Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. Interlude VI.
Thus closed the tale of guilt and gloom,
That cast upon each listener's face
Its shadow, and for some brief space
Unbroken silence filled the room.
The Jew was thoughtful and distressed;
Upon his memory thronged and pressed
The persecution of his race,
Their wrongs and sufferings and disgrace;
His head was sunk upon his breast,
And from his eyes alternate came
Flashes of wrath and tears of shame.
The Student first the silence broke,
As one who long has lain in wait,
With purpose to retaliate,
And thus he dealt the avenging stroke.
'In such a company as this,
A tale so tragic seems amiss,
That by its terrible control
O'ermasters and drags down the soul
Into a fathomless abyss.
The Italian Tales that you disdain,
Some merry Night of Straparole,
Or Machiavelli's Belphagor,
Would cheer us and delight us more,
Give greater pleasure and less pain
Than your grim tragedies of Spain!'
And here the Poet raised his hand,
With such entreaty and command,
It stopped discussion at its birth,
And said: 'The story I shall tell
Has meaning in it, if not mirth;
Listen, and hear what once befell
The merry birds of Killingworth!'
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Silence
Silence builds within these walls.
Across my brain a dark spectre crawls.
I feel the maddness creeping in.
Or was it long ago it did begin?
I can not tell,
because I reside within my shell.
Where only silence calms infernal hell.
Internal silence to keep from breaking.
I've hurt enough.
I take refuge,
from all the pain I dealt to you.
A dark shadow I cast upon your life.
Now silence strikes,
and blindness hides the love we shared.
Myself I now despise.
Silence surrounds pumping in my head,
in my veins a pounding beat that drains.
I'll sit here now in contemplation and meditation.
Pondering mistakes I've made small and great.
The spider runs across my brain,
as silence fills with loathsome shame.
Tears run from my eyes as acid rain.
I'll wrap myself up in deep refrain.
Until I make my penance and lift the grey.
poem by Michael McParland
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When a Merry Maiden Marries
When a merry maiden marries,
Sorrow goes and pleasure tarries;
Every sound becomes a song,
All is right and nothing's wrong!
From to-day and ever after
Let your tears be tears of laughter -
Every sigh that finds a vent
Be a sigh of sweet content!
When you marry merry maiden,
Then the air with love is laden;
Every flower is a rose,
Every goose becomes a swan,
Every kind of trouble goes
Where the last year's snows have gone;
Sunlight takes the place of shade
When you marry merry maid!
When a merry maiden marries
Sorrow goes and pleasure tarries;
Every sound becomes a song,
All is right, and nothing's wrong.
Gnawing Care and aching Sorrow,
Get ye gone until to-morrow;
Jealousies in grim array,
Ye are things of yesterday!
When you marry merry maiden,
Then the air with joy is laden;
All the corners of the earth
Ring with music sweetly played,
Worry is melodious mirth,
Grief is joy in masquerade;
Sullen night is laughing day -
All the year is merry May!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Prologue
All in the golden afternoon
Full leisurely we glide;
For both our oars, with little skill,
By little arms are plied,
While little hands make vain pretence
Our wanderings to guide.
Ah, cruel Three! In such an hour
Beneath such dreamy weather,
To beg a tale of breath too weak
To stir the tiniest feather&xclm.
Yet what can one poor voice avail
Against three tongues together?
Imperious Prima flashes forth
Her edict ``to begin it'':
In gentler tones Secunda hopes
``There will be nonsense in it!''
While Tertia interrupts the tale
Not more than once a minute.
Anon, to sudden silence won,
In fancy they pursue
The dream-child moving through a land
Of wonders wild and new,
In friendly chat with bird or beast--
And half believe it true.
And ever, as the story drained
The wells of fancy dry,
And faintly strove that weary one
To put the subject by
``The rest next time--'' ``It is next time!''
The happy voices cry.
Thus grew the tale of Wonderland:
Thus slowly, one by one,
Its quaint events were hammered out--
And now the tale is done,
And home we steer, a merry crew,
Beneath the setting sun.
Alice! A childish story take,
And with a gentle hand,
Lay it where Childhoood's dreams are twined
In Memory's mystic band,
Like pilgrim's wither'd wreath of flowers
Pluck'd in a far-off land.
poem by Lewis Carroll
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. Interlude II.
