Imploring To Be Resigned At Death
Let me die and not tremble at death,
But smile at the close of my day,
And then, at the flight of my breath,
Like a bird of the morning in May,
Go chanting away.
Let me die without fear of the dead,
No horrors my soul shall dismay,
And with faith's pillow under my head,
With defiance to mortal decay,
Go chanting away.
Let me die like a son of the brave,
And martial distinction display,
Nor shrink from a thought of the grave,
No, but with a smile from the clay,
Go chanting away.
Let me die glad, regardless of pain,
No pang to this world to betray;
And the spirit cut loose from its chain,
So loath in the flesh to delay,
Go chanting away.
Let me die, and my worst foe forgive,
When death veils the last vital ray;
Since I have but a moment to live,
Let me, when the last debt I pay,
Go chanting away.
poem by George Moses Horton
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Related quotes
Here I am- full moon poem
You are your own light
You are your own sun
You are a fullmoon poem
You are fresh air
You are pure earth
Light water and sky
All chanting
Chanting and chanting
A new life singing
Here I am
Do not forget to see me.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Guarded Religion
five buddhists chanting mantras down the hall
a young black man in the door way
tension in the atmosphere
I long to understand
why with such fear,
the entrance is guarded
and why with great hope, I've been misled
I demand to enter
I spew anger
with relentless screaming
confusion streaming
impatiently I push my way through
only to find
on the other side
no chanting
no buddhist monks
only me in eternal darkness
disappointed, I leave
not a word to the door man
with deepest regrets
I look back
to see the chanting
and the monks
in total isolation
the stern man...looks past me
Murderess
She looked at me, murdered me, roared at me;
It was clear, but she was rather reluctant to repeat.
I was glad to see her after the night,
Her development gained after the dawn.
She was coming towards me as fast as a spirit,
Wailing and echoing, chanting a song of higher horror.
She was like a ghost to me, easier to see than an invisible being
Wailing and chanting with the whole place to ourselves.
I waited for her to leave and give back my life.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Stop singing
Chanting memories
Traping self in the net
Tamebird stop singing.
Come to the forefront
Open mouth no word out
Chanting fails memories left.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Awaiting On You All
You dont need no love in
You dont need no bed pan
You dont need a horoscope or a microscope
The see the mess that youre in
If you open up your heart
You will know what I mean
Weve been polluted so long
Now heres a way for you to get clean
By chanting the names of the lord and youll be free
The lord is awaiting on you all to awaken and see
Chanting the names of the lord and youll be free
The lord is awaiting on you all to awaken and see
You dont need no passport
And you dont need no visas
You dont need to designate or to emigrate
Before you can see jesus
If you open up your heart
Youll see hes right there
Always was and will be
Hell relieve you of your cares
By chanting the names of the lord and youll be free
The lord is awaiting on you all to awaken and see
Chanting the names of the lord and youll be free
The lord is awaiting on you all to awaken and see
You dont need no church house
And you dont need no temple
You dont need no rosary beads or them books to read
To see that you have fallen
If you open up your heart
You will know what I mean
Weve been kept down so long
Someones thinking that were all green
And while the pope owns 51% of general motors
And the stock exchange is the only thing hes qualified to quote us
The lord is awaiting on you all to awaken and see
By chanting the names of the lord and youll be free
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Giorno dei Morti
Along the avenue of cypresses,
All in their scarlet cloaks and surplices
Of linen, go the chanting choristers,
The priests in gold and black, the villagers. . .
And all along the path to the cemetery
The round dark heads of men crowd silently,
And black-scarved faces of womenfolk, wistfully
Watch at the banner of death, and the mystery.
