It Is Finished!
i've been to the place
where dead men weep.
where spirits go
that cannot sleep.
where near is far
and far is deep...
and i kept the silence!
i've tasted the wine
of human blood.
known the flower
still in bud.
danced in the moonlight,
bathed in the mud...
and kissed the fertile wind!
i've cried the tears
of oppressed and broken.
tended the fires
well past smoking.
kept the faith
past point of hoping...
now words have failed!
i've born the cross
God dared not deem.
slept with the wolves,
heard unborn screams.
touched angel's wings
in human dreams...
washed the feet of the unwanted!
'it is finished'!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Broken Angel
i smile a fake smile
so no one can actually see
that my pain is over whelming
that i could never leave
if any one were to ask,
i would have to say
i'm a broken angel
or i could fly away
no one has ever noticed
my eyes are always filled with tears
my heart is always breaking
and i don't want to be here
i don't think i'm an angel
for i don't believe in it
but in some ways i'm a BROKEN angel
hoping to fly away
i sperad my wings
i try to fly
but my hope
has already died
i let tears fall
i yell to someone
i reach out my hand
i run down the hall
no one chases after me
no one screams my name
i'll try to fly
if my wings don't burn
i'm a broken angel
i WANT to fly away
this broken angel
has almost died
i can't go to heaven
i've sinned too much
i can't go to hell
i've sinned not enough
i'm a broken angel
i need to fly
THIS broken angel
has pretty much died
poem by Joan Johnson
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Afraid To Sleep
We slept in this room together but now youre gone
And its so quiet I turn the tv on
We lived in this room together we painted the walls
Now time doesnt stand still
It crawls
And Im afraid to sleep
Cuz if I do I dream of you
And dreams are always deep
On the pillow where I weep
I never realized how much I was in love with you
Until you started sleeping with someone new
Last night I dreamed again and you were there
You kissed my face you touched my hair
And Im afraid to sleep
Cuz if I do I dream of you
And dreams are always deep
On the pillow where I weep
Lying alone in the darkness with a memory in my head
Theres a big hole where my heart is
And a lonely feeling rollin round my bed
And Im afraid to sleep
Cuz if I do I dream of you
Im afraid to sleep
Cuz if I do I dream of you
And dreams are always deep
On the pillow where I weep
On the pillow where I weep
Im afraid to sleep.
song performed by by Dido
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Listening
They walk in dreams
nightmarishly
spirits of nameless faces
staring without eyes.
The screams:
of a child
on whom you poured boiling water.
The screams:
of a girl made to wear only flesh, because
she ran away with a priest.
The screams:
of a wipped woman
who tasted the laughing moonlight.
Death makes a big hole
in a spooky silence!
Are you listening?
poem by Satish Verma
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The Angel with the Broken Wings
Angel fallen from sky,
Watching as life passed her by,
Filled with the worlds horrid things,
The angel with broken wings.
No one helps, no one prays,
For the girl who shows the black and grays,
Why does all the bad cling?
To the angel with the broken wings.
Sometimes she flies in her dreams,
But that doesn’t stop her screams,
When will they stop the sting?
For the angel with the broken wings.
One day this angel will fly above,
And fill the world with lots of love,
One day she’ll help to heal the dings,
In another angel with the broken wings.
poem by Belle Potter
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The Return
The grass was gray with the moonlit dew,
The stones were white as I came through;
I came down the path by the thirteen yews,
Through the blocks of shade that the moonlight hews.
And when I came to the high lych-gate
I waited awhile where the corpses wait;
Then I came down the road where the moonlight lay
Like the fallen ghost of the light of day.
The bats shrieked high in their zigzag flight,
The owls' spread wings were quiet and white,
The wind and the poplar gave sigh for sigh,
And all about were the rustling shy
Little live creatures that love the night -
Little wild creatures timid and free.
I passed, and they were not afraid of me.