'I thought before your tale began,'
The Student murmured, 'we should have
Some legend written by Judah Rav
In his Gemara of Babylon;
Or something from the Gulistan,--
The tale of the Cazy of Hamadan,
Or of that King of Khorasan
Who saw in dreams the eyes of one
That had a hundred years been dead
Still moving restless in his head,
Undimmed, and gleaming with the lust
Of power, though all the rest was dust.
'But lo! your glittering caravan
On the road that leadeth to Ispahan
Hath led us farther to the East
Into the regions of Cathay.
Spite of your Kalif and his gold,
Pleasant has been the tale you told,
And full of color; that at least
No one will question or gainsay.
And yet on such a dismal day
We need a merrier tale to clear
The dark and heavy atmosphere.
So listen, Lordlings, while I tell,
Without a preface, what befell
A simple cobbler, in the year ?
No matter; it was long ago;
And that is all we need to know.'
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Silence (Version 2)
Life passes by
In silence we breathe
At all the wrongs done
In one singular Life
Silence we are told
Is what will save your life
NEVER tell a soul
Of the torment
In your life
Silently you suffer
At the hands of evil deeds
You cannot even whisper
SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE
Often you cry
All alone at night
And over the years
You learn to stifle the tears
In silence you watch
Wondering will anyone hear
Or even want to know
About my story of woe
Then slowly it trickles
A teardropp falls
Its time people heard
That silence is no more
Its time to speak up
To share my story of old
poem by Kaila George
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Carol Of The Bells
Hark! how the bells, sweet silver bells
All seem to say, throw cares away.
Christmas is here, bringing good cheer
To young and old, meek and the bold
Ding, dong, ding, dong, that is their song,
With joyful ring, all caroling
One seems to hear words of good cheer
From everywhere, filling the air
O, how they pound, raising the sound
Oer hill and dale, telling their tale
Gaily they ring, while people sing
Songs of good cheer, christmas is here!
Merry, merry, merry, merry christmas!
Merry, merry, merry, merry christmas!
On, on they send, on without end
Their joyful tone to every home
Hark! how the bells, sweet silver bells
All seem to say, throw cares away.
Christmas is here, bringing good cheer
To young and old, meek and the bold
Ding, dong, ding, dong, that is their song
With joyful ring, all caroling.
One seems to hear words of good cheer
From everywhere, filling the air
O, how they pound, raising the sound
Oer hill and dale, telling their tale
Gaily they ring, while people sing
Songs of good cheer, christmas is here!
Merry, merry, merry, merry christmas!
Merry, merry, merry, merry christmas!
On, on they send, on without end
Their joyful tone to every home.
Ding dong ding dong
song performed by by Carpenters
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Two Sides To Every Story
There are two sides to every story
Not just the side of them or theirs,
So never judge or hold a grudge
And when you listen, please listen with care.
Listen to one side and then always the other
Not just one side and then walk away
If you pick that route, sad you'll turn out
And never will you ever feel or be the same.
You will hate yourself as truth be told
If you listen to only one side of the story
You'll live in disgrace, when you see your face
And never will you fill satisfaction or joy.
As time will come, and of course time will tell
Someday the truth it will all come out
And when it you do hear, will you shed a tear
As you found out you took the wrong route.
There is two sides to every story
Not just the side that you want to hear
And not from their soul, that you do not know
And not from someone who will cry you a tear.
When you listen, please listen well
No matter if they be friend or foe
Look into their eyes, then you might realize
And then the truth might just be known.
To condemn someone is such a terrible act
Which you must live with the rest of your life
You will live in shame, for someone you falsely blamed
And always you will question yourself why.
A pretty face or a sad sad story
Guilt either begins or ends with that line
As a pretty face, it can mask lies or hate
Then the truth through deception is left behind.
There are two sides to every story
I must preach that statement once again
Listen to both sides, then the judgment you can decide
And happy you will be in the end
As you cannot judge a book by it's cover
No matter what you might hear or what might be said
As so many will lie, so that to get pity on their side
While untruth and deception they will had led.
