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Patience Taught By Nature

'O DREARY life,' we cry, ' O dreary life ! '
And still the generations of the birds
Sing through our sighing, and the flocks and herds
Serenely live while we are keeping strife
With Heaven's true purpose in us, as a knife
Against which we may struggle ! Ocean girds
Unslackened the dry land, savannah-swards
Unweary sweep, hills watch unworn, and rife
Meek leaves drop year]y from the forest-trees
To show, above, the unwasted stars that pass
In their old glory: O thou God of old,
Grant me some smaller grace than comes to these !--
But so much patience as a blade of grass
Grows by, contented through the heat and cold.

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rainy Day

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Entering The Hall

a lousy day
something is dreary
life is damp and disturbingly wet,
as i enter the hall
where two old men are talking
deaf perhaps
they are shouting about
how life can be so dragging
when i go near them
they look at me with disdain
envious perhaps
about how i have not aged much
because i am smiling

inside it is damp and wet and dreary
but outside i show something warm
the sun and the gentle wind

i am hurt but i never utter the word
of your common complaint.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hope

Hope was but a timid friend;
She sat without the grated den,
Watching how my fate would tend,
Even as selfish-hearted men.

She was cruel in her fear;
Through the bars, one dreary day,
I looked out to see her there,
And she turned her face away!

Like a false guard, false watch keeping,
Still, in strife, she whispered peace;
She would sing while I was weeping;
If I listened, she would cease.

False she was, and unrelenting;
When my last joys strewed the ground,
Even Sorrow saw, repenting,
Those sad relics scattered round;

Hope, whose whisper would have given
Balm to all my frenzied pain,
Stretched her wings, and soared to heaven,
Went, and ne'er returned again!

poem by Emily Jane Brontë
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The ultimate sin...

Or soul is black when it doesn't sing true,
How many lies must be told before they become true?
Your soul only exists because god gave you one,
And he shall take it and mould it, tell you where you belong...

And if you wish to live a better and worthwhile life,
Then pray to god to take away all of your strife.
A life without god is deemed to be hell,
Looking at the world today, how can we tell?

Let me be, let me breathe, let me live, let me die,
Reveal who I am and please tell me why.
Am I only here because god gave me life?
Yet his cosmic plan seems filled with strife...

We are all the masters of our own true goal,
So we are all the god that rules our soul.
Some choose to be prick's in a troublesome way,
For good and evil live with us each day...

If god really is the one who own's my soul,
Then what the hell is his ultimate goal?
For living my life with all of my kin,
Just seems to be my one true sin...

Spread the love... The peace will follow...

God has become the most popular scapegoat for man... Lets stop blaming the magic man that lives in the sky and realise... We're the one's that fucked it up... And we're the ones who can fix it...

poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Hope

Hope Was but a timid friend;
She sat without the grated den,
Watching how my fate would tend,
Even as selfish-hearted men.

She was cruel in her fear;
Through the bars one dreary day,
I looked out to see her there,
And she turned her face away!

Like a false guard, false watch keeping,
Still, in strife, she whispered peace;
She would sing while I was weeping;
If I listened, she would cease.

False she was, and unrelenting;
When my last joys strewed the ground,
Even Sorrow saw, repenting,
Those sad relics scattered round;

Hope, whose whisper would have given
Balm to all my frenzied pain,
Stretched her wings, and soared to heaven,
Went, and ne'er returned again!

poem by Emily Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To Anna

For thee, the Sibyl in the future sees
A lovely cottage hidden by the trees;---
Round its white porch are trained the clustering vines;
Beneath its roof perpetual summer shines---
The heart's sweet summer that shall take its dyes
From the clear sunshine of thine azure eyes.
The nightingale shall sing thee to thy dreams;
The lark shall wake thee with morn's earliest beams;
The flocks and herds shall own thy gentle care;
All living things thy kind regard shall share.
And as thou wanderest midst the lovely scene,
The flowers shall claim thee for their fairy queen.
And here, where Nature wears her loveliest spell,
Shalt thou, her fairest work, serenely dwell;
Far from the world's "ignoble strife" and care,
With some loved spirit "for thy minister,"
Thy life like some fair stream shall glide away,
And thou shalt sleep, to wake in the Eternal Day.

poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Rules

be true to who you are
never quit without a fight
keep your heart out of sight
you'll be doing all right

stand proud
stand strong
don't let any body tell you
that your wrong
and if you do this
you'll sing a new song.

speak up
speak out
you'll need to shout
to be heard above
the roaring crowd.

love life
live life
it might cut like a knife
but sooner or later
you'll be above the strife.

believe in something
hats what you need to do
before you know it
you'll be as good as new.

and most importantly
live free
all of this is mixture you'll need
to live life perfectly

poem by Faith Franklin
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The Answer

When life seems lost and oh, so empty
And all that's left is hopelessness
When even Love turns cold and dreary
And ever elusive is Happiness

There is a way, in faith believe
That He will always hear your prayer
The peace for sure you will receive
Christ Jesus is the only Answer.

He is the Way, the Truth, the Life
You will be made a new creation
He is our victory in strife
In Him alone is there Salvation!

