The Soul of a Poet
I HAVE written, long years I have written
For the sake of my people and right,
I was true when the iron had bitten
Deep into my soul in the night;
And I wrote not for praise nor for money,
I craved but the soul and the pen,
And I felt not the sting in the honey
Of praising the kindness of men.
You read and you saw without seeing,
My work seemed a trifle apart,
While the truth of things thrilled through my being,
And the wrong of things murdered my heart!
Cast out and despised and neglected,
And weak, and in fear, and in debt,
My songs, mutilated, rejected,
Shall ring through the Commonwealth yet!
And you, too, the pure and the guileless,
In the peace of your comfort and pride,
You have mocked at my bodily vileness,
You have tempted and cast me aside.
But wronged, and cast out, drink-sodden,
But shunned, and insane and unclean,
I have dared where few others have trodden,
I have seen what few others have seen.
I have seen your souls bare for a season,
I have heard as a deaf man can hear,
I have seen you deprived of your reason
And stricken with deadliest fear.
And when beautiful night hid the shocking
Black shame of the day that was past,
I felt the great universe rocking
With the truth that was coming at last!
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Stepping out of the Shadows
Afraid to do the things I really want to do,
Afraid to express what they are for fear of hurting you,
Afraid to say them out loud because someone might hear,
Afraid to tell the truth about what I really fear!
To live in fear is what we all do each and every day.
To admit it to ourselves is something we dare not ever say.
To step out of our comfort zone and do what we really feel,
Creates so much fear deep within, it can never be for real.
Those that came before us set the trend for what we dare,
Little did they know they were limiting us by fear,
Their intention seemed good back then, or so they really thought,
We sold our soul to trends, our creativity was bought!
How do we lose the fear that's our's and get back to being true.
How do we stand big and tall and do all that we can do.
We start by being not afraid and doing what we want,
Perhaps we can shake off the dust and wash away the taunt.
The taunt that says it must be so, it's always been that way,
We sleep at night and try to cram all things into the day.
Whose rules are these I ask of you, they were not born with me,
Perhaps they grew out back with you beside the money tree.
My money tree is dead and gone without ever bearing a dime,
I tried your way and lived in fear for quite a long long time.
My fear is gone and so I must create and start things new,
The trends are gone, I'm not afraid, I wish the same for you!
poem by Terry Holder
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What Is There Written In The Depths Deep Therein?
Who has the courage
to look into the depths?
Of their own immortal soul
to read what is written there?
How often across the scores of years
the same sentiments keep reoccurring!
How often have you heard?
‘I do not want you to see the truth
To see too far into the depths of my soul’
It seems only a few dare
look into their own souls!
To see what is there written
in the depths deep therein!
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An Echoing Truth
In a world of right and wrong, we have Truth, that echoes strong,
And from the world’s ancient past, God’s Truth shall forever last,
To be for men a guide and light, for discerning wrong from right;
God’s Guiding Truth for every need, when souls choose to heed.
God’s Word echoes loud and clear, as men of true wisdom fear,
God who reigns above the earth, who gives The Word true worth,
God, Who spoke this world in place, opens hearts by His Grace,
And with that Grace He will impart, Eternal Truth into man’s heart.
A Book, that many seldom read, has the Truth that all men need,
While others never even heard, the Eternal Truths in God’s Word;
Eternal Truths that man can trust, which were written for all of us,
Truth revealed to all the world, which all believers need to herald.
This truth’s more than knowledge of, The One who reigns above,
But what He had did for everyone, sending Christ, His Only Son,
His Truth, revealed to every nation, leads a soul to His Salvation,
When they come to Jesus Christ, that soul, receives Eternal Life.
Open The Word and you will see, Truth about our present reality,
And you will see through history, others pointing men to eternity,
How Godly men of old would tell, others about Heaven and Hell,
Knowing all are just one breath, away from Eternal Life or Death.
(Copyright ©06/2010)
My 'Habakkuk' experience
Things were bleak and the outlook was bad.
My soul despaired and my heart was sad.
No job and no income. How shall I provide?
I needed to know that God was on my side.
'What shall I read? ', I said to the Lord
thumbing the pages of His Living Word.
'Read Habakkuk', He said to me so clearly
so I read my bible as He commanded me.
I felt much worse as the first chapter I read
'This is not helping me', to the Lord I said.
'Read on dear Roy', the Lord said to me
and so I read on in faith, obediently.
And then I found it. There in chapter three.
Written so clearly as though just for me.
It lifted my soul to the heavens above
and assured me of God's presence and love.
