,
An old Han marching song,
The big bass drum beat out of time,
A little late for some;
A little early for all those
Who just had got to sleep,
I wasn’t quite the flavour of
The neighborhood that week.
At six o’clock they marched away
All following the hearse,
A wooden cart pulled by four men,
I thought: 'Could things be worse? '
They marched along the highway
Disregarding life and limb,
The band it played along the way
A revolution hymn.
Then I awoke, (the pain had gone) ,
A-tremble, in a sweat,
I wasn’t ready then, I knew,
For Buddha’s belly yet!
And so I raised my eyes on high
To plead, entreat, implore:
'If you would grant me just one wish:
Don’t let me die in China, Lord! '
21 May 2006
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fire In The Sky
All alone in a sleepless night
Passing time with a runaway moon
talkin' to myself
Wishing I was somewhere else
It's been too long since I held you girl
Twice a thousand miles
But my heart won't beat alone
I need the love I left behind
Hold back the dawn awhile
This will all work out
Don't let this dream die
There's a fire in the sky
It's like the light in your eyes
Thinkin' of you
And I won't give up till your in my arms
Never give up till what's lost is found
Won't give up on your sweet, sweet love again
Now the night is dark with diamonds
And I'm standing inside the rain
Giving up your love
Was the worst mistake I made
There's a sound I hear in the distance
Seems it's calling out my name
Well I'll pay most any price
I just hope I'm not too late
Turn back the clock awhile
Things will all work out
That's what the dream is all about
There's a fire in the sky
It's like the light in your eyes
Oh, it's true
That I won't give up till your in my arms
Never give up till what's lost is found
Won't give up on your sweet, sweet love
Turn back the clock awhile
Things will all work out
That's what the dream is all about
I see a fire in the sky
Just like the light in your eyes
Thinkin' of you
That I won't give up till your in my arms
Never give up till what's lost is found
Won't give up on your sweet, sweet love
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Of God he would not speak.
I thought that he'd believe
though of God he would not speak.
I thought with God he'd stand,
though he'd miss him every week.
I thought that God'd be real
to the man I learned to love.
I thought that he'd see reason
that there's a creator up above.
I thought I'd always knew.
I'd had my suspicions anyway.
I thought that knowledge beforehand
would've stopped truth from darkening my day.
The Heart Of The Matter
I got the call today, I didnt wanna hear
But I knew that it would come
An old, true friend of ours was talkin on the phone
She said youd found someone
And I thought of all the bad luck,
And the struggles we went through
And how I lost me and you lost you
What are these voices outside loves open door
Make us throw off our contentment
And beg for something more?
Im learning to live without you now
But I miss you sometimes
The more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought I knew, Im learning again
Ive been tryin to get down
To the heart of the matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think its about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you dont love me anymore
These times are so uncertain
Theres a yearning undefined
And people filled with rage
We all need a little tenderness
How can love survive in such a graceless age?
The trust and self-assurance that lead to happiness
Theyre the very things - we kill I guess
Pride and competition
Cannot fill these empty arms
And the work I put between us
You know it doesnt keep me warm
Im learning to live without you now
But I miss you, baby
And the more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought Id figured out
I have to learn again
Ive been trying to get down
To the heart of the matter
But everything changes
And my friends seem to scatter
But I think its about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you dont love me anymore
There are people in your life whove come and gone
They let you down you know they hurt your pride
You better put it all behind you baby; life goes on
You keep carryin that anger; itll eat you up inside, baby
Ive been trying to get down
To the heart of the matter
But my will gets weak
And my thought seem to scatter
But I think its about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you dont love me
Ive been tryin to get down
To the heart of the matter
Because the flesh will get weak
And the ashes will scatter
So Im thinkin about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you dont love me
Forgiveness
Forgiveness - baby
Forgiveness
Forgiveness
Forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, you dont love me anymore
Fade
song performed by by Don Henley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Losing Love
my mind is gone lost in ur love but you are gone so my love is lost for all eternity it seemed like for a while things was going good they would go great but with you out of the picture there is nothing but an empty space there my heart beat is goes slower then it will beat not more but thats okay sum times life is goes that way your love leads you to the right direction my love is leads me afar and far away and brought me down down all the way to the bottom ive lost out on everything and yet i cant complain bout it cuz thats what happens ur a (loser) u learn to start and re start everything i must refocus lifes energies on other things things that will not lead me to a destructive ending we are an ending yes to this sort of life i knew in this brief past many a week but no more any sort o negative ness from me must remain neutral must go back to neutrality and lonliness lik i never knew before must g back to being a(loser) i was never a winner so i shant sayin anything bad bout not winning but i shant go speakin anything ill of always closing so until that day when all good things can happen for me ill always be a loser...