It was over the meadow and down the lane
The way to come to my house again:
Through the wood where the lovers talk,
And the ghosts, they say, get leave to walk.
I wore the clothes that we all must wear,
And no one saw me walking there,
No one saw my pale feet pass
By my garden path to my garden grass.
My garden was hung with the veil of spring -
Plum-tree and pear-tree blossoming;
It lay in the moon's cold sheet of light
In garlands and silence, wondrous and white
As a dead bride decked for her burying.
Then I saw the face of my house
Held close in the arms of the blossomed boughs:
I leaned my face to the window bright
To feel if the heart of my house beat right.
The firelight hung it with fitful gold;
It was warm as the house of the dead is cold.
I saw the settles, the candles tall,
The black-faced presses against the wall,
Polished beechwood and shining brass,
The gleam of china, the glitter of glass,
All the little things that were home to me -
Everything as it used to be.
Then I said, 'The fire of life still burns,
And I have returned whence none returns:
I will warm my hands where the fire is lit,
I will warm my heart in the heart of it!'
So I called aloud to the one within:
'Open, open, and let me in!
Let me in to the fire and the light -
It is very cold out here in the night!'
There was never a stir or an answering breath -
Only a silence as deep as death.
Then I beat on the window, and called, and cried.
No one heard me, and none replied.
The golden silence lay warm and deep,
And I wept as the dead, forgotten, weep;
And there was no one to hear or see -
To comfort me, to have pity on me.
But deep in the silence something stirred -
Something that had not seen or heard -
And two drew near to the window-pane,
Kissed in the moonlight and kissed again,
And looked, through my face, to the moon-shroud, spread
Over the garlanded garden bed;
And--'How ghostly the moonlight is!' she said.
Back through the garden, the wood, the lane,
I came to mine own place again.
I wore the garments we all must wear,
And no one saw me walking there.
No one heard my thin feet pass
Through the white of the stones and the gray of the grass,
Along the path where the moonlight hews
Slabs of shadow for thirteen yews.
In the hollow where drifted dreams lie deep
It is good to sleep: it was good to sleep:
But my bed has grown cold with the drip of the dew,
And I cannot sleep as I used to do.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Nevermore
Unspoken words are the thirst in your voice sheen
And missing love is a place in your heart green
I scream when my tearing soul becomes dim
We're no more inside of our universe rim
You're no more my blessing along the life shore
And I heard the raven saying: 'Nevermore! '
Broken idols in midnight taper will weep
Love with rusty traces of tears will sleep
I'll keep all silence in the absence of words
Killing in time the dewy wings of hate swords
I eat my walking dreams and close my deep wound
As sky eats its clouds and earth closes grave ground
poem by Marieta Maglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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History Will Teach Us Nothing
If we seek solace in the prisons of the distant past
Security in human systems were told will always always last
Emotions are the sail and blind faith is the mast
Without a breath of real freedom were getting nowhere fast
If God is dead and an actor plays his part
His words of fear will find their way to a place in your heart
Without the voice of reason every faith is its own curse
Without freedom from the past things can only get worse
Sooner or later just like the world first day
Sooner or later we learn to throw the past away
Sooner or later just like the world first day
Sooner or later we learn to throw the past away
Sooner or later we learn to throw the past away
History will teach us nothing
History will teach us nothing
Our written history is a catalogue of crime
The sordid and the powerful, the architects of time
The mother of invention, the oppression of the mild
The constant fear of scarcity, aggression as its child
Sooner or later
Sooner or later
Sooner or later
Sooner or later
Convince an enemy, convince him that hes wrong
Is to win a bloodless battle where victory is long
A simple act of faith
In reason over might
To blow up his children will only prove him right
History will teach us nothing
Sooner or later the world first day
Sooner or later we learn to throw the past away
Sooner or later the world first day
Sooner or later we learn to throw the past away
Sooner or later we learn to throw the past away
History will teach us nothing
History will teach us nothing
Know you human rights
Be what you come here for
Know your human rights
Be what you come here for
Know your human rights
Be what you come here for
Know your human rights
Be what you come here for
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rain Falls
Desert ruins that lay to waste
with the smell and bitter taste
of death in the air
the screams of misery inside
from a blood red sky
left for those in despair
of those we felt die
A past full of unforgotten years
filled with genocide
as rain falls thousands of tears
remembering the souls that weep
of those that lay to sleep
now in thier resting place
As a mother holds her child
with sadness on her face
she longs for a past
of a time so long ago
where dreams were so vast
now she had to let go
as so many bleed
for the white man's greed
Spiritwind-2011
poem by Spiritwind Wood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Human
Come on, baby, dry your eyes
Wipe your tears
Never like to see you cry
Wont you please forgive me ?
