Homage To Sextus Propertius - VI
When, when, and whenever death closes our eyelids,
Moving naked over Acheron
Upon the one raft, victor and conquered together,
Marius and Jugurtha together,
one tangle of shadows.
Caesar plots against India,
Tigris and Euphrates shall, from now on, flow at his bidding,
Tibet shall be full of Roman policemen,
The Parthians shall get used to our statuary
and acquire a Roman religion;
One raft on the veiled flood of Acheron,
Marius and Jugurtha together.
Nor at my funeral either will there be any long trail,
bearing ancestral lares and images;
No trumpets filled with my emptiness,
Nor shall it be on an Atalic bed;
The perfumed cloths shall be absent.
A small plebeian procession.
Enough, enough and in plenty
There will be three books at my obsequies
Which I take, my not unworthy gift, to Persephone.
You will follow the bare scarified breast
Nor will you be weary of calling my name, nor too weary
To place the last kiss on my lips
When the Syrian onyx is broken.
‘He who is now vacant dust
'Was once the slave of one passion:'
Give that much inscription
‘Death why tardily come?'
You, sometimes, will lament a lost friend,
For it is a custom:
This care for past men,
Since Adonis was gored in Idalia, and the Cytharean
Ran crying with out-spread hair,
In vain, you call back the shade,
In vain, Cynthia. Vain call to unanswering shadow,
Small talk comes from small bones.
poem by Ezra Pound
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Small Talk
Its not the chapters he reads when youre feeling low down
Its not the touch of his skin when you kiss him goodnight
Its not the money he spends when you want to buy a daydream
And not that miracle smile that makes the sky bright
Its not the way his hands behave
When youve turned out the light
Its the small, small small talk that makes it all happen
Small, small small talk that makes you want to fly, yes it does
Its not the way he believes in you like a religion
Its not the thrill that you get when hes holding you tight
Its not the way his eyes persuade
You to stay the night
Its the small, small small talk that makes it all happen (just like that)
Small, small small talk that makes you feel like flying, yes it does
Information, heart and soul, a whisper, a word
Confessions that have to be heard
Small small talk
Come on now, come on now
Come on - you make it rock so heavenly
Come on now, come on now
Come on - you seem to talk so heavenly
Big words...
Small talk...
Its not the way his eyes persuade
You to stay the night
Its the small, small small talk that makes it all happen
Small, small small talk that makes you feel like flying, yes it does
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Villanelle Of Acheron
By the pale marge of Acheron,
Me thinks we shall pass restfully,
Beyond the scope of any sun.
There all men hie them one by one,
Far from the stress of earth and sea,
By the pale marge of Acheron.
'Tis well when life and love is done,
'Tis very well at last to be,
Beyond the scope of any sun.
No busy voices there shall stun
Our ears: the stream flows silently
By the pale marge of Acheron.
There is the crown of labour won,
The sleep of immortality,
Beyond the scope of any sun.
Life, of thy gifts I will have none,
My queen is that Persephone,
By the pale marge of Acheron,
Beyond the scope of any sun.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Red BMX Bicycle
There was a small boy
In the countryside
Who had a small red BMX bicycle
Kept in the store besides the herbicides
Every evening like a cycle
He would ride down the dusty road
The sun a yellow ball
on the west side
Glittering under the sun`s rays
Was that small
RED BMX BICYCLE
There was a smaller boy
In the countryside
Who had nothing…
Totally nothing
He was a friend to the small boy
Every evening like a cycle
He would wait by the dusty road
To have a chance
On the small red BMX bicycle
His face would be all smiles
Even after falling off that
RED BMX BICYCLE
One day at dusk
The smaller boy
Stood next to the small boy
And asked
“When you grow up, would you give me this bike? ”
The small boy without thinking
Said YES..
There was a smaller boy
In the countryside
One night
He had a bad stomach ache
His mum wiping the tiny streams of tears
That fell from his small face
That was pale…
Due to dust from the dusty road
As he played with his the small boy
And rode on that
RED BMX BICYCLE
There was a small boy
In the countryside…
Now HE is all grown
And in the university
Far away in the city
That RED BMX BICYCLE
Now long gone
Given to some relative, I guess
If I could go back
To those days…
Those days with beautiful sunsets
Back in the countryside
Waiting for my chance
On my red BMX bicycle
Watching that smaller boy fall off
I would give him…
I would hand him that bicycle
And never expect it back
And watch him ride
Towards the beautiful sunset
On my red BMX bicycle
But if I can go back
All will be in vain
Because on that night…in the dark
He struggled with pain
His small heart couldn`t keep on
Outside there was rain
The gods possibly wanted to cleanse
All the evil that night
That took him away
Now I reminisce
As I keep moving on
About that smaller boy
And our small
RED BMX BICYCLE…
poem by Paul Oguda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cuckoo!
