The Storm
If as the winds and waters here below
Do fly and flow,
My sighs and tears as busy were above;
Sure they would move
And much affect thee, as tempestuous times
Amaze poor mortals, and object their crimes.
Stars have their storms, ev'n in a high degree,
As well as we.
A throbbing conscience spurred by remorse
Hath a strange force:
It quits the earth, and mounting more and more,
Dares to assault, and besiege thy door.
There it stands knocking, to thy musick's wrong,
And drowns the song.
Glory and honour are set by till it
An answer get.
Poets have wrong'd poor storms: such days are best;
They purge the air without, within the breast.
poem by George Herbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Its Not A Song
Day turns to night, and I turn into bed.
Cant get to sleep; somethings in my head.
Pacing the floor, I try to force a rhyme.
Why do I fear this time?
Its not a song till it touches your heart.
Its not a song till it tears you apart.
After whats left of whats right and whats wrong,
Till it gets through to you,
Its not a song.
Now close your eyes; look into your hand.
What do you see?
Life is our song, to give and learn to take.
Time will not wait.
Oh, wont you please come dance,
While the songs still playing,
Wont be long till the silence falls.
Its not a song till it touches your heart. (its not a song.)
Its not a song till it tears you apart.
After whats left of whats right and whats wrong,
Till it gets through to you,
Its not a song.
Its not a song till it touches your heart. (its not a song.)
Its not a song till it tears you apart.
After whats left of whats right and whats wrong,
Till it gets through to you,
Its not a song.
Its not a song till it touches your heart. (its not a song.)
Its not a song till it tears you apart.
After whats left of whats right and whats wrong,
Till it gets through to you,
Its not a song.
Its not a song till it touches your heart. (its not a song.)
Its not a song till it tears you apart.
After whats left of whats right and whats wrong,
Till it gets through to you,
Its not a song.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hard Times
(stephen foster)
Let us pause in lifes pleasures and count its many tears
While we all sup sorrow with the poor.
Theres a song that will linger forever in our ears,
Oh, hard times, come again no more
tis the song, the sigh of the weary.
Hard times, hard times, come again no more.
Many days you have lingered all around my door.
Oh, hard times, come again no more.
While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay.
There are frail forms fainting at the door
Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say,
Oh, hard times, come again no more.
tis the song, the sigh of the weary.
Hard times, hard times, come again no more.
Many days you have lingered all around my door.
Oh, hard times, come again no more.
Theres a pale drooping maiden who foils her life away
With a worn out heart, whose better days are oer.
Though her voice it would be merry, tis sighing all the day,
Oh, hard times, come again no more.
tis the song, the sigh of the weary.
Hard times, hard times, come again no more.
Many days you have lingered all around my door.
Oh, hard times, come again no more.
tis the song, the sigh of the weary.
Hard times, hard times, come again no more.
Many days you have lingered all around my door.
Oh, hard times, come again no more
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I were dead
'IF I were dead, you'd sometimes say, Poor Child!'
The dear lips quiver'd as they spake,
And the tears brake
From eyes which, not to grieve me, brightly smiled.
Poor Child, poor Child!
I seem to hear your laugh, your talk, your song.
It is not true that Love will do no wrong.
Poor Child!
And did you think, when you so cried and smiled,
How I, in lonely nights, should lie awake,
And of those words your full avengers make?
Poor Child, poor Child!
And now, unless it be
That sweet amends thrice told are come to thee,
O God, have Thou no mercy upon me!
Poor Child!
poem by Coventry Patmore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hard Times
1. let us pause in lifes pleasures and count its many tears
While we all sup sorrow with the poor.
Theres a song that will linger forever in our ears,
Oh, hard times, come again no more.
tis the song, the sigh of the weary.
Hard times, hard times, come again no more.
Many days you have lingered all around my cabin door.
Oh, hard times, come again no more.
2. while we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay.
There are frail forms fainting at the door.
Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say.
Oh, hard times, come again no more.
tis the song, the sigh of the weary.
Hard times, hard times, come again no more.
Many days you have lingered all around my cabin door.
Oh, hard times, come again no more.
3. theres pale drooping maiden who foils her life away
With a worn out heart, whose better days are oer.
Though her voice it would be merry, tis sighing all the day,
Oh, hard times, come again no more.
tis the song, the sigh of the weary.
Hard times, hard times, come again no more.
Many days you have lingered all around my cabin door.
Oh, hard times, come again no more.
tis the song, the sigh of the weary.
Hard times, hard times, come again no more.
Many days you have lingered all around my cabin door.
Oh, hard times, come again no more.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Might is right
It is always the fact that might is right
They will go on till the end to fight
They may do it with the speed of light
They have the wisdom and long sight
Small insects kill smaller one
Big also kill little one and go on
It is complete cycle of exploitation
Everybody looses in turn and in rotation
So if rich rule the scene then nothing wrong
Not all can be in race and come along
It is sheer coincidence that mighty rule
Otherwise not all the people are fool
Person with abundance can sustain losses
He may have no regret even if looses
This gives them little advantage
Rest all feel confined to cage
Once you are under domination you are bound to suffer
You may have no rights other than to differ
So poor remain poor and rich gets richer
Poor remain suppressed for times to come
Rich are dominating and always welcome
Corruption has engulfed poor and rich alike
Everybody is influenced and affected with hike
No one wants to remain as poor like
Rich too wants not to become poor and dislike
This is tendency that we feel pity for poor
We have seen them knocking the door
But it is the system that will remain forever
Even if God descends on earth it will be there
If you have same system with no discrimination
No one may work and develop alienation
They will feel free with passing of responsibility
Here comes then the end of clear and distinct ability
If you have system with loop holes anybody will escape
No one can restrict the temptation or put the cap
Only the poor fail to emerge for the want of resources
The powerful emerge and re-emerge with full force
The oppression part is little disturbing
No one can force or go on curbing
No one can be forced to undergo torture
Even God has made it very sure
The rich may have disliking for poor
Poor to may have tendency to show exit door
It has been clash of time for centuries and very old
No one can buy it or arguments can be sold
Lord may wish so for all His children
He may even grant the same blessing even
Yet that difference may remain and even if not
The needless wars might not have been fought
The human beings may create it to rule
They make use of all available tools
Rich may tackle poor and poor may tackle down trodden
As the system remains same with all the odds even
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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High Priest Of Rhythmic Noise
Its been a long time, baby
High priest of rhytmic noise
Living inside of me
I been goin round in ciricles
And Ive considered first degree
Just a singer in a mind choir
Lives on harmony
If the song dont change the choir wont sin
Wont sing the same song forever
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
You look strange, thats what I like
You look strange like me
Fit to be tied, a little bedtime story
Next position please
Just a singer in a mind choir
Lives on harmony
If the song dont change the choir wont sing
Wont sing the same song forever
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
When the high priest of rhythmic noise
Is inside of you
Dont give up, get out, get down
(forever is a long long time)
Dont stand up, shut up, sit down
(youre strange, thats what I like)
Dont make a move till you hear that sound
(Im just a singer in a mind choir)
Dont give up, get out, get down
(high priest of rhytmic noise)
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
When the high priest of rhythmic noise
Is inside of you
Forever is a long long time
If you can...
