The Skeleton
Chattering finch and water-fly
Are not merrier than I;
Here among the flowers I lie
Laughing everlastingly.
No; I may not tell the best;
Surely, friends, I might have guessed
Death was but the good King's jest,
It was hid so carefully.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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Related quotes
The Skeleton
Chattering finch and water-fly
Are not merrier than I;
Here among the flowers I lie
Laughing everlastingly.
No: I may not tell the best;
Surely, friends, I might have guessed
Death was but the good King's jest,
It was hid so carefully.
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Its Good To Be King
Its good to be king, if just for a while
To be there in velvet, yeah, to give em a smile
Its good to get high, and never come down
Its good to be king of your own little town
Yeah the world would swing if I were king
Can I help it if I still dream time to time
Its good to be king and have your own way
Get a feeling of peace at the end of the day
And when your bulldog barks and your canary sings
Youre out there with winners, its good to be king
Yeah, Ill be king when dogs have wings
Can I help it if I still dream time to time
Its good to be king and have your own world
It helps to make friends, its good to meet girls
A sweet little queen, who cant run away
Its good to be king, whatever it pays
Excuse me if I have some place in my mind
Where I go time to time
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Memory of Water (for Scarlet)
Water remembers you
falling now on your sleeping face
waking you from dreams
with its surprise
after you fell asleep
at your first pinic.
Water remembers your childish
laughter.
Water remembers you
holding your body
in its body
as you learn not to fear it
as you learn the words float...sink...swim.
Water remembers you
becoming its friend.
Water remembers you
diving into its honeymoon waters
becoming fishes....kisses
lasting from here to eternity.
Water remembers two
delerious skinnydippers.
Water remembers you
crying in its rain
sobbing 'I'll never fall in love again! '
as if you were an old 1950's tune.
Water remembers such tears
hiding them in its rain.
Water remembers you
laughing in the rain
having fallen in love again
so quick to change
your tune.
Water remembers you
laughing here we go again.
Water remembers you
soaking wet in a sudden thunder storm
flowers held in your hand
having lost their heads
presenting her
with nothing but stalks.
Water remembers you
having to wear her old dress
as she dried your clothes.
Water remembers
kisses lost amonst the roar of a fire.
Water remembers you
& is saddened to find you
with no answers
with no questions
here on this bridge
reflecting itself
here in its depths
where only silence lives
holding you
as before
only water
remembers your death.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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A Story Made
The table with its sunshade wide,
listened to the chattering.
Old and young sat side by side
around it, gaily nattering.
The birds perched nearby in the trees,
listened to the chattering
rising up on a light breeze.
Indeed the sounds were shattering.
The sun that shone down from the sky,
listened to the chattering.
Knew that once the rain came by,
there would be gentle pattering.
The young and old who felt the drops,
ceased to do the chattering.
Went indoors under rooftops,
resuming their loud yattering.
The sunshade dripping from the hail,
listened to the chattering.
Felt so sorry for a snail,
getting such a harsh battering.
The chairs where everyone had sat,
listened to the chattering.
Many were now lying flat.
there had been quite a scattering.
And so all these things a story made,
all about the chattering.
The elements well displayed,
when all received a splattering.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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When Good People Become Friends
When Good People Become Friends
Things work better.
Things work together
Things work out.
When Good People Become Friends
Listening become hearing
seeing become insight
Attention becomes nurture.
When Good People Become Friends
Generosity becomes sharing
Sacrifices become pleasures
Rightful obedience becomes an uncommon delight.
When Good People Become Friends
Joys become happiness
Comfort becomes peace
Needs become an abundance.
When Good people Become Friends
Acquaintances become friendships
Concern becomes caring
Likenesses become divine love.
When Good People Become Friends
Traveling becomes a journey
Endeavors come into fruition
Living becomes Life.
When Good People Become Friends
Gifts become blessings
Blessings become anointings
Anointings become endowments.
When Good People Become Friends
Love becomes power
Weaknesses become strength
And death, Death becomes a new birth.
When Good People Become Friends.
poem by Cecelia Weir
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Mint Car
The sun is up
i'm so happy I could scream
and there's nowhere else in the world I'd rather be
than here with you
it's perfect
it's all I ever wanted
Almost can't believe that it's for real
i really don't think it gets any better than this
vanilla smile
and a gorgeous strawberry kiss!
birds sing we swing
clouds shift by and everything is like a dream
It's everything I wished...
never guessed it got this good
wondered if it ever would
really didn't think it could
do it again?
i know we should!!!
The sun is up
i'm so fizzy I could burst!
you wet through and me headfirst
into this it's perfect
It's all I ever wanted
ow! it feels so big it almost hurts!
never guessed it got this good
wondered if it ever would
really didn't think it could
do it some more?
i know we should!!!
it will always be like this
forever and ever
never guessed it got this good
Wondered if it ever would
Really didn't think it could
do it all the time?
i know that we should!!!
