Spread the Truth!
BRAVE the anger of the wealthy! Scorn their bitter lying spite!
Tell the Truth in simple language, when you know that you are right!
And they’ll read it by the slush-lamps in the station huts at night,
I have seen the People’s triumph in the visions of my dreams;
It as pictured by the campfires down the lonely western streams,
And the teamsters talk about it as they tramp beside their teams.
Write the Truth in simple language, and you shall not write in vain!
Sing a ringing song of freedom, and you’ll hear the same refrain
Where the drovers ride together far across the western plain.
Write of wrongs that you are hating with the grand old burning hate!
For the lonely digger reads it when the western day is late,
And he marks it in the paper he is sending to his mate.
Spread the Truth in simple language when you feel it in your breast!
It will reach the far selections in the wild Australian west,
Where the bushmen yarn together on a sunny day of rest.
O the workers’ new religion spreads beneath the southern skies,
And the bearded fathers read it, for its words are kind and wise,
And the little children listen to the Truth with wondering eyes.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Sad But The Truth Is On
There are too many bold,
Sad but the truth is on.
And too may all-knowing for their teachers.
Sad but the truth is on.
And they say their teachers can't teach,
Or read, or write to them...
On their lowered levels.
Sad but the truth is on.
Sad but the truth is on.
Many never knew about a hug to touch.
Sad but the truth is on.
There's just too many needing loving.
Sad but the truth is on.
And they don't believe a lesson taught to them,
Reveals and begins to grow to show.
Sad but the truth is on.
It's so sad but the truth is on.
It's so sad about the truth!
The truth for so many has gone.
It's so sad to see it...
Nonexisting.
Sad but the truth is on.
It's so sad but the truth is on.
It's sad about the truth,
Today!
For so many that truth is gone.
It's so sad today...
That,
People sit back to watch it too!
Sad but the truth is on.
It's so sad but the truth is on.
Everybody's talking about a fairness.
But nothing there is fair.
Sad but the truth is on.
Sad but the truth is on.
And,
Everything once fair there is gone.
'Cause nothing in the air is fair there!
Everybody's talking about a fairness.
But nothing there is fair.
And,
Everything once fair there is gone.
Because nothing in the air is fair,
There!
Sad but the truth is on.
Sad but the truth is on.
Everything once fair there is gone.
Because nothing in the air is fair,
There!
Sad but the truth is on.
Sad but the truth is on.
It's a long and lonely,
Sentimental journey.
Sad but the truth is on.
Sad but the truth is on.
Sad but the truth is on.
Sad but the truth is on.
It's a long and lonely,
Sentimental journey.
Sad but the truth is on.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Simple Truth
Here is a simple truth
Which I write for you
The only thing I fail to say
Is what I feel inside
~
You are beautiful
You could be my world
I think of you anyway
In the deepest of affection
~
You have you little ways
Which always make me smile
Sometimes I will laugh
Remembering something you said
~
I dream of you like no other
I wish to talk to you
Share in your dreams and adventures
Wherever they may lead us
~
I guess my heart is simple
And would enjoy the little pleasures
Of just being in your company
Because you are so wonderfully you
~
And now I write a truth
I know our limited relationship
Will never match my ambitions
However I still love you
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Simple truth
please just tell,
tell me the truth,
its really simple,
tell the truth....
do you really love me
do you really care about me...
tell me please,
you wont hurt my feelings or anything i just want to know.
i need to know the truth.
do you believe in forever
i need the truth.
look me in eyes and tell me
the simple truth......
i will understand...
but i have to hear it to believe it...
dont lie,
tell the simple truth...
poem by Kanako Izumkui
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Truth is also a lie
Truth isn't what you tell.
Truth isn't what I listen.
Truth is what I feel.
Truth isn't what I write.
Truth isn't what you read.
Truth is what you realize.