'Though nothing on earth seems to bloom
and all appears to be doom and gloom,
no sheep in the pen, no cattle in the stall
and no grapes growing on the vine at all.'
'Though the olive crop does not yield
and no produce comes from the field,
even though the fig tree does not bud,
yet still my soul will rejoice in the Lord.'
'I will joy in the God of my salvation,
give Him all my praise and adoration.'
Here on earth 'The just shall live by faith'
for trusting in the Lord they will be safe.'
The things of this world are so unreliable.
They come and go, they rise and they fall.
But heavenly treasures neither fade nor fail
outlasting all things they will prevail.
Secure in the knowledge that God's in control
and that He's the keeper of my immortal soul.
I said to my soul 'Be not cast down or sad'
'But rejoice in the Lord always and be glad'
In The Territory of The Gerasenes
From deep inside
I heard them,
howling hatred
lashing me with my own hands
gashing the rocky tombs
with my own bloody feet.
Late at night
they cursed and fought
deep inside
my aching skull.
I was their prisoner,
and they were many…
But then I saw Him by the lake
and my soul leapt
even as Legion arose
and with my ragged voice raged,
“what will you do to us? ”
My soul cried louder,
“Save me! ”
Hearing us both,
He drove dark spirits
from my unclean breast
and into the beasts poor swine.
Madness cast them
into death’s deep pit
but I could hear only
silence.
Peace
filled me.
My hand moved
only when I commanded,
and what my eyes saw
I clearly viewed.
The people of the village
fearing a man who could
compel demons,
begged Him to leave.
Blind fools!
If only they could see Him
as I do.
As he was going, I begged to go too
and stay forever in the light
of his face.
But this grace
was not
for me alone
He told me to go
and proclaim without fear
how His love saved me
from my soul’s dark night,
and led me here, into
bright paradise,
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Early Works - I’ve
I’ve walked near waves
where fishermen have cast their nets.
I’ve walked through thorns
that have cut and scratched.
I’ve felt cupid’s arrow pierce my heart,
and then felt the arrow torn out,
as my heart has been broken apart.
I’ve walked near a cliff
where suicides have cast and fallen.
I’ve walked through a cave
where blackness soaks up all light.
I’ve felt the torment and frustration of love
when hearts are woven as one,
then split apart by the sound of a gun.
I’ve walked near canyons
where one’s voice answers back.
I’ve walked on pebbles where seeds
have fallen and have been strangled of life.
I’ve felt the heaviness of parting,
the fear of falling
and the joys of love meeting.
Date Written Unknown
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cast Off All My Fears
Ones I was on my one and falling
Ones I was all alone and calling
For some one anyone to day
To help me just a little on my way
And then I took a look around
I saw all that love that surronded me
I know that it was all up to me and
Cast off all my fears that bound me
Cast off all my fears that bound me
You find you cant go on deppending
Allways to help your in deep ending
Your reason for beeing whom you are
And asking for that lightest brightest star
I tought that all I had to do
Was beleaving the things that was true to me
And let it happen naturlie
And cast off all my fears that bound me
Cast off all my fears that bound me
Solo
I tought that all I had to do
Was beleaving the things that was true to me
And let it happen naturlie
And cast off all my fears that bound me
Cast off all my fears that bound me
Cast off all my fears that bound me
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Sweet empty sky of June without a stain,
O Lord, the hope of Israel, all they that forsake
Thee shall be ashamed ; and they that depart from
Thee, shall be written in the earth, because they have
forsaken the Lord, the fountain of living waters.
Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed ; save me,
and I shall be saved, for Thou art my health, and my
great deliverer.
I said in the cutting off of my days, I shall go to
the gates of the grave ; I have deprived myself of the
residue of my years.
I said, I shall not see the Lord, even the Lord in the
land of the living : I shall behold man no more with
the inhabitants of the world.
O Lord ! by Thee doth man live, and from Thee is
the life of my spirit : therefore wilt Thou recover me,
and make me to live.
Thou hast in love to my soul delivered it from the
pit of corruption ; for Thou hast cast all my sins
behind Thy back.
For Thy name's sake hast Thou put off thine anger ;
for Thy praise hast Thou refrained from me, that I
should not be cut off.
For the grave cannot praise Thee, death cannot
celebrate Thee : they that go down into the pit, cannot
hope for Thy truth.
The living, the living, he shall praise Thee, as I do
this day : the father to the children shall make known
Thy truth.
O Lord ! Thou hast been merciful, Thou hast
brought back my life from corruption : Thou hast
redeemed me from my sin.
