For a War Memorial
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The hucksters haggle in the mart
The cars and carts go by;
Senates and schools go droning on;
For dead things cannot die.
A storm stooped on the place of tombs
With bolts to blast and rive;
But these be names of many men
The lightning found alive.
If usurers rule and rights decay
And visions view once more
Great Carthage like a golden shell
Gape hollow on the shore,
Still to the last of crumbling time
Upon this stone be read
How many men of England died
To prove they were not dead.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
For a War Memorial
The hucksters haggle in the mart
The cars and carts go by;
Senates and schools go droning on;
For dead things cannot die.
A storm stooped on the place of tombs
With bolts to blast and rive;
But these be names of many men
The lightning found alive.
If usurers rule and rights decay
And visions view once more
Great Carthage like a golden shell
Gape hollow on the shore,
Still to the last of crumbling time
Upon this stone be read
How many men of England died
To prove they were not dead.
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Return Of Pan
I stood upon the balcony with my brand new bride
The clink of bells came drifting down the mountainside
When in our sight something moved
- lightning eyed and cloven hooved -
The great God pan is alive!
He moves amid the modern world in disguise
Its possible to look into his immortal eyes
Hes like a man youd meet anyplace
Until you recognise that ancient face
The great God pan is alive!
At sea on a ship in a thunder storm
On the very night that christ was born
A sailor heard from overhead
A mighty voice cry pan is dead!
So follow christ as best you can
Pan is dead! long live pan!
From the olden days and up through all the years
From arcadia to the stone fields of inisheer
Some say the gods are just a myth
But guess who Ive been dancing with
The great God pan is alive!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wait, things are shaping up
I approached a sculptor the other day
For carving a statue of
Gautama Buddha
He asked me a number of questions
Some of them were far stretched
Though I answered all of them
I was thinking within that
All these details were unnecessary
He could read my mind and said
These details were needed to help me
Come out with what exactly you were looking for
He suggested my coming to him
Two weeks later
Why so long and he said
Wait things are shaping up
Two weeks later
I saw practically no progress
He showed me a granite block
Which he said he would carve
As Gautama Buddha
He suggested me to visit him
Two weeks later
“Do you not think we are delaying? ”
I asked and he said
Wait things are shaping up
I went to him as suggested
No change at all
The block was under water
And carving had not started
He said that this curing process
Would help him understand
The quality of the block
And he opined
That we were lucky in
Selecting the right granite
And he suggested my visiting him
A week later
“Yes, I know you are wondering
As to why it is taking so much time”
How he could say even without my telling that
He continued
Wait, things are shaping up
A week later
No great change
But the block got castled here and there
No where near my expectations
“Come after three days and see”
But, he assured
Wait, things are shaping up
I made four visits later
At intervals of three, two and one days
I could not make out head or tail
Of what was happening
But, each time I returned
Hearing his words
Wait, things are shaping up
I was wondering
Are things really shaping up
Or am I being fooled
I did not visit him for
Full three months
As I was sure that
I would not be able to appreciate
The progress that the sculptor
Would be claiming to have made
One day, there was a call from him
“Come and see your Gautama Buddha”
I was not excited
I visited his place in all reluctance
And was preparing to hear
Wait, things are shaping up
But, what a surprise
Saw my Gautama Buddha
In a shape and carving
Beyond my belief
And I was not able to control my excitement
“I know you are wondering how this could be possible
But, you know, I was telling each time you visited that
Wait, things are shaping up”
We all do prayers seeking some change
And we wonder as to when the change would fructify
God, like a sculptor is shaping things
But, he never tells
Wait, things are shaping up
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dead Or Alive
There in the shadows, looks like a hand
Without its owner, to give it a command
Its got a purpose but I dont know what it is
Im in trouble
There in the streets, looks like a man
But something wrong that I dont understand
His eyes are open but he dont see a thing
His skin is peeling off, his bones are sticking out
Im getting scared
Oh my God (is it dead? )
Is it living? (is it dead? )
Is it dead or alive?
(is it dead? ), is it dead? (is it dead? )
Is it dead? (is it dead? )
Is it dead or alive?
Hiding in the cupboards, like little mice
Hiding in the frigerator, that isnt nice
Its not an animal, it dont have legs
No one else can see it
It moves so fast, corner of my eye
Look again its gone, its hiding
Wont somebody help me, doesnt anybody care?