Truth is also a lie.
poem by Palas kumar Ray
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Way To Write The Truth
it is when you write the truth
that words become accurate,
they become so touching, and those who hear them
identify with them
in the most sentimental manner
perhaps because truth is a sentiment
something that strikes the heart rather than the mind
it is something so personal that someone does not even want to speak about it
again
it is not spoken because no words can take it from its clarity
every detail is an obvious and
intricate design
in fact there is a map there
that connects you and
the speaker & the other listener
over there
the bridge becomes so strong
that all men in all walks of life with their women
begin to cross
in silence but with the full understanding that this is it
it is us
sometimes i tell you that i am lying
that is the best truth that i can give you
for a while that the pain is not that strong
for fear that it crosses that path that leads to you
and then
i will be too unfair
to give it to all of you
like a Trojan horse
or the seeds of discord
it is when i write the truth
that i feel rested, because by then you will confirm what i feel
what i say, what i did not say that i feel
and then i become a part of you
and then i am not lonely anymore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Read poem write poem and poem
Read poem write poem and poem
I know poem is the best
Poem has emotion poem has life
Through poem we can reach
Where we want to reach.
I express myself through poem
Truth is in the poem
And truth is my expression.
Know truth live with truth
Truth is in the poem.
Read poem write poem and poem.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Simple Poem For My Mother From My Mother
A SIMPLE POEM FOR MY MOTHER FROM MY MOTHER
All I am is a simple poem.
A few words in language
A child can read.
Simple words
Like my beloved mother
Of Blessed Memory’s Talk-
Simple, straight
Sometimes with quiet humor-
Happy trusting loving
And in intention
Good for the other.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Plain And Clear
My name is very long but,
I am very short;
Your name is very short but,
You are very tall;
We do look alike but,
We do think differently.
You are what you watch,
You are what you read,
You are what you paint,
You are what you write,
You are what you eat,
You are what you sing,
You are what you drink,
You are what you cook,
You are what you love,
But this life is full of dreams.
I am living in a land wher,
Almost everybody does smoke;
Walking the walk and talking the talk,
This life is full of dreams.
Like the headmaster and the pupil,
You are what you are;
And the truth must be made very plain.
Some have money but without children,
Some have children but witout money,
The truth should be made plain and clear;
You are what you teach and,
You are what you ride on.
This world is like that and,
I am living in a land wher children do smoke;
But, i am under everybody's roof.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I will write a poem that will say the truth
This poem I will write and it will tell the truth
The candid truth, the whole candid truth and nothing
But the miserable truth
And this will hurt you and all of you who consider me a friend
The words are carefully chosen and the
Lines screened with so much introspection
This poem will tell you who you really are
No holds bar, no second thoughts
No consideration at all that you may hate me
I, who want, always to be loved and be popular
I am tired of lying and telling what is not in my mind,
I will now write the truth about you and the whole world,
This poem will hurt you and this world
And the whole world will be angry about me writing this poem,
This poem will bring you into harsh awakenings
And this will surely shake you and hurt you and you will never
Talk to me again and you will wish me ill and you will curse the day that I was born.
This poem will make you hate me forever but for one thing
I still have no courage to show it to you, perhaps later when I am
All ready to be despised, hated and finally discarded from your minds.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Want to Be True
I don't want to be clever or witty or wise
I just want to be true.
Truth?
Truth was us when, inside me, you looked into my eyes and found my love,
Truth was us when we laughed and played,
Truth was us when you cared too much for me to make love to me,
Truth was us, when knowing me, you were brave in your words and helped me be true.
Truth?
Truth was your tenderness, your joy, your heart.
Truth was my surrender, my giving, my happiness.
Truth was your love, was my love, was the love we created between us.
The truth was our honesty and ease.
Truth?
Truth is the emptiness I feel at my loss of you,
Truth is my naïve hope, all present, that you will come to me,
Truth is the pain at night while I grieve for you,
Truth is my smile and my love playing the memories.
Truth is this moment, the now, the present.
The truth is I had something more than wonderful, and I can't have it anymore.
The truth is I so wish I was with you.
Truth?
So many truths?