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Side of the Truth
(for Llewelyn)
This side of the truth,
You may not see, my son,
King of your blue eyes
In the blinding country of youth,
That all is undone,
Under the unminding skies,
Of innocence and guilt
Before you move to make
One gesture of the heart or head,
Is gathered and spilt
Into the winding dark
Like the dust of the dead.
Good and bad, two ways
Of moving about your death
By the grinding sea,
King of your heart in the blind days,
Blow away like breath,
Go crying through you and me
And the souls of all men
Into the innocent
Dark, and the guilty dark, and good
Death, and bad death, and then
In the last element
Fly like the stars' blood
Like the sun's tears,
Like the moon's seed, rubbish
And fire, the flying rant
Of the sky, king of your six years.
And the wicked wish,
Down the beginning of plants
And animals and birds,
Water and Light, the earth and sky,
Is cast before you move,
And all your deeds and words,
Each truth, each lie,
Die in unjudging love.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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Vagabond
Dunno a heap about the what an' why,
Can't say's I ever knowed.
Heaven to me's a fair blue stretch of sky,
Earth's jest a dusty road.
Dunno the names o' things, nor what they are,
Can't say's I ever will.
Dunno about God - he's jest the noddin' star
Atop the windy hill.
Dunno about Life - it's jest a tramp alone,
From wakin'-time to doss.
Dunno about Death - it's jest a quiet stone
All over-grey wi' moss.
An' why I live, an' why the old world spins,
Are things I never knowed.
My mark's the gypsy fires, the lonely inns,
An' jest the dusty road.
poem by John Masefield (1902)
Submitted by anonym
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The Carter Family
(carly simon/jacob brackman)
The carter family lived next door for almost 14 years
With gwen and I inseperatable from rag dolls through brassieres
Then gwen began to bore me with her giggles and her fears
The day the carters moved away, I had to fake my tears
I told new friends gwen carter had become a silly pest
And then I found I missed her more than Id ever have guessed
Grandma used to nag at me to straighten up my spine
To act respectful and read good books
To take care of what was mine
I hated being criticized and asking her permission
So what if her advise was wise, it always hurt to listen
I didnt cry when granny died, she made me so depressed
And then I found I missed her more than Id ever have guessed
You used to make me moan in bed, but that cant be enough
My friends complained your jokes were crude,
Your manners were too rough
Dont know just what I wanted, but I know I wanted more
Someone smooth, presentable, to blend with my decor
And now at night I think of how you grinned when you undressed
And I find I miss you more than Id ever have guessed.
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Purple Flowers
Purple Flowers
To my Violette
Memory;
Of my mother.
Alive and laughing pretty,
putting flowers in a vase,
water for the roots.
Why mommy, why do you do that?
A little boy full of wonder___
life can be like that.
So I can save them and see them,
because I love you.
Picking purple flowers,
purple flowers in the rain,
purle flowers hide my pain.
You do love me dont you mother,
purple flowers,
stain.
Charles R Hice
Copyright ©2006 Charles Hice
poem by Charles Hice
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Unfolded by the water are faces of the flowers. Flowers thrive where there is water, as thriving people are found where living conditions are good.
Mirror, Mirror
nature gives
to me a piece of
merrier self
and from there
it claims a piece
of merrier self
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Maybe… there aren't any such things as good friends or bad friends — maybe there are just friends, people who stand by you when you're hurt and who help you feel not so lonely. Maybe they're always worth being scared for, and hoping for, and living for. Maybe worth dying for, too, if that's what has to be. No good friends. No bad friends. Only people you want, need to be with; people who build their houses in your heart.
quote by Stephen King
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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What A Friend
Lady of the G..spot...
You are just a dot...
I've always wish that you...
Sh- or get off the pot...
In you I do not plot...
To me you are...
A save-a-lot...
You are truly my friend...
And that I want to never...
End...
But every now and then...
I ask if I came come in...
But I keep in mind that we..are...
Truly freinds...Platonic at best...
So my asking...is always in jest...
And maybe that is best...jset...
And anything other...I would be a pest...
That would be a mess...
But you rest...
We both have pass..the test...
I would love to fail...in jest...
We shall remain platonic...
Now that takes balls...
But that is my call...
We are friends after all...
And I am the freind in need...in deed...
Keep one eye open...
And the other eye on...
Jest...
whisperkwane
swtlamb@y ahoo.com
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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My Dog and I
My dog and I, the hills we know
Where the first faint wild roses blow,
We know the shadowy paths and cool
That wind across the woodland dim,
And where the water beetles swim
Upon the surface of the pool.
My dog and I, our feet brush through
Full oft the fragrant morning dew,
Or when the summer sun is high
We linger where the river flows,
Chattering and chuckling as it goes,
Two happy tramps, my dog and I.
Or, when the winter snows are deep,
Into some fire-lit nook we creep
And, while the north wind howls outside,
See castles in the dancing blaze,
Or, dozing, dream of summer days
And woodland stretches, wild and wide.