poem by Dorian Suchelle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dead To The Living
Work while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.
IN the childhood of April, while purple woods
With the young year's blood in them smiled,
I passed through the lanes and the wakened fields,
And stood by the grave of the child.
And the pain awoke that is never dead
Though it sometimes sleeps, and again
It set its teeth in this heart of mine,
And fastened its claws in my brain:
For it seemed so hard that the little hands
And the little well-loved head
Should be out of reach of my living lips,
And be side by side with the dead--
Not side by side with us who had loved,
But with these who had never seen
The grace of the smile, the gold of the hair,
And the eyes of my baby-queen.
Yet with trees about where the brown birds build,
And with long green grass above,
She lies in the cold sweet breast of earth
Beyond the reach of our love;
Whatever befalls in the coarse loud world,
We know she will never wake.
When I thought of the sorrow she might have known,
I was almost glad for her sake. . . .
Tears might have tired those kiss-closed eyes,
Grief hardened the mouth I kissed;
I was almost glad that my dear was dead
Because of the pain she had missed.
Oh, if I could but have died a child
With a white child-soul like hers,
As pure as the wind-flowers down in the copse,
Where the soul of the spring's self stirs;
Or if I had only done with it all,
And might lie by her side unmoved!
I envied the very clods of earth
Their place near the child I loved!
And my soul rose up in revolt at life,
As I stood dry-eyed by her grave,
When sudden the grass of the churchyard sod
Rolled back like a green smooth wave;
The brown earth looked like the brown sea rocks,
The tombstones were white like spray,
And white like surf were the curling folds
Of the shrouds where the dead men lay;
For each in his place with his quiet face
I saw the dead lie low,
Who had worked and suffered and found life sad,
So many sad years ago.
Unchanged by time I saw them lie
As when first they were laid to rest,
The tired eyes closed, the sad lips still,
And the work-worn hands on the breast.
There were some who had found the green world so grey,
They had left it before their time,
And some were little ones like my dear,
And some had died in their prime;
And some were old, they had had their fill
Of bitter unfruitful hours,
And knew that none of them, none, had known
A flower of a hope like ours!
Through their shut eyelids the dead looked up,
And without a voice they said:
'We lived without hope, without hope we died,
And hopeless we lie here dead;
And death is better than life that draws
Pain in, as it draws in breath,
If life never dreams of a coming day
When life shall not envy death.
Through the dark of our hours and our times we lived,
Uncheered by a single ray
Of such hope as lightens the lives of you
Who are finding life hard to-day;
With our little lanterns of human love
We lighted our dark warm night--
But you in the chill of the dawn are set
With your face to the eastern light.
Freedom is waiting with hands held out
Till you tear the veil from her face--
And when once men have seen the light of her eyes,
And felt her divine embrace,
The light of the world will be risen indeed,
And will shine in the eyes of men,
And those who come after will find life fair,
And their lives worth living then!
Will you strive to the light in your loud rough world,
That these things may come to pass,
Or lie in the shadow beside the child,
And strive to the sun through the grass?'
'My world while I may,' I cried; 'but you
Whose lives were as dark as your grave?'
'We too are a part of the coming light,'
They called through the smooth green wave.
Their white shrouds gleamed as the flood of green
Rolled over and hid them from me--
Hid all but the little hands and the hair,
And the face that I always see.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Strange Kind Of Love
I once thought I had the love of God in my heart;
a feeling of oneness in which everyone is a part.
