No Other can reduce
982
No Other can reduce
Our mortal Consequence
Like the remembering it be nought
A Period from hence
But Contemplation for
Contemporaneous Nought
Our Single Competition
Jehovah's Estimate.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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The Spider holds a Silver Ball
The spider holds a Silver Ball
In unperceived Hands--
And dancing softly to Himself
His Yarn of Pearl--unwinds--
He plies from Nought to Nought--
In unsubstantial Trade--
Supplants our Tapestries with His--
In half the period--
An Hour to rear supreme
His Continents of Light--
Then dangle from the Housewife's Broom--
His Boundaries--forgot--
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Life's Mighty Flood
WHAT is wrought in the forge of the living and life--
All things are nought! Ho! fill me the bowl,
For nought is the gear of the world and the strife!
One passion has quickened the heart and the soul,
The Beloved's presence alone they have sought--
Love at least exists; yet if Love were not,
Heart and soul would sink to the common lot--
All things are nought!
Like an empty cup is the fate of each,
That each must fill from Life's mighty flood;
Nought thy toil, though to Paradise gate thou reach,
If Another has filled up thy cup with blood;
Neither shade from the sweet-fruited trees could be bought
By thy praying-oh Cypress of Truth, dost not see
That Sidreh and Tuba were nought, and to thee
All then were nought!
The span of thy life is as five little days,
Brief hours and swift in this halting-place;
Rest softly, ah rest! while the Shadow delays,
For Time's self is nought and the dial's face.
On the lip of Oblivion we linger, and short
Is the way from the Lip to the Mouth where we pass
While the moment is thine, fill, oh Saki, the glass
Ere all is nought!
Consider the rose that breaks into flower,
Neither repines though she fade and die--
The powers of the world endure for an hour,
But nought shall remain of their majesty.
Be not too sure of your crown, you who thought
That virtue was easy and recompense yours;
From the monastery to the wine-tavern doors
The way is nought
What though I, too, have tasted the salt of my tears,
Though I, too, have burnt in the fires of grief,
Shall I cry aloud to unheeding ears?
Mourn and be silent! nought brings relief.
Thou, Hafiz, art praised for the songs thou hast wrought,
But bearing a stained or an honoured name,
The lovers of wine shall make light of thy fame--
All things are nought!
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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The Number Nought
I really think that people ought
Value more the number 'nought'
Without this number much would differ
No algebra, no calculator
No internet and no PCs
A maths developed differently
'Nought' is the number that enables
Us to solve all those equations.
poem by David Keig
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To One False In Love
O false as fair
I am forgotten, then, by thee!
Or haply on another shine
The eyes that once looked into mine
Pretence of love — all faithlessly
Out! nought I care
For such as can true love betray!
Love on, forsworn, your little day:
Ye are nought to me.
On Late Acquired Wealth (From The Greek)
Poor in my youth, and in life's later scenes
Rich to no end, I curse my natal hour,
Who nought enjoy'd while young, denied the means;
And nought when old enjoy'd, denied the power.
poem by William Cowper
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The Convivial Book - Can The Koran From Eternity Be?
'Tis worth not a thought!
Can the Koran a creation, then, be?
Of that, I know nought!
Yet that the book of all books it must be,
I believe, as a Mussulman ought.
That from Eternity wine, though, must be,
I ever have thought;
That 'twas ordain'd, ere the Angels, to be,
As a truth may be taught.
Drinkers, however these matters may be,
Gaze on God's face, fearing nought.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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This Life Which Seems So Fair
This Life, which seems so fair,
Is like a bubble blown up in the air
By sporting children's breath,
Who chase it everywhere
And strive who can most motion it bequeath.
And though it sometimes seem of its own might
Like to an eye of gold to be fixed there,
And firm to hover in that empty height,
That only is because it is so light.