I wouldnt ever try to hurt you
I just needed someone to hold me
To fill the void while you were gone
To fill this space of emptiness
Im only human
Of flesh and blood Im made
Human
Born to make mistakes
So many nights I longed to hold you
So many times I looked and saw your face
Nothing could change the way I feel
No-one else could ever take your place
Im only human
Of flesh and blood Im made
Human
Born to make mistakes
I am just a man
Please forgive me
The tears I cry arent tears of pain
Theyre only to hide my guilt and shame
I forgive you now I ask the same of you
While we were apart I was human too
Im only human
Of flesh and blood Im made
I am just a man
Human
Born to make mistakes
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Building Bridges
I came from another place
I was born under a different star and
That is what I believe- When the rain fell, I did not grow,
In the sunlight I could not see what was ahead of me,
That sun was so far away- although far away from everyone,
I know and I believe- Building bridges in my sleep
Trying to get to a place where
I would grow and my thoughts would be in control-
Walking pathways in my wakefulness uphill and down
Trying to find a place where I would fit,
As would a piece in a jigsaw puzzle or
Perhaps just to be heard, or understood?
Here alone I can hear my thoughts as they speak to me,
Almost like far away voices echoing within the back of my mind-
My soul was snatched away at birth or I was born under a different star-
To where I wish I could return-
If I could fly with broken wings, I would,
If I could cry tears of joy, not sorrow, I would-
I am an angry spirit building ladders out of time-
That time I feel is running out-
Picking roses in vain trying to find a purpose here-
Building bridges when I sleep,
Where I would cross to another place in time,
I continue to walk pathways in my wakefulness
Until I find a place where I could grow with the flowers and
Find beauty and a purpose in this world
Because I don't know where that star into which I was born is to be-
Perhaps it was a shooting star traveling across the universe-
I got lost along the way and landed here -
A rare bird whose wings have broken and cannot fly-
So I will continue to build those bridges in my sleep and
Walk uphill and downward in my wakefulness-
Until my thoughts are in control and when my thoughts are in control, and
I become a flower or better yet a tree, just happy to be growing
Amongst nature- flowers and trees don't weep or feel the pain
Of being threatened or lost-I shall grow until I touch the sky and
Meet face to face with the sun which shall shine hope upon me and
Everybody knows that trees and flowers haven't a care and
Just stand looking strikingly beautiful- they have no wounded spirits-
They are loved by everyone and because they have no souls,
They are never misunderstood…
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beautiful Madness
Beautiful madness is mine.
When promises bathed in red wine
Are born again
As the fruit of our vine.
Words that in water were written
As fate hissed
We kissed
And were bitten.
Now motionless
I sit in a chair
Potionless
Craving magic to share.
While my love moves through
The christmas fair
With beautiful madness I stare.
Was it all just a pocket of dreams?
Insanity and silent screams.
As words of love
Are now resigned
To greeting cards in dusty drawer
My boken heart you will find
Lies in shards upon her floor.
Now as I hang on my cross
Blood is starting to seep.
Like a sniper
That viper of death
Is planning to put me asleep.
That love born in a sunrise
Has died in her cold eyes.