A saddened face is just a saddened story
There is more to the truth to one persons story
Don't falsely judge, if so even GOD will hold a grudge
Then far away you will be from his glory.
When you listen to a story listen with your soul
Never be afraid to ask a question or even ask why
And always seek the truth, as you would seek out good fruit
And remember to every story there is always another side.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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In Silence
We talk in silence
We speak in exchanging breath
We argue in silence
We battle with our stare
We think in silence
We travel in our mind
We promise in silence
We create the secret better
We sing in silence
We smile in radiant melody
We enjoy in silence
We move with our body
We share in silence
We stay in each other arms
We love in silence
We grow the hope of warmth
We hate in silence
We shake in every fiber being
We pray in silence
We enchant the words in heart
We long in silence
We drown in loneliness
We break in silence
We flow soundless tears
We walk in silence
We tell our story in footprint
We listen in silence
We could hear numerous voices
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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In The Night
Where art thou, thou lost face,
Which, yet a little while, wert making mirth
At these new years which seemed too sad to be?
Where art thou fled which for a minute's space
Shut out the world and wert my world to me?
And now a corner of this idle Earth,
A broken shadow by the day forgot,
Is wide enough to be thy hiding place,
And thou art shrunk away and needest not
The darkness of this night to cover thee.
Where art thou hidden? In the boundless air
My hands go forth to thee, and search and feel
As through the universe. I hold the night
Caught in my arms, and yet thou art not there.
Where art thou? What if I should strike a light
So suddenly that thou couldst never steal
Back to thy shadows? What if I should find
Thee standing close to me with all thy hair
Trailing about me and thine eyes grown blind
With looking at me vainly through the night?
There are three rings upon thy hand to--night,
One with a sapphire stone, and one there is
Coiled like a snake, and one on which my name
Is written in strange gems. By this dim light
I cannot read if it be writ the same.
See, I have worn no other ring but this!
Why dost thou look at it with eyes estranged?
Is it not thine?--Ah, God! Thou readest right!
And it is changed, and thou and I are changed,
And I have written there another name.
Oh happiness, how has it slipped away!
We, who once lived and held it in our hand!
What is the rest that these new years can bring?
Did we not love it in our love's to--day,
And pleasure which was so divine a thing,
The sweetest and most strange to understand?
And that is why it left regret behind,
As though a wild bird suddenly should stay
A moment at our side and we should find
When we looked up that it had taken wing.
And thou, hast thou forgotten how to love?
Hast thou no kissing in thy lips? Thy tongue,
Has it no secret whisper for my ear?
I have been watching thee to see thee move
A little closer to my side in fear
Of the long night. Oh, there is room among
The pillows for thy head if thou wouldst sleep!
And thou art cold, and I would wrap my love
To my warm breast and so my vigil keep
And be alone with darkness and with her.
Thou standest with thy hand upon my heart,
As once thou used to stand, to feel it beat.
Doth it beat calmer now than in those days?
Thy foolish finger--tips will leave a smart,
If they so press upon my side. Thy gaze
Is burning me. Oh speak a word and cheat
This darkness into pain, if pain must be,
And wake me back to sorrow with a start,
For I am weary of the night and thee
And thy strange silence and thy stranger face.
Canst thou not speak? Thy tale was but begun.
How can I answer thee a tale untold?
Whisper it quick before the morning break.
How loud thou weepest! Listen, there is one
Dreaming beside me who must not awake.
Close in my ear !--Ah! child, thy lips are cold,
Because thou art forsaken.--Misery!
Is there not room enough beneath the sun
For her, and thee, and me?
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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All In The Golden Afternoon
All in the golden afternoon
Full leisurely we glide;
For both our oars, with little skill,
By little arms are plied,
While little hands make vain pretense
Our wanderings to guide.
Ah, cruel Three! In such an hour,
Beneath such dreamy weather,
To beg a tale of breath too weak
To stir the tiniest feather!
Yet what can one poor voice avail
Against three tongues together?
Imperious Prima flashes forth
Her edict to "begin it"--
In gentler tones Secunda hopes
"There will be nonsense in it"--
While Tertia interrupts the tale
Not more than once a minute.
Anon, to sudden silence won,
In fancy they pursue
The dream-child moving through a land
Of wonders wild and new,
In friendly chat with bird or beast--
And half believe it true.
