Is It Best?
O mother who sips sweetened liquors!
Look down at the child on your breast;
Think, think of the rough path before him,
And ask yourself then, 'Is it best?
Shall I foster a love for this poison,
Instil the thirst into his veins?
In the fountain he seeks at my bosom
Sow the rank seeds of death, grief, and pains?
'Shall I give him the thirst of the drunkard,
Bequeath him the weapons of crime?
Can we look for a glass of pure water
Dipped up from a fountain of slime?
Can we look for brave men, strong and noble,
Where the parents drink poison for food?
When the body and soul are corrupted,
Can we look for the works to be good?'
Oh! think of the future before him!
There are perils you cannot remove.
Yet this, the great highway of sorrow-
Oh! guard him from this with your love.
There are rough paths enough in the future
For the feet of the child on your breast;
And lower the glass you are lifting,
And ask yourself, then, 'Is it best?'
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Related quotes
In The Cup
There is grief in the cup!
I saw a proud mother set wine on the board;
The eyes of her son sparkled bright as she poured
The ruddy stream into the glass in his hand.
The cup was of silver; the lady was grand
In her satins and laces; her proud heart was glad
In the love of her fair, noble son; but, oh! sad,
Oh! so sad ere a year had passed by,
And the soft light had gone from her beautiful eye.
For the boy that she loved, with a love strong as death,
In the chill hours of morn with a drunkard's foul breath
And a drunkard's fierce oath, reeled and staggered his way
To his home, a dark blot on the face of the day.
There is shame in the cup!
The tempter said, 'Drink,' and a fair maiden quaffed
Till her cheeks glowed the hue of the dangerous draught.
The voice of the tempter spoke low in her ear
Words that once would have started the quick, angry tear,
But wine blunts the conscience, and wine dulls the brain,
She listened and smiled, and he whispered again.
He lifted the goblet: 'Once more,' he said, 'drink,'
And the soul of the maiden was lost in the brink.
There is death in the cup!
A man in God's image, strong, noble, and grand,
With talents that crowned him a prince of the land,
Sipped the ruddy red wine!-sipped it lightly at first,
Until from its chains broke the demon of thirst.
And thirst became master, and man became slave,
And he ended his life in the drunkard's poor grave.
Wealth, fame, talents, beauty, and life swallowed up,
Grief, shame, death, destruction, are all in the cup.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Give This Child What She Needs
Give this child what she needs
Love
Give this child what she needs
Shelter
Give this child what she needs
Prayers
Give this child what she needs
Some food and water
Give this child what she needs
Good parents
Give this child what she needs
Good manors
Give this child what she needs
A smoke free home
Give this child what she needs
Peace and happiness
Give this child what she needs
To know God
Give this child what she needs
Your guidance
Give this child what she needs
Clothes
Give this child what she needs
Your support
Give this child what she needs
Some family time
Give this child what she needs
A nice bath every day
Give this child what she needs
Some discipline
Give this child what she needs
A warm bed to sleep on
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Today... 'The Fountain
Sweet Fountain flowing from David's royal line
in which I can wash this wretched soul of mine.
It removes the deepest stains of sin away
and presents me spotless on the Judgement Day.
'Come to me all you that thirst and drink, ' You said.
'Come and quench your thirst at the Fountain head.'
For the living water that pours out from Me
can cleanse you from all of your iniquity.
So I came to that living fountain of heaven
to be cleansed and all my sins were forgiven.
For there God wiped all of the tears from my eyes
when I stood before the cross of Jesus Christ.
Deep sweet Fountain flowing from heaven above
immersing the world in God's wonderful love.
Lord Jesus Christ You poured out Yourself in death.
When there upon the cross You breathed Your last breath.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Poison! Poison!
Poison I breathe, poison I eat,
And poison poison I do drink,
Poison are my thoughts, poison are my acts,
Poison are my sleeps, poison are my dreams,
My blood is poison, poison is my flesh,
And poison poison are my bones.
Wherever I move
I envenom my fellow beings,
And enlarge my kingdom,
This is how my life goes on,
Living in the world: all poison poison.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Drink From This Cup, Thirst Not In Afterlife
Will you drink freely my friend,
of the spirits, wine, or the ale?
Until you fall upon measured,
large drink stomach bloated.
Senseless in drunkard’s bowl,
like the dead beached whale.