And at the foot of a grave a father stands
With sunken head, and forgotten, folded hands;
And at the foot of a grave a mother kneels
With pale shut face, nor either hears nor feels
The coming of the chanting choristers
Between the avenue of cypresses,
The silence of the many villagers,
The candle-flames beside the surplices.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Deviance
I embrace the darkness within
Forever serve beneath its hand
Horrid thoughts that surface to me
Ceremony bloods command
I will live through this forever
I have done the things you grieve
As you kneel before its evil
Death is here deep inside your
Skinned alive now naked
Terrorized no humanity
Seek salvation from an mia god
Empty vessels chanting for your death
Walk the streets beneath the shadows
Searching for a cryptic bride
Eat alive the conscience I hate
Without pain I watch you die
I will live through this forever
I have done the things you grieve
As you kneel before its evil
My face is the last you'll see
Soaked in blood the mask you wear
Haunting cries the dead scream for me
Staring eyes invoke no guilt
I can taste your mind your lifeless
Face the dead and dying
Feel your life drain
Through your soul
Seek salvation from an mia god
Empty vessels chanting for the dead
Death is yours
Your veins have dried
Staring eyes of glass now empty
Still you speak with lips so cold
In my head I hear you cry
God is dead can't save me
Taking lives with impunity
Resurrection of a deviant Christ
Feeding hate to capacity - deviance
song performed by by Slayer from God Hates Us All
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Abode Of Peace
Chanting God’s hymns proceed on right path;
Being fearless, truthful, devout derive mirth.
God assassinates the monsters;
Contents devotees’ desire.
Help the poor, destitute day and night;
Deriving God’s bliss live with delight.
God helps the poors day and night;
He is omniscient, omnipotent Almighty.
O devotees, help the poor patient;
Chanting hymns live with merriment.
God is our father;
Is our Director, Operator.
God bliss showers on the innocent devotees;
Chanting hymns women, men derive delight.
God attracts all devotees;
Is an Eternal Brook of Delight.
With his desire Earth is beautiful;
Singing devotional songs poets remain dutiful.
God helps all innocent creatures;
With profound love contents their desires.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Almighty
Chanting God’s hymns proceed on right path;
Being fearless, truthful, devout derive mirth.
God assassinates the monsters;
Contents devotees’ desire.
Help the poor, destitute day and night;
Deriving God’s bliss live with delight.
God helps the poors day and night;
He is omniscient, omnipotent Almighty.
O devotees, help the poor patient;
Chanting hymns live with merriment.
God is our father;
Is our Director, Operator.
God bliss showers on the innocent devotees;
Chanting hymns women, men derive delight.
God attracts all devotees;
Is an Eternal Brook of Delight.
With his desire Earth is beautiful;
Singing devotional songs poets remain dutiful.
God helps all innocent creatures;
With profound love contents their desires.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Ding-a-ling, Dingdong-bell, Singalong - Loner Is A Mourner!
All alone, aside, aground, bays an empty soul nameless,
Afloat, adrift, awash, says a goose egg shameless,
In thoughts - I'm lost, tattles an barren vessel aimless.
I'm with me yet alone - rattles a hollow skull rudderless!
Alone I cried again and again chanting a sullen rhyme -
Ding-a-ling, dingdong bell, singalong - loner is a mourner.
I talk and walk, lacking hope - lying in the corner;
Alone in woe - a clumsy, discombobulated flesh
Trying to fill a flimsy and distorted mesh. Yes I do
The donkeywork at a place, yet a sojourner, lo!
Alone I cried again and again chanting a sullen rhyme -
Ding-a-ling, dingdong bell, singalong - loner is a mourner.
Alone I flew in ruefulness, I - a Ruta graveolens!
I woke up to find my soul loitering in woods dense,
A glider without target yet a hogwash and trumpery.
I'm a writer with no imagination yet a gimcrackery,
Alone I cried again and again chanting a sullen rhyme -
Ding-a-ling, dingdong bell, singalong - loner is a mourner.
I'm an apple pale with no charm, landing alone,
I'm a sullen moon in a galaxy of stars, standing alone:
To pull iron curtain - waiting alone for crack of doom,
To seal my fate - sighting alone for the doomsday.
Alone I cried again and again chanting a sullen rhyme -
Ding-a-ling, dingdong bell, singalong, loner is a mourner.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>THE END>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
poem by Harindhar Reddy
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Ding-a-ling! Dingdong Bell! Singalong, 'Loner is a Mourner'!
All alone, aside, aground, bays an empty soul - nameless,
Afloat, adrift, awash, says an empty ghoul - shameless!
In thoughts - I am lost, tattles an empty vessel - aimless,
I am with me yet all alone, rattles an empty skull - rudderless!
