Relics
In that stone head, obscenity
Has been preserved a thousand years;
A bible-leaf of families
Have shuddered at the pointed ears.
The sword that hangs upon the wall
Is notched the length of its long blade,
And children at the village school
Dream of the trusses it has mowed.
Close against the lichened tower
Still lives a witch. Around her head
She wears a shawl, and white as flour
Her lips count every step she treads.
But when the dusk-born lovers stand
The figure sobs, 'Oh where's my soul?'
The sword sighs for the long-dead hand,
The old hag huddles from the owl.
poem by Henry Treece
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Ages
In that stone head, obscenity
Has been preserved a thousand years;
A bible-leaf of families
Have shuddered at the pointed ears.
The sword that hangs upon the wall
Is notched the length of its long blade,
And children at the village school
Dream of the trusses it has mowed.
Close against the lichened tower
Still lives a witch. Around her head
She wears a shawl, and white as flour
Her lips count every step she treads.
But when the dusk-born lovers stand
The figure sobs, 'Oh where's my soul?'
The sword sighs for the long-dead hand,
The old hag huddles from the owl.
poem by Henry Treece
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Modern Love I: By This He Knew She Wept
By this he knew she wept with waking eyes:
That, at his hand's light quiver by her head,
The strange low sobs that shook their common bed
Were called into her with a sharp surprise,
And strangled mute, like little gaping snakes,
Dreadfully venomous to him. She lay
Stone-still, and the long darkness flowed away
With muffled pulses. Then, as midnight makes
Her giant heart of Memory and Tears
Drink the pale drug of silence, and so beat
Sleep's heavy measure, they from head to feet
Were moveless, looking through their dead black years,
By vain regret scrawled over the blank wall.
Like sculptured effigies they might be seen
Upon their marriage-tomb, the sword between;
Each wishing for the sword that severs all.
poem by George Meredith
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Love at the lips
Love at the lips was like a heavenly touch
As sweet as one can bare or breathe
Never close to satiety never seemed too much
On the contrary a lightning a dream too brief
A passion written over running water
Time and again she conquered my lips for another slaughter
The hurt that followed was never enough
It made me long for reason and strength
To bare the ripples of pains the waves of agony so rough
The throng of aches through all my body length
The sword of love like I never knew before
Was cutting me faster than the sword of war
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The Wall
I shall beat my head against the wall
Until the moment that I die.
Or until the wall does fall
Then beside it I will sit and cry.
Then on another wall I must beat my head,
Until I just cant stand the pain
Then you will understand what I have said
My loss; will be your gain.
And on that wall will be my blood
And there it will always stay,
Mixed with the stone it will be the mud
And like my pain it wont wash away.
I will pound my head against the wall
Until the moment that I am dead
And only then, will I stand tall
Because then will my anguish will be fed.
As I hold no sorrows or remorse
So much pain that I will release
As this is my only course
And only you this action will it please.
I will pound my head against the wall
Until the moment that I am dead
And from the wall my blood will fall
In remembrance of the words I have said.
Then the world will know that I died that day
As my soul will be all that will be left
And in your mind to GOD you will here me pray,
As my destiny, has then been set.
I will pound my head against this wall
Don't you know that I am dying
Then one day, this time you will recall
As you will know that I never was lying.
My blood will be kept on this old stone wall
And there for you it will always stay
And only then will this man stand tall
Because then you will understand what I did say.
Now only GOD can hear what I am crying
From the actions that I did or even say
Upon this wall please know I was only trying
But until then, it will remind you of myself everyday.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Can You Hear Them?