And ever, as the story drained
The wells of fancy dry,
And faintly strove that weary one
To put the subject by,
"The rest next time"--"It is next time!"
The happy voices cry.
Thus grew the tale of Wonderland:
Thus slowly, one by one,
Its quaint events were hammered out--
And now the tale is done,
And home we steer, a merry crew,
Beneath the setting sun.
Alice! a childish story take,
And with a gentle hand
Lay it where Childhood's dreams are twined
In Memory's mystic band,
Like pilgrim's withered wreath of flowers
Plucked in a far-off land.
Submitted by foolish Paeter
poem by Lewis Carroll
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Physical Presence
I leave as I enter
another boy caught in-between
now all I can muster
are whispers to your screams
don't you remember
how you eased my disgrace
don't you remember
the love you saw in my face
perfected in silence
a physical presence
perfected in silence
a physical presence
I sought affection
but now I realize
a cold rejection
the movement in your eyes
but I can remember
when you shook against me
I can remember
when I saw what love could be
perfected in silence
a physical presence
perfected in silence
a physical presence
ain't what she did
it's the way that she did it
when I couldn't give
only she could forgive it
ain't what she did
it's the way that she did it
as long as I live
it's for me to re-live it . . .
silence . . .
part of the answer
is that there's really no escape
part of the answer
is that life can have such perfect shape
don't you remember
all the nights you shared in my disgrace
don't you remember
that the love that filled this empty space was . . .
. . . perfected in silence
a physical presence
perfected in silence
a physical presence
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Quiet Lodger
The man that rooms next door to me:
Two weeks ago, this very night,
He took possession quietly,
As any other lodger might--
But why the room next mine should so
Attract him I was vexed to know,--
Because his quietude, in fine,
Was far superior to mine.
'Now, I like quiet, truth to tell,
A tranquil life is sweet to me--
But _this_,' I sneered, 'suits me too well.--
He shuts his door so noiselessly,
And glides about so very mute,
In each mysterious pursuit,
His silence is oppressive, and
Too deep for me to understand.'
Sometimes, forgetting book or pen,
I've found my head in breathless poise
Lifted, and dropped in shame again,
Hearing some alien ghost of noise--
Some smothered sound that seemed to be
A trunk-lid dropped unguardedly,
Or the crisp writhings of some quire
Of manuscript thrust in the fire.
Then I have climbed, and closed in vain
My transom, opening in the hall;
Or close against the window-pane
Have pressed my fevered face,--but all
The day or night without held not
A sight or sound or counter-thought
To set my mind one instant free
Of this man's silent mastery.
And often I have paced the floor
With muttering anger, far at night,
Hearing, and cursing, o'er and o'er,
The muffled noises, and the light
And tireless movements of this guest
Whose silence raged above my rest
Hoarser than howling storms at sea--
The man that rooms next door to me.
But twice or thrice, upon the stair,
I've seen his face--most strangely wan,--
Each time upon me unaware
He came--smooth'd past me, and was gone.
So like a whisper he went by,
I listened after, ear and eye,
Nor could my chafing fancy tell
The meaning of one syllable.
Last night I caught him, face to face,--
He entering his room, and I
Glaring from mine: He paused a space
And met my scowl all shrinkingly,
But with full gentleness: The key
Turned in his door--and I could see
It tremblingly withdrawn and put
Inside, and then--the door was shut.
Then silence. _Silence_!--why, last night
The silence was tumultuous,
And thundered on till broad daylight;--
O never has it stunned me thus!--
It rolls, and moans, and mumbles yet.--
Ah, God! how loud may silence get
When man mocks at a brother man
Who answers but as silence can!
The silence grew, and grew, and grew,
Till at high noon to-day 'twas heard
Throughout the house; and men flocked through
The echoing halls, with faces blurred
With pallor, gloom, and fear, and awe,
And shuddering at what they saw--
The quiet lodger, as he lay
Stark of the life he cast away.
* * * * *
So strange to-night--those voices there,
Where all so quiet was before;
They say the face has not a care
Nor sorrow in it any more--
His latest scrawl:--'Forgive me--You
Who prayed, 'they know not what they do!''