Alone I cried again and again chanting a sullen rhyme -
Ding-a-ling! Dingdong bell! Singalong, 'Loner is a Mourner'!
I talk, I walk yet I lack hope lying in the corner;
Alone in woe: I'm a clumsy, discombobulated flesh;
See! I'm trying to fill a flimsy, distorted mesh;
Lo! I do the donkeywork at a place, yet a sojourner!
Alone I cried again and again chanting a sullen rhyme -
Ding-a-ling! Dingdong bell! Singalong, 'Loner is a Mourner'!
Alone I flew in ruefulness, I, a Ruta graveolens!
I woke and find my soul loitering in woods - dense,
I'm a glider without destination yet a hogwash and trumpery!
I'm a writer with no imagination, yet a nonsense gimcrackery,
Alone I cried again and again chanting a sullen rhyme -
Ding-a-ling! Dingdong bell! Singalong, 'Loner is a Mourner'!
I am an apple pale with no charm, landing alone,
I am a sullen moon in a galaxy of stars, standing alone:
To meet a certain heavy fate - waiting alone for a judgment day,
To pull iron curtain and seal my fate - sighting alone for doomsday,
Alone I cried again and again chanting a sullen rhyme -
Ding-a-ling! Dingdong bell! Singalong, 'Loner is a Mourner'!
poem by Harindhar Reddy
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While it is alive
491
While it is alive
Until Death touches it
While it and I lap one Air
Dwell in one Blood
Under one Sacrament
Show me Division can split or pare—
Love is like Life—merely longer
Love is like Death, during the Grave
Love is the Fellow of the Resurrection
Scooping up the Dust and chanting "Live"!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Beldame of Death
A crunch: afoot a dead arachnid
Spanning once a serving plate –
Oh! that others be alive
With such as me for spider bait!
I slunk along the silent hall
Of ancient ore attired in grime –
Feculent beyond the nose;
No bearing here, nor feel for time.
I shuddered in appreciation –
The ambience would mortify
A feeble mind, aghast, opined
Of murky thought, and typify
The will of Belial err I brought
Upon myself to loathe and dread
Exquisite retribution: to linger
Oftentimes alive, then dead.
Compulsion saw me edging on
Toward a narrow door of oak.
Behind, I knew, a greater evil
Waiting in her fusty cloak.
A choice of nil upon the table;
Aught of leave, I had to face
Alone the shrew – her flaming aura
Angling me; my deep disgrace
From ugly deeds I dealt in life,
A heinous world I honed in glee…
'Now take a crooked path to death,
For I have come to torture thee! '
Out of eyes of orange flame,
A piercing glare, then here it came –
The cackling cry of chanting song:
'You thought you'd die alone in pain
The once – nay nay! you'll die with me,
And so a catch: you'll die again
Ad infinitum - ever be!
Your soul to curse, my heart we'll gore,
Your liver to draw and quarter;
A sadomasochistic pair,
We'll slither together in slaughter! '
I answered only with a scream, from
Sensing near her craving lust.
My crimes to answer; wrongs annul;
Renounce my soul and turn to dust...
On an evening cool and quiet,
Stretch an ear to listen tight –
Are you lucky of a moment –?
Hark! my clarion call of plight.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Notes on this poem can be found at:
http: //succumbedtothinking.webs.com/featuredpoems.htm
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Can You Turn?
Can you turn from the sword
that invites-please
'Hang upon me? '
Or shrink back from the
boasting pool that whispers
'Jump'
But I am afraid of blood which
makes me sick
Scalding water on tender skin-
It is terrible, terrible, terrible
Faith is useless here:
I tell you this, it is no illusion
The blood is real and so is the bubbling water
Look carefully:
Behind the road you trod;
rubbed out
Do you believe me?
Look at me!
'Speaking'
But you couldn't... trees they
Were too thick.. they went by
Chanting, chanting, chanting:
It's fine It's fine It's fine
Jump in, jump in, jump in -
But I'm already - splashing, splashing, splashing
Must I beat my way to the riverbank
to prove I'm wet
Outrage danced on my lips, that
Sputtered and danced
Can You Turn?
