En.Citatepedia^®.ro

a Toll to pay

I killed them and still
they rose to haunt me
in my sleep
and death’s hand
tortured me.

I tried to let it die
with time,
but it lingered
deep within my soul.

They called it peace
but never could
warriors keep,
the personal fatalities
of war away.

In my agony
I tried to forget,
but the demons
imbedded into me
did not want to rest.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Immortals

I killed them, but they would not die.
Yea! all the day and all the night
For them I could not rest or sleep,
Nor guard from them nor hide in flight.

Then in my agony I turned
And made my hands red in their gore.
In vain - for faster than I slew
They rose more cruel than before.

I killed and killed with slaughter mad;
I killed till all my strength was gone.
And still they rose to torture me,
For Devils only die in fun.

I used to think the Devil hid
In women’s smiles and wine’s carouse.
I called him Satan, Balzebub.
But now I call him, dirty louse.

poem by Isaac Rosenberg
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Let The Night Sleep

Let the night sleep
Sleep for ever deep
With the night I sleep
Beyond the world to peep
Universe will sleep
Plants and trees
Birds and bees
Stars and moon
To sleep very soon!
Fruits and flowers
Joy with showers
Will sleep with me and the night
Not to keep the life very tight!
No dawn of the day
Right upto the dooms day!
Sleep permanent
In the world impermanent
I'll sleep without light
My agonies will sleep
My worries will sleep
My pains will sleep
My sins will sleep!

While in sleep
I am pure
I am peace
I am noble!

While my body is asleep
Awake my soul I keep
Sleep akin to death
Death akin to sleep in mirth?

Let the night sleep
Sleep for ever deep
With night I sleep
Sleep to eternity
Soul to merge in Divinity!

poem by Subbaraman N V
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It's Your Soul

I'm feeling the stress
I'm feeling the pressure
It's setting in
It's breaking me down
I don't know how much longer I can take it
I don't know how much more I can take
I'm seeing the end of myself
I'm seeing that this is all I got
Man I'm depressed
Man I cant do this

I'd never say it out loud, but this is too much
My friend are great they help me forget
I turn to my sins, to my addictions
It's turning me into an empty person
This pressure will break me
I won't say it out loud but I can't take it anymore
I won't say it out loud but this is true horror
I dress it up, I put on a smile, I deaden the pain for awhile
But it's all an act
The pain is quite real
I say I'm tired
And yeah I got no rest
I say I'm sleep deprived, and believe me I don't sleep
But even in my quiet hours...
There is no peace
I say I'm sleep deprived, but it doesn't matter how much I sleep
I'm still tired
It's a never ending tiredness
The feeling is wearing me out
Wearing me out
Until I'm just
Weary
There is no sleep in sleeping
There is no rest and resting
I can't find peace in inner peace
I can't find peace in outer peace
A vacation won't do
So I tell you

It's your soul
The tiredness
It's your soul
The weariness
It's your soul
The depression and longing for more
It's your soul
The brokenness and stress
It's your soul
Feeling like you can't do it
It's your soul
Feeling overwhelmed because it's all too much to handle
It's your soul
The reason you're restless even in times of rest is because
It's your soul

The tiredness and brokenness is in your soul
So let go for once
So let God for once
This problem is deep inside
And no matter how hard you try to hide
You need help
Because it's your soul
So let Jesus restore your soul, because that's rest
So let God give you peace, because He's the only one who can
So let the Holy Spirit comfort you, because He'll mend your soul
It's funny that we always look forward to this vacation or the next
It's funny that we think there's an end to the stress
It's funny that we think we're tired because we don't sleep
It's funny we don't realize we're lost sheep
Because the problem is our soul
Go to Jesus because He promises

'Come to me all who are weary and heavy laden with burden and I will give you rest...'

poem by David Knox
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Peace to the world....

