My Friends Have Left Me
(after John Clare)
My friends have left me,
they do know me not
and at times I am struggling with my sanity
but there are still some words that I have got
while the sense of nothingness
envelops all of my world
and to everything I have a strange aloofness
while I am trying to hold
onto some kind of meaning
as my life under the whip of destiny bends
but it's at the edge of disaster that I am leaning
and it feels as if everything somehow ends
while instinctively I know
over the edge at a time I have got to go
[References: 'I am - yet what I am none cares or knows' by John Clare.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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I am tossed into a wretched life
(after John Clare)
I am tossed into a wretched life
where all my friends have forsaken me
and you whom I loved are only found in memory
while senses and sensibility is all at strive
and yet in this nothingness I am still alive,
but from hardship I am never free
and its only darkness that around me I see
but once you were my beloved wife
and now all my aims and esteems
are shattered, broken to pieces,
even our love, our joy and happiness
are swept away like broken dreams
while the darkness, the destruction increases
and people treat me with a kind of aloofness.
[Reference: “I am – yet what I am none cares or knows” by John Clare.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Written in Northampton County Asylum
I am! yet what I am who cares, or knows?
My friends forsake me like a memory lost.
I am the self-consumer of my woes;
They rise and vanish, an oblivious host,
Shadows of life, whose very soul is lost.
And yet I am—I live—though I am toss’d
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dream,
Where there is neither sense of life, nor joys,
But the huge shipwreck of my own esteem
And all that’s dear. Even those I loved the best
Are strange—nay, they are stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes where man has never trod—
For scenes where woman never smiled or wept—
There to abide with my Creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Full of high thoughts, unborn. So let me lie,—
The grass below; above, the vaulted sky.
poem by John Clare
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I Am
I am: yet what I am none cares or knows,
My friends forsake me like a memory lost;
I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost;
And yet I am! and live like shadows tossed
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
And e'en the dearest--that I loved the best--
Are strange--nay, rather stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes where man has never trod;
A place where woman never smil'd or wept;
There to abide with my creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept:
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie;
The grass below--above the vaulted sky.
poem by John Clare (1865)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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On The Edge Of The Edge Of The Edge
ON THE EDGE OF THE EDGE OF THE EDGE
On the edge of the edge of the edge
There is nowhere to go-
Home is lost,
And all the distances have broken down-
One cannot move
One can only fear-
On the edge of the edge of the edge
Falling is fear-
And holding one’s ground
One step at a time
Is a small miracle
One is not sure
One can make alone.
On the edge of the edge of the edge-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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At The Edge Of The Edge Of The Edge
AT THE EDGE OF THE EDGE OF THE EDGE
At the edge of the edge of the edge
There is another invisible edge
And this too has an edge and another edge
Edges unending
Beyond our comprehension
Waiting for us to fall down and down-
On the edge of the edge of the edge
I write on
Has the great descent already begun
And am I in the midst of it
As I pretend to go on?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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On The Edge Of My Old Age
ON THE EDGE OF MY OLD AGE
On the edge of my old age
A strange calm comes to me
I have done what I have done
Whatever it be.
On the edge of my old age
Anger is my soul
I have not climbed the mountain
And now I’m far too old.
On the edge of my old age
I still wait to see
What will become
Of all I dreamed.
On the edge of my old age
Joy in my life
I have written for years
And still love to write
On the edge of my old age
Still striving to be
I must strive with more courage
No matter what be
On the edge of my old age
The omnipresent fear
A pained burden forever
A mind unclear.
On the edge of my old age
Enjoying my little life
Praying for grandchildren
For my children and wife.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Instinct of Hope
Is there another world for this frail dust
To warm with life and be itself again?
Something about me daily speaks there must,
And why should instinct nourish hopes in vain?
'Tis nature's prophesy that such will be,
And everything seems struggling to explain
The close sealed volume of its mystery.
Time wandering onward keeps its usual pace
As seeming anxious of eternity,
To meet that calm and find a resting place.