My tears wilt never let me see
This man that rooms next door to me!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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In The Desert
A cloudless sky o’erhead, and all around
The level country stretching like a sea—
A dull grey sea, that had no seeming bound,
The very semblance of eternity.
All common things that this poor life contained
Had passed from me, leaving no sign nor token;
My footfall first broke stillness that had reigned
For centuries unbroken.
Almost it was as if my steps had strayed
Into some strange old land or unknown isle,
Where Time himself, with drowsy hand had stayed
The shadow on the dial.
The sun at even sank down angry red
In the dim haze that bounded the far plain;
And then the stars usurped the heavens instead,
With silence in their train—
A deep, dread silence, save when fitful sighs
Of wailing wind were wafted from the south.
Nature seemed dying: light had left her eyes,
The smile of her mouth.
Only in dreams unquietly she talked,
In broken murmurs restlessly did ’plain;
Then came strange sounds, as if a spirit walked,
Wringing its hands in pain,
Crying, ‘No rest! no rest! Who dares intrude,
And waken silence that for countless years
Has been unbroken? Must our solitude
At last know human tears?
Leave but a little space, O restless race!
Free from your carking vanity and care.
Keep back! keep back!’ And then, a phantom face
Shone lurid in the air,
Gazing in mine, with a strange, earnest look
Of solemn sadness, more than mortal pain,
Then vanished with a bitter cry that shook
The dim, dead plain.
poem by Ernest Favenc
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Do Yiu Listen..Or Do U Hear
s the sun rises, , all is quite no chatter of people no cars goin by
but in this silence i hear
i hear the wind as she sings her song
i hear the birds in the sky as they fly by
this is the best silence of all
no phones ringing, no engines reviing as they race by
i hear everything in nature in its glory
can u hear it too..or can u not silence ur selfs
i hear the clouds as they roll in
its this silence that i take pen in hand
and write
u think as u read but thier is no silence
for u can hear the horses roam
u can hear the thunder off in th distance
but when we are loud we caint hear
the beauty of what surrounds
so as u read this poem silence ur mind
and next time u walk out side
silence you mouth ur mind
and u can see silence of the
of all things
then u can truly hear
as i do
and a beautfull sound to see
greyicewolf
.
poem by Jeff Greyicewolf
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. Interlude II.
Well pleased all listened to the tale,
That drew, the Student said, its pith
And marrow from the ancient myth
Of some one with an iron flail;
Or that portentous Man of Brass
Hephaestus made in days of yore,
Who stalked about the Cretan shore,
And saw the ships appear and pass,
And threw stones at the Argonauts,
Being filled with indiscriminate ire
That tangled and perplexed his thoughts;
But, like a hospitable host,
When strangers landed on the coast,
Heated himself red-hot with fire,
And hugged them in his arms, and pressed
Their bodies to his burning breast.
The Poet answered: 'No, not thus
The legend rose; it sprang at first
Out of the hunger and the thirst
In all men for the marvellous.
And thus it filled and satisfied
The imagination of mankind,
And this ideal to the mind
Was truer than historic fact.
Fancy enlarged and multiplied
The tenors of the awful name
Of Charlemagne, till he became
Armipotent in every act,
And, clothed in mystery, appeared
Not what men saw, but what they feared.
Besides, unless my memory fail,
Your some one with an iron flail
Is not an ancient myth at all,
But comes much later on the scene
As Talus in the Faerie Queene,
The iron groom of Artegall,
Who threshed out falsehood and deceit,
And truth upheld, and righted wrong,
As was, as is the swallow, fleet,
And as the lion is, was strong.'
The Theologian said: 'Perchance
Your chronicler in writing this
Had in his mind the Anabasis,
Where Xenophon describes the advance
Of Artaxerxes to the fight;
At first the low gray cloud of dust,
And then a blackness o'er the fields
As of a passing thunder-gust,
Then flash of brazen armor bright,
And ranks of men, and spears up-thrust,
Bowmen and troops with wicker shields,
And cavalry equipped in white,
And chariots ranged in front of these
With scythes upon their axle-trees.'