Peace to the world
Like a flower in the sky
Peace
Peace-overcoming evil with good be
Peace

Give me peace I won't cry anymore
White dove symbol of peace
Peace can be found deep down in the heart
Peace in the winds that sleep upon the deep

I want peace
Peace in my personal space
I want peace in my feelings
Cloth me in white
The color of peace....

poem by Anees Akbar
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Monsters of the Night

Inner demons who seem to rule my fate
for me I feel its far to late
for deep within they always hide
these monsters eating away at me from the inside

inner demons that scream
my thoughts some how not what they seem
monsters that creep out at night
Oh hell! ! this does not feel right

inner demons, please find another soul to torment
for me this torture is no longer meant
My deeply feared monsters of the dark
here no longer will you park

inner demons leave me be
my scary monsters of the night
I beg of you, please finally let me be
for my soul craves, needs the much healing light

inner demons, cast yourselves away
no longer do I want you to have any say
monsters who taint my soul to black
no longer will you haunt, for I will someday find my way back!

poem by Jill Ferrey
Submitted by anonym
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I Bought You A Rose

the problem is
the grandfather clock
in the adjacent room
it chimes
on the hour
every hour
through the night
it keeps me awake
through the night
the night in which
i think of you
because
i hold the rose
in my hand
through the night
the rose that i bought you
in the afternoon
the rose that you did not want
in the evening
the evening when i took you out
and you said
you did not want the rose
you wanted it to be over between us
you said it was no use
a rose was no use
a rose could not
bring us together
a rose could not
keep us together
a rose by any other name
is still just a rose
you said
i should keep my rose
you said
you said it when i offered you the rose
you said it again
when the evening was over
when we left each other
and so i took it home
the rose that i bought you
i thought of you
on my way home
with the rose
i thought of how it had been
between us
i thought of how it might have been
between us
i tried to forget
how it had been
between us
i tried to forget
how it might have been
between us
but the rose reminded me
how it was
between us
i took the rose with me
when i got into bed
when i tried to sleep
it had been deep red
but it seemed to me
now it was not so deep red
as it had been before
each time i woke
i looked at the rose
each time it seemed
not so deep red
as it had been before
each time it seemed
a little more faded
a little more dry
a little less red
a little less fresh
each time
its scent also
had been beautiful
like you were beautiful
its scent also seemed to me
a little more faded
a little less fresh
a little less beautiful
a little less able
to evoke you
a little less able
to keep you
to keep your memory
alive
alive in the night
even when i turned on the light
to look again
at the rose
to inhale again
the perfume of the rose
i saw it fading
i saw you fading
i saw your beauty fading
through the night
and i saw that you were right
about the rose
that a rose is just a rose
that a rose could not
bring us together
that a rose could not
keep us together
that a rose by any other name
is still just a rose
that you by any other name
are still just a rose
fading through the night
i cannot keep you
for i cannot keep you
from fading through the night
like this rose i bought you
like any rose
like anything i ever bought you

the problem is
the grandfather clock
in the adjacent room
it chimes
on the hour
every hour
through the night

poem by Rory Hudson
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Australia Vindex

Who cometh from fields of the south
With raiment of weeping and woe,
And a cry of the heart in her mouth,
And a step that is muffled and slow?
Her paths are the paths of the sun;
Her house is a beautiful light;
But she boweth her head, and is one
With the daughters of dolour and night.

She is fairer than flowers of love;
She is fiercer than wind-driven flame;
And God from His thunders above
Hath smitten the soul of her shame.

She saith to the bloody one curst
With the fever of evil, she saith
“My sorrow shall strangle thee first
With an agony wilder than death!

“My sorrow shall hack at thy life!
Thou shalt wrestle with wraiths of thy sin,
And sleep on a pillow of strife
With demons without and within!”

She whispers, “He came to the land
A lord and a lover of me—
A son of the waves with a hand
As fearless and frank as the sea.

“On the shores of the stranger he stood
With the sweetness of youth on his face;
Till there started a fiend from the wood,
Who stabbed at the peace of the place!

“Because of the dastardly thing
Thou hast done in the sight of the day,
All horrors that sicken and sting
Shall make thee for ever their prey.

“Because of the beautiful trust
Destroyed by a devil like thee,
Thy bed shall be low in the dust
And my heel as a shackle shall be!

“Because” (and she mutters it deep
Who curseth the coward in chains)
“Thou hast stricken and murdered our sleep,
Thy sleep shall be perished with pains;

“Thy sleep shall be broken and sharp
And filled with fierce spasms and dreams,
And shadow shall haunt thee and harp
On hellish and horrible themes!