So sick and tired of living
And so afraid to die
I've lived so many lives
And still I wonder why
The way the world perceives me
Is not the way I am
The one half thinks I'm crazy
The other thinks I'm mad
I spent a long long time alone in my room
I need your help to get me out of this gloom
Can you hear them
All the voices in my head
They freak me out
Can you hear them
They won't be happy 'till I'm dead
They freak me out
Ten thousand million nightmares
Temptation by the score
I used to get so high
And still I wanted more
You think my time is wasted
In search of who I am
I tried to so hard to kill
The boy inside the man
I spent a thousand years one night in my room
I've lived so many lives and that is my doom
Can you hear them
All the voices in my head
They freak me out
Can you hear them
They won't be happy 'till I'm dead
They freak me out
Can you hear them
All the voices in my head
They freak me out
Can you hear them
They won't be happy 'till I'm dead
They freak me out
I never thought I'd smile again
Always thought I'd be here on my own
Sometimes when I'm down
You come and save me again
And again
And again
And again
I'll never understand it
It makes no sense at all
Just look at what I've done
It's time to count the score
I've spent a long long time alone in my room
I need your help to get me out of this gloom
Can you hear them
All the voices in my head
They freak me out
Can you hear them
They won't be happy 'till I'm dead
They freak me out
Can you hear them
All the voices in my head
They freak me out
Can you hear them
They won't be happy 'till I'm dead
They freak me out
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne from Down To Earth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Power Of Thy Sword
Lord of battle I pray on bended knee conquest by the rising sun
I'll wait for thy command with flame and blood at hand
glory and a broken sword.
I'm the master of the world I have no fear of man or beast
Born inside the soul of the world
Riding hard breaking bone with steel and stone
Eternal might I was born to wield.
Let us drink to the battles we've lived and we've fought
Celebrate the pain and havoc we have wrought
Great heroes charge into the fight
From the north to the south in the black of night
The clash of honor calls to stand when others fall
Gods of war feel the power of my sword
Drink to the battles we've lived and we've fought
Celebrate the pain and havoc we have wrought
Great heroes charge into the fight
From the north to the south in the black of night
Fierce is my blade fierce is my hate born to die in battle
I laugh at my fate
Now pay in blood when your blood has been spilled
You're never forgiven death is fulfilled !
The clash of honor calls to stand when others fall
Gods of war feel the power of my sword
The clash of honor calls
I will stand when others fall
Open magic doors
The will know the power of my sword
There is blood in my hands there is blood in my eyes
With blood in my voice I scream as you die
Thirsting for vengeance and mounds of the slain
Shaking the forest onto the plain
Fierce is my blade fierce is my hate born to die in battle
I laugh at my fate
Now pay in blood when your blood has been spilled
You're never forgiven death is fulfilled !
The clash of honor calls to stand when others fall
Gods of war feel the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
They will know the power of my sword
song performed by by Manowar from The Triumph Of Steel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dead Soldier
Where the sword has opened the way the man will follow
'Look! they came, the triumphant army!
Over yon hill see their weapons peeping!'
Still I spoke not but my wheel sent turning,
I closed my eyes for my heart was weeping,
My heart was weeping for a dead soldier.
Who is he who looks towards me?
''Tis no man but a gay flag flying.'
Red was his mouth and his white brow thoughtful,
Blue his eyes—how my soul is crying,
My soul is crying for a dead soldier.
'Kneel ye down, lest your eyes should dare them,
Kneel ye down and your beads be saying.'
'Lord, on their heads Thy wrath deliver,'
This is the prayer that my lips are praying,
My heart is praying for a dead soldier.
'Best cheer the path of the men victorious,
For he is dead and his blade lies broken,
His march is far where no aid can follow,
And for his people he left no token,
He left no token, the dead soldier.'
The way of the sword a man can follow,
See the young child with his gold hair gleaming.
When falls the oak must the acorn perish?
He lifts the blade and his eyes are dreaming,
He dreams the dream of the dead soldier.
poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
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Symbols
A STORM BEATEN old watch-tower,
A blind hermit rings the hour.
All-destroying sword-blade still
Carried by the wandering fool.
Gold-sewn silk on the sword-blade,
Beauty and fool together laid.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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a village in Iberia
A Village in Iberia
Drove to the village where I was born, hadn’t been there
for forty years, the lane was muddy and houses deserted;
this village had been abandoned long time ago; what was
I thinking of coming here? A tree had grown right through
our cottage, roof smashed now walls were tumbling down.
Puny human dwellings, here today and gone in less than
Ten decades, the tree seemed to say. What a nostalgic fool
I’m, this idea of returning, rebuild the old house and live
here in happy retirement.
This was no longer a village but a graveyard, houses were
tombstones of a past that had nothing to offer but poverty,
glassless window resembled crosses of a defunct faith.
