The Song of the Waste-Paper Basket
O BARD of fortune, you deem me nought
But a mark for your careless scorn.
For I am the echo-less grave of thought
That is strangled before it’s born.
You think perchance that I am a doom
Which only a dunce should dread—
Nor dream I’ve been the dishonoured tomb
Of the noblest and brightest dead.
The brightest fancies that e’er can fly
From the labouring minds of men
Are often written in lines awry,
And marred by a blundering pen;
And thus it comes that I gain a part
Of what to the world is loss—
Of genius lost for the want of art,
Of pearls that are set in dross.
And though I am of a lowly birth
My fame has been cheaply bought,
A power am I, for I rob the earth
Of the brightest gems of thought;
The Press gains much of my lawful share,
I am wronged without redress—
But I have revenge, for I think it fair
That I should plunder the Press.
You’d pause in wonder to read behind
The lines of some songs I see;
The soul of the singer I often find
In songs that are thrown to me.
But the song of the singer I bury deep
With the scrawl of the dunce and clown,
And both from the eyes of the world I keep,
And the hopes of both I drown.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Related quotes
Sonnet 01
Poet! if on a lasting fame be bent
Thy unperturbing hopes, thou will not roam
Too far from thine own happy heart and home;
Cling to the lowly earth, and be content!
So shall thy name be dear to many a heart;
So shall the noblest truths by thee be taught;
The flower and fruit of wholesome human thought
Bless the sweet labors of thy gentle art.
The brightest stars are nearest to the earth,
And we may track the mighty sun above,
Even by the shadow of a slender flower.
Always, O bard, humility is power!
And thou mayst draw from matters of the hearth
Truths wide as nations, and as deep as love.
poem by Henry Timrod
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Pop Singer
Never wanted to be no pop singer,
Never wanted to write no pop songs.
Never had no weird hair to get my songs over.
Never wanted to hang out after the show.
Pop singer (writing) of pop songs.
Never wanted to have my picture taken.
Now, who would want to look into these eyes?
Just want to make it real - good, bad or indifferent.
Thats the way that I live and thats the way that Ill die (as a)
Pop singer (of) pop songs.
Pop singer, writing of pop song.
Never wanted to be no pop singer,
Never want to write no pop songs.
Never wanted to have a manager over for dinner.
Never wanted to hang out after the show.
Pop singer, writing pop songs.
Never wanted to be no pop singer, of pop songs.
A pop singer.
Never wanted to write no pop songs.
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Small Plot Of Land
Poor soul
Spit upon that
Poor soul
He never knew what hit him
And it hit him so
Poor dunce
He pushed back the pigmen
The barbs laughed
The fool is dead
Poor dunce
Hes less than within us
The brains talk
But the will to live is dead
And prayer cant
Travel so far these days
The talk of your life
Standing so near
To innocent eyes
Poor dunce
Swings thru the tunnels
And claws his way
Is small life so manic
Are these really the days
Poor dunce
Poor dunce
Poor soul
Poor soul
Poor soul
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wreath the Bowl
Wreath the bowl
With flowers of soul,
The brightest Wit can find us,
We'll take a flight
Towards heaven to-night,
And leave dull earth behind us.
Should Love amid
The wreaths be hid
That Joy, the enchanter, brings us,
No danger fear,
While wine is near --
We'll drown him if he stings us.
Then, wreath the bowl
With flowers of soul,
The brightest Wit can find us.
We'll take a flight
Towards heaven to-night,
And leave dull earth behind us.
'Twas nectar fed
Of old, 'tis said,
Their Junos, Joves, Apollos,
And man may brew
His nectar too,
The rich receipt's as follows:
Take wine like this,
Let looks of bliss
Around it well be blended,
Then bring Wit's beam
To warm the stream,
And there's your nectar, splendid!
So, wreath the bowl,
With flowers of soul,
The brightest Wit can find us,
We'll take a flight
Towards heaven to-night,
And leave dull earth behind us.