They that follow after lying vanities, forsake their
own mercy.
Therefore shall Thy songs be with me, and my
prayer unto the God of my life.
I will go unto the altar of my God, unto God, the
joy of my youth ; and in Thy fear will I worship
towards Thy holy temple.
I will sacrifice unto Thee with the voice of thanks-
giving ; I will pay that which I have vowed ; sal-
vation is of the Lord.
poem by Henry Vaughan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
One Woman's Memory
Here is a lock of his soft, dark hair,
And here are the letters he wrote to me.
And the ring of gold that I used to wear
Is here in the casket-see!
I put them away ten years ago.
'What is it,' you ask, 'did I love in vain?
Was my lover unfaithful?' No, oh! no.
My heart was spared that pain.
He died in the bloom of his manhood's youth.
You say I have his memory, friend;
That he is not dead, but lives, in truth;
Wait till you hear the end.
Death in itself is a little thing,
It is only passing from here to there;
But a death of shame has a bitter sting
That makes it hard to bear.
He was good and true as a man could be,
Noble and pure, when I loved him first;
But all of his race were cursed, you see,
With a fiery, craving thirst.
And the tempter, morning and noon and night,
Was placed in his path by a mother's hand.
The woe of wine, and its blasting blight,
She did not understand.
I did not know, or I did not think,
Of the awful shame that was hidden there
When I saw him lift the glass, and drink
To the health of his 'lady fair.'
I knew and I thought when it was too late.
I reached out my hands, but I could not save.
He hurried on to his fearful fate,
And sank in a drunkard's grave.
He was good, and kind, and true, but weak
When the ruby wine danced o'er the brim.
And woe is me that I did not speak
One warning word to him!
If I had but told him to cast away,
To touch not and taste not the mocker, wine,
I need not have felt as I feel to-day
That blood stains these hands of mine.
O ye who have friends on the awful brink
That hangs o'er the river of ruin and death!
When you see them lift the glass, oh! think
Of the jaggèd rocks beneath.
Reach out a hand ere the deed is done.
Send forth a cry in the dear Lord's name.
Oh! stand not aloof while a precious one
Speeds down to a grave of shame.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Great Poetry?
How could anyone ever truly
Define great poetry?
Factors are so many that contribute
To the way each person does hear-feel-and see.
The season, the day, the very time,
Along with each readers wisdom-knowledge-and mind.
A line read one day
May deeply stir the spirit
While the very next time read
The reader simply just can't 'get-it'.
Besides, who is to judge,
And who is to decide?
Who always speaks truth,
And who pray tell has never lied?
Let the one who has never struggled with emotion and word
Cast the first critical stone,
Let the pure, perfect poet
Read and write completely all alone;
Enshrined by himself
Upon his own empty throne.
After all, it is supposed to be
A bit (or more) of myth and mystery,
A little difficult to decipher, somewhat vague,
Meant to speak, but not brag.
For Goodness sake, it's poetry.
Not prose, not essay, and certainly not the news.
It's forms are many and free,
It's thoughts different and deep,
It's direction everywhere the heart can see,
It's origin, and destination, ineffable...
But to write, one must try, or die... such is the poems strength.
So, let the creator of words create.
With wild and wonderful words to decipher and debate;
And never let the beauty of it all
In trivial criticism suffocate.
What is great poetry though you still inquire?
I should have told you from the start;
(But, then you would not have listened)
Great poetry is always, and only,
Beautiful words written truly
From, and for, the heart.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ballad (Bells Of Eternity, Part Two)
and the bodies of the children,
testify against the night.
we cover the graves, mechanical slaves,
never dividing wrong from right.
leaving the ghosts of eternity
to sweep these dusty floors.
by the fire of our own desires,
waiting for the knock upon the door.
and battered hands never reaching,
bridges we never crossed.
too drunk with fear to name our tears,
too blind to count the loss.
only the few who dared to bleed,
who made the human sacrifice...
will wear the wings of freedom's dreams,
when the truth defeats the lie.
we take the plunge of consequence,
cursed by the die that's cast.
the future written by choice discretions,
the past is still the past.
by Jesus's tomb, or Allah's shrine,
prayers burn throughout the night.
but only the caring of the daring
can restore the blind man's sight!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Desert Island
Cast away on a desert island
Me and poor crusoe are sharing the same fate
Cast away on a desert island
With great britain written on its name plate
With my umbrella I go walking
Through all the sands on a building site
Across the shopping malls and motorways
Birds from heathrow fill the
Night with people flying to escape
Friday comforts me and says its pay day
Cast away on a desert island . . .