I sat on a stone smoking a cigarette the aroma of wafted
through the drab silence, from behind a broken wall a dog
came, young, and it looked eerily like Stella the dog I loved
all those years ago, don’t tell me she has waited for five
dog generations, to return from the wasteland of eternity
just for me?
“I’ll call you Stella”, I said and stroked the dog’s head.
She knitted her brows together as to say, “What else? ”
I opened the right hand car door, Stella jumped in like she
had done this a thousand time before, drove off and didn’t
look back once, the only memory I need of my childhood,
was alive and snoozing in the seat beside me.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Village
A Village in Iberia
Drove to the village where I was born, hadn’t been there
for forty years, the lane was muddy and houses deserted;
this village had been abandoned long time ago; what was
I thinking of coming here? A tree had grown right through
our cottage, roof smashed now walls were tumbling down.
Puny human dwellings, here today and gone in less than
Ten decades, the tree seemed to say. What a nostalgic fool
I’m, this idea of returning, rebuild the old house and live
here in happy retirement.
This was no longer a village but a graveyard, houses were
tombstones of a past that had nothing to offer but poverty,
glassless window resembled crosses of a defunct faith.
I sat on a stone smoking a cigarette the aroma of wafted
through the drab silence, from behind a broken wall a dog
came, young, and it looked eerily like Stella the dog I loved
all those years ago, don’t tell me she has waited for five
dog generations, to return from the wasteland of eternity
just for me?
“I’ll call you Stella”, I said and stroked the dog’s head.
She knitted her brows together as to say, “What else? ”
I opened the right hand car door, Stella jumped in like she
had done this a thousand time before, drove off and didn’t
look back once, the only memory I needed of my childhood,
was alive and snoozing in the seat beside me.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Vault--After Sedgmoor
You need not call at the Inn;
I have ordered my bed:
Fair linen sheets therein
And a tester of lead.
No musty fusty scents
Such as inn chambers keep,
But tapestried with content
And hung with sleep.
My Inn door bears no bar
Set up against fear.
The guests have journeyed far,
They are glad to be here.
Where the damp arch curves up grey,
Long, long shall we lie;
Good King's men all are they,
A King's man I.
Old Giles, in his stone asleep,
Fought at Poictiers.
Piers Ralph and Roger keep
The spoil of their fighting years.
I shall lie with my folk at last
In a quiet bed;
I shall dream of the sword held fast
In a round-capped head.
Good tale of men all told
My Inn affords;
And their hands peace shall hold
That once held swords.
And we who rode and ran
On many a loyal quest
Shall find the goal of man -
A bed, and rest.
We shall not stand to the toast
Of Love or King;
We be all too tired to boast
About anything.
We be dumb that did jest and sing;
We rest who laboured and warred . . .
Shout once, shout once for the King.
Shout once for the sword!
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sands Of The Times
i watch you
with a burden,
a big stone and a rope
your neck is thin,
the skin is white and smooth
over there is another
pitiful creature
with another burden
a sword hangs over his head
dwindling
we are watching one another
on a Thursday noon
we are all three
Sufferers
our mouths are gagged
we cannot speak
if only our eyes can speak
the language of the
helpless and the
maimed
the world's ears could have
cracked its
drums
the world's indifference
conceals us
and when we die
we are erased like bad marks
on the sand
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Stone
The stone
The stone by the dave matthews band
Ive this creeping, suspicion that things here are not as they seem.
Reassure me, oh why do I feel as if Im in too deep.
Now Ive been praying, for some way to show them Im not what they see.
Yes I have done wrong, but what I did I thought needed be done, I swear.
Oh, unholy day, if I leave now I might get away.
Oh but this weighs on me, as heavy as stone and as blue as I go.
I was just wondering if youd come along.
Hold up my head when my head wont hold on.
Ill do the same if the sames what you want,
If not Ill go, I will go a long...
..long way, ah, from that fools mistake.
And now forever pay, no run, I will run and Ill be ok.
I was just wondering if youd come along.
Hold up my head when my head wont hold on.
Ill do the same if the sames what you want,
But if not Ill go, I will go a long...
...long way, to bury the past for I dont want to pay.
Oh how I wish, this, to turn back the clock and do over again.
Now Im hust wondering if youd come a-long.
Hold up my head when my head wont hold on.
Ill do the same if the sames what you want,
But if not Ill go, Ill go alone.