Im a ...little tiny plastic pills
From my little plastic pills
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
When the high priest of rhythmic noise
Is inside of you
Dont give up, get out, get down
(forever is a long long time)
Dont stand up, shut up, sit down
(youre strange, thats what I like)
Dont make a move till you hear that sound
(Im just a singer in a mind choir)
Dont give up, get out, get down
(high priest of rhytmic noise)
Dont give up, get out, get down
(forever is a long long time)
Dont stand up, shut up, sit down
(youre strange, thats what I like)
Dont make a move till you hear that sound
(Im just a singer in a mind choir)
Dont give up, get out, get down
(high priest of rhytmic noise)
song performed by by Cheap Trick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Negro Father's Lamentation Over the Body of His Infant Son
Thou'rt dead, my boy!—my son!—my only child!—
And yet I may not shed one tear for thee,
Nor hanging o'er thy bier in anguish wild,
Upbraid the hand that bore thee far from me:
I cannot wish that thou hadst lived to share
Thy father's fate—his woes—and his despair!
I loved thee—oh! I need not say how well!
Thou wert my all of hopes or bliss on earth!
Yet I will not repine that thou dost dwell
In happiness, with her who gave thee birth,
While I, like yon dark rock of naked stone,
Must bear the storms that round me beat, alone.
'T is well! Thou wilt not share those storms with me,
That is my all of comfort in this hour—
I weep not, though I would have died for thee!
Ay, more than died— that sacrifice were poor—
I would have spurn'd the hand that set me free,
And clasp'd my chain, and lived a slave, for thee.
My boy! my darling boy! farewell, farewell!
Thou ne'er shalt feel the pangs that rend me now,
For still my heart with agony will swell,
To think, that never more upon my brow,
Thy little lips with fondness shall be prest,
As when I oft have clasp'd thee to my breast.
Yes! fare thee well! thy fond caress no more
Shall soothe the tortured throbbing of my heart,
As it full oft has done, when tyrant power
Has trampled me to earth, and round me prest
The chain of slavery, till my swelling heart
Has madden'd into frenzy with the smart.
Yet even then, though thou couldst calm my soul,
With thy soft lisping voice and childish glee,
While clasping thee, sad thoughts would o'er me roll,
Of what must be thy future destiny,
Till my hot tears have wet thy little face,
And thou hast wonder'd at my wild embrace.
But thou art dead!—it ne'er will be thy fate
To tremble at a cruel tyrant's frowns—
To bend in servile toil, to feed his state,
To feel the lash, and hear him mock thy groans.
Then fare thee well!—thy father will not weep,
Or wish to wake thee from thy peaceful sleep.
poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Complaint
There is a change--and I am poor;
Your love hath been, nor long ago,
A fountain at my fond heart's door,
Whose only business was to flow;
And flow it did; not taking heed
Of its own bounty, or my need.
What happy moments did I count!
Blest was I then all bliss above!
Now, for that consecrated fount
Of murmuring, sparkling, living love,
What have I? Shall I dare to tell?
A comfortless and hidden well.
A well of love--it may be deep--
I trust it is,--and never dry:
What matter? If the waters sleep
In silence and obscurity.
--Such change, and at the very door
Of my fond heart, hath made me poor.
poem by William Wordsworth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Robbery, Assault & Battery
The streets were deserted though the police were alerted,
They considered the phone call a hoax.
Furtively glancing then jauntily prancing
The youth caught the guards unaware.
Slipping between them he ought to have seen then
The eyes and their owner so near.
With torch shining bright he strode on in the night
Till he came to the room with the safe.
"hello son, i hope you're having fun."
"you've got it wrong sir, i'm only the cleaner."
With that he fired, the other saying as he died,
"you've done me wrong," it's the same old song forever.
Robbery, assault and battery,
The felon and his felony.
Robbery, assault and battery,
The felon and his felony.
Picked up the diamonds and bundles of fivers
He pushed them well down in his sack.
But the alarm had been sounded, he was completely surrounded
But he had some more tricks up his sleeve.
"come outside with your hands held high."
"you'll not get me alive sir, i promise you that sir."
With that he fired, the other saying as he died
"you've done me wrong," it's the same old song forever.
Robbery, assault and battery,
The felon and his felony.
Robbery, assault and battery,
The felon and his felony.
"he's leaving via the roof, the bastard's got away.
God always fights on the side of the bad man."