In woods so long time bare
Cuckoo!
Up and in the wood, I know not where
Two notes fall.
Yet I do not envy him at all
His phantasy.
Cuckoo!
I too,
Somewhere,
I have sung as merrily as he
Who can dare,
Small and careless love, so to laugh at care,
And who
Can call
Cuckoo!
In woods of winter weary,
In scented woods, of winter weary, call
Cuckoo!
In woods so long time bare.
poem by Hilaire Belloc
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Shadow In Vain
Stroll to the cafe
My God how time flies
I close up my brain
And another friend dies
I feel like a mirror
Feel like nothing is mine
I could go back to crying
But now dying seems fine
So I hang from the ceiling
Or I sit on the air
Or rot in a corner
Until somebody cares
Faces at random
I quote people I knew
Id love to be like me
If I could feel like you
Here am i, more roche five than pain
Here am i, just me and my walls to blame
Here am i, I really dont feel quite sane
Here am i, still searching for my shadow in vain
Lock my door I only think in black and white
Ill even try to look ashamed
Moving out of central
Somebody knows me well
Says hell spill the whole story
He may be lying I cant tell
Meet me inside
Ill keep my head to the floor
And one hand on the handle
Of the mad/sane door
Here am i, more roche five than pain
Here am i, just me and my walls to blame
Here am i, I really dont feel quite sane
Here am i, still searching for my shadow in vain
Lock my door I only think in black and white
Ill even try to look ashamed
My shadow in vain
My shadow in vain
My shadow in vain
My shadow in vain
My shadow in vain...
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Go Ahead My Friend, Leave Me
go ahead, my friend, leave me
for i am tired and weary
let me take some breaths of air
so i may fill my lungs
let me take some glasses of water
so i may quench my thirst
go ahead, my friend, take leave
let me stay for a while
and think about what i have lost along the way
of this long journey
something in me is broken
something so vital fell along the roads
of my past
i am taking my time to think
so i may come back and gather the pieces
i am dusting my feet
i am combing my hair
i am stretching my arms
i am looking at the mirror
i am looking for that door where you have never
entered before
go ahead, my friend, give me time to be alone
so i may become whole again
so i shall not have lived my life in vain
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In Vain
The stars in the sky
In vain
The tragedy of Hamlet
In vain
The key in the lock
In vain
The sleeping mother
In vain
The lamp in the corner
In vain
The lamp in the corner unlit
In vain
Abraham Lincoln
In vain
The Aztec empire
In vain
The writing hand: in vain
(The shoetrees in the shoes
In vain
The windowshade string upon
the hand bible
In vain—
The glitter of the greenglass
ashtray
In vain
The bear in the woods
In vain
The Life of Buddha
In vain)
poem by Jack Kerouac
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Bullet Bird
You’ve got no more wings
For you’re a bird promised
In a sky that never promised nests
You learn the flight in vain
From the puncture point
Clay like on markets you sing like a pigeon
In vain
You – stuffed- promise
Big feathers to the small ones
In vain
A 3 demodelled world
Fires back
A stray bullet
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Homage To Sextus Propertius - II
I had been seen in the shade, recumbent on cushioned Helicon,
The water dripping from Bellerophon's horse,
Alba, your kings, and the realm your folk
have constructed with such industry
Shall be yawned out on my lyre with such industry.
My little mouth shall gobble in such great fountains,
'Wherefrom father Ennius, sitting before I came, hath drunk.'
I had rehearsed the Curian brothers, and made remarks
on the Horatian javelin
(Near Q. H. Flaccus' book-stall).
'Of’ royal Aemilia, drawn on the memorial raft,
'Of’ the victorious delay of Fabius, and the left-handed
battle at Cannae,
Of lares fleeing the 'Roman seat' . . .
I had sung of all these
And of Hannibal,
and of Jove protected by geese.