I will be true in the moment. x
poem by Susan Cook
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Truth Through Repetition
Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition
ruth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition T
uth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Tr
th through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Tru
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through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
hrough repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth t
rough repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth th
ough repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth thr
ugh repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth thro
gh repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth throu
h repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth throug
repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through
repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through
epetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through r
petition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through re
etition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through rep
tition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repe
ition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repet
tion Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repeti
ion Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetit
on Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetiti
n Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetitio
Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetiion
Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition
ruth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition T
uth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Tr
th through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Tru
h through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Trut
through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Write Poetry
I write not poetry for the poor
for tears from their swelled up eyes
smudge and erase my words,
I write poetry not for the rich
for the splotches from their fat and cheese
hide my lines of wise,
I write poetry for not men to read
for in their skirmishes, poems are trashes
like beans spilled in pond full of slush,
I write poetry for the men not to read
for poems are little words, little music
little cry that the men cant touch or destroy,
poem by Saranyan Bee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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(V - 2009) The Truth of the Truth
The Sages and Seers
That be and have been
Cannot have seen
The truth of the Truth!
What they see as Truth
Is Truth merely
It’s not really
The truth of the Truth!
The Ultimate Truth
Cannot be known
We aren’t that grown –
The truth of the Truth!
We’re part of the Truth
We’re trying to see
We’re yet so tiny –
The truth of the Truth!
Though hard and great
The pains we give
We cannot outlive
The truth of the Truth!
What’s Truth to you once
Remains not the same
So changing the game –
The truth of the Truth!
What’s Truth to a man
Is not Truth to all
That’s what we call
The truth of the Truth!
These thoughts as I pen
It’s Truth to me
It’s to me only
The truth of the Truth!
Lunch With a Poet
I had lunch with a poet, just the other day.
A poet who has written fine and lofty verse,
Conveying his experiences, emotions and his ideas, in
Vivid, imaginative ways, condensed in simple language,
Choosing words for sound and power,
Rather than impressing readers with poetic adulterations.
Almost apologetically, he said he uses 'nickel words'
To write his inner thoughts. It was as if he were at fault,
As though he thought those simple sounds
Had lessened the intent of his poetic worth.
I emphasized how wrong he was, and tried
To make clear, a poet writes in sympathy with his reader,
Overleaping the barriers of understanding by the simplicity
Of his language, and of his words.
To write with words of misty meaning does not make
A mystic.
To write with vulgar words does not lift up the poem
On wings of song, it only floats as high as the poet's
Commonality who, mistaking flatulence for inspiration, becomes
Enmeshed in a literary byproduct of the foulest of excretion and Smells.
My friend failed to intellectually understand,
But spiritually Accepts, as his writings reveal,
That clarity of thought and mind is the poet's
Highest point of the poet's integrity.
poem by Lynn W. Petty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am My Poem
When you see me,
you see my poems.
For when i breath, i breath out ballads.
But vers libre express my heart.
Should i write in complicated
and rhythmic words to make
my poems deep and beautiful?
My life is complicated already.
Should i write in simple and
enticing words to make
my poems attractive?
My life is not that simple.
Like stream to the river
down to the sea,
so is my poems from my
soul to my spirit down to my body.
You may disapprove me
but come and take a walk
within my soul and see if
you can live there for a moment.
So when i write, must i
invite you to read.
Read if you want to.
I write because the chamber
of soul finds relieve.
poem by Enebeli Ifyprada
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To A Friend Who Says That She Does Not Know How To Write A Poem Anymore
it is sad, when you think that you do not know
how to write a poem anymore
a simple poem as simple as you
what does it take for humanity to write one poem?
does it take that much from those who claim they know the way?
shall blood be shed to drive another point?