To this the Student answered: 'Well,
I also have a tale to tell
Of Charlemagne; a tale that throws
A softer light, more tinged with rose,
Than your grim apparition cast
Upon the darkness of the past.
Listen, and hear in English rhyme
What the good Monk of Lauresheim
Gives as the gossip of his time,
In mediaeval Latin prose.'
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Fairy tale gone wrong?
It began like a fairy tale
A woman and a male
Out of two different cultures
In search for adventures
They truly liked each other
A smile followed another
Where did the fairy tale go wrong
Can you tell me just this one
It has been about six weeks
That I feel misery so strong
that she seems to be gone
that my ship has some leaks
Why did the fairy tale turn false
I know that she truly likes me
The only thought that consoles
but as long as I don’t see
her smiling face again
only pain does remain
Do you remember the old fairy tales
Can you see the story that never fails
To show you that love always wins
Whatever difficulties or hard sins
For us a hard time seems worse enough
Just six weeks do seem much too tough
Where did this fairy tale go bad
Why do the last weeks turn me mad
It’s a story that makes me sad
Only you could make me glad
poem by Michael Saurer
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A Moment Of Silence
Bow your head and listen
its a lesson to learn
yet it your not getting
but you raise your hand to ask a question
but no one can answer
so you bow your head in silence
they all begin to laugh
not with you but at you
you sit alone because theres nothing you can do
you ask for peace
to be left alone
but tears fall when your on your own
burning memories
and riping pasts
hoping for moments that will last
so listen now and listen good
because my ears are open
atleast someones should
poor it all out to me open your heart
all of it builds up inside
so its tearing you a part
can we have a moment of silence
for the times you tried but in the end failed
a moment of silence for when the truths revailed
and someone actually wants to listen
a moment of silence for concentration
hear your heart beat
so when you look up you'd be standing by me
Can we have a moment of silence?
poem by Yahdaj Roseney
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A Physical Presence
I leave as I enter
Another boy caught in-between
Now all I can muster
Are whispers to your screams
Dont you remember
How you eased my disgrace
Dont you remember
The love you saw in my face
Perfected in silence
A physical presence
Perfected in silence
A physical presence
I sought affection
But now I realize
A cold rejection
The movement in your eyes
But I can remember
When you shook against me
I can remember
When I saw what love could be
Perfected in silence
A physical presence
Perfected in silence
A physical presence
Aint what she did
Its the way that she did it
When I couldnt give
Only she could forgive it
Aint what she did
Its the way that she did it
As long as I live
Its for me to re-live it . . .
Silence . . .
Part of the answer
Is that theres really no escape
Part of the answer
Is that life can have such perfect shape
Dont you remember
All the nights you shared in my disgrace
Dont you remember
That the love that filled this empty space was . . .
. . . perfected in silence
A physical presence
Perfected in silence
A physical presence
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Daddy Don't Cry
Daddy stop crying
Your tears scare me
You're supposed to be the strong one
The fearless one
I can't face your tears
Or your pain
Why are you crying?
Do you hurt so bad?
At night I hear you crying
When you think you're alone
And I wonder, 'What did I do?
Was it something I said? '
You sit me down to talk
To tell me everything
You tell me of this cancer
This terrible curse
You tell me how you wish it would
Go away and leave us be
You tell me that you hope one day
It won't happen to me
I listen as you talk to me
And see the tears in your eyes
I get up and wipe away your tears
And say, 'Daddy please don't cry.'
You smile and the tears are gone
But the memory of them remain
I try to cheer you up
To make you forget, in vain
I need you to understand
That everything will be okay
This is completely backwards
But it's what I have to say
Daddy don't cry
Everything will be okay
Just believe it will
And remember,
I LOVE YOU! ! !
poem by Tiana Webb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silence Part II
The silence continues
And so does this game
What's worst is I know
That I'm the only one to blame
It's all my fault
It's because of what I did and didn't do
And it hurts so much
Because i'm so in love with you
I can hear in the silence
What I've heard for some time
You don't say anything
But I know what's on your mind
You leave behind silence
In the dark abyss that is my heart
And what's worst is
I, myself, tore it apart
When I realized what I was doing
It was already too late
Just another
Twist of my terrible fate
And silence took over
A silence caused by me
A silence that's eternal
A silence that won't leave