-
'I have come that they might have life....and have it abundantly.'
(John 10: 10)

Copyright Cynthia Buhain-Baello
October 10,2011

poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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The Creed Of The Wood

A WHIFF of forest scent,
Balsam and fern,
Won from dreary mood
My heart's return,
From its discontent,
Joy's run-away,
To the sweet, wise wood
And the laughing day.
Simple as dew and gleam
Is the creed of the wood!
The Beautiful gave us life,
And life is good.
Be the world but a dream,
Let the world go shod
With peace, not strife,
For the Dreamer is God.

poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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A Christmas Carol

It chanced upon the merry merry Christmas eve,
I went sighing past the church across the moorland dreary-
'Oh! never sin and want and woe this earth will leave,
And the bells but mock the wailing round, they sing so cheery.
How long, O Lord! how long before Thou come again?
Still in cellar, and in garret, and on moorland dreary
The orphans moan, and widows weep, and poor men toil in vain,
Till earth is sick of hope deferred, though Christmas bells be cheery.'

Then arose a joyous clamour from the wild-fowl on the mere,
Beneath the stars, across the snow, like clear bells ringing,
And a voice within cried-'Listen!-Christmas carols even here!
Though thou be dumb, yet o'er their work the stars and snows are singing.
Blind! I live, I love, I reign; and all the nations through
With the thunder of my judgments even now are ringing.
Do thou fulfil thy work but as yon wild-fowl do,
Thou wilt heed no less the wailing, yet hear through it angels singing.'

Eversley, 1849.

poem by Charles Kingsley
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The Squatter's Baccy Famine

In blackest gloom he cursed his lot;
His breath was one long weary sigh;
His brows were gathered in a knot
That only baccy could untie.
His oldest pipe was scraped out clean;
The deuce a puff was left him there;
A hollow sucking sound of air
Was all he got his lips between.
He only said, “My life is dreary.
The Baccy's done,” he said.
He said, “I am aweary, aweary;
By Jove, I'm nearly dead.”

The chimney-piece he searched in vain,
Into each pocket plunged his fist;
His cheek was blanched with weary pain,
His mouth awry for want of twist.
He idled with his baccy-knife;
He had no care for daily bread:—
A single stick of Negro-head
Would be to him the staff of life.
He only said, “My life is dreary.
The Baccy's done,” he said.
He said, “I am aweary, aweary
I'd most as soon be dead.”

Books had no power to mend his grief;
The magazines could tempt no more;
“Cut Gold-Leaf” was the only leaf
That he had cared to ponder o'er.
From chair to sofa sad he swings,
And then from sofa back to chair;
But in the depth of his despair
Can catch no “bird's-eye” view of things.
And still he said, “My life is dreary.
No Baccy, boys,” he said.
He said, “I am aweary, aweary;
I'd just as soon be dead.”

His meals go by he knows not how;
No taste in flesh, or fowl, or fish;
There's not a dish could tempt him now,
Except a cake of Caven-dish.
His life is but a weary drag;
He cannot choose but curse and swear,

And thrust his fingers through his hair,
All shaggy in the want of shag.
And still he said, “My life is dreary,
No Baccy, boys,” he said.
He said, “I am aweary, aweary;
I'd rather far be dead.”

To him one end of old cheroot
Were sweetest root that ever grew.
No honey were due substitute
For “Our Superior Honey-Dew.”
One little fig of Latakia
Would buy all fruits of Paradise;
“Prince Alfred's Mixture” fetch a price
Above both Prince and Galatea.
Sudden he said, “No more be dreary!
The dray has come!” he said.
He said, “I'll smoke till I am weary—
And then, I'll go to bed.”

poem by James Brunton Stephens
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Hurrah! It's Spring

Many birds are harboring in the trees,
Hurrah! It must be Spring.
Their presence is highly gratifying
As the song birds begin to sing.
I have endured the long, dreary Winter,
And cherish the Spring season anew,
Excited to bid a cordial welcome
To the unclouded sky of light blue.
And so with each passing day,
It seems I encounter a new surprise,
As picturesque wonders of Spring
Are manifested before my eyes.

poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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What dreary soul... [Ce suflet trist...]

What dreary soul have given me
My folks, I can't explain,
How come it's filled up to the brim
With restlessness and pain?

What dreary soul, without an aim,
Made of a lifeless clay,
Which after many lies and tricks
Still hopes to find its way?