Say, why did Time
His glass sublime
Fill up with sands unsightly,
When wine, he knew,
Runs brisker through,
And sparkles far more brightly?
Oh, lend it us,
And, smiling thus,
The glass in two we'll sever,
Make pleasure glide
In double tide,
And fill both ends for ever!
Then, wreath the bowl
With flowers of soul
The brightest Wit can find us;
We'll take a flight
Towards heaven to-night,
And leave dull earth behind us.
poem by Thomas Moore
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O Singer of the epic war history
O Singer of the epic war history,
O Singer of life, of liberation hoary,
Of brazen battlefields, long desolate,
O Singer of Gita's ageless glory.
Outlived hast the song thine endless story,
Though war heroes survive still in state,
Frustrated of fate but scarce sorry,
O Singer of the epic war history.
Yudhishthir's dharma, Arjun's archery,
Bheeshma's oath, Bhima's bravery,
Scarce confined remain to Pearly Gate,
And sung are with Gita's ageless glory.
And ye O bard, two roles in one carry:
Of poet laureate and progenitor great,
O ye born in a river ferry,
O Singer of the epic war history
Ye sang thine epic in such swell flurry,
Ganesha, if not quite inadequate,
Lost in thought, felt somewhat weary,
O Singer of ancient ageless glory,
Not mine ‘lone, any pen-pusher's worry
‘Tis to try even to translate,
O Singer of the epic war history,
O Singer of ancient ageless glory.
_______________________________________ __
This is a Villanelle a bit way out. The tercet,
that normally becomes a quatrain only in the last
stanza, is here so in all. Also, the first and the third
lines of the first stanza are repeated with some
modifications.
_____________________________________________ ______
- Villanelle | 02.10.11 |
poem by Aniruddha Pathak
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In My Defence
In my defence what is there to say
All the mistakes we made must be faced today
It's not easy now knowing where to start
While the world we love tears itself apart
I'm just a singer with a song
How can I try to right the wrong
For just a singer with a melody
I'm caught in between
With a fading dream
In my defence what is there to say
We destroy the love - it's our way
We never listen enough never face the truth
Then like a passing song
Love is here and then it's gone
I'm just a singer with a song
How can I try to right the wrong
For just a singer with a melody
I'm caught in between
With a fading dream
I'm just a singer with a song
How can I try to right the wrong
I'm just a singer with a melody
I'm caught in between with a fading dream
Caught in between with a fading dream
Caught in between with a fading dream
Oh what on earth
Oh what on earth
How do I try
Do we live or die
Oh help me God
Please help me
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Impossible Dreamer
The street was loud
From an angry crowd and
I thought of you, I thought of you
Dreamer
Land of the free
No hungry bellies
Impossible
Impossible dreamer
In the darkest part of the night
Blue shadows conjure you
And in the brightest height of the daylight
Sometimes I blink cause I think I see you
Dreaming like you do
The moon was bright
Like day for night
And I thought of you
I thought of you
Dreamer
No acid rain
Love without pain
Impossible
Impossible dreamer
In the darkest part of the night
Blue shadows conjure you
And at the brightest height of the daylight
Sometimes I blink cause I think I see you
Dreaming like you do
The room was dark
And full of sharks
And I thought of you
I thought of you
Dreamer
Give peace a chance
Dont think just dance
Impossible
Impossible dreamer
In the darkest part of the night
Blue shadows conjure you
And at the brightest height of the daylight
Sometimes I blink cause I think I see you
Dreaming like you do
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dusty Springfield
The music of the Dusty Springfield still lives on,
Even though she, herself, is now dead and gone.
Every day, her songs are played on the airwaves.
About her music, many people still really rave.
When I hear her songs played on the radio,
Deep in my heart, I feel a really warm glow.
To her talent, many artistes still pay tribute.
Many a singer, her style of song, does suit.
She had massive hit after hit over her many years:
The sentiments, of which, still bring me to tears.