E'en the small violet feels a future power
And waits each year renewing blooms to bring,
And surely man is no inferior flower
To die unworthy of a second spring?
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Arguably John Clare
In the English language the greatest poet of Nature is arguably John Clare
Many of his bird and animal and insect poems are gems beyond compare
Yet he died in Northampton mental asylum where he had lived for many years
He penned such marvellous poetry though his life was full of tears.
His Nature poems of the nineteenth century are relevant to today
The Badger and The Landrail, The Fox and Clock a Clay
The Pettichap, The Cuckoo and The Thrush's Nest
When Writing about Nature Clare was at his best.
In death the poor shepherd poet from Helpston has come into his own
His poems poetic classics around the World are known
The greatest Nature poet of England as many would agree
A poet for the ages from a life of poverty.
As a boy amongst Nature in the fields of Helpston he knew of happiness
But sad to think one like him in life did not know of success
With any English Nature poet he favourably does compare
The legendary one of Helpston the reamarkable John Clare.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Sinking..
Down in the water
By the edge of the river
where I ponder my life
just how did I get to this
Down in the water
By the edge of the river
where the waterfall of dreams
sweeps away what’s left to the abyss
Down in the water
by the edge of the river
where time stands still
Just only forever.
Down in the water
by the edge of the river
where I buried all
that was ever childhood
Where I let it go,
where it bends and meanders,
twisting along as the years went past.
Seemingly calm, but screaming beneath the surface
were its hidden whirlpools, a sweeping current
Down in the water,
I left the edge of the river,
as I looked down
for my soul at the bottom.
Deep in the water
Swept away by the river
I drowned in life,
......sinking forever.
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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A Most Famous I Am Poem
The most famous 'I Am' poem came from the pen of John Clare
When in Northampton mental asylum his type of person rare
Since when mentally unwell his best poems he did pen
One of the most amazing in his time of literary men.
The most famous 'I Am' poem of self does not boast
From the pen of one who to self never drunk a toast
A poor and mentally ill and near forgotten man
One close to the end of his tragic life span.
The most famous 'I Am' poem to it has a sad ring
'Tis not of the wonderful life it does sing
Now used as the anthem poem of the mentally ill
The most famous 'I Am' poem life's cup of dark sorrows does fill.
The most famous 'I Am' poem not a great song of life
But of one who had struggled with his inner strife
From the heart of a poor poet a cry of despair
The most famous 'I Am' poem from the pen of John Clare.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Old Year
The Old Year's gone away
To nothingness and night:
We cannot find him all the day
Nor hear him in the night:
He left no footstep, mark or place
In either shade or sun:
The last year he'd a neighbour's face,
In this he's known by none.
All nothing everywhere:
Mists we on mornings see
Have more of substance when they're here
And more of form than he.
He was a friend by every fire,
In every cot and hall -
A guest to every heart's desire,
And now he's nought at all.
Old papers thrown away,
Old garments cast aside,
The talk of yesterday,
All things identified;
But times once torn away
No voices can recall:
The eve of New Year's Day
Left the Old Year lost to all.
poem by John Clare
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Down in the deep water..
Down in the deep water
By the edge of the river
Where I ponder my life
Just how did I get to this
Down in the deep water
By the edge of the river
Where the waterfall of dreams
Sweeps away what’s left to the abyss
Down in the deep water
By the edge of the river
Where time stands still
just only forever.
Down in the deep water
By the edge of the river
Where I buried all
That was ever my childhood
Where I let it go,
Where it bends and meanders,
Twisting along as the years went past.
Seemingly calm, but screaming beneath the surface
Were its hidden whirlpools, a sweeping current
Down in the deep water,
I left the edge of the river,
As I looked down
For my soul at the bottom.
Deep in the deep water
Swept away by the river
I drowned in life,
......Sinking forever.