And Phoebus looking upon me from the Castalian tree,
Said then 'You idiot! What are you doing with that water:
‘Who has ordered a book about heroes?
'You need, Propertius, not think
'About acquiring that sort of a reputation.
'Soft fields must be worn by small wheels,
'Your pamphlets will be thrown, thrown often into a chair
'Where a girl waits alone for her lover;
'Why wrench your page out of its course?
'No keel will sink with your genius
'Let another oar churn the water,
'Another wheel, the arena; mid-crowd is as bad as mid-sea.'
He had spoken, and pointed me a place with his plectrum:
Orgies of vintages, an earthern image of Silenus
Strengthened with rushes, Tegaean Pan,
The small birds of the Cytharean mother,
their Punic faces dyed in the Gorgon's lake;
Nine girls, from as many countrysides
bearing her offerings in their unhardened hands,
Such my cohort and setting. And she bound ivy to his thyrsos;
Fitted song to the strings;
Roses twined in her hands.
And one among them looked at me with face offended,
Calliope:
'Content ever to move with white swans!
'Nor will the noise of high horses lead you ever to battle;
Nor will the public criers ever have your name;
in their classic horns,
'Nor Mars shout you in the wood at Aeonium,
Nor where Rome ruins German riches,
'Nor where the Rhine flows with barbarous blood,
and flood carries wounded Suevi.
'Obviously crowned lovers at unknown doors,
'Night dogs, the marks of a drunken scurry,
'These are your images, and from you the sorcerizing of
shut-in young ladies,
'The wounding of austere men by chicane.'
Thus Mistress Calliope,
Dabbling her hands in the fount, thus she
Stiffened our face with the backwash of Philetas the Coan.
poem by Ezra Pound
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In A Small Moment
(carly simon)
In a small moment
She accepted credit for something she did not do
She said shed done the water color in her bedroom
But it was done by a friend from school
Just a little lie
No one would discover
At least not very soon
In a small moment
Just a little lie
When she wasnt looking it just slipped on by
In a small moment
In a restaurant where she worked the late night shift
She short changed a sailor and made five
You could never really call it a theft
Just a little lie
Swept up in her apron and kept as a well deserved gift
In a small moment
Just a little lie
When she wasnt looking it just slipped on by
In a small moment
She cheated on her lover and placed it in the back of her mind
As long as nobody knew the truth about her
It could never really be unkind
Just a little lie
That slipped beside her as she tossed and turned in her alibis
In a small moment
Just a little lie
When she wasnt looking it just slipped on by
Just a little lie
When she wasnt looking it jsut slipped on by
Slipped on by
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Death Of Adonis
Fragments 108, 110, 115, 117, 116, 111, 114, and 113 combined.
This is the lamentation-song
For Adonis — woe for Adonis, woe!
Thus wailed Aphrodite in anguish-throe,
As she strove to hold him back from death:
'Let thine heart not faint, O love! Be strong!
O me, it burns me, thy failing breath!
It kindles through all my being a fire!
My heart is aflame with despairing desire!'
She calls to her Eros of golden wing,
She bids him steep in the ice-cold spring
Fine linen, and lay on Adonis' brow: —
'O love, let its coolness revive thee now! . . .
Vain, vain! — his eyes see me no more;
They are fixed in a gaze upon Hades' door!
They close — he sleeps — not the sleep of the dead!
Hush, stir not a pebble with heedless tread!
No, no! this is death! Now remaineth to me
No sweetness on earth — nor honey nor bee!'
Homage To Sextus Propertius - IX
1
The twisted rhombs ceased their clamour of accompaniment;
The scorched laurel lay in the fire-dust;
The moon still declined to descend out of heaven,
But the black ominous owl hoot was audible.
And one raft bears our fates
on the veiled lake towards Avernus
Sails spread on Cerulean waters, I would shed tears for two;
I shall live, if she continue in life,
If she dies, I shall go with her.
Great Zeus, save the woman,
or she will sit before your feet in a veil, and tell
out the long list of her troubles.
2
Persephone and Dis, Dis, have mercy upon her,
There are enough women in hell,
quite enough beautiful women,
lope, and Tyro, and Pasiphae, and the formal girls of Achaia,
And out of Troad, and from the Campania,
Death has his tooth in the lot,
Avernus lusts for the lot of them,
Beauty is not eternal, no man has perennial fortune,
Slow foot, or swift foot, death delays but for a season.