I need so, to stay in your arms, see you smile, hold you close.
And now it weighs on me, as heavy as stone and of bone chilling cold.
I was just wondering if youd come a--long.
Tell me you will.
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Long Distance
Spent last winter playing in the sand
With the prisoners of the motherland
Damn hotel is feeling like a cell
And even paradise can be so cruel
Sitting by the swimming pool
Trying to keep my head together
In that hot australia weather
Three days to kill and my per diems getting low
cause I spent all my money calling long distance
Calling long distance, such a long way from home
Am I talking to long distance, can you put me through?
Twelve thousand miles but Ive got not resistance,
Long distance, long distance, long distance, long distance
Now the road hogs face is turning red
Larrys still asleep in bed
Romeo he cant get no head at all
And the doctor looks on so annoyed
You disappoint me, mr. boyd
And the electric dwarf wishes he was six foot tall
Now romeos patience is wearing thin
Cmon baby, let me in
Its five a.m. and Ive been creeping round the hall
Got no resistance calling long distance
You sound so close but your such a long way from home
Am I talking to long distance, can you put me through?
Twelve thousand miles but Ive got not resistance,
Long distance, long distance, long distance, long distance
Still no points for my merrymen,
Except ricard, he just scored ten
Now road hogs getting drunk again
And I only get to hold my pen
Instead of what I love to hold the most.
I feel so lonesome I could cry
Count the hours as they roll by
Its day time now
I think Ill make a call
Hello long distance, calling long distance
You sound so close but youre such a long way from home
Youre such a long way from home
Have to admit I got no resistance to the red light on the wall
The message said I got a call,
Long distance, long distance, long distance, long distance
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sword Of Mine
The Sword that I carry
Though made not of iron or steel,
It is a mighty sword
That I proudly do so wield.
Though it wont break the skin
Or combat the weapons of a foe
But this is a mighty sword of mine
More precious than silver or gold.
This sword that I carry
I proudly display it in my hand,
For I know this sword of mine
Is greater, than any other mans.
It comforts me when I am tired
It will warm me when I am cold
It will lie down beside of me
To protect, and strengthen my soul.
The sword that I hold
Is tattered, and so very worn
It has been a friend along side of me,
In the sunshine and many storms.
It has shown me a path to follow
And has lit the road that I walk,
And those nights when I was alone and scared
Then to me, I could hear it talk.
The sword that I wield
Though may be different, in shape or size,
But it is the same sword
Which for years has cushioned the souls cry.
It has been here since the dawn of time
And will be here when the great walls fall,
And then when all men of war and hate reflect,
My sword, will be the mightiest sword of all.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jesus Will Return To You As The Word Of God
Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thy art still
now and forever, the Holy City of our Lord;
Jesus will return to you as “The Word Of God”.
When in judgement the heavens open behold
a white horse, the one seated upon it called
“Faithful and True”, he judges carries on war
in righteousness. His eyes are a fiery flame,
upon his head are many diadems. He his a name,
a secret name written, unknown to any but himself.
He is arrayed with an outer garment sprinkled
with blood, the name he is called is “The Word Of God”.
The armies of heaven are following him on white horses,
clothed in white, clean, fine linen. Out of his mouth
protrudes a sharp long sword, that he may strike
the nations with this sword! He will shepherd nations
with a rod of iron. He treads too the winepress
of the anger of the wrath of God the Almighty.
Upon his outer garment, even upon his thigh,
He has a name written, “King of kings and Lord of lords”.
Revelation 19: 11- 16.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Mummia
As those of old drank mummia
To fire their limbs of lead,
Making dead kings from Africa
Stand pandar to their bed;
Drunk on the dead, and medicined
With spiced imperial dust,
In a short night they reeled to find
Ten centuries of lust.
So I, from paint, stone, tale, and rhyme,
Stuffed love's infinity,
And sucked all lovers of all time
To rarify ecstasy.
Helen's the hair shuts out from me
Verona's livid skies;
Gypsy the lips I press; and see
Two Antonys in your eyes.
The unheard invisible lovely dead
Lie with us in this place,
And ghostly hands above my head
Close face to straining face;
Their blood is wine along our limbs;
Their whispering voices wreathe
Savage forgotten drowsy hymns
Under the names we breathe;
Woven from their tomb, and one with it,
The night wherein we press;
Their thousand pitchy pyres have lit
Your flaming nakedness.