But beautiful madness
Has booked me a ride
As I board a grey train
To a slow suicide.
poem by Kevin East
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What Price Golgotha?
seer eyes burn with
prophetic words read
vision words sweep
forth in sleep soul fed
dream spaces echo
divine fountain head
heart surges witnesses
flowing images bled
blood of all spilled human
suffering fills vast lake red
blood cries out from ground
to God spoken testament said
murder of Christ at Golgotha each
shed droplet screams at deathbed
judge this sacrifice this moment
against each soul resurrect all dead
judgement judgement screams
all blood spilt where murder lead
all sin all crime all evil is judged
against all guilty soul’s in dread
those born again in Christ have sin
washed clean with Christ are wed
their name is written in sacred book
of life angelic marked upon forehead
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Dear In The Headlines
Still in moonlight the scarlet sings
silver and black like piano keys
somewhere an angel gets her wings
call her for supper
and other things
still the the moonlight the scarlet sings
candy wrappers voices
pinned to the screens
somewhere an angel gets her wings
caught in the arms of a speakeasy
still in the moonlight the scarlet sings
bathing in the flashbulbs
and the legalese
somewhere an angel gets her wings
breathless and smoking chambers sings
of pages of magazines
stillin moonlight the scarlet sings
somewhere an angel gets her wings
poem by Patricia Schooff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hurt And Destruction Of An Angel
An angel in disguise
hidden behind broken pride
of all these human lies
an angel without wings
long ago cut off
fallen from heaven
never to go back
an angel far from home
made to walk this world alone
an angel consumed by fears
as tears roll down her face
she feels like a disgrace
an angel wanting to go home
but caught in this hell
can only ask one thing
'God what did i do to deserve this,
why and i being punished all i did was love'
an angel lying dead
blood covers her pure white dress
god must have seen what he did for it rained non stop
an angel gone to hell
never to be scene again
her creator lost what he loved
cause he did not let her love
poem by Jennifer Panner
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The Spirit Of Jfk
Let the word go forth
Let the word go forth
From this time and place
Good evening my fellow citizens
Im speaking tonight in a spirit of hope
In the human spirit, the human spirit
Lee harvey oswald
Oh, no
Jack ruby
Oswald and ruby
Oh, no
To friend and foe alike
Oswald and ruby
My god, have you heard
The president is dead
Oswald and ruby
They do not imprison spirits
Oswald and ruby
They do not imprison spirits
The president is dead
Well, I know where that 3rd shot came from
The grassy knoll
Behind the picket fence
The energy, the faith, the function
Which we bring to this endeavor
Well fight our country and all who serve it
And the glow from that fire
Can truly light the world
History will record the facts
I didnt shoot anybody
Lee harvey oswald
Why should anybody serve?
Why should anybody serve?
Jack harvey oswald
We have learned in times past
The spirit of one moment or place
Can be gone in the next
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Watch You Sleeping
This song appears on three albums, and was first released on the flower that shattered the stone album, and has also been released on the stonehaven sunrise and the john denver collection - take
Ome, country roads albums.
I watch you sleeping little angel face
And on behalf of the human race
Welcome to this crazy place
I watch you sleeping innocent and free
I dont know what your dreams may be
You dont know what you mean to me
You have never heard thunder
You have never seen the rain
But you can still feel the wonder
You can still feel the pain
And sometimes you look at me
So wise and so sure
I could easily believe you have been here before
I watch you sleeping little angel face
And on behalf of the human race
Welcome to this crazy place
I wont be here forever
But as long as Im around
I promise you I will never let you down
To help make a world you can feel worthy of
I will teach you to fly on the wings of my love
I watch you sleeping brave and unaware
You dont know yet so you dont care
I want you to know its hard out there
I watch you sleeping little angel face
And on behalf of the human race
Welcome to this crazy place
I watch you sleeping
I watch you sleeping
I watch you sleeping
I watch you sleeping
I watch you sleeping
I watch you sleeping
Words and music by mike batt
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Planted A Flower
I planted me a flower
Though my friends say a weed
In my garden from a forgotten seed.