My light, light of my eyes,
you are escaped from great peril,
Go back to Great Dian's dances bearing suitable gifts,
Pay up your vow of night watches
to Dian goddess of virgins,
And unto me also pay debt:
The ten nights of your company you have promised me.
poem by Ezra Pound
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Your little Heart
CHORUS
A little heart will never be so big
A little heart will always be so small
A little heart will never have the dig
A little heart won’t answer to the call
1
If you really want to love someone
Make sure your heart’s a big one
Or else you will find that it’s no fun
When they take their love and run
CHORUS
A little heart will never be so big
A little heart will always be so small
A little heart will never have the dig
A little heart won’t answer to the call
2
A big heart will always be filled with love
A big heart will be your turtledove
A big heart will love you day or night
A big heart will love you wrong or right
CHORUS
A little heart will never be so big
A little heart will always be so small
A little heart will never have the dig
A little heart won’t answer to the call
When they take their things and run
3
Don’t look at someone else’s heart
It’s yours that stand’s apart
Don’t be known to have a little heart
But one filled huge with love to start
CHORUS
A little heart will never be so big
A little heart will always be so small
A little heart will never have the dig
A little heart won’t answer to the call
When they take their things and run
4
Remember to give your heart away
Fill it with love each day
And then there will be no dismay
When you hear somebody say
YOUR little heart will never be so big
YOUR little heart will always be so small
YOUR little heart will never have the dig
YOUR little heart won’t answer to the call
YOUR little heart will never be so big
YOUR little heart will always be so small
YOUR little heart will never have the dig
YOUR little heart won’t answer to the call
COPYRIGHT HENRY N BROWN 080104
poem by Henry Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Exorcists
Then the apostle wonders wrought,
And healed the sick, in Jesus' name;
The sons of Sceva vainly thought
That they had pow'r to do the fame.
On one possessed they tried their art,
And naming Jesus preached by Paul,
They charged the spirit to depart
Expecting he'd obey their call.
The spirit answered, with a mock,
Jesus I know; and Paul I know;
I must have gone if Paul had spoke;
But who are ye that bid me go?
With fury then the man he filled,
Who on the poor pretenders flew;
Naked and wounded, almost killed,
They fled in all the peoples' view.
Jesus! that name, pronounced by faith,
Is full of wonder-working pow'r;
It conquers Satan, sin and death,
And cheers in trouble's darkest hour.
But they, who are not born again,
Know nothing of it but the sound;
They do but take his name in vain
When most their zeal and pains abound.
Satan their vain attempts derides,
Whether they talk, or pray, or preach;
Long as the love of sin abides,
His pow'r is safe beyond their reach.
But you, believers, may rejoice,
Satan well knows your mighty Friend;
He trembles at your Saviour's voice,
And owns he cannot gain his end.
poem by John Newton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Small Talk
Dont talk back to me, dont talk back to me
Dont talk back to me, dont talk
Going round in circles, hearing too many points of view
Just words to tire me out, small talk I could do without
I would be amazed if you returned to see things my way
Now that youve been disrespectful to my sense of pride
Isnt it a shame that you were lying when you said to me (small talk)
I was the only one, you and I were meant to be
I expect youll never really feel the way that I do
All of this is with regret, Im sure you will agree
Say something to me, anything at all
I want you to mean what you say
Ive seen all I want to see, and you mean the world to me
Ive lived for each moment to be with you, with you, with you
Small talk, small talk, small talk, small talk
You say I dont talk enough, that applies to both of us
Dont try to sound me out, something I could do without
So much goes on inside your head, I often wonder
Have you heard enough to know, theres nothing left to say
Say something to me, anything at all
I want you to mean what you say
Ive seen all I want to see, and you mean the world to me
Ive lived for each moment to be with you, with you, with you
Small talk
Small talk
Ooh small talk
Thats all I ever hear
Small talk
Ill be alright
It may take sometime
But Ill be alright (dont talk back to me)
Ill be alright (dont talk back to me) (dont want to be alone, nothing worth to carry on)
Ill be alright (dont talk back to me) (try hard to understand, you wont seem to lend a hand)
Ill be alright (dont talk back to me) (without youll fail to see, you never spare a thought for me)
Ill be alright (dont talk back to me) (so many things you said, going round in circles)
Ill be alright (dont talk back to me) (Ill rise above it all, enough to see another day)
Ill be alright
Ill be alright
Dont talk back to me...