"i've got clean away but i'll be back some day,
Just the combination will have changed.
Some day they'll catch me, to a chain they'll attach me,
Until that day i'll ride the old crime wave.
If they try to hold me for trial
I'll stay out of gaol by paying my bail
And after i'll go to the court of appeal saying
"you've done me wrong," it's the same old song forever."
Done me wrong - same old song - done me wrong.
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Real Enemy...
it is not late
the wind finally knows its enemy
it was not the tree that it uprooted in one of its storms
not the clouds that it had blown with rage
not the sea whose waves it tumbled in a tsunami
not even the boats it sank
not pitying the passengers and crew who were swallowed
its whirlpools have been wrong
upon itself it must know
its winds its own storms
its enemies all
at the
end.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O Navis
POOR bark of Life, upon the billows hoarse
Assailed by storms of envy and deceit,
Across what cruel seas in passage fleet
My and sword alone direct thy course!
My pen is dull; my sword of little force;
Thy side lies open to the wild waves' beat
As out from Favor's harbors we retreat,
Pursued by hopes deceived and vain remorse.
Let heaven by star to guide thee! here below
How vain the joys that foolish hearts desire!
Here friendship dies and enmity keeps true;
Here happy days have left thee long ago!
But seek not port, brave thou the tempest's ire;
Until the end thy fated course pursue!
poem by Lope de Vega
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet- Life Is Flexible
It is not wrong to make mistakes often;
It is not wrong to do blunders in life;
It is not wrong to see mishaps happen;
It is not wrong to panic 'midst your strife.
It is not wrong to be lazy some days;
It is not wrong to make decisions wrong;
It is not wrong to squander wealth some ways;
It is not wrong to love a thing for long.
It is not wrong to come late while bell chimes,
It is not wrong to selfish be, at times;
It is not wrong to envy some sometimes;
It is not wrong to sin too many times.
It is not wrong to err where others don't;
'Tis wrong to feel guilty when others won't.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mothers Day2007
She hath my heart, she is my mum.
She hath my heart, she is my only, she is my one.
She hath my heart, though rough winds may blow.
She hath my heart, still her love will flow, her love will always show.
She hath my heart, I thank my lucky stars.
She hath my heart and i have hers.
She hath my heart, i long for her presence.
She hath my heart, her name is essence.
She hath my heart and forever she will.
Lifetimes will come and go, i will love her still
She hath my heart, this fact i cant conceal
Our bond is like sentiment you just cant kill
She hath my heart in times of sorrow.
She hath my heart, yesterday, today and tomorrow.
She hath my heart, my voice will sing.
She hath my heart, she makes the bell in my heart ring.
She hath my heart, in times of trouble.
She wont stumble no i will not let her crumble.
She hath my heart in each and every way
And my love for her grows with each day
She hath my heart for we were once one.
She hath my heart, the heart of the boy inside the man
I hath her heart, the heart we once shared.
Though separated in body the hearts still paired.
She hath my heart i need her near.
She hath my heart my mama dear
She hath my heart and she already knows
In a world of thorny bushes she stands out like rose
She hath my heart for she is always by my side
When the sun sets she is my light, she is my guide.
poem by Soul Child
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Knock Two Knocks
One knock, Two knocks
Who's at the door?
Come out once more
One knock, Two knocks
Who's at the door?
Come out and see for sure
A world melts, as one developes
A world ends, as one begins
One Knock, Two knock
Who's at the door?
Open it once more
One Knock, Two knock
Who's at the door?
Come closer and it just might poor
Devastation has come to me.
I hear it like the knocking
The ground is rocking
Given the eyes of a blind man I once again can see
With wings I rise and soar.
Thoughts with clarity I explore
Got to get a better view, maybe from an enormous mountain up so high
Focus on the crystal ball, reading a fortune from the sky
Oh such, such pretty pretty ball
Just let it fall, down to a place full depravity, and derogation
With one Revelation after another they come
knocking knocking on my door
Will I answer, oh will I answer
Only if I must
And its forever open with one fell gust
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Robbery, Assault Battery
The streets were deserted though the police were alerted,
They considered the phone call a hoax.