It waits so patiently, for me to lose my guard
Im getting scared
Is it dead, is it
(is it dead)
Is it dead
(is it dead)
Is it dead or alive
(is it dead)
Is it dead
(is it dead)
Is it dead, is it
I remember there was a time
When dead and buried meant just that
Underneath the cold dark ground
Things stay put!
Oh them bones they make them bodies walk
Them bones, them bones
If they could only talk!
Is it dead (fade)
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hollow Life
Feeding the fall
I can't help but desire of falling down this time
Deep in this hole am I making
I can't escape
Falling all this time
We come to this place
Falling through time
Living a hollow life
Always we're taking
Waiting for signs
Hollow life
Fearing to fall
And still the ground below me calls
Falling down this time
Ripping apart all these things I have tried to stop
Falling down this time
We come to this place
Falling through time
Living a hollow life
Always we're taking
Waiting for signs
Hollow life
Is there ever any wonder
Why we look to the sky
Search space
Asking why?
All alone
where is God?
Looking down
We don't know
We fall in space
We can't look down
Death may come
Peace I have found
What to say
Am I alive?
Am I asleep
Or have I died?
(Haunting me)
We fall in space
We can't look down
Death may come
Peace I have found
(Something takes a part of me)
What to say
Am I alive?
Am I asleep
We fall down
We come to this place
Falling through time
Living a hollow life
Always we're taking
Waiting for signs
Hollow life
song performed by by Korn from Untouchables
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little By Little
Poor man's anger rising.
The ostrich hides his head.
Soon the red blood will be boiling.
And blue blood will be dead.
While we say.
(chorus)
Little by little by little,
And stone by stone.
Rich man's mountain comes crumbling down
Poor boy sleeps on straw,
The rich boy sleeps in bed.
That fat boy fills his belly,
My poor boys's a dead,
While we say.
(chorus)
Little by little by little,
And stone by stone.
Rich man's mountain comes crumbling down.
The rich man drives his car past,
The poor man on bare feet.
That rich man do get what he wants
The poor must know defeat,
While we say.
(chorus)
Little by little by little,
And stone by stone.
Rich man's mountain comes crumbling down.
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Suggested
Today...
It is not appropriate to be honest.
Or imply it in retrospect.
We live in times
In which truth is deluded,
With a mixture of suggestions...
Followed by denials confessed!
Suggested is our need for patience...
To allow inconsistency to cease.
Suggested is a resistance...
To want a stop to fighting,
That only increases the movement of the weak.
Suggested is a greatness kept,
By the spilling of blood and sorrows wept.
Suggested is we maintain,
A mental stressing drain!
To keep thieves looting resources...
And driving those of consciousness,
Further into an abyss!
Today...
It is not appropriate to be honest.
Or imply it in retrospect.
We live in times
In which truth is deluded,
With a mixture of suggestions...
Followed by denials confessed!
And deeper with resolutions,
Providing an absence of thoughtful solutions...
Are those who lead pleading,
We can succeed by sheer request!
And that's all they are suggesting we do...
As those who view ahead of us coming,
A deadend awaiting with an awarded mess!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Decay Lives
Behind the void - Where darkness fills black to give birth to the shade of grey - Fear is being stalked by Decay - Predatory sickness which morals onto nothing - Transfixed by the stench of the dead - Alive by feeding for millenium on death - Purer by the extreme conditioning where there is nowhere to find - If you do, you will find decay - Next to the living, alive in death - Alive by being dead.
poem by Unic Cjonr
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I'm Alive (That Was The Day My Dead Pet Returned To Save My Life)
I was just kicking down the street
And the sun was in my eyes
So I couldn't see the truck
That was sixty times my size
And just seconds off from splattering me
Let me tell you
I was so scared I couldn't move
Like my boots were full of glue
Then I felt a little tug
And I thought of good Old Blue
And he pulled me from that catastrophe
That was the day
My dead pet returned to save my life
I'm alive
He's alive
I'm alive
I was spitting in the canyon
Near the cliff up on the mountain
When an unexpected sneeze
Hung me in the breeze
At forty five degrees in the sky
Suddenly I felt something
Had me by the belt
And in between my praying
Swore I heard a stallion neighing
Was the ghost of my horse
And I cried, yes I cried
That was the day
My dead pet returned to save my life
That was the day
My dead pet returned to save my life
I'm alive
He's alive
Hey, I'm alive
Things were getting gory
Got caught on territory
Belonging to the Crutches
In an alley in their clutches
Looking kind of dismal that night
Well the leader's name was Fats
Swinging broken baseball bats
Things got really frantic
Starting jumping in their panic
That was the day
My dead pet returned to save my life
That was the day
My dead pet returned to save my life
I'm alive, I'm alive, real alive
That was the day my dead pet returned
That was the day my dead pet returned
That was the day my dead pet returned
That was the day my dead pet returned
To save my life
Hallucinating billions of rats
Lots of rats
I'm alive, I'm alive
He's alive, he's alive, he's alive
I'm alive, yeah
He's alive, he's alive
I'm alive, real alive
Alive, alive, alive
Alive, alive, alive, alive
Alive, alive, alive, alive
I'm alive
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Is In Heaven
Brother Martin was assassinated at a very young age.