But in that pomp it doth not long appear;
For when 'tis most admired, in a thought,
Because it erst was nought, it turns to nought.
poem by William Henry Drummond
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Rate This Poem
I’d love to be inside the head
of the Phantom Oner as she
strikes again… with one deadly One,
cuts the previous ten right down
to a grovelling 5.5…
‘that’ll teach you, you big-headed smug,
with your groupies and brown-nosers; all your pissy posse…
THIS IS NOT A POEM…’
and with one bound – I’m free!
No longer need I try to write
a poem rich in metaphor like some jewelled scabbard,
declaring sparkling wealth and power;
distracting from the question,
is the sharp sword, of discrimination,
still there, sharp, inside?
or a poem so full of music’s sound,
it sings itself into the mind
like leprechaun with emerald guile,
in the ear of sleeping child…
or, any other sort of poem –
I’m free … now I know I can
please everyone, someone, no-one.. on a scale
from nought to ten or should that be
from ten to nought?
I can now just be; be my one self…
write from the heart;
remembering that all others have a heart…so,
thanks, O noble one…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Without this—there is nought
655
Without this—there is nought—
All other Riches be
As is the Twitter of a Bird—
Heard opposite the Sea—
I could not care—to gain
A lesser than the Whole—
For did not this include themself—
As Seams—include the Ball?
I wished a way might be
My Heart to subdivide—
'Twould magnify—the Gratitude—
And not reduce—the Gold—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Adulthood is the ever-shrinking period between childhood and old age. It is the apparent aim of modern industrial societies to reduce this period to a minimum.
quote by Thomas Szasz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Holdfast
I threatened to observe the strict decree
Of my deare God with all my power and might:
But I was told by one, `It could not be;
Yet I might trust in God to be my light.'
`Then will I trust,' said I, `in Him alone.'
`Nay, ev'n to trust in Him, was also His:
We must confesse that nothing is our own.'
`Then I confesse that He my succour is.'
`But to have nought is ours, not to confesse
That we have nought.' I stood amaz'd at this,
Much troubled, till I heard a friend expresse
That all things were more ours by being His:
What Adam had, and forfeited for all,
Christ keepeth now, Who cannot fail or fall.
poem by George Herbert
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November
There is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.
Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.
Cold wind where your voice was,
Tears, tears where my heart was,
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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Overhead the Tree-Tops Meet
Overhead the tree-tops meet,
Flowers and grass spring 'neath one's feet;
There was nought above me, and nought below,
My childhood had not learned to know:
For what are the voices of birds
—Ay, and of beasts,—but words—our words,
Only so much more sweet?
The knowledge of that with my life begun!
But I had so near made out the sun,
And counted your stars, the Seven and One,
Like the fingers of my hand:
Nay, I could all but understand
Wherefore through heaven the white moon ranges,
And just when out of her soft fifty changes
No unfamiliar face might overlook me—
Suddenly God took me!
poem by Robert Browning
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Think of the Slave
Think of the slave, in your hours of glee,
Ye who are treading life's flowery way;
Nought but its rankling thorns has he,
Nought but the gloom of its wintry day.
Think of the slave, in your hours of woe!—
What are your sorrows, to that he bears?
Quenching the light of his bosom's glow,
With a life-long stain of gushing tears.
Think of the slave, in your hours of prayer,
When worldly thoughts in your hearts are dim,
Offer your thanks for the bliss ye share,
But pray for a brighter lot for him.
poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sonnet IX
LOng-while I sought to what I might compare
those powrefull eies, which lighte[n] my dark spright,
yet find I nought on earth to which I dare
resemble th'ymage of their goodly light.
Not to the Sun: for they doo shine by night;
nor to the Moone: for they are changed neuer;
nor to the Starres: for they haue purer sight;
nor to the fire: for they consume not euer;
Nor to the lightning: for they still persuer;
nor to the Diamond: for they are more tender;
nor vnto Christall: for nought may them seuer;
nor vnto glasse: such basenesse mought offend her;
Then to the Maker selfe they likest be,
whose light doth lighten all that here we see.
poem by Edmund Spenser
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Love's Pledge - from Mechthild of Magdeburg
Two lovers in an inner room withdrawn,
and speaking much of love, as one to one;
and yet their speech so ardent in its truth,
not sound but rather silence seems to reign.