If she were still alive today, I think she’d be amazed,
How popular she still is and how much her songs are played.
She was just a normal, ordinary, middle class girl,
Who became one of popular music’s precious pearls.
She never let fame and fortune go to her head.
She chose to remain friendly and down to earth instead.
Her songs are ones which you can sing along to,
And you experience such a feeling of joy when you do.
There are a few songs, for which she’s very well-known,
And, in the world of music, these are set firmly in stone.
One of her most famous songs has to be,
‘You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me.’
‘I Only Want To Be With You’ and ‘Son Of A Preacher Man, ’
Are also really firm favourites amongst her many fans.
When on stage, she really gave it her all,
And always appeared to be having a right ball.
She had a real presence whenever on stage,
And with her audience, she really engaged.
She battled serious illness. She was so very brave,
And over ten years on, her fans still visit her grave.
Whether the day brings bright sunshine or showers,
Fans still make their pilgrimage to bring her flowers.
On ‘Dusty Day’, once a year, her fans come together.
In our hearts, she and her music will live on forever.
An entire day is dedicated to the precious memories of her,
And fans recollections of Dusty, once again, are stirred.
Many of her songs are famous world wide,
And when she passed away, many fans cried.
Her music unites fans from across every nation.
She really was a special lady and a real inspiration.
For her iconic style, she was very well-known -
A style which was exclusively hers and hers alone.
Her songs are still as popular today,
As the day she sadly passed away.
She died at the age of fifty nine, so never reached old age.
I wonder if she was alive today, she would still be on stage?
Since she passed away, over ten years have gone by,
But memories of her live on and will never ever die.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Mors Dei.
Methought I saw God dying, and
The millions round His bed;
And all in every planet knew
They'd pass when He was dead.
In a wan light He lay somewhere,
Where all was strange and dim,
And one by one each living thing
Felt the life leaving Him.
The fiercest creatures lost their power,
The brightest eyes grew pale;
A weakness spread through every star
Like a funereal tale.
Through Heaven and Hell a tremor passed;
The fiends and seraphim
Had hushed their cries and songs, and came
To share their doom with Him.
And o'er the Eyes that looked on all
A deathly glamour passed,
And He knew all that He had made
Was one with Him at last;
As with His final breath a boom
Crashed through the worlds, and He
Let go the awful stress He'd kept
On Life's immensity.
poem by Robert Crawford
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Brightest Star
You are the brightest star
That I always watch every night
How will you know?
How will you notice?
Brightest star.
You do not mind me
I always whisper your name to the wind
i always dream of reaching you
to touch you and kiss you
And even own you
Yet how can I? I do not have the wings
I do not have a heavenly soul
You never notice me
O! Bright star!
So High and so bright
In the black sky and space
That own you
You always live there
And thrive in its black bosom
With the moon
On this day
I dream of becoming the sun
So I may have the power
To forget you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Long I Thought That Knowledge
LONG I thought that knowledge alone would suffice me--O if I could
but obtain knowledge!
Then my lands engrossed me--Lands of the prairies, Ohio's land, the
southern savannas, engrossed me--For them I would live--I would
be their orator;
Then I met the examples of old and new heroes--I heard of warriors,
sailors, and all dauntless persons--And it seemed to me that I
too had it in me to be as dauntless as any--and would be so;
And then, to enclose all, it came to me to strike up the songs of the
New World--And then I believed my life must be spent in
singing;
But now take notice, land of the prairies, land of the south
savannas, Ohio's land,
Take notice, you Kanuck woods--and you Lake Huron--and all that with
you roll toward Niagara--and you Niagara also,
And you, Californian mountains--That you each and all find somebody
else to be your singer of songs,
For I can be your singer of songs no longer--One who loves me is
jealous of me, and withdraws me from all but love,
With the rest I dispense--I sever from what I thought would suffice
me, for it does not--it is now empty and tasteless to me,
I heed knowledge, and the grandeur of The States, and the example of
heroes, no more, 10
I am indifferent to my own songs--I will go with him I love,
It is to be enough for us that we are together--We never separate
again.