So I planted it deep
And around it I hoed
So someday my flower would grow.
But my flower never came
From the sunshine or the rain
That GOD placed above its head.
And so my friends would just laugh
Every time that they would pass
My garden, my plant and I.
Gardeners were them all
As though they have been called
To bring beauty upon our sight.
And a gardener wasn't I
Just a poet in disguise
And for that reason I sat and cried.
More care to my plant I gave
And more affection to it I showed.
While praying one day my flower would grow.
And my friends would just laugh at me
When they saw me on my knees
And to my flower when they heard me speak.
To ignorance they did blame
Its a weed they would exclaim
Then they would walk away.
For a madman I must be
Trying to create a flower out of a weed
Then I would bow my head to weep.
And every night that I went to bed
I dreamt of a rainbow in my head
Which was my flower I planted with my own hands.
And every morning when I awoke
I ran to my garden, but I was torn
For my flower was still unborn.
And I could hear my friends laugh at me
Hidden behind an old oak tree
And I could see them shake their heads and walk away.
But then came one magic morning
When in my head my dreams were forming
While in my garden, my dream, had awoke.
I awoke, to gasps and jeers
I arose, to shouts and cheers
Then in my garden, I walked in bitterness and fear.
Then I saw a rainbow with a halo
I saw my friends with a child's glow
And then I heard the wind, as she softly spoke to me.
You had faith in a weed,
A weed, had faith in you.
And nature, had faith in you two.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Nimue
I had clean forgotten all, her face who had caused my trouble.
Gone was she as a cloud, as a bird which passed in the wind, as a glittering stream--borne bubble,
As a shadow set by a ship on the sea, where the sail looks down on its double.
I had laid her face to the wall, on the shelf where my fancies sleep.
I had laid my pain in its grave, in its rose--leaf passionless grave, with the things I had dared not keep.
I had left it there. I had dried my tears. I had said, ``Ah, why should I weep?''
I will not be fooled by her, by the spell of her fair child's face.
What is its meaning to me, who have seen, who have known, who have loved what miracle forms of grace?
What are its innocent wiles, its smiles, its idle sweet girlishness?
I will not love without love. I despise the ways of a fool.
Let me prevail as of old, as lover, as lord, as king, or have done with Love's tyrant rule.
I was born to command, not serve, not obey. No boy am I in Love's school.
I have fled to the fields, the plains, the desert places of rest,
To the forest's infinite smile, where the cushat calls from the trees and the yaffle has lined her nest,
To the purple hills with the spray of the sea, when the wind blows loud from the west.
I have done with her love and her, the wine--draughts of human pleasure.
The voice of nature is best, the cradle song of the trees which is hymned to Time's stateliest measure,
As once a boy in the woods I heard it and held it an exquisite treasure.
I had clean forgotten all. I had sung to the indolent hills
Songs of joy without grief, since grief is of human things the shadow of human ills.
I sang aloud in my pride of song to the chime of the answering rills.
And, behold, the whole world heard, the dull mad manridden Earth.
And they cried, ``A prophet hath risen, a sage with the heart of a child, a bard of no human birth,
A soul that hath known nor pain, nor sin, a singer of infinite mirth.''
And she too heard it and came. And she knew it was I grown wise.
And she stood from the rest apart, and I watched her with pitying scorn, and then with a sad surprise,
And last with a new sweet passionate joy, for I saw there were tears in her eyes.
And she came and sat at my feet, as in days ere our grief began.
And I saw her a woman grown. And I was a prophet no more, but a desolate voiceless man.
And I clasped her fast in my arms in joy and kissed her tears as they ran.
And I shall not be fooled by her, though her face is fair as a rose.
And I shall not live without love, though the world should forget my songs and I should forget its woes,
And the purple hills should forget the sea and the spray when the west wind blows.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What is Hope?