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Shadows
Shadows, transparent grey,
ask me about themselves,
I only know that when they exist, I exist
I too am the shadow of my own self,
How many times I have tried!
to follow you,
You kept disappearing with each step,
and then at a certain step, a certain moment,
only you remained, my shadow!
Only then I realized, my shadow, my friend
that since the beginning
only you had existed
While, In vain, like a lost child
I kept following only shadows,
It was then,
that i realized that all my life
I have been following only shadows.
They took me to certain corners, certain dark places,
and deserted streets!
Until I found myself,
I was the discoverer of my self,
I discovered that I myself was a shadow
lost among the people.
poem by Sarang Mangi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wıshes of Freedom
Caged in the small jail
Of my body
I live,
And
Call myself
“Free spirit”.
Bound by the chains
Of rules
Set by a few of us
We act,
And
Call ourselves
“Independent”.
Tied by the ropes of
Society
Like a herd of sheep
We follow each
Blindly behind another
And call ourselves
“Pioneers”.
Jailed in small
Cabins of regulations
We kill for lust and greed
And call ourselves
“Martyrs”
Captured in small guarded boundaries
Of earth
We breathe
And
Call ourselves
“Free countries”.
Mounting the horse
Of my winged thoughts
I often wish
To break the jails
Loosen the ropes
Fly out
Beyond the reach
Of the vast sky.
I often wish,
If we could be
More real,
True pioneers and martyrs.
For then,
Freedom won’t mean
Small boundaries
Of guarded earth.
Will have
The whole of it
To roam about.
But,
Soon as the gallop stops
I am back in my jail
My wishes of freedom
A cry so frail.
And
Caged in the small jail
Of my body
I live,
And continue
Calling myself
“Free spirit”.
poem by Anjali Kakati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Where Is My Passion
Where is my passion
Far too much pain
Where is my passion
Must I love in vain?
Where is my passion
I need must know
Where is my passion
I want so much to grow
Where is my passion
Lost in your lips
Where is my passion
I feel for your kiss
Where is my passion
Lost in your eyes
Where is my passion
Release me to fly
Where is my passion
There in your hands
Where is my passion
Touch me…expand
Where is my passion
Please…be a man
poem by Fleurette Elaine Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cleopatra.
The asp, her baby, on her breast,
She falls asleep,
Ever, like Antony, to rest
While Nile shall keep
Its course, and Egypt be a name
Whose utterance stirs
The shadow on the Roman's fame,
His love and hers.
Out of the mire and mirth of Time,
By thought removed,
The life that might have shone sublime,
Nor unbeloved —
A doting mallard when her sail
From Actium flew,
He knew her love was, passion-pale,
The sword that slew!
Ah! even though her love was lust,
The swarthy Queen,
When her babe gave the mortal thrust,
A woman's mien
Wore, as her Circean eyes their last
Looked on the slave
And with her fatal witchery passed
Into the grave.
She yet shall stand in Beauty's list
A thing superb,
The Roman's light in Egypt's mist —
A lover's verb
That through his moods and tenses toned
A royal way,
And took Death rather than be loaned
To Caesar's sway.
poem by Robert Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Death Comes To Any Age
There is one story that makes me shudder
And so with care I live each day
It is about a mother and a daughter
Who went to a mall for her birthday.
The mother promised the eight year old
For a cellphone as her requested gift,
Excited to call her Dad, she was told-
As they crossed a street, she ran so swift.
The daughter had crossed ahead and saw
That her mother was left at the other side
And so like a child she ran back although
The lights had changed for the street so wide.
The lights turned to green and it was a 'go'
As all vehicles started to go running
Cars and trucks speeding traffic flow
Not seeing the small child who was just then crossing.
The truck driver saw her but it was too late
The brakes did not have the time to hold
The little girl met her untimely fate
As the truck ran over that eight-year-old.
The hysterical mother went into shock
Seeing her child's brains on the pavement
In grief she almost had a heart attack
Screamed in tears all her anguished lament.
The lesson here that Death teaches us all
One may be eighty or be eight-year-old
But when He chooses to give us a call
With Him, there's no young and there's no old.
This is a true story that happened in our city in front of a big mall. All who witnessed the tragedy were affected by it.
-
February 3,2010
Philippines
Copyright Cynthia Buhain-Baello
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!