My dog and I are friends till death,
And when the chill, dark angel's breath
Shall call him from me, still I know
Forever friends, my dog and I.
poem by Norah M. Holland
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Thirst
My spirit wails for water, water now!
My tongue is aching dry, my throat is hot
For water, fresh rain shaken from a bough,
Or dawn dews heavy in some leafy spot.
My hungry body's burning for a swim
In sunlit water where the air is cool,
As in Trout Valley where upon a limb
The golden finch sings sweetly to the pool.
Oh water, water, when the night is done,
When day steals gray-white through the windowpane,
Clear silver water when I wake, alone,
All impotent of parts, of fevered brain;
Pure water from a forest fountain first,
To wash me, cleanse me, and to quench my thirst!
poem by Claude McKay
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The King's Daughter
WE WERE ten maidens in the green corn,
Small red leaves in the mill-water:
Fairer maidens never were born,
Apples of gold for the king’s daughter.
We were ten maidens by a well-head,
Small white birds in the mill-water:
Sweeter maidens never were wed,
Rings of red for the king’s daughter.
The first to spin, the second to sing,
Seeds of wheat in the mill-water;
The third may was a goodly thing,
White bread and brown for the king’s daughter.
The fourth to sew and the fifth to play,
Fair green weed in the mill-water;
The sixth may was a goodly may,
White wine and red for the king’s daughter.
The seventh to woo, the eighth to wed,
Fair thin reeds in the mill-water;
The ninth had gold work on her head,
Honey in the comb for the king’s daughter.
The ninth had gold work round her hair,
Fallen flowers in the mill-water;
The tenth may was goodly and fair,
Golden gloves for the king’s daughter.
We were ten maidens in a field green,
Fallen fruit in the mill-water;
Fairer maidens never have been,
Golden sleeves for the king’s daughter.
By there comes the king’s young son,
A little wind in the mill-water;
“Out of ten maidens ye’ll grant me one,”
A crown of red for the king’s daughter.
“Out of ten mays ye’ll give me the best,”
A little rain in the mill-water;
A bed of yellow straw for all the rest,
A bed of gold for the king’s daughter.
He’s ta’en out the goodliest,
Rain that rains in the mill-water;
A comb of yellow shell for all the rest,
A comb of gold for the king’s daughter.
He’s made her bed to the goodliest,
Wind and hail in the mill-water;
A grass girdle for all the rest,
A girdle of arms for the king’s daughter.
He’s set his heart to the goodliest,
Snow that snows in the mill-water;
Nine little kisses for all the rest,
An hundredfold for the king’s daughter.
He’s ta’en his leave at the goodliest,
Broken boats in the mill-water;
Golden gifts for all the rest,
Sorrow of heart for the king’s daughter.
“Ye’ll make a grave for my fair body,”
Running rain in the mill-water;
“And ye’ll streek my brother at the side of me,”
The pains of hell for the king’s daughter.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Death - The Gift of Life
There’s nothing certain but death
Nor beyond nor before
We are born and live to die
Death the only gift of life
We fret; make noise, shout and cry
We skid from hills to valley and back
Get torn among home, work and friends
There’s nothing certain but death
Death the only gift of life
We fight, we scream, we spurn
We step on each others’ toe
All to achieve and amass
There’s nothing certain but death
Death the only gift of life
Walk we straight with pride
Look we people in the eye
Seldom do we stop and stoop
There’s nothing certain but death
Death the only gift of life
We make friends, yet sly
Break hearts and water eyes
Too proud to bend or mend
There’s nothing certain but death
Death the only gift of life
Each death promise another
Our last breath gives forth life
To another birth to die again
There’s nothing certain but death
Death the only gift of life
Never can we live past in life
In death we reach the very start
From grains we come, to grains we go
There’s nothing certain but death
Death the only gift of life
poem by Thomas PJ New Delhi
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Laughter Club.
They stood in a big circle,
Started laughing, laughing
For nothing making gestures
At each other in mid mumbai parks,
Slowily turning into real
Laughter uncontrolled
Unfazed by the onlookers,
They went on like this
For quarter an hour,
Making their life merrier
Each day, they called themselves
Laughter clubs, relaxing
Their tired old minds
Early in the morning,
To start a fresh day's work,
Followed by this unbridled happiness.
Ravikiran Arakkal
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
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Mine Water Pot
Oh my water pot! Oh water pot of mine!
Thou hast gone bad!
Thou art indeed rotten!
Thou are indeed broken!
For Whence dost my water pot beget this wickedness?
My water pot now judgest me!
Water pot, with my money have I purchased thee!
Water pot, from thee I dost drink!
Water pot, thee have I carefully kept in my inner room!
How then dost my water pot have power over me?
My water pot now mocketh me!
My water Pot now does abominably!
Indeed, My water pot now speaks ENGLISH!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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