And around the bend came the
voices fainter and fainter
'the water - the water - the water
is fine
jump in- jump in - jump in-
And no more I was free! !
I dipped my hand in the water
And the drops ran out of
my fingers - the sun lit
into my throat -
What a wonderful, wonderful day
for knowing I thought
'What a wonderful, wonderful place for swimming'
I murmured
And it was true: the water
was cream and silk
The sky was bright as disaster
Suppose they came back?
Suppose they came back!
Was the mutter that crinkled the
edges of being
But the water smoothed in
over the sunshine
'False friends' 'Deceitful loves'
Who has not known these
the world over?
Does it then blot out the sun! ? !
And dry up the river?
Can You Turn?
Jump in, my dear, my dears
my dears-
The water is fine, it's fine, it's
fine
The water- the water- the water
The whisper is treading water
with no body
and not convinced -
But I will learn
I will Learn.... I will learn
Some day I may lead the
chanters myself
Yes it's well to have marching
feet and banners
Even with this
'The water is fine, jump in, '
they cried
Its fine, its fine, its fine
jump in- jump in- jump in
'But I'm already in, ' I screamed
'can't you see, can't you see,
can't you see? '
poem by Isabelle Cooper
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The voice of the Poor
when everything looses its taste and vengeance cloth the
agony of the heart, the gnashing of teeth birth the beginning
of hatred, and the sting of death lives with thy soul, through
out generation to come
every faith challenge the discernment of the heart, living behind
the tears of the innocent, that calls the coolness of a stumble
heart, sprouted like an incense fume, chanting the bravery of
fear
as the eyes sees the suffering of the soul, the venue settled
down an avenue of loosing one's life, an experience of thy heart
that lives beyond man's personal conviction to die, even death
is not an option just to rise an honor to what faith calls
as the ladder of pain hurts the shadow of death, the will to live
is beyond compare, to shed blood, is what it is call, living
through dying is the only wisdom to live in harmony to every
man's faith
life is a call, to gain the fame of living is to give what is best in
life, it is in a small thing you give that, life brings us to see
and find the meaning of what is life...... a call to live
poem by Antonio Liao
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A Hand For My Perfect End
Does it hurt so bad
So much to make you mad?
Does it rip your heart apart
So that your strenght depart?
Does it wear you inside out
And bring your tears running south?
Yes! It does more to me
For all the good there be
It turns my sweat crimson flood
And my wounded soul dripping blood
Yet through the death of some of me
Even in the midst of my solemn plea
I find this strenght within
And a voice chanting ' thou shall win'
So out with those pain and sweat- turned red
Out with those heat and south bound tears
Even my wounded soul that bled
And the host of my mortal fears
All shall this moment lend
A hand for my perfect end
poem by Okonkwo Osamedua. Allen
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On The Balcony Of The Casa Rosada 1
(peron has just won a sweeping victory in the 1946 presidential
Election. this is the first public appearance by peron and eva
Since that triumph.)
(announcer:)
People of argentina
Your newly elected president, juan peron
(crowd chanting:)
[peron peron ... ]
(peron:)
Argentinos, argentinos
We are all workers now
Fighting against our common enemies
Poverty, social injustice
Foreign domination of our industries
Reaching for our common goals
Our independence, our dignity, our pride
Let the world know that our great nation is awakening
And that its heart beats in the humble bodies
Of juan peron and his wife
The first lady of argentina, eva duarte de peron
(crowd chanting:)
[evita evita ... ]
song performed by by Madonna
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sea War's Widow
The sea sleeps with silent battles,
Such force met with the waiting widow.
Her smile as slow as the tides, rising.
She tunes her patience with stormy petrel songs
And here she accompanies hope,
Warm, in her blanket of dreams,
Eyeing the sea, the husband,
And its raging possibilities.
And here the sea returns her smile
Chanting her husband’s name,
His path, his death, his victories.
Rising and rolling and breaking,
Polishing his name like a spear
Straight through her hopes.
And she cries.
poem by Masiela Lusha
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mountaintop at dawn
a monk and spring breeze
chanting 'World Peace'
haiku by Chenou Liu
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I got that idea from being in India. I always like the chanting.
quote by Ray Davies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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