The game and coconuts is plentiful
You pick em right off of a supermarket shelf
And all the man-eaters are parked away
Down in garages
While their selfish owners drinking to escape
Lord of flies with cocktails in his conch shell
Dont rescue me, no
This is my home sweet home dear
Dont rescue me, no
I am far from alone here
Cast away on a desert island
Me and one nation are sharing the same fate
Cast away on a desert island
With great britain written on its name plate
Cast away on a desert island
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Hymn For The Celebration Of Emancipation At Newburyport
NOT unto us who did but seek
The word that burned within to speak,
Not unto us this day belong
The triumph and exultant song.
Upon us fell in early youth
The burden of unwelcome truth,
And left us, weak and frail and few,
The censor's painful work to do.
Thenceforth our life a fight became,
The air we breathed was hot with blame;
For not with gauged and softened tone
We made the bondman's cause our own.
We bore, as Freedom's hope forlorn,
The private hate, the public scorn;
Yet held through all the paths we trod
Our faith in man and trust in God.
We prayed and hoped; but still, with awe,
The coming of the sword we saw;
We heard the nearing steps of doom,
We saw the shade of things to come.
In grief which they alone can feel
Who from a mother's wrong appeal,
With blended lines of fear and hope
We cast our country's horoscope.
For still within her house of life
We marked the lurid sign of strife,
And, poisoning and imbittering all,
We saw the star of Wormwood fall.
Deep as our love for her became
Our hate of all that wrought her shame,
And if, thereby, with tongue and pen
We erred, — we were but mortal men.
We hoped for peace; our eyes survey
The blood-red dawn of Freedom's day:
We prayed for love to loose the chain;
'T is shorn by battle's axe in twain!
Nor skill nor strength nor zeal of ours
Has mined and heaved the hostile towers;
Not by our hands is turned the key
That sets the sighing captives free.
A redder sea than Egypt's wave
Is piled and parted for the slave;
A darker cloud moves on in light;
A fiercer fire is guide by night!
The praise, O Lord! is Thine alone,
In Thy own way Thy work is done!
Our poor gifts at Thy feet we cast,
To whom be glory, first and last!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Truth Is Wealth
Truth is power, truth is true wealth,
Truth is unequalled ultimate strength,
Truth makes soul its own king
And makes the angels in heaven sing,
Truth is joy, truth is sunshine,
Truth is heart's pristine sheen.
Truth is true friend if we side with it,
And the deadliest foe while stand against it,
Truth strikes terror in law-breakers' heart
And shakes those hearts that go short of it,
For truth is all, truth is tall,
No noble soul ever refrains from its call.
Truth is might, truth is true light,
Truth is the path always is right.
poem by Pratheek Praveen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Music Of The Night
In the night the music plays,
I lay alone in the covers hidden from the dark,
I do not turn I do not look, I listen to the music play,
The horror of reality has left its’ mark,
On my soul, on my mind,
I am alone in the truth, in the past.
I know what they have seen, as others are blind,
I know the cast,
Of their play, of their lives,
Yet I still lay here scared, weak,
It is on my knowing that they thrive,
So I am left, weak.
The music plays over the sounds, all their goodbyes
I do not hear them, yet I feel them,
I see their faces, their eyes,
I know they hold onto life by it’s hem,
Trying not to let go, to hold to life,
They hold onto me, my mind,
I am their source of life,
And so I lay, waiting for sleep,
I lay with the nightlights in their small light,
Yet still the darkness is so deep,
For this is the same every day, I fall asleep, to the music of the night.
~This is the truth, this is how I live, this is my night.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
And What Have You To Say?
I MIND the days when ladies fair
Helped on my overcoat,
And tucked the silken handkerchief
About my precious throat;
They used to see the poet’s soul
In every song I wrote.
They pleaded hard, but I had work
To do, and could not stay
I used to work the whole night through,
And what have you to say?
’Twas clever, handsome woman then,
And I their rising star;
I could not see they worshipped me,
Because I saw too far.
(’Tis well for one or two, I think,
That things are as they are.)
(I used to write for writing’s sake,
I used to write till day,
I loved my prose and poetry,
And what have you to say?)
I guess if one should meet me now
That she would gasp to think,
She ever knew a thing like me,
As down the street I slink,
And trembling cadge from some old pal
The tray-bit for a drink.
I used to drink with gentlemen
To pass an hour away:
I drink long beers in common bars,
And what have you to say?