poem by Walt Whitman
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A Smile Like Yours
Hmm, thought Id seen everything there was to see in this world
Now Im not so sure Ive really seen anything at all
I thought life could show me no surprises
And then you came and showed me I was wrong
I have seen the bluest skies, rainbows that would make you cry
I have seen miracles that moved my soul, days that changed my life
I have seen the brightest stars shine like diamonds in the dark
Seen all the wonders of the world, but Ive never seen a smile
As beautiful as yours, ooh, ooh, ooh, oh, I thought Id been everywhere
Ive climbed a mountain so high, sailed the sea, crossed the sky
And still I was nowhere at all, until that day, oh, you came to my senses
And your smile, it made sense out of it all, (I have seen the bluest skies)
Rainbows that would make you cry, I have seen miracles
(miracles that moved me soul) that moved my soul, days that changed my life,
I have seen the brightest stars shine like diamonds in the dark
Seen all the wonders of the world, but Ive never seen a smile as beautiful as yours
(smile so beautiful) so beautiful, comes one time in a lifetime
A smile this beautiful, (a smile this beautiful) Ive never dreamed Id ever see, oh
(I have seen the bluest skies) I have seen it, (rainbows that would make you cry)
That would make you cry, Ive seen miracles (miracles) moved my soul,
(days that changed my life) and days that changed my life
I have seen the brightest stars shine like diamonds in the dark
Oh, Ive seen the wonders of this world (wonders of the world)
But Ive never seen a smile (never seen a smile before as beautiful as yours)
Oh, Ive never seen a smile before, (never seen a smile before as beautiful)
As beautiful as yours.
song performed by by Natalie Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ancient Speech
A Gaelic bard they praise who in fourteen adjectives
Named the one indivisible soul of his glen;
For what are the bens and the glens but manifold qualities,
Immeasurable complexities of soul?
What are these isles but a song sung by island voices?
The herdsman sings ancestral memories
And the song makes the singer wise,
But only while he sings
Songs that were old when the old themselves were young,
Songs of these hills only, and of no isles but these.
For other hills and isles this language has no words.
The mountains are like manna, for one day given,
To each his own:
Strangers have crossed the sound, but not the sound of the dark oarsmen
Or the golden-haired sons of kings,
Strangers whose thought is not formed to the cadence of waves,
Rhythm of the sickle, oar and milking pail,
Whose words make loved things strange and small,
Emptied of all that made them heart-felt or bright.
Our words keep no faith with the soul of the world.
poem by Kathleen Jessie Raine
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Only a Simple Rhyme
Only a simple rhyme of love and sorrow,
Where 'blisses' rhymed with 'kisses,' 'heart,' with 'dart:'
Yet, reading it, new strength I seemed to borrow,
To live on bravely and to do my part.
A little rhyme about a heart that's bleeding—
Of lonely hours and sorrow's unrelief:
I smiled at first; but there came with the reading
A sense of sweet companionship in grief.
The selfishness of my own woe forsaking,
I thought about the singer of that song.
Some other breast felt this same weary aching;
Another found the summer days too long.
The few sad lines, my sorrow so expressing,
I read, and on the singer, all unknown,
I breathed a fervent though a silent blessing,
And seemed to clasp his hand within my own.
And though fame pass him and he never know it,
And though he never sings another strain,
He has performed the mission of the poet,
In helping some sad heart to bear its pain.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Christmas Message
The Christmas Message
As he lay on his bed unable to sleep
he saw the brightest star in the sky.
It was the brightest he had ever seen
and he couldn’t understand why.
He watched the star by night and day,
its intensity never waned.
A golden light came down from heaven
carrying an angel who explained.
The messenger spoke of the Son of God
and how he was soon to be born.