How come it doesn't feel the curse,
The blows that make it bow?
O, waves of the majestic sea,
Please, take me with you now!

poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Trip To Nowhere

I was born in a backstreet
Where people live a dirty life
Of course it was different most of the time
But it was not my fault
A life in hell
I saw it every morning
Dreamsndesires
Cant hide myself anymore
I tried to live in heaven
But this dream did not come true
I tried to live in heaven
Next time Ill try to knock on this door again
Ive been hunting
Day and night
Oh, Ive been losing
Please, hold me tight
Why am I here now
And what can I do
You tell me youre sorry
You know it aint true
I tried to live in heaven
But this dream did not come true
I tried to live in heaven
Next time Ill try to knock on this door again
You know what I mean
cause when you throw in the cards
Life goes on and on
Youre on a trip to nowhere
Youd better reach for the stars
Life goes on and on and on and on again
cause when you throw in the cards
Life goes on and on
Youre on a trip to nowhere
Youd better reach for the stars
Life goes on and on and on and on again
Now Im taking my chances
Everyday, everynight
You know what Im talking about, man
No more backstreet life
A life in hell
I saw it every morning
Dreams and desires
Dont hide myself anymore
I tried to live in heaven
But this dream did not come true
I tried to live in heaven
Next time Ill try to knock on this door again
You know what I mean
cause when you throw in the cards
Life goes on and on
Youre on a trip to nowhere
Youd better reach for the stars
Life goes on and on and on and on again
cause when you throw in the cards
Life goes on and on
Youre on a trip to nowhere
Youd better reach for the stars
Life goes on and on and on and on again
I made it out of this hell you know what I mean
I tried to live in heaven
But this dream did not come true
I tried to live in heaven
Next time Ill try to knock on this door again
You know what I mean
cause when you throw in the cards
Life goes on and on
Youre on a trip to nowhere
Youd better reach for the stars
Life goes on and on and on and on again
cause when you throw in the cards
Life goes on and on
Youre on a trip to nowhere
Youd better reach for the stars
Life goes on and on and on and on again
cause when you throw in the cards...

song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Under The Sun

It used to rain
Dreary and grey
Most every day
But not any more
We come out of our homes
We lie down
Under the cloud that never comes
We roll in the radiation
And we make love
Under the sun
Under the sun
The polar ice is melting
suits me fine
We go to the beach on the northern line
We watch the sea
Comin up the street
Under the sun
Under the sun
It used to rain
Dreary and grey
Most every day
But not any more
We take off our clothes
And have some fun
Under the sun
Under the sun

song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: A ' Xian's Life

When problems seize a man upon the earth,
The cause is devils, nature, God or I;
The Christian has a dreary life since birth;
In all his strife, Jesus remains near-by!

Why blame someone for things going amiss?
A Christian life is full of misery;
Just don’t worry for stands besides Jesus;
“Take up your cross and follow me, ” said He!

The devils tempt a Christian soul often;
But Jesus assures him victory always;
The shadow of the Cross leads to Heaven;
A baptized soul on earth has sure D-days!

The Son of God, Jesus, forsakes me not;
Thro’ bloody price on Cross- That’s how I’ as bought!

Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-6-2006

poem by John Celes
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Bouquets of Flowers Colors Flow

Times are going here and there
With lots of summer everywhere
I felt bad in the winter's high
With not much to live for or die
Feelings dreary are always gone
Into the blank and darkness done
Never a right place to be living
Nothing to have no sunshine giving

Bouquets of flowers - colors flow
Dawn of summers moods spin
The rising skies where clouds go
Everything of day is coming in
You and I with pleasures’ need
Everything yesterday didn't show
Colors green and growing freed
No more frost or winter's snow
What is real is all now in here
In the fragrance sweet morn air
And a garden so full of its joy
The winter's mood not to deploy

Feelings dreary are always gone
Into the blank and darkness done
Never a right place to be living
Nothing to have no sunshine giving

Times are going here and there
With lots of summer everywhere
I felt bad in the winter's high
With not much to live for or die

Feelings dreary are always gone
Into the blank and darkness done
Never a right place to be living
Nothing to have no sunshine giving

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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The Schoolboy

I love to rise in a summer morn,
When the birds sing on every tree;
The distant huntsman winds his horn,
And the skylark sings with me:
O what sweet company!

But to go to school in a summer morn,—
O it drives all joy away!
Under a cruel eye outworn,
The little ones spend the day
In sighing and dismay.

Ah then at times I drooping sit,
And spend many an anxious hour;
Nor in my book can I take delight,
Nor sit in learning’s bower,
Worn through with the dreary shower.

How can the bird that is born for joy
Sit in a cage and sing?
How can a child, when fears annoy,
But droop his tender wing,
And forget his youthful spring?

O father and mother, if buds are nipped,
And blossoms blown away;
And if the tender plants are stripped
Of their joy in the springing day,
By sorrow and care’s dismay,—

How shall the summer arise in joy,
Or the summer fruits appear?
Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,
Or bless the mellowing year,
When the blasts of winter appear?

poem by William Blake from Songs of Experience (1794)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Easter Week

See the land, her Easter keeping,
Rises as her Maker rose.
Seeds, so long in darkness sleeping,
Burst at last from winter snows.
Earth with heaven above rejoices;
Fields and gardens hail the spring;
Shaughs and woodlands ring with voices,
While the wild birds build and sing.

You, to whom your Maker granted
Powers to those sweet birds unknown,
Use the craft by God implanted;
Use the reason not your own.
Here, while heaven and earth rejoices,
Each his Easter tribute bring-
Work of fingers, chant of voices,
Like the birds who build and sing.

poem by Charles Kingsley
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What makes life dreary is the want of a motive.

quote by George Eliot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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