Never was a larger word
than Hope;
all dreams reside there;
In the Future,
resides our desires laid bare;
our Now wants to go there
our Past wants to be washed away
or celebrate there-
inside Hope's Cathedral.
Hope is the Promised Land.
both Means
and Destination.
But, what good does Hope do
if it goes away
after
what we hope for comes true?
Is there not another dream then
that Hope must then fulfill?
But, here we ask
what then is Hope itself?
Is it my Expectation Confident
that what I want
will come true?
Is it merely that Leap of Faith
that all that currently ails
will dissipate
in my hoped-for future state?
If all is risked on this single word
then we must know exactly
what it is;
for me
what is Hope's meaning for me?
Well the Expectation idea
that Hope is the confidence that
want I want will come true
is too much for me.
I don't have that kind of confidence
do you?
Nothing for me is ever for sure
not even Hope
itself
because, as we all know, Hope can
give way to Black Despair where
by definition Hope has gone
and fled.
Since no one can read our future states
we bob and weave between
hoping for hope
but fearing despair.
I rather like the Leap of Faith Idea
where we all make
the assumption that actions now,
will in future state,
pay off
and Hope will fulfill the expectations
we have placed there.
But note,
it is all too true that Hope
then is fully based
on Leaps of Faith
and then we ask
faith in what?
If all of Human-Kinds Hopes
distill from Human-Kinds Dreams
then upon what faith did cavemen
dream of a better world?
Upon a pagan God,
restless shadows on the cave wall,
incantations said and made?
But the pointed point here is
that our ancestors did have
blind faith in something which
caused them to feel that dreams
they dreamed
had some Hope of becoming Real
and that Hope
had to involve for them an enormous leap
beyond what they could see
in their lives then.
So Leaping then is what we do
even where there is no evidence
in reality that our dreams
however fervently held
will ever actually come true.
So Hope we see
is bound up with
Mystery
and Leapings
into Voids
with nothing more
than the belief
that in dreaming
it
we can make it come true-
be brought into reality.
Rather like writing a poem.
Humm, the moral here:
Nothing can be done
unless one
has the dream
and Hope
to make it so
and by hoping bring it
into reality.
This seems to be
the true History
of Human-Kind
at its best
and
at its
worse.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rejected
Alas ! I have lost my God,
My beautiful God Apollo.
Wherever his footsteps trod
My feet were wont to follow.
But Oh ! it fell out one day
My soul was so heavy with weeping,
That I laid me down by the way ;
And he left me while I was sleeping.
And my soul awoke in the night,
And I bowed my ear for his fluting,
And I heard but the breath of the flight
Of wings and the night-birds hooting.
And night drank all her cup,
And I went to the shrine in the hollow,
And the voice of my cry went up :
' Apollo ! Apollo ! Apollo ! '
But he never came to the gate,
And the sun was hid in a mist,
And there came one walking late,
And I knew it was Christ,
He took my soul and bound it
With cords of iron wire,
Seven times round He wound it
With the cords of my desire.
The cords of my desire,
While my desire slept, ,
Were seven bands of wire
To bind my soul that wept.
And He hid my soul at last
In a place of stones and (ears,
Where the hours like days went past
And the days went by like years.
And after many days
That which had slept awoke,
And desire burnt in a blaze,
And my soul went up in the smoke.
And we crept away from the place
And would not look behind,
And the angel that hides his face
Was crouched on the neck of the wind.
And I went to the shrine in the hollow
Where the lutes and the flutes were playing,
And cried : ' I am come, Apollo,
Back to thy shrine, from my straying.'
But he would have none of my soul
That was stained with blood and with tears,
That had lain in the earth like a mole,
In the place of great stones and fears.
And now I am lost in the mist
Of the things that can never be,
For I will have none of Christ
And Apollo will none of me.
poem by Lord Alfred Douglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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