But often, in the darkest night
(And ’tis a wondrous thing)—
When others see the devils dance,
I hear the angels sing,
And round the drunkard’s lonely bed
Heaven’s nurses whispering.
I wrote for Truth and Right alone,
I wrote from night till day;
I’ll find a drunken pauper grave,
And what have you to say?
Good night!
Good day!
My noble friends,
And what have you to say?
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Give yourself a Show: New Year's Eve
TO my fellow sinners all, who, in hope and doubt,
Through the Commonwealth to-night watch the Old Year out,
New Year’s Resolutions are jerry-built I know,
But I want to say to you, “Give yourselves a show”.
You who drink for drinking’s sake, love for lust alone,
Thinking heaven is a myth and the world your own—
Dancing gaily down to hell in the devil’s dance—
This I have to say to you: “Give your souls a chance”.
You who drink because of shame that you think will last,
Or because of wrong done you—trouble in the past—
“Nothing left to live for now,” you will say, I know;
But you have your own self yet, give that self a show!
You who want all things on earth—money, love, and fame
Having the advantage of worldly place or name—
You who have more than you want, even than you know,
In the glorious New Year give someone else a show.
You, the mischief-makers all, who in secret glee
Love to tell the villainies of a scamp like me;
There are things he’ll never tell—things you’ll never know—
Look into your own lives first—give the man a show.
You, the politician, who, for jealousy or gold,
Or for mean ambition, sell, or see your country sold,
Pandering to the hollow crowd, toadying to the low,
For shame’s sake banish selfishness—give your land a show.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fears of a teenage mafioso
Fear of love,
Fear of pain,
Fear of the unforgiving cane,
Fear of lies,
Fear of sighs,
Fear of those distraught eyes,
Fear for the unknown,
Fear for the known,
Fear of everything combined,
Fear is what makes me blind,
Fear is what makes me think,
and act in blind accordance,
Hindering the world around me,
Hence, My Fear of myself
Fear is when you run away,
Fear is when you’re scared to love someone,
Fear is when the sky turns grey,
Fear of confusion,
Fear is like a dark blue ocean,
Fear won’t let me escape
Fear mocks me, watching
Fear taunts me, waiting
Fear of losing,
Fear you cannot see,
Fear dealt upon thee.
Fear of darkness and death,
Fear of a dead comrade,
Fear of a gun being cocked,
Fear of being endlessly stalked,
Fear of time,
Fear of all the crime,
Fear of the undesirable truth,
Fear for the good.
Fear for the sake of life,
Fear of the neighbors next door,
Fear of the secretive man in the subway,
Fear of the revolutionary uproar,
Fear is to not rejoice your living,
Fear for the sake of your life,
But to fear is to forsake it.
Fear is to have no hope in life,
Fear of the fear of fear,
We need no reason to fear,
For fear has no reason for itself.
I guess life is just like that,
To fear for no reason,
For to fear is not to reason,
But to reason is to fear.
To fear for the sake of fear,
Is fear for fear,
So let me think,
What else do I fear?
What else do I fear?
What else do I fear?
poem by David daveres
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cast Away Souls
If you do not cast away souls
My living and dying shall cease;
I shall come with love and bear corn,
Like the fields of heavenly gardens.
My offspring will reject the truth
And then return to it.
If you do not love my soul,
Then it will speak wonders and miracles
For you to cast away souls;
And for me this will cause contentment.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dyes Cast
Each night
As he drops his head
To the deep dream
Of the dark bed,
A shape beckons him
Wellaway
From the starlight
And the dim day.
A mare
Black as a spade, calls
From the dark hill
As the wind falls,
The reeds mutter
The night is black
As he leaps blind
To the mare’s back.
Then like the roar
Of an ill wind
Or a black flame
From the devil’s kiln,
The mare speeds
To the night’s work
By the old mill
And the dark Kirk.
Shapes flutter
And leap alight
Before they sputter
And, out of sight
Disport and mutter
Of black arts
To see the mare
And the rider pass.
Hour on hour
He clings to scenes
Of dark images,
Wild dreams
And chance friends
From the dead past
In the grim haunts
Of dyes cast.
His face burns
And tears stream
In the long night
Of the dark dream,
He clings grim
To the mare’s back
For his soul’s sake
And a long lack.
The day brinks
At night’s mist;
‘There may be nothing
More than this, ’
The mare fades
From his wide eyes –
But the thoughts bide,
And the old lies.
‘There may be nothing
More than this! ’
And his mind seeks
The mare, the mist;
‘There may be nought
But the dead past,
And the dark haunts
Of dyes cast.’
27 December 1978
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!