Intelligent and determined; he was a wise sage.
I am convinced that he is definitely the only man
In Heaven.
Bro. Martin fought for everybody’s civil rights, regardless of race,
Color, gender, origin, etcetera, etcetera. He is in a better place
Right now, I feel that he is the only man
In Heaven.
Brother Martin was a very dedicated disciple of Jesus Christ,
Who did not fight back, but he was stronger than ice;
He was a peaceful warrior. I know that he is the only man
In Heaven.
There is a lot that one can say and write about this legend.
He had many dreams and great visions, He knew how to blend
Fiction and reality. He was a man of ideas and actions.
Brother Martin is in Heaven working on different transactions.
I want to thank him and his associates for their sacrifices.
Brother Martin is still alive. His dreams are alive under the auspices
Of God’s blessings to fight racism, unfairness and all sorts of inequalities.
Brother Martin is not dead. We shall overcome despite our inabilities.
Jesus died for our sins, but Brother Martin died for things
That benefit all humanities. Let the angels sing, let freedom ring
In every corner of the earth. I am overjoyed to say that Brother Martin
Is in Heaven.
poem by Hebert Logerie (15 January 2012)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wanted Dead Or Alive
Its all the same, only the names will change
Everyday it seems were wasting away
Another place where the faces are so cold
Id drive all night just to get back home
Chorus:
Im a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride
Im wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive
Sometimes I sleep, sometimes its not for days
And the people I meet always go their separate ways
Sometimes you tell the day
By the bottle that you drink
And times when youre all alone all you do is think
Chorus
I walk these streets, a loaded six string on my back
I play for keeps, cause I might not make it back
I been everywhere, still Im standing tall
Ive seen a million faces an Ive rocked them all
Im a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride
Im wanted dead or alive
Im a cowboy, I got the night on my side
Im wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What's in a name?
"What's in a name? "
The great one said,
A rose by any name
Would smell the same
True it is when we name
Something that's known
What if we name something unknown?
Such as a storm,
National Hurricane Center
Originated a list of names
Of women, and men
For several years of storms
Six scores of them
Used in a cycle
And it's argued
A name's a convenient way
To refer to a storm
And then…
If a storm was deadly
For reasons of sensitivity
A committee decides
To retire the name
No new storm will get that name
A new name takes its place in the list
Logical it looks
But what about that name
For naming a child?
poem by Tirupathi Chandrupatla
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Dead Prayers
hearts trek
feet travel to the road
leading to unknown tombs
forgotten by the winding clocks
never remembered by the heart
and troubled souls
reach the unpainted walls
of a moss decorated crypt
and the dead souls
shouts dead prayers
only the dead can understand
what are halloween prayers anyway?
for uncaring bones
became stout by the earth
addicted by the rain of forgetfullness
and drugged by dreams gone wild
of wisdom lost
in a maze of unknown heavens
in a hell never found..
yet it is Halloween
so hearts still murmur
souls still recite
dead prayers for all
dead souls
encaged on dead tombs
poem by Villiamor Calventas
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Dead Alive
Mourned to be the one -
To wake -
To live -
To see -
To walk -
Alive but dead -
Days by day, my oasis lives by the colour of night -
Energies of the living, absorbed -
To live in the between of dead -
Peace to be found, the yard where we spade the graves -
Where tombs act the way of stones -
The dead of the flowers, vase the portrait of a future to be -
Flesh to earth, invested to be inverted -
Still born -
Aged we pass to birth -
To be boned -
To die in death
poem by Unic Cjonr
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I Am The Whirlwind
Outside,
The wind breathes through me
As though it was alive
And I was the element
Cutting through the edges
Of time and stillness
With the angles of my mind...
