John Keats
Who killed John Keats?
'I,' says the Quarterly,
So savage and Tartarly;
''Twas one of my feats.'
Who shot the arrow?
'The poet-priest Milman
(So ready to kill man),
Or Southey or Barrow.
Related quotes
A Pig's-Eye View Of Literature
The Lives and Times of John Keats,
Percy Bysshe Shelley, and
George Gordon Noel, Lord Byron
Byron and Shelley and Keats
Were a trio of Lyrical treats.
The forehead of Shelley was cluttered with curls,
And Keats never was a descendant of earls,
And Byron walked out with a number of girls,
But it didn't impair the poetical feats
Of Byron and Shelley,
Of Byron and Shelley,
Of Byron and Shelley and Keats.
poem by Dorothy Parker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let Them Alone
If God has been good enough to give you a poet
Then listen to him. But for God's sake let him alone until he is dead;
no prizes, no ceremony,
They kill the man. A poet is one who listens
To nature and his own heart; and if the noise of the world grows up
around him, and if he is tough enough,
He can shake off his enemies, but not his friends.
That is what withered Wordsworth and muffled Tennyson, and would have
killed Keats; that is what makes
Hemingway play the fool and Faulkner forget his art.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Life of a Roman Catholic Priest
A priest is nearest Christ;
A priest is Christ at times;
A priest is almost Christ;
A priest is most divine.
A priest is God’s shepherd;
A priest must tend to flock;
A priest must be like ‘rock’;
A priest should ne’er defrock.
A priest communes with God;
A priest draws hope from Lord;
A priest shows love of Christ;
A priest carries His Cross!
A priest is tempted too;
A priest has falls in life;
A priest falters also;
A priest has strength from Christ.
A priestly job is tough;
A priest’s life can turn rough;
A priest has strife enough,
But has to smile and laugh!
A priest helps harvest souls;
A priest has many roles;
A priest has but one goal –
To drink from Christ’s own bowl!
Pray that more priests should come;
May priests curb their freedom;
May priest usher Kingdom;
A life for Christ’s welcome.
Fondly dedicated to Rev. Fr. Xavier Claudius,
Beloved Parish priest, ‘Holy Family Church, Perundurai
Copyright by Dr John Celes 25-7-2010
poem by John Celes
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I'm Wanted?
I’m wanted for murder
That is what the cop said
This was my plead to the cop
“I didn’t mean it”
“He was just there”
“He scared me”
“The gun was just there”
“He attacked me “
“I had to fight back”
“It was either I kill him
Or he killed my family and I”
“I was not ready to die “
“He was asking for is “
“This could not be true “
“It was not my purpose to kill him”
“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry”
“Please let me go”
Yet the cop did not listen to me
He taught that I was crazy
And that is exactly what I was
I did not kill anyone
It was just a nightmare that I had
That’s what he told me
But I knew that I did kill someone
I felt it
I felt his warm blood splatter
As I shot him dead in the head
I hear him fall to the ground
And the dropp of his knife
Then I realized that what it was
It was really my imagination
I have been having visions
Visions of the past
And I did not kill that man
That was my mom
And I was the little girl in the background
I was really crazy
That is why I never met my mom
She is in jail
She had committed
MURDER! !
(not true) Poem Writer
Jackie Thielman
poem by Jackie Thielman
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I Shot The Sheriff
By bob marley
I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy.
I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy.
All around in my home town
Theyre trying to track me down.
They say they want to bring me in guilty
For the killing of a deputy,
For the life of a deputy.
But I say:
I shot the sheriff, but I swear it was in self-defense.
I shot the sheriff, and they say it is a capital offense.
Sheriff john brown always hated me;
For what I dont know.
Every time that I plant a seed
He said, kill it before it grows.
He said, kill it before it grows.
I say:
I shot the sheriff, but I swear it was in self-defense.
I shot the sheriff, but I swear it was in self-defense.
Freedom came my way one day
And I started out of town.
All of a sudden I see sheriff john brown
Aiming to shoot me down.
So I shot, I shot him down.
I say:
I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy.
I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy.
Reflexes got the better of me
And what is to be must be.
Every day the bucket goes to the well,
But one day the bottom will drop out,
Yes, one day the bottom will drop out.
But I say:
I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy, oh no.
I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy, oh no.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bars Fight
August, twas the twenty-fifth,
Seventeen houndred forty-six,
The Indians did in ambush lay,
Some very valiant men to slay
Twas nigh unto Sam Dickinson's mill,
The Indians there five men did kill.