“I will set my right hand on thy neck
And my foot on thy body, nor bate,
Till thy name shall become as a wreck
And a byword for hisses and hate!”

poem by Henry Kendall
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The Magnetic Lady To Her Patient

I.
'Sleep, sleep on! forget thy pain;
My hand is on thy brow,
My spirit on thy brain;
My pity on thy heart, poor friend;
And from my fingers flow
The powers of life, and like a sign,
Seal thee from thine hour of woe;
And brood on thee, but may not blend
With thine.

II.
'Sleep, sleep on! I love thee not;
But when I think that he
Who made and makes my lot
As full of flowers as thine of weeds,
Might have been lost like thee;
And that a hand which was not mine
Might then have charmed his agony
As I another's--my heart bleeds
For thine.

III.
'Sleep, sleep, and with the slumber of
The dead and the unborn
Forget thy life and love;
Forget that thou must wake forever;
Forget the world's dull scorn;
Forget lost health, and the divine
Feelings which died in youth's brief morn;
And forget me, for I can never
Be thine.

IV.
'Like a cloud big with a May shower,
My soul weeps healing rain
On thee, thou withered flower!
It breathes mute music on thy sleep
Its odour calms thy brain!
Its light within thy gloomy breast
Spreads like a second youth again.
By mine thy being is to its deep
Possessed.

V.
'The spell is done. How feel you now?'
'Better—Quite well,' replied
The sleeper.--'What would do
You good when suffering and awake?
What cure your head and side?--'
‘What would cure, that would kill me, Jane:
And as I must on earth abide
Awhile, yet tempt me not to break
My chain.'

poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Holy Sonnet X: Death Be Not Proud

Death, be not proud, though some have callèd thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which yet thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more, must low
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings and desperate men
And dost with poison, war and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then ?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

poem by John Donne
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Hell Awaits

[Backwards: "Join us" x times]
[Welcome back]

Existing on damnation's edge
The priest had never known
To witness such a violent show
Of power overthrown

Angels fighting aimlessly
Still dying by the sword
Our legions killing all in sight
To get the one called Lord

The Gates of Hell lie waiting as you see
There's no price to pay just follow me
I can take your lost soul from the grave
Jesus knows your soul can not be saved

Crucify the so called Lord
He soon shall fall to me
Your souls are damned your God has fell
To slave for me eternally
Hell awaits...

The Reaper guard's the darkened Gates
That Satan calls his home
Demons feed the furnace where
The Dead are free to roam

Lonely children of the night
There's seven ways to go
Each leading to the burning hole
The Lucifer controls

Priests of Hades seek the sacred star
Satan sees the answer lies not far
Zombies screaming souls cry out to you
Satanic laws prevail your life is through

Pray to the moon... when it is round
Death with you shall then abound
What you seek... for can't be found
In sea or sky or underground

Now I have you deep inside my everlasting grasp
The seven bloody Gates of Hell
Is where you'll live your last

Warriors from Hell's Domain
Will bring you to your Death
The flames of Hades burning strong
Your soul shall never rest

The Gates of Hell lie waiting as you see
There's no price to pay just follow me
I can take your lost soul from the grave
Jesus knows your soul can not be saved

Sacrifice the lives of all I know they
Soon shall die
Their souls are damned to rot in Hell
and keep the fire growing deep inside
Hell awaits...

song performed by by Slayer from Hell Awaits
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Holy Sonnet X:Death be not proud

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

poem by John Donne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Holy Sonnet X

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

poem by John Donne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What dreams may come?

I fear to sleep for dreams may come
which force me to relive again.
Dark memories which aren’t welcome.
Such dreams can drive a man insane.
Things I have done which I regret.
Long years ago and far away.
Some things it’s better to forget
Spring forth to haunt me still today.

Sometimes you do not have a choice.
No time to think you just react.
You pull the trigger and rejoice
that you shot first and that’s a fact.
You have shot dead some innocent
mistaken for an enemy.
It’s just another incident
embedded in your memory.