He would bring love, peace, and goodwill,
and inspire the lost and forlorn.
The child’s name will be Jesus Christ,
man’s saviour from the highest heaven,
and he will live upon the Earth as a man
until his life for mankind is given.
poem by Orlando Belo
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You have got to attract the brightest and the best, but the brightest and best won't stay unless they see real career options.
quote by Estelle Morris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life’s Rainbow
In thoughts of love,
we will journey across
the green fields of fate
sliding over life’s rainbow
to find the brightest colour
that awaits us at the end.
We journey with our heart
ignoring our mind set
to find the perfect partner
who will illuminate our lives
and set our world ablaze.
The one who will inspire
our fountain of youth within.
In thoughts of love,
we will journey to
the ends of the earth
if the need must be
to slide over life’s rainbow
to find the brightest colour
that awaits us at the end.
poem by David Harris
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I wanted to portray very, very dark subject matter and a deceptively complex story in the brightest colours and simplest lines possible to leave the readers reeling.
quote by Mark Millar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The brightest flashes in the world of thought are incomplete until they have been proven to have their counterparts in the world of fact.
quote by John Tyndall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Two Men
THERE were two youths of equal age,
Wit, station, strength, and parentage;
They studied at the self-same schools,
And shaped their thoughts by common rules.
One pondered on the life of man,
His hopes, his endings, and began
To rate the Market's sordid war
As something scarce worth living for.
"I'll brace to higher aims," said he,
"I'll further Truth and Purity;
Thereby to mend and mortal lot
And sweeten sorrow. Thrive I not,
"Winning their hearts, my kind will give
Enough that I may lowly live,
And house my Love in some dim dell,
For pleasing them and theirs so well."
Idly attired, with features wan,
In secret swift he labored on;
Such press of power had brought much gold
Applied to things of meaner mould.
Sometimes he wished his aims had been
To gather gains like other men;
Then thanked his God he'd traced his track
Too far for wish to drag him back.
He lookèd from his loft one day
To where his slighted garden lay;
Nettles and hemlock hid each lawn,
And every flower was starved and gone.
He fainted in his heart, whereon
He rose, and sought his plighted one,
Resolved to loose her bond withal,
Lest she should perish in his fall.
He met her with a careless air,
As though he'd ceased to find her fair,
And said: "True love is dust to me;
I cannot kiss: I tire of thee!"
(That she might scorn him was he fain,
To put her sooner out of pain;
For incensed love breathes quick and dies,
When famished love a-lingering lies.)
Once done, his soul was so betossed,
It found no more the force it lost:
Hope was his only drink and food,
And hope extinct, decay ensued.
And, living long so closely penned,
He had not kept a single friend;
He dwindled thin as phantoms be,
And drooped to death in poverty....
Meantime his schoolmate had gone out
To join the fortune-finding rout;
He liked the winnings of the mart,
But wearied of the working part.
He turned to seek a privy lair,
Neglecting note of garb and hair,
And day by day reclined and thought
How he might live by doing nought.
"I plan a valued scheme," he said
To some. "But lend me of your bread,
And when the vast result looms nigh,
In profit you shall stand as I."
Yet they took counsel to restrain
Their kindness till they saw the gain;
And, since his substance now had run,
He rose to do what might be done.
He went unto his Love by night,
And said: "My Love, I faint in fight:
Deserving as thou dost a crown,
My cares shall never drag thee down."
(He had descried a maid whose line
Would hand her on much corn and wine,
And held her far in worth above
One who could only pray and love.)
But this Fair read him; whence he failed
To do the deed so blithely hailed;
He saw his projects wholly marred,
And gloom and want oppressed him hard;
Till, living to so mean an end,
Whereby he'd lost his every friend,
He perished in a pauper sty,
His mate the dying pauper nigh.
And moralists, reflecting, said,
As "dust to dust" in burial read
Was echoed from each coffin-lid,
"These men were like in all they did."
poem by Thomas Hardy
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