Furtively glancing then jauntily prancing
The youth caught the guards unaware.
Slipping between them he ought to have seen then
The eyes and their owner so near.
With torch shining bright he strode on in the night
Till he came to the room with the safe.
Hello son, I hope youre having fun.
Youve got it wrong sir, Im only the cleaner.
With that he fired, the other saying as he died,
Youve done me wrong, its the same old song forever.
Robbery, assault and battery,
The felon and his felony.
Robbery, assault and battery,
The felon and his felony.
Picked up the diamonds and bundles of fivers
He pushed them well down in his sack.
But the alarm had been sounded, he was completely surrounded
But he had some more tricks up his sleeve.
Come outside with your hands held high.
Youll not get me alive sir, I promise you that sir.
With that he fired, the other saying as he died
Youve done me wrong, its the same old song forever.
Robbery, assault and battery,
The felon and his felony.
Robbery, assault and battery,
The felon and his felony.
Hes leaving via the roof, the bastards got away.
God always fights on the side of the bad man.
Ive got clean away but Ill be back some day,
Just the combination will have changed.
Some day theyll catch me, to a chain theyll attach me,
Until that day Ill ride the old crime wave.
If they try to hold me for trial
Ill stay out of gaol by paying my bail
And after Ill go to the court of appeal saying
Youve done me wrong, its the same old song forever.
Done me wrong - same old song - done me wrong.
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nothing's Wrong aka Storms Will Come
There once was a battlefield where all was silent.
From foxholes and ditches rose the heads of men defiant.
The weathered general looked around, looked hard, looked long.
Said to his men, There's nothing wrong except there's nothing wrong.
Not long after, they found themselves pinned down,
Surrounded by the enemy. The enemy all around.
-
There's nothing wrong except there's nothing wrong.
Does everything look bright? Keep sharp, stay strong.
Cause storms will come, right when nothing's wrong.
-
It has been said that when things are bad, look up,
Cause things are sure to brighten up.
But when things are looking good, brace yourself.
Lest you start running when the rain pelts.
Friendships may be strong and good, but when the storm comes.
Then you find out what they're made of, what they become.
Watch what you promise, what you do, what you say.
Because storms will come and test you, one day.
When living on a mountain, on an endless high.
Look out, cause the fall is hard when you're up in the sky.
Those promises you make when feeling on top of it all,
Are only as good as you can deliver when you feel small.
True people aren't rated by how they're seen.
They're rated by the storms in which they've been.
The greatest tree can fall down in a storm,
Even though it was big and majestic, it's gone.
Will you hold when the fire burns?
When the cold numbs?
Will you fight on, in the thunder and hail?
Will you go on, and refuse to fail?
Will you hold true to your word?
Or are you the coward that runs before the sword?
Batten down the hatches. Remember what has been said and done.
Because storms will come....
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Blind Slave Boy
Come back to me, mother! why linger away
From thy poor little blind boy, the long weary day!
I mark every footstep, I list to each tone,
And wonder my mother should leave me alone!
But there’s no one to joy or to sorrow with me;
For each hath of pleasure and trouble his share,
And none for the poor little blind boy will care.
My mother, come back to me! close to thy breast
Once more let thy poor little blind one be pressed;
Once more let me feel they warm breath on my cheek,
And hear thee in accents of tenderness speak!
O mother! I’ve no one to love me – no heart
Can bear like thine own in my sorrows a part;
No hand is so gentle, no voice is so kind,
O! none like a mother can cherish the blind!
Poor blind one! No mother thy wailing can hear,
No mother can hasten to banish thy fear;
And for one paltry dollar hath sold thee, poor child!