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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Who and what I am no one really knows
Who and what I am no one really knows
and the things in my mind
at times like a tornado blows
for a place of escape to find
into a world of bewildered noise
where my esteem and memories are lost
in a place without comfort or joys
where in shattered pieces my words are tossed
where even a whole religion spreads gossip and lies
while I try to walk with the creator God
they try to destroy my integrity, my humanity dies,
and friendless on uncharted ways I have to trod
while my own loved ones know me not,
do not even comprehend the thoughts that I have got.
[Reference: “I am – yet what I am none cares or knows” by John Clare.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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There Is A Void
There is a void, a sheer nothingness
that fills my life that is almost boundless
when you are away from me
when I see the world with a strange kind of aloofness
and in every misunderstanding
that is yearning for a kind of understanding,
there is something that is yearning for love
that comes selflessly and undemanding.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Edge Of A Broken Heart
And there I stood, just like a soldier
I was tough, until I saw her
I said hello, but she just turned away
Hey romeo, whatcha doin with my girl,
Who are you using now, well I turn and walk away (turn and walk away)
Im gonna please her, now you can believe it
Ill be there to catch her when she falls
Oooo, here I am (on the edge of a broken heart)
Im a man (on the edge of a broken heart)
Here we stand (on the edge of a broken heart)
So run if you can cause you know
Im a man on the edge (on the edge of a broken heart)
Im on the edge (on the edge of a broken heart)
Im on the outside, looking inside
Youre with him, whos on the wrong side now
Do you still think of me
Ive tried to call, but no one answers
Two silhouettes, a private dancer
Lights go dim, as the music starts to fade, away (turn and walk away)
Im the one who needs you, now you can believe it
Ill be there to catch you when you fall
Ooo you better believe Im the man (on the edge of a broken heart)
Here I am (on the edge of a broken heart)
And we stand (on the edge of a broken heart)
So run if you can cause you know
Im a man on the edge (on the edge of a broken heart)
Im on the edge (on the edge of a broken heart)
Solo
Ooohh
And when I hold out my hands Ill be reaching for you
I give it all that Ive got, thats all I can do
When youre waiting for love
Ill be waiting for you (on the edge of a broken heart)
Only for you (on the edge of a broken heart)
Oh baby for you (on the edge of a broken heart)
So run if you can, you know
Im a man on the edge (on the edge of a broken heart)
Im on the edge (on the edge of a broken heart)
Im on the edge (on the edge of a broken heart)
Im on the edge (of a broken, broken, broken broken, broken, broken, broken)
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Edge
The edge of the moment, the glory of the kill
Thirsting for excitement and hunger for the thrill
Screams around the corners
Sound like demons in the wind
Their voices pushing me to where Ive never been
(chorus)
A look at the cards and they just see the red
I say its all in the head
Fears a skin that you have to shed
If not youre better off dead
Times on the edge
Means Im on the edge of time...
Maybe no tomorrow I live my life today
Luck is my religion to the lady I will pray
I fear to see the black in every tinsel town
They an try and take my pride
But they can never take my crown
(chorus)
Times on the edge
Lifes full of time
Lifes in my head
Means Im on the edge of time...
song performed by by Motley Crue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The best way to avoid a bad action is by doing a good one, for there is no difficulty in the world like that of trying to do nothing.
quote by John Clare
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Razors Edge
(razors edge)
(razors)
Theres fighting on the left
And marching on the right
Dont look up in the sky
Youre gonna die of fright
Here comes the razors edge
Youre living on the edge
Dont know wrong from right
Theyre breathing down your neck
Youre running out of lives
And here comes the razors edge
Here comes the razors edge
The razors edge
Razors edge, to raise the dead
Razors edge, to cut to shreds
To raise the dead
Here comes the razors edge
Here comes the razors edge
Well here it comes to cut to shreds
The razors edge
The razors edge [its the razors edge]
Gotta razors edge [well, the razors edge]
Youll be cut to shreds [that youll be cut to shreds]
By the razors edge [gotta razors edge]
Gotta razors edge [by the razors edge]
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He could not die when trees were green, for he loved the time too well.
quote by John Clare
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If life had a second edition, how I would correct the proofs.
quote by John Clare
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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