The names of whom I'll not leave out,
Samuel Allen like a hero foute,
And though he was so brave and bold,
His face no more shall we behold.
Eleazer Hawks was killed outright,
Before he had time to fight,
Before he did the Indians see,
Was shot and killed immediately.
Oliver Amsden he was slain,
Which caused his friends much grief pain.
Simeon Amsden they found dead
Not many rods from Oliver's head.
Adonijah Gillett, we do hear,
Did lose his life which was so dear.
John Sadler fled across the water,
And thus escaped the dreadful slaughter.
Eunice Allen see the Indians comeing
And hoped to save herself by running:
And had not her petticoats stopt her,
The awful creatures had not cotched her,
Not tommyhawked her on the head,
And left her on the ground for dead.
Young Samuel Allen, Oh! lack-a-day!
Was taken and carried to Canada.
poem by Lucy Terry Prince
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Before a Poetry Reading
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I'm feeling nervous but I mustn't show it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I hope to heaven that I won't blow it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I mustn't reveal that I'm a second-rate poet!
I'm only a rhymer, but they don't know it!
If you've got no talent you'll have to grow it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Shot
There was a shot,
A shot fleeing through the dark night,
And all around was still
For fear of being found
As it whistled past the widows
Of every man, woman, child.
Searching.
Looking to rip and tear and kill,
And penetrate
The innocent flesh
Of any being, anywhere at all
There was a shot,
The sound came cracking through my dreams,
Impersonal and deadly
And hunting for the flesh
Of anyone who ever felt
Who ever laughed and sang,
Hunting,
Getting ready for the kill.
I will not let them die,
The ones who,
When the time comes,
Will live and love and grow.
I step out into the treacle night
And the bullet thuds home.
poem by Clover West
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A Fair Risk
Rashly I shot an arrow in the air,
And, as my shaft into the zenith sped,
I knew 'twas bound to fall some time, somewhere;
And wondered if 'twould dropp upon some head.
A certain friend of mine who loitered near
Remarked, 'Don't let the thing distress you, please.
'Twill hit a politician, never fear.'
And so, my tortured conscience was at ease.
Now, when I read of Party Government,
Its wrangles, lies, and methods most unfair,
I calmly step outside my tenement
And shoot another arrow in the air.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Betrayal
Rift, drift, lift and sift!
Your betrayal stays closer to you and,
Is ready to betray you! ! ! !
But the guns that killed one is also ready to kill another,
And i have my mind on you to save you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Challenge to the Dark
shot in the eye
shot in the brain
shot in the ass
shot like the affectionate mom
planting her kiss
everywhere over her sweet child
inspired by
A Challenge To The Dark
shot in the eye
shot in the brain
shot in the ass
shot like a flower in the dance
Charles Bukowski
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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An Arrow Goes To War
An arrow goes to war
Right to the start of it
Right through the heart of it
“Ow” cries out from a wounded beastly roar
When an arrow goes to war
Good dies out
On a battlefield
Evil considers it chattel killed
Shouts come from the home front too loud to ignore
This is the outcome
Of an arrow gone to war
Weary mothers, fathers, lovers, friends, daughters & sons
Appealing for slaughter to end what has begun
Recognizing the sin but then to win…
…Love is a fight worth fighting for
But how can the broken mend again
When an arrow goes to war?
poem by Tony Haynes
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First Shot
I said I was hunting deer. I knew the trails, the split tracks and pellets of shit; circles
where they bedded down together. I faced a buck once, for almost ten minutes I think;
I moved first and it left me. I ran home to think.
I had a bow, target arrows, a target on straw. My father said be careful, and I was, but
I sneaked my bow and arrow to the woods. I surprised a tiny rabbit near a hole. It
froze. I had an arrow on it. I moved and it ran for the hole. I never shot.
They had a blanket, in a clearing of wiry grass that sloped to the north. He had her
down, her hands all over his back. I thought I knew her. They hadn't seen me. I notched
an arrow. His head turned my way, vague, like he needed his glasses, and maybe afraid.
I got scared, I wasn't sure what it was; I shot my arrow, my first shot, wild I think, and ran.
I waited for something for weeks, for more than weeks. I couldn't answer questions. I
thought I saw her a few times, later. I never went back until I was sixteen, almost, and
nothing was there but I only stayed for a minute.
poem by Eric Torgersen
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There exist only three beings worthy of respect: the priest, the soldier, the poet. To know, to kill, to create.
quote by Charles Baudelaire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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World war one
War of the great powers
Over four countries took part
Rifles were also used to kill in the war
Land was taken from countries
Dead men rotted in the trenches
Weapons were used to kill
Although people got shell shocks
Recruitment was one of the most things men had to do
On water
Navy's battle first shot was in Malawi
Even though war killed us all
poem by Tanaka Chirombo
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Thirsts modulate cries
That time when John Keats and Kalidas lived
Women were not that sophisticated,
That exposed to men and that liberal.