Will you be in cups late into the night?
Thirsty traveller lingers at such a sight.
How soon, you thirst again, your ever bitter dry,
for aching head, it is hard, to gaze up into the sky.
There is a cup, of pure water, a cup of pure life,
all who drink from this cup, will thirst not, in afterlife.
Thus we chose
waters of intoxication.
In this world or
waters of life in the next.
One kills body soul
one prepares for resurrection.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Procrastination
Poison is my blood,
Poison is my body,
Poison are my thoughts,
They hum around my mind like flies,
Poison is my food,
Hate, jealousy and pride
Are the plants of poison;
They grow in my fertile land,
As wild weeds grow unattended,
I make venomous
Everyone whom I touch.
My existence is contagious,
Why should I be afraid of poison,
Procrastinate in front of the potion,
Now I must have a drink,
For poison will cause no impairment to me.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The Child Had No Trust
The child was given a fruit
But the child did not eat
The child was given a shelter
But the child did not sleep
The child was given love
But the child did not take
The child was shown a path
But the child did not go
The child was promised a future
But the child did not believe
The fruit could be poisoned
The shelter could be a tomb
The sleep could be a nightmare
The love could be abused
The path could be an abyss
And the future smelled of the past
The child had no trust
Can anyone make the child believe
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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LOVE IS A FOUNTAIN'....inspired by Afzal Shauq's Poem 'BEGGING HEART' / Jessica R
Love is when
you keep coming back
to the overflowing fountain
of your lover because,
no matter how much
you come to him,
your thirst cannot
be quenched and
you constantly want
him more and more.
It is not to fulfill
your lustful needs;
that is not love.
This is why you
must keep the
water pure until
the well of commitment
has spilled over
into marriage.
When sex contaminates
the fresh spring,
the flow will forever
be tainted.
The stream will continue
but will never satisfy
like it would if you
took only small sips now
and waited to drink of his body
until the time is right.
However, you must
keep the sips limited
to moist kisses
because if you don’t,
they may lead
to hearty gulps
that can drown
your honorable intentions.
********
© Jessica R.
_____________________
COMMENTS OF JESSICA R
_____________________
Inspired by: Afzal Shauq’s “Begging Heart” My beliefs are that sex and anything more than kissing should be avoided at all costs until marriage because sex complicates relationships and almost always leads to heartbreak.
posted: 2009-05-05 10: 16: 29 views since [2009-05-05 10: 16: 29]: 13
poem by Afzal Shauq
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Y... Food for the soul
Food for the body
I know of men, who do not have enough,
Lacking food and drink, their life is rough
Day in, day out they struggle for food
There is no time for any other good
Food for the ego
I know of men who have enough food and drink
So they have time for something else to think
Their egos are hungry for money, power and fame
Getting more, being restless, an endless game
Food for the soul
I know of men who are contented with how they live
They focus on soul and never cease to give
To give love and support, perform acts randomly kind
They are the ones who have at any time peace of mind
poem by Aufie Zophy
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Dedication Poem
Outcast from her home in Syria
In the lonely, dreary wild;
Heavy hearted, sorrow stricken,
Sat a mother and her child.
There was not a voice to cheer her
Not a soul to share her fate;
She was weary, he was fainting,
And life seemed so desolate.
Far away in sunny Egypt
Was lone Hagar's native land;
Where the Nile in kingly bounty
Scatters bread with gracious hand.
In the tents of princely Abram
She for years had found a home;
Till the stern decree of Sarah
Sent her forth the wild to roam.
Hour by hour she journeyed onward
From the shelter of their tent,
Till her footsteps slowly faltered
And the water all was spent;
Then she veiled her face in sorrow,
Feared her child would die of thirst
Till her eyes with tears so holden
Saw a sparkling fountain burst.
Oh! how happy was that mother,
What a soothing of her pain;
When she saw her child reviving,
Life rejoicing through each vein
Does not life repeat this story,
Tell it over day by day ?
Of the fountains of refreshment
Ever springing by our way.
Here is one by which we gather,
On this bright and happy day,
Just to bask beside a fountain
Making gladder life's highway.
Bringing unto hearts now aged
Who have borne life's burdens long,
Such a gift of love and mercy
As deserves our sweetest song.