For the uttermost years have cried and clung
To kiss your mouth to mine;
And hair long dust was caught, was flung,
Hand shaken to hand divine,
And Life has fired, and Death not shaded,
All Time's uncounted bliss,
And the height o' the world has flamed and faded,
Love, that our love be this!
poem by Rupert Brooke
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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You Never Know
Sun still stone
Watching
We walk by them and hear voices yeah
No one ever stops to talk of things we'd rather do
They never did
What if God shuffled by
One day we might say
We're angry not afraid
Like breathing just to breathe
That we might find some reason
But there's much to go round
That's what's wrong with the world
Don't lose the dreams inside your head
They're only there until you're dead
Dream
Lying on the roof
Counting
The stars that fill the sky
Wondering why
Someone out there really isn't looking back down on me
You never know
So much space to believe
Only when you're small
A moment follows the cause
There's no one but you see
Hey there the moon is chasing me
And I worried if I looked away she'd be gone
Don't lose the dreams inside your head
They're only there until you're dead
Dream
Oh oh oh la la la
One day fill your brain
With no cares in the world
The mellow tune come to play
She's all mine just for a day
And there's no time to waste
In the play of this game
Don't lose the dreams inside your head
They're only there until you're dead
Dream
Unforgiveable down
It won't be so long now
Out of the darkness comes light
Like a flash
You think you can you think you can
Sometimes that is the problem
Dream
Is it your dream
Dream
Spilling on being
And he fell on them
And every day should be a good day to die
Oh oh fall down
It won't be so long now
I do love I'll hand love
I find it hard to explain
How I got here
I think I can I think I can
but then again I will falter
dream
I think I can I think I can
I think I can I think I can
Oh dream
Little darling
Dream
Spilling on being
We fell from them
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band from Busted Stuff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hide and Seek
Wrap the shawl of twilight
Around your shoulders tonight
Come out and play
Hide and seek
In the cementery
Stand still as a stone
Don't you even breathe
Lest your presence now
You'll give yourself away
Dash from tree
And stone to stone
And all along the way
You're humming nonsense songs
No complaints or now they say
See the orange and weary moon
Raise his orbic head
Saying something, not quite sure
He's muttering to the dead
There is no sound, none what be
Except your beating heart
Evening mists drearily insists
Not a soul be found
poem by Midnights Voice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hope Dieth: Hope Liveth
Strong are thine arms, O love, & strong
Thine heart to live, and love, and long;
But thou art wed to grief and wrong:
Live, then, and long, though hope be dead!
Live on, & labour thro’ the years!
Make pictures through the mist of tears,
Of unforgotten happy fears,
That crossed the time ere hope was dead.
Draw near the place where once we stood
Amid delight’s swift-rushing flood,
And we and all the world seemed good
Nor needed hope now cold and dead.
Dream in the dawn I come to thee
Weeping for things that may not be!
Dream that thou layest lips on me!
Wake, wake to clasp hope’s body dead!
Count o’er and o’er, and one by one
The minutes of the happy sun
That while agone on kissed lips shone,
Count on, rest not, for hope is dead.
Weep, though no hair’s breadth thou shalt move
The living Earth, the heaven above
By all the bitterness of love!
Weep and cease not, now hope is dead!
Sighs rest thee not, tears bring no ease,
Life hath no joy, and Death no peace:
The years change not, though they decrease,
For hope is dead, for hope is dead.
Speak, love, I listen: far away
I bless the tremulous lips, that say,
“Mock not the afternoon of day,
Mock not the tide when hope is dead!”
I bless thee, O my love, who say’st:
“Mock not the thistle-cumbered waste;
I hold Love’s hand, and make no haste
Down the long way, now hope is dead.
With other names do we name pain,
The long years wear our hearts in vain.
Mock not our loss grown into gain,
Mock not our lost hope lying dead.
Our eyes gaze for no morning-star,
No glimmer of the dawn afar;
Full silent wayfarers we are
Since ere the noon-tide hope lay dead.
Behold with lack of happiness
The master, Love, our hearts did bless
Lest we should think of him the less:
Love dieth not, though hope is dead!”
poem by William Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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