Had Keats and Kalidas lived this time
Things would not have been different
In their expression of lust for women
As men are not as thirsty and starving
As they were that time. Thirsts modulate cries.
04.02.2002, Pakd
[Kalidas is equally s sensual poet in Sanskrit,
Whose works. Sakuntala and Raguvamsa are famous]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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There was very little suicide among the men of the North, because every man considered it his duty to get killed, not to kill himself; and to kill himself would have seemed cowardly, as implying fear of being killed by others.
quote by Lafcadio Hearn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Arrow For You To Shoot
Shall I give you an arrow to shoot? .
The arrow is ready to shoot forth
Its tip is sharp and shining
And it is sure to pierce through any flesh and bone.
The arrow is made of age old metals hard
Its frame is lean and long
A shaft that knows no bounds...
And it is sure to strike at the object hard.
The arrow is loved by sages and saints
Its value is unquoted in scriptures ever
And it is sure to remain desired by all.
But where is the bow to shoot it from?
You decide... you alone
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Walkin' In Jerusalem
Walkin in Jerusalem?
Diamond Rio
Oh John, Oh John what did you say, walking in Jerusalem just like John
I'll meet you there on the judgement day, walking in Jerusalem just like John.
...........instrumental..............
(quicker now)
Oh John, Oh John what did you say, walking in Jerusalem just like John
I'll meet you there on the judgement day, walking in Jerusalem just like John.
I'm gonna be ready
I'm gonna be ready
I'm gonna be ready (lord) I'm walking in Jerusalem just like John.
Yeah
I'm gonna be ready
I'm gonna be ready
I'm gonna be ready (lord) I'm walking in Jerusalem just like John.
...........instrumental..............
Some come crippled, and some come lame, walking in Jerusalem just like John
Some come walking in Jesus' name, walking in Jerusalem just like John
I'm gonna be ready
I'm gonna be ready
I'm gonna be ready (lord) I'm walking in Jerusalem just like John.
Yeah
I'm gonna be ready
I'm gonna be ready
I'm gonna be ready (lord) I'm walking in Jerusalem just like John.
....... instrumental........
If you get to heaven before I do, walking in Jerusalem just like John.
Tell all my friends I'm coming too, walking in Jerusalem just like John
I'm gonna be ready
I'm gonna be ready
I'm gonna be ready (lord) I'm walking in Jerusalem just like John.
Yeah
I'm gonna be ready
I'm gonna be ready
I'm gonna be ready (lord) I'm walking in Jerusalem just like John.
........... instrumental...........
Well carrying a load upon your shoulder, walking in Jerusalem just like John.
Yeah I'll meet you there at the first crossover, walking in Jerusalem just like John.
Yeah
I'm gonna be ready
I'm gonna be ready
I'm gonna be ready (lord) I'm walking in Jerusalem just like John.
REPEAT 2 times
I'm gonna be ready
I'm gonna be ready
I'm gonna be ready LORD
(slow right down)
To ........Walking in Jerusalem.......... Just like John
song performed by by Diamond Rio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lake Poets
You have heard of William Wordsworth he was bard of Cockermouth
And he truly was a great poet if that ever was in doubt
And with Southey and With Coleridge they became known as the lake poets
And they made the Lake District famous and some famous poems they wrote.
Robert Southey was a fine poet he was slave to poetry
And he was for awhile Poet Laureate proves the great poet he must be
And though he is not well known as Coleridge and Wordsworth's is a greater name
He tends to be under rated and deserve a better fame.
And as for Samuel Taylor Coleridge a name verse critics celebrate
His works were born of genius a poetic all time great
The Rhyme Of The Ancient Mariner his masterpiece and some say
Is even greater than the famous elegy of Gray
And as for himself Will Wordsworth his fame seem to grow and grow
He has fifty times as many readers nowadays as he had one hundred years ago
When one talks of poets and poetry Wordsworth's name can't be left out
A testimony to the greatness of the Bard of Cockermouth.
Coleridge, Southey and Wordsworth geniuses all three
Their names inscribed in glory and poetic history
They lived in the Lake District that beautiful English country side
And due to the fame of these men the Lake District is known World wide.
poem by Francis Duggan
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