do not lose hope in the power of our ordinary words,
for as long as we quiver, poems are written
for as long as we lose the consciousness about our beings
the metaphors always come and build upon themselves their own meanings
take your time, breathe the air of poetry, and let the molecules
enter your lungs that long to see the light of the sun,
just be patient, keep on waiting, savor the silence, shower yourself
with the light of the moon, on another lonely night,
sleep soundly, and listen to the sound of your snores,
in your dreams, the poems write themselves.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why Do I Write
I write from my sadness
I write from the madness
I write because I have something to say
I write to pass the day
I write only from the heart
I write for sometimes I am not that smart
Whatever is in head just comes out on paper (in this case a word document) , and I go with the flow
Write to let my mind go
I follow my hand to where ever it takes me
I write all the things that I can see
I write when I am happy, but not as much
I write from my heart that you can touch
I write because I’d go insane
I am driven to write quell my pain
At times I feel alone so I write what I am feeling
I write for it is self-healing
Confident not so I write it all away
I write and write to pass the day
I write to comfort my soul that cries out in the night
I write for love is always out of sight
I write so I don't have to cry any more
I write for I have no one to adore
I write so someone somewhere will hear my plea
I write for someone is out there for me
I am lost and I the clown
I write to turn my frown upside down
I write to embrace the sadness I hide inside
I write with my heart opened wide
I write to silence the ghost
I write for I’ve been let down by the one I loved the most
I write through the stormy weather
I write for I am light as a feather
I am not a writer nor am I a poet
I write for the grief I do know it
I will write until I draw my last breath
I write because I'll die a lonely death
I have to write for strangers delight
I write because I have to write
I write for my own happiness
I write to relieve my stress
I write because I have no other choice
I write as if I was writing a letter
I write because I can’t do any better
I write because I am afraid not to
I write for this is what I do
I write for I give a damn
I write just because I am
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Villanelle of Ye Young Poet's First Villanelle to his Ladye and Ye Difficulties Thereof
To sing the charms of Rosabelle,
To pour my soul out at her feet,
I try to write this villanelle.
Now I am caught within her spell,
It seems to me most wondrous sweet
To sing the charms of Rosabelle.
I seek in vain for words to tell
My love -- Alas, my muse is weak!
I try to write this villanelle.
Would I had power to compel
The English language incomplete
To sing the charms of Rosabelle.
The ardent thoughts that in me dwell
On paper I would fair repeat
I try to write this villanelle.
My effort fruitless is. O H--l!
I'll tell her all when next we meet.
To sing the charms of Rosabelle,
I tried to write this villanelle.
poem by Eugene O'Neill
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I Write to Tell the Truth I Have Known
I DREAMED I WAS A POEM
I dreamed I was a poem
And the universe read and reread me-
Until waking up I understood
I would never be written again.
I WRITE TO TELL THE TRUTH I HAVE KNOWN
I write to tell the truth I have known -
But there is so much truth
And so much life unrecognized and unremembered-
Most of my life has gone by
Unknown to me-
And even my most intense moments
Cannot be remembered so as to be re- experienced.
I
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Luke Havergal
Go to the western gate, Luke Havergal,
There where the vines cling crimson on the wall,
And in the twilight wait for what will come.
The leaves will whisper there of her, and some,
Like flying words, will strike you as they fall;
But go, and if you listen she will call.
Go to the western gate, Luke Havergal—
Luke Havergal.
No, there is not a dawn in eastern skies
To rift the fiery night that’s in your eyes;
But there, where western glooms are gathering,
The dark will end the dark, if anything:
God slays Himself with every leaf that flies,
And hell is more than half of paradise.
No, there is not a dawn in eastern skies—
In eastern skies.
Out of a grave I come to tell you this,
Out of a grave I come to quench the kiss
That flames upon your forehead with a glow
That blinds you to the way that you must go.
Yes, there is yet one way to where she is,
Bitter, but one that faith may never miss.
Out of a grave I come to tell you this—
To tell you this.
There is the western gate, Luke Havergal,
There are the crimson leaves upon the wall.
Go, for the winds are tearing them away,—
Nor think to riddle the dead words they say,
Nor any more to feel them as they fall;
But go, and if you trust her she will call.
There is the western gate, Luke Havergal—
Luke Havergal.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson from The Children of the Night (1897)
Submitted by anonym
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