These silent lovers are the soul and God;
their silence, prayer, which brought them, joins them, here;
they talk of all that lovers ever speak,
and plight their troth as lovers ever swear:
'Yet nought I have to give you, but myself;
and that I give, and beg of you to take;
and nought I ask of you, but that yourself
you give to me in truth for my soul's sake...'
No lovers' pledge more common, nor more true;
no love more constant; nor more holy vow.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Jehovah
Consider the lilies of the field,
Solomon dressed in royal robes
Has not the worth of them.
Consider the lilies of the field.
He takes after each and every need.
Leave all your cares behind,
Seek him and you will find
Your father loves you so.
Consider the creatures of the air.
For all of the diamonds in all the earth
Have not the wealth of them.
Consider the creatures of the air.
Jehovah loves them with tender hand.
He knows your every care,
His touch is always there
To see you through the night.
And jehovah I love you so,
And jesus I want you to know,
All youve done for me to set me free,
Ill never let you go.
And jehovah I love you so,
And jesus I want you to know,
All youve done for me to set me free,
Ill never let you go.
Consider the lilies of the field.
For how much more does he love his own,
If yaweh cares for them.
Consider the creatures of the air.
He takes after each and every need.
If we ask him for bread,
Will he give us a stone?
Jehovah loves his own.
And jehovah I love you so,
And jesus I want you to know,
All youve done for me to set me free,
Ill never let you go.
And jehovah I love you so,
And jesus I want you to know,
All youve done for me to set me free,
Ill never let you go.
And jehovah I love you so,
And jesus I want you to know,
All youve done for me to set me free,
Ill never let you go.
And jehovah I love you so,
And jesus I want you to know,
All youve done for me to set me free,
Ill never let you go.
And jehovah I love you so,
And jesus I want you to know,
All youve done for me to set me free,
Ill never let you go.
And jehovah I love you so,
And jesus I want you to know,
All youve done for me to set me free,
Ill never let you go.
And jehovah I love you so,
And jesus I want you to know,
All youve done for me to set me free,
Ill never let you go.
(neer let you go....)
(never go....)
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Missing title : skey: LA BELLA BONA
I.
I cannot tell, who loves the skeleton
Of a poor marmoset; nought but boan, boan;
Give me a nakednesse, with her cloath's on.
II.
Such, whose white-sattin upper coat of skin,
Cut upon velvet rich incarnadin,
Has yet a body (and of flesh) within.
III.
Sure, it is meant good husbandry in men,
Who do incorporate with aery leane,
T' repair their sides, and get their ribb agen.
IV.
Hard hap unto that huntsman, that decrees
Fat joys for all his swet, when as he sees,
After his 'say, nought but his keepers fees.
V.
Then, Love, I beg, when next thou tak'st thy bow,
Thy angry shafts, and dost heart-chasing go,
Passe RASCALL DEARE, strike me the largest doe.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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Car Salesman
Nought per cent finance, what a con!
Nought per cent finance, you’re having me on
That's the offer that brought me in here,
Buying this car is going to cost me dear.
Let's look at the figures just once more,
Prevent you heading straight for the door.
Perhaps we can do some kind of deal
To greatly change the way you feel.
Tell me what you want and we'll do our best
To find the car that passes your test.
You can choose the colour and the engine size
As long as you see I’m not telling you lies!
Air-con you can have, or alloy wheels,
Though that's the type a car thief steals!
A silver one is nice, or what about blue?
It’ll match your eyes and really suit you.
They taught me what to say to you in selling school
Making you believe I'm playing by the rule
So come on, buy the car, that’s now not then,
Cos I’ve heard you really want it for your daughter, Jen!
poem by Lindsey Priest
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