I’m tired and I fain would rest
but peace of mind’s denied to me.
Such recollections deep imprest
can’t be erased from memory.
Odd times I can sleep peacefully
with no bad dreams to cause distress.
I fall asleep eventually
Anaesthetised by weariness.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Evil Time Place Person Past Era Convict

this is the great age instant
the time is now now now now
personal satisfaction instant
is believed perceived relieved
in instant access on line now
games games games trends
now now now twitter facebook
escape from past never look
back into demons of time past

in the past I don't
believe in the past
mottoes transcend
raw responsibilities
memories ignored
demons not executed
binding by oath don’t
review pain raw past
deaths not appeased

exorcism exorcismus must
religious practice demons evict
war crimes time place haunt
spiritual entities ghosts haunt
a person a place evil site haunt
dark spirit demon possessed
spiritual beliefs each exorcist
expel past horror appease past
take crime to court appease past

causing entity to swear oath now
perform an elaborate ritual convict
simply judge command sentence now
crime depart in justice time court now
in name of present higher power convict
exorcism practice is time psyche ancient
cultures religions belief system exorcist
feelings gone suppressed bite hurt haunt
nothing to do with me any more now evict

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Holy Sonnet 10 - Death be not proud

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy picture[s] be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou'rt slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more, Death, thou shalt die.

poem by John Donne from Holy Sonnets
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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In deep sleep

In deep sleep
I weep warm
Words of wooing you.

In deep sleep
I dream of
Men enlighten
Alone quickly
Come back to earth.

In deep sleep
My causal body
Sweat the sweet
Soul that dwells
Beneath the veiling-power
Of my holy approaches
To man and nature of the
Natural earth.

In deep sleep
My elements of mind
Rhyme all the time.
About bold black boy’s
Muscles active
In their enjoyed greatness.
In deep sleep
I am absorbed by my sense-organs
I am elemental
Holding death within me.

poem by David E. Patton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dream Fulfilled

What happens to a dream fulfilled?
Does it stay fulfilled?
Does it go up in flame?
Like a inflammation from combustion
Or hiss enlongated and piercing
And left blazed and indifferent?
Does it howl in the hours of darkness
Like a tortured soul in agony?

Maybe it doesn't hurt and is left unfelt
Like death while sleep
Or does it just float away?

poem by Kendrick Johnson
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Just One Rose...

that's a homework i need you to tell me if i should hand it to the teacher or not...(:

just one rose, a pretty rose...
just one rose for me with no coze...
just one rose pure and true...
just one rose for me is all i can do...

just one rose somewhere out there...
just one rose for me to care...
just one rose when dark days prevail...
just one rose when people only use petrail...

just one rose and all the time...
just one rosefor me is a crime...

poem by rose of death XxX
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Specters Overcome

The pain of life ebbing,
coaxes forth vocal declarations.
Alien to one's true character,
as the mind ravaged by infirmity.

By specters, rationality over run.
At the tottering sense of logic, demons feed.
Control of all response ceded unwillingly,
to gargoyles and despots of vile intent.

Such display alien, to sane normalcy.
All without depressed disdain, suffer naught.
Lend your prayers with those of others
this malice, by warriors of virtue conquered.

Be it known to those who mourn.
Spirit warriors of the Supreme, stand ready.
With sword's flashing blades bared.
To escort stalwart legionnaire home.

Let it be well remembered by all.
As the soul ascends to purer station,
left to view naught but, empty shell.
Play space for those, yet to be vanquished.

Rest assured, when the battle is won.
Those demons who ravaged, suffering souls.
They will be banished, driven away.
Peace, stricken souls will at last know.
08Nov09

poem by Kurt Hearth
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Intoxicated

Robbed of the soul, live in hell.
Rise above the charred beleaving smell.
Rise above the souls chalky chains.
Give the destiny what its named.
The darkest white brought in death below thats soon to come.
Rise above the dark demons tower.
Your body seized the charge.
Youve killed yourself.
Killed. killed yourself.
Rotting the soul to live. ranting, shes one to give. darkening your soul to wane. ranting, shes soon to gain.
Rotting above the tide. ranting, shes holding time. killing their souls in pain. ranting, shes one to gain.

song performed by by Obituary
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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