But as time went by and the days passed
that feeling of oneness did not really last.
I would search inside my heart to try and find
the love of God I thought had been left behind.
But as I looked eagerly there like a bloodhound
what I seemed to come across was less profound.
Then in the darkness of my mind I began to see a light;
It was coming and going, unsteady, to my inner sight.
The longer that I looked at it in wonder each day,
it seemed to speak to me without any words to say.
I would often marvel in awe how this could be
a spark of faith and hope from deep inside me.
So each day I would praise God in my heart with love
dedicating all action, words and thought to Him above.
The Love of God returned it seemed in some way
as a feeling of oneness swelled in my heart to play.
Life seemed sweet, almost as if too good to be true
and many things that were old appeared to be new.
I began also to know things which before went over my head
and to fathom the mysteries of what in books had been read.
It was in daily life experiences though that the truth shined through
as my mind was refined to witness what the Others taught and knew.
I would grasp and revel in subtle things which were lofty and divine
and then go about each day as if I was drunk on some kind of wine.
Everything all around seemed to be holy and possessed a hidden light,
encompassing all creatures and objects, that was revealed to my sight.
poem by George Krokos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Box
On the top shelf in the closet,
In the workshop where he spent his extra time
Was a dust wooden box _that I had never noticed till that time
And we set on the table and carefully, we opened up the top
And stared into the memory_daddy kept inside the box
There was a letter from mamma, when she went out to reno
To help her sister out in 62
And a flower from hawaii, when they went on vacation
It was the first time that my daddy ever flew
And the pocket knife I gave__to him on fathers day
Years ago, I thought it had been lost
We all thought his heart was made from solid rock
But that was long before we found the box
I guess we always knew it_but I love you was hard for him to say
Some men show it easy and some just never seem to find the way
But that night I began__to see the softer side of some I had lost
I saw the love he kept inside the first time_we opened up the box
There was a picture that was taken,when he and mom were dating
Standing by his 1944,
And the faded leather bible, he got when he was baptised
I guess no one understood him like the lord
And the poem that he had written, about his wife and children
The tender words he spoke were quite a shock
We all thought his heart was made of solid rock
But that was long before we found the box
Yes that was long before we found the box
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love and Age
I play'd with you 'mid cowslips blowing,
When I was six and you were four;
When garlands weaving, flower-balls throwing,
Were pleasures soon to please no more.
Through groves and meads, o'er grass and heather,
With little playmates, to and fro,
We wander'd hand in hand together;
But that was sixty years ago.
You grew a lovely roseate maiden,
And still our early love was strong;
Still with no care our days were laden,
They glided joyously along;
And I did love you very dearly,
How dearly words want power to show;
I thought your heart was touch'd as nearly;
But that was fifty years ago.
Then other lovers came around you,
Your beauty grew from year to year,
And many a splendid circle found you
The centre of its glimmering sphere.
I saw you then, first vows forsaking,
On rank and wealth your hand bestow;
O, then I thought my heart was breaking!--
But that was forty years ago.
And I lived on, to wed another:
No cause she gave me to repine;
And when I heard you were a mother,
I did not wish the children mine.
My own young flock, in fair progression,
Made up a pleasant Christmas row:
My joy in them was past expression;
But that was thirty years ago.
You grew a matron plump and comely,
You dwelt in fashion's brightest blaze;
My earthly lot was far more homely;
But I too had my festal days.
No merrier eyes have ever glisten'd
Around the hearth-stone's wintry glow,
Than when my youngest child was christen'd;
But that was twenty years ago.
Time pass'd. My eldest girl was married,
And I am now a grandsire gray;
One pet of four years old I've carried
Among the wild-flower'd meads to play.
In our old fields of childish pleasure,
Where now, as then, the cowslips blow,
She fills her basket's ample measure;
And that is not ten years ago.
But though first love's impassion'd blindness
Has pass'd away in colder light,
I still have thought of you with kindness,
And shall do, till our last good-night.
The ever-rolling silent hours
Will bring a time we shall not know,
When our young days of gathering flowers
Will be an hundred years ago.
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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