A hollow shell washed out
From the Sea
Onto the shore of life
With the echoes of forever
Swirling inside...
I am the whirlwind
Storming through eternity,
Impressing my passing journey
Into the Earth's tranquility...
©All Rights Reserved-2012
poem by Romeo Della Valle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Afternoon In The Cemetery
A dog with a lame leg drags itself around the tombs
Mrs. watson talks with someone whos been dead for years
A sickly smell of urine rising from her tights
Two old ladies on a park bench sitting silent already dead
What a wonderfull place to have a cup of tea
What a wonderfull place to read a book bout love
What a wonderfull place to sit around with me under a tree
On an afternoon in the cemetery
Millions of flies spiral around a cross before they land
In a fresh grave someone dug last night
The little chappel looks so sad even the flowers seem to cry
And all those people seem to wait for the moment they will die
What a wonderfull place to have a cup of tea
What a wonderfull place to read a book bout
What a wonderfull place to sit around with me under a tree
On an afternoon in the cemetery
song performed by by Fury In The Slaughterhouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wanted Dead Or Alive
Written by: j. cannata and m. soldan
Dead or alive
They say that crime dont pay
(wanted) dead or alive
I was born to be a runaway
When youre out on your own
You can be so alone
City livin means breakin the rules
Once youre in you never get out
Theres just no way to stop
Theres nowhere to go theyre draggin you down
cos youre the one they want
Dead or alive
They say that crime dont pay
(wanted) dead or alive
I was born to be a runaway
If the street is your friend
Gotta fight to the end
Soldiers of fortune they never give up
And once youre out you have it made
You rake your way to the top
Nowhere to go theyre draggin you down
cos youre the one they want
Dead or alive
They say that crime dont pay
(wanted) dead or alive
I was born to be a runaway
Wanted dead or alive
Take it or leave it break all the rules
Once youre in you never get out
Theres just no way to stop
Theres nowhere to go theyre draggin you down
cos youre the one they want
Dead or alive
I was born to be a runaway
(wanted) dead or alive
I was born to be a runaway, anyway, (runaway)
Wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Henry Bartle Edward Frere
Bend down and read-the birth, the death, the name.
Born in the year that Waterloo was won,
And died in this, whose days are not yet run,
But which, because a year conceived in shame,
No noble need will christen or will claim.
And yet this dead man, England, was Thy son,
And at his grave we ask what had he done,
Bred to be famous, to be foiled of Fame.
Be the reply his epitaph: That he,
In years as youth, the unyielding spirit bore
He got from Thee, but Thou hast got no more;
And that it is a bane and bar to be
A child of Thine, now the adventurous sea
All vainly beckons to a shrinking shore.
Therefore, great soul, within your marble bed
Sleep sound, nor hear the useless tears we weep.
Why should you wake, when England is asleep,
Or care to live, since England now is dead?
Forbidden are the steeps where Glory led;
No more from furrowed danger of the deep
We harvest greatness; to our hearths we creep,
Count and recount our coin, and nurse our dread.
The sophist's craft hath grown a prosperous trade,
And womanish Tribunes hush the manly drum:
The very fear of Empire strikes us numb,
Fumbling with pens, who brandished once the blade.
Therefore, great soul, sleep sound where you are laid,
Blest in being deaf when Honour now is dumb.
poem by Alfred Austin
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You draw beautifully with your pencil
You draw beautifully with your pencil,
sketches of almost any flower and plant,
things that are alive and some things that are dead
even a woman giving birth
on the beach.
You draw beautifully with your pencil
on a table are slices of bread
with a hungry dog on the other side;
things that are alive and some things that are dead,
there are children that are wasting away from starvation
and a woman’s hand with a wedding band.
You draw beautifully with your pencil,
a sounding level going down a well
being held by a strong male hand.
Things that are alive and some things that are dead,
you sketch and sometimes it’s any thing valuable;
even people in love on a tropical island
and you draw beautifully with your pencil
things that are alive and some things that are dead.
poem by Gert Strydom
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While the storm outside is quieting down [2]
While the storm outside is quieting down
the last lightning bolts falls slamming
sounding like canon shots,
you are busy peeling an orange
and from fright you hand stops still
while we listen to the voice of the God.
While the storm outside is quieting down
the last lightning bolts falls slamming,
I polish the my pair of glasses,
you are again peeling in thin orange strips
that folds around your hand when you remember something
as if something has walked over your grave you are shuddering
while the storm outside is quieting down.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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