Ah! who can in language of mortals reveal
The anguish that none but a mother can feel,
When man is his vile lust of mammon hath trod
On her child, who is stricken and smitten of God!
Blind, helpless, forsaken, with strangers alone,
She hears in her anguish his piteous moan,
As he eagerly listens—but listens in vain,
To catch the loved tones of his mother again!
The curse of the broken in spirit shall fall
On the wretch who hath mingled this wormwood and gall,
And his gain like a mildew shall blight and destroy,
Who hath torn from his mother the little blind boy!
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Storms In Africa: Part I (LP Version)
Roma Ryan
Though I walk through
warm sands in Africa
winds will grow soon
to storms in Africa.
How far to go
I cannot say.
How many more
will journey this way?
Dark skies fall on
black earth and ivory.
Far from your sun
clouds now close over me
How far to go
I cannot say.
How many more
will journey this way?
Storms have come!
rains wash the earth away
Dark skies fall down
into another day.
Rains have now come
from storms in Africa
Time will go on
through Storms in Africa
song performed by by Enya
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Change
POOR River, now thou'rt almost dry,
What Nymph, or Swain, will near thee lie?
Since brought, alas! to sad Decay,
What Flocks, or Herds, will near thee stay?
The Swans, that sought thee in thy Pride,
Now on new Streams forgetful ride:
And Fish, that in thy Bosom lay,
Chuse in more prosp'rous Floods to play.
All leave thee, now thy Ebb appears,
To waste thy sad Remains in Tears;
Nor will thy mournful Murmurs heed.
Fly, wretched Stream, with all thy speed,
Amongst those solid Rocks thy Griefs bestow;
For Friends, like those alas! thou ne'er did'st know.
And thou, poor Sun! that sat'st on high;
But late, the Splendour of the Sky;
What Flow'r, tho' by thy Influence born,
Now Clouds prevail, will tow'rds thee turn?
Now Darkness sits upon thy Brow,
What Persian Votary will bow?
What River will her Smiles reflect,
Now that no Beams thou can'st direct?
By watry Vapours overcast,
Who thinks upon thy Glories past?
If present Light, nor Heat we get,
Unheeded thou may'st rise, and set.
Not all the past can one Adorer keep,
Fall, wretched Sun, to the more faithful Deep.
Nor do thou, lofty Structure! boast,
Since undermin'd by Time and Frost:
Since thou canst no Reception give,
In untrod Meadows thou may'st live.
None from his ready Road will turn,
With thee thy wretched Change to mourn.
Not the soft Nights, or chearful Days
Thou hast bestow'd, can give thee Praise.
No lusty Tree that near thee grows,
(Tho' it beneath thy Shelter rose)
Will to thy Age a Staff become.
Fall, wretched Building! to thy Tomb.
Thou, and thy painted Roofs, in Ruin mixt,
Fall to the Earth, for That alone is fixt.
The same, poor Man, the same must be
Thy Fate, now Fortune frowns on thee.
Her Favour ev'ry one pursues,
And losing Her, thou all must lose.
No Love, sown in thy prosp'rous Days,
Can Fruit in this cold Season raise:
No Benefit, by thee conferr'd,
Can in this time of Storms be heard.
All from thy troubl'd Waters run;
Thy stooping Fabrick all Men shun.
All do thy clouded Looks decline,
As if thou ne'er did'st on them shine.
O wretched Man! to other World's repair;
For Faith and Gratitude are only there.
poem by Anne Kingsmill Finch
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Storms In Africa - Part Ii
Though I walk through
Warm sands in africa
Winds will grow soon
To storms in africa.
How far to go
I cannot say.
How many more
Will journey this way?
Dark skies fall on
Black earth and ivory.
Far from your sun
Clouds now close over me.
How far to go
I cannot say.
How many more
Will journey this way?
Storms have come!
Rains wash the earth away
Dark skies fall down
Into another day.
Rains have now come
From storms in africa
Time will go on
Through storms in africa
song performed by by Enya
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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