Such a gift that even heaven
May rejoice with us below,
If the pure and holy angels
Join us in our joy and woe.
May the memory of the giver
In this home where age may rest,
Float like fragrance through the ages,
Ever blessing, ever blest. .
When the gates of pearl are opened
May we there this friend behold,
Drink with him from living fountains,
Walk with him the streets of gold.
When life's shattered cords of music
Shall again be sweetly sung;
Then our hearts with life immortal,
Shall be young, forever young.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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Drink it all down
Drink your poison
Sip it all down
Beat your wife
Molest your child
Rape the woman next door
So drink your poison
Drink it all down
Smash the bottle
Against the bedroom wall
Smack the whore in your bed
Kill her then feel guilty
The very next day
When you wake up
And see the blood
So drink the poison
That brings doubt and insanity
To the mind
Thats right
Drink your poison
Drink it all down
-Janelle Morehart-
poem by Janelle Morehart
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Child Of The Future
What can I give you child of the future,
Child of the Universe grand?
Only my wisdom, calmness and peace,
Through years of making a stand.
To you who hold the world for us all.
Your beauty to shine through the land.
With such warmth and devotion and love for this life,
I offer to you just my hand.
Oh child of the future how soundly you sleep.
I wonder what your life will bring.
May it only bring goodness and beauty and light.
Nothing but wonderful things.
I watch as you sleep and know there is hope,
That the future is all in your hands.
You're the child of the future, the child of our dreams.
The one to bring life to our lands.
What can I give you, you wonderful child,
As you rest at peace in your bed.
I can pass on my knowledge, my wisdom
And learning, and place it all inside your head.
Oh child of the future let love overthrow,
Evil with all that it means.
You're the next generation, I want you to know,
You're the product of all of our dreams.
So rest in your small bed and know as you sleep,
I'm standing beside you so strong.
As you take your path, be it ever so steep,
I'm walking with you all along.
poem by Rosi Caswell
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My Nation
My nation is Satan’s shadow
So my life is full of sorrow.
They quench love’s thirst of the good ones by poison
They are extremely cruel and lack vision.
They do all the bad works in God’s name
The curse of the good ones follows them.
They have gone astray there’s no doubt about it
Cause they oppress the good ones to meet their greed.
poem by Asif Andalib
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Living Water
For all men who hunger and thirst, let Jesus, in your life be first,
He will from a fountain higher, come fill our heart’s every desire.
The Lord will cause living water, to flow from within you forever,
When you truly come to know, Jesus Christ, eternal waters flow.
Through the Holy Spirit my friend, His living water will never end.
In everyone who Christ redeems, from inside flow living streams,
When you thirst for righteousness, Christ will fill your emptiness.
Not with a trickle or just a drop, but with streams that won’t stop.
All who thirst, Christ has willed, from His fountain shall be filled.
Filled through The Spirit above, sent to men through God’s love.
The well which feeds the spring, is regulated by the Eternal King,
And the well will never run dry, for its source is The Lord on High.
Rivers of water shall fill the life, of all who come to Jesus Christ.
They’ll hunger and thirst no more, when they know Christ as Lord.
God fills all our remaining days, with ever flowing joy and praise.
Being His example to all around, as the Love of Christ abounds,
A love from Christ that has its start, in every truly believing heart.
It comes only as you believe, and the Spirit of Truth you receive,
This living water He gives you, Christ wants to give to others too,
Using the living water of your life, to draw others to Jesus Christ.
Licia Sonnets 27
The crystal stream wherein my love did swim,
Melted in tears as partners of my woe;
Her shine was such as did the fountain dim,
The pearl-like fountain whiter than the snow;
Then like perfume, resolvéd with a heat,
The fountain smoked, as if it thought to burn;
A wonder strange to see the cold so great,
And yet the fountain into smoke to turn.
I searched the cause, and found it to be this:
She touched the water, and it burned with love.
Now by her means it purebased hath that bliss,
Which all diseases quickly can remove.
Then if by you these streams thus blesse'd be,
Sweet, grant me love, and be not worse to me.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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A Glass Of Wine
'What's in a glass of wine?'
There, set the glass where I can look within.
Now listen to me, friend, while I begin
And tell you what I see-
What I behold with my far-reaching eyes,
And what I know to be
Below the laughing bubbles that arise
Within this glass of wine.
There is a little spirit, night and day,
That cries one word, for ever and alway:
That single word is 'More!'
And whoso drinks a glass of wine, drinks him:
You fill the goblet full unto the brim,
And strive to silence him.
Glass after glass you drain to quench his thirst,
Each glass contains a spirit like the first;
And all their voices cry
Until they shriek and clamor, howl and rave,
And shout 'More!' noisily,
Till welcome death prepares the drunkard's grave,
And stills the imps that rave.
That see I in the wine:
And tears so many that I cannot guess;
And all these drops are labelled with 'Distress.'
I know you cannot see.
And at the bottom are the dregs of shame:
Oh! it is plain to me.
And there are woes too terrible to name:
Now drink your glass of wine.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Poison Heart
No one ever thought this one would survive
Helpless child, gonna walk a drum beat behind
Lock you in a dream, never let you go
Never let you laugh or smile, not you.
Well, I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart
I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart.
Making friends with a homeless torn up man
He just kind of smiles, it really shakes me up.
There's danger on every corner but I'm okay
Walking down the street trying to forget yesterday.
Well, I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart.
I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart,
a poison heart, a poison heart, a poison heart ... yeah!
You know that life really takes its toll
And a poet's gut reaction is to search his very soul
So much damn confusion before my eyes,
But nothing seems to phase me and this one still survives.
I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart.
I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart,
Well, I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart.
a poison heart, a poison heart, a poison heart.
a poison heart, a poison heart, a poison heart.
song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A bottle of wolf’s poison
At dusk little Martha walks
pass the back of the old house
that is build of heaped blue Jacob stone
and her older sister who has to watch her
is a distance away in the orchard
where she is catching small gnats
with shouts of joy.
The sun glows orange red
on the horizon and the rays hits
a brown bottle that protrudes
from one of the cracks of the Jacob rocks
and at a distance
it looks to three-year-old Martha
like her mother’s kitchen knife
and quickly she walks closer
on her little feet
and she tries to take it, but it is stuck tight.
With a long stick
she digs the bottle out,
bites it open with her small teeth
and there’s pink liquid
that flows down her throat.
Still she wonders
what this bottle is doing here
and goes round the corner
into the kitchen
where she finds her mother
and gives the bottle to her.
Her mother turns white from fright
as it is wolf’s poison
and deadly strong
and her shout is so loud
that three of Martha’s older brothers
run in from the outside.
“Go and milk one of the cows
and bring some more milk, hurry”
is said to Pieter
and she takes a bucket of milk
from the pantry
and pour some in a glass for Martha to drink
while Pieter runs
as fast as he can to the stable.
“Drink sis drink, ” Martha is begged
and glass after glass is given to her
until she starts to vomit
and still they beg her to drink
while they pour some more glasses of milk
and the pink poison
comes out with the vomit
and Pieter brings some more
fresh hot milk
and pours the jug out
and Martha shakes and cries
and they beg her to drink
and still more is poured into glasses
and she drinks
until she vomits the entire poison out.
[Reference: Wolf’s poison is strychnine.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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My Water Fountain
I drank glasses of water,
I drank water from office coolers.
Many people drank from water fountains.
I thought my thirst I could slake,
If I drank water from a cool lake.
Then I would would drink cold water,
From gushing waterfalls.
But much to my surprise,
I thirsted for all of Earth's water.
I couldn't fathom my inner self,
About slaking my thirst insatiable.
I couldn't come to grips about,
The deep waters of my life.
Was it my body? Or was it my soul?
Then I very quickly learned,
That this thirst for water that was burning in me,
Was my unending thirst for love
That everybody yearns for.
And everybody needs.
In quantities of glasses, coolers, waterfalls,
Lakes, oceans and seas.
poem by Vera Sidhwa
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Thieves Of The Future
gather togehter for the rough of the
future and sake the hands of the decescenadnce
for we hold not the single stick of branches
but the root of deliverance, the children
inheret from their ancestor
open plam create something that mingle
the present into the ultimate future of
what to take, the day comes the other day
with mourn and sadness tangle every spirit of
existence, hopping that tomorrow past
with out laughter of joy, in the womb of the
angels
persude the guradian of the future for sucking
the breast of a child, notnhing breath than a tomb
of madness of love embeeded inn the essence of
